Monday, November 30, 2009

Juvenile??? Yes!! Funny???? I hope so!!!!

*******WARNING: I had a conversation with my mom last night and she told me that when she reads my blog and I say "ass" it always makes her laugh (-----we weren't sure why------). So I dedicate this blog post to her. It will contain a lot of ass usage. I will have an ass count at the end. I won't however (due to parental monitoring) talk about sex - or - men's asses - or - my lack of sex AND men's asses - or - drinking - or - staying up late eating junk food and adding to my ass -or- watching rated "R" movies - or - when I said out loud "so easy a caveman can do it" and the homeless guy HEARD me and looked sad and my kids laughed (been praying for forgiveness on that one, but he did look just like 'em, sigh) - or - the reckless abandon I used when I ripped off the mattress tags - or - the in-pure thoughts I had about Walter the Mart greeter - or - that I use those little Christmas address stickers sent to me in lieu of a voluntary donation *without donating*.... (that's not what's on your card's envelope mom, I swanee).

But..... I WOULD like to say that Church has been splendid EVERY night - and - the tiny village of Vommbabadabei that I single handedly planted a whole rice field and built 10 schools in, is honoring me with a ceremony next week -and- that the blankets I hand knitted with my own children's belly button and toe lint have all been passed out to the shelters - and - that I turned down ANOTHER starring movie role because it had an ass scene AND a topless scene in it--and because of the morals I was raised with I couldn't do it even for the 20 mil (I think Angelina ended up taking it, she needed it more, what with the 50 kids and all, I'm a giver)*******end of disclaimer*********

Wow! Everyone has their Christmas lights up already-maybe it's because I live in a "not so nice" neighborhood and they never took them down, but whatever. The icy glow of white lights always gets me in the mood. What "mood" that is depends on the stupidity and "ass"inine (cheated on that one a bit, wink) behavior of the people I have to deal with IN the stores.

Today started out nicely, I dug around until I found my little Rudolph deco for the car and the PT is now decked for the holiday!!! My kids were thrilled. That's why I do it, just for them (ha).

And then I made the mistake of going to the Mart.

I have strong pro and con feelings about the Mart. I suppose if you go to a Mart in an affluent area there will be less cons, but also less things to laugh about (pros). Today a woman showed her ass. She really did,,,,, it was ass cleavage. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans that caused a severe case of muffin top (they were like 6 sizes too small and she was no featherweight champion, not that I am, but still). They had a large rectangle cut out of the under ass portion of both legs. My kid's begged me to take a picture for you but I said, "Alas my children, your beautiful and talented Mother will draw the offending ass with perfect precision and skill and present it on her blog with much fanfare".

Wanna see your visual? Of course you do!! Here it comes:

You are soooo welcome!!!


Drawing this on photo shop made me realize how very lonely and disturbed I must be. I guess it was somewhere between actually drawing the jean stitches (which you can't see now, sigh,, waste of 30 good minutes!!!), and the perfectly arched ass crack work, that left me sad and empty inside.

I'm going to go eat some green olives and rock back and forth in my chair for a while. Yes; I promise I am wearing my helmet and yes; I DO take the short bus for long trips !! GEESH


See........ I can't be all THAT bad- I just made my mom laugh 15 times!!!!! XOXOXO MOM!!!!!!!

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Awwww, poor Hoover!!!!!!

Hoover took the concept of a "throw-up" bucket VERY seriously last night!!!!!!!!!

He was sick to his stomach ALL night long. Instead of him sitting next to the toilet on the cold tile floor I brought out the good ole' up-chuckin' bucket. He sat with his head in it for an hour saying: "I jus' makin' sure, mommy, jus' makin' sure!!"

It was an Olympic worthy "freestyle" throw up competition. And I was sympathy puking right along with him. He's still iffy this morning and I am out of rug cleaner (please pray, smile)

****My life is glamorous people, you'll just have to deal with your jealousy issues!!****

Friday, November 27, 2009

Circus Peanuts and Harleys

A few days ago I met a guy for coffee downtown in the square. This really was NOT a date; it really was just a "meet". The square is decorated beautifully with greenery and festive hoopla. There is a huge Christmas tree and a bright red sleigh iced with lights. A crisp cool breeze swept my cheeks and I felt chilly in a great "wintry holiday" way. The gazebo entrance was beautifully smiling with holly and bow swags. The church bells were ringing in the distance. "How could anything go wrong?" I thought sweetly holding on to the fleeting hope of unexpected romance.

The coffee shop is right across the way from the square. He was going to ride his Harley over and meet me in the middle of the square with coffee (even though I don't drink coffee it sounded romantic in a "Meg Ryanie-Tom Hankie on the top of a building sort of way, right??).

I had my son with me and he was playing with his truck quietly (after I took 50 pics of him in the sleigh). Normally I wouldn't do this sort of thing with him in tow (and won't again) but it was only to be a quick 15-20 minutes as we both had other plans for the day. I conceded to the meet. I heard him drive up (And I must say the sound of a Harley always stirs me a bit (grrrrr)).

My nerves kicked in:

Stomach suck progress---check---concave

Proper boob angle and demure cleavage status---check---

Sexy stance; provocative yet sweet, simple and natural---affirmative---

Depends undergarment in place for when I nervously wet myself---MISSING------ABORT MISSION------"CODE CHIHUAHUA"-------ABORT MISSION--------HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!!!!!!!......(damn, too late, he is walking up!!)

Now, in my eyes; when a man staggers over, two hands held out holding cups of coffee looking at you; he can’t help but look sweet for the effort. And he did. But there was no spark. He was dressed in a Garth Brooksy-ish shirt and dirty jeans. His hair slicked back. Thick black framed glasses sat on the tip of his nose and he wiggled his dirty fingernails (ewwww, I couldn't stop looking at the jagged nails, cringe).

But the spark that was lacking for me was personality, not looks (I know I probably shouldn't have mentioned his appearance then, don’t judge me, I’m painting you a picture people, it's ALL for YOU, you’re welcome. Please don’t interrupt again, it's rude and my mind gets all jumbled, I start thinking about Circus Peanuts and uh sex, uh yea, that's right Circus Peanuts!!!).

He was around 4 years older than me but acted and looked as if he were 20 years my senior. I think I am a bit like my mom, she has cured VERY well (she is beautiful) and you would not guess her age. I got lucky with that age gene. But I also dress and keep myself looking young. No dowdy clothes or hair for me. I like dramatic accessories and make up. I love a little edge. So I like to think I don’t LOOK my age at all (Of course I just turned 39 yesterday and I may just be trying to make myself feel better, but whatever, I can't hear you laughing at me and shaking your head at my insanity so it's all good, no stop it, hurts me...).

