Archive for the ‘drivers’ Category

Beads?????

November 21, 2008

So, I am sitting at a red light this morning when I glance over to the truck on my left. The driver gives me the “look.”

You know the look of which I speak; the look that says, “Let me take you for a ride.”  The look that undresses you and makes you feel slightly vulnerable.

Well thanks to extremely long red light, time seemed to freeze. Then his rear-view mirror caught my attention. Draped across the mirror were several (I would guess 50 or so) strands of Mardi Gras beads.

Which left me wondering….

a.) Do those beads belong to this guy’s wife/girlfriend? If so, why is he making lewd gestures in my direction? My mind never shuts off and is often flying on various tangents… Now I want to know what his home life is like:

  • Is he getting any at home?
  • Is he one of those fools who creeps even though his wife is wonderful?
  • Is his wife living on life support and unable to … ?

b.) Does this dude flash his boobies to collect the beads?

c.) Does this dude carry strands of beads in case some woman decides to flash her boobies for him?

or more than likely…

d.) The dude was just making weird faces because he had eaten something bad and also had something in his eye… He probably didn’t even notice I was looking at him.

… and then the light turned green and I was off chasing another tangent….

Sensitivity Training

November 10, 2008

Alrighty, I admit it. I need it… Or something to help me learn to be more tolerant, more patient, less apt to call a putz a putz.

I came to this brilliant realization the other day when a coworker peeked his head in my office and said he needed to go home because he was not feeling well. I was a breath away form asking, “What’s the matter, your pussy hurting you again?”

Not all my fault. You see I have been hanging out with the guys and they say that every time one of them complains about an ache or a pain. It is their way of calling the other guy soft for whining.

Still, I have absolutely no business using such delightful terms of endearment with my coworkers.

I decided I needed a refresher course and church would be a good place for me. So, I slipped on a dress and headed out the door. Just five minutes into my 20 minute drive I almost turned my car around and came home. Five minutes… and I was cursing like a sailor at the inatentive drivers who had taken over every lane of the road.  

I was sure that the Pastor would be able to feel the evil cloud that was permeating from my soul.

I slipped into an empty pew, hoping to remain invisible and unapproachable. Why do fellow church goers feel the need to reach out and try to make you feel welcome? I did not really want to be noticed. I simply wanted to hear the message and slip back out…

(note to self: come in during the opening hymn and slip out during the closing prayer)

OK, it was not that bad… and the message was very moving, he talked about the commitments we must make as couples to stay together in these trying times. I really think Mr. J needed to be there as well cuz the guy was telling the husbands to compliment their wives on the little things, like dinner. (and Mr J needs a refresher course on that one)

In fact he needs a course on eating whatever I cook and telling me it is delightful. (waiting until I turn my head and then spitting the crap into a napkin or a house plant.)  I will see if the Pastor will bring it up again next week and take Mr. J with me.

All-in-all it was good for me.

I didn’t curse at one person on the drive home!

What Ifs…

June 12, 2008

Randomness at it’s Best

 

First I am apologizing for not keeping up on the various blogs lately. Hell froze over…and I have been snowed under. That does not even make sense, but I am flying on tangents and am going to shoot this crap from my head while it is almost coherent.

 

Last night I put on some fancy cold crème and climbed into bed. This is a first time experience for me and from the WTF look that Mr. J shot my direction it might take some getting used to. I decided that I do not want my face to look like this:

 

(This picture was ganked from buffalodreaming.com/sacredlands.html )

So he is going to need to close his eyes and pucker up and kiss me dammit. He won’t admit saying anything bad, but I distinctly heard the words “Granny” and “My Mother” being muttered from his side of the bed.

 

What if he woke up in the morning and it was his granny in bed beside him? J

 

Thinking back to the time I drove from Twin Falls, Idaho to Hebo, Oregon with my then 10 month old son. Just the baby and I cruising down I-84… About 650 miles, not stopping unless I needed gas or to potty. When David would get too fidgety I would hand him red licorice to munch on. Not the brightest thing to do, but I was only 21 and enjoyed learning from my mistakes.

 

(This picture was ganked from http://kassieandjose.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default )

 

Somewhere around La Grande, Oregon he became increasingly whiney… So I stopped, unbuckled him from his car seat and let him snuggle on my lap while I drove. We made it about 40 more miles when he puked about a pound of licorice all over the both of us.

 

I miss those drives across the country… I made one before with David when he was 5 months old… From Twin Falls, Idaho to Worland, Wyoming – 500 miles, stopping again for gas and to feed and change him. I never worried about crazies on the highway… Weird now that I think back on it. I had so very few fears.

