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1月30日 Unity CandleRon came to school to play basketball at the college where I work. Most kids that come to school bring suitcases full of clothes, their stereo, maybe a television... Ron brought a folded over grocery bag. In it he had a coupla pairs of drawers and socks, a toothbrush, a pair of shorts and a tank top. To say he came from a financially poor family would be an understatement. He has ten siblings, and his mom was on disability. His father passed when Ron was sixteen. Academics had not been important to Ron's family. Surviving had been important. Ron's parents and several of his siblings had not graduated from high school. Ron was the first in his family to attend college. Ron probably would not have made it to college if Coach hadn't chased him down and made him get in the car. Coach assured him that if he didn't like school he would bring him home. And so he came...
Ron's first week at college was not fun for him. He got the flu and was sicker'n a dog. His roommate was loud and raucous so Ron was having a hard time getting any rest. The assistant coach/dorm director was a buddy of mine so he brought Ron to my house for R&R. I'm not known as a "do-gooder" and to be honest I only agreed to this arrangement because I had the hots for the assistant coach. I put Ron in the spare room and checked on him occassionally. Mostly I just let him sleep as he was one sick puppy. I made him drink juice, eat chicken soup and take his medicine and eventually he started feeling better. Ron stayed at my house for a week. We bonded. Despite what some would consider the inappropriateness of the situation (young black man/single white woman) we became very [non-romantically] close. I tutored him in his classes as he was weak academically. I would take him to my parents' house so he could do yard work and make a little money for incidentals. It wasn't long before Coach and the other players were referring to me as Ron's mama. Not long after that, Ron started calling me Mother. His birth mother back home was and always would be his "Mama." After Ron transferred, people told me not to be upset if he didn't keep in touch because he would move on with his life and I would just be that nice lady that helped him at junior college. They were wrong. Ron visited every summer. I made numerous six hour round-trips from my house to Louisiana Tech University to watch him play basketball. Through the years we have remained extremely close. While playing pro ball in Belgium Ron met his [now] wife. Wedding plans were made. Ron's "Mama" had passed away and he told me I would be sitting in for her at the wedding. I was honored but feared I would upset his aunts so I asked him if he was sure and explained my concerns. He wouldn't hear me. I was "Mother" so I would be honored as such at his wedding. It took a long time but his siblings had by this time accepted me and all the festivities were fun and joyous. [If you're not familiar with how things are in rural Louisiana, let's just say there's not much socializing between blacks and whites.]
There's a ceremony in the wedding called "lighting the Unity candle." The groom's mother lights a candle, the bride's mother lights one, and then the bride and groom take those candles and light another symbolizing joining the two families together and beginning their new life. The symbol of unity, for me, tho, was not when Ron and his bride lit their candle. It was when I lit the groom's candle. The love I felt for Ron hit me like a ton of bricks when I lit that little candle. I flashed back to the first time I met Ron. Thought about the things we just took for granted because we loved each other and it became unimportant what other people said or thought (like weird looks at the mall, sideways looks from people when they heard Ron call me Mother). The hours of tutoring, the long hours driving to basketball games, the long-distance phone bills, taking food to the dorm because he was hungry after the cafeteria closed, making sure he had clothes and shoes, being introduced to his friends as "Mother", the excited call I got when he was selected in the NBA draft, his heartbroken call to me at 4:00 a.m. when his Mama died. I thought of all the things that had united us and made us family. I realized THEN what an honor and what a gift Ron had bestowed on me.
Ron is still playing pro ball in Belgium. He probably has a coupla more years before he retires. I have a great daughter-in-law and three beautiful grandbabies. And I have the best son a woman could ask for.