Maybe the reason I have had troubles meeting someone is because they do all ACT their age. No spunk or edge. I’m not ready for a senior citizen romance yet.

Wanna know why? Of course you do! Here I go:

I still want to dance in the car line and in the parking lot and down the aisle of stores

I still want to get on my hands and knees and act like a wacko with my kids

I’m not ready for bingo night yet

I love rock and roll and edgy things

I don’t want to wear tunics or moo moos

I believe in the POWER of well-placed sparkles

Prunes-sprunes let it happen naturally

I don’t want my shoes to have Velcro

If I want to get up at 2am and run to the mart for a new rock CD I will

I want to slide down waterfalls and splash in the cool clear pools of the mountains

I want to hand-glide and bungee jump and toss myself out of a perfectly good plane

I want to dedicate a WHOLE vacation to finding the fastest and most awesome roller coasters (coaster whore here)

I want to drive sports cars F-A-S-T and kiss rebels S-L-O-W

I don’t want to sit idle on a porch drinking coffee EVERYDAY

I don’t want to talk about ailments, yours OR mine

I want to LIVE each day as a gift and hope my spirit touches someone and makes him or her want to do the same.

I got yelled at the other day because I went up (just a little) in a fast food playground area to chase and tickle my kid. Even though most of the kids were taller than me (shhhh, let me finish, again with the laughing at me, sigh), I guess it was apparent I am not 12. He said, "Excuse me, uuuuuhhhhhh, Ma'am!!!! Parents are not allowed in the play area". I said, "Why not dude??? I like playing and I’m under the maximum height requirements!" gave him a quick wink and then grabbed Hoover by the foot for another tickle. He walked away, can't argue with that logic I guess. The other mothers glared at me like I was doing something outrageous (actually PLAYING with my kids in the PLAY area instead of tap, tap, tapping on my cell and drinking an iced mocha latte--the horror!).

My mom was at a toy store with my brother and me when we were tweens. We started playing with a cool new toy. A clerk ran up and yelled at us to find our parents. Mom's look and response to him added a priceless memory to my bank. Hopefully my kids will have smiling thoughts of me like that. I hope they DO remember the crazy antics I have shared with them.

I am not saying I don’t know how to or don’t want to be a grown up and be responsible. I am one of the most responsible levelheaded people I know (WAIT!!! That's scary!!!! WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!!....... The Seductress is now rocking back and forth in her chair, please stay tuned......insert elevator music here...OK, I'm back...woosh!). I just think it's OK to depart from that a bit from time to time. I want to be able to enjoy both sides of the spectrum with someone by my side that "gets it" (and then I can take him around the corner to a deserted hallway and steal passionate kisses from him without warning).

"HALIBUT YEA-AH!!" I SAID IT OUT LOUD!!!!! WHAT?????!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

WHA-HUH????? REALLY????? NOOOOO!!!!!!

So the surgeon has came up with a solution to my incision problem. The surgery on the 21st left me with many complications. I have an Infection and an incision that is very painful and does not want to heal. I think my body is on strike because of all the medical crap it's been through. And I say "hold on vessel of worldly transportation, hold on!!!” SO as you can tell I am not letting it hold me back. I hold my head high and flirt with the boys. I walk totally erect chest out- big smile, and hope they flirt back. When they walk around the corner, I bend in pain and hold my stomach grimacing; my kids promptly make fun of me. I am always aware of my surroundings. No one wants to LOOK sick. So my make-up is always divine/sparkly/happy and my hair wild and free (rock on). I am always dressed to the nines with a big smile and fake confidence. I am tired of this pain and inconvenience in my life. I want it DONE.

So, the solution that the surgeon came up with:

Wanna hear about it? Of course you do! Here I go:

I first heard of this "solution" in the car on a speaker phone convo with my PA. She said as my kid's listened "we will vacuum seal you". I thought a couple of different things. MsDebate said, "I always knew you were CHEEZY!!!! Get it Mom??? They're gonna vacuum seal you like cheese!!!!!" and hysterical laughter ensued. I then spoke, following my daughter’s comic lead "well as long as they use a good smoky marinade, get it, "marinate Mom" with the vacuum sealer like steaks!!!!????" But they didn't get it. And the PA was getting annoyed. I shut-up and listened quietly while the "Mom's CHEEZY" line worked the car audience for laughs.

I received my vacuum sealer yesterday. It came in a box the size of my car. I was afraid to open it. Today the home nurse came to install me with my latest hindrance. Imagine how sexy I feel with a 3ft tube sticking out of my shirt attached to a computer making a gurgley sucking noise. REALLY SEXY, YES I FEEL REALLY DAMN SEXY!!!!!!!!

This thing has to be on 24/7 (WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!!).

At night I have to charge up (I choose to think of it as a sexy bionic woman thing, thank you).

I will sleep plugged into a wall outlet with a gurgley computer to snuggle with me.

AWWWWWW I feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

I will be the talk of the party wearing a "medical purse" now. I can't even "bedazzle" it because it is a rental. MsDebate looked at me and said "Mom you look like one of those old ladies, oh, maybe I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry" walks out of the room to tell her sister what she said. I felt her apology was sincere (I refused to feed her dinner and drew a "sharpie" mustache on her while she napped, don't judge me). DramaGirl just smiles and makes grossed out faces at me, but then she rubs my feet (she ate Filet-Mignon with champagne and strawberries!!! ha).

As for Hoover, he calls it "Mom's 'puter" and I'm fine with that.

I turn a year older tomorrow, but today I feel I have aged enough to just skip the hoopla, sigh.

I want my health and youth and sexy back! I want to bring "sexy" back----laughing.......

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Holiday Smoooooochies!!!!!

What is it about the holidays that make the advertisers think "Hmmmmm, if they cry, they will buy???" It seems 85% of the commercials out this time of the year are emotionally driven. And since I am a sap, I cry. Like the one commercial where the son comes home and the little sister and him make coffee to wake his family. Or the one where the little boy sees Santa and wishes for something for his dad who is serving in the military, and it snows in the desert!!

Crying does NOT make me want to buy something. Laughing makes me want to buy things! But that's just me and we all know I am a "laugh whore". Join me; I can be your "laugh John"!!!!!

Some companies "take the cake" for me though (who came up with THAT saying??? It's kind of sad, somebody just coming and taking your cake. So you get the cake but you DON'T get to eat it too?? Hey,,,,, who came up with THAT saying?? Ummmmm,,,,, focus ,,,, back step ,,,, restart).

.... Now back to your previously programmed blog, already in progress....

