Tuesday, March 27, 2007


I'm still here, alive and kicking but we're working a cold mill shut down and by the time I get home I'm too pooped to post.

For those of you who don't work in a mill, a cold shutdown is where there is no electricity, no water and no bathroom; so I'm wandering around in the dark with a flashlight and waiting until I can't wait anymore before venturing into the dreaded port-a-potty. You ain't lived until you share a urine soaked upright coffin with several thousand construction workers. There's nothing like trying to get your pants down in a 4 foot square space while trying not to drop your hard-hat, radio or tools down the hole into the blue lagoon below.

When it's all over and done I'll do a proper post. I might get a day off a week from Friday................

Sunday, March 25, 2007


These are some of the wonderful pet emails my friends and family have sent to me.

"Excerpts from a Dog's Diary"

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

"Excerpts from a Cat's Diary"

Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.

In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...


Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another?
Dear God: When we go to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?
Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We dogs love a nice ride!! Would it be so hard to rename the "Chrysler Eagle" the "Chrysler Beagle"?
Dear God: If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad dog?
Dear God: We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?
Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please.
Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?
Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember, to be a good dog.

1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.
2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc. just because I like the way they smell.
3. I will not munch on "leftovers" in the kitty litter box,although they are
4. The diaper pail is not a cookie jar.
5. The sofa is not a 'face towel'. Neither are Mom and Dad's laps.
6. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.
7. My head does not belong in the refrigerator.
8. I will not bite the officer’s hand when he reaches in for Mom's driver's license and registration.
9. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.
10. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying
11. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table.
12. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house –
not after.
13. I will not throw up in the car.
14. I will not come in from the outside and immediately drag my butt.
15. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch when we have company.
16. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and makes that
noise, it's usually not a good thing.

And, finally, my last question...
Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?

Monday, March 19, 2007


I’ve always envied those artsy-crafty sort of talented folks. You know the ones; people who have an inner vision that translates everyday objects into works of art that please the eye and soothes the soul with beauty. My sisters Donna and Teresa are such individuals.

Donna paints wonderful landscapes, carves miniature cabins (sometimes entire villages) out of found limbs & wood chips and made all the decorations for her daughter’s wedding out of cast-off wicker baskets and dollar store finds gussied up to rival anything you could find in those high $$$ stores. Teresa does the same kinda home-made magic with garden art made from flea market treasures and old furniture reborn after she does her thing with some discount paint and fabric. Both can also take a bit of cloth and sew up everything from new curtains to Halloween costumes without a pattern. In fact almost every member of my family is crafty in one fashion or another.

{{{Sigh}}} Me, I don’t have that inner eye; I’m more mechanically inclined. I look at those cute garden sculptures (like the rooster with a yard rake for a tail) made out of nuts and bolts & cast-off sheet metal and think “I can do that!” But........ No matter how long I ponder or how much I move various bits around, I can’t look at a pile of raw materials and see how to cobble together something new and wonderful. I can copy anything or follow instructions as well as anyone alive. I have the skills; I can weld, sew, carpenter and fabricate with the best of ‘em. I just lack the imagination to come up with an original design, dang it all.

Now in the kitchen I can concoct wonderful dishes out of almost nothing. I slice and dice with the best, almost never follow a recipe and usually get raves from anyone sitting at my table even if they don't know for sure what the hell it is that they're eating. I can take various types of machinery apart and put it back together with a minimum of spare parts left over. I can paint houses, install minor electrical items, operate anything with 4 wheels, am an old pro at using power tools (I even own quite a few!) design landscapes and run a power plant control room but......... I lack that wonderful talent for developing splendor out of nothing.

I guess all of us can’t be artists; someone has to do the drudge work of keeping everything running while the gifted ones give us something to look forward to at the end of the day. I just wish I had been born with a smidgen of some kind of artistic ability. I would love to be able sing on key, to paint something that doesn't look like a 1st grader did it with finger paints, to draw more than a straight line (and only then by using a ruler), to have the ability to take scrap parts and construct something that makes bystanders go “AH!” but it’ll never happen.

