The home of the strange and the land of the weird

There are times when I need to leave the safe confines of my neighborhood to find inspiration for a blog post. WalMart. But not in the last couple weeks. Seven kinds of crazy have been wandering around in bathrobes, mailboxes have been flying through the air and now people are walking canoes down the street. I love my neighborhood and all the kookamongas that live here.

We live in a lake community so it isn't really, really weird to see people taking a canoe for a walk it's just that they are going in the opposite direction of the shore. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this type of behavior and I've seen stranger things walk down my side of the street, but who wouldn't take a picture of this?

And then make fun of it?

So I have a new mailbox now

I believe there was a hit taken out on my mailbox. Under the shroud of darkness Saturday night the unmistakable sound of my mailbox being smacked startled me at 10:30 pm. Boy #3 and I were the only ones home. We both knew what happened as soon as we heard it and ran out the front door. Because that's the way we roll, him with his golf club and me in my slippers. We saw nothing but the remnants of our mailbox scattered on the lawn with only its post sticking out of the ground. We looked up and down the street, remained outside waiting to see if anyone would come back to confess but it was not to be. It was a vicious assault nothing more.
Because of my outspoken posts of mailbox vandalism here and here, I believe my mailbox became a target. My freedom of speech is under attack! I guess I'm reaching more readers than I thought. Which is a way to look at the whole experience in a positive way I suppose.
As you can see in the picture, having three boys is coming in handy, the husband didn't have to lift a finger during the installation of the new mailbox.
It's has been a pleasure to wake up in the morning and see that it is still standing too.

The man in the pajamas

I couldn't help myself. I see a man walking in his pajamas and it's like a huge magnet pulling me towards the unknown dangers that might be waiting on that street. And it's a culdesac I could get trapped there. But the dog and I have been back twice since we passed the man walking down the middle of the road with his bathrobe belt dragging behind him.
We saw him both times at his house. The first walk by was Friday. On our way into the foreboding culdesac he sat in a lawn chair, pajama clad, smoking a cigarette. Now that's a normal look to me, obviously he isn't allowed to smoke in the house. We all said, "Good Morning."
Really after just rolling out of bed, throwing some clothes on while the dog bounces off the walls, Good Morning is about all you're going to get out of me. Even if we're related and haven't seen each other in 25 years at old Uncle Ned's funeral, Good Morning is all I have until coffee and a shower. I won't even understand you nor remember what you said, don't even try.
Our second walk into the abyss, today, we didn't see him until our way out. He must have finished his cigarette and he was in the process of putting his American Flag in it's post. Good Mornings were exchanged. And I took note that yes, he was in his bathrobe.
I have deemed him a non-threat and reasonably sane. I think we caught him on an off day when he looked like he had just escape a nursing home walking down the road in his jammies and light jacket. He has the presence of mind to know how to take care of the American Flag. So cut him some slack people.

_______________________

Now I will attempt to post this. Blogger has decide to screw with that which isn't broken. All my buttons and whistles are cut-off so I'm just guessing at which one says save or publish.
I'm also posting from an undisclosed location. I needed to get out of my office for a few hours and I needed a mocha.

I'm treading very carefully here because I understand how Karma works

Apparently it's perfectly acceptable to take an early morning walk on Clipper Cove in your pajamas, robe and a light jacket. I might be avoiding that street on future walks. Let me tell you why.

1. The elderly man in his pajamas with his robe tie-around dragging on the ground and knit hat haphazardly a skewed on top of his head was a bit unsettling.
B. The dog looked back at me and I know she was thinking about all the time we could save in the morning if I would just stop looking for a pair of jeans and go out in my PJ's and a light jacket.

As we passed each other he said good morning and I the same. I processed the vision for about 50 feet then looked back and he was gone. I'm treading very carefully here because I understand how Karma works. So instead of being faced with the situation again I'm going to ignore and avoid. And focus my attention on the mailbox mayhem.
Two days after I found evidence of my mailbox being assaulted (see mailbox mayhem link) my neighbors was too and I have pictures. You don't take out a mailbox on my street and not get your picture taken. Especially when you give me 3 chances to get my camera. He kept driving back to the scene of the crime. Once to get his mirror and then to pick up the mail that had burst out of the mailbox, shove it back in the box and try to place the mailbox back on its perch. So that's 2 mailboxes in one week. I have things to do and can't be taken pictures of evil-doers. Keep your eyes on the road when you're in my neighborhood. We have children playing, people walking dogs and old men wandering around in their pajamas for God's sake.

