But.......IT AIN'T A TRUCK!

I'm a Truck Chick.       I love pickup trucks.      I don't know diddly about 'em, I just like 'em!
I like to sit on a tailgate and talk to friends.    Tailgates make great seats, dining tables, counters, and work benches.

I LOVE bouncin' down dirt roads and firebreaks.   Daylight or dark, it doesn't matter.    Taking the truck thru the river swamp was some of the best fun I've had.

When I had the Ranger I could actually drive over railroad tracks, sidewalks, and that silly "barricade" (pfffttt!!!) at the post office without a second thought.   
     Puddles or debris?    No real problem.    I could skate over roadkill and never touch it.

I used my truck to haul everything from trash to band equipment.     Sometimes those two things are one and the same.....depending on how long you've been married to a musician.

If it's scratched and dented, well, I'm good with it because when I put another scratch or dent in it, and I will, who gives a damn?

So, the GMC gave it up, and T-Bird gave up riding his motorcycle in freezing weather.     Too Old For The Cold.

That meant we needed to come up with another ride.    I, of course, put in for another truck.      With great enthusiasm, I might add.........

I wanted THIS:

I would have settled for THIS:

THIS is what I ended up with:

Dear Heart, do you see the problem here?

IT AIN'T NO PICKUP TRUUUUUUCK!      I HAVE BEEN DEMOTED!    THE SHAME OF IT ALL!     IT'S A COOKIE-CUUUUUTTERRRRRRRR!     

*whine/off*

When we went to our buddy Hammer's house to get the thing T-Bird said:    "I told you it was rough."

He wasn't Whistlin' Dixie.     Damn....what a P.O.S..

My least favorite color combo---white and rust.     Dented from one end to the other.    Scratched.    Scuffed.    The interior sucks.    Really, kids, if you smoke weed, take the seeds out before you roll or you burn the upholstry in a way that is obvious as Hell when the seed pops.     It's PotHead 101.

The glass was all there, the tires were round, the brakes and starter were new.     Stop and Start.    That's all I really need.

I had to ask if the antennae was standard on that particular model and was gruffly informed that no, it was not.

"Some sumbitch broke off the antennae in a parking lot in Atlanta and I just stuck that on there; that's a piece off of my old t.v. antennae."

In all fairness I must say that the radio plays just fine through the one remaining speaker, and it's welcome to munch on the practice c.d. that T-Bird stuck in there just to find out that the c.d. player does NOT work. 

I asked what in the world happened to the trunk lid?!?

"Tree limb fell on it, but you can still open it."    

I hoped I could, because Hammer wasn't having any luck opening Pandora's Box with the key and of course, the button-thingy inside the car no longer works.    When it finally popped open it revealed a set of jumper cables, homemade lug wrench, spare tire, and trash.    And almost an entire case of water.

"I used to have to pour water in it all the damn time but I fixed that shit."

"It runs great!    Fire that bitch up!"     T-Bird turned the key, the motor turned over, and filled the yard with smoke.      Lots and lots and lots of smoke.

Hubs cocks an eye at Hammer, and the explanation began.

"The thing was on empty and there wasn't enough gas to get to the gas station, so I thought, DAMN, I better put some in it since y'all was comin' out.     That's some year-old chainsaw gas I had in the barn!"

Chain saw gas:    Car gas with two-cycle oil added.    It's for, get this..........CHAIN SAWS.

He handed us nine keys, engine keys and trunk keys, and  the paperwork was signed.

"It'll haul ass when you get it on the road but it hitches to the right when it changes gears."

Got it.     If Hammer owned it, it has two speeds:    Dead Cold in the yard, or Full Throttle All You Can Stand Balls To The Wall YEEEE-HAAAAAAAH.     Those are the only two speeds Hammer has so it would seem to follow that that's all the car ever knew.

I turned out of the driveway and put my foot on the pedal.

It was like kicking a jackrabbit in the ass!     GONE!      OUTTA HERE!

It sits so low that I could almost feel the asphalt scrubbin' my backside and when I ran over a stick in the road I thought it had lodged there.   