At least I was born with the talent to recognize the beauty that others create. Without bragging, I do have an ear for good music and a discerning eye for art. I have my parents (especially Mom) to thank for my good taste. That puts me miles above some others that I’ll not name, who wouldn’t recognize beauty if it bit them on the butt and have no idea that Elvis painted on black velvet does not qualify as fine art.

What about you? What talents can you claim as your very own?

Sunday, March 18, 2007


Well, Bless my little old Southern Belle heart, I've been named for a blog award! Cyber Outlaw has kindly nominated me for a blogging award/meme thingy doo-hickey called the Thinking Blogger Award! I'd kiss him right smack on the lips if he was in the room with me now, but instead I'll just have to play along and hope he knows how much I appreciate the favor. Cyber, honey, you've made my day!

Now my turn to bestow this award onto other deserving bloggers! First here are the rules:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make
you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote, here is a silver version and a gold version .

HERE'S MY FIVE NOMINEES (in no particular order):

1. Life Droppings. I hope y'all don't think this is nepotism because it ain't. My sister Donna writes some of the funniest true-life stories that you'll ever read. I swear, she'll make you pee your panties with some of the stuff she comes up with. True, she hasn't written much in a while because she's had a bad patch of luck, but all you have to do is go and read To Boob or Not to Boob, The Missing Doll Pecker or A City Slicker Goes Frog Gigging (this is one of my favorites!) to see what a wonderful writer she is when life is a little less hectic. Hopefully, this award will spur her into writing again.

2. I Wasn't Always Like This. Kimmie's warped sense of humor and her off-the-wall posts will make you spew soda out your nose as she writes about the adventures of a family with 10 kids, her hubby Jeff and her one-of-a-kind Dad. I promise that you'll stay to read her archives. She's always good for a giggle and some of her posts will make you go "HMMM".

3. The Pissed Kitty Cometh. Pisser is an animal loving Texan transplanted to sunny California. Her take on the movie industry, dealing with street people sleeping (or worse) in her doorway and trying to live a normal life among "the beautiful people" is a hoot.

4. My Blonde Moment. Hannah is a young British lass who lives with her best mate and a male flat mate in Blonde Towers and is dating a Minor Celebrity. Ah, to be young again! All the angst and none of the mess. I have to admit I mostly lurk at her site but I do so enjoy getting those voyeuristic thrills!

5. Lolly Gaggin. Pam bills herself as "a jack of all trades and mistress of none. Old enough to know better, but still young enough to wanna try everything at least once. Except skydiving". She and Ziggy prove that you're never too old to be in love, that sex gets even hotter with age and women do indeed get better with time. A woman of wit and wisdom, her blog is addicting and I try to visit as often as I can.

There you go folks, 5 nominees. I recommend that you check out all the folks on my blogroll, but these will do for a start. Enjoy.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007


Yes children, I'm still here. I bet with my lack of recent posts you wondered if I had suffered from Blogger death. What with long work hours (and no Internet while I'm slaving away in the land of paper mills) and all the ho-hum housework after I stagger home I haven't even checked my email in a while. Real life sucks sometimes.

Here in sunny 'Bama spring has sprung, the temps are in the 70s and yard work is calling my name. Today the grandmonster and I have cleaned up the lawn, creating a massive brush pile of fallen limbs in the process. I still have one limb that's too big to move, time to break out the chainsaw (the sucker is so big I can't even drag it with the riding mower!). I've even planted a sycamore tree on my new property, well Sweet Thang did the digging and sister Donna was in charge of making sure I got it standing straight.

We also have 3 new puppies running around, dang I'm dog-poor! The babies are all black with white markings and cute as heck. I can't get my hands on them to see if they're hes or shes yet but it won't be long before they're underfoot and I'll probably trip over one of them and break my leg or something.

