Jury Duty Part 1, maybe the only part

Okay, I'm officially scared, I just saw convicts. Honest to God, orange striped jumpsuit in handcuffs, convicts. And there's a lot of them, I'm not getting out of here anytime soon. I knew I should have worn my Rush Limbaugh T-shirt.

The convicts were out in the hallway and so are the bathrooms, so I've stopped drinking my water and there will be no coffee for me even if it's free. They give you free tokens and validate your parking.

I parked way to far away, 2 blocks. If it's raining when I leave, I'm screwed. I just drove into a parking garage hoping it was close to the court house. 2 blocks away, I'm an idiot. The 8:30 arrival time is loosely observed. I don't think we are going to start until 9:00. The 8:30 time is for us country bumpkins that can't negotiate the big city. I really, really hope I can find my car if I ever get to leave. The husband called when I first got here, he knows all too well that I could have easily ended up in Pennsylvania. He had to check to see if I made it into the Jury Assembly Room. Being directionally retarded, I've cost him a few gray hairs. But I put full trust in the GPS lady, except for the time she wanted me to drive off a bridge, she has never failed me. I also had my map quest map and we all know that those are never wrong, I was in good hands.

I must look like a geek in this Jury Assembly Room, they probably think I'm taking notes on the video they are showing us. What a group of happy people I'm sitting with. I want to go home.

It's only a matter of time before I start making up names and attaching stories to them. I've already picked out "I'm above all this" lady. She's so much better than the rest of us. I have to pee. The bailiff is now fielding phone calls from the people that haven't shown up. Apparently you can come in the next day if you have a good enough excuse and can fax in a doctors excuse.

Wait, somethings happening.

The first group was called and I'm not in it, either is "I'm above all this" lady. Groups are starting to form and people are starting to talk, I've chosen to observe and keep to myself. This ends part 1 of my Jury Duty experience.

Stay tuned.

Hey HannahJ, I'm going to say retard in another post

I had a half inch by half inch piece of paper burning a hole in my pocket all morning. This little microscopic piece of paper said I could receive a free medium french fry. How awesome is that? I received this golden ticket on my McDonald's large Mocha with whole milk this morning when I stopped at the drive-thru for my Friday Egg McMuffin. I sat at my desk going through my emails, eating my Egg McMuffin, not interrupted by the phone and that's a sign of a good day, drinking my mocha wondering how can it get any better than this. That's when I found 2 little stickers on my paper cup with a lid. "What do we have here?"

I'm not oblivious to the world around me, but I have to admit I'm clueless in the McDonald's Monopoly Game world. I've just chosen not to participate in the past. But when I peeled off that winning french fry ticket I decided to throw myself into the game. I have a game board now.

I watched the clock all day waiting to cash in my winnings and get more pieces to my new obsession. Lunch time came, I had to go to the bank first. There are obstacles in life, we all have them. They teach us patience, compassion, all sorts of lessons on our journey through life. It's what make us stronger, obstacles in life are thrown into our paths to test us, teach us, ground us in reality, help us grow into a descent human being if we chose to learn from them. My obstacle on my way to my free french fries was a moron who couldn't work the ATM machine.

How retarded to you have to be to leave your card in the ATM when on the screen it says. "Do you wish to make another transaction?" Your options are yes or no. Not, drive away from the machine without your card or receipt. I got up to the ATM and could have withdrawn my weekend craft show money from her account. But instead I thought real hard and then pushed the button that said NO. I'm so damn smart sometimes. I put Einstein's card on the ledge and use my own card to withdraw my money. I followed the instructions and Eureka, my card spit back out at me. I grabbed the other card and made an unscheduled stop in the bank. As soon as I opened the door three tellers and one morons heads snapped around. "Do you have my card?"

"Yes." Idiot.

I handed it over and walked out. I said nothing for fear I wouldn't pass my "life's little obstacle test". Plus I had free french fries waiting for me.

What side is my heart suppose to be on?

My heart can't take another Monday like the one I had this past week, Friday can't get here fast enough.

