NEW YEAR'S EVE POST

Wahoo! I actually got 24 hours off Sunday (worked off midnights at 6 AM and came back this morning at 6AM. Working is a bitch but it pays the bills). I went home, fell into bed with a puss cuddled on each side, took a nap until noon and then went to town with my buddy Carol.

Carol was on a mission, in search of the perfect curtains. We hit Target, Wal-Mart, TJ Maxx and K Mart. The perfect curtain had to be navy blue, room darkening, and kid proof; not too much to ask but it seems that solid color curtains aren’t in fashion. She finally bought some at Wal-Mart but they weren’t exactly what she wanted.

Along the way I wound up buying a new plaid trench coat for 50% off and several pieces of amber jewelry (I’ve got a thing for amber). I also got lucky and found some digital Christmas ornaments (you download pictures onto the permanent memory and they act like a digital picture frame hanging on your tree) for 75% off at Target. That’s a great deal, marked down to $7 from $29.99; I got one and Carol got the only other two left. The ornaments were hidden behind some other stuff; otherwise they would have been gone because all the after-Christmas stuff was really picked over.

While standing in the checkout line I always pass the wait by reading the magazine headlines. I pointed out one on Cosmo to Carol that said in big bold letters “DIRTY SEXY SEX” and remarked to her that although it’s been a while, the last I remembered, if sex isn’t sexy then you’re doing it wrong! After all our ramblings I got home around 8 PM, passed out on the couch until 10:30 and then went to bed and slept until the alarm went off this morning.

The weather man is predicting our first snow flurries in the morning, Alabama isn’t known for the white stuff so they're making a big deal out of it (any time the forecast is for snow or ice everyone here makes a run on the grocery store and buys out all the bread and milk, I have no idea why). Tomorrow night it’s supposed to get down to 18 degrees so I guess I’ll have to break out the long johns and heavy socks. I just hope the road doesn’t ice over because I drive up and down mountains on narrow 2 lane roads and we don’t get weather days at the paper mill. Gotta remember to get some more cedar shaving for the dogs house on the way home this afternoon, too. Nothing worse than frost-bitten pooches.

I hope all of you have a Happy New Year; I’ll be snug in bed long before midnight so if you celebrate, drink one for me.

HOLIDAY MOOD

Last night I got to watch my 8 year old grandson play basketball for the first time, this is his first year to play and I’m usually at work when he has a game. I’m proud to say he got two baskets, two rebounds and one stolen ball; not too shabby for someone who never played before (Yeah, Nana is bragging). Wish I had thought to bring a camera so I could bore y’all with grandmotherly type photos, maybe next time my mind won’t be blank and I’ll do better. He’s a head taller than all the other kids but so skinny that he has trouble keeping his pants up. Yep, I have a tow headed beanpole with big feet for a grandson, but dang he’s a pretty thang.

I’m finally getting into a holiday mood (bout time don’t ya think); there’s a turkey in the oven (who knew that it takes weeks to thaw one of those suckers out, after 5 days in the fridge it's innards were still frozen solid and I had to shove my hand up the turkey's butt and dig 'em out) and the car trunk is loaded with presents for our family get-to-gather tomorrow. I’ve been watching sappy holiday movies on Lifetime TV and humming Christmas carols all day. Lady Scrooge has left the building and Grandma Christmas has made her belated appearance.

I’ve had the hardest time putting myself in a holiday frame of mind: our parents’ wedding anniversary was Christmas day, Mom died just before the Christmas that would have been their 50th, and Dad passed 10 months later. Although we still have our family shindig at the home place, it’s just not the same. The house is packed with relatives; inlaws and outlaws and dozens of kids running around yelling and screaming, but there’s still an empty space that you can feel in your heart. It’s been several years since Mom and Dad left us, but I still expect to see them both when I walk in the door. They say that time heals all, but it’s going to be a long long time before the home place feels like Lana’s house and not my parents’.

Gotta go and check on the bird, nothing worse than a dried up old turkey, so Happy Holidays to everyone and I’ll be by to check on y’all soon.

SPECIAL REQUEST-WHITE TRASH CHRISTMAS

I found this video several years ago and when I posted the link it was a big hit. Everyone has asked me to to post the link again this year, so here it is. The video fairly long but sooo worth the wait! If you've got dial-up you might not be able to hear it, sorry.

You'll be singing the "White Trash Christmas" song yourself after watching this. And everytime you watch it you'll see some little detail that you missed the first time {watch for the hound that humps everything}. Please give it time to load and I promise you'll laugh yourself silly.

So without farther ado, I give you:

WHITE TRASH CHRISTMAS

ON THE FLOOR

Now I know I’m getting old.


After spending several hours in the floor surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, I found that I couldn’t just get up like I used to. Damned if I didn’t have to get on my hands and knees before I could struggle upright and on my feet! I go to the gym, I do setups and all that other crap, why the hell did my tired old bones lockup after hunkering down on the carpet? I was OK once I was standing, but gravity had me glued to the floor. It was like there was a big magnet sucking my fat ass downward every time I tried to stand up.

The cats seemed to get a kick out of it; they circled me meowing either encouragement or insults, I couldn’t tell which. I shoulda chunked them both up against the wall before I got up off the floor, just to teach them not to laugh at the person responsible for filling the food dish and emptying the litter box. Thank God no one else was around to witness my decent into feebleness or else I never would have heard the end of it (I know y’all won’t tell anyone!).

Guess I need to take up yoga or something to help on my flexibility. There aren’t any classes here in the boonies but I can get a CD and entertain the pussies some more. Thank goodness there aren’t anymore presents to wrap; I’m not sure I can go through anymore humiliation this week.

GODS IN ALABAMA

How could I pass up a book with the first line: "THERE ARE GODS in Alabama: Jack Daniel's, high school quarterbacks, trucks, big tits, and also Jesus". All true, although I think that "big tits" should count as Twin Goddesses.

When running through WalMart on the way to work, the title caught my eye (hello - I live in Alabama!) and then the first page grabbed me. The story might be crap (haven't read it yet) but I have high hopes. This isn't my usual type of reading material, so we'll just have to wait and see.

Now I gotta go and pretend to know what I'm doing here at the slave factory. A boiler has crashed, everybody and his brother are on site (ON A SUNDAY) and the place is a madhouse. Hopefully all the VIPs will go home soon so we can get things squared away and have a peaceful night.

Last week it was in the high 70's here; all the windows at home were open and you saw people out wearing shorts and tank tops. Tonight it's in the low 20s with a wicked wind that cuts right to the bone, no matter how warmly you're dressed. If there are "Gods In Alabama", the Weather God is either schizophrenic or bi-polar!

CLOSE CALL

I had a close call with The Grim Reaper today.

As I was exiting the post office my traffic light was green, but just as I entered the highway some ditzy blonde bitch in a green Ford pickup blew right through the red signal moving well above the speed limit, staring at me the whole time like “What the hell are you doing pulling out in front of me!”

I slammed on the brakes (never let anyone tell you that a front wheel drive car won’t leave black marks) slid sideways and slung all my junk that stays heaped in the backseat into the floorboard. The Ford Floozy just kept on keeping on, never once hitting her brakes or even slowing down. Thank Goodness I was only going about 3 MPH or else there would have been a mating of vehicles and not in a good way.

