Archive for the ‘friends’ Category

The Police Report

November 22, 2008

First let me clarify… I am in no way involved in the report.

We were at a bar-b-que enjoying the fine Texas atmosphere of cold beer, half drunk women draped across boisterous manly men, who raved about their heroes on the football field. Ya know, Basic Texas stuff.

We were joined by a couple of Houston’s finest, Boys in Blue. (the Law)

It wasn’t long before they too had cups of …ummm… soda (yeah I am sure they wouldn’t be drinking on the job)

One of the officers began telling of a report that he had to file some time back. It was a terrible accident scene. The rider of the motorcycle had been thrown off his bike and an arm severed.

The officer said, “I found his arm laying in the esplanade, but I didn’t know how to spell esplanade, so I picked the arm up and tossed it in the ditch.”

I almost did an un-lady-like thing and spit my drink all over the place. It was so funny hearing him explain. (not funny that some poor soul was had his arm severed and was killed.) But funny that the officer was so…

I don’t even know how to describe him… It sounded like a screwball twisted line from Scary Movie.

The funny part was knowing it was a real event. Life is funnier than any writer could ever imagine in a script. (well, it is for me in my Twilight Zone existence)

Advertisements

In The Beginning…

June 11, 2008

… There was light.

 

Oh wait, I am talking about my beginning. Sometime around the first part of February in 1963 my parents made passionate love… (I really do not know the details as they chose to never disclose them with me) So, they may have had a session of grudge sex, or I might have been the result of a ‘quickie.’

 

It really does not matter all that much at this point, but don’t we all want to be the result of some wickedly hot sex? Anyhow, nine months later… Waaalaaaah, I am here.

 

That is not where I was going with this post, but thought it would be rude to leave out the real beginning.

 

Fast forward a few decades…

 

This is my Official 100th post and thought it appropriate to share with ya’ll how this particular blog came about.

 

The Beginning…

 

About a year ago, the wonderful, funny, strong, intelligent, sexy, gifted, and fantastic mother and friend, Ms LL at Chromed Curses (did I leave anything out?) asked me how I was doing. So I sent her an email and pulled no punches. She told me that the email should really go in a blog…

 

… And so it began… How-to-start-a-blog

 

Today, I wanted to thank LL, SK, and all my new blogging buddies for helping me laugh at the crazies.

 

Hugs to each and every one of you. Ya’ll ROCK

 

 

 

 

No Holding Back

June 5, 2008

My dear friend  Mario the plumber came by the office yesterday afternoon. Mario is a breath of fresh air in my smoggy city, the sun peeking thru on a stormy day, a flower rising up thru the crack in the sidewalk… (I could do this all day)

 

We talked for a couple hours about life and death. We shared our wisdom on the insane land prices where he lives, as his neighborhood just might be the only place in the country where prices continue to escalate. We laughed about the photography studio, around the corner, that everyone knows is really a front for a whore house. And we talked about his cancer, the surgery, his prognosis, and further testing.

 

He offered to show me his scar that runs from his belly button to his kibbles and bits. I politely declined. I mean, if you have seen one you have seen them all. (Scars, I mean scars)

 

He also talked in great detail about having his catheter removed. He left me cringing in pain and I don’t even have a tube crammed up my stuff. He shared the anxieties he felt about having a “drippy faucet” the rest of his life. Thankfully he will not need to borrow his wife’s maxi pads as the dripping stopped after a few minutes. (It was so sweet of him to pass this on to me.)

 

I adore Mario. Although 20 some years my senior, we can talk about anything and everything, with no worries of offense or embarrassment.  

 

I love sharing everything with Mr. J, but it is kind of nice to have a Mario in my life as well. Like a small child, Mario says what is on his mind, never holding back. Sometimes I wince at the vulgarities of his openness. But I would not change one thing about my Mario.

 

Who else would have the nerve to shout to me from across the parking lot as he pulled out, “Tell that husband of yours to flush a box of tampons down the drain, so that I will have a legitimate reason to stop in and have coffee with ya’ll.”

New Finds

June 3, 2008

I am adding a few new Bloggers to my side bar and wanted to give them a proper shout out:

 

Advice from Mister Manly – A place where all men should go for advice to abstain from becoming Girlie Girls… and where we women can go for entertainment at the men’s expense.

 

The Fabulous Liquid from over at Liquid Illuzion – This woman has been selected for my Super Heroine Team. Start out by jumping right into the fire with the post linked. 😉 (Don’t be skert… It will only hurt until she allows the pain to stop)

 

And Patrick at Procrastination Post – As a tried and true Procrastinator Extraordinaire I have put off adding Patrick… so fitting, don’t you think? 😉

 

I am reading a couple more, but I am selfishly keeping them to myself for now.   

For Mario

February 10, 2008

My dear friend Mario was recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Mario is also my plumber, the same plumber who saved me from total embarrassment with the boss: The woeful tampon tale 

Mario is just…. Well, hell… He means a great deal to everyone he touches. His surgery went well and he sounds good. We are as optimistic as possible.

But last night I broke down and cried. Mario is much like a dad to me. He drops by on a regular basis just to grab a cup of coffee and chat. His oldest son is a Navy SEAL and he enjoys telling me of his adventures. His youngest son just sang at the White House with his high school choir.

Mario loves to joke about fixing the plumbing at a whore house around the corner. Listening to him tell of the desire to douse himself in bleach afterwards and walk thru a car wash…

Simply hysterical the way he can spin it.

