Shit that happens in front of my house. The telephone pole.

I have decided to start a new series on my blog. Since loosing the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude, which I don't think I will ever get over, I feel my blog is lacking content. And the Russians have been quiet, maybe too quiet.

So let's go way back for my first entry in "Shit that happens in front of my house."
There was a time back in the day when the husband and I had only one kid, Boy #1 and we thought we were busy having a two year old. So after a day of chasing him around the house, we still don't know how he avoided having his chest of drawers smash down on him when he pulled the drawers out and made steps to climb to the top. But there he stood in the middle of his room with the entire piece of furniture toppled over. When he wasn't climbing things he was sticking whatever would fit into the VCR.
But that particular night we got him to bed and settled into our recliners for a quiet night and to watch a little TV. After about an hour we heard a big thud and crunch. Both of our heads snapped up. We looked at each other perplex. The husband was closest to the door. He jumped up and looked outside.
"Call the police."
"Wha..."
"Call an ambulance."
He was out the door before I could get anymore information. I would have liked more information, as I was about to make an emergency call and had no idea why. But I dialed,
"911 what's your emergency?"
"Uh, my husband and I just heard a loud bang in front of our house and he told me to call the police and an ambulance."
"Is someone injured ma'am?"
It was the 80's, I was tethered to a telephone cord. I had no idea what was going on.
"I don't know I can't see what's going on, I'm going by what my husband is yelling at me."
"Okay we'll send someone out."
"Thank you."
I hung up the phone and ran to the door. There I saw a car with it's front end wrapped around the telephone in our front yard. I also saw the husband, several neighbors, one of them an off duty cop. They were talking to a teenage girl. She was standing so I figured we might not need an ambulance. Then I saw the husband point to me at my front door. The girl walked my way and asked,
"Can I use your phone?"
Wide eyed and in awe I said,
"Sure."
I eaves dropped, off course. She was calling her dad. She got off the phone.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, but I wrecked my dads car."
And she went back outside. 10 minutes later I had a man at my front door asking to use my phone. It was the dad and he was calling a tow truck. He was frazzled.
"Is everything alright?"
"Sure, she's fine the car isn't. My son just totaled my wife's car last week. He's fine, the car isn't. Teenagers. What are you going to do?"
He thanked me and left.
I decided to remain in the house,
1. because I was in my pajamas and
B. because I had a two year old that was amazingly still sleeping.
I waited for the husband to come back and fill me in on what I missed. He walked in the house shaking his head.
"What?" I asked.
"The cop two houses down got there right after me."
"Yeah?"
"We got her out of the car and she was fine. Asked her what happened and she told us she dropped her cigarette and was trying to find it when she ran into the pole."
Then he started to laugh,
"She says to me and the guy she didn't know was a cop not to tell the police that when they get here. She said she was going to tell them she miss judged the car parked on the street and swerved around it hitting the telephone pole. You should have saw her face when she found out George was a cop."

I thought we had this Dry Cleaning drama under control

Everything was going fine. I was making quite a bit of progress getting over the loss of The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude blog fodder. My new dry cleaner, boring but competent, was just another errand. They gave me nothing to work with writing wise but when you have WalMart a bloggers life is somewhat complete anyway. So I dropped the husbands shirts off on Friday and picked up his shirts from the Friday before without incident. 

I have been picking up and dropping off shirts for years and years. One thing that has never happened is a dry cleaner telling me that the heat from the shirt press can make a shirt spontaneously com-bust because it's old. I may have been born at night but not last night. This isn't an old shirt, not new but definitely not old. My dry cleaner, see I don't even have a blog name for her, told me she'd patch it for me. I'll let that sink in.....patch it.

Okay, I do not intend to send the husband off to work looking like a hobo. I mentioned to her that in all my years of getting shirts cleaned I have never seen anything like this and she assured me that it happens all the time. Really? Huh. We had a five minute discussion over this problem, actually I dragged it out to she if she was going to charge me for the shirt she blew up. She did. I left my last set of shirts with her today and now I have to look for another damn dry cleaner. One that doesn't go on vacation to China and never come back, one that doesn't loose shirts and one that doesn't blow them up.

Lesson of the day - never get to comfortable.

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.

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.

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.

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.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files, #7857-X3A

Good News, they are alive and well, vacationing in China, their home land. That's right I found out their ethnicity, Chinese. Shooting my Vietnamese Prison Guard in a Chuck Norris movie theory all to hell. I picked mother up for a day at the mall, she had Macy's gift cards burning a hole in her pocket. When we got in the car I told her we had to stop at the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes. She was excited about this because it meant I would blog about him instead of her. Because shopping with mother is a trip. She knows my weaknesses and pounces on them.

So I looked at her and said,

"This doesn't mean you can spray me with 5 different samples of perfume. And limit yourself to one maybe two if you want a ride home."