One of the advertisers that gets me all riled up is KAY JEWELERS. Really KAY marketers????? Does EVERY kiss REALLY begin with KAY?????


I have had some pretty spectacular kisses that did NOT have ANYTHING to do with a jewelry store. But now that I'm in the great "man drought" of 2009, and soon to star in the devastating "man, I need a man plea " tour of 2010, maybe I should rethink my position about getting kissed.

Maybe if I stand INSIDE the Kay Jewelry store, holding jewelry, wearing a nice thick red knit hat, scarf and mittens (guys love that), some handsome man will run up and throw me against the glass display case and kiss me!!!!!

Two months later he'll buy me the "Embrace" pendant!!!

A few months after that I'll get the "I'll never let you go!" earrings!!!

Then the " I'm watching every move you make!" bracelet!!!

About a year in, I'll receive the "I don't care about the restraining Order!" broach!!!

Next I'll get the "So now you're duct taped in my closet!" ring!!!

All to be followed up by the "Witness protection program, sha-mogram, I found ya!" charm bracelet!!!

*****The "witness protection program, sha-mogram, I found ya!" charm bracelet comes with several LOVELY charms, like the mace can, police station and hospital charms- all specially created and meticulously hand crafted to remind you of your time together and his obsession with YOU!!!!*****

Awwwww crap,,, how precious!!!! I can only dream of romance!!!!!

And cry at the holiday commercials!!!!

And run out and buy their products like a lemming on a cliff (jump) ...........WHAT THE HALIBUT????!!!!

****Note: The jewelry items listed in this blog are completely fabricated in the mind of the Seductress only. They cannot be purchased in any retail store environment. If you are interested in this wonderful investment opportunity, you may contact "The Invisible Seductress" directly. Finance options and possible partnership/branding agreements may be considered at that time.****

Friday, November 20, 2009

Peanut butter jelly time!! Peanut butter jelly time!!!

Warning: The title really does not have anything to do with the post. I was just doing the "Peanut butter jelly time" dance (interactive blog assignment: stand up and shake your groove thang for no reason right now, it WILL make you smile, big wet puppy dog kisses to those who did!!!)

Tuesday was a weird day for me. I don't know why but I thought deep thoughts instead of college humor slapstick (it sucked). I was feeling a bit down and out still trying to recover from surgery and complications; it felt as if I would never be me again. I decided, "Hey I'll get a PPV movie"!! So I did. Stupidly, I ordered a drama. I think through the duration of this movie there were only about 5 minutes that I was not sobbing. A dinner of pickles and green olives left me with one hand full of napkins drenched in relish tray juice, and the other tear saturated napkin remnants. I thought that if a special someone were here by my side they would either be crying with me or laughing at the snot coming out of my nose (so sexy). Either way, I could recover more swiftly then I did. That thought just triggered others (of course).

In the meantime another hit from the dating site came, right at the right time I thought. Hmmmmm, let's see what we have here. We chatted it up for a bit on the site. He seemed "normal". I asked him if he was an ax murderer like me, expressing that it is so hard to find a "nice" ax murderer these days (sigh). He said he wasn't but handled my humor deftly. After a few hours I asked him to go ahead and email me and gave him my addy (like any good victim would do). He did. Then the barrage of questions came. It seems he was so wrapped up in what his perfect list of qualities would be that he forgot, hey, maybe I should like HIM too!!!! You could tell he was writing STRAIGHT from a friggin' list. This angered me; it's the woman's job to be shallow and psychotic!! How dare you invade MY territory!!! I went on to answer every question in the manner opposite of what he would want to hear. And with my flair of humor and sarcasm, I made it very believable and sincere. I am sure after the third email he thought I had already found his location and was looking in his window with a new tattoo of his face on my ass (I couldn't find him, but, I DO like the new tat!!).

I added more children, tattoos, addictions (the normal ones alcohol and circus peanuts) and I generated a lot of large angry ex's. I became his worst nightmare. It was fun navigating his responses and requisitioning. My last email reversed all of these vices and got down to the nitty gritty of RELAX DUDE!!!!! You 101 questioned the wrong girl way to soon!

Maybe looking THAT closely at every "flaw" perceived in your head about people is the REASON so many are single to begin with. What ever happened to casual conversation and learning about a person at a slower (more exciting and intimate) pace? Was it too much trouble for him to actually MEET someone before the analysis? Is he SO great that to even be IN his presence means a background check; resume and credit report is needed? If I "checked out" maybe then I could be accepted for a first date (WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!!!)!

Now I must say this dating thing has been a challenge to me. I'm just a little too laid back I think. I am not feeling the emergency of being with someone NOW-right NOW-I need it NOW!!!!! (Although I should, been navigating the "Sahara Man Dessert" for quite some time, big sigh).

There are some things that I think I may be doing wrong. Like actually having a brain. This is unnecessary to 85% of these men. I may be wrong, but is having a bimbo that agrees with EVERYTHING you say and laughs at all your one-liners all it takes? Shutting up and just looking pretty is hard for me. Not showing passion or challenging any positions is dang near impossible. I'm not gonna sip my drink sexily through a straw, pick at a salad and utter, "Ya-huh, I agree" while sticking my chest out to you (However, I will put sparkles on my cleavage so that I shine like a starry night, wink).

Should I "dumb down"? Hmmmmmmm, like OMG, I totally should!!!!

I do have issues though (like you did not know this already, ha). In talking about flaws, of course I have some immediate turn offs (I don't ask you about them in the first 10 minutes though, sigh of relief).

Wanna hear them? Of course you do here I go:

The following turn offs are only in the texting or email arena, real life turn offs to be shared at a later time (You're welcome!).

I am not a girl who is a big fan of certain abbreviations. For example: LOL - ROFL - LMAO - OMG and the like (Basically anything a preteen might text her BFF). I know that in texts "short" is better, but when a MAN types in a text or email like my 11 year old would, it shivers my timbers. I start imagining him "manscaped" perfectly, totally coordinated, carrying a man purse and MY purse in the mall. He would buy my tampons and do my toenails. He would be angry if I put a pair of argyles next to his gym socks. He would lotion his heels. I like my men balanced. I like my men---MEN!!! I need a little grit. I don't want a girlfriend. "Metro sexual" may just be a curse word. Let me see you sweat. Do stupid primal things every once in a while, please........ (hmmmm, that just got me a bit frisky, better stop, slapping myself with a Yakosobi noodle). This is not to say that a man who dresses nicely and keeps him self up is not attractive. They are, VERY, I am just saying NOT TO THE EXTREME GUYS!!! Men stay men REAL women want that!!