Donna's had a hard time of it lately, shortly after her daughter Wendi's wedding Donna's husband (who already has had 2 stints placed in the past) had another episode with his heart. This time it was a blood clot in the bottom of his heart and chronic heart disease. Luckily they could do drug therapy and didn't have to slice and dice him. The docs say he can live a long and productive life if he takes care of himself, but we all know that he's never gonna quit smoking or eating anything that he wants.

I guess that's it for now. Maybe I'll have something more entertaining to tell before long.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007


I guess it had to happen; they’ve cut off all internet access at the mill. OK, I exaggerate. You CAN get on the net after you close down your computer and log back on with your personal name and password. That way the powers-that-be at the home office in Memphis can tell that exactly who you are, precisely what non-work-related sites you visit and how long you stay on line. Plus when you’re online you can’t see any of the stuff that you need to do your job.

So now not only am I trapped sitting on my butt for 12 hours with no breaks or an opportunity to get up and stretch, I don’t have the ability to flex my poor work-addled brain or distress even a little. You can really tell that they worry about our mental and physical health, can’t you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t spend 80% of my waking hours on the job. It’s tough enough that we don’t have time for family and friends, now we can’t even read the paper or check the weather. What little off-time I have seems to be taken up by house work, bill paying and sleep.

Too bad I have to work for a living, I’m too old to find a Sugar Daddy and too young (and not rich enough) to retire. If ya’ll don’t hear from me for a while, you know where I’ll be.

EXTRA: Here's a picture of Donna's daughter, Wendi, from her wedding last Saturday. Ain't she pretty!

Monday, March 05, 2007


I’ve decided that I’ll probably live.

For awhile I had my doubts. Anytime someone’s breathing sounds like a rusty hacksaw trying to slice through cast iron there’s something seriously wrong, and that bad metaphor describes me trying to suck some O2 into my poor aching body for the last couple of weeks. My carp-like gasping for air would have made a great sound track for a horror movie; I could have sound-dubbed for a monster lurking in the dark or an obscene phone caller.

I spent the entire weekend rolled up in a quilt and napping. I think the only time I got up was to go to the bathroom, to hunt for more tissue, to swallow more drugs, to refill a never ending glass of green tea and to attend my niece’s wedding.

The wedding was the typical mad rush; complete with pre-wedding jitters and a comedy of errors.

First, almost everyone was late getting to the church. That morning the bride-to-be, at her grandmother’s rural home and already dressed in her wedding gown, locked her keys in her car WITH THE MOTOR RUNNING. They had to call a locksmith from town to come and get the door open; then poor Wendi drove, quote “900 MPH”, to the church. I wish I could remember how she told the story; the way she described her skirts bellowing up over her head and how she was driving with one had on the wheel and the other one holding her dress down was hilarious. Several people saw her but their description was “A red streak flying down the road with a bunch of white material blocking the window.”

Then the flowers weren’t what Wendi ordered, the cake wasn’t cooperating at all, several family members didn’t get to see the ceremony because they were still prepping for the reception and the in-laws-to-be made several rude and crude remarks about how their son was “marrying down” but it all worked out.

Wendi was a beautiful, glowing bride; she and Scott had a wonderful ceremony that went off without a hitch. The reception was great with a big crowd and lots of tasty food (including the lop-sided cake, several folks thought it was supposed to be one of those modern designs!).

I spent most of the wedding fending of relatives. As soon as they’d move in for a hug I’d do the hands-up fending-off motion, explaining that I was sick and didn’t want to contaminate anyone else (which also got me out of kitchen duty). I left right after the reception started to go back home and curl up with my quilt and tissues again but from all reports everything else went well.

Although not completely well, this morning I feel 100% better than I did. I’m sorry I didn’t post any over the weekend. Hell I did good to watch TV and the only time I set foot out of the house was to go to the wedding, but I believe I’m on the mend now and hopefully I’ll soon be back to my ranting raving blogging ways. Did ya’ll miss me?

