first of all, i need to update anyone who cares about my life changing at the drop of a hat. i am no longer working at the ranch (not really suprising since i change jobs like i change underwear) and my husband and i are now the proud parents to be of a 16 year old delinquent ward of the state (whole 'nother story folks). i have recently rediscovered my long lost passion for bellydance and i now have a mostly working, older than i am, probably too difficult for me to ride motorcycle that is liable to kill me soon...YAY! so...on to our story.
have you ever made such a huge ass of yourself you were no longer willing to be your own friend anymore? see, i work at an italian restaurant in town now...a NICE italian restaurant, and we have some regular customers that we all know and joke with...well, i try NOT to joke with them because i haven't worked there long and i DONT WANT TO MAKE AN ASS OF MYSELF because even though most people don't beleive me i KNOW that i am insane. a few nights ago one such customer came in and sat by himself at the bar as i was getting off work. now, i knew that this guy rode a harley and i was going stir crazy waiting for my honda to come home from the "shop" (yet ANOTHER story...remind me later) so i ambled over and struck up a conversation about motorcycles in general. for a while i did pretty well passing for normal. i should really learn when to quit. after about 15 minutes a server friend of mine walked by (we'll just call her fran) and this regular customer (lets call him...uh...zaldoth) stopped her.
ok....time out, this next part of the story involves my name and i'm just not willing to use that here so bear with me for the rest...
zaldoth: *pointed look at savage that savage OBVIOUSLY mistook for conspiracy* fran, dear, i just wanted to let you know that savage's father passed away last night.
fran: *horrified look at savage* oh my goodness....
savage:(inwardly trying to work this new development in the conversation out in her head, assumes from the conspiritorial look that zaldoth intends to play a hateful joke on fran....doesnt know what to do....)*gazes back forlornly at fran attempting in vain not to burst into peals of panicky laughter trying to play along and feeling quite befuddled and rediculous*
zaldoth: yeah well...i just wanted you to know because you always wait on me when i come in...
fran: *still glancing back and fourth between savage and zaldoth* i'm so sorry to hear it i just...
savage: *too nervouse, must die laughing now* i'm sorry...*still laughing* i cant do it...i just cant...
zaldoth and fran exchange troubled and confused looks now and try to continue their conversation...
zaldoth: well you know they just moved back last year and he's been sick but we all thought he would pull through....it was just so sudden, she's really torn up about it...
fran: yeah i remember him being sick..i hope she'll be ok
at this point i have stopped laughing (which, i would like to interject, i was only doing because i knew i was in a socially awkward position and since i have the social skills of a retarded chicken, laughing is all i usually can do) and am horrified...i wait for a break in the conversation...
savage: um...mr. zaldoth.....is your wife's name....uh....savage?
fran exits stage left bless her
zaldoth: *obviously wondering how i missed this vital tidbit* er...yes
savage: *dies*
well.....i wished at the time i had died....i actually had to beg this poor greiving man's forgiveness for not only missing the cue to excuse myself from the conversation (see "pointed look" above) which was rude but ALSO for being completely insensitive about his father-in-law's death and LAUGHING as he told the story to his friend..... thank Jesus for people with good breeding because i CERTAINLY dont have any..... mr. zaldoth was really nice about the whole thing
Monday, February 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
darkness and black cat sickness
ok...this one happened tonight.
See, I have this car, it's a 96 pontiac grand prix sports edition coupe. I have totaled it twice so while it used to be teal, it is now teal with the black hood of a 96 gtp. That fact is not relevant to this story, what is relevant is the fact that since I have totaled it twice and I am lazy I have never adjusted the headlights, so they point in all sorts of obscure directions and are next to worthless on roads with no streetlights. Wow, I think that sentence had too many ands in it.
Now then, I currently am the hostler (pronounced "ostler" meaning I take care of the horses) at a local ranch and tonight when I tried to leave the ranch my car wouldnt start. This was rather distracting and I am sure if I had not been distracted I would have remembered ( before i got out of the driveway) that I had left my purse sitting on a chair in the barn. I did get my car started, I did not remember the purse. This was a problem because my Beretta was in my purse (I know, I was horrified, that is the first time that has happened.) When I got home my husband fixed the problem with my car and I promptly jumped back in the car and took off to get my purse.