Don't make me get my flying monkeys

You smack your cars driver side mirror backing out of the garage one time and you're labeled for life? A Car Drivers Side Mirror breaker? Labeled by those that you carried in your womb for nine, give or take, months?
The dog and I went out for our usual morning walk. We both took notice at the remnants of a cars side mirror. The dog sniffed the mailbox and I inspected it, we deemed it fit. Somebody had hit our mailbox with their cars side mirror. Being somewhat of an expert on the plastic pieces and parts that make up those mirrors I deduced that we had all the outside parts and there is somebody driving around the neighborhood with only the guts of their passenger side mirror and 7 years of bad luck.
With my one time incident, I only popped off the big plastic piece on the back and broke a few pieces around the mirror. The mirror remains intact and so are my next 7 years, hopefully. I gathered the fragments of the late night assault on our mailbox and left them on the grass, thinking the out of control driver might want them back. I even thought that if it was a little warmer outside I might set up a lawn-chair to see if anyone drove by looking suspicious and without a mirror on the right side of their car. I wanted to say 'hey what the hell'...... in a non-confrontational way. But like I said it was a little chilly out.
The day then carried on as usual with me striving to meet with writing success and the dog napping. I then began to prepare dinner for my beloved family. First to come home from work was Boy #3. He walked in the door with a smirk on his face and asked,
"Hey mom, what'd you do to your car?"
I looked his way as he tried to suppress a smile, I pointed my finger at him and said,
"That isn't from my car. Some moron hit our mailbox. Why would you think it was my mirror?"
"Uhh... because I'm the one that put your mirror back together the last time you crashed into the garage."
As I was explaining my almost perfect driving record while slaving over the stove Boy #2 walked in the door, grinning and asked,
"What uhh.... what'd you do to your car mom?"
"It isn't from my car! Some idiot hit our mailbox!"
They both continued to grin. This was going to go on all evening, I know my boys.
"Go back your car out of the garage so we can see for sure."
"Wait! Maybe you better let one of us do it."
I continued to cook my gourmet meal for them and shook my wooden spoon in there faces. My eyebrows came together, my eyes narrowed into two menacing slits on my face and I started to ramble while swinging the wooden spoon,
"You two are alive because of me, carried you in my body for nine months. Labor, don't get me started on labor. 12 hours for each of you and no epidural. Tell me I'm a bad driver will ya? I taught you two how to drive."
They slowly started to plan there escape, well it's the same plan they always use, they separate. Every man for himself kind of plan. But before they were out of earshot I shouted out to them,
"Don't make me get my flying monkeys!"
I retold the story to my mother about finding the broken car part by my mailbox and she said,
"Oh I thought you were going to tell me you hit it."

Don't worry, I have everything under control

My obligatory Easter post is HERE on www.skirt.com, it's called Rockin' with the Jesus Hippies. So I didn't forget Easter or Jesus, they're just on another blog because I want to post about the Russians today. Is there a Russian Easter Bunny? Let's stay on topic.
The dog and I have several routes we take in the morning for our walks. Sometimes we run into the Russian Lady from the pool, she's branched out from her swimming regimen and has taken to walking. This makes me nervous because she can be anywhere any time of the day, just walking or spying around the neighborhood. I say "Good Morning" when I see her and she replies back in a thick Russian accent. I'm thinking of making friends with her this summer at the pool just to see if I can get her to say Moose and Squirrel. And if someone double dog dares me, I'll record it.
You have to admire a woman that will swim around the perimeter of a pool for two hours, not taking a break. She doesn't move very fast but she's got a slow and steady pace that one would think would take off a few pounds. And now I've been running into her on her morning walks and she still the same size. The only logical explanation is that she's a Russian spy. So I'll keep an I eye on her and perhaps she can fill the void that The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude left.