 

It is not that I was never faced with crazies on the highway…

Just 3 months pregnant with him, I was driving about 150 miles to my grandparents and had some sick pervert pull up beside me and honked his horn. I looked over and he was stroking himself. This guy scared me. It did not matter if I sped up or slowed down, he was right beside me on the interstate, honking and signaling for me to pull over. I was rescued by a truck driver, who was caught behind us. The trucker flashed his headlights at me and then slowly pulled to the shoulder. I too pulled to the shoulder and the truck driver rolled up to my bumper and got out to check on me. After explaining what was happening, he agreed to follow me all the way to my Grandparents’ exit to make sure the guy did not harass me any longer.   

 

So much could have gone wrong, Makes ya wonder about the ‘what ifs…’

 

Another ‘what if’ that I was thinking about this morning…

 

I almost killed my ex husband.  We had only been married a couple years and David was just a few months old. The Dummy was working in Oregon (that is why I made the interstate drives by myself). He called me one night and said he was not coming home that particular weekend. I tucked David into bed and fell asleep myself.

 

About 2:00 in the morning I was awakened by my bedroom window being opened. I was in a trance of sorts when I slipped to a kneeling position by my bed, picked up the 22 rifle, and aimed it at the intruder. The son of a bitch was my husband. He wanted to know if I had someone in bed with me while he was gone. I hesitated for just a second before pulling the trigger…

 

It makes me wonder what if I had not hesitated.

 

… And one more.

 

I have a fabulous friend, Retired LtCol Sharon Jacko who is back in Afghanistan, this time as a civilian. She and a wonderful group are there helping women get set up in businesses of their own, to become self-sufficient. I opened up a recent email and one of the pictures enclosed made my heart skip a beat.

 

The young boy looks just like my brother Todd when he was young. Todd passed away at the age of 17. The picture is such a shocking resemblance that I started to cry.  This September will mark twenty years since Todd was around to make me laugh.

 

What if he were still alive today?        *Sigh*

 

(LtCol Jacko’s picture of Afghani boy)

A Couple Things to Ponder

April 8, 2008

1.) Pedicures and Shark Bites (nice combination!)

            A young lady was bit in the foot by a six-foot shark just a few yards off the Galveston sea wall.  She was rushed to the hospital where she received excellent care. The media went crazy… Let me explain Houston Media. For any “news worthy” event, the Houston news teams follow a certain protocol:       

a.) Reporters question the victim’s family. (Including a 4th cousin twice removed.)

 

b.) Reporters question the witnesses –

            Reporter: “Billy Bob, can you tell us what happened?”

            Billy Bob: “Well, ya see, that thur girl got her foot bitten darn near off.”

            Reporter: “Billy Bob, were you there when they pulled the victim from the water?”

           Billy Bob: “Aw Heck no. I was down at the bait shop having a beer when we heard all the  commotion. I sure as heck don’t think nobody otta’ stick their dang gummed ole foot in no fishes mouth. ‘Specially not one of them big’uns with teeth.”

           Reporter: “Um, thank you Billy Bob. Back to you Ted.” 

 

c.) Reporters question friends of the victim-

           Reporter: “Sally Ann, what can you tell us about your friend who was savagely attacked by a shark last night?”    

          Sally Ann: “Well you see, it was so scary and stuff. And you know… we are all praying for her.”

          Reporter: “Our thoughts and prayers are with the victim and her family as well.”

          Sally Ann: “And ya know the sad part is my friend and I had just come from the salon. We just spent all that money on pedicures and now hers is all ruined.”

 

d.) The reporters will then proceed to interview her 3rd grade teacher, the kid who sat by her on the bus on the way to band camp, and the woman (we have all seen her) wearing a house coat with her hair up in rollers, who live two houses down from the victim.

 

            This brings me to my question. If I were the victim. Having been severely bitten, ruining half of my fresh pedicure… Do I moan about the money I wasted… Or, do I think, “Millions of people have seen my foot on television. Thank goodness I took the time to have my toe nails painted this morning!” 

Something to ponder

 

2.) How far will fear push you?

 

            A Houston resident was spotted by H.P.D. (the LAW) picking up a prostitute. The officers attempted to pull the man and his “Evening Entertainment” over. The man apparently panicked and proceeded to drive away.
           
                 The woman of “Experience”, wanting nothing to do with a high-speed chase, tried to exit the vehicle. Holding on to the door, she was drug for several blocks, before she fell under the wheels of the car. (Don’t despair, she is ok, but will have to rely on Workers Comp for a while…) Sorry, that was just mean.