All I could do was sit there, half in the road and half in the parking lot, trying to get my heart out of my throat and my breathing under control. Luckily I stopped just short of T-boning the Hurrying Harlot but it was too damned close for comfort. I realize everyone is running around like crazy trying to get ready for the holidays but come on people, Safety First and all that. What kinda Christmas is your family gonna have if you’re in the hospital or even worse in the morgue?

In other news: the living room floor is piled up with wrapped presents, the stocking are hung and I have a fine collection of Christmas cards from friends and family. The cats have been playing King of The Mountain on the stacked boxes, shredding paper and unraveling bows to their furry hearts content. Everyone’s been bought for so no more fighting crowds and I actually have several days off next week. Barring schedule changes, I work off Tuesday morning and don’t have to go back until Christmas night. I can’t remember the last time I had Christmas Eve off from work!

Sorry I haven’t visited everyone’s blogs, I can’t do it at work and I haven’t had time what with working OT and trying to get all the shopping done. I promise to get around to everyone as soon as possible, but until then know that I’m thinking of you all and wishing y’all a Merry (and safe) Christmas.

THE FULL BODY PROJECT

Leonard Nimoy is perhaps better know as Star Trek's Dr. Spock but he is also a very well known and respected photographer. His latest gallery showing is "The Full Body Project" featuring not stick thin models but women of size (you can see several of the photos on the website). Never one to follow the crowd, Nimoy has decided to showcase the beauty of the full bodied woman. In his own words:

I asked them to be proud, which was a condition they took to easily, quite naturally. Having completed the compositions that were initially planned, I then asked them to play some music that they had brought with them, and they quickly responded to the rhythms, dancing in a free-form circular movement with in the space. It was clear that they were comfortable with the situation, with each other, and were enjoying themselves.

How wonderful to find a person, and a man at that, who doesn't shy away from a woman with a little meat on her bones. These woman are more what we normal females look like; not those stick thin waifs you see on the catwalk, those boys with boobs whose pelvic bones could and should be considered lethal weapons. These are women who enjoy life, you don't hear skinny women talk about much except their diets and how much they weigh.

Many full-figured women are tormented because they haven't learned to love themselves. I believe this is because society as a whole (TV, magazines and the web are full of diet, weight loss and exercise ads), and so called friends and loved ones in particular, badger them to become something that they're not. Some of us will never be skinny no matter what we do. Age and gravity work on us all. Things settle, the "girls" head south, our asses droop and drag, we get that pooch on our tummies from carrying our children 9 months. And you men don't fare any better: the more your belly sticks out the less ass you seem to have, your hair migrates from the top of your head to your back and shoulders, your "solider" doesn't salute near as often nor does he "raise the flag" near as high. The main difference that I see between the sexes is that no matter how bald, fat, old or wrinkled a man gets, he still considers himself fine. I wish the ladies had the same self confidence. And ladies, you should know that there are guys out there who love your curves, AskMen.com - Skinny vs. Full-Figured Women or this guy and his commenters.

It's like the great poet Sir Mix-A-Lot once said: "I like big butts and I cannot lie."

So Ladies, love yourself. You have to consider yourself lovable before someone else can love you. No one wants someone who considers themselves worthless. You have to decide that you deserve love; hell, you deserve to be adored for the wonderful sexy vixen that you are. And age doesn't count, you can be a silver fox if you want. And men, cut the ladies some slack. A well rounded woman of any age will love you all night long leaving you gasping for breath and jumping for joy.

HO HO HO - OH MY ACHING FEET

Ah, what sweet relief to finally get home and take off those damn shoes (wiggles toes in bliss). I’m used to sitting in front of a bank of ‘puters that look like something aboard the Star Trek Enterprise for 12 hours (which explains why my arse is soooooo big and my feet aren’t - as you can see in the pic to the right. Yeah, I work hard. Shut up damn it, I get paid for what I know not what I do, not to say I don't do anything ........), not traipsing from store to store in search of the perfect Christmas presents for my tribe of nieces and nephews great and small.

The stores are already thronged by masses of Christmas shoppers, and its assholes and elbows to get to the good stuff. As usual, Jr. just HAS to have the latest gewgaw in fashion and Mom & Dad are bound and determined that the youngster not be shamed in front of his peers. It hasn’t gotten to the bloody mayhem stage yet but I predict that in only a few days time we’ll see newscasts of shoppers fighting in the aisles. There was an EMS vehicle in front of the mall and several cops talking to some young men but I couldn’t tell what happened; it seems that I missed all the excitement, Thank Goodness.

I managed to get 90% of my shopping done, so I’m good. I hate to wait until the last minute and then grab just anything. A gift should show some thought, it's not how much you spend but the fact that you cared enough to think of something that fits the personality of the gifted/giftee.

Now it’s time to kick back on the couch and watch the latest episode of Torchwood on BBCAmerica. Captain Jack is a doll and what with all the overtime that I've been working I've gotten behind on whats happening, plot twists etc. Plus I just have to have my dose of eye candy before bedtime, conductive to sweet dreams don't ya know! Nite Y’all.

TAGGED - BOOK MEME

Ell over at the Pomegranate Tiger has tagged me with a book meme.

Instructions:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fourth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences along with these instructions.
Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.
5. State the book title and author.

Being a person who follows directions well (OK, stop laughing y'all!)I spin my 'puter chair around and grab the first book off the top of the stack in the floor (the bookshelves are overflowing and I have books stacked all over the house. No flat surface is left empty, dusty tomes litter every spare inch of surface and I've already read most of them). I open the cover, flip to page #123 and count down four sentences. Here's what I find:

She started to take off her uniform shirt, then stopped.
"What?"
"I'm too fat."
"You're goddamn right." She always said she was fat. One time I'd told her that she should shut up about it, that large black women wore their fat like mink coats.

From "Drinking Coffee Elsewhere" by Z. Z. Packer, a wonderful collection of short stories that tease, tempt and tantalise your emotions. All the stories are written from a growing up Black prospective but one also meets an array of other characters; from African American church ladies, white intellectuals, to inner-city dwellers, but the morals and feelings of these literary gems apply to us all. Well written, these tales don't have the feel of the usual short story but instead are well fleshed and thoroughly enjoyable.

This is my first book by Z. Z. Packer and I'm making it a point to find some more of her works. She's been published in lots of magazines (starting when she was just 19). Her work has appeared in Seventeen, Harper's, The Best American Short Stories (2000), Ploughshares and has been anthologized in 25 and Under: Fiction.

EVENING STROLL

Opening one eye to check what o’clock it was, I was blinded by the light! A ray of lethal brilliance stabbed straight through my pupil and into the pain center of my puny half-awake brain. Instinct made me jerk the covers over my head, blocking out that damned invasive sunbeam, until I had time to decide whether it was worth the trouble of getting up or if I should just be lazy and catch a few more hours of shuteye. After working 3 straight weeks of midnights, sunlight’s only a distant fond memory. It’s usually twilight by the time I get up and hit the road, and still dark when I head back home; good thing I don’t suffer from SAD! Deciding that a beautiful day was too good to waste I half heartedly talked myself into getting up early and catching a little daylight before hitting the plant.