1月29日 Merry MaidsMore payday extravagance! Merry Maids are coming to my house tomorrow morning. AAAAGH!!! I've never had a maid before. I've WANTED to have one for a long time. I don't need one every week, but I would like to have someone occassionally to do all the stuff I really hate doing - dusting, mopping, tub-scrubbing, etc. I've been telling myself "no" for many years because it seems like such a lazy thing to do. You would think an adult woman living alone could clean her own damn house. Unfortunately, I am Pig Pen. I'm the kid from Peanuts that walks around in a cloud of dust. I'm the Bold one. I think there's something magnetic in me and my house that attracts dust, spillage, and most definitely some pet hair. Anyway, I found out that my single male friend has a maid every week with absolutely no guilt about it. Uh. I'm sexist? I'm old-fashioned? Why is it acceptable for a single man to have a maid but not a single woman? WELL.....thank GOD for my niece......she says it's no different to hire a maid as it is to hire people to do a manicure, pedicure, or cut my hair. Hmm. I never thought of it that way. So, Merry Maids on Monday. So what am I doing on Sunday? Why, I'm cleaning the house, of course. You think I want women coming in here thinking I don't keep my house clean? HELL, no. 1月28日 PedicureFriday was payday. I decided to spoil myself today so I went to a nail salon to get a pedicure. This has almost moved from luxury to necessity as it gets harder and harder, as the years go along, to bend over the ol' belly to trim my own toenails! Ugh. Anyway, it is near-orgasmic to sit in the massaging chair with my feet in the warm whirlpool. I could probably sit there for days except that I get tired of looking at the women across from me looking at me. Anyway, the pedicurists usually don't talk. (They're all from Vietnam and their English is very stilted.) Today, tho, I got a talker. Today I wanted to lean my head back on the massaging chair but Ka-Ching wanted to talk. Now, we get a lot of foreign kids that come to play tennis, golf, and soccer so I am all over a Jamaican, Scottish, French, Spanish, English, or New York accent, but I really struggle with the Oriental accent. I understood the offer for a hot wax treatment. I understood the offer for an eyebrow wax. I understood her asking if I had a cat or a dog, especially since she pointed at my black shirt that was covered with blond Lab hair as Timber had jumped up on me to say goodbye before I left home. But then I made a huge mistake - I asked Ka-Ching if SHE had any pets. I wanted to be polite! She was trying so hard to strike up a conversation that it woulda been rude not to jump in with her. Turns out I still don't know if she has a pet or not. She gave a quite lengthy explanation about the subject but she sounded a lot like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons. (Waa waa waa) Not only was her English bad but all the foot whirlpools were really loud. So I smiled sympathetically at her and nodded and she looked at me like I was an idiot. (I've been getting that a lot lately.) Ka-Ching didn't try to talk to me anymore so I'm thinking maybe my response was waaaay inappropriate for the statement. This feeling was enforced by her "accidentally" jabbing the cuticle clippers into the side of my toe. She smiled sympathetically at me and said "So solly." Ouch.
I know how she feels so I feel bad that I couldn't understand her. I used to have to call book publishers in Boston in my previous job and they couldn't understand me. (Goofy people said I had a thick drawl - NO WAY! ha) 1月24日 Senior Citizen DiscountWell, crap a big huge brick. I reached a milestone this past weekend. One that I could have gone SEVERAL more years before experiencing. The lady in the ticket booth at the movies asked if I wanted the Senior discount. Uh! I asked, "How old do you have to be?" Woman, "55." Indignant me, "NOOO. I'm NOT OLD ENOUGH." I looked at my niece and said, "Gya. That hurt." A woman bystander who looked to be around 55 said, "It never gets any easier." The stupid ass ticket seller knew she had offended me, although it was more like shocked me. She says, "I'm sorry. I'm 56 and thought you might be around the same but it's hard to tell." If she thought this was supposed to make me feel better she was w-r-o-n-g. First of all, I would have guessed her age somewhere around 60 so if she thought I looked her age then I must have looked like shit on a hot highway. Secondly, I had made an attempt to look somewhat presentable by putting on makeup, doing my hair, and wearing clothes that matched and didn't have holes in them. My bra was actually on the INSIDE of my shirt as opposed to how my grandmother used to wear hers occassionally. Man! I laughed it off and told myself I wasn't bothered, but I've thought about it fairly often since Saturday. Yes, I have a lot of PREMATURE gray hair, but I'm not very wrinkled. Okay, I don't know if I'm very wrinkled or not as they're kinda "filled in" right now with nature's filler. I know one dern thing - if I get asked again I'm taking the discount! {shiver} 1月22日 Brokeback MountainWARNING: This posting is NOT politically correct!