"Hitches to the right" my Aunt Fannie!    It LEAPS to the right.

I damn near died when the engine light came on.    But I gotta tell ya, it figures.     I was royally pissed off at Hubs and Hammer when it shut off at the gas pump, right by it's self.    IT DIED.

We put gas in it and the thing cranked right up, check engine light and all.     T-Bird told me to drive it to the house and I did.

I lost him twice and he couldn't keep up.    I got cussed at when he pulled into the driveway.

The engine light went out after I ran by-golly gas through it, and thankfully, it's decent on gas.     I'd be scared to hit anything bigger than a pinecone, and puddles are out of the question.

While it still ain't a truck it did outrun T-Bird's Ranger, and I like that!

I think I'll start puttin' in for a camo paint job and seat covers.

Grandma Goofed Up

I'll cop to the fact that I am NOT the greatest Grandmother there ever was.
     I goof up around the grand kids from time to time but so far, nothing really, really horrible.

Mostly, they just have to un-teach a bad word now and then.

Youngest and my grand daughter, Tater, went with me to Wally World.    While we were there I decided to buy a cat toy for Mullet The Minion.

I found a Nervous Tick.    There is a pull ring in the rear of the toy and you pull the string, set it on the floor, turn loose of the ring, and the tick scurries across the floor for about a foot and a half.     It vibrates and hums like crazy.

I thought Mullet might like it but little Tater thought that was The Greatest Toy In The World.      She pulled the string so much and played with it to the point that I believed I would be paying for a cat toy my grandbaby WORE OUT before I could get the thing to the checkout. 

  And yeah, if we break it, we buy it.

She wasn't real happy that Grandma bought Mullet a toy, and not her, because Mullet is the meanest cat in this world and she terrifies ALL of the grandkids.

Two weeks before, I popped for a play castle for Tater, complete with prince, princess, and a horse-drawn coach for her birthday.     I gave her a fantasy toy, and gave the cat a parasite.

Four year olds just don't understand.    

When I got home I took the tick off the card and pulled the string.     It scittered across the floor.

The cat backed away from it.

She watched it "run" a time or two, but all she'd do was pop it with her paw and back away.     It's clear this toy will sit untouched in Mullets' toy box.

It wasn't expensive; it costs just a couple of bucks.        I could still give it to Tater because it was still clean and the kid LOVED it.

Later that night Mullet was stretched out on the bed with me and Hubs.   I had an idea............

I pulled the ring, held the string close to the body of the tick, laid it on the cats' side, and turned the string loose.      It vibrated across her ribs and ran up her body like A Thing Possessed.

Mullet The Minion evaporated.      *POOF*       It scared the Beejeegers out of her.

I gave it to Tater---she wanted it so the three or four bucks wasn't wasted--- and this is where I accidentally messed up.

Tater has just turned four years old and has a small problem with speech.     She mixes her "D" sounds up with her "T" sounds.

She has told EVERYBODY about her new "dick" (insert speech problem here).      Told her mama she LOVED her new "little dick".     Told her daddy too.     And anybody within earshot, including a next-door neighbor.

Yes indeed............my cell phone blew up with "Do you know what YOUR grand daughter did????"       I get that a lot.

I lost several cell phone minutes apologizing between bursts of laughter.     If you laugh during your apology, the apology no longer counts as much.

Mullet got over the Tick Attack, but little Tater is going thru diction lessons because she starts school next term and her mother KNOWS she's gonna get called.

If they ever have a "GRANDMOTHER OF THE YEAR" award you can bet your boots that Slick won't come close to winning.

One From My Day

I was listening to The Steve Miller Band when a teenager asked me if that was a new country band.

I weep for this nation.

But, it's Saturday night and time to rock it out!

A Glitter Hater

Yesterday, on January the third, I found gold glitter on an envelope I was stamping.

Glitter.       Gold glitter.   

I hate glitter.     And by that, I mean I really, really, reallyreallyreally HATE glitter.

