Wow, I haven't visited here or posted in a looong time. I haven't been able to acsees my e-mail account while in London for the past 6 months, so I apologize to all the people who wrote to me or sent winks....(I have 600 e-mails to go through, so I'll eventually get around to it...I hope, lol)
If anyone is intrested in taking me for a ride and live fairly close....gimme a holla!
Sam Stone came home,
To his wife and family
After serving in the conflict overseas.
And the time that he served,
Had shattered all his nerves,
And left a little shrapnel in his knee.
But the morphine eased the pain,
And the grass grew round his brain,
And gave him all the confidence he lacked,
With a Purple Heart and a monkey on his back.
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes,
Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose.
Little pitchers have big ears,
Don't stop to count the years,
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios.
Sam Stone's welcome home
Didn't last too long.
He went to work when he'd spent his last dime
And Sammy took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime.
And the gold rolled through his veins
Like a thousand railroad trains,
And eased his mind in the hours that he chose,
While the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes...
Sam Stone was alone
When he popped his last balloon
Climbing walls while sitting in a chair
Well, he played his last request
While the room smelled just like death
With an overdose hovering in the air
But life had lost its fun
And there was nothing to be done
But trade his house that he bought on the G. I. Bill
For a flag draped casket on a local heroes' hill.
By: ~John Prine~
SYMPTOM: Feet cold and wet.
FAULT: Glass being held at incorrect angle.
ACTION: Rotate glass so that open end points toward ceiling.
SYMPTOM: Feet warm and wet.
FAULT: Improper bladder control.
ACTION: Stand next to nearest dog, complain about house training.
SYMPTOM: Beer unusually pale and tasteless.
FAULT: Glass empty.
ACTION: Get someone to buy you another beer.
SYMPTOM: Opposite wall covered with fluorescent lights.
FAULT: You have fallen over backward.
ACTION: Have yourself leashed to bar.
SYMPTOM: Mouth contains cigarette buttts.
FAULT: You have fallen forward.
ACTION: See above.
SYMPTOM: Beer tasteless, front of your shirt is wet.
FAULT: Mouth not open, or glass applied to wrong part of face.
ACTION: Retire to restroom, practice in mirror.
SYMPTOM: Floor blurred.
FAULT: You are looking through bottom of empty glass.
ACTION: Get someone to buy you another beer.
SYMPTOM: Floor moving.
FAULT: You are being carried out.
ACTION: Find out if you are being taken to another bar.
SYMPTOM: Room seems unusually dark.
FAULT: Bar has closed.
ACTION: Confirm home address with bartender.
SYMPTOM: Taxi suddenly takes on colorful aspect and textures.
FAULT: Beer consumption has exceeded personal limitations.
ACTION: Cover mouth.
Inventions that make you go WTF?
In my never-ending search for humor, I was browsing the internet when I stumbled across a site that lists inventions that never really " caught on." I thought I would share with you some of the ideas that people thought would be " useful."
The Bird Catcher for Cats---Now, at first I assume this guy had all the best intentions in mind. Maybe his cat was old and decrepit and couldn't get up the strength to chase birds anymore. Maybe his cat only had two legs, or one eye, who knows.
either option sounds a bit peculiar to me. Cats are built to chase things, and therefore, I assume it would ruin it for them if they just had a bird all boxed up and ready to eat. Look what has happened to humans since we've started having fast food and TV dinners. Think if cats followed in our footsteps. Not only would they get fat, but they might start thinking they're better than us, as if they're not pretentious enough as it is. Before you know it, cats would be fat slobs sitting around the house demanding that the bird be plucked and served to them on silver.
Apparatus for Simulating a High-Five---In case you haven't realized that you have no freinds, here's a handy little device to further your speculations.
Killer Bee Protector---At first you may think it to be some revelutionary spray that bees hate, but worry not, it's not something tacky and unorigonal, it's much better! You don't even have to spray anything on! It's not a cream and it's unscented. Well, I guess I can't garantee that statement. It may smell a bit like plastic, because your in a BIG PLASTIC BALL. But I suppose if you bought it used on E-Bay or something it might not smell like plastic. It might smell like a giant hamster. The previous owner might have believed that nobody would come up with something so utterly useless and decided it MUST be for his 56-pound hamster. But then you're just playing the odds, so lets go with it smelling like plastic.
I think if a person is THAT afraid of killer bees, there are a few things I think would work better. First idea - Don't go around killer bees. Second idea - Don't ever leave your house, and close your windows and lock your doors. Third idea - Poke your eyes out. It may sound drastic, but at least you wouldn't have to see any killer bees around and whenever you were stung, you could just think to yourself, " Gee, there certainly are alot of random pins falling from the sky today." Granted you may die, but at least you wouldn't have to be such a hypochondriac.