           This brings me to my next question. Is there a point when your brain kicks in, screaming “Stop Fool”… or does the fear of facing your wife, after being caught with another woman, push you to commit a felony or two?         

 

… And They Drive

March 13, 2008

We all have them, the tales of woe… being run off the road by an inattentive driver or stuck behind the woman who is putting on her make-up.

Of course, we are all great drivers. It is the OTHER guy who is a hazardous piece of shit driver.

I was just telling Sarah that I don’t often vent my anger with other drivers. Living in the city of Houston, it is dangerous as road rage seems to be the norm.

Two years ago, some crazed fool shot out the back window of Mr J’s truck. Two lanes merged into one and the offending driver decided if he had to give up a place in line, then Mr J would have to dodge a bullet.

People here are capital C.R.A.Z.Y.

And all it take is a sneeze in the wrong direction and you too might be dancing with the  psychotics behind the wheel.

I just got back from picking up a salad (yeah… I am eating healthy food today. It makes up for the Wheat Thins and Chocolate Chips that I had for dinner last night)

Anyhoooooo… I pull up behind another driver at a stop sign. He is just sitting there. I glance down the street in both direction and cannot see why he is waiting. I am left in a quagmire of sorts:

1.) Do I sit here for another 5-10 minutes and wait for him to pull his head out of his orifice of choice?

2.) Do I pull around him, hoping he will not decide to suddenly pull out, running into me?

or… 3.) Do I tap lightly on the horn and gently encourage him to Move the HELL out of the way?

In a normal situation #3 would be the obvious choice. But, picking number three has left me searching for the police while a deranged individual tried to run me off the road.

Oh what the Hell? I am brave today… feeling kind of cocky, I go ahead with option number three. We only live once, right?

I tapped the horn a couple light ‘toots’. The guy looks in his rear-view mirror and flips me off. (OK, I was expecting that)

He then rolls down his window and yells something at me. Being the curious type, I rolled down my window to hear him better.

I was not prepared for what he was saying… “Bitch, (I think he means me)  it’s red!”

Alrighty… Here is the good part. We were not at a traffic LIGHT. We were at a STOP SIGN.

He must have realized his error just as he said it, because he sped off.

I just sat there and laughed. The dude was waiting for the sign to turn green!

I feel so much better about my spacey moments. 😀 

The Spider Cometh

January 29, 2008

Yeah, I know… Cheesy title. I can only be so creative before eight in the morning. Unless I have been up for a couple days straight, because nothing gets my creative juices flowing quite as well as sleep deprivation.

I was over reading at Licensed to Blog and was reminded of a couple several spider incidents.

First I would like to clear the air. I am not afraid of spiders or snakes. I am not overly fond of either, but I will not scream or jump or fly into hysterics. OK, maybe I will. But that is only if I am caught in a sneak attack and I am cornered.  

I do have ridiculous reactions to certain bugs. An almost gag reflex to the sight of cock-roaches. In retrospect, I have a gag reflex to all insects if I feel one crunch or pop under my foot or in a piece of tissue. In order to keep from feeling them squish, I will wad up approximately 1/2 a roll of toilet paper and drop it on the offending insect and then I proceed to squish the entire mound, never actually feeling the ‘pop’.

My hubby, on the other hand has a method for ridding our house of the giant water roachs that sneak in.

He plays hockey with the little buggers. As you might be able to tell from the disgusting picture, they are not little. I think the average length is 1.5 – 2 inches. And yes, those are wings! When cornered they do a little kamikaze flight, often crashing into their screaming target.  I was told they are merely looking for a dark place and get confused.

Back to my hubby and his roach-hockey: he will grab the broom and sweep the critter towards the back door. He then yells, “Hurry and open the door!”

I am left wincing (and praying) that his aim is good and the roach-puck does not gather up the fortitude to open his wings and redirect his flight path in my direction.

Way off topic: My husband once decided he would clean up a dead mouse playing broom hockey. Once again he asked me to play goalie. This time he wanted me to hold the dust pan while he flung a squished rodent from about ten feet away. “Come on. I think I can hit the dust pan from here!”

repeat after me… Hell No!

I compromised, letting him play his game, opened the back door and let him shoot for the backyard. He missed and hit the door frame. (That could have been my face!)

Moving back to the spider issue: My husband is AFRAID of spiders. He does not play critter hockey with spiders. There is too much risk involved. I do every thing possible to keep from laughing out loud when he spots a spider. He is not a screamer. He is a mad smasher.