First I'd like to blame the government, they presented me with a jury duty summons. On my way to work after picking up my precious liquid that is mocha, I thought of my jury duty and then thought, "No!, Is it this week? Oh my God, am I suppose to be convicting felons today? Am I a felon now?" And then my heart slowly descended out of my throat as I realized that it's next week. Can I just ask one thing? Instead of drawing from a pool of registered voters, why not draw from the pool of unemployed, living off the backs of the working people, people? Why take me away from my job when there are people unemployed at home watching Oprah?

The next group of people to blame for my almost heart attack would be men. Just going to generalize on this one. I'm lumping you all in with the guy that shook me down deep into my very soul. The guy that thought it was funny to call me at work and pretend to be the police asking for me and inquiring about my car that was involved in an accident. He had no way of knowing my kids had just lost a friend in a car accident this past weekend, but how is that funny anyway? I sat at work thinking of this kids family, looking at the clock and realizing the funeral is starting in 5 minutes, a mom and dad and a brother were going to be saying goodbye to that 19 year old boy and I get a call from the comedian. I lost it at work and retreated to the ladies room for 10 minutes, letting the damn phone ring, hoping someone was answering it. Is lumping you all in with this guy fair, probably not, sorry.

And number 3 heart stopping group, the police. Ha. Maybe just their cars with those damn sirens. When you are innocently driving back to your "going nowhere" job, they pull out of a parking lot and put their sirens on, that makes your heart sink. Fortunately it wasn't me he was after.

So Monday my heart ending up in my throat, my stomach and broke into a thousand pieces. That can't be good. I'm not even sure it's worked it's way back to the right place in my chest. I pretty much gave up on keeping my brain intact but now I have to worry if my heart is secure in there.

I think she's full of remorse

Just look at that face. Is that the face of a killer? I think not. Buckeye just hasn't been the same since The Incident. I had her outside with me for the afternoon while I did, effing yard work. I really hate raking leaves, they're not done falling and I'll be out there again, it's an endless chore, done year after year. But the rest of the neighbors were doing it so I thought I'd better put forth the effort. Trust me, I didn't over do it, but my back still hurts. I need a nap and vodka.


I thought it would be a good idea to put on Buckeye's peace and love bandanna while we were out. It's kind of her hippy one, with peace signs and hearts. Just in case any other squirrels were out there watching her. They have to know one of their own is gone but I'm certain they don't suspect her. It all happened so fast and most of the violence was behind the bushes, in the front yard. All the squirrels hang out in our back yard. I wanted her to look harmless, I'm looking out for her reputation. I don't want her to have a bad rep in the neighborhood. And I have to say she played her part well. Sniffed around, dug a few holes and lounged around like the queen of the neighborhood. I think we can safely say the "Incident" is behind us.

I don't think she meant to kill it

Almost everyday my stomach starts to grumble around noon. That's when I start to watch the clock, my lunch is at 1:00. I planned it that way, when I get back at 2:00 the rest of the day goes by fast. It's a good plan. Most days I go home because fast food everyday doesn't appeal to me and I let the dog out. Today I also wanted to check on a sick Boy #2 and bring him some Ginger Ale because he puked all night. Please God don't let me catch the stomach flu, please, please, please.
Now that it's cold out again my flip flops have been exchanged for my cool boots. I had my CFM boots on today. Please don't ask, figure out what each letter stands for, I try to maintain a PG-13 blog.
So not being use to high heels I just need the dog to go out, pee and come right back in.
I'm so sorry Relax Max for mentioning pee in yet another post.
She should pee right away because it's raining and she's a sissy, hates the rain and will only go out in it if she really has to go bad.
"Keep an eye on her." I tell Boy #2. "Let me know if she goes, I have to get lunch."
30 seconds later, "Mom, it looks like she has something."
"What do you mean has something?"
"She's behind the bushes and I heard a weird noise."
Now I have to go out in the rain, this will screw up my hair.
"Oh my God, oh my God, she has a squirrel. What do I do? Oh my God."
Do you get the gist of me panicking?
First I see the unmistakable big squirrel tail, then the dog comes out of the bushes with the entire squirrel. And I'm out there with my high heels trying to grab the dog without getting touched by the flailing squirrel. The squirrel was panicking too, for good reason, it was in the jaws of my killer dog that's afraid of rain.
"Buckeye, let go, let go, oh my God. Come here, come, Buckeye!" The panicking continued. There was a lot of swearing. Where the hell is Boy #2? Where is he?
The dog released the squirrel and I grab her collar, dragged her in the house and Boy #2 was sitting on the steps. "Check her for any scratches."
I looked outside and the squirrel lay there twitching. More swearing. "Damn, look at it."
"She killed it.....almost."
"This is a crisis now."
"You should have seen how funny you looked on the steps trying to get her."
"I hope you throw up again."