"What about lotion?"

"That all depends on how much you want my head to hurt and if you want me to start Nursing Home shopping."

Once in the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes parking lot I said,

"This guy hasn't been here in over a month, I don't know what's going on in there."

"Ask them where he is."

"I don't think they understand me."

I went in with my 4 shirt and $7 ah 20. Just as I suspected, strangers. I decided to try to break the language barrier and communicate.

"Are you under new management?"

And surprisingly the Chinese woman strung along a series of comprehendable sentences,

"No, uncle and auntie are vacationing in China to see their new grandchild. Be back in 2 month. That's seven dollars and twenty-five cents please."

Get right on out of here, not only did I find out they're Chinese, but they are old enough to have grandkids and my 4 shirt went up 5 cents.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files #6,152

I don't know where the hell he is, I don't know. The last two times I've stopped in for the husbands 4 shirt Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude hasn't been there and to make things worse she hasn't either. There have been different Asians in there each time. I blame the husband. He's decided to go with polo shirts this summer and I don't think he's going to make the transition back to dress shirts for the winter. He seems quite comfortable. So he's wearing a dress shirt once, maybe twice a week. Cutting down my visits to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes to barely two times a month.
With the huge language barrier I can't ask the "other Asians" WTF? Where are .......? I don't know their names. It's a dilemma, a worrisome dilemma. This could be the final chapter in the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files. They are a constant source of blog fodder. I can walk into that Dry Cleaning establishment and walk out with an instant post. If my beloved, nameless dry cleaners are gone for good these new people better have something weird going on.

Please wait. Be back in 2 minute.

Would it be writing genius of me to combine a McDonald's post and a Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude post together or just all together crazy? Can it be done? Sure it can. Will it be good? I don't know.
So when last we spoke I told you the story, in 300 words or less, of my Egg McMuffin Friday. Being limited to 300 words or less because it was my assignment some things were left out of that morning. Some things that were probably best left unsaid, especially with it being my my first assignment and all. I used the word pee twice, had to change damn to darn and hell was in there too, I didn't need to bring up my bra strap like I'm going to now. Don't worry Erv, it won't be that bad, the entire post is not about your sisters bra.
On my way to McDonald's, remember scarf wrapped around my neck 27 times, big leather coat and gloves, I felt my bra strap slide down my shoulder. This was shortly after I left the house and I knew it would have to stay there, uncomfortably on my shoulder until I got to work. It was unsettling because there was no way to get to it. I began to wonder,
"Which bra did I put on this morning?" I keep the uncomfortable ones in the back of the drawer.
"Maybe one of my 'good' bra's has crossed over to 'uncomfortable' I hate when that happens."
I continued on my way to my glorious breakfast with my bra strap askew, glancing at my passengers side where the husband shirts lay in a heap waiting to be taken to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes. That is my after work errand, there's a better chance of seeing him in the evening and what better way to start off the weekend than with an encounter with Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes grin like a prison guard in a Chuck Norris movie? My Friday dragged on like most Friday's do and at 4:30 I made my escape. Checking to make sure the bra was is place before donning my winter wear.
"I have to check that bra when I get home." I made a mental note.
I arrive at my most favorite place in the world as a blogger, grabbed the husbands shirts and marched in. Huh, where is everyone? And when I say everyone, it's where are the two of them?
Oh, look there's a note being held down with a stapler right next to the cash register. "Please wait. Be back in 2 minute."
The angel on my right shoulder said, "You should stay and watch that cash register for dweedle dee and dweedle dum, it's only 2 minute." I waited. I waited longer than 2 minute when the devil on my left shoulder said, "Isn't it about time to go home and start your weekend? Seriously, I'm sure they have the cash register locked and who is going to mess with the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude, would you?"
The little devil with the pitch fork had a point. Although he's probably the one that slid my bra strap down my shoulder this morning.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files, #1675 section B

Friday, November 26, 2010:

"I'm out of shiiiiirrrrts!" the husband exclaimed.

Eff

"There are none in the closet."

"I'll run to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaners and get your shirts."

"Have you seen your hair?"

I was willing to run to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaners after just emerging from the shower, that's how much I love him.

"Okay, don't panic, we still have time. I'll run this shirt through a rinse cycle with fabric softener, throw it in the dryer and iron it. No problem."

I was just that simple and off to work he went.

I dried my hair, slapped some make-up on my face and drove to my constant source of blogging fodder.

The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude reminds me of a Vietnam prison guard in a Chuck Norris movie, that's where he got his nickname. He has a Vietnam prison guard in a Chuck Norris movie grin, it's unsettling. I didn't see him when I walked in, that meant he was lurking in the back of the store with those hot shirt presses. Shivers went up my spine. She was there. Always smiling. Our conversations are kept to a minimum.

