Even More Spoor at the Door (Still Stalling)

Seems I have been far more prolific, and probably even more annoying, leaving comments on my favorite Bloggers' sites than I thought!  Look what I found -

~  The agony is so very well shared, my Sistah! I found myself standing in line at the Dollar Store to purchase 3 artificial flowers for my daughter's Halloween hippy costume and a Fanta Orange drink for my son. 10 people ahead of me, one befuddled non-English speaking clerk who couldn't make the credit card thingie work, and I began to melt down...The lady in front of us heard me start to lose it. "This is the last stop. I can't do this anymore. Everyone is well beyond violating my personal space. Is that a hot flash? I am really losing it!" By all that is kind and merciful, she let me go ahead of her BECAUSE she was RETURNING items to the DOLLAR STORE. With that, she bought herself on more day breathing on this earth!

~  That kitten has him throughly mesmerized. Notice how he cheerfully provides a secure high perch for that dominant feline. Cheeky kitty! You know when they stare at us they’re just plotting to eat us eventually.

~  You wrote:  "I even think I saw a slimy, green troll abandon his makeshift lair and dive back into the drain hole."      I don't want to unduly alarm you, Jessica, but I think he saw you naked.

~  Re:  Really Drunken Guy in Mini-Mart Video:  Actually looks like he is attempting some kind of extreme yoga moves…When I have overindulged, I just give up at the point where I go to brush something off of my shoulder, and it’s the floor.

~  And then I farted.The ultimate punctuation. I am in awe.

~  I feel so evil and neurotic when I SLAM THE LID DOWN on some irritatingly happy person humming/whistling away a tune of their own making nearby. I try to tell myself that it is cruel to furiously nuke someone's evidentally self-amusing comforting habit and for a time employ supernatural self-control...and then they get louder, or change the tune to something like "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head." Or both. Hide the sharp implements. Maybe it's a tall chick thing...

~  So thrilled to finally earn a spot on a Weirdo Watchlist. So many have paid mere lip service to that in the past. Now it's official!

~  I turned the Monster Mash into a mini-virus amongst my other fellow Weirdos. Thanks to you, I gained some street cred with it. Not so fluffy anymore.

~ You wrote: “The Pope is a cannibal and eats kittens.”   I knew he had something really feline going on. Gives a whole new perspective to what all those backwoods inbred...dumbasses used to call us: Cat-lickers.

~ Remember, lift with your legs! Moving is fraught with ouch potential. And, if anything positive can come from this hellish economic situation, I'd say families, like yours, are knitting themselves together again in a solid front against the onslaught of modern life. Good on you! The Poochie pies just make me giggle...perma-smiles on all, awake or sleeping.

~  I didn’t think this stuff went on any more except amongst the way-out wacky Windsors. These people actually have an ancestor named “Albrecht der Bär.” He was a bear. They passed the privilege of being “der Bär” down through the line. And they admit proudly to being descended from Catherine the Great! I know you know what Catherine the Great was famous for, besides being apparently “great.” No wonder the Princess thinks nothing of wearing rollers in her portrait…Too isolated a gene pool to pull up sane in the 21st century.

~  The "fall back" is a religious plot that Dan Brown has yet to capture in one of his conspiracy books. On "fall back" Sunday, the clergy gets to see who will walk into church an hour early, look befuddled, then having nowhere to go, just sit and doze. The clergy clap their smooth little hands with muted glee, sidle up to we befuddled ones like smiling trap-door spiders,and hit us up for money. Or your first-born.That is why I am a pagan.

~  What woman gives birth to, raises and allows her son to be a dickhead manipulative malignantly narcissistic buttwipe like Munch? Is it nature or nurture? How could any woman in her right mind stand back, serve the beers and sandwiches, and allow her son to be schooled at the knee of her troglodyte "man" to learn how to "keep women in their place" by "lettin' em keep guessin'," or by "keepin' her away from distractions that don't cater to my needs?"
Don't let her feel pretty.
Don't let her feel intelligent.
Don't let her speak unless spoken to.
Don't ever loosen the chokehold.
And how the hell do the Munches out there weasel their way in to perfectly wonderful smart and capable women's lives later on?  Touched a nerve, dear.


~  Warning slutty teenagers to beware of condoms with (little paper) messages stapled RIGHT THROUGH THEM as distributed by Planned Parenthood may have been THE BEST MESSAGE to come out of that event. Totally. Way to trump an entire international organization, Jenny!

~  Our bodies, having absorbed a crapload of salt and preservatives from fast food, specifically those devil fries, will be dug up by erstwhile archaeologists in 2000 years and they will marvel at our outstanding skill at mummification. “Look, the colon in this one looks like it was functioning just yesterday!” Ancient Egyptian mummy makers are spinning in their sarcophagi wishing they’d have had quarter pounders and big macs to pre-enbalm their subjects! It’d been a whole lot less work.

Road Kill Fandango, Galahad and The Mother Truckers

When the flattened remnants of mangled road kill stood up and belly-danced before my watering eyes, I should’ve known something was up. In fact, it was my breakfast. I was going to puke, vomit, hurl, blow chow.  And right now. But, at hour three of a ten hour drive, I was running at 70 miles per hour in the fast lane boxed in by a giant blue truck with “Galahad - How’s my driving?” stenciled on the door and a lovely monolithic “Jersey” wall. The “Happy Halloween” pumpkin donut I had eaten along with a multi-vitamin and other daily morning nostrums I had taken before my solo drive to NC were clawing their way back up my throat like a chain gang of cranky hamsters. With tiny little blowtorches.