Glitter starts coming thru the office door a week or so before Christmas.    It is stuck to about half of the cards and gifts and goody bags that we are blessed with from patients and other offices that we work with.

It just doesn't STAY stuck on the gift/card/whatever.

Glitter travels.      And it will travel from one end of the office to the other, and it will be EVERYWHERE. 


Stuck in the carpet.    Stuck on lab jackets.   Clinging to paperwork and charts.   Countertops.     Patient chairs and BOTH restrooms.     And all of us who work there.   

If you hold your head at just the right angle and the light is right, the hallway looks like Dorothys' Yellow Brick Road.

Guess who cleans THAT up.

When the receptionist showed me Bossladys' Christmas card---encrusted with a fine, gold glitter---I had to admit that it was a beautiful card........with my hands clasped behind my back so that I didn't bitch-slap her out of her chair.

I tell ya, I can't catch a break.

We have a big table where we keep goodies and such and it was covered with presents and baked delights and candy from just after Thanksgiving until we closed for the holiday.

I cleaned the office On December 23rd when we shut down.   

All the good stuff had been cleaned out and the table was covered in crumbs, sprinkles, candy bits, chopped nuts,................and glitter.

That stuff was all over the place.

It looked like someone had beat the livin' crap out of Tinkerbell.

I swear I cleaned that building and every surface in it, but after a thorough vaccuming, there it was.....winking at me from the just-vacc'd carpet.    I threw up my hands and left.

Did I mention that I hate glitter?

I cleaned up more on December 29th.    I had hoped that it was all gone.   

It wasn't gone.    My nemesis, the receptionist, was gathering the Christmas cards on JANUARY THE SECOND and yes, there was more of the hated substance floating around her desk.

She is hereby found GUILTY of aiding and abetting.

I have cleaned that place TWICE but it's still there.

And it's mocking me.

There Went The Neighborhood

Well, The Big Party is over.      

The record for continual gunfire is still 22 minutes.   People just don't seem to be wasting ammo these days. 
 There was still quite a bit of gunfire and some of that was impressive.

We cannot sit in the yard on N.Y.E. because what goes up......will most assuredly COME DOWN.     My niece had a very close call three or four years ago.    She had been sitting on the hood of her car with friends in downtown Tifton.     She got off the hood and walked around for a minute.    Then she took a seat back on the hood about a foot from where she had been sitting before.

*THUNK*     

They found a .22 bullet stuck between the hood and the body of the car in the groove.    Right where she had been before.       It missed her and her friends by a scant few inches.

It's why we don't shoot anything up in the air.     You could kill someone blocks away and never know it.     We don't fire a round into the ground for fear of a ricocheting bullet.     Most people just don't think.

The fireworks show was somewhat funny.      They shot up three or four nice ones, and waited for a couple of minutes.
     The next time, they shot up a few, and waited.     I had the scanner on and knew why........

In the glow of Christmas lights turned on for The New Years' Eve Festivities, I could make out the lights on top of the squad car.     He turned at the corner and hauled ass down the street to the other side of The Hood.

BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.

Then silence.

Here comes the deputy back.     More silence.     He turns back down my street and he's off again.

He made it three blocks and the sky lit UP.    He circles around for another pass but it's as quiet as Church.   

They gave him five minutes to clear The Hood and set off The Grand Finale and I must say, The Powers That Be in this town could take lessons from my neighbor, whoever he is.      They need him for the next Fourth Of July throwdown.

Now, a while back I did a post about explosions that had been occuring here and there.      What New Years' Eve lacked in gunfire, it made up for in explosions.    Several of them were close to my house, and the sound would roll, almost like thunder rolls.     My boss had the same thing happening close to her neighborhood across town.

KNOCK IT OFF WITH THE DAMNED I.E.D.'S PEOPLE!!!!!   

Ya know, on second thought.........my husband has just come into possession of an electronic drum kit.   I have a guitar player who is gonna be learning how to play drums.     We will now become The Scourge Of The Neighborhood, and I get to listen to a beginner on a drum kit, up close and personal.

Save me an I.E.D..