The Santa Claus Detector-- "A childrens Christmas stocking device usefull for visually signalling the arrival of Santa Claus by illumminating an externally visible light source having a power source located in said device." I don't even know where to start with this one. Let's start with those that believe in Santa. If you DO believe in Santa, stop reading now or you won't get any presents this year. Santa is watching, and he knows if you've been bad or good. --Now, if you don't believe in Santa, take into consideration who buys the presents and puts them under the tree. Let's say this thing really does what it says and " visually signals" when the presents are finding their way under the tree. The last thing you need at 3am when your stuffing presents under the tree for your three and four year olds is a ridiculously annoying sound ringing in your ear and waking up the kids. You're already tired as hell, stumbling around in your undies, putting stuff that cost too much money under the tree. You don't need to be discovered by a " Santa Detector" in this situation. Secondly,and furthering my case, what child is going to have the money to purchase this device? A parent isn't going to get a kid a noisemaker that will inevitably just ruin his/her illusion that Santa is make beleive just like elves, the toothfairy, easterbunny and so on.
Transparent Color-coding of Intraveneous Tubing and Fluid Resovoir--- Just one remark here....Um, if your a patient and you see your doctor looking at the color coordination chart to see which fluids are going into you, I think you need a new doctor.
The Greenhouse Helmet - This one is clearly going to fail before it gets off the ground, no pun intended. You can imagine the picture that the inventor drew for it. It's a picture of a guy smiling in a big fish-bowl-looking shere. He's just hanging out in there with several plants around his head because they give off oxygen. I'm no biologist, but I'm fairly sure that plants don't actually give off oxygen as fast as we breathe out carbon monoxide, so you'd need alot of plants in your bubble. I can;t quite understand the point though; seeeing as how you can buy a tank of oxygen thats about 800% lighter, and just use the nosepeice attachment to get much MORE oxygen than 15 plants on your head. Clearly the people that truly need the oxygen aren't going to be able to carry 15 plants on their heads anyway. Soooo...obviously this iinvention is for the person who doesn't want to look " stupid" when compared to the average oxygen user, by wearing a fancy green-house fishbowl on his head...
There will always be people out there that think they have an invention that will catch on if it hits the right market, and I'm sure alot of them will succeed. I just hope that there will always be people out there that will keep making ridiculously useless products so the future of mankind will go on laughing....
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
That call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Sounds of laughter shades of earth are ringing
Through my open views inviting and inciting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a
Million suns, it calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Ninth grade was THE year for me. Seemingly overnight the summer before school, I was transformed from a slightly overweight, glasses-wearing nerd into a taller, thinner, contact-wearing BOMBSHELL. Ok, maybe not a bombshell, but the change was drastic to say the least. Guys were taking interest in me, and for the first time it was not to tease me. It was about . I walked out of eighth grade short, chubby, and wore glasses. I walked into ninth grade four inches taller, slender, no glasses, . I was now a force to be reckoned with.
I had always been liked by kids, but I never quite fit into any particular clique. You had your rednecks, you had your "Preppys", you had your druggies, you had your freaky Goth people....I got along with all simultaneously by choosing not to be any particular one. I was just me. Still yet I was astonished when a senior in study hall took a genuine interest in me, a lowly ninth grader. I was into heavy metal at the time and being good in art I had drawn an exact replica of Eddie the mummy from an Iron Maiden alblum on my book cover. That and a carved METALLICA in my study hall desk, must have piqued his interest. He commented on my drawings, I melted.
He was a good guy, good looking too, and we started calling one another and before long we were inseperable. Did I mention he was a good guy? He truly was and my parents loved him. Another plus because they completely trusted me with him and let me stay out later than ever before. Had they known about our trips to the lake, and the parties, and the drinking I doubt the sentiment would have been the same. At any rate I had them fooled. I was dating a "fine young man.....".
PROM was coming up. There was no asking involved. I was going. Searching for a dres with my stepmother was like fingernails on a chalk board...I still have nightmares. Three days before Prom we FINALLY agreed on a dress that was not too short and did not show too much cleavage. It was beautiful. White with a big bow and rhinestone spagetti straps...I have to admit, we had found THE dress.
He picked me up in a red late sixties model convertable mustang. He had the top down. No matter, I had enough Aqua Net sprayed on my head it would have deflected bullets, the wind moving it was not going to be a problem. We posed for our pictures in the yard beside the lilac bushes and among the azaleas, and then more by the car and me getting in....(ok enough already dad with the camera), and proceeded to PROