As I Was Saying…

11 Feb

I’ll just let the narrative of where I’ve been for almost a year unfold on its own. In its own time and way. I’ll briefly say that I stopped reading pretty much anything online except anything about hilarious autocorrect incidents. I don’t care how dumb they are, I love that stuff. I made a pledge not to read anything that baited me with CLICK HERE TO SEE WHAT SHE DID or LEARN THIS ONE WEIRD TRICK. That cut down on about 80% of my internet time. I didn’t totally quit Facebook, but I walked out on Twitter. I wish I could say I went out and got a life, but if you’ve read this blog at all you know that requires pants. And you’ll know how I feel about pants.

Let me also tell you this up front. I will not be talking about vaccinations. I’m not going down that rabbit hole. I’m not going to talk about how completely selfish, ignorant, fatuous, narcissistic, narrow-minded, and totally asshatted it is not to vaccinate/immunize your children. Nope. Go somewhere else for that. Like here, for example.

What I WILL discuss with impunity is 50 Shades. Because that shit is hysterical. I will also discuss house cleaning, periods, marriages, abortion, gays, straights, blacks, whites, other regional person shades, my parents, my husband (THE SAINT, but no longer The Ham King), the birds in my backyard, my crazy friends, I’d talk about my sane friends if I had any, underwear and lack thereof, my discovery of Outlander, text messages from my mother, the crickets in our storage closet, what I learned from not watching news regularly, and my need of suggestions for a really good concealer and a conditioner that doesn’t smell like an overworked stripper dipped in coconut car freshener.

I’m also taking suggestions about what animal, vegetable, or mineral I should replace the YAAT bird with. Or if I should replace it at all. If I shouldn’t then blerghe or she needs a name, so I’m open to that as well. Standard Life Coach will be making an appearance, so email your questions using the contact form on this page.

Several of you have been kind enough to ask after my imaginary twins Sizzlene and Formicadinette. Sadly, their birth mother who lives in one of those square states has regained custody of them after realizing their earning potential in the child beauty pageant business and Formicadinette’s ability to make a casserole from little more than and can of creamed corn and Velveeta. Since the are imaginary, they will never grow older and can make quite a killing off the Babee Lil’ Miss Shiny Eyelash Glamour Tot pageant circuit. I’m happy for them, obviously. And, quite frankly, Sizzlene’s inability to master the twirl-n-curtsy was really getting on my nerves. For those of you concerned about The Ham King’s sanity, I’m happy to report that he still would like a life-size Cylon Centurion and enjoys a good hat. And he’s still practiced in the art of diplomacy, but he is no longer The Ham King. I suppose he is now The Nonmetallic Thermal And Acoustical Insulation Production King, but that just doesn’t have the same ring to it. I am extremely happy in his change of kingdoms, as is he.

I was going to finish this post up and go eat delicious homemade chocolate chip and pecan cookies, but I can’t make the damn things. I can’t make chocolate chip cookies. I can make a brown sugar cookie that looks like it should be on the cover of a baking magazine and tastes like eight kinds of heaven, but my chocolate chip cookies ALWAYS come out too cake-like. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. But that does mean I have an entire mixing bowl of cookie dough. So there’s that. Any ideas on why EVERY cookie recipe and technique I use comes out wrong would be greatly appreciated. Could it be I’m getting the sugars and butter too fluffy? Maybe it’s my ass’s way of telling me to slow down with the cookies? Whatever, there are no good cookies and no Cheetos in the house, so I haz a sad.

If you are a new reader, welcome. If you are a returning reader, thank you. I shall endeavor to deserve your time. Just kidding. Ima totally waste it and make you have to read Chekhov to get your IQ back up.

2015

7 Feb

yeah and another thingI took a sabbatical that sucked. I left, almost totally, all social media. By that I mean I will always love to Facebook stalk. I just cain’t quit it. There was a little bit of method to this madness. A madness I will explain at a later date because I’ll be writing again, kids. Daddy and I have discussed it and Mommy is a much nicer person when she is vomiting all over the internet (See also: Nicer with Xanax). Okay, so much nicer is a relative term. Like jumbo shrimp. Or funny Jay Leno joke.

Point is, Yeah, And Another Thing will be relaunching next week. Don’t expect a makeover like how Abercrombie and Fitch used to sell hella good waxed hunting jackets, but now they sell clothes for prostitots. It will be better. But not like better like you upgraded from a 2003 Motorola flip to an iPhone 6. More like, um, you changed the oil in your ’77 Gremlin. Yeah. But you still have the original tires, no AC, and just an AM radio.

I know some of you regularly check to see if something new has posted and some of you have been kind enough to contact me to make sure I’d not fallen in a sewer grate. I really appreciate it. I DO THIS FOR YOU!

Notes From A Doctor’s Waiting Room

4 Mar
  1. xanax for dinner It is too cold in the waiting room. This, according to the ladies nearest me. It is apparently a conspiracy that has something to do with insurance fraud.
  2. The coffee table is too small for this space.
  3. The same ladies who are cold and find the interior decorating lacking have just recited the weather report for the next. ten. days.
  4. If you need to feel young and vital, hang out in the waiting room of an eye clinic that primarily does cataract surgery.
  5. All contemporary Christian music sounds the same.
  6. I had forgotten how OBSESSED people in South Mississippi are with precipitation of any sort.
  7. Walmart is “controlled by Benton Arkansas.”
  8. With the prices we are all paying for healthcare, apparently there should be a larger TV in the waiting area.
  9. My next job will be one where I can wear scrubs. Scrubs are awesome.
  10. I have dealt with so many doctors in my life, I get itchy when they don’t just get to the point.
  11. I have used the phrase, “How the cow ate the cabbage” THREE times today and it’s not even noon.
  12. I blame my friend Laura Leigh for number eleven.
  13. It doesn’t matter where you’re from, everyone understands what a come to Jesus is.
  14. There are three floor drains in this room. Whoever decided this should be awarded the Medal of Freedom.
  15. All floors should have drains.
  16. I can leave all my stuff in my chair to go to the restroom because there is no one in this room who could move quickly enough to swipe my stuff before I got back.
  17. People watching should be an Olympic Sport. Both summer and winter.
  18. Husbands who steer their wives through the door by putting their hands on the small of their wives’ backs are the best.
  19. If I ever write a mystery novel, my nom de plume will be Benton Arkansas.
  20. What were we thinking with the whole brown lipstick thing and why is it still a thing?

 

A Brief Update

20 Feb

You know how when a dog gets all in a skunk’s business you’re supposed to bathe him in tomato juice? It doesn’t work on humans.

PARTICULARLY WHEN IT’S SPICY V8 JUICE.

Which reminds me of this time I was at the beach and our neighbor heard that meat tenderizer is good for jellyfish stings so she kept some in her bag. So I get stung by this whale of a jellyfish, come running out of the water, she comes flying towards me and starts liberally dousing me with…wait for it…garlic salt.

Come to think of it, what is it with me and food on my body in emergency situations?

Briefly

20 Feb

tweet yallYes, I’ve been off social media for a while. Didn’t notice? Congratulations, YOU have a life.

Because I have some friends who are having weird horrible days today, let me just tell you that NOT ONLY did I burst into tears in the Auto Zone parking lot, I had to use Fix-A-Flat and CANNOT get the stench off me. I have showered AND rubbed my hands with alcohol. I have just washed my hands with vanilla extract. Now I am high and smell like a delightful baked treat.

YOU ARE WELCOME, INTERNET!!

The Bucket Shrub

12 Dec

Sucking The Life Out Of The Holidays

My husband found four shrubs and a palm tree by the side of the road. Well, it’s not really a palm. It’s some kind of giant fern with a weird (PORN NAME ALERT!) hairy trunk. And it’s like four feet tall except now it’s dead. Or maybe it’s just resting, what do I know about plants?