No, I haven't seen the movie. Probably won't. Old maids aren't really drawn to movies about gay guys. And, well, being a semi-redneck old maid makes me really cynical about a "gay cowboy." This is Texas, people, I KNOW cowboys. REAL cowboys. Men who make their living herding, branding, cutting cattle. I'm not talking rodeo cowboys. That's totally different. Working cowboys are tough guys. The ones I've met are usually loner-types. Their skin is like the leather they wear to protect themselves from cactus, nettle, snakes, and barbed wire. I've seen the previews for Brokeback Mountain, and although the actors are really cute, they're hardly cowboy-looking. Chaps and a hat don't make a cowboy. These guys look more like they're ready for the gay rodeo, which I guess is appropriate in this case or a new version of Village People. Hollywood jus' don't git it. It's not unbelievable that these two shared a love that lasted forever; it's totally unbelievable they were tough cowboys. Want it to be believable? Okay, if I saw John Wayne and Clint Eastwood snuggled up in a sleeping bag...maybe. If I heard John Wayne say, "suck my pee-pee, Pilgrim" and Clint did it....maybe. Yech. I just gave myself the heebie-jeebies, not to mention I'll probably be haunted tonight by the ghost of John Wayne. I've predicted that this movie will win the Academy Award for Best Movie of the Year not because it might be the best, but because of its subject matter. The extremely liberal element in Hollywood will use this to make some sort of social statement that will have to be interpreted for me by Gene Shalit or Ebert & Roeper. There are a disproportionate number of gays in Hollywood as compared to regular non-artsty-fartsy society and they're in the group that votes for the Oscars. Not many here in my neck of the woods are going to the theater to see Brokeback Mountain. There's probably a disproportionate number of homophobics in East Texas as compared to regular society. Ha!! Something tells me there'll be a run on Blockbuster when the movie comes out on dvd. I know people are curious but don't want to be seen in the theater IN PUBLIC. Shoot, the Baptists around here won't even screw standing up because they're scared someone will think they're dancing - they're sure not gonna go see a movie about queers.
Confession: I'll probably buy the soundtrack for Brokeback Mountain. EmmyLou Harris sings the main song on the cd and she's the best! 1月18日 HmmmmmWe have a break room at work where we have the coffeepot, microwave, etc. Just your typical break room. I noticed today while filling the coffeepot that when someone flushes the toilet in the ladies restroom, the water pressure in the break room sink lowers. Should this concern me? It just feels weird to know I'm sharing water with the toilet.
What do they make that glue out of that feels like boogers? If I have one more person put it on the end of their finger and rub it on me I'm gonna scream. I hate boogers.
I may get fired. We have a tennis player from France who can't say "fax." I keep pointing at the fax machine and asking what it is..."fux" Hahahahahha. It's like getting little kids to say "truck."
Why does the dog always want to kiss me after he drinks out of the toilet?
Why do I usually let him?
Why can I sit alone in my office allll day but the one time I decide to pass a tiny bit of painful gas someone comes in?
Why is every tasty food in the world either a carb or a fat? Why can't it be like lettuce and be nothing?
Why, when I answer the phone with "Athletic Department," would someone then ask to be connected to the athletic department? (You'd be surprised how often it happens.)
Hmmmmm.......