Yes, I am a word snob. I am not perfect and do not spell everything correct 100% of the time. I may not punctuate properly and I heart "run on sentences!!" But when it comes to "basic" words used everyday and you can't spell them, it bothers me OK????? There I said it!!

My mentor at "The American Language Virtuoso Club" says "A proper word virtuoso is understanding of the shortcomings of others and their language practices" (snicker, snort, no such club exists).

A dater that told me he wanted to be a chef emailed me today and said that he had some new "resaipies" he wanted to try out on me (no kidding folks, that was exactly what he wrote). I was flattered that he wanted to make "resaipies" ON me (blush), but couldn't get passed the way he spelled such a basic word in a field that he wishes to pursue. Me, I want to be a "rightor" and a "mahm" and a "louver" of "manee"!!!!!

Sadly this is common in 90% of the replies I get. They "LOL" me and murder the English language. Please Lord let me push that aside and see the real man behind it!!!!

I may be destined to be single here people.

A man may never enjoy watching me suck Jell-O through a straw because all the dishes are in the machine.

He may never have the joy of digging me out of the covers in the morning to see if I made it through the night.

Sadly, he may never experience my infamous wrestling move (The "Neene Hold” is IMPOSSIBLE to release yourself from).

Oh this is SOOOOOOO sad for mankind (laughing, uh yea, I'm a treasure, snort, urp, scratch).

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Trying to be Dr. Phil

Growing up I had a good friend who lived out in the country. We were always outside and always eating Pringles at her house. I remember smiling while I fed apples to one of the horses and my bare feet sunk in the sandy road. There were huge trees lined all down our path and I would look up with wind blowing through my hair in amazement of nature. Spanish moss danced in the air and the smell of hay was always prevalent. Our feet were always black. Our tongues always kissed with fresh honeysuckle.

She had a little brother named Shane. He would annoy us continuously. I actually thought he was fun to have around because he was such a livewire, but I never told her. One day as it grew dark, we sat on the porch drinking coke in the bottle with peanuts added. Her mom stuck her head out the door and beckoned "Time to come in!” Us girls knew we could hide out in a pink room and giggle all night. Shane on the other hand wanted to stay out and play. His mom grew angry and told him sternly "you come in now or you'll get a spanking!” Now the words coming out of Shane's mouth next, for some reason, struck a chord with me. To this day I can remember his dirty brown disheveled hair and even dirtier face making a decision on how to proceed in this moment. In a rough little boy voice he proclaimed: "BEAT ME MOMMY!" with total confidence.

You see Shane knew that he wanted to stay outside and play; he was willing to be in discomfort for this. He thought he was given an option and he chose accordingly. As a parent, I now know it doesn't work that way but back then I marveled at him. So happy running outside, so dedicated to retaining the moment that he would sacrifice his rear end for it.

I found my friend just recently and was told that Shane had passed in a car accident. It choked me up to think such a young man to be gone. In my head he will always be that rebel child with the determination to achieve what he wanted.

We all need to say "BEAT ME MOMMY" to the world sometimes. Taking your "hits" when faced with decisions is the right and most obvious thing to do. We are so scared to make sacrifices that we miss the point; Some things are WORTH making sacrifices for.

An extra hour or two outside on a beautiful summer day in the country is worth a spanking.

Would having many years in a good relationship be worth a few years of discomfort when it goes bad?

I had a dog for 18 years. This dog was amazing and he was a child to me. I realize that if you have not felt that bond, this sounds weird. But I did feel it. He protected my children and was ALWAYS there when I cried. He was MINE! He was the one constant in an otherwise shifting world. I could always count on the wag and the comforting big black eyes to fall on mine and make me breathe again. I had to put him to sleep on December 12, 2008. You will hear more about him in later posts. I have been grappling with getting another dog when I am still crying over him. I know there will never be another Oliver.

Would the ache of losing another dog outweigh the bliss one would give me and my kids for many years?

Are we so scared to face hurt that we are missing out on joy? I think we are. I know I have been for so long now.

This will take time to change. I think now may be the time to stop over analyzing every possible spanking and let things happen naturally.

I just hope my heart will let me take chances again.


I have more life to enjoy!

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


I was talking last blog about warning tags it would be nice to see “before” the fact, to help you decide your actions. Maybe they would help stop some of the negative things that happen in our lives. But then too you should see positive tags on people, right?? I mean come on; it’s the holiday season; I need to share some positive tags to lift spirits and give you that warm comfy feeling right?? (Uh,, er,, yes,, but,, not today,, hit me up next week on Thanksgiving,, (my birthday) because ah hell, then I’ll be older and wiser!! And maybe not as much fun as I am now at this "young" age,, laughing,, yea that’ll happen, urp, snort)!!

Welcome to:


**On your daughters teacher, at the conference, because your daughter talks too much in class (wonder where she gets that from? Hmmmmm, slinking out of parenthesis)**

Warning tag reads:

Uh, I am like 24 and I have no children. I wonder how you could be such a HORRIBLE parent that your child talks in MY class. Please just nod in agreement and reprimand her strongly. Also take a parenting class. Could we hurry this up as well? I’m only wearing this sweet flowery dress until you leave. Then I’ll “skank” it up because I’m gonna go drankin’ with my whole posse’ of non-parenting friends. I will talk about how horrendous a parent you are! I will also and laugh and snort at the way you looked sitting in that miniature desk. OMG!!!! IT WAS SOOOOOOO FUN-NAAAAY!!!!!

**On the sales lady at Victoria’s Secret**

Warning tag reads:

Oh my word, you are not smaller than an “A” cup like me. You actually have woman breasts I would pay for, ahem. I am sorry that none of the flimsy lingerie in this store would even come close to supporting those. You are a department store tit person. Please move along and let me help the 15 year old behind you. We have 12,052 beautiful bras that will fit her pre-pubescent body (WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!!!).

**On the glass of Vodka in your hand**

Warning tag reads:

Excuse me, hello??? Um, 2 more of these and the caveman across the bar will look REALLY attractive to you. His hairy knuckles and lisp will do amazing things to your libido. This will lead to a sore scalp and road rash as he drags you into his man cave. This might also trigger the desire to wear head to toe animal print. This is a look only works for Fred Flintstone. Wait, did he just BUY you ANOTHER?????? HEY!!!! You are slurping me down too qui………..

**On the EX from years and years ago that texts you every 6 months to tell you he is “sorry” and he misses you**

Warning tag reads:

I am not sorry. The revolving door of bimbo’s and ho’s are leaving me nostalgic about having a REAL woman and a REAL relationship. If you take me back this would last approximately 2 ½ months and then another bimbo will beckon me to the abyss. You can NEVER change me.