I called the husband to fill him in on the crisis, he didn't seem to grasp the trauma I just went through.
"You know, you're going to have to come home from work and take this squirrel to the vet and they're going to have to fly in tiny instruments from El Paso and it will be a costly and difficult procedure. Once he's discharged you'll have to make sure he gets his medicine six times a day and keep his tail elevated."

You have to be a member of the Seinfeld cult to get that last line. I tried to find a YouTube clip but couldn't. Here's the script.

It's not hard to figure out they're up to something

Either everyone on my parents street is having an underground bunker dug in their yards or they are having the decrepit water pipes replaced or they are having underground bunkers dug and using the water pipes as cover. This of course was going through my head as I waited to be waved by, by the driver of the giant earth moving truck.
"Ah, I can go now? Can he even see me? Great, I'll just weave through these orange barrels, through the mud and over this bump and pull into what is now being called my parents driveway."
Did I mention my parents are in their 70's? No? Let me go tell this guy.
"Hello."
"Hi."
"Can you tell me at any given moment while you are working here or have these vehicles parked for the night that an emergency vehicle will not be hindered in any possible way, at all, never ever?"
"Oh, yes ma'am." He ma'amed me, the son of bitch. "We take that into consideration, have had it happen before too, not a problem."
"Thank you. I have to go now before my dad sees me, don't tell him about my inquiry or he'll be mad at me, thank you."
"Yes ma'am." Again?

Two birds, one stone. Mom and dad can be whisked away to the emergency room in a timely, efficient manner. And they are totally building underground bunkers. I want one. Or I need to secure a place in mom and dads before Erv does.

Do underground bunkers come supplied with canned goods, guns and ammo or is that something you have to take care of yourself? I need to do some underground bunker research this weekend. I need to be ready for impending doom.

Mom walked me out to my car after my visit because I told dad that mom and I had a bit of girl talk to take care of, which we did, I don't lie to my parents, they've known me too long. After we talked we surveyed the mess on their street. "What will you do on Halloween night? You'll loose half the little trick-or-treaters in the holes, won't find them until morning." She laughed. Then I told her about the conversation I had with the underground bunker digger.
"You know I was worried about an ambulance being able to get through here."
"Well you don't have to worry anymore, I took care of it. Those guys are scared of me now."

Start digging Erv, I've secured my spot.

There are things out there, things

Me and my vivid imagination had absolutely no where to be Sunday morning, so we decided to sleep late. The husband, me and the dog slept the morning away, drifting in and out of sleep. We would mumble about coffee, try to get the dog to start the coffee machine. Apparently this was to difficult for her and she lay at the foot of the bed like a slug. Opposable thumbs came up - again and quite frankly, I'm getting tired of that excuse. The coffee is all made, you just have to push the on button, she could do it if she wanted to.

I listened to the birds chirp, would fall back to sleep. I'd be rattled awake by the thump on the roof.

"The hell?" And then I would hear a thwap, thwap, thwap of something with a giant wing span flying away. It happened 3 or 4 times. I just can't win, I either have ducks and geese or creatures from a scientific experiment gone wrong, like in The Mist, landing on my roof to terrorize my neighborhood. Now seriously, I'm leaning towards the ducks and geese because it's morning and everyone knows horrific, scientific creatures come out at night. But what if the creatures got an early start? Shouldn't I shower? I'd hate to be chased out of my neighborhood in my nightgown and bedhead. I'm too tired to run screaming through the streets. I drifted off again.

Half an hour later, I glanced at the dog, she hadn't moved a muscle. It must have been the husband that woke me because he was gone. I hope he starts the coffee. I hope he wasn't dragged out the window by scary, horrific, scientific creatures. There appeared to be no signs of struggle, I'm sure he's fine. My vivid imagination and I went back to sleep.