1月17日 Losing it....Last night I stood at the kitchen sink gazing into the darkness of the alley that runs beside my house as I washed my hands when, lo and behold, a dog just like mine walked by! I turned to tell Timber (my dog) that, "HEY, there's a blonde lab outside that looks just like you" when I realized it was his reflection in the kitchen window. Crap.....I'm losing it. Ya gotta laugh... 1月16日 MLK - RIPI have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith that I will go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a state of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. And this will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning, "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!" And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring - from the prestigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring - from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring - from curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that. Let freedom ring - from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring - from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring - from every hill and molehill of Mississippi, from every mountainside, let freedom ring! And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestant and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty we are free at last!"
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
I am of an age that still remembers segregation in restaurants, schools, toilets, water fountains, stores. My school integrated when I was in the second grade. The black community and its residents were such a mystery to all of us crackers. My Daddy was the high school principal and a big man, in stature and character. The bus drivers were leary of transporting a bus full of black kids - not sure what they were afraid of - so Daddy said he would drive the "Sweet Union" bus. (That was the name of the black community.) Being a Daddy's girl, I usually rode the bus with him. What fun we had! Buses weren't air conditioned back then (neither were the schools) so it was like a furnace on wheels as we traveled the red dirt roads of Sweet Union dropping off kids in the afternoon. Sweat and red dust would run down our faces as we laughed, sang, and talked about school stuff. On days when we were really, really hot, Daddy would stop the bus at a fresh water spring that was beside the dirt road. There we would line up and all get a taste of the best, coldest water I've ever had. No cups; we just hung our mouths under the flow until the person behind us would start their indignant protest that we were taking too long. After the last kid was dropped off, Daddy and I would head back toward town and our house. Not a week went by that somebody didn't flag down the bus and hand Daddy a sack of fresh produce from their garden, fruit or nuts from their trees, or a homemade pie for our supper. I knew I was the only little white kid on the bus but I was at that innocent age when it didn't matter as long as we were all having fun - and we did. If we got too rowdy it only took one barked order in Daddy's deep voice to settle us all down. I didn't understand when my friend was to spend the night with me that her parents specified that she not ride "the Sweet Union bus" but went straight home with me after school. I think often about the innocence of those days, the joy. I believe that the positive way my parents reacted to integration and to the black kids who came into our school were the foundation for the attitudes I have now. I still suffer from pangs of racial prejudice but I firmly believe that we all do on some level. (Seen CRASH?) I don't feel prejudice when I relate to people one on one, yet in general I sometimes feel uncomfortable. (For instance, if I meet one young black man with his hat on sideways and pants hanging off his butt, looking all gangsta, I don't feel uncomfortable. If I run into a group of kids dressed this way, I'm uncomfortable. For some reason a bunch of white boys don't look nearly as frightening to me. I think a black woman would feel the same if the kids were white instead of black.) People not old enough to remember having to use a different bathroom, or having to use the rear entrance at restaurants, might not realize how far we've come in America toward equality. People who have not been followed and watched in a store while shopping, or stopped by policemen for no reason, or been subjected to subtle yet clear episodes of prejudice might not realize how far we still have to go. There will never be absolute equality anywhere due to intolerance. Even if we achieve racial equality, there will still be inequalities due to wealth, politics, and physical attributes other than race. There's much prejudice toward the elderly, fat, and handicapped. After much rambling, I do wish to honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. for his efforts toward equality through peaceful protest. I hope he is resting in the peace he so deserves.  1月14日 Doin' Nuttin'Ahhhhh. The weekend. Usually the weekend is used for catching up on all the crap I didn't do during the week - like laundry, cleaning, errands. Not this weekend. Nope. I set a lofty goal for myself to accomplish absolutely NOTHING this weekend. No pressure to "get such&such done", no pressure to go visit somebody, no pressure to, say, get dressed! So far, so good. I woke up at 7:30 this morning yet I managed to lie-abed until nearly 10:30. Timber (dog) and I played, stretched, dozed, I scratched his ears and chest - good stuff.