"Hello."

"Hi." Sometime I say Hi and sometimes Hello, I try to mix it up a bit, this time I said Hi.

"Four more shirt?"

"Yes."

"Seven ah twenty. Have nice day."

"Thank you."

And that's it, week after week. I'm sure she has a larger English vocabulary, but I haven't delved into it. I don't want to be misunderstood, what with the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude lurking in the back and all.

You can imagine my surprise when she asked if I had a nice Thanksgiving. I was dumb-struck. Holy Crap what do I say?

"It was good, how about yours?" Right then I realized, Asian - Thanksgiving, I don't think so, whoops.

She responded, "We ah went Casino."

See, yet another reason Ohio needs Casino's. We have to keep those senior citizens and their social security checks here. And we have to keep the dry cleaners from crossing state lines with there hard earned American dollah.

A new encounter with the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude

Boy did the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and I go way off our weekly routine, holy crap. First of all I'm hurt, he forgot my name, he forgot our special little, unspoken bond we had. How can this happen? I'm there every week. To make matters worse, we had to communicate with one another. This never goes well.
With his Vietnam prison camp guard in a Chuck Norris movie grin, he said, "Nine dollah."
I already had my seven ah twenty on the counter in exact change, they like exact change there, in fact they almost take it out of my wallet. They like singles. Perhaps they like to avoid the bank, communication problem going on there too maybe hmmmm?
"Huh, nine dollars?" I'm so finding a new dry cleaner pal, I'm not scared of you.
"You drop off 5 shirt, not 4. Nine dollah." He showed me the receipt where they wrote 4 and then added a +1, didn't refer to the shirts hanging next to me but the doctored receipt, like a paper trail will convince me the error of my ways. I glanced at the shirts and he proceeded to count them out for me, still with the Vietnam prison camp guard in a Chuck Norris movie grin.
I wasn't 100% sure they were all the husbands shirts but was not going to check them in front of the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude. Coming off a week of vacation and getting back to work, I was slammed with piles of stuff to do on my desk, interrupted more times that I can count so next week will be a repeat of this week, my eggs hurts, I was starving and I didn't want him to get his numb-chucks out and beat me senseless. I am scared of him. I gave him a ten so he had to cough up one of his precious singles and I left.
They are all the husbands shirts or we inherited a new one, not sure.
And yes, I said my eggs hurt.

Send me sedatives

I white hot hate, with the intensity of a thousand suns, teaching a teenager to drive. Boy #3, who is now 18, is just learning to drive. This is because I kept grounding him from driving to put off my 19th nervous break-down. But now we're kind of tired of driving him around. Send me sedatives, the instructions have begun. I spent the entire day having "my driver" as I started to call him, driving me from errand to errand.
We bought him pants, stopped at the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes, got me a mocha, headed off to the WalMarts (I go there once a week to make myself feel smart) it's easy all you have to do is walk in the entrance and walk out the exit, the rest of them can't do it. Really I should get a video of that one day, just prop up a lawn chair and watch the confusion as they try to decide which door to use.
By now I've had enough of the passing of my driving wisdom on to another teenager but he wants to go to the video store.
"The one with the weird parking lot." I ask, "I have trouble in that one and I'm an excellent driver. Police pull me over to tell me what a great job I'm doing on the road."
"I plan to pull into McDonalds next to it."
"This is the last stop. Next to the last stop we still have to get the new propane tank."
We're going on three hours of me pressing an imaginary break and a death grip on the door handle. It's time to go home or time to ground him again, I'm not sure.

New Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Blog Fodder

And there you have it, stop at the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes to pick up the husbands shirts and a post for your blog writes itself. I should go there every day. The previous owner was in the back and and saw me, "Hey, I remember you! How are they treating you here?" With the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude lurking near the big, giant, hot shirt press I answered, "They're treating me great."
Seriously, what else was I going to say?"
Back in the day when the ownership transition was made, I could have left for a dry cleaner that understood English, I didn't have a blog then so I didn't need them like I do now. But I decided to give the guy that looks like the Vietnam prison camp guard in a Chuck Norris movie a chance. It's proven to have been a good move. He still doesn't understand me but he can almost spell my whole last name. I walk in the door and he says, with his Vietnam prison camp guard in a Chuck Norris movie grin, "S..... E..... E....." I usually have nothing to say to that so I just smile at him like it's our little joke.
Seriously, what else can I do?
The previous owner said, "It's good to see you again."
The Asian woman said, "Have nice day."
The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude said nothing.
I left hearing the words from the previous owner commenting on me being an old customer and complimenting the none English speaking couple on keeping me.
I really hoped, as I got in my car that the Asians could differentiate the fact that I was an old customer, not an old customer.