They Sent the FIRE DEPARTMENT?!?!?!?!

A couple days ago the boys spilled a few gallons of gas in the garage and since then the fumes have been UNBEARABLE. I am talking throat burnin -- like I am fo shiz down a few thousand brain cells. And let's face it -- I don't have that many to spare. Ya know what I am sayin? Well, when I woke up Friday morning, I had taken all I could take. I was tired and smelly and frankly, high.

Soooo -- I called the NON EMERGENCY FIRE DEPARTMENT number and said, "Please do not call Child Protective Services, but my spawn dumped gasoline out in my garage and after 2 days the fumes are so intense I cannot sleep -- do you know how I can clean it up? Or do you have any suggestions of what I could buy to help?"

Then, this is what happened.... "HOLD PLEASE" {insert Motown music}

"Ma'am? I have dispatched a crew and they are in route."

"EXSQUEEZE ME?!?!?!? I do not need a truck dispatched -- I only need advice. Call it off. Send them back. Tell them it was a wrong number. Tell them I was talking about GAS -- from my husband -- after some unfortunately bean burritos. CALL THEM OFF."

Then I heard the sirens.They had dispatched not one -- but TWO fire trucks...and a man in a little truck following them.
I ran to their truck in my heels and a darling muted black suit -- Hello? I know what you are thinking -- but I have to tell you the truth -- I have mentally ill twin sister-- Helga -- who lives here and she called you. And she is in time out. And I am sooo sorry. Would you like some cookies and milk? And IJ -- Oh IJ was MORTIFIED! He looked at me and said -- YOU CALLED THE FIRE DEPARTMENT?!?!?

Uhm, well that is disputable. Let me explain. It was Helga -- my evil twin. She is uncontrollable!!!!

So IJ and I stood out in the fume infested garage and waved good bye to the best firemen in the world.

And as they pulled out...chucking all the way ... they shouted out the window -- BYE HELGA!!!

That Ain't Apple Juice

I am now a frequent visitor to the airport parking garage. They know me. I know them. We are pals, amigos, friends, family, comrades, peeps, homeys.....you get the pic. Anyhoo, I have bonded. Raphael is the crossing guard that blows his whistle. Clarence is the security guard that always says... "Places to go today huh Honey?" And Shauna is the TAS person whose line I try to get into. Most try to avoid her line - but not me. I gotta make her smile. And it ain't happened yet -- but I am tellin ya I WILL CRACK HER!

Anyhoo, I think I have seen about everything -- fender benders, late flights, late people, international travelers, cowboys, homeless, soldiers, -- you name it, I have experienced it.

But this week when I pulled into my parking spot and got out -- I saw something I have never seen before -- and someone from a more cultured background might not have fully understood the complete picture of what I saw BUT being the Country Girl that I am, it took me no time at all to use my deductive reasoning skills as to what had occurred in my parking spot only hours before my arrival. And all I am sayin is....that ain't apple juice.

Amen.

I Yam What I Yam.

Sooooo, we have a little park in your neighborhood. It is nice and quaint and they really do a great job of keeping it up. This past weekend the Local Tennis Playoffs were at your subdivision's courts. And we went down to cheer our neighbors on. It was hot and everyone was sipping there martinis and calling for the cabana boy and wearing their jewels with their designer tennis skirts. I was in Old Navy and flip flops. And I drank a beer. And it was so good I burped. Anyhoo, it was not long that the Twerps were crying to cool off in the creek. And of course I took them down there to wet their feet. The sound of the little water fall was relaxing and peaceful and...and.... Ought-Oh....
That beer was kicking in and I HAD TO PEE - just a little at first...so I started to tell the spawn I had brought forth into this universe to come on out of the creek and pack a bag cause we had to go home cause I had to pee pee.
They said, "What you talkin bout Willis?" And then, I HAD TO PEE. And there was no holding it. And the creek sound was KILLIN ME. And I couldn't make it.....Oh Oh Oh...The pee pee dance had ensued.
So, I did what any country club, tennis playing, jewel wearing, martini drinkin, classy woman would do. I pulled down my pants and peed in the woods.