I actually had the urge to read a book so went to Barnes & Noble and picked one out last night. Until 1995 I was a voracious reader but following the events of that year I haven't had the attention span of an ADD flea. During that year my Daddy died after a long illness, and I shared in caregiver duties with my siblings. I lost the desire to read and I don't know why. I haven't figured out what one would have to do with the other. I also became a channel surfer during that time. This would make more sense if I were one of those dynamo people that has to be doing something all the time but- wow- am I not one of those. I can sit and stare at the surfing channels for hours. I guess I'm an anomoly. A couch potato with a short attention span. Weird. Anyway, I started reading the book last night and almost immediately went to sleep. Awesome. I'll try again today because the book seems pretty good so far. Maybe I stopped reading books because I couldn't stay awake. We'll see.
Did y'all know that two hundred some-odd counties of the two hundred some-odd counties in Texas are in a burning ban? Unbelievable. I've never seen county officials ban grilling before but they have for this weekend. East Texas is supposed to get a little rain this weekend but we need about a foot of rain to catch up with the normal measure. I'm praying for a rainy Monday. Cool, rainy days are the BEST for napping & reading.
I've been in a ROTTEN mood for the past two weeks. Several of the male coaches have made suggestions of what I need in order to improve my mood. It's astonishing that every one of them who offered a suggestion said I needed a good piece of ass. What dorks. Do they not know that when a woman is in the kind of bad mood I'm in, because of something a man said/did, that the last thing she wants is to shack with a man? No, they don't know and they don't care because, in their world, a good piece of ass is the solution to almost everything. For most it doesn't even have to be a "good" piece of ass - just a piece of ass. Because, again in a man's world, any piece of ass is a good one. Wouldn't it be great to have such a simple life?
Well, this typing is starting to feel like work and is direct violation of my weekend rule. I hope everyone who reads this has a relaxing and nonproductive weekend. Enjoy!!
1月11日 ChocolateI don't know if y'all have noticed this but....chocolate talks. I know because....it's talkin' to ME.
I resolved to eat healthier and I've really been trying to do that. The weekend before the target date for said eating healthier, I swept the house for junk food. I bet you're thinking I threw out a bunch of food. Well, no. When I make a sweep of my house for junk food that means I eat all the crap so it won't be around the following week when I plan to eat healthier. It's a wonder my heart didn't immediately stop or at a minimum that my gall bladder didn't revolt. What I couldn't cram down my own throat became a doggie treat for Timber. So I woke up last Sunday feeling a little billious but confident that all temptation was outta the house.
And then I heard it. I was walking from the kitchen to the living room with a cup of sugar-free Jello and some Cool Whip when I heard, "Psst-psst!" I stopped because I live alone and to my knowledge a dog's lips can't do the psst-psst thing. Nothing. I start walking again. "PSST-PSST!!" Then my eyes were drawn to a dad-gum candy dish that I hadn't even noticed for months. But there they were. Two little Hershey's Kisses in all their shiny foil glory! Mmmmm. CRAP. I know myself well enough to not touch the candy. To even put my fingers on it will mean instant weakness, plus I would probably absorb some calories through the foil as I am a calorie-magnet. So I take the candy bowl and dump it in the trash. Safe at last.
Later, sitting at my computer, I hear a rustling in the last bag of Christmas presents that I haven't wrapped and delivered (give me a break, the people live outta town so I unofficially have until July to get their gifts to them), and a faint "psst-psst." "UH!" I think to myself; "I threw the damn chocolate away." So I go back to the computer. "PSST-PSST tee hee hee!" So I slowly look behind me and peeking out of the Target bag is a thing of chocolate racecars that I forgot to give to the boss's kids.
While cooking supper I hear laughter from the freezer. WHAT? Oh yeah, there hiding behind the sack of healthy chicken boobs is an ice cream sandwich. He laughs, "You forgot about me last weekend, didn't ya? I was hiding here amongst the veggies and lean meat." Okay, you bastard ice cream sandwich - ya know what you are now? DOGGIE TREAT.