**Hanging from the entire cereal aisle**

Warning tag reads:

You are ADDICTED to cereal. What’s your flippin’ deal with it? Its sweet flavor and milky goodness are very bad for you. Even if you get the healthiest kind you will try to choke it down by adding 3 cups of sugar. You have a problem and need help. Leave this aisle immediately!!!! No!!!! Put it down, it’s not REALLY for your kids!!!! The cute cartoon character on the front will not suffer if you reject him. Go get fruit its GRRRRRRReat!!!!!

There!!!! Well I hope you enjoyed this latest installment (bowing, flipping hair, blowing kisses).

It would be so fun for a lonely gal like me if you added a few of your own (I have no life and the Ice Cream truck still drives by playing Christmas music EVERY day frightening me)!!!

The blog guy I’m blog crushin’ on (swooooon, grrrrrrrr) added “future ex-wife”(or hubby) to my other list of tags!!! That’s PERFECT!!!! That one would save a heck of a lot of trouble!!!!! SMILE---- But then, maybe it would make you miss some good times too, hmmmmm…(Seductress ponders looking to the sky, scratching her chin intuitively and then decides)…CRAP, put that tag on,,,,,,,,,,,QUICK!!!!!!

Monday, November 16, 2009

My first blog award!!! Woohoo!!! Swirling round naked with my Gary Coleman life size cut out!!

Thank you Trey (xoxo) for the honor and now that I understand what I was supposed to do (see, I'm not a loser, just a slow starter!!), I am doing it,, and it feels GOOD!! Really friggin' good! Like first kiss good! Like sweaters outta the dryer good!! Like cookin' a steak on your own hottness good (I have serious issues, but it's OK, my therapist says as long as I KNOW I have them I'll be fine, rocking back and forth,,, wink)!!

Hope I did this right if not, find me and slap me down (please, I swear I won't like it one bit, well, maybe not SWEAR I won't more like I'll try NOT to like it!!! Giggle)!!!!

For the one who chose me:
Smart, witty, reality based fun reading from a hot guy!!

Here are my choices:
By:Huntz-----Just a whole barrel of monkey fun!!!!
Dating disasters and fun tales we can all relate to!!!!
By:Jan-----Decorating fun for all!!!!

But everyone rocks here on Blogger....These are just a few that step out to me.

Da Rules:

Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.

Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog.

Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Warning: Objects in blog may be closer than they appear!!!

My new curling iron wields a harsh warning on the box. You should never curl you hair while sleeping. Multi-tasker be damned, you will not be saving any time in the morning.

My heating pad is also not a floatation device. Who knew? I had to cancel my white water rafting vacation because now I don’t have enough floatation devices. Thanks a lot SunBeam Inc.!

Do we REALLY need to be warned about such stupid things? I am sure some do but for the most part I think we grasp: Gasoline and hairspray are highly flammable; Coffee is HOT!!! (And the like).

A warning that might have helped me out would have been on a container of Icy Hot last night.

I was all snuggled up and had had a long day when my shoulder started aching. I decided I WANTED to smell like an 86 year old woman and slathered Icy Hot on my shoulder. True to “86 year old” form, I had to potty. Maybe it was the “reposition paper wipe” move that caused some extra Icy Hot to grace me down there, but I lit up like a college bonfire! I ran into the kitchen. Threw a skillet on her and cooked a steak before correcting the situation (I’m thrifty AND now a viral video on You Tube!!).

***Note: I am a liar; my dinner prep was a private matter. There are no video recorded logs of this incident. I apologize in advance if YOU looked on You Tube!! ***

But, as things ALWAYS do, it did get me thinking about warnings I would LOVE to see on certain things and situations.

Would'nt it be nice to walk up to a situation or person before the BS starts and read a large warning tag attached to them/it? I made up a few examples for you. They are a little long, but please stay for the ride.

Wanna hear them? Of course you do! Here I go:

**On the Oreo package**

Warning tag reads:

I realize that you are considering this purchase as a “weekend treat” for the kids. But we BOTH know what will REALLY happen. After midnight the crisp milk in the fridge will beckon you. You will consume 86% of this package. This will spontaneously cause cellulite to emerge on your thighs and rear. The individual divots will be embedded with the word “Oreo”. This means no man will EVER be attracted to you unless you are entirely submerged in milk.

**On the handsome man in front of you in the store line. The one who is wearing a wedding ring and flirting with you openly**

Warning tag reads:

I am an ass. I am not separated OR getting divorced. I find you attractive and have no morals. I want in your skirt (it was a very pretty skirt, sorry for the interruption). If you have a shred of dignity and an ounce of intelligence left in your little sex depraved body, you will follow these instructions. Back your cart up whistling. Go stand in the aisle where the hairy, big chested, no bra wearing woman with 15 kids and lost hope is. Just say’n.

**On the pink jogging pants with “sexy” or “baby girl” written across the rear**

Warning tag reads:

You are 40-something for goodness sakes!! Do you really want to advertise your caboose in this manner? I know you THINK you’ll never go out in them (at least I hope you thought that!), but the day will come and you will, also ma’am, just as a side note; the slight roll to the juvenile words on display is VERY unflattering to the size appearance of your assets.

**On the girl at the

Warning tag reads:

I am not on a business call. I will flip this piece of paper and scribble something on it just to look convincing to all around. I will also say loudly the following words: Automobile, Insurance and Drivers License.
This will make my boyfriend (to whom I am REALLY talking to) call me a “bad girl” and I will smile briefly. I could care less that you and 50 others with long “to do” lists have been standing there for 30 minutes.

**On the car sales guy with the gold chains and cologne issue**

Warning tag reads:

You are not my “friend”. I don’t even consider you human. I want you to pay $5,000.00 extra and 3% higher than you should for this P.O.S. vehicle that I DID NOT personally look over and drive. It also DID NOT just come in today from an elderly couple with ALL highway miles. You should also purchase my insurance and warranties at over double the cost at a real bank, because I smiled at you. Now, act like the unprepared buyer that I know you are and sign my deal so my idiot boss can call my name and ring his cowbell in the morning.

This is fun! I am sensing a Sunday issue of this coming on. I hope you enjoyed the ride!!!

**Note: If any of these characters seem personal, they are not. They are all fictional characters made for your reading enjoyment. Any similarities between yourself and the characters are purely coincidental (if however you are feeling like you may be the Oreo package or Jogging pants, I really have no therapy to suggest for you, I’m sorry).

Thursday, November 12, 2009

OH "N'YET", I DIDN'T!!!!! OH "DAH", I DID!!!!