In the words of Popeye, "I Yam What I Yam."

I am gonna fit in fine around here. Right? Right? Hello? Anyone?

Amen.

Combat Boots vs Nine West

I arrived to my hotel in Boston around supper time last night. My colleagues and I had a great time roaming the city and chatting. Superb group of people. And I have been eating up the view from my room.

Spectacular.

Anyhoo, one of the funniest thangs happened to me in the airport on the way here.

And I totally wanted to take photos, but you know how they are in those airport security checks points and all. And let me tell you - ALL eyes were on me. And I would not have been able to blog from jail - Hey, I wonder if I could have requested one blog post in exchange for my phone call? I'm just sayin.

Anyhoo, I arrive at the airport with my Brighton bag and Nine West Heels and headed my way to the security check point.

There were three military people in front of me. Two gentleman are in their camo uniforms (BDUs) and the other is in civilian cloths (jeans and tshirt). And then there is me. In Ann Taylor and Girgiou.

Anyhoo -- the two uniformed military boys get to the the lee-tell security man who checks your ticket and ID and he asks them to stand off to the side. Then the civilian dressed military man goes through and the same, they have him stand off to the side.

Then, it is my turn. In which I haphazardly pull out my picture ID cause I am doing real real real important stuff -- like Twittering - on my blackberry. You understand, right?

Then he looks at me and says, "Thank you ma'am, please wait over here."

And I obediently join the trio of military men.

Then I hear this.....

"Clll, Schrr, Eeeee. My I have your attention please. Ladies and Gentleman we have four military personnel traveling back home with us today. Please join me in thanking them and allowing them access to the front of the line."

Insert clapping. Including me.

Insert me looking around.

Insert me realizing I AM ONE OF THE FOUR.

Insert me noticing I had my DEPENDENT military ID out.

"Uhm, excuse me. Excuse me. Sir? Sir?"

Insert us being guided to the front of the line amidst cheers and hoops and hollers and handshakes.

"Uhm...sir? Sir? I am not active duty military. I have never set foot on foreign soil. I have never shot a gun. I am a lover, not a fighter."

He looks at me with a big smile and says, "Huh?"

I kid you not. These people clapped and shook our hands the entire time it took for us to scan our bags. And I cried, cause it was the sweetest thang ev-er. And my mascara ran. And I wondered if I should salute or drop and give them 20. I opted for crying.

Once through the security check-point the military boys were collecting their things and reassembling. I looked over at them and said,

"I don't know where the confusion came from. I think because I showed my DEPENDENT military ID, but I just wanted to let you guys know - I AM NOT IN THE MILITARY."

They shared glances with one another and then grinned.

The oldest one looked over at me and said,

"We know ma'am. We know."

And they turned and left.

WHAT? Well, I coulda been in the military. It would not have been that absurd, right? Ann Taylor goes with combat boots too, right?

Red Wine and Dreams

I am me. I know pretty deep -- but I ain't no fancy schmancy gal who knows the province wines come from or to smell a cork of wine once it is opened or to let it breathe. I do not understand the swirling approach or the fact that they make large glass things to let your wine breathe in which I THOUGHT WAS A CANDLE HOLDER - but I don't think we need the details here. Anyhoo. I am a simple girl. And I own this shirt.And this is how me and my friends roll.But I have become friends with wine snobs. that look at color and sniff and smell and groan and know temperatures and flavors and smokey and light and crisp and all those other things. I only have one word when it comes to wine -- Hiccup.

But I have let the peer pressure get to me so now I am sampling different wines and trying to learn. It all tastes like chicken to me -- kinda. I was sorta kidding. A little. Anyhoo -- things I learned last night: Merlot makes me dream -- vividly -- like nobody's business. Amen.