This is where the story gets interesting, you see while my husband was fixing my car I picked up, and was loving on, our outside cat. This cat is disgusting. He jumped into my husband's lap months ago while my husband was at a job. He has been with us ever since. This cat is polydactyl meaning he has 6 toes on each front foot. (all of our animals are goofy like that, we call ourselves the "save a misfit foundation") This cat has long fluffy black hair and because he insists that he is an outdoor cat his long black fluffy hair is constantly full of sticks and dead bugs and hitchhikers. This cat refuses to gain weight so he looks like a pile of bones draped with hide AND to top it all off...he stinks. Not like "ew whats that smell" but like "oh my God how long has that cat been dead, why dont you bury it?" kind of stink. We love him.
So I am standing holding this cat telling my husband that I'll be right back, I didn't even think about it I just put him in my lap (the cat, not the husband) and went. He was fine, we got to the barn, I got my purse, we started back to the house. The only problem was that there is a very long, very dark, stretch of road where there was no shoulder (no, different road, I just have a penchant for finding these roads) and no streetlights. I was struggling to see ahead of me and periodically being blinded by everyone else's headlights and so far this cat was not bothering me at all. until suddenly he starts talking:
"rrrrroooooOOOOOOOOwwwwwwlllll"
(squinting and trying desperately not to run off the road) "whats wrong kitty?"
"rrrrrroooooOOOOOoooOOOOOWWWWwwwll"
Then it started. You know that "bbrrrrrpppp" noise that cats and dogs do when they dry heave? Yeah, so what DOES one do when one is hurtling through the darkness at 50mph and theres no place to pull off? Me? I fell out laughing as this cat, who smells like rotten ass at the best of times vomited repeatedly on my lap. I didn't even have time to grab anything to put IN my lap. It was "man up" or huck the cat out the window and like I said, We love him.
See, I have this car, it's a 96 pontiac grand prix sports edition coupe. I have totaled it twice so while it used to be teal, it is now teal with the black hood of a 96 gtp. That fact is not relevant to this story, what is relevant is the fact that since I have totaled it twice and I am lazy I have never adjusted the headlights, so they point in all sorts of obscure directions and are next to worthless on roads with no streetlights. Wow, I think that sentence had too many ands in it.
Now then, I currently am the hostler (pronounced "ostler" meaning I take care of the horses) at a local ranch and tonight when I tried to leave the ranch my car wouldnt start. This was rather distracting and I am sure if I had not been distracted I would have remembered ( before i got out of the driveway) that I had left my purse sitting on a chair in the barn. I did get my car started, I did not remember the purse. This was a problem because my Beretta was in my purse (I know, I was horrified, that is the first time that has happened.) When I got home my husband fixed the problem with my car and I promptly jumped back in the car and took off to get my purse.
This is where the story gets interesting, you see while my husband was fixing my car I picked up, and was loving on, our outside cat. This cat is disgusting. He jumped into my husband's lap months ago while my husband was at a job. He has been with us ever since. This cat is polydactyl meaning he has 6 toes on each front foot. (all of our animals are goofy like that, we call ourselves the "save a misfit foundation") This cat has long fluffy black hair and because he insists that he is an outdoor cat his long black fluffy hair is constantly full of sticks and dead bugs and hitchhikers. This cat refuses to gain weight so he looks like a pile of bones draped with hide AND to top it all off...he stinks. Not like "ew whats that smell" but like "oh my God how long has that cat been dead, why dont you bury it?" kind of stink. We love him.
So I am standing holding this cat telling my husband that I'll be right back, I didn't even think about it I just put him in my lap (the cat, not the husband) and went. He was fine, we got to the barn, I got my purse, we started back to the house. The only problem was that there is a very long, very dark, stretch of road where there was no shoulder (no, different road, I just have a penchant for finding these roads) and no streetlights. I was struggling to see ahead of me and periodically being blinded by everyone else's headlights and so far this cat was not bothering me at all. until suddenly he starts talking:
"rrrrroooooOOOOOOOOwwwwwwlllll"
(squinting and trying desperately not to run off the road) "whats wrong kitty?"
"rrrrrroooooOOOOOoooOOOOOWWWWwwwll"
Then it started. You know that "bbrrrrrpppp" noise that cats and dogs do when they dry heave? Yeah, so what DOES one do when one is hurtling through the darkness at 50mph and theres no place to pull off? Me? I fell out laughing as this cat, who smells like rotten ass at the best of times vomited repeatedly on my lap. I didn't even have time to grab anything to put IN my lap. It was "man up" or huck the cat out the window and like I said, We love him.