If Hershey finds out about this and starts marketing mute chocolate, I'm up a creek!! 1月9日 SportsI work in an athletic department at a junior college. Over the years I've noticed how different team personalities are at this level, and only for the sports we offer:
FOOTBALL: The proverbial "bulls in china closets". They're brash - rough and tumble guys. Big, burly guys for the most part except for the finesse positions like wide receiver, quarterback....
MEN'S BASKETBALL: Prima donnaish as a team. For the most part they're taller than everyone so really stand out amongst the general campus masses. Plus, they play inside without helmets so are more easily recognized.
WOMEN'S BASKETBALL: Victims of stereotype but don't really do anything to disspell the impression because they're proud of their athleticism. There are more girls who openly choose alternate lifestyles amongst this group. Tend to fuss amongst themselves like they're at an eternal slumber party. (Anyone with girls knows what I'm talking about - guys are going, huh?)
BASEBALL: Keep to themselves because baseball fields are usually located off-campus. Tend to make better grades than football & baseball.
MEN'S AND WOMEN'S GOLF: Usually come from upper middle class or higher families as they're the only ones who can afford to play golf very often. Don't hang out much with other athletes.
MEN'S AND WOMEN'S TENNIS: The most studious of all the sports so make the highest grades. There are usually more foreign players in this sport so that effects their relationship to the other athletes in that they "stay amongst their own kind" so to speak.
VOLLEYBALL: The sweethearts of women's athletics because they seem to be more feminine. They have good butts and legs and usually have a large following of male fans as a result.
MEN'S SOCCER: Probably the best conditioned physically. They're in Texas, tho, and they understand they take a backseat to football but they don't like it. Foreign players don't understand this at all! These guys are friendly and seem very appreciative of fans/followers. Popular with girls because they are overall polite.
There are always a few exceptions amongst the jocks but year in and year out the similarities are there. Many people are intimidated by some of the jocks. People forget, because some of the jocks are so physically developed, that at a junior college they're still dealing with 17-20 year olds.
It always fascinates me how children and the mentally handicapped are attracted to athletes. There's something poignant about seeing a physical specimen interacting with a small child or mentally challenged individual.
On the day our previous football coach was hired, we held a press conference. A mentally challenged guy who hangs out in our gym a lot, was there. The coach made a point of talking to Glenn and inviting him to practices and games. Glenn was beaming! After Glenn left, I told the coach, with tears in my eyes, how wonderful he was for being so nice to Glenn. I told him how he had surprised me because that coach was definitely a "bull in the china closet" kinda guy. The coach turned to me and said, "Haven't you ever noticed? Every successful football team I've ever seen has a retarded guy hanging around." So much for the warm glow..... 1月8日 Cowboy fan{sigh}
If you're not a Dallas Cowboy fan you cannot understand my pain this weekend. You cannot understand that my weekend plans hinged on kickoff time. That my alarm was set so I wouldn't miss Fox NFL Sunday to hear everything that was said about the Cowboys and that day's game. (Terry's an idiot but there's sompn about him...) That I timed meals so they would be ready so we could eat while watching the game. Or so that kitchen duties ended prior to kickoff. This weekend I feel like a long-term caregiver whose patient died. I'm lost. I'm lonely. I'm distraught. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't want to watch the other playoff games (although I probably will) as it's just a reminder that da Boyz didn't make it - again.
So far I've kinda floundered around, attended a college basketball game, listlessly surfed the channels. Right now they're showing a paid program on herbal colonic cleansing. Has this kind of crap (scuse the pun) been on my tv all season? See what football saves me from watching? [Good GRIEF! A woman just called in to say that her bowel movements are regular now and she feels much better since purposely giving herself diarrhea to clean out her guts. Sheesh. Did y'all know we have an average of 22 lbs of undigested fecal matter in our bodies each day? Hmmph. I thought it was just a figure of speech when I tell co-workers they're full o' shit. NO, NO!! They're telling me John Wayne would have lived much longer if he had cleaned out his colon. What the hell am I watching???? How can these people talk about this on tv and keep a straight face?]