OK,, so WHAT THE HALIBUT is this screwed up title about your asking yourself ( You know asking yourself questions is kinda weird, I'm thinking maybe I could offer some therapy, laughing). Well since you asked yourself soooo nicely, I'll answer for you later.

I was dusting and was working on one of my favorite shelves. I thought of you all (awwww). It was the shelf with my Matryoshka Dolls on it (Russian nesting Dolls, see I'm cultured hmmpf, snort!)

I purchased these in 1993 in Russia's beautiful Red Square. A small framed young lady with sparkling dark eyes and tattered clothes came up peddling them. She looked a lot like the doll she had painted and I could not resist the purchase even though I had purchased 5 other sets previously. She only wanted $5 American dollars, I gave her $20 and a pack of M&M's with a smile. This was an unbelievable place to be and I always wanted to remember that moment and how it felt to travel somewhere so majestic. It worked; these exquisite dolls have become a prized possession to me.

It was the first time I had ever been anywhere, it was my first plane trip, and the first time I REALLY realized a love for the unknown.

Why was I there in Moscow (OK, now I am worried about you and your self asking tendencies, still I'll answer, although I'll back up from you if I see you in the alley, ha).

I was actually there in Moscow for only a short time, my true destination? SIBERIA!!

There was a very small and scary airport that we arrived at after a long paper plane ride from Moscow (it might as well have been paper, it was flimsy, but they served wine, I compensated my nerves and did a little karaoke with an older Russian lady, we made up the words, but the smiles 100% authentic!).

The town was called Nizhneangarsk and it was the "BIG" town before we got to our real destination, an oil town called Langapas (that does not even show up on the map of Siberia). "Nizhne" was big because it had about a 500 square foot airport AND a restaurant.

What they called a restaurant was actually owned by a French Canadian (weird) and employed by local Russian women. We went there without our translator. We were asked to order 4-5 dozen cookies by the men who were already in Langapas working. The girls tried to understand us. We said 4 dozen-baked cookies about 1,000 times before one looked me in the eyes and said "Dah, YES, 4 dozen-baked" in a charming trial American voice. We smiled at the understanding. Around 10 minutes later the French Canadian bounded out of the kitchen to us. He was very plump, dressed all in white and had a divine face built for smiling. His English, much better and his belly rolled when he laughed trying to repeat the order back to us. "So, YOU the ones ordering 4-5 dozen pieces of cooked bacon!!!????" There were laughs all around and it was a moment.

We then met up with our translator and his friend. their names were Slavic and Vladimir (no, I am not making this up!!!). After Three hours white knuckled on a tiny road and stopping at every checkpoint to be evaluated thoroughly, we arrived in Langapas, my home for the next few months.

Everything after Moscow was black and white, no greenery, blue skies or flowers. It was all just muted, devoid of life. There were about 15 large apartment buildings in a square formation. The company would rent apartments from locals for us to stay in. They were paid very well for this inconvenience. No matter if you had 1 family member or 20, everyone got the same exact floor plan there. Two tiny adjacent rooms, a kitchen and a "bathroom" that made me shiver each time I went in it.

The men were all oil workers there and we had recruited a few to help us as laborers. We were building a processing plant that would allow the areas around to have dairy products. They could choose what to make as they were all powder based.

The town folk were aware of our presence and knew we were there to help them. Still, Mob activity was very high and we were cautioned to tread lightly when we recognized the players. They were not really hard to recognize. Long coats, with one hand buried deep inside, wide stances and dark faces patrolling next to one of only a few vehicles in town (BMW's). It was an unnerving sight I contended with everyday. We were told not to look them in the eyes and be respectful. I walked by myself from the plant to the apartment everyday to start dinner for the workers. One "Mob" guy took a liking to me and would make faces and smile flirtatiously when I walked by. I smiled back quietly and offered him bread (we bought 2-3 loaves a day at a little square building, BEST bread I had ever tasted). My last day there he presented me with a loaf of bread and an awkward hug.

I was there to black iron weld (yes, I said weld! SHOCKER!!!!!) There outfitted with my pink splashed welders helmet and long leather gloves, I was a spectacle. Russian men do not want their women working OR wearing pants and I was doing both. At least daily a Russian would run towards me screaming "N'yet, N'yet" and take a tool from me shaking his head. It was charming and funny to see. They called me "Taz" because I had a jacket with a patch of the Tasmanian devil on it. I couldn't understand them, they couldn't understand me but still friendships grew. They would take two fingers and pop the left side of their neck to indicate that it was time for Vodka.

One day our interpreter came and asked if we would like to shoot guns with the Russian Police. The men jumped at the opportunity (I was the only girl there). I thought it sounded awesome but still had a funny feeling. We drove and drove AND drove. Siberia is already in the middle of freaking NOWHERE. There were oil fields on both sides of the car for at least an hour, NOTHING else.

In one field it was particularly black but in the middle a solitary sunflower grew tall and bright. It was so vivid and happy, a striking portrait against the vast nothingness. That also was a sight I will never forget.

About 30 minutes later the Police car stopped and two men got out and started speaking to our interpreter. I cracked my knuckles nervously as they glared in at me. I heard Slavic say "Dah" (yes) with a smile, but had no idea what was being agreed to. The police decided to stop and get Beer (pronounced "pee-vah") and vodka. I thought "uh, N'yet Spa-ceba" (no thank you!). But had no voice in the decision. I asked if the Police ACTUALLY liked "Americaneets". Slavic said yes, laughing with a rumble.

We finally came to a few man made hills and got out to fire what I then found out were AK-47's!!!! I had never shot a gun before and was excited about firing a machine gun in Russia with the Russian Police (who does that?? I did!!!!!!)

Wanna hear what happened? Of course you do, here I go:

When it was my turn I chose to single shot some first and get the feel. There were bottles and cans piled everywhere for targets. Surprisingly I hit almost every target I shot for, it was amazing and the men were impressed. Then an officer came to me to up the bounty and let me shoot rapid fire. I felt the power and might and loved the adrenaline pounding through my veins. They gave me as much time as I liked laughing at my excited antics.

When I was done (like I said, never shot a gun before) instead of directing the gun towards the ground, I twirled around with it still in shooting position. Seeing 15 men and 8 Russian Police drop to the ground screaming was another thing I will never forget.

So that explains the title of this blog:

"OH NO, I DIDN'T!!!!! OH YES, I DID!!!!!!!"

See it all makes sense now, You're Welcome!!!!!