I never thought it would end this way

Risking the chance of blowing a gasket in my brain and smoke coming out of my ears, I will write my final post from The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files. As you know if you have been following the files, The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and 'her' have moved back to China leaving their incompetent relatives to run/ruin their business. They lost my four shirt.
I understand mistakes can be made. But am a customer, paying for a service and expect to be treated as though I have several active brain cells working simultaneously, therefore distancing myself from idiot status. In other words I know what the husbands shirts look like and I'm positive I know what size they are.
I picked up four shirts from my new dry cleaner. She's an Indian woman and easier to understand in person than on the phone. I've had conversations with her, in fact I think I've spoken to her more in the two times I've been there than I ever did at that old place. Not counting the recent yelling. She remembered our first phone conversation and knows me by name already and I think she is trying to recruit me as a volunteer salesman in my community. She's asked me to spread the word around about her Dry Cleaning. Anyone within the sound of my voice take her some dry cleaning. I don't want to search for another dry cleaner if she goes out of business.
I waited a week for the incompetent ones to call me. No call so I put the cleaned shirts in my car, these are the ones I had on the counter ready to drop off and pick up. But if you lose my shirts, I'm not going to leave you more to lose. I walked in the old place and the moment Incompetent Girl saw me she immediately gave me the four shirt she tried to pass off as mine originally. The ones that are 2 sizes to small and brown. The husband never wears brown. So I looked at her and in a loud but calm voice said,
"How many times do I have to tell you these are not my husbands shirts before you believe me?"
She responded by talking down to me,
"These are your shirt. My brother saw the sizes on the shirt you had on the counter and they are the same size as these."
So there you have, she struck a nerve, I blew a gasket, they started talking Chinese behind the counter and pointing at me. I went to my car, showed her my freshly washed and pressed shirts from my new dry cleaner and the size on each one. I looked her in her eyes and said,
"You are going to pay me for the four shirts you lost now."
And she wrote me a check.
It was a sad way to end my relationship with The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files. I never thought it would end this way.

They lost my four shirt!

They lost my four shirt! Damn it, they lost my four shirt! I went to the dry cleaners formally known as The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes and their distant relatives that took over the store lost my four shirt. I knew something like this would happen. And I knew I would be forced to find a new dry cleaner. Gah! I have things to do.
I'm in the throws of a raging sinus infection and the antibiotics aren't working. This is nothing new for me but I feel like hell. So don't give me 'four shirt' that are 2 sizes smaller than the ones I dropped off and ask me if I'm sure they are not mine. And then don't ask me that two more times, cause I'm cranky.
Now apparently these distant relatives of my beloved Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude gave my 'four shirt' to somebody else. I have to wait to see if somebody else realizes he has the wrong 'four shirt' and brings them back or decides they are nicer than the ones he dropped off and keeps them. Since I'm not scared of these new dry cleaners I told them,
"You are going to pay me for 4 new shirts if I don't get these back."
Notice there wasn't a question mark punctuating that last statement. She responded,
"Yes."
If worse comes to worse I get to go shopping. Four new shirts for the husband and I should get myself something nice too. For the trauma I've suffered and the strain on my already weakened state.
Now the good news. I got on the internets and found a new dry cleaner, not to far away. But the best part.....wait for it........the woman that answered sounded ethnic. I could barely understand her and I don't think she understood me either. I'm so stoked.

Margarita-ville

I blew out my flip-flop. Stepped on a pop-top. Cut my heel had to cruise on back home. But there's booze in the blender. And soon it will render that frozen concoction that helps me hang on.
I don't visit Margarita-ville often and I suppose there's a reason. I like them, a lot. They are de-licious. I found myself in a Mexican restaurant, seated around a table with family and friends and a glass of that wonderful liquid in front of me. They go down so easy. We arrived hungry, a margarita on an empty stomach goes to work quick. So I shoveled down chips and salsa as fast as I could. I wanted a slight buzz and to also enjoy my dinner. But you make one slip like slurring your words or grinning and not being able to stop, friends and family pounce on your inebriated state and order more drinks. Before you know it you have a new full glass of de-licious frozen margarita with the salt around the rim of the glass waiting for you to slam it down.
Two of us at the table had no problem slamming them down, it was the standing up part that proved to be a challenge. Right Diane? We don't know who the people in the picture are but they were celebrating something and some dancing was involved, it wasn't me. I took the picture but was jealous I didn't get a hat. I would have liked a hat. I remember eating a lot and have a good time. Once in a while a trip to Margarita-ville is a really good idea. Right Diane?