When I went to bed last night I was all by myself spread out like an eagle and loving every minute of it. And that's about how long it lasted, a minute. Then I heard the pitter patter of little footsteps... and a few minutes later another set came running down the hall. And I spent the night sandwiched between these two sweat hogs.But occasional they would roll over and wake me from my dreams -- and this one I remembered.

I walked into an old-fashioned Barber Shop in a Mayberry type town wearing a top hat. In the shop there were three gentlemen cutting hair:

Floyd the Barber from the Andy Griffith Show:

Colonel Sanders from Kentucky Fried Chicken:

And the midget with Steve-O And they were all wearing these exact outfits. I kid you not.
Anyhoo -- when I walked in they were all cutting hair and I was in a black sequin vest and bow tie, but took off my top hat cause I was respectful and all like that. I then pitched the idea that we start a barber shop quartet. In which Colonel Sanders LOVED and said he had been thinking the same thing. So I suggested we start off with "Hello Ma Baby." Ya know, the frog on Bugs Bunny use to sing it....

So I pulled out my harmonica and gave us a starting note and - well, I ain't one to brag and all, but WE WERE GOOD!

So we looked at each other and laughed and hugged and then the midget who stars in that one movie with Steve-O said, "How about this...."

And he started "Swing Low....sweet chariot comin for to carry me hooooooome."

And let me tell you..he could go loooooow.

So we then sang, "Daddy sings bass, Momma sings tenor me and little brother would join right in there."

We were hot -- So I suggested, "How about Boom I got your boyfriend, I got you man?"

And it got all quiet and someone walked in and made the bell on the door chime. And I picked up a bottle of RED WINE and poured a glass for all of us,

That's all I remember.

But I think it is VERY clear the meaning here.....What are your thoughts?

An Honest Mistake - Hypothetically Speaking

Okay -- I'm gonna make this short and sweet, cause I do not want to belabor the point. AND cause I know this could happen to anyone. As a matter of fact it has probably happen to a few people who read this blog. Actually, I bet it has happened to more people than not. I betcha it has occurred to everyone of you - at some time or another. Yep, it is just an honest mistake. You all have done it. I am sure of it. Probably. Hypothetically Speaking.

Anyhoo, let me enter Exhibit A: The WOmen's Locker Room.

Notice the door. Notice the tile around the door. Notice the vertical white letters beside the door. Notice the little white sign beside the door.And here comes Exhibit B: The Men's Locker Room.

What? Oh no. This is a different picture. It is. Really. Yes, the same door. Yes, the same tile, Yes, the same vertical white letters. Yes, the same little white sign.

I swear they are different pics. I swear they are different doors.

And I can positively without a doubt tell you from first hand experience - the things behind these two doors are very very different.

And I can also tell you that if HYPOTHETICALLY you just got out of the pool with three chil'ens and you HYPOTHETICALLY were to open the door that said Men instead of WOmen (seriously -- they are just trying to confuse you) You will see things that will make you cover your children's eyes and say, "Why Lordy Be. I am so so sorry bout that."

And then you'll giggle. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

911 - We Have a Problem

The economic times have hit us all hard. And today while I was reading online articles in the office diligently working in my office, I came across an article in regards to the rise of suicide in light of these challenging times. It was talking about how workers were being laid off and they could not bear to go home and tell their families, so they were taking their own lives. It was appalling.

On a separate note, in the office space above me is Bank of American (Hellllooooo Bank of America). This week, almost a quarter of the employees were laid off. And I watched them carry their boxes to the car -- and I saw their grief and the weight they carried. And it was heavy.

And today (like an hour ago) as I sat in my office (diligently working) I kept hearing a BANG outside my window. And I looked to see these ropes....AND I KNEW. The Bank of America employees.....Nooooooooooo! I banged on the window -- I tired to yell -- but no one could hear.

So without hesitation, I picked up my phone dialed 911. Oh look at him -- he might still have a chance.

"YOUR WIFE WILL UNDERSTAND! You can move in with me! We have extra rooms! Can you hear me? Hello? Don't end it this way!"