Brooms have been sacrificed in crazed attacks. I am sure the spider was smashed on the first swing, but he will continue swinging in a psychotic state until he is mentally assured that there is no way on the planet that the spider will be able to attack him.

It really is entertaining to watch! I am so awful. One day after a savage spider slaughter I exclaimed, “You know that all of his family are going to come looking for you when you go to bed tonight.”

Now my husband is a sane individual and is aware that spiders only gather armies and attack humans in the movies. Yet, for a fraction of a second I could read the concern on his face. bwahahahahaha…

His fear of spiders is not without merit. About six years ago he was bit by a brown recluse spider and hospitalized for a week. The doctor had to remove a large chunk of flesh from his arm.

And I am not completely free from apprehension. Stumbling upon a black widow spider can elevate my blood pressure.

For the most part I overlook spiders, or grab the dust-buster and suck them up.

I only remember one spider freak-out experience on my part. I was driving in Houston on the Beltway. (a large tollway that wraps around the city) There were many factors against me.

1.) It was raining and people in Houston drive in a homicidal manner in the rain

2.) It was dark and I am one of the worst nighttime drivers on the planet. Just ask my son about the time I turned onto the wrong ramp and entered a highway going the wrong direction. He still claims that riding with me at nighttime is more dangerous than driving in a jeep in Baghdad.

3.) I was tired – yes, I am using that as an excuse.

My hubby had awakened me about midnight and needed me to come pick him up. Something was wrong with his company truck. He knew about my nighttime driving disability and apologized profusely.

No problem… But, I was not getting dressed. OK, I was not naked… gueeeeeze!

I had on a pair of frumpy flannel jammies. I slipped on my fuzzy slippers, grabbed my cell phone and my purse and stumbled out in the dark.

I am happy to say that traffic was fairly light on the beltway at that hour. Which is very good because my eyes have a terrible time readjusting to oncoming traffic. It was going fairly smooth. I was concentrating hard on the road while the torrential rain blurred the lines. It was not fun, but I was making progress….

Until I felt a hair on my arm. I cannot stand to feel a loose hair on my arm. I have to remove it immediately. Slowly I peeled my right hand from the steering wheel and reached over for the hair that tickled my arm. (no, I never looked down to see the hair as I needed to keep my eyes on the road)

The son-of-a-biscuit moved and I nearly peed my pants. I knew at that very moment that it must be a critter of some sort. I took a quick peek and spotted a big black spider! 

Sneak attack! At the same time my hubby is calling me on the cell phone for a progress report. There is no way in Hell I am going to attempt to answer the phone while I am in the middle of a crisis.

I eased my left arm over to the button for the window and slowly roll it down. (keep in mind that it is raining buckets and I am getting drenched.) I had to act quickly because the spider decided it was time to move up my arm and he (must be male…don’t ask) was heading towards my face!

Once again I peeled my right hand from the steering wheel hoping to brush the spider out the window. In one quick motion, I flicked the spider.

Alas, he was a survivalist and refused to be cast out so easily. The little creeper was clinging to the edge of the window. So I did the only rational thing. I sacrificed my can of Altoids.

Yes, I threw a can of mints out the window while trying to hit a spider. I think it worked because I could no longer find him.  

I then happened to notice that I had travelled over three lanes into the fast traffic and had to ease back to the right. Thankfully, there did not seem to be anyone else close by. (maybe I had scared them all into pulling off the highway.)

When I arrived at my destination, my husband was very upset. He went on and on about his fear that I had been in a wreck because I didn’t answer my cell phone. He got a big laugh when I told him what had happened, only because I give him so much grief over his fear of the buggers. 

Psychosis behind the Wheel?

June 20, 2007

All Psychotic Bitches should stay off the road. I am serious. Ladies if you lose function of your senses during moments of weakness or hormonal dishevel, please call in a designated driver.

She has a license

Another case… This is an old story. But, remains fresh in my mind.

Not once, but twice

Could one of these women be you?

I could be one of these women if pushed

I am asking ya’ll nicely. If you feel the Psychotic Bitch inside you gaining the upper hand, call a friend, pop a happy pill, shit… GO TAKE A NAP… I don’t care. Just stay off the Mutha-Fk’n road.

This includes the bitty who tried repeatedly to run me off the road Sunday. Her actions persuaded me to sign up for a class this weekend to renew my concealed weapons permit.

Crazy is cool. Psychotic Bitch is not.