Snot Preparedness Process

Everyone in the house was sick, they went down one after the other, except me. I remained snot free. I thought I was in the clear until yesterday. I now have a head full of snot. Being the number one caregiver in the house because no one else will do it and because it's in my nature to tell people what to do, I must take care of myself.
I have my beloved Nyquil so I'm not worried. But to make life easier and to keep from getting out of my warm bed in the middle of the night, over the years I've perfected a snot preparedness process before going to bed.
On my windowsill I place some tissues, a small glass of water and nasal spray. So when I wake up not being able to breath through my nose my tissues are right there so I can blow. Then I have a glass of water for the dry mouth I have from breathing through my mouth. Then I can snort the nasal spray, clearing my nasal passages without getting out of bed.
I urge you to try my system as I think it's a pretty good plan unless you have to pee. One warning though, I found this out the hard way. If you are immersed in the throws of a raging cold or the flu and your thought process is affected or you are working on a good Nyquil buzz, leave the nasal spray in the bathroom. This is why:
Half asleep in the middle of the night, not able to even recall the names of my children, I grabbed the nasal spray. I broke protocol and went right to step 3. I didn't even lift my head off my pillow, shoved the upside down bottle up my nose and shot the liquid straight to my brain. It burned my sinus cavities on the way. Once in there it dislodged several brain cells, rendering me an idiot. The brain cells are still in there slamming against the inside of my skull wondering what the hell happened. My eyeballs almost popped out of their sockets and I'm quite certain smoke came out of my ears. After the initial thrust into my brain the liquid then flowed down the back of my throat, scorching my esophagus as it made it's way to my stomach where it settled only to make me nauseated. At that point I had to get out of bed to first throw up and then to make sure everything on my face was where it was suppose to be. I was happy to see my eyes still in their sockets. But I looked like hell. I made myself worse.
I hope I've helped some of you during this cold and flu season. Oh and don't tell my mom about this post, she gets mad when I say snot.

Uh, what we miss?

There are times in our lives when the stars align in such a way that circumstances beyond our control happen in perfect order, leaving us standing with our mouths hung open, speechless asking ourselves,

"Did that really just happen?"
Several years ago I asked Boy #2 what he wanted for his 12th birthday and he replied,
"I want one of those T-Shirts that says, 'can't sleep clowns will eat me' in black."
And then he rattled off a list of video games. I'm the one that showed him the T-Shirt because I thought it was pretty damn funny. I ordered it and we got it in time for his birthday. He wore it all the time and received a lot of comments and laughs.
One afternoon I had all three boys with me and we had to stop for gas. The gas station had a Subway in it and we were hungry. But Boy #1 and Boy #3 wanted Burger King which was right next door. I gave them money to buy their beloved cheeseburgers and Boy #2, with his 'can sleep clowns will east me' t-shirt on, and I went into the gas station to order some subs.
The cashier, a young kid probably 17 or 18, saw the T-Shirt,
"Oh my God, that's too funny." And he called the other employees over to see the T-Shirt. Other customers took a look see also. We all had a good laugh and returned to our designated duties, them working and us ordering subs.
Still with grins on our faces we glanced at the entrance of the store and everyone's face froze. A clown walked in, hand on the bible, honest to God, a clown walked in to use the restroom. I suppose she's used to people staring at her because it didn't phase her that the entire store of customers and employees followed her every move wide eyed and dumb struck.
Once in the bathroom with the door closed behind her we all spoke at once,
"Oh my God."
"That was a clown."
"Did you see that?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"What are the odds?"
And all eyes went to Boy#2 and somebody told him to run because the clown was going to eat him. The laughter ensued. When the clown came out of the ladies room we all whipped our heads back to what we were doing, whistling away and looking up at the ceiling as she made her exit. I stood in front of Boy #2 the whole time, hiding his shirt. No body is going to eat my kid.
That was when Boy #1 and Boy#3 walked in and saw everyone in the store laughing,
"Uh, what we miss?"

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files #OMG - WTF

And so it ends my friends, The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and her are staying in China. I didn't even get a chance to say good-bye. This is truly a sad day for me and my blog. This will be my final Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude post, unless the new Chinese people get a personality.
How can they do this to me? Why would Chinese immigrants leave their communist homeland to live the American Dream and then go back to a one party dictatorship? How does that make sense?
I had heard rumors that they were gone from my mother, who's friend heard that they were gone for good. Refusing to believe, I PM'ed her friends daughter on FaceBook who confirmed the rumor to be true. And then I braved our current blizzard of 2012 to see and hear for myself.
The new Chinese girl and I actually carried on a conversation, she understood everything I said and pronounced my name correctly. So you can see why I'm so upset. My next stop was the liquor store to pick up a bottle of raspberry vodka. I plan to get a good buzz going and read my old From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files posts tonight. I will raise my glass of raspberry vodka and orange juice, which is by far the best booze concoction that has ever past my lips, and toast two of the best characters any blogger can run across.
Farewell my Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and her, farewell.