GloBalls

Nothing snaps you back into the land of the living faster than spotting a box of GloBalls. Holy Crap. Six individually wrapped coconut and marshmallow covered chocolate cakes with creamy filling. GloBalls.

With a team of doctors working 'round the clock to fix my hormones, I try to go about my weekend without passing out. Wheeling my shopping cart up and down each aisle at the WalMarts, I know I'll get home forgetting more than I remembered. Like for instance bread, yes I forgot bread. It's a simple item, one that you pick up without even thinking each week. But if it's in the same aisle as a box of GloBalls and your brain cells are under the influence of pain medication.................... bread? What is bread? For $2.50 I can own a box of these delicious green coconut GloBalls. I'm so going to the hostess cakes website because now I have to have a Justice League green ring. Who is that green super hero? On the back of the box there is Superman, Batman, a red guy and a green guy. I think the red guy is The Flash. When did this Justice League form, I have no memory of them, then again I can't remember bread............

I just have to pee

On the road again for the second time this week, the husband and I took off for a 2 hour drive. Now I have a 24 ounce mocha, you know I'm not going to make it 2 hours without having to stop. About an hour in I had to pee like a race horse, but we're have and in depth conversation about cell phones and landlines, the pro's and cons, so I don't say anything. I know he'll have to go soon, his bladder has weakened over the years.

"We're going to have to stop pretty soon."

See.

"I could go." Doh!

We stopped at an upper echelon rest stop, one of those that has everything you could possibly need. A one stop shop. I'm somewhat of an expert at finding restrooms and I see them immediately. The husband is still searching, his eyes darting back and forth, up and down. Either he hasn't spotted the restrooms or he's in awe of the place. "Babe, over there, in the back, see them?" His eyes drifted away from the spinning Slurpee machines. "Oh there they are."

Women to the left and men to the right, also conveniently located in the middle, are 2 "family" doors. Where the hell were those when I was traveling with children? The husband went to the right and I turned left, right into a temporarily closed sign. I peeked around the corner and saw a man cleaning the women's restroom. I could pee in the family restroom if only the door wasn't locked. I side stepped dangerously over the the men's side. Thought about taking a peek around that corner but decided against it. I'll never understand how a bunch of guys could just line up along a wall of stalls, whip it out and pee without batting an eye. Total strangers whizzing away next to each other. Erv once peed next to Cleveland Indian, Grady Sizemore, not many people can say that, Erv can.

Alright one family restroom is the same as the other, doesn't matter if it's near the men's or women's side right? So I turned the knob, hah it's open, it's just too bad there's a man peeing in it.

"What the........? Eff! Are you kidding me. Damn it!" I actually put my hand up to my eyes.

I side stepped back over to my girl side. Please, please come out whoever is in there. Please before this guy comes out of the boy side family restroom. I sent the person behind the locked door very strong mental distress messages............ open, open, open the door and she came out. I quickly ducked into the sanctuary that is the family restroom, with my back against the door, I took a deep breath and then another. Then, get this, I LOCKED the door, because seriously, besides the guy next to me, who in the name of Zeus's butt hole, doesn't lock a public restroom door?

Who peed in grandma's toilet?

"Did you hear that?"

"Like a beeping?"

"Yeah."

"Probably Boy #3 and his video games."

And girlfriend #2 and I continued to watch the season premier of Survivor Nicaragua. Survivor is one of my favorite shows, don't judge me. I seemed to have hooked girlfriend #2 and she's happy to go along the Survivor ride with me.

"I hear it again."

"Yeah, where's the husbands phone? He always leaves it in the living room."

He has a new phone with a stupid ring-tone, it just kind of beeps.

"I'm going to have to pause the season premier. Damn."

I found the phone in our bedroom and I had no idea how to use it, can't check to see if there's a missed call. Damn. The husband and Boy #2 are in the middle of home improvement downstairs, if I go down there, I might never come back up. They'll ask me to hold something for a minute and hours will go by before I get released. But a missed phone call might be from work. Damn.