After slowly easing my head out from under the quilt and shoving the cats out of the way I staggered out of bed and into the shower. 15 minutes of pounding hot water later I was starting to feel half way human and ready to face the world. Dressing warmly, I headed for Recede, the company park, located on the Tennessee River and only 10 minutes from work. That way I could stroll the riverbank to my heart’s content and not have to worry about clocking in late.

There’s something about water that’s always called to me. The sound of a fountain, the vista of any lake or river, the majesty of the ocean; it doesn’t matter as long as it’s peaceful and not too crowded. This time of year there are no campers and there weren’t any fishermen out today, so I had to the place all to myself. TVA always drops the river’s level in the winter so there was plenty of room to walk along the shore, the exposed sand and pebbles showcasing treasures hidden by muddy water the rest of the year. The sunlight was bright enough to require shades but the breeze off the river was chilly, making me glad that I had my work jacket on. All in all, a nice day for a leisurely stroll.

Nickel sized muscle shells crunched beneath my feet, scaring away the mallard ducks who minutes before were busily catching minnows in the slew that borders the side of the park. Oddly shaped chunks of driftwood lay haphazardly upon the sand, smoothed and rounded by the tossing and turning of the river’s current: Mother Nature’s works of art deco. River rocks and quartz nuggets gleamed in spotlights of sunbeams, free gems for anyone who had an eye for beauty.

As I walked I noticed several sets of deer tracks leading down to the water. The largest ones no bigger that those made by a decent sized dog but the smallest ones....... OH! They were so tiny! It almost looked as if someone had stabbed two fingers into the sand; the fawn couldn’t have weighed more than a few pounds (what the deer hunters around here call a “shoebox deer” because when dressed out it would fit inside a shoebox). I could picture Mom and baby deer tiptoeing down the bank, nervous and afraid of anything that moved. Not only did they have to be wary of wild predators, it’s deer season here. Believe me, there are lots of rednecks who aren’t above shooting Bambi. But in movie of my imagination, they drank unmolested and continued back into the safety of the forest; the fawn’s dappled coat blending into the shadows of the undergrowth. Hey, it’s my story and I’ll tell it the way I wanta.

Then my time was up. The setting sun made the temps drop causing me to zip up my coat, peep at my watch, give the river one last lingering glance and then head on out for work to make a dollar or two more.

REVISITING FAVORITE BOOKS

"He had discussed it in great detail with the two people in the world closest to him: his wife and his mistress. Anna, a middle-aged, ugly, bitter woman of peasant stock, had ordered him to keep away from the airport and stay in the background so that he could not be blamed if anything went wrong. Melina, his sweet, beautiful young angel, had advised him to greet the dignitaries. She agreed with him that an event like this could catapult him into instant fame. If Skouri handled this well, at the very least he would get a raise in salary and - God willing - might even be made Commissioner of Police when the present Commissioner retired. For the hundredth time Skouri reflected on the irony that Melina was his wife and Anna was his mistress, and he wondered again where he had gone wrong."



Damn, I wish I could write like Sydney Sheldon!

FUNNY

THANKSGIVING MORNING

A blustery breeze swirled moist mustard yellow leaves around my ankles as I stepped out of the car. Dawn’s anemic sun peeked through the remnants of storm clouds, casting a sickly sepia tone over everything. Last night’s thunder-boomer had passed; a goose-bump inducing drop in temperature and icy mud puddles the only evidence that summer’s long drought was over.

Puppies peeked out of the insulated doghouse, little black noses and floppy ears signaling that while they noticed Mommy was home, not one sorry flea-bitten hound bothered to leave their shared body warmth long enough to say “Good Morning”. Can’t say as I blame ‘em. Usually they play this fun game of twining around my legs or darting beneath my foot just as I try to take a step, trying to see if they can trip me between the car and the house. Selfish beasties, letting a little cold and wet interfere with their display of doggy affection, I should short them on their kibble rations!

After a long 12 hours sitting on my ample ass in front of a bunch of computers I was ready to hit the bed and snuggle with the poo-kitties for a long nap. I shed my coat and bags in the kitchen and was walking through the house leaving a trail of clothes behind me when I noticed the blinking amber light on the answering machine. Thinking “It’s Thanksgiving, someone is inviting me to fix a plate on the way to work or just giving me a cheery 'Happy Turkey Day” I hit the play button.

A sad/little boy lost/I just lost my best friend/nobody loves me voice said “Junebugg, its ex-sweet thang. I just wanted to talk, give me a call”. NOW HE WANTS TO TALK. Sounds like a personal problem to me, and it ain't no problem of mine.

Hitting the delete button, I slid between the sheets with the cats draped on each side of me and drifted off to dreamland. After all, I don’t get a day off until nest Friday week and I don’t have time for all the drama.

My new motto courtesy of Popeye: “I stands all I can stands and I can’t stands no more”

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Happy Thanksgiving Animations provided by MySpaceGraphicsandAnimations.net

Graphics provided by MySpaceAnimations.com

Funny Turkey Cartoon hosted at MySpaceGraphicsandAnimations.org

Funny Turkey Animations provided by MUDTRAP.COM

Happy Thanksgiving Animations provided by MySpaceGraphicsandAnimations.net

Myspace Thanksgiving Animations provided by MUDTRAP.COM

'PUTER VIRUS

Be careful! When you see this on your monitor:

You know it's been infected with another crappy virus!

FIVE THINGS OF WHICH JUNEBUGG IS SUSPICIOUS

The ever entertaining Schmutzie has come up with a new meme, “Nine Things of Which Schmutzie Is Suspicious” and has graciously invited anyone who’s interested to play. The rules are simple:

• Write a list of things of which you are suspicious. Any number of them will do. Even the number 0 works. This is the first meme that can be done without even doing it. In fact, you're doing it right now.
• Include the list of rules, if you feel like it.
• Link back to the person who tagged you. Or not.
• Tag however many people you want to tag. You can skip this step.
• If you acted on rule four, leave comments on their websites to let them know that they have been tagged. This step is also completely optional.
•
Feel fantastic.

I’ve decided to play along. I'm not going to tag anyone so play if you wanta, I'd love to see your list. Schmutzie’s is amusing and well written but I’m at work and blogging on the sly so I’m just going to hit the hi-lights and hope for the best. So here, in no particular order, are

FIVE THINGS OF WHICH JUNEBUGG IS SUSPICIOUS:

• Anytime someone is extra sweet to me for no reason, especially if they’re usually self-centered (several of you reading this know who you are). My skeptical mind figures (from past experience) that either they want something, have done something nasty, or are planning to do something bad in the near future and are attempting to store up good conduct credits in advance
• People who try to forcibly “convert” me to their way of thinking. Whether it’s religion, lifestyle, what foods to eat, clothes to wear or anything else you care to name, I’m not in the mood to be brainwashed into thinking/living/believing like you. I’m a grown person and have a reasonable, logical mind with an above average IQ that I’ve been using for over 52 years. I’ve attended and graduated Analytical Trouble Shooting classes, Problem Solving seminars, Leadership Skills training, and tons of other “how to decide shit” classes. Talk to me if you want but don’t yell, belittle me or condemn me to hell. I’m a stubborn old bitch with the temperament of a mule; the harder you push the more I’ll refuse to listen to you.
• Car salesmen and mechanics; enough said. They see a female with her checkbook in her hand and think “Sucker!”
• Men who take longer primping than I do.
• Things that go “bump” in the night. I live out in the country and it’s dark out there. You city folks worry about muggers and thieves. We’ve got werewolves, cattywampuses (Alabama for wampus cats), vampires and haints running around just waiting for someone to jump on here in the boonies. Warning: I sleep with a shotgun AND a rifle next to my bed and I tend to wake up in a very bad mood.