Planning for the End of the World

I'm not an alarmist, I'm a thinker.
I spent a week recuperating on the couch watching movies. Movies from the library and movies on TV. What happened to me during this drug induced fog, I'm not sure. But I'm quiet certain the end is near.

I watched Knowing, Armageddon, 2012, oh and Iron Man 2, Robert Downey Jr. is awesome. The three end of the world movies have me perplexed. I'm just not sure which way to go with my preparations. Will it be an asteroid? Will the sun melt us all except for the children that can hear the voices and are saved by the aliens? Or is the Earths core going to erupt and send the tectonic plates in a raging uproar?

With any scenario I'm, well let's face it, we, are pretty screwed. That's why I decided that first I need to find someone who can fly a plane, a big plane. So if you can fly a big plane 'friend me' on FaceBook. I want to be your BFF. I will also need one billion dollars. There is a button on the right column of my blog that says "Donate", click on that and be generous. You will need a PayPal account so get to it.
I'm not one to sit around waiting to kiss my ass good-bye, I'm a doer, a planner and a thinker. So I need to find where the aliens hang out and somehow convince them to beam me up, I'd be huge asset to the start up of the new world and mankind.
The asteroid thing concerns me. I don't know any oil-drillers or astronauts. And I'm not sure that building an underground bunker is going to work because according to Charlton Heston and I quote:
'This is the Earth, at a time when the dinosaurs roamed a lush and fertile planet.
A piece of rock just 6 miles wide changed all that.
It hit with the force of 10,000 nuclear weapons. A trillion tons of dirt and rock hurtled into the atmosphere, creating a suffocating blanket of dust the sun was powerless to penetrate for a thousand years. It happened before. It will happen again. It's just a question of when.'
Gah! I hope NASA and the best oil driller in the world are on top of this. We have the technology that the dinosaurs didn't.
The original Iron Man was better than Iron Man 2, which is always the case with a sequel I suppose. I'm also looking forward to seeing The Avengers, Robert Downey Jr. is in that as Iron Man. It comes out in May of this year and that being 2012. I'm sure we'll have time to see it before the mayhem starts. Pretty sure.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files #815

I have everything figured out now. It took a while but the lights are all on and somebody's home....me. At least for this post, I'm playing with a full deck. The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and 'her' are not back yet but I can explain why.
They are Chinese. We established this fact several posts ago. And they are in China to see their new grandchild. They have been gone for months and months, it's been worrisome for me. I depend on them for blogging material. I continue to check on them by asking the various family members when I stop in for my 4 shirt. Really there is never the same person behind that counter and language barrier is exhausting. But the last time I checked they will be back after the Chinese New Year which is at the end of January.
Back over at my other blog View of Sue information has been pouring into my brain and I didn't even know it. Being part of the Blog Chain from Absolute Write I've been reading some new blogs. Our prompt this month was Winter Nightmare. I read, I comment, I go on to the next blog and do it again.
Walking out of the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes yesterday I stopped in my tracks and said,
"Ohhh." And smacked myself in the head.
I remembered reading a post about having a baby in China here at a blog called Let's Get Happy. The author explains that it is Chinese custom when a baby is born one set of grandparents arrives at the new babies parents house and stay to help out. They stay for a month, maybe two and they are there 24/7. The horror!
So I put 2 and 2 together, The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and 'her' have settled into the home of one of their children and taken over and I've estimated that they have overstayed their welcome big time.
I know I will walk in there one day and they will be back in their places with bright shining faces. I just hope I don't make a complete ass of myself and hug them and stuff. I miss them.

Oh yes I did!