Friday, September 26, 2008
"Heron Today Gone Tomorrow"
Just to prove these things ONLY happen to me...I'll start with the "heron story".
I have this terriffic '85 model GMC Sierra shortbed truck. My dad built it when I was twelve and gave it to me when I was sixteen. It used to be a hotrod...but thats a rabbit we'll chase another day. I also used to live in a trailer park on a narrow country road, the kind with no lines on the outside...and no shoulder either for that matter. I was driving down this narrow country road (in north Louisiana, did i mention that?) one evening, it was "just thinkin' 'bout gettin' dark" outside and all of a sudden I see what I reckon to be a suicidal Blue Heron ( you know...BIG, long skinny neck and legs, like to hang out in swamps and shallow water? ) I reckoned him to be suicidal on account of how he was just chillin' in the dead middle of the road like it was his grandma's porch or somethin'. Now you can't see it since you're readin' this but I have "SUCKER" printed on my forehead big as day so I stopped (in the road mind you, there is no shoulder) and turned on my flashers and started shoeing him out of the road. Now, it occurred to me that there was something wrong after a few minutes because on top of the fact that this bird (who was ALOT bigger in real life than in pictures or when standing out in the pond) was not flying, he was falling over alot...like every-few-steps kind of alot. So being the upstanding redneck that I am, I decided he must have the bird flu and needed to be taken off the streets so as not to infect anyone (no, I wasn't worried about me, I'm invincible.) I promptly tackled the bird and nearly got pinched to death (by now this bird is much MUCH bigger than he looked a few minutes ago)BUT...I too have watched my share of "The Crocodile Hunter" and being as industrious as I am I snatched my scrunchie out of my hair and wrapped it around his beak. Now I was only being bludgeoned to death but at least I was holding my own. I somehow managed to wrestle this thing out of the ditch and back to my (terriffic) truck when I realised since there was no shoulder I was now holding up traffic who could not go around my truck because I have been wrestling with a very large flu infested bird in the only other lane. They didn't seem to mind much though on account of how (I'm sure) they had never seen a little curly haired southern girl wrestle a blue heron in the middle of the road before. Anyway, I managed to get this monster to my truck, open the door, (without dropping him) and uncerimoniously "huck" him inside...with my rather sheepish dog who promptly got pecked in the forehead and tried to dig her way out of the bottom of my truck. In order to save my poor dog I slammed my drivers side door, and went hood sliding to the other side just in time to open the other door, snatch her out, fling her in the bed of the truck and slam the door shut again. Then I realised I had just shut a very large angry bird inside the cab of my truck and there was no good way to get back inside without getting pecked to death....and I was still blocking one whole side of the road. So, like any sweet faced southern girl would do I called my husband:
"um....Baby, I need some help."
"whats wrong? Are you allright?"
" yeah, I'm fine...(in all seriousness) but I've got a Blue Heron in the cab of my truck and he won't let me back in"
(silence)
" um....Baby? are you still there?"
(peals of laughter)
"ok, thats fine...laugh. just have the dog kennel ready when i finally manage to get home."
"(laughter) oh, my God! (more laughter) It's like being married...(still laughing) to a 'Ripley's Believe it or Not' commercial..."
Then, not having any other ideas (and still blocking the road) I pony'ed up, put my leather coat over my head, jumped in, and peeled out for home.
I don't remember how we got the bird in the kennel but I remember it not being fun. Afterwards I started calling anyone I could think of to find out what to do with it...vets, wildlife and fisheries, shelters, they all talked to me with the "special baby" tone (you know, the tone you use with REALLY bright people) and told me it was illegal to keep it confined and I should turn it loose. No one seemed as concerned with bird flu as I was. I researched bird flu on the internet and found out the bird had to be dead before it could be tested and I really wans't up for that so I put him in the dog pen in the yard with food and a pool of water...TECHNICALLY he was free because all he had to do was fly away right? Right! Did I mention I lived in a trailer park? It wasn't long before we were the talk of the...well....the park. EVERYBODY wanted to come over, you'da thought they'ed never seen one of these things before.
Life went on like that for about a week and then one day my husband called me at work:
"Sugar I think you're bird is dead."
"Why do you think that...he never moves much."
"Yeah but he's been on his back with his feet in the air for fourty-five minutes...he's never done that before."
And that was the end of the Heron...no, he didn't have the bird flu, BUT there is a moral to the story....