I went down there. The husband had a blow torch in his hand and some silver stuff in the other. He put the silver stuff down and I dodged out of the way of the blow torch. Boy #2 is lucky to still be alive down here. The husband checked his phone and said, "It was mom, here call her back, it's ringing." I ducked out of the way of the blow torch and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mom it's Sue."

"Hi, was my son over here today?"

"Huh? Did you stop at your mom's today?"

"No." Torch answered.

"No mom he wasn't there."

"Oh, then it was Boy #2 and girlfriend #2."

I turned my attention to Boy #2, he turned around and I was happy to see he still had both his eyebrows. "Did you go to Grandma's today?"

"No."

"No mom, nobody here was over."

"Well then who put my toilet seat up?"

Uhhhhhhhh..............................

"I never put it up, somebody had to. Somebody was here."

It appears there is a toilet seat mystery over at my sister-in-laws and it was carrying over 7 miles away to our house. We need to solve this pronto, Survivor, Survivor Nicaragua, still on pause. Damn.

I heard a discussion going on in the background and listened intently, well as intently as I could with a blow torch flailing in our laundry room.

With the husband and Boy #2 off the hook the only other possibility was...............the great grandson, the 4 year old. The 4 year peed in grandma's toilet and didn't put the seat down.

"Are you watching that blow torch?"

"Yes, I'm watching the blow torch."

"It's just that you almost torched me twice."

"Go watch your show."

I mentioned on FaceBook last weekend that I would rather stick a fork in my eye than be involved in a home improvement project. That hasn't changed.

10 reasons I'm crabby today

These are not in any order of importance, remember I'm crabby and I shall not put forth the effort.

1. It's Monday.

2. I couldn't get my bra straps in the right spot all day, all day I suffered.

3. I'm 40 something and still treated like a child at work. I get my tedious work done in a timely fashion and don't need to be checked up on. I should have taken school seriously and I wouldn't be in this position, ahhhh to be young and stupid again.

4. My dishwasher is broken.

5. I'm scared Prince Poppycock isn't going to win America's Got Talent. He's made it to the final 4 but I don't think he has a good enough sob story to win over the sappy hearts of the American people. Michael Grimm trots out his aging grandparents every episode. Fighting Gravity gave up a semester of college to follow their dream. The little opera singer is just way to cute and has a voice of an angel, unless she's lip sinking, which I don't think she is but you still have to give her credit for remembering all those Italian words. I'm scared for you Prince Poppycock, I suggest you do some crying after your last performance.

6. I watch America's Got Talent.

7. I found out today that the polar bears in Alaska do not float around on icebergs drinking Coca-Cola. Can you believe we've been dooped all this time? Speaking of dooped how about that Global Warming, huh? Nissan you have got to be kidding me.

8. I broke my ankle bracelet this morning, two minutes before I had to leave for work. I will be finding teeny weeny little beads for all eternity.

9. I have to go to work again, tomorrow.

10. Did I mention it's Monday?

In case I've dragged your spirits down, here is a very funny video from America's Got Talent this year:

Shopping with mother and the two areas I must avoid to maintain my sanity

There are two places in the mall that I must never, under any circumstance let my mother trap me for any length of time. One would be the perfume aisles. I was born with the wrong nose for fake fragrances therefore become nauseated when surrounded by them. Mother walks down the aisles with her arms stretched out, wrists facing up and actually asks to be sprayed by the ladies armed with spray bottles. When she runs out of space on her arms she grabs mine. This has been going on since I was a child and I know I'm traumatized by it, mother thinks it's funny the way I break out into a cold sweat when we get near the perfume section at Macy's. Just imagine the ride home in the car after all that spraying, just imagine it! I also think my sense of smell has been damaged.
Two, and we will tread here ever so gently, the lingerie section. A source of embarrassment stemming from childhood also. It all started when she thought I needed a bra. All her friends were getting to go bra shopping with their daughters, she didn't want to be left out, problem was I didn't really need a bra until I was 16 or so. But she strapped them on me whether I needed them or not. Throughout the years mother has been in search of the perfect fit for me. It became her obsession. She'd drag me over to the bra racks, ha that's funny, bra rack, bra's for racks, anyway she'd say, "Go try this on. Look how pretty it is."
"Mom."
"Can I help you ladies?" This is when she'd bring in outsiders to help find me the perfect fit.
"Yes, we're trying to find a bra to fit my daughter here." And then they would both look at my boobs or lack there of and nod in agreement. An unspoken look of 'she's flat as a pancake, can we help her?' look would come over both their faces.
Off I went into the changing room to try on an array of bra's. Not being the sharpest knife in the drawer it took me several embarrassing episodes like this to realize that all I had to do was say the first one I tried on felt fine. Then suffer for all eternity with an uncomfortable bra.
Finally I've been able to put the bra situation behind me by carefully avoiding the lingerie department whenever shopping with mother. Saturday we went to the mall. She was in search of a camisole, I wasn't. So mother would meander over to the lingerie department and I would say, "I'll be over here looking at shoes mom." Then I would go collect her when I couldn't find shoes I liked, because I can never find them when I'm looking, looking. At our last stop I found her in the back, as I got closer I saw her rummaging through a pantie bargain bin.
Careful, my inside voice said to myself.
"Mom did you find your camisole?"
"Nope, you can never find one when you're looking for it."
"I hear you, can't find black sandals on the clearance rack."
"Are you ready to go home?" I asked as I started rummaging too.
"Yes, let's go home. Do you need underwear?"
"Yeah, I can never...."

OH

"find a pair........"

MY

"that I really like."

GOD

The words just came out of my mouth, I couldn't stop them, what the hell is wrong with me?

Mother started sifting through the bargain bin like bull in a china shop. "What size? What color? Look at this little bow. Oh this lacy one, the husband will like those!"

Dear God what have I done?

The going to Hell thing and where we all plan to meet up when we get there.

Gah! You think I'd get a better response on the post that probably sealed my fate and has sent me straight to hell. I asked for guesses on the two pictures I took and posted. I was shooting for 10, I got two. My feelings are hurt and almost never posted again. I'm thinking about not even telling you where the pictures are from, so there.

We at work, the core group of "going straight to hell" people have decided to meet up at the beach......in hell when we get there. One of the women at work said there's a beach so we decide that's as good as place as any to meet. You've got to have a plan. We figure there will be no water and the sand will be real hot. You know how it is when you have to run from towel to towel if you don't have your flip flops? In hell there will be no flip flops, no water and we're pretty sure no sun screen. So it's important to work on your base tan. That's what I've been doing all summer, working on my tan and preparing for hell.

Now last week, Thursday, I dragged my ass out of bed at 4:00 am, managed to shower, get dressed, put make up on and dry and curl my hair. I was picked up by Erv, mom and dad and all of them were showered and had nice hair. They have all decided to go with the gray by the way, I continue to fight it. Anyway off we went to the world renowned Cleveland Clinic, dad was having surgery.
Here is a link from the last post I made after one of Dad's surgeries.

This woman in the picture obviously slept through her alarm, looked in the mirror and thought, "These big lime green curlers in my hair are workin' for me today." Left the house and wheeled her father into the surgery maze along with us, we reunited in the locker room, which is where Erv dared me to take the picture. Did it, going to hell, saw her at breakfast too.

My 2 guessers Carol of Confessions of a Reforming Geek and Leeuna of My Mind Wandered are also my best commentors. They were both right on, although Carol was first and Leeuna kind of followed, but let's face it, it was kind of easy. That's why I don't feel bad not giving out a prize or anything. But thanks for playing sorry I have no parting gifts girls.

What the hell is that?

When I took these pictures I wasn't sure what I'd do with them but I was sure I had to take them. Mom and Erv dared me. I've never taken a picture of a stranger with the soul intent on making fun of them. While mom and Erv provided distracting chatter I snapped the pictures. I'm so going to hell. Now what do I do with them? I could right now explain where, when and why but I thought I'd post them and let you take a guess first. The idea came to me suddenly when I remembered Kathy at The Junk Drawer and her "What's that Wednesday" picture contest. She takes a picture of a small part of a big picture and people take a guess at what it is. She generates around 50 to 100 guesses, I'm shooting for 10. Erv, you are excluded from this contest.

There are no prizes but you will be made fun of in my next post if you come close to guessing what the hell that is.

The certain chain of events that lead to the realization I'm running out of patience.