Bundling up for a early morning walk in, what was it? Maybe 20 degrees? It is a chore to make sure I'm going to be warm and I don't forget anything. All the while the dog is jumping around like a kangaroo because she knows she's going on a walk.
I went into my office to grab my hoodie and what did I see outside my window? Another dog walker out in the cold. I'm not crazy after all. That is until I saw this dog walker, a woman, bagging up her dogs poop, as well she should, especially when it's my yard. Only my dog is allowed to poop there.
I threw my hoodie on and as my head came out the hoodie hole I saw the unbelievable. The woman bagged the poop and threw in on my lawn. Who does that? Why bother bagging it when you're going to leave it? Bagging it is the worse part. Swinging it around while you walk isn't pleasant but it's odor is contained by then.
I jumped into action,
"Not cool, not cool."
"What?" the husband said as I ran past him and down the stairs to the front door.
I opened the door, the woman and her dog were almost 2 houses away when I yelled,
"Are you going to leave that bag there?"
She jumped a little, turned around and said,
"Oh, I pick it up on my way back."
The hell you say, not buying it, the dog and I readied ourselves for the hunt.
The boys have told me back in the summer when they were cutting the grass that they had found bags of poop in our yard before. I just found the offender and she wasn't getting away with it anymore. HA!
Out the door I let the dog take a whiff and away we went hot on the trail of the poop bagging bitch. I have way too much time on my hands and perhaps I am a little crazy but we found them. They were on the other side of the street, I made my way to the corner partially hidden by some bushes and called the husband,
"She's on her way."
"Babe............"
"Fine I got this." And I made myself seen.
She crossed the street and picked up her plastic bag. Booyah! I scared her. Oh yes I did!

Farvel Cargo's most noteworthy and best top 10 posts of 2011

It was hard to narrow them down to just 10, but it should only take you 3 or 4 hours to read them. Some of them have links to other posts. Drop what you are doing and get to it.

1. Help I've fallen and I can get up but would like some assistance
2. It just popped open on it's own
3. Please wait be back in 2 minute
4. WILSON!!!!!!!!!
5. Which button, which button?
6. I have this ball bouncing around in there, smacking the sides of my skull and rolling around my brain rendering me an idiot
7. Oh, this Twinkie thing, it ain't over yet.
8. Raising aging parents 101
9. Inferno Review for Brent
10.Lessons Learned the Hard Way

The amount of posts I've written each years has gone steadily down. So my goal is 100 post this year. Be prepared to be entertained.

Don't touch that.

I have to post this before I can finish my Christmas shopping. I've been given a deadline, by the husband who has suddenly become interested in my blog in a confrontational way.
I've been called out on my dead squirrel post and my defenses are up because I have yet to fully develop my thick writer's skin. I'm still under the false assumption that everyone loves my writing and agrees with everything I have to say. It's a nice little wall I've built around myself, although I welcome a brick being kicked out now and then. I can probably take it.
Back to the opposition and the negative review of not just the husbands but others, who shall remain nameless but you will be able to tell who they are because they will most likely not be able to contain their comments on FaceBook. As I sit typing I can see the spot where the dead squirrel is haphazardly covered with leaves on third base, most assuredly decaying in the unseasonably warm temperatures. I imagine, and I have a healthy imagination, it's covered in creepy, crawling creatures that feed on the dead. You can almost see a wave of germs seeping into the air and slowly spreading into the neighborhood. It lays there decomposing waiting for little Bobby and his friends to find it, poke it with a stick and start charging the neighborhood kids a dollar to see the dead thing on third base. If it was still on the street where roadkill belongs, it would be squished beyond recognition and it's remains would have been consumed by the vultures in the sky. That's how nature works with wild animals. I want to be clear, wild animals.
It is a mothers nightmare to think of her child poking dead things with a stick and dear God what if they touch it? Since they learned to reach out with the right and the left, we've told our kids,
"Don't touch that."
The fate of the world rests upon us moms teaching our offspring to leave dead animals untouched. They have dead germs. The kind of germs that spread out of control from little Bobby, the host, to all his little friends and then to their customers who paid a dollar to see the dead thing. These children take the dead germs home to their families and before you know it we have the Zombie Apocalypse, which I have been telling you for years is inevitable. I just didn't think it was going start across the street.
I hope this clears up any confusion on my roadkill theory.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files, #4815162342

You wouldn't think that a couple of Chinese dry cleaning immigrants would be able to afford a half a year vacation. Apparently mine can. Once again I stopped for my 4 shirt and the strangers were there. This is a little unsettling for me. Here are my reasons:

1. These younger Dry Cleaning "fill-ins" seem to have a firmer grasp of the English language. The failure to communicate was the reason The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and Her became regular blog fodder. I miss them.