WOMAN OF A CERTAIN AGE

Friday I'll be the ripe old age of 52. I consider myself to be in the midst of middle age, so imagine my surprise when I found this while digging around on the web:

The phrase was popularized in a 1979 book by the psychotherapist Lillian B. Rubin, "Women of a Certain Age: The Midlife Search for Self," in which midlife spanned 35 to 54. Reached in San Francisco, Dr. Rubin, whose book indicates she is now in her early 70's, was surprised to learn of the long English history of the phase because "it has a long history in French (femmes d'une certaine age), where it refers to women of fortyish and thereabouts who are able to initiate boys and young men into the beauties of sexual encounters. The early use in English seems to be about spinsterhood, but the French meaning has nothing to do with marriage." In French, the phrase has erotically or sexually charged overtones. "It comes from a society where sexuality is freer," Dr. Rubin notes, "and more understood as an important part of human life."

It's nice to know that at least in certain parts of the world that a woman isn't past her sexual prime. Here in America if you're not a young 20 something, lean and have a figure like a boy with boobs you're considered over the hill. Poo on that! We over 50 women have a lot of life left in us: we're vivacious, sexually active (even with all our lumps, bumps, wrinkles, sagging boobs, dragging butts and love handles), got jobs and money of our own and now we Baby Boomers are outnumbering all the other age groups. So look out world, it's our time to shine!

I've never lied about my age and I'm not starting now. 52 and proud of it Y'all! Hell, being over 50 damned sure beats the alternative! Who knows, I might even go out and find me a trophy guy. If the men can do it why can't we women? Or as the French would say, "Vive La femmes d'une certaine age"

Cowboy Crosses Country on Horseback to Reveal Unseen American Culture

Now this man has my respect! Go and read the entire story.

Weary of the daily drumbeat over war, crime, poverty and assorted social ills, he and his wife are burning through their life savings to tell the stories of hardworking, honest everyday people in rural America. Inman soaks it all in atop Blackie, a 16-year thoroughbred-quarter horse mix who's averaging 20-25
miles a day along backroads from Oregon to North Carolina.

UNREAL BEAUTY-UNTRUTH IN AVERTISING

I found this post over at The Curvy Counselor and just has to share it.

Wanna look like the models you see on billboards? Well... it may not be humanly possible. Have you seen this video clip from Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty? Called Evolution, it’s a powerful illustration of the process of manufacturing beauty.
Take a moment to see the clip for yourself. And please let me know what you think

After watching the video I can see why it's no damn wonder women are so depressed when we compare ourselves to the altered images in ads marketing techs use in order to sell their products to us.

ADVISE FROM MY FRIENDS

THE WOMEN:

“It’s about time you dumped the guy. We missed ya.”

“You didn’t cry when you kicked that loser to the curb, did ya? Cause men’s egos always make ‘em think that you’re bawling over losing them when you’re actually crying over the thought of getting nekked in front of a brand new feller and wondering if he’s noticing your wobbly bits.”

“The way to get over a man is another man. It’s like when you get thrown by a horse, you gotta get right back on or you’ll be scarred for life. And it’s gotta be just for fun, you don’t want someone to fall in love with, just a nice warm body to rock your world one time and one time only. I recommend that you don’t give him your number and you can even lie about your name if you want.”

“Speaking of new studs, here ya go: from me to you” (waving a gaily ribbon wrapped, large economy sized box of condoms with “RIBBED FOR HER PLEASURE” in bold print on the front for the whole restaurant to see). “Remember, no love without a glove. If the man wants to play, he has to dress for the party!”

“Naw, what she needs is a new BOB” (battery operated boyfriend). “No muss, no fuss, always ready when you are and won’t bother you when you’re tired. Plus it don’t care about love handles, saggy boobs, or a big ass; and it doesn’t eat your groceries or cheat on ya.”

“The old man has a friend….he ain’t nothing pretty, got a pot belly and a bald spot but he’s sweet and he’s got a brand new Harley that’s FINE.”

THE MEN:

“If you ever decide to fool around with a married man be sure I’m the first to know”

“Hell, you got a good job, money, land, and your own house: you’ll have to beat the men off with a stick.”

“I’ll volunteer to be your ‘friend with benefits’. Just call when ever you get an itch and I’ll scratch it for ya, baby!”

GOT ONE RIGHT

At last, a horoscope that rings true!

Scorpio
Junebugg,
You will know that thoughts of passion are now deflated by the illusions a partner had about you. The tension between true and false is uncomfortably apparent. Look to move on rather than change who you are to fit someone else's desires.

ALONE AND LOVING IT

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt love; I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone, even when I was married. I care more about some people than others but I’m self-centered. Can’t help it, I’ve always been that way. I’m not sure I even love my parents; I feel obligated to them for all they’ve done for me, especially after the way they’ve taken care of me after my wreck and all. Hell, I don’t even know what love feels like. But I do like you, I feel comfortable around you, I like your company. I just don’t have strong emotions of any kind. But I’m not gonna be alone, I’ll always have some female to keep me company if you’re not interested.”

Isn’t the lack of any kind of emotion the description of a serial killer?

This is the excuse I got the next day; after Ex-Sweet Thang called, told me he’d be over soon and then didn’t show up, didn’t call, didn’t answer his cell. AGAIN. It’s the same way he disappeared for months twice before in the last 4 years: breaking up by disappearing until he got lonely; until he found out that the younger prettier thinner women weren’t interested in a self-centered overweight 47 year old blue collar worker. Then it's time to call Junebugg again: the doormat, the one who spoils her men, the one who always seems to be around until something better comes around.

And what am I, a holey pair of jeans that you put on when you don’t care what you look like, when all the nicer jeans aren’t available?

Fuck that!

So I’m now foot loose and fancy free. No more sitting at home waiting on someone who may or may not show up or call or even just think of me once in a while. No more putting my life on hold until someone else feels like doing something.

I want passion in my life! I want feelings: love, anger, sex, hate. I want to feel alive, and if I’m with someone I want them to do more than feel “comfortable”. I realize that I'm out of shape and over 50 (of the 57 million American women 45 and up, nearly half—25 million—are unmarried, outnumbering entire populations of countries such as North Korea, Taiwan, and Australia) and that demand for women of my age aren't in high demand. I don't care, being alone is the way that I've spent most of my life.

I do believe it’s time for a girls night out.