Where can I get more of that? Because mine is wearing thin and I need some more.
Let me be perfectly clear. (A little Obama lingo there.) At no point during the unfolding of these events were any Senior Citizens harmed in any way, mentally or physically. I, on the other hand, well I have issues now, I probably need therapy but won't seek it.

1.) I went to the doctor's appointment that was almost impossible to get because the office workers hate me. The doctor thinks I'm funny and refilled my prescription and told me to come back in 6 months. I should probably start trying to make the appointment now, but I'm holding out hope that he fires all the bitches there and hires nice people.

2.) I have to pee. And so hungry I could eat the ass of a skunk.

3.) I'm just going to drop off the prescription at the handy dandy drive-thru. Those of us born after 1917 know how a drive-thru works, I'm just sayin'.

4.) There is a car in front of me, I wait. I wait through an entire U2 song. This is where the patience issue comes into play. I jester with the hands in the air.

5.) The car begins to move, then stops. I can't get my car to the drive-thru window, I can't do it.

6.) I raise my hand ready to slam on my horn, when the car in front of me door opens. A very feeble arm attached to it and a Senior Citizen gets out of the car. My jaw drops open and hangs there as I watch this woman slowly get out of her car, walks to the end of her car, waves to me with a big friendly smile and says thank you. Thank you? For what?

7.) Dear God she bent over and picked something up, waved it in the air and said, "Here it is." Still smiling, she returned to her car and drove away. I inched up to the window and the cashiers jaw was dropped as far down as mine. "I almost honked my horn at her. She'd have jumped out of her Depends."

This dear sweet woman, who I almost gave a heart attack, face is etched in my brain forever. I want to take her to tea, give her a hug and I don't know maybe pay her electric bill or something.

I blame my hormones, women can use hormones for just about everything. Mine have been misfiring for months now. But the patience thing, I think I'll work on that.

STELLA!

When Boy #3 had all four wisdom teeth surgically removed, he was presented with a prescription for Vicodin. I'm not sure how to spell it but who cares really. The family can't handle the drug and they are fun to watch when on it. I pretty much moved Boy #3 around the house like a puppet that weekend he was hopped up. I left him on his own when he went to the bathroom, I just waited outside in case I heard a thud. I was willing to help as much as I could but we have to draw the line somewhere. I didn't cross over the peeing line or the feeding of the leopard gecko. You have to touch crickets to feed Sid. Boy #3 insisted he could do it. "I can call your brother."
"I got it."
So I stood there holding him steady while he tried to grab crickets. I hadn't suppressed laughter like that since I was a kid sitting in church and Erv and I tried to make each other laugh. Those crickets were 3 steps ahead of him and he thought they were in his hand. We laugh about it now, well I do, he doesn't remember it.
The husband a few years ago got shingles, pretty sure that's an old person ailment but I kept my mouth shut. He was bestowed a prescription of Vicodin also. Thanksgiving Day getting ready to go to his sisters house I yelled down the hall, "Are you ready shingle boy?" No answer. "Did you take your Vicodin?" I turned the corner with a crock pot of mashed potatoes in my arms and saw him at the end of the hall with a stupid grin on his face and he yelled, "STELLA!"

Well that's just unheard of

Ordinarily I don't drink my piping hot mocha cappuccino from McDonald's with a straw. Actually I think there might be a law against that sort of behavior. You just don't mess around with hot beverages. The pre-printed cups tell us caution contents is hot don't drink with a straw dummy or something like that. So you can imagine my surprise when I got to work, put down the precious liquid some of you call mocha cappuccino, opened my McDonald's bag from the drive through window and found my beloved egg McMuffin, some napkins and huh, a straw. The hell? I don't see the correlation here. What the hell kind of a world does the girl at window #2 live in? She was of middle eastern decent, those are the one you have to watch out for, them and the Russians at the pool. When she handed me my hot beverage straight from heaven she said, "Mocha?" Like it was the first time in her life she's ever said it, which make me sad to think that middle easterners have never had the pleasure of sipping a mocha cappuccino and they have no idea whether to use a straw or not. I thought I had my hands full keeping an eye on the Russians, now I have this McDonald's girl to watch.