Heron today...Gone tomorrow. (did I mention I like bad puns)
I have this terriffic '85 model GMC Sierra shortbed truck. My dad built it when I was twelve and gave it to me when I was sixteen. It used to be a hotrod...but thats a rabbit we'll chase another day. I also used to live in a trailer park on a narrow country road, the kind with no lines on the outside...and no shoulder either for that matter. I was driving down this narrow country road (in north Louisiana, did i mention that?) one evening, it was "just thinkin' 'bout gettin' dark" outside and all of a sudden I see what I reckon to be a suicidal Blue Heron ( you know...BIG, long skinny neck and legs, like to hang out in swamps and shallow water? ) I reckoned him to be suicidal on account of how he was just chillin' in the dead middle of the road like it was his grandma's porch or somethin'. Now you can't see it since you're readin' this but I have "SUCKER" printed on my forehead big as day so I stopped (in the road mind you, there is no shoulder) and turned on my flashers and started shoeing him out of the road. Now, it occurred to me that there was something wrong after a few minutes because on top of the fact that this bird (who was ALOT bigger in real life than in pictures or when standing out in the pond) was not flying, he was falling over alot...like every-few-steps kind of alot. So being the upstanding redneck that I am, I decided he must have the bird flu and needed to be taken off the streets so as not to infect anyone (no, I wasn't worried about me, I'm invincible.) I promptly tackled the bird and nearly got pinched to death (by now this bird is much MUCH bigger than he looked a few minutes ago)BUT...I too have watched my share of "The Crocodile Hunter" and being as industrious as I am I snatched my scrunchie out of my hair and wrapped it around his beak. Now I was only being bludgeoned to death but at least I was holding my own. I somehow managed to wrestle this thing out of the ditch and back to my (terriffic) truck when I realised since there was no shoulder I was now holding up traffic who could not go around my truck because I have been wrestling with a very large flu infested bird in the only other lane. They didn't seem to mind much though on account of how (I'm sure) they had never seen a little curly haired southern girl wrestle a blue heron in the middle of the road before. Anyway, I managed to get this monster to my truck, open the door, (without dropping him) and uncerimoniously "huck" him inside...with my rather sheepish dog who promptly got pecked in the forehead and tried to dig her way out of the bottom of my truck. In order to save my poor dog I slammed my drivers side door, and went hood sliding to the other side just in time to open the other door, snatch her out, fling her in the bed of the truck and slam the door shut again. Then I realised I had just shut a very large angry bird inside the cab of my truck and there was no good way to get back inside without getting pecked to death....and I was still blocking one whole side of the road. So, like any sweet faced southern girl would do I called my husband:
"um....Baby, I need some help."
"whats wrong? Are you allright?"
" yeah, I'm fine...(in all seriousness) but I've got a Blue Heron in the cab of my truck and he won't let me back in"
(silence)
" um....Baby? are you still there?"
(peals of laughter)
"ok, thats fine...laugh. just have the dog kennel ready when i finally manage to get home."
"(laughter) oh, my God! (more laughter) It's like being married...(still laughing) to a 'Ripley's Believe it or Not' commercial..."
Then, not having any other ideas (and still blocking the road) I pony'ed up, put my leather coat over my head, jumped in, and peeled out for home.
I don't remember how we got the bird in the kennel but I remember it not being fun. Afterwards I started calling anyone I could think of to find out what to do with it...vets, wildlife and fisheries, shelters, they all talked to me with the "special baby" tone (you know, the tone you use with REALLY bright people) and told me it was illegal to keep it confined and I should turn it loose. No one seemed as concerned with bird flu as I was. I researched bird flu on the internet and found out the bird had to be dead before it could be tested and I really wans't up for that so I put him in the dog pen in the yard with food and a pool of water...TECHNICALLY he was free because all he had to do was fly away right? Right! Did I mention I lived in a trailer park? It wasn't long before we were the talk of the...well....the park. EVERYBODY wanted to come over, you'da thought they'ed never seen one of these things before.
Life went on like that for about a week and then one day my husband called me at work:
"Sugar I think you're bird is dead."
"Why do you think that...he never moves much."
"Yeah but he's been on his back with his feet in the air for fourty-five minutes...he's never done that before."
And that was the end of the Heron...no, he didn't have the bird flu, BUT there is a moral to the story....
Heron today...Gone tomorrow. (did I mention I like bad puns)
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