IN THE MOOD

Happy Halloween Y'all! I'm trying to get in the mood so I found I found these lovely dark abodes at Fritemares, the official homepage of author, film maker, and photographer, J. W. James. Go visit, he has some online stories to put a shiver down your back.



I'll have to work on Halloween, darn it. I missed the Blood and Roses Vampire Rave last night (although I've had reports they had "a bloody good time") and now I won't get to wear my witchy/bitchy black velvet dress for All Hallows Eve. Last year we went to Tennessee for the haunted house from hell and then had a few drinks in the local Applebee's where our costumes got lots of attention. But that was last year, this year ain't looking too good.

I never get to have any fun, it's just not fair! I wanta get out and do a little tricking and a lot of treating myself. Being a responsible adult ain't no fun! I'm looking forward to my second childhood when I'll be old enough to know better and young enough at do it anyway!

Anywho, Boo Y'all. Lets get in the mood and go bob for apples, drink strange mixed drinks and stagger around in the dark. Anyone wanta come play with me?

NEVER TOO LATE

Wednesday night Sweet Thang’s parents hosted a dinner and I was fascinated watching his elderly aunt and her new husband.

It’s not often that you see an older couple showing public displays of affection like these two. As they sat side by side telling the story of how they met, lost each other and rediscovered love in their twilight years his age spotted hand caressed her leg. Even though she was beyond plump, he was thin with major hearing loss, and both were white-headed, their love showed in every action. Every time they glanced at each other you could see a twinkle in their eyes. At a remark about them still “honeymooning” both oldsters started giggling like a couple of teenagers. These two couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other and you never saw one of them unless the other was only a few feet away. Not bad for a couple in their 70s.

I don’t remember the complete romance story but it goes something like this (any errors are due to my bad memory):

He was her first date when she was 14. They got more and more infatuated with each other but then he went away to fight in the war. After being discharged he had problems settling down (as he put it, back then no one had ever heard of “battle fatigue” so the VA didn’t offer any medical help).

Both married and raised families. Then in their golden years, each of them widowed and at an age when society expects you to be asexual, unattractive to the opposite sex, dateless, old and alone {much less fall in love and marry} they rediscovered each other and tied the knot.

Just goes to show, it’s never too late for love. Sounds like a good story line for the Lifetime Movie Channel, doesn’t it?

Kiss My Grits

Turn the speakers up and listen close to the lyrics!

REUNION

Family reunions; that quintessential mixture of love, laughter and loss. Relatives hold forth with the same verbal sparring that they’ve mastered over the years, but now there’s more gray heads than sparkling eyes in the mix. Hugs encompass the shoulders of loved ones present and accounted for, making the black hole of deceased family members all the more obvious and heartbreaking. Oldsters catch-up with each other while youngsters ask “Who are you?” “Whose your Mom/Dad?” before adjourning outside to toss a football as if they’ve known each other forever. Old memories are shared and new ones made as long lost kin reminisce and new babies are introduced to strangers whose genes they share.

Saturday was the first reunion in years of The Curnutt Clan, my Mom’s family. It was hosted by my Cousin Danny at CR Mechanical (his company) in Tanner, with Danny furnishing hotdogs and hamburgers and the rest of the relatives bringing covered dishes. Of course there was an overabundance of food; 2 tables groaned beneath the weight of casseroles and desserts of every kind (ain’t it always that way at reunions!) All the cooks urged everyone to “Try some of this, I brought it!” as paper plates were filled to overflowing and frost-bitten hands dug into coolers searching for the beverage of choice. Several cameras snapped at odd times, capturing candid photos of bulging cheeks and wide open mouths with food being shoveled in for all prosperity. I can see my grandson years from now asking “Who’s the old man with half a hotdog hanging out of his mouth?”

One of my cousins walked by, patted me on the tummy and asked “Getting kinda fat, aren’t ya?” Later I told my sister Donna that our sisters and kids were the biggest bunch at the reunion (meaning there were more of us) and she replied “Yeah, in more ways than one” and it’s true. Most of Mom’s relatives are on the slender side while we Waters Women take after our Dad’s family (a much sturdier stock). Kinda funny when you consider the fact that my Grandmother Curnutt was known to all as “Big Mother”.

The reunion was held just down the road from the old Curnutt home which had been condemned and is being torn down. Of course everyone had to go look and recall stories about our growing up in and around the ancient two story house. When we were kids it seemed gigantic, but as adults it’s hard figure out how the heck they got so much furniture in the tiny rooms. Donna got several hand-made cinder bricks from the old fireplace as mementoes, but I prefer my memories to solid objects which will only catch dust. You can take memories out and play with them whenever you want and they don’t take up space in my already cluttered life.

After all, aren’t good memories kept bright and shiny from constant use the best tribute that you can give a loved one, whither they’re alive or deceased? To all my family, I love y’all and I’m proud to be a part of the clan. I hope you feel the same way about me.

A special thanks to Cousin Danny for the use of his time and business place. Love Ya.

PS: The computer censer at work has blocked this website and any other with the term "blogspot" in the address, so I don't have as much time to visit my blogbuddies. Sorry for not getting around to everyone as much as usual

MY SO CALLED LIFE

I don’t know what’s been wrong with my blogging lately. Something interesting or out of the ordinary will happen and I’ll think “Wow, that’ll make a good blog entry” and start composing a post in my head, but when I finally get time to sit down at the ‘puter my pea sized intellect goes totally blank. Maybe it’s the much ballyhooed “writer’s block” (although I don’t consider myself much of a writer) or old-timer’s disease, could be I’m just in a rut; but I apologize for the lack of recent posts. I would promise to do better but I’ve already done so and then reneged.

Today I went on a small shopping spree; got a several of those retro Jackie-O style jackets with bracelet length sleeves (one a black and white houndstooth, one dark gray and last but not least a brown tweed; I'm trying to match the stuff already in my closet) and a pair of elbow length gloves. I may be too "long in the tooth" for fashion but what the hell; I figure at the ripe old age of almost 52 (as of next month) I can wear what I want.

I’ve also been trying to do a little closet purging before I drag out the cold weather stuff. Why is it that you always find things with the tags still on that you’ve never worn or even forgot that you bought? I wear jeans and casual tops to work (one of the downfalls of a blue collar job) so most of the nice clothing that I lust after sits in the closet waiting for that proper occasion that never comes up. I guess I’ll have to start dressing up to go to Wal-Mart or the grocery store. It’s not like I have a lot of events to attend, what with my work schedule I’m lucky to get dinner and a movie and my “girls night outs” have been few and far between.

My buddy Karen is side-lined with 3 broken ribs. Her husband and son were sitting up scaffolding to paint their 2 story home while she was mixing paint and one of the scaffolds fell on her back, pinning her to the ground on top of a fire ant bed until someone heard her yelling and came to her rescue. So she’s house bound for a couple of months per the Dr. and in a lot of pain. She’s so hyper that I can’t imagine her being down that long, so we’ll see how well she obeys orders. Until she’s back on her feet we do a lot of phone tag and I try to keep her in reading material. She doesn’t care much for books so I drop off magazines and gossip rags for her to read at her leisure. Wish I could more but I’m not sure what that would be.