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Encounter

A few weeks ago at the Mart we had an incident in the meat aisle. DramaGirl was singing Taylor Swift. MsDebate was by my side talking about the grocery list and what needed to be added to it. Hoover sat in the cart talking to everyone that went by and singing with his sister -until - He spotted a Palmetto bug. He screamed at the top of his toddler lungs "Ewwww, NASNEEEEEE a “CROCKCROACH”-Look sistors, Ewwwww NASNEE!!!! Get it; It’s a “CROCKCROACH”!!! It’s in the MEAT!!!!!"

As the passer Byers looked on I was horrified. DramaGirl ran screaming 20 feet ahead for safety. An employee heard the chaos and came out quickly to avert attention. "Geeze, that’s Florida for ya! We spray ALL the time!" He spoke loudly with purpose, and then the crunch of death was heard... (Clean up in the "gross image" in my head aisle. Clean up in the "gross image" in my head aisle).

Hoover continued sharing the “crockcroach” warning in the meat with everyone that passed by until I thwarted him with a free sugar cookie from the bakery.

I’m not an overly girly-girl but there’s something about a palmetto bug that just seems wrong. I should never have to deal with them. With three girls in the house this is an issue. When one shows its mug (usually in the back play room (great) because it’s right off the pool) we all freak out. MsDebate fortunately seems to be the one gal who will kill them if bribed properly. She does this with little or no screaming, she has saved our lives many times and will even dispose of the remains (I love her, I’ll not trade her in just for that!).

DramaGirl on the other hand, screams like a banshee and locks herself in her room for at least 20 minutes, cracking the door to make sure the coast is clear. I am almost just as bad.

One day MsDebate had the cruel idea of throwing a raisin towards the door at one of the door cracking intervals. Now really as a mother I should have been against this idea from the get go. But I’m not right so I considered some factors before making my final decision:

1. Trauma factor: How long would it take to talk her off drama’s edge?

2. Ammo: As many times as she has embarrassed me, this would be a perfect story for the arsenal of the "embarrassing things to tell your boyfriend" list I am compiling

3. Laugh factor: How high on the scale would this be AFTER the fact? (DramaGirl actually LOVES telling stories like this and months after hits me with a play by play recap. It sounds like this: "Remember when I… (Fill in blank).... awwww,,,, good times mommy!! (Dramatic pause) GOOD TIMESSSSS!"

I decided to fly with it (don’t judge I know I’m awful). It went down just as I thought it would and she did end up laughing about it. And Hoover, before I could stop him, ended up eating the raisin saying: "see, jus’ a raisin Ri-wey, jus’ a raisin!"

Now to get to the REAL reason I am writing this nasnee tale today:

Wanna hear about it? Of course you do! Here I go:

A little over a month ago I had a major problem in the garage. A HUGE “crockcroach” met me about 3 feet in front of the door every time I opened it. He would scurry to me unafraid.

In my head I envisioned an old time western gunfight. Dust swirling in the air, saloon music playing in the background. Tumbleweeds rolling past while the famous gunfight whistle song plays loudly (interactive blog request: whistle this: woo-wee-woo-wee-wooooooooo,, dun, DUN DUN. Hey it worked in MY head, maybe there’s something wrong with your whistling!)

There I am in the middle of the road looking sexy in my chaps and studded hat, holstered Raid cans inches from my readied hands. “Crockcroach” staring me down ready to play chicken with me (what, like he would have a gun holster or be wearing chaps, geeze,, it’s a BUG --- who’s got issues now! Laughing).

Anyway it went on like this for weeks, the same roach, the same position. How COULD it be the SAME roach I questioned myself? WEIRD!!!!! (I wondered if it was like a Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen twin thang, the roach siblings switched up as to not break any buggy labor laws, hmmmm).

We kinda had an agreement, he never scurried toward me and I respected his space. I talked to him firmly and he stayed outside.

I named him "Peeve" so he could be my “pet peeve” (I know I am sick, you know I’m sick, WHAT THE HALIBUT??)

A few days ago I had to go directly in his path, nervously I pulled out a fishing pole to convince him to go the other way for a bit. He didn’t move. I thought he had huge bug nads. I pushed harder. It was then that I confirmed the fact that I am a raging idiot!

I had been having a battle of wits with a dead bug. I’m not sure when he perished but I do know he won the honor of making me feel stupid with no contest.

(I share this story with you ONLY because I trust you will never tell anyone about my stupidity,, you’ll do this because you love me, thank you. I’m glad we understand each other!)

Monday, November 9, 2009

Aw GEEZE,,,,,,did I really do THAT?

Well,, I am still down and out health wise so everyday activity is rough. I have had the kids staying with family until my strength comes back ( I love you Christina and Scott!!). It's been lonely and I am finding that I talk to myself a little bit too much to be normal, I'm working on it (no, she's not-yes she is-hush up).

DramaGirl decided that she wanted to spend the weekend with me. I suspected it was to get away from her sister and have free reign on the TV and computer here. I was wrong. She rubbed my feet (with lotion, I was rosy and soft) and brought me blankets and laid with me. And we talked-REALLY talked (mostly about boys, I suspect we both kinda like 'em!). I was impressed at what I raised and sad at how fast it was being raised. It started me thinking on the new mommy mistakes I made, two in particular I will share today.

Wanna hear about them? Of course you do, here I go:

My oldest was the prettiest little toddler EVER and always stopped traffic, my pride and joy. She was around 3 when she got a pretty good sized rash in her diaper and rear area. I babied the heck out of her and wanted to take the pain for her. We had special cream that really helped with the discomfort.

In the middle of the night my footed pajama princess wandered in complaining about the rash. I jumped up loved on her and took her in the bathroom for the cream. Not wanting to fully awaken her I decided to leave the lights off and opened the drawer and grabbed the cream singing sweetly to calm her. I slathered on a large amount before the screams started and the waft of mint hit my nose (turns light on). I had liberally coated my babies cherry red microscopic behind with Arm & Hammer mint tooth paste (with baking soda for extra whiteness!!!) Horrified I bent her in half and in the sink and splashed water on her rear quarter until she stopped crying (it took me a lot longer to stop crying). She did have minty fresh farts for weeks though! ............AWFUL HUH?

Well,, heres the next one,,, geesh.

After the divorce I had bought a small 2 bedroom for us. The girls would share a room. I had the great idea to use a trundle bed so there would be more play room in the day for them. I could pull it out just enough for her tiny body and just shove it back under the main bed in the morning (I am so brilliant,, there touch my sleeve,, ha). It gave them room to move around and play. They were about 5 and 3 at the time and life was hectic. One night the oldest who slept on the top, complained of a stomach ache so I coddled her and put her to bed. At 2AM I hear "Mom, I frowed up!!" in a sad little cry and bounded out of bed thinking "yup, this is bad". It was, I whistled, acted like I saw nothing and walked backward out of the room (well at least that's how I wanted it to play out).