Uhm, exsqueeze me? You don't look like a Bank of America suicidal former employee to me.

Oh no.....I felt relief ....followed by deep panic.

And I picked up the phone, "Uhm 911 -- I'd like to cancel my order." Gulp.

Mortification Memoirs

Sooooo, I went to Eldest Twerp's first. school. dance Friday night and we honestly had a boot scootin boogie time of it. I can say that now that I am sportin a mullet like Billy Ray and all.

Anyhoo, while we were there I kinda was takin back to my middle school years and forgot I was actually thirty-blah-blah-blah-ish. They had this knock off of Dr Pepper, aka lover of my soul, named -- I kid you not -- Dr. Radical. And in some poor white trailer trash kinda way, I liked it. A lot. A whole lot. Enough to chug three. In two minutes. With a bong. I kid. I kid. About the last part only. Kinda.

Anyhoo, while I was on my third Dr. Radical, lovin life, swayin my hips to Come On Ride That Train, and stuffin pepperoni pizza in between swigs....when a kind and beautiful lady walked up to me and touched my arm.

Her sweet eyes captivated me and made me feel a little immature, so I swallowed my stuffed cheeks of pizza as quickly as I could and finished off the remainder of the Dr. Radical so I could speak to her.

She looked at me and said, "You are such a beautiful lady. It is obvious how much you encompass life. You just have a glow about you."

Well LORDY BE! I have never. I think she might just be my new BFF.

I opened my mouth to say something equally as flattering and classy, and then. I felt it.

Deep within the bowels of my body, I felt the gas of Dr. Radical come rising to the upper chamber.

And as soon as I opened my mouth to say THANK YOU, the burp that could have accompanied the alphabet came rolling out of my esophagus. Along with a pepperoni pizza linger.

I think the glow disappeared from my face. And she saw me in a whole new light.

Poor ET. Amen.

It's On Like Donkey Kong

Yes, we are moving Sunday at 9 am. As in we are suppose to BE at our new house at 9 am, and it is an hour away. It is 7: 30 am right now. I am blogging. The boys (all three) are asleep and ET is in the bath after a night of vomiting and other things she does not want me to tell you about.

Oh, so we must have gotten all our packing done yesterday and now I am carefree and able to sit here and blog, right? Uhm, I have two boxes packed. Why? Why? What have I been doing?

Important stuff. Life altering important stuff. Cause my little eleven-year-old Twerp started talkin a little smack yesterday at the Aquarium. She thought she was stronger than her MOMMA. Silly Silly Girl.The challenge was on. Come put your money where your mouth is sista.

What one might not realize is the importance if a little chitter chatter during these times...like "How ya feelin?" "Feelin a little nervous?" "Did ya eat your Wheaties this morning?" "Isn't your right arm your weaker arm?" Ya know, just mother/daughter encouragement. That is the kinda parent I am and all -- an encourager.
But I made darn tootin sure she knew the rules cause I did not want a whinny baby when she was defeated... Uhg, whiners. Sore losers - what could be worse?

So it was on like Donkey Kong. I let her have a little bit of a start cause I did not want to crush her self esteem and all. Cause that is the kind of parent I am and all -- I build her up and all.Then it had been awhile and I kinda had to pee so I was just gonna finish her off. Leave the gun, take the cannolis.

And the Red Knights goin down - down, down, down. I show not mercy. Just look at my sheer strength. What a silly naive girl to think that as an eleven-year-old, she could possibly take down such a power house as me. That's right -- Jump back Jack.

Uhm, wait....Uh....I think I am breakin a sweat here.Can we call a time out? I WANT A TIME OUT. TIME TIME TIME.
There was a FOUL! A FOUL! I challenge it. I need an instant replay.

Did you see some suspicious activity somewhere? Anywhere? Anyone?

I have been packin ALL DAY. All those heavy boxes. My little body was just all worn out. That's my story and I'm stickin to it.