Sweet Thang is back at work until next month when they plan surgery to remove the biggest bolt that runs from the outside of his hip through the pelvic bone into his lower spine (he claims that he can feel it every time he sits down. Nothing worse that a bolt in the butt!). His Dr. says that Sweet Thang will be back at work in a couple of weeks so I hope that maybe it won't be long till he’ll be able to start living a more active life. Our social life has consisted of watching TV together and I’m ready to get out of the house and enjoy some of this glorious fall weather.

OK, that’s all that’s happening in my life lately. And how have y’all been doing?

DNA

Stolen borrowed from Bitchitude.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

THINK PINK

October is National Breast Cancer Month. I'm sure we all know someone who is suffering from or has survived this terrible disease. As you can see on the image on the left, breast cancer affects men as well as women so we're all at risk.

"Breast cancer may be one of the oldest known forms of cancer tumors in humans. The oldest description of cancer ....... discovered in Egypt and dates back to approximately 1600 BC." ....... In the United States, breast cancer is the third most common cause of cancer death (after lung cancer and colon cancer). In 2007, breast cancer is expected to cause 40,910 deaths (7% of cancer deaths; almost 2% of all deaths) in the U.S.{from "breast cancer" in Wikipedia}.

So go to a rally, enter a race or fundraiser,put a pink ribbon on your car or person and for goodness sakes check your boobs for lumps and bumps and such {if you need instructions for a self-check, here they are).

Even more fun, get someone else to massage your titties for you! At the least it could lead to a little lovin' and at the worse you might catch the "Big C" before it gets too far along to correct.

REDNECK WEDDING

After all these weeks I've finally gotten around to developing the pictures I took at my nephew's Redneck Wedding. It's a bitch when real life interferes with the pleasures of life but I gotta work to eat, so what's a girl to do.

I have to admit that this was the best wedding that I've ever been to. It was outdoors, they served pintos and cornbread at the reception, the bride's relatives provided live entertainment and everything came off without a hitch (bad pun; hitch, getting hitched. Oh well, you get it).

My sister Teresa (mother of the groom), 3rd of us 5 girls, and her husband Randy.
Both the groom and groom's man wore high top Converse sneakers.
Whispering sweet nothings
Told you it was redneck! Brock, the groom's man.
Paul and Erica, the happy couple


The bride and bride's maid buck dancing at the reception.

I wish Paul and Erica all the happiness in the world. If their mariage goes half as well as the wedding did they'll be an old couple holding hands while they watch their grandchildren play. We should all be so lucky.......

REAL WOMEN

This is a post from last year that is near and dear to my heart considering that I have always had an "hourglass figure" and now that I'm over 50 I seem to have more "sand" than ever! Let's hear it for us "real women"!

Auguste Renoir once said "There is enough ugliness in the world -- why should we paint ugly pictures?" So, this young lady, the subject of Seated Bather (1883-1884) certainly wasn't what he considered ugly! She fits the lush, rounded style of Renoir's era.

It seems I was born too late, dang it.

Gustave Klimt is considered one of the foremost definers of the Art Nouveau movement, which emphasised use of sensuous curving lines and forms. There is nothing "supermodel-like" about his Danae (1907). Her thigh is much more familiar to most of us than the thin, tubelike thighs that are considered attractive now

This painting by Pablo Picasso (one of my favorite artists) always makes me smile, just for the sheer joy and fun of it! Bet you thought that Picasso only painted what looked like bits of people all stuck together the wrong way? That was only one of his artistic periods.

Though the perspective and proportions are deliberately skewed, and this is not an attempt at realism, these women are definitely of "heroic" proportions. Don't they look happy? Who says you have to have ribs sticking out to be joyous and attractive? Why wait until you lose weight before you start doing all the things you want to do?


Here are some statistics for you:
*Most fashion models are thinner than 98% of American women
*The average fashion model is 5'9" to 6' tall, weighs 110 - 118 lbs and is seventeen to twenty-six years old & wears a size 6 - 8 dress.
*The average American woman is 5'5" tall, weighs 142 lbs, and is 44 years old.
*Forty percent of women wear a size 14 or above...
*Sales of plus-size clothes in 1996 were more than $20 billion...
*Plus size sales rose to $47 billion in 2005.
*Lillian Russell, the leading sex symbol at the end of the 19th century, weighed over 200 pounds.
*Marilyn Monroe would be considered "overweight" by today's standards. She fluctuated between a size 14 and size 18 dress

I'M STILL HERE.......

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of family related activities. The wedding of my nephew to the great-niece of one of my nearest and dearest friends (which I guess makes us in-laws or outlaws or something along those lines). The funeral of my semi-adopted son’s paternal grandmother. My grandson’s 8th birthday and Sweet Thang’s first day back to work after his traumatic motorcycle accident last April. Working 12 hour shifts on a10 day shutdown at work myself. And on and on and so forth; the responsibilities of real life sometimes leave little time for the things we love to do.

In other words, I haven’t posted because I’ve barely had time to sleep or do laundry or any of other mundane chores that we all have to do on a daily basis, much less try to come up with something witty or entertaining to put out on the web. Not to say that I’m ever witty or entertaining, but you get my meaning.

Perhaps fall’s cooler weather and slower pace will bring about a new scattering of posts along with the fallen leaves that are starting to cover my much neglected lawn. I hope that y’all will bear with me and I promise that I’ll get around to visiting your sites just as soon as I catch my breath.The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of family related activities. The wedding of my nephew to the great-niece of one of my nearest and dearest friends (which I guess makes us in-laws or outlaws or something along those lines). The funeral of my semi-adopted son’s paternal grandmother. My grandson’s 8th birthday and Sweet Thang’s first day back to work after his traumatic motorcycle accident last April. Working 12 hour shifts on a10 day shutdown at work myself. And on and on and so forth; the responsibilities of real life sometimes leave little time for the things we love to do.

In other words, I haven’t posted because I’ve barely had time to sleep or do laundry or any of other mundane chores that we all have to do on a daily basis, much less try to come up with something witty or entertaining to put out on the web. Not to say that I’m ever witty or entertaining, but you get my meaning.

Perhaps fall’s cooler weather and slower pace will bring about a new scattering of posts along with the fallen leaves that are starting to cover my much neglected lawn. I hope that y’all will bear with me and I promise that I’ll get around to visiting your sites just as soon as I catch my breath.

MEN ARE LIKE.......

For all those men who say "Why buy a cow when you can get milk for free", here's an update for you: Now days, 80% of women are against marriage. WHY? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage.


Men are like....
1. Men are like ...Laxatives ...... They irritate the crap out of you.
2. Men are like. Bananas ....... The older they get, the less firm they are.
3. Men are like ...... Weather . Nothing can be done to change them.
4. Men are like .......Blenders You need One, but you're not quite sure why.
5. Men are like .....Chocolate Bars .... Sweet, smooth, & they usually head right for your hips.
6. Men are like .... Commercials ....... You can't believe a word they say.
7. Men are like Department Stores ..... Their clothes are always 1/2 off.
8. Men are like ......Government Bonds .... They take soooooooo long to mature.
9. Men are like .....Mascara . They usually run at the first sign of emotion.
10. Men are like .Popcorn ..... They satisfy you, but only for a little while.
11. Men are like Snowstorms .... You never know when they're coming, how many inches you'll get or how long it will last.
12. Men are like ....... Lava Lamps .... Fun to look at, but not very bright.
13. Men are like Parking Spots .......... All the good ones are taken, the rest are handicapped.