Damn it. I wanted to call him when I took my bathroom apart. He is so good at walking me thru my projects.  

 

(Yes, I even pulled the toilet… three layers of nasty flooring… and rotten wood)

I am sure that I can do it, but I want to hear his voice… More so, to know he is ok.

Out of complete frustration, I started beating on my drain pipes. Yes, I used a hammer. (A plumbers tool of choice… not!)

(I beat the daylights out of it…)

And today I am going to use a jig-saw… Mario, I need you to get better. My bathroom needs you to get better.

Shit! I don’t care about my bathroom…

Just keep fighting. We love you.

Voodoo Princess

February 2, 2008

This post was inspired by Joan’s post over at Whatever I Think and by my ‘fun to mess with’ neighbors.

I am anti-social with my neighbors. I don’t give them more than a “good morning” or a “how ya doing?” as I am bolting to my car or to my house. I much prefer to just wave and keep moving. They think I am weird or in a perpetual bad mood and I prefer to keep it that way.

This came about because of the actions of our country neighbors. Linda and Mark, I am using their actual names because I am not going to protect them because they are not INNOCENT!

Linda and Mark introduced themselves the first day that we moved in. We were very busy carrying in boxes and furniture from the moving truck. I thought it was sweet that these STRANGERS jumped in and gave us a hand. Now, I know they were just checking out our junk.

Linda kept opening boxes and volunteering to help me put things away. The frickin truck was not even unloaded and I did not have a clue where I was putting anything at that point.

Mark was a handy neighbor to have close by. He helped erect the wooden play ground and helped us putting up the fence. Again, we never asked for help. He was like a stray kid in the neighborhood that I had to send home at dinner time. (he was in his early 30’s and no kid)

On our days off we often jolted awake by a knock at the front door. Mark and Linda would be standing there with their coffee cups and ask if we mind if they have coffee with us. They did this on a regular basis.

I explained to my hubby (a city slicker to the max) that country folks are just overly friendly like that. It got to the point that we were hiding in our own home to keep from spending every free minute with them.

Now don’t get me wrong, they were as sweet as you could ask for in neighbors… but, good gosh! We needed our own time to unwind and be a family after a full week of work.  

That only lasted a couple years until we moved back to the city.

We agreed that when we moved we would not make friends with our neighbors. We were traumatized!

Now of course the fabulous Mr. J (my hubby) has made friends with Mike and George. I have not and will not. They drive me batty. One is a nickel and dime drug dealer the other is a petty thief. (yeah, I am in a great neighborhood)

I refuse to have anything to do with them because I grow weary of pretending that I think they are OK in my book. I am sure that before long the disgust will shine thru in my eyes.

I am not perfect by any means and should not judge how they chose to make a living… But, I do judge them and want nothing to do with any of the people who drop by their homes.

Mike lives right next door. What you see when you meet Mike is a big soft goofy (think giant dopey teddy-bear) type. He is a very friendly person and can bar-b-que like nobodies business.

My beef with Mike is the constant traffic of unsavory people dropping by to buy pills and nickel bags of weed. They are often leaning on my car or peeing by my fence. They drive my dogs batty.

Well, here is how I became known for my Voodoo:

One afternoon Mike was outside washing his truck in the driveway. He had a couple buddies over and they were all drinking beer and laughing. Every once in a while Mike would spray my dogs with the water hose.

I was watching this all thru the kitchen window while I was washing dishes.

Growing annoyed (that happens easily with me anymore) I opened the back door and asked him to stop.

He was embarrassed that I had caught him and quickly said, “Uh, Yes Miss Cindy. I’m sorry. We were just messing around.”

(hehehe… I love living in the South and being called Miss Cindy)

Well, about 20 minutes later the dogs began to bark again. I stepped over to the kitchen window and watched Mike once again spraying them with the hose.

 

(Chance, my brave protector)

My hubby grew up in Texas and had ‘schooled’ me on various superstitions. He also told me that Mike was scared of me. (I will explain that one on a later post)

So, I armed myself with a pair of scissors and a lighter and walked into the back yard.

I glared at Mike whom I had busted with the hose aimed in my direction. He started apologizing out his ass at this point. But, I never said a word.

I walked over to Chance, my male chow, and clipped off a good size tuft of hair from his mane. I then walked over to Mike’s driveway where he was standing with his buddies. I placed the hair in the palm of my hand and lit it on fire. I then blew the burning hair in his direction. When it landed on the pavement. I walked over to the hair, that was smoking at this point. I circled it once. Stopped and glared at Mike again, spit on the hair, and turned and walked back in my house.

I didn’t dare turn around to look because I was trying so hard not to laugh.

Mike’s two buddies got in their car and sped off. Mike ran in his house.

About five minutes later my hubby called and asked what had just happened. He said that Mike called him at work and was freaked out. 

I just told him that Mike was spraying the dogs and I asked him to quit.

The next morning there was a large bag of dog food sitting by my back gate.

No, I have never practiced voodoo. I have no idea what I was doing… I just wanted to mess with him and it worked!  

Making Choices

February 1, 2008

(Thanks SK… that is SOOOOOOOO me!)

When  I was born God gave me two choices….
 
(1) I could  either have a  
memory…
                      OR

(2)  Be    in bed !!!

 

 Shit  !!!
Now I forgot what I waz gunna tell ya!!!