Friday, March 02, 2007


I have to thank my buddy Carol for this one, I almost choked on my Diet Dew reading it.

If you don't laugh out loud after you read this you are in a coma! This is even funnier when you realize it's real! Next time you have a bad day at work , think of this guy. Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft.Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.

Needless to say, she won.

Hi Sue, just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I Would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all.

Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool, so what we do to keep warm is this: we have a diesel-powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.

Everything was going well, until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds, my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony, I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish
couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt.

I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say, I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression.

When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut.

So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt. Now repeat to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job." Now whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself: Is this a jellyfish bad day?

May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day!!!!!

Thursday, March 01, 2007


WARNING: I've got my knickers in a wad and Dubya has pissed me off again!

Soon after taking office, President Bush established the White House Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives, and faith-based offices in departments like Justice and Education. They were intended to increase the federal grant money going to religious organizations, and they seem to have been highly effective. It worked! Figures show that from 2003 to 2005, the number of federal grants to religious groups increased 38 percent. In other words, there wasn't more federal money given out, the beneficiaries just got narrowed down to religious organizations of Bush's choice. If you don't go to the right Church, you don't get a grant even if you save abandoned babies or feed the homeless. Nope, sorry, those dollars are going to our homeboys who vote for us and meet us for Sunday worship.

The Freedom From Religion Foundation and several of its members sued. They say that because the faith-based initiatives favor religious applicants for grants over secular applicants, they violate the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment, which prohibits government support for religion. Now Bush and his cronies are trying to make it illegal for anyone to nay say anything the president does because as U.S. Solicitor General Paul Clement said
taxpayers who believe the White House is unconstitutionally promoting religion should not be accorded legal standing to sue in court. It would be too "intrusive on the executive branch" to permit lawsuits contesting the way the president and his advisers conduct their affairs"
Yeah, the government has all the rights and we have none. Excuse me, Mr. Bush Sir, didn't mean to intrude on you while you spend MY MONEY on something I don't approve of or believe in. And just when exactly did we become a dictatorship and not an at least semi-free country? Was there a memo that I missed or something? I know I'm old but back when I went to school and they taught us government we learned about the Constitution and the Bill of Rights and it was made plain that BOTH WERE LAW TO BE OBEYED BY EVERYONE INCLUDING THE PRESIDENT AND HIS HENCHMEN.

In fact, one of the main purposes for both was to limit the ability of our government to run rough shod over us poor peons. So much for separation of Church & State or any real freedom. First our tax dollars are supporting religion, not necessarily the religion of your choice and doing it in a public forum in blatant disregard of our Constitution. Next you'll have Dubya and the Right Wing Nazis pounding ou your door at 2 AM and dragging you out on the street.

In the United States, the structure and wording of the First Amendment with both the Establishment Clause and the Free Exercise Clause, demonstrates that our forefathers were smart enough to know that Religion is power, Government is power and the two combined would result in absolute power. And as everyone well knows:


In a letter written by Thomas Jefferson to a group identifying themselves as the Danbury Baptists Jefferson, quoting the First Amendment of the United States Constitution, writes: "I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, thus building a wall of separation between Church and State".

If Jefferson isn't a good enough source for Bush then there is James Madison, the principal drafter of the United States Bill of Rights, who wrote "Strongly guarded . . . is the separation between religion and government in the Constitution of the United States," and he declared, "practical distinction between Religion and Civil Government is essential to the purity of both, and as guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States"

{{{insert sarcastic tone-of-voice here}}} Of course what did Madison and Jefferson and all the rest of those old guys know? Dubya is driving now and if you don't like it you can lump it. How the hell did we ever get into this bad a shape as a country?

In the immortal words of Bette Davis "Fasten your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy night" and I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel until/unless we get someone with some common sense and a much smaller ego than Duba in the White House.