THUMB'S UP

A big thumbs up to the guy I saw in Decatur, AL yesterday. Two women's car had broken down in the middle lane of a busy highway and they were attempting to push it out of the way. Traffic was buzzing past them in the 103 degree heat with everyone looking and pointing but no one even considered stopping to help. While I was hunting a place to stop my car and help, this fine sample of Southern gentlemanhood stopped in the middle of the road, put his emergency flashers on, removed his suit jacket and helped the ladies to push their car into a nearby service station.

Who said that chivalry is dead? So to the white haired feller with the cute white goatee, well done and thumbs up!

ROAD TRIP

Flashing blue lights illuminate a sullen young man being shaken down by two cops underneath an overpass. Bumper to bumper traffic in both directions as far as the eye can see. A young homeless woman walking slump-shouldered beneath the shade of a broken black umbrella in the 105 degree heat, dragging all her worldly belongings stuffed in a lawn-sized black trash bag and piled on top of a child’s toy wagon with a broken wheel behind her.

These are some of the sights that greeted me in Marietta, Georgia, where I’ve been on a work project for the last three days. I’m just a simple country girl from a small town. We don’t have homeless people sleeping in doorways, a traffic jam is usually caused by an accident, and the police are more likely to be seen in the diner than doing a roadside pat down. I’ve traveled a great deal for personal reasons and I’ve visited large cities before; but this was my first job related trip and my first taste of the life of a “road warrior”. After seeing this side of city life I was glad to come back to Moulton, Alabama.

I went to Marietta, Georgia (Marietta is the third largest of three principal cities and is included in the Atlanta-Sandy Springs-Marietta, Georgia Metropolitan Statistical Area) with a couple of co-workers, one of our E/I (electrical/instrumentation) guys, and an engineer to help design new operating software for our department at the plant. We met with a company named Feed Forward Inc and a rep from Rockwell Automation who did the actual programming. It was an interesting trip, I learned a lot about the tech side of my job and I’ll be one of the people teaching the rest of my co-workers how to operate the new systems when it gets implemented.

Any thoughts of spending nights out on the town were banished by the long hours we put in. We got to the offices early and worked late; leaving at dark-thirty gave us just enough time to go eat and crash in our respective rooms so we could do the same thing the next day.

I’m proud to be home, and I want to thank the guys at Feed Forward who treated us well, fed us great food on the job and were extremely patient with all my dumb questions. There’s no way I could do their job (who knew that you could do so much with just 1s and 0s) and I was impressed with the job they did.

Now I’m off to check in on my blog buddies, I’ve missed y’all.

FISHING STORY

One morning the husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance, anchors, and reads her book.

Along comes a Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?"

"Reading a book," she replies, (thinking, "Isn't that obvious?")

"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her.

"I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading."

"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."

"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman."

But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.

"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."

"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.

MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can also think.

(Got this from my cousin Danny C.)

NOT YET

Elliott Funeral Home
Peace-of-mind from knowing “it’s all been taken care of.”
15215 Court Street*Moulton, AL 35650

Dear Junebugg,
You’d be surprised. Funeral pre-planning (yes, funeral pre-planning) actually can be interesting and quite pleasant. Within a friendly and comfortable setting, you’ll discover the one memorial style most right for you-the one memorial style most right for celebration your life.

WTF! At the admittedly advanced age of 51 I realize that I’m no spring chicken, any delusions of youth I still harbored in my pea sized brain were squashed after the first dozen or so mailings from AAARP and then I find this invitation to plan my own going away party in the mailbox. I do not, and let me repeat this loud and clear so there can be no misunderstanding, DO NOT have any intention of starring at my own funeral any time soon.

How can anyone possibly think planning for your own demise would in any way possibly be “quite pleasant”? Myself, I prefer to pretend that I’ll live forever because I subscribe to the philosophy that “Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting "...holy shit..., what a ride!” I’ll celebrate my life while I’m still living, thank you very much. Maybe I’m wrong but I think I’d enjoy the party much more if I’m still breathing while it’s going on.

Besides, I’ll be deceased, departed, gone. Why would I care if my casket is pine or mahogany, bronze or brass? Heck, stick me in a cardboard box for all I’ll mind because I’ll be dead, people. Sing any hymens you want, talk bad about me, tell any embarrassing stories that you can think of and maybe even make up a few extra because, not to repeat myself but, I’ll be dead.

I’d rather spend my money on new shoes, a day at the spa, a few hang gliding lessons and a 6 month cruise around the world. I’ve spent my whole life taking care of other people; the least they can do is plan my funeral for me when I’m gone.

YEA ME!

Wahoo! This morning for the very first time I actually lasted a full 20 minutes on the elliptical machine. Not too shabby considering it was 4:00 A.M and I haven't been quit smoking for that long; plus the first time that I set foot on the damn thing I couldn’t even go 3 minutes. Granted I was melting and dripping all over the floor this morning but damn it, I did it!!!!!! I would have done a happy dance all over the gym but my knees were wobbly and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by falling on my face in front of all my workout buddies.

Wonder how long I’d have to stay on the evil elliptical to work off all that gloriously fattening but oh so tasty, totally to-die-for 4 cheese baked polenta (that’s Italian grits for all y’all Southerners out there) that I cooked and ate yesterday? Leftovers are hidden in my lunch for today, yum!

COOL IDEA

I found this over at Spicy Bug's and just had to jump on the bandwagon.

COOL IDEA

Join the Google PR Chain!! You don’t have to be on this list to join. Just grab it and join.

** Start Copy Here **

We all know how important getting link backs is and with this chain, you can get the ball rolling! You don’t have to be an established blogger to take part in this chain.

Here are the rules:
1. Copy this post from the point where it says “Start Copy Here” to the point where it says “End Copy Here”
2. Add yourself and 5 of your favorite bloggers to the end of the list.
3. Post this on your blog

The Prize Blog, Enkay Blog, Ms. Danielle, Cash For Comments, BetShopBoy, JohnCow, Mr. Gary Lee, Jon Lee, Dosh Dosh, Some Make Money, The King Kong Blog, RomanDock, Michael Kwan, Ed Lau, Jane May, Sam Breadstone, Samanathon, Shadowscope, My Single Mom Life, The BenSpark, Tricia’s Musings, GeekySpeaky, TJ’s Anti-Contrarian Blog , Public Pondering , Freedom Now , Neocon Command Center , Woman Honor Thyself , We Can’t All be Washingtons , The Sassy Southerner, Vegan Momma, Just a touch of sweetness, BushMackel, Suncoast Scribe, Hippiespelunker, Kshippychic, A Purple Shade of Black, MACKEYDOODLE, Spicy Bug, Maryannaville, G-Man, Whatever Blows My Skirt , Transformations, B-My Life My Thoughts, Raising L, Reconstitution , Wasted Days Wasted Nites, Cyber Outlaw's Hangout, Boobs Injuries and Dr. Pepper, Yellowdog Granny, Life of the Cake Lady, Got Nothing But Toe Jam,
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**End Copy Here**

MOVE YOUR ASS

As I’ve complained bragged talked about before, I’ve been on a self improvement kick (i.e. quit smoking, move my ample derriere and get some exercise, maybe even try to eat a little healthier). Sweet Thang is still recovering from his motorcycle mishap; after 3 months being bed-ridden and wheelchair-bound, you’d think he would be chomping at the bit to get back in shape. So the obvious idea would be that we do things together, providing each other with encouragement etc etc . Wrong.