This week the Cowboys announced a new two-year contract for Parcells. Now I'm depressed because I see two more years of "nearly" making the playoffs, old quarterbacks, has-been wide receivers, man-titties (coach in a t-shirt), and unproven running backs. This season was too good to get good draft choices, too bad to have much to build on for next season.
I can't WAIT 'til next season! 1月3日 ResolutionsMy resolutions, even tho I swear every year that I'm not gonna do resolutions, were the same as they've been for about 25 years:
Well, by noon yesterday I had already blown every one of the f*cking things! I did GREAT on New Year's Day as I was too lazy to get dressed and go get something to eat, stores were closed so didn't shop, was home alone so my niceness wasn't challenged. My only downfall was watching my Cowboys because they did, indeed, make me cuss. (Where's the HEART, fellas?) Once I returned to work I was exposed to all of the things that make me a mean and hateful person - snacks & Cokes, assholes that keep me from being nice AND make me cuss, and I had to go to Wal-Mart after work for dog food and ended up with a buggy full of stuff I didn't even know I needed until I saw it at the store. Sheesh.
The way I figure it, I've set myself up for failure for at least 25 years. Next year I think I'll resolve things that are more do-able. Like my friend, who resolved not to start using crack. I've never used crack so I could probably continue not to do so. I mean, it's not nearly as addictive as chocolate so it shouldn't be a problem. There are lots of things I can NOT do. I can NOT become a stripper, NOT shoplift, NOT get into politics. I'm already feeling better about myself!
I'll tell ya what's aggravating. My skinny-ass little boss who probably weighs a buck-oh-five wringing wet comes in this morning and immediately goes for a run and some cardio, then gets a healthy wrap from Subway for lunch, and is absolutely INSPIRED by "The Biggest Loser" that he watched last night. F************ck ME!! One of these days I'm gonna tackle his little ass and force-feed him some lard. Grrrr! 1月1日 New Year's Eve & The WeddingHappy New Year, Y'all!!
We had a wedding in our family this new year. My nephew made an honest woman out of his baby's mama. My sister-in-law and niece worked their butts off and created an absolutely beautiful ceremony. As you might can imagine, there have been many tears and prayers surrounding this particular drama (beginning with the knowledge that the then 17 year old nephew was dating someone who had been married before and was a few years his senior). I won't delve into the particulars of this situation, but will say that I hope this marriage will be like most others in the fact that it will bring new maturity and new hope for a bright future for this ready-made family. The baby is absolutely a blessing and is very much loved by everyone.
Butty Wayne Johnson had a GREAT time at the wedding. In the afternoon he played whiffle-ball (snocky-ball) with the men-folk. Turns out Butty Wayne is a great ball-fetcher. At the wedding, Butty had a blast knocking down little kids. I saw him knock one kid down and then run right over the kid's entire body, foot to head, with tail wagging. The kid was obnoxious so I kinda got a kick out of that. We had a little problem with Butty because he didn't like us burning candles in the front yard so he kept putting them out. We are in a burning ban due to drought, so maybe Butty is smarter than us. The candles were an integral part of the wedding decorations, tho. After he walked the bride down the aisle, much to her chagrin, Butty stood by my brother and helped perform the nuptials. I just don't think the wedding would have been nearly as festive without Butty Wayne Johnson.
When my brother asked who was giving the bride in marriage, my 5-year old great-nephew yelled "I do." I don't know if the bride's dad ever said anything or not. It was pretty funny.
Here are some funny redneck things from the wedding because, if you can't laugh at yourself, you'll get shot for laughing at other people:
I make all this sound like we're a bunch of idiots. In actuality, it was two families coming together in support of a young couple who has a long row to hoe. It was a young man who is going to college and working full-time who wants to do what's best for his baby son. It was taking what we have and what we can afford and doing our absolute best with it. But most of all it was family, and it was love...
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