Options were limited. I could not swing across 4 lanes thanks to Galahad who had me pinned. There would be no comfortable off-ramp and open door, no baptizing the side of the road with my steaming stomach contents while someone good-naturedly holds my hair and pats my back, no leisurely clean-up and no deep cleansing breaths. The pumpkin donut and the pills staged in the back of my throat setting up to blurt with volcanic velocity from my sealed lips, spraying hot chunks all over my lap and steering wheel at 70 miles per hour. I am the proud mother of necessity and had to think McGyver-quick of something inventive while not ramming my car into the wall. It was go-time and my midsection was flipping with intent, made even more immediate by the fact that Galahad the Truck was watching me…Actually the driver was, not the truck itself, but those guys are so attached to their vehicles they seem blended like centaurs of the highway. Metal and flesh Siamese Twins.

Split second timing critical, I darted my eyes to the back seat to see (Angels sing!) an abandoned McDonald’s bag left by my pig-like kids. Eyes back on the road, holding the steering wheel steady with my weaker left hand, I groped frantically with my right arm and caught the bag, whipped it up to my face and achieved sweet, sweet respite. Twice. Nice and neat. No besmirchment of my travel pod. Can I multi-task or what?

After dabbing my mouth with wet wipes, which I neurotically keep on hand as a card-carrying germ phobic, I gingerly rolled the bag down and placed it on the floorboard of the passenger side intending to make a “deposit” when I could finally find an off-ramp. Flat Shoals, Georgia coming right up. Congratulations Shoal-ians, you get my DNA. Right then, I looked up to see, much to my complete dismay, Galahad’s driver, still pacing me,  asking me in silent road sign language, “Are you ok?” I gave him an embarrassed “Ok” sign. To which he responded with three sharp toots of his air horn.

Sure beats having my hair held.

All the way to I-85, Galahad reintroduced himself in my rear view mirror, his shiny grinning grill and flashing headlights fixed in a perma-smile. He passed me on the left with a light toot, or gently, if gentle can be trucking trait, appeared in front of me inviting me to draft his slipstream to save gas. I knew it was him because he was transporting on his flat bed a huge mysterious lumpy cylindrical object, guy-wired down and cloaked in black visqueen flapping in the wind. It looked like a giant be-condomed penis, of all things. No mistaking Galahad the Guardian Road Angel, his payload called him out!

More than once, I think in cahoots with the CB fraternity of fellow good guy trucker guys, Galahad delivered disciplinary rolling road blocks to the madly erratic amphetamine befuddled or asleep at the wheel “mother truckers” out there who were, for sport, demonically scaring the shit out of chicks in small cars and grandma and grandpa in Winnebagos.

We parted ways as I veered off east toward the purple foothills of the Appalachians, waving a thumb’s up to Galahad. He shot back a prolonged blast from his horn and rumbled off west into a brilliant Fall sunset.

Thanks, dude, wherever you are.

My Uncool Behaviors As Observed By My Spawn

- Humiliating the dog by dressing her up.
- Using the term "epic fail" in a convo.
- Whipping out my clunky outdated Mavica digital camera.
- Singing and/or rocking out in the car.
- Rocking out anywhere.
- Rocking out anywhere utilizing air guitar or drums.
- Writing "I love you, Pumpkin" on their Facebook walls.
- Writing "I love you, Pumpkin" in the condensation on my car windows and dropping them off at school..
- Talking about how funny farts are.
- Especially their farts.
- Or the dog's.
- Actually farting.
- Boogie boarding.
- Wearing a straw cowboy hat to (their) sports events.
- Shouting overly personal things from the sidelines. -- Like "Fly, Tinkerbell, fly!" or "Win and you get chocolate!"
- Melting down in confusion while ordering at the McDonald's drive-through.
- Talking to complete strangers.
- Especially strangers at Wal*mart.
- Especially oddly dressed criminal-looking strangers at Wal*mart at 4 in the morning.
- Actually "getting" Dr. Tran videos & quoting from them.
- Picking them up anywhere, any time of day, in my nightgown.
- Making up pithy metaphors for every little life event.
- Texting. (It's not just for pre-pubescents anymore!).
- Attempting to discuss the merits and/or meaning of a song lyric.
- Publicly identifying tampons as either "high test" or "regular."
- Outing in writing their uncool behaviors.
- Mocking the "eye roll" and the "oh my GOD, Mom" mantra.
- Wishing out loud for menopause in a crowd.
- Providing tasty cocktails to soccer parents at the hotel on long tournament weekends.
- Jumping fully clothed into hotel pools with soccer parents at aforementioned tournaments.
- Executing rad cannonballs in said pool.
- Inquiring if I can sit in his Art History class because I just want to.
- Initiating and winning staring contests.
- "Disappearing" the torn miniscule short-shorts somewhere on the Turnpike near Yeehaw Junction, Florida.
- Repeating my impression of a local car dealer's pitchkid's voice: "Thish ish Preshton and we wanna shee ya in a Kia."
- Repeating stories over and over until they break down and say "I got it Mom!"
- Saying "boss" or "groovy" in context and with conviction.
- Insisting on providing hand sanitizer to everyone within a 10 foot radius.
-Defending and then proving that Diet Coke is the best productive medium, no contest,  for winning a burping competition.

Doesn't end there. Oh no! More to come. Book it!