Although Sweet Thang is hobbling around on a cane, he can’t hold out for very long. I’ve been trying to get him to go walking with me but he moans that it’s too hot. Don’t tell his Mom, but the only outing that he’s been interested in is going to the bar and shooting pool while drinking beer with his hard ankle buddies. As a matter of fact, it's the first place he drove when he managed to escape from Mom's watchful eye. So I suggested “mall walking” and he actually got insulted; informing me that’s what “old women do”. Hell, the oldest woman I know can run circles around him; if he doesn’t get his fat ass in gear he’ll never be able to go back to work and I’ll be damned if I’ll feel sorry for him OR support him.

I took him to Sears just to get him out of the house and he lasted about 30 minutes; heck I thought every man alive could spend all day in Sears! The same thing happened at Hartselle’s indoor flea market; 30 minutes and we had to go. I managed to get him to go to the movies and he did stay for the whole film (Live Free or Die Hard; excellent flick, lots of bang for your buck). However he shifted and moaned and groaned the whole time and when it came time to leave it took him 10 minutes just to get out of his seat. The man's gotta start moving or he's going to develop rust!

I know it’s gonna be a long, hard recovery but Sweet Thang has got to get out from in front of the TV and put forth some effort. It’s been 4 months; the bones have healed but his muscles have gone to shit. Yeah, I know it hurts but nothing’s going to make it better other than just grit your teeth and “Get ‘Er Done”. His Aunt has offered the use of her swimming pool for the aqua therapy that his Dr. recommended but I can’t get him to even try. Maybe if I get a cattle prod and keep zapping him he’ll get in gear………..

In other news, I’ve got a new ‘do, y’all. I’ve been foiled! As Ashley worked on giving me a metal head, I glanced in the mirror and scared myself! The image reflected back at me looked like something from SETI looking for radio signals. You know, evidence of life on other planets. ET, phone home!!

So now I have lovely tri-tone tresses, my ever increasing gray hairs are camouflaged, and the guys at work are actually giving me compliments. I must look OK, usually I have to shave my head before they notice so compliments are a big deal. Plus they keep asking me how much weight I’ve lost. My clothes fit differently, I can actually shimmy into some jeans that I haven’t worn in several years and zip them while standing up, but the dad gummed #%*^%^# scales haven’t budged.

I guess I’m rearranging my body even if I haven’t dropped any pounds. I did get my body fat content and measurements taken at Curves the other day; every thing was about what I imagined, not good but improving. But I was shocked at my bust measurement, I'm 48 inches around the boobs! Now I know why I weigh so much, I've got 50 pounds of titties weighing me down. I knew I wear several sizes bigger in tops than bottoms but dang y'all. Now I feel lop-sidded.

Sorry I’ve been MIA, I promise to do better. I just got high speed at home so it should be easier for me to post from there. Heck; new hair, new modem, tighter ass ………. Who knows what’ll happen next!

6 WORD STORY

I got the idea from here and thought "What a great idea for a post!"

Hemingway once wrote a story in just six words
("For sale: baby shoes, never worn.")
and is said to have called it his best work.

These are some of my favorite examples given in the article:

Longed for him. Got him. Shit.- Margaret Atwood
With bloody hands, I say good-bye.- Frank Miller
The baby’s blood type? Human, mostly.- Orson Scott Card

I even found this where the author composed 6 Word Stories to match her Flicker Photos. So I guess I need to write mine and then I want y'all to post your 6 Word Story in the comments. OK, how hard can it be? Only 6 words, here goes nothing.......

Potato peels. Bloody knife. Band-aid. Ouch!

I know, not great writing. So what if I used band-aid as one word!!! It has a hyphen so I'm gonna keep it as one word. Let's see YOU do better.

BODY IMAGE

“I used to have a body like this”.

I flashed the picture of a skinny, bikini clad, hard body, anorexic 20-something model on the cover of Fitness magazine at Sweet Thang as he gave me a much deserved foot rub.

“Yeah, I remember when you looked like that”.

One of my patented over-the-glasses go-to-hell looks.

“You know Baby, you still look like that to me.”

Smart man, very very smart man………

WORKOUT

THE HARDER I TRY.......

It came out of the dark and hit me like a ten pound hammer. That damn craving, the one I thought was gone for good. My mouth filled with slobber and I strangled the steering wheel in a white-knuckled death grip. I gulped air, practicing those deep breathing exercises that’s supposed to help and all the while hungered for a smoke with every atom of my being.

Thank whatever deity that was looking after me, at 3:30 AM on rural highway 33 as it wound down Courtland mountain with moonlight sifting through the woods and coyotes' eyes gleaming in the dark, there was nowhere to buy a pack and no one to bum off of; I was safe from temptation. After checking the mirror to make sure I wasn’t foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog I drove the rest of the way into work and hit the gym, hoping to sweat out this devilish hankering for a cancer stick.

I’ve been soooooooo good for so long. Why now, after weeks of being smoke free, do I crave the damn things? When will I be free from this weakness? I haven’t even attempted a diet, just tried to stay smoke-free and away from the lure of other smokers.

I come from the age when smoking was considered "grown up" and "romantic". You know, back in the stone ages before Uncle Sam let us all know that tobacco was a killer. Watch any old movie, the hero always lights his lady love's cig. Then you have the gratuitous dual "smoking in the bed after sex" scene. Hell, back then smoking was cool and sexy and almost everyone lit up. Now old folks like me are fighting the habit, and some of us are fighting a losing battle.

Almost my entire family smoked back then, most of them still do. The habit contributed greatly to my Mom's death; so I know it's bad for me, that it stinks and is a nasty habit. But damn it's hard to give up!

Work opened a really nice gym on the plant site and I’ve been going in early on days and staying over after midnights in the hope of gaining a little muscle and thinking perhaps my gasping for breath on the cardio portion would help me resist the siren call of tobacco. I usually do 10 minutes of stretches, 20 minutes of cardio, 20 minutes of weight training, 20 more minutes of cardio and then a final 10 minutes of stretches. I've even conquered the incline sit-up bench! Not too shabby for an over-the-hill old broad who sits on her arse 12 hours a day for a living.

The plan was to get off of tobacco, get in semi-shape and then work on the food portion of my “get healthier.” plan. When you pass the age of 50 you have to work a lot harder on getting in shape. Plus I’m a hedonist so I’ve been putting off the diet part; I didn’t think I could give up good food and smoking at the same time.

Oh well, I guess it's back to one day at a time. I've resisted Demon Tobacco, now if I can just kick my honey bun habit.......