B. When or if they come back, will I have to retrain them on how to say and spell my name? It took about a year last time. I'm getting all misty just thinking of the old days when I tried to explain "Seese with an S" to them. The thought of starting that all over again, well it's exhausting.

So at my last visit I inquired again and the strangers told me,

"Uncle and Auntie decided to stay for Chinese New Year."

"When the hell is that?" I said with my inside my head voice, my outside my head voice said,

"Oh." Then I scrunged up my entire face and asked,

"When is that, exactly?" I thought everyone had the same New Year, I mean I get calendars with my Chinese take out and they coincide with my calendars at home.

"At the end of January." She informed me.

All right then, another month and a half with the strangers. One day in February I will walk into The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes and he will be back there with the ominous shirt presses and she will be telling me 'have nice day'. All will be right with the world. I just hope I can contain my excitement when they get back, I miss them and their ongoing contribution to my blog.

This is a WTF situation

I hate to call it writers block, being at a loss for words, because it's my own fault. I'm easily distracted, there's bright and shiny lights outside now. All I needed to do though, was look past the pretty colors right out my front window to see the next post that had to be written.

The family and I looked out there this afternoon, scrunched our eyebrows together in udder disbelief, looked at one another and collectively said,

"Do you see what I'm seeing there?"

We all agreed it was something we never expected to see and that I should blog about.

"But where do I start?" I asked.

"A picture?" Boy #3 suggested.

"NO." The husband adamantly objected. I was already on my way to my camera, but stopped. I'll try to paint you a picture with my words.

The dog brought it to our attention with a low guttural growl, she was perched on top of the couch looking out the window with great interest. Boy #3 took a look.

"Huh."

Boy #2 took a look.

"Did that guy just hit that squirrel?"

"Yep." Boy #3 replied.

"What's he doing with it?

"Huh?" The husband took a look.

We have a "common area" across the street, one of several in the development and this guy picked up the squirrel he hit with his car and carried it over there.

"What the fff."

"Language!"

"Mom, this is a WTF situation. You have to say it here."

"Not necessarily, let's see what he does next."

"What the "freak"? He's burying it with leaves? Does he think no one can see him? It's daylight, it's 3:00 pm on the main road and there are people driving by and dogs barking. Who is this guy?"

"I should have my camera right now and film, not taking pictures, this is YouTube gold. It would have gone viral."

"NO." He's no fun, the husband.

The guy kept grabbing hand fulls of leaves and dropping them on the dead squirrel that he so lovingly dropped under a tree, where children play. Actually I think that tree was third base when my kids played over there.

"He's burying it on third base." Boy #2 said to Boy #3.

Yeah, it was third base when the boys used to play there.

Okay so the guy has his car parked on the side of the road causing traffic to slow, the neighborhood dogs and ours are barking, it's daylight and this guy decides that after he leaf buries the dead squirrel he needs to squat down to a puddle of muddy water and wash his hands.

"See this is why I carry the little bottle of cucumber/melon anti-bacterial hand sanitizer gel in my purse that you guys say stinks. I'll bet he wishes he had some of that now. You know to remove the smell of death from his hands."

It isn't like no one has never seen a dead squirrel in the road, it's a common occurrence. I guess this guy was trying to do the right thing? No? Or he's just bat crap crazy. Nevertheless I need to thank him for bringing kookamonga right outside my front window, I barely had to move to write this post.

Guest Blogger?

Farvel Cargo is looking for Guest Bloggers. I am having a hard time keeping up with my 2 blogs Farvel Cargo and View of Sue plus blogging for Skirt magazine. Along with trying to write a book and short stories seeking publishing. GAH!
So specifically I would like to open my blog up to new bloggers. If perhaps you've thought of starting a blog and are hesitant you can post here. Or if you just have a humorous story you would like to share.
All I ask:
- The post needs to be humorous, because this is a humor blog.
- You need to be on FaceBook, because once submitted on my blog it is immediately posted on my Wall via Network blogs.
- Once the post is on my Wall, "share it". Yes, all your friends will see it and I will get traffic to my blog.

Private message me on FaceBook or leave a comment here on this post if you are interested. This could be fun!