We have some neighbors who have a lawn care business and generally leave the carcasses of shrubs and other assorted flora in the Designated Trash Spot which is the fence at the culvert. This is the best place in Memphis to find and leave Stuff. Chuck and his friend Alan hauled out our busted washing machine a few months ago and by the time they’d finished a beer to reward themselves for the manly job they’d done, the sucker was gone. I once saw this great end table and by the time I circled back around to pick it up, it was gone. I saw a middle aged woman in a Mercedes sedan try to pick up two club chairs and put them in her trunk. It’s like the FAO Schwarz of junk. On Black Friday.

I don’t know why these particular plants were put out to pasture. They were all healthy. The four shrubs have been sitting in their pots in front of Chuck’s garden forming a nice hedgerow. But it’s Christmas and I’m Southern. By law, I must decorate the house in some fashion. Usually, I just put a ribbon around a bottle of Jim Beam and call it a day. This morning I stuck a shrub in the ice cream freezer.

Part of Chuck’s dowry was a White Mountain ice cream freezer. You know the one. Wooden bucket, loud motor. He comes from a big ice cream-making clan, but that’s another post. Believe me. I really liked the bucket and being a gal on a budget, I stuck it at my front door and threw some greenery in it. It looked really cool. Then, of course, I let the greenery turn brown. You’ll know my house by the ice cream freezer full of sticks decorating the front porch. Oh, and spring before last a squirrel nested in it. So that was nifty.

But this morning I looked at the pumpkins (from his garden, thankyouverymuch) and frost-bitten croton and thought, damn. I should be embarrassed. I mean, I’m not. But I should be. So I grabbed a shrub, threw out the nest and the pumpkins, and now my porch is about a quarter of the way to being festive. I’m going to hang some glass balls on my bucket shrub. Maybe put a wreath on my door. OBVIOUSLY, I will be putting Fernando The Yard Flamingo in his Santa outfit. By that point I’ll be exhausted and need to recouperate by watching Love Actually for the 4,593th time. And I’ll probably require a cheeseburger.

Then I’ll wait with a finger or two of bourbon for a really pissed off squirrel to come banging on my door wanting to know how in the hell I thought I could evict him without proper legal notice.

Blanche

10 Dec

this christmasPeople think that if you don’t work outside the home, all you do is lie around and eat bonbons and watch stories. First? There’s only like one soap opera left on TV. Second? I prefer Cheetos. There’s so much to do around the house even now that both Girl Child and Boy Child are out of the house. Chuck and I were both sick during Thanksgiving, and I’d just had enough of walking through the living room thinking about how it really needed to be dusted. So I hired an imaginary maid, Blanche.

Blanche came highly recommended from the tap instructor of my imaginary twins Sizzlene and Formicadinette. But it’s been a while since I’ve managed people, and I guess I’m out of practice. So here’s a thing. I said to her yesterday, I said, “Blanche, that Christmas tree isn’t going to decorate itself.” And she, cheeky thing that she is, said to me, “Missus, CTFO and drink your bourbon.” Now, I was totally on board for the latter, but I had to call a teenager to ask what a CTFO was. And I’ll just say this, I’m very hot-natured so I thought that was kind of nice.

We’re going to get that damn tree up today. Or maybe tomorrow. Point is, we’re getting that damn tree up. Just a little while ago while she was admonishing me for not polishing the silver more regularly and with more vigor, I told her I thought it would be nice if we had a fire in the fireplace. Actually, I was back in the bedroom going through the pockets of every jacket I own to find a freaking tube of Burt’s Bees or Lip Smackers or any of the 5,930,372 tubes of lip stuff I KNOW I own but can’t ever find, and she was in the dining room doing whatever it is maids do in dining rooms. So I called to her. I said, using my outside voice, “BLANCHE! FOR GOD’S SAKE GO PULL THAT LIMB THAT FELL SATURDAY OFF THE CARPORT ROOF AND START A FIRE!” Well, then I hear my text alert and was about to ignore it like I normally do, but I was hoping to hear from my friend who was having silicone injected into her earlobes today. She has always had the most leaf-like lobes. Just weird and thin and, well, unattractive. But it was Blanche! blanche

Can you believe that? Part of her contract is that SHE does my pedicures every Wednesday. I can’t believe she forgot that’s tomorrow. Much more of that and she can just go back to cleaning floor wax out of shoe taps.