My oldest had not a drop of frow up on her. My youngest still slumbering sweetly was covered head to toe in a nice warm blanket of upchuck. She never woke up. I readied a warm bath and a change of sheets and night clothes before gingerly picking her up and carrying her to the tub. Heaving I worked very hard trying not to add to the frow up situation at hand. She was STILL asleep. She remained asleep until I started washing her hair. With a horrified look and in a completely toddler cute voice she squeaked "What are WHO doin' to meeeeeeeee???" Her sister quickly fessed up "Ri-wey, I frowed up on yoooooooou!". After it was over I cried, praying that I could handle this on my own.

But,,,,,, I AM somehow. I suspect I will never stop worrying about how I will do things but will always know that I WILL do them to the best of my ability and with the love that only parents know.

Cherish your children! TODAY is the last day they will be this EXACT AGE! Everyday we lose another day of childhood.

......and BTW 9 out of 10 dentists agree you should NOT use toothpaste as diaper cream.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Sassie-Sue and her John

****wanted to blog but still groggy, so,,if this doesn't make sense,, take the same pain meds I'm on and it will.*****

Getting home from a long hospital stay should be joyous, EXCEPT you hurt like hell, your house is STILL dirty (little "Medical Cleaning Fairies" be damned, I now cease to believe in you) and the bills stacked on the counter are not even ONE envelope shorter then when you left. Oh and also there is NO food. Since I have no help and can't drive, I have not ventured to go shopping. I can not even walk erect yet. I may be a lot of things but I'll be damned if I am going to the Dixie looking like a Neanderthal (even with FANTASTIC make up and hair, wink, nudge, maybe I would fit in at the Mart if I wore my pink velour pants with "sexy" written on the arse,, hmmm). Thank God the neighbor lady came over and brought me a package of "Pumpkin Peeps" or I would certainly perish (they don't cut very nice with my fine china and cutlery but the orange grit and microscopic chocolate facial features fill me with joy........

(note to my beloved Circus Peanuts,,where the hell were you when I needed you, I am rethinking this whole damn relationship..
I would normally take this time to talk about THIS particular 12 day hospital stay but there are forks in the house and I might gouge my eyes out. So instead I will share another hospital story with you because you are my captive audience now and can't look away from the screen... Just try,,,, see,,,, you can't ,,,, smooooooch.

You wanna hear about it? Of course you do here I go:

It was a bright and sunny spring day when my gallbladder decided to fall apart (really,,, insert no laughter here). I mean I knew we were having some hard times but I really thought the "Organ Couples Retreat" weekends were working (sure there was that cute Appendix tramp I saw him mackin' on, but whateva' ,, I don't really NEED him anymore anyway!!! And what's HE gonna do with a Appendix,, I mean she was practically bursting out of her seams, just another useless organ in my book,, hook up with a tonsil next time stupid (but I'm not bitter!!??? ((sniffle, snort)), So off to the ER I skipped.

I was all comfy in my cement Serta hospital bed (with my pillow filled with a blimps worth of nonessential air,, why,, really,,why) when they brought my neighbor in. She was obviously being carried in by her eyelashes because there is no other excuse for the bitching that was permeating the air. I was on the other side of my fabric protective privacy wall (for my comfort and so that I would not be disturbed (...WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!!!).

In the next hours I heard the feebly spoken phrase "I gotta go potty " 150 times. I heard the stern yet kind answer "you have a catheter, just go" 175 times. These were the BEST parts of our stay together. I am tolerant and quiet most of the time. My most demanding request was a glop of Jello BETWEEN my diet of broth and water (BTW how the heck CAN you screw up JELLO???? they did!!!!)

I never saw her face as she had it completely covered with blankets when I journeyed to the bathroom. Her snoring rumbled as the only sign of life. She slept all day so that she could entertain the nurses and me all night, she was a giver.
This woman stole my nurses, I'd call she'd steal them for something trivial and before I could peep, they were gone. This happened 1,565 times. I was in hell.

The the day faded into night and her husband John came to visit. Finally, I thought sweetly, there would be love and compassion for this poor woman and possibly some peace for me. This was not the case. The next hours were spent with her fighting with John and him evading the conversations completely. The main source of derision was "Sassie-Sue", her beloved Yorkie mix puppy. I know everything about Sassie, where she likes to pee (apparently it's cute AND important that John takes her there EVERY hour so she does not get an infection). I know where she sleeps and how much she should eat (and that John had BETTER be mixing dry and wet correctly). John did his best to remain silent through EVERY subject. In fact I don't recall John ever once saying something to his wife that did not revolve around the lovely chocolate pudding on her tray (which he later ate and then talked about AGAIN), She continued rambling until John got up in the middle of her sentence and said "bye, see you Tomorrow, Church cooked me dinner" and left. At this point she CONTINUED talking to him. I excused myself politely and explained softly that he had left. There was silence, until this sweet lady said to me coarsely "be quiet, I was CERTAINLY not talking to you!" (and I think she hmmpf'd me but it could have been a cough)

That night and EVERY other night at 1 in the morning my roomie felt the urge for a #2 party (she was very regular, it lasted from about 1 to about 3 in the morning). She wouldn't go in her diaper, she didn't want to get up and sit on a portable potty, and she certainly did not want help to the restroom. Hours of screaming and begging ensued. There would be at least 4 nurses and me involved. We all cheered her on relentlessly. I lay in my bed cheering as well,, just go,,, just go,, you'll feel so much better,,rah rah rah!!!!

When I knew the act was going to begin, I readied myself for the stench. I made my own twist on a Dutch Oven. I had a big bottle of Calgon body spray (Tahition Escape, if you're playing the home game) and liberally sprayed it under my sheets. Quickly I would cover my head and wait. Re-dousing and ducking in numerous times to stake out the ratio of air contamination. One nurse joined me laughing.

And what of Sassie-Sue you ask???? This is the part of the story where you may lose respect for me or love me more.

This poor woman talked in her sleep. She would ramble about everything, Wisconsin cheese, outhouses, sheep, log cabins and other things I could not make out. But mostly she pined for Sassie-Sue and called for John. I was not touching the "John" thing but night after night of the Sassie-Sue sadness wore me down. One night as she cried for her pup I mustered up a few of my best Yorkie puppy yips and shared them nervously. I started low and quietly and then a little louder. This instantly quieted her.

Every night from then on I played the proud role of Sassie-Sue!!

............ and lets not forget, I'll always have my Calgon take me away Dutch Oven experience.

ahhhhh memories,,,,,yip, yip, wag