Crisis in the Driveway

You should probably read my last post before you read this one, it's kind of a continuation but not, sort of.

Now that I have the Russians where I want them here at the pool, I can write my original post I had planned for today. It's a good thing to continue to write anyway just to keep the Russians guessing.

So imagine if you will Boy #3's car in the driveway with a dead as a door knob battery. Boy #2 has been summoned to help, girlfriend #2 tags along and me in my bathing suit with my pool bag trying to decide if I should leave the 2 hot heads and the nicer than nice even tempered girlfriend in the driveway without a referee. If I stay I'll lose my spot at the pool for sure, but this girl is probably going to have a huge part in picking out my nursing home, since she's a nurse. I stayed. Jump starting this car is not as easy you think. First you have to get the hood open and that involves 2 to 3 people, a screwdriver and a flashlight. Isn't it funny how Boy #3 just started to make payments to us on this car and stuff keeps breaking? A screw driver flew through the air, some swearing took place. "I'm selling this car." He's made 2 payments. The girlfriend tried to introduce calm, logic into the scene and I worried about my spot at the pool.

Let me take another glance at the Russians. I really want to point at my eyes and then to them but I'm not that brave.

The hood opened, the jumper cables didn't reach from the truck so Boy #2 drove the John Deere over and Boy #3's bucket of bolts started right up. I'm going to have to make sure that car has a survival kit in it, screwdriver will be on top of the list. This is about when the husband decided to see what was going on in the driveway. You might ask why I didn't get him involve earlier, easy, he's the original hot head. Three hot heads in the driveway is too much.

The Russians are here

Well it just doesn't get any better than this. I got to the pool minutes before the woman that takes my spot did. Minutes! In your face pool spot stealer. HA! I was still setting up when she walked in. This has been my spot for years, I don't know who the hell she thinks she is. We have had an unspoken fight over this spot all summer. She's even brought a friend of hers into this, some muscle, if you know what I mean. Today is a small victory for me, hooray for me and my awesome timing.
And if this wasn't enough fun, the Russians are here, speaking Russian and everything. They could be talking about me right now and I wouldn't know it. Hell they could be talking about world domination and I'd be clueless. So as I write I keep looking over at them. My reasoning is they'll think I'm taking notes. These Russians will not take over the world on my watch. They talk funny. They have the same house address as we do just a different street. I found this out a couple years ago walking the dog. I suppose getting their mail by mistake would be a post just waiting to be written. But if you are a steady reader of my blog you know that I have foreignpeopleaphobia. I would probably make one of the boys take their mail to them and Boy #1 would do it, he has no fear of foreigners. Catch him in the right mood and I could get him to knock on anyone's door.
Jeez, I wish I could catch some of these words that are coming out of their mouths, it's just a bunch of ishkabibbles. I haven't heard them say vodka yet, they like that right? I'm going to go swim some laps and see if I can catch anything that sounds like, "Our plan is coming along very nicely Victor."

............................

Back....... I got nothing to report to the Feds.

An open letter to all office workers in a doctors office

I'm naming names. Hey guess what? I just snapped.
First of all let me get this out of the way. There are angels that work in doctors office's, I've met them, Cindy comes to mind. That woman worked past closing hours to find me an appointment ASAP when I was dazed and on the verge of tears. So being nice to patients - do-able.
Julie, you can kiss my ass. Thank you so very much for letting me run out of my prescription. We are patients, not a sack of potato's to schlep around at your convenience. We call when we are sick, when we need medicine, when we're ready to cry, when we are trying to get our kids taken care of, when we need advice, help, a caring voice on the other end of the line. Let us talk to our doctor damn it.
Hey you, I forgot your name, when I call you and make an appointment for my kid and tell you he's going to run out of his prescription before this appointment. Don't you dare piss on me and tell me it's raining, bitch. "Oh just call it in and they will see he has an appointment, they'll refill it." Then you leave me a message on my answering machine at home so I can't get a hold of you because it's after hours when I get home. I can't wait to call you tomorrow on your Saturday hours and if you think I won't call the doctors answering service and insist on talking to him to tell him how incompetent you are, think again. I've done it before.

I feel a little better now.
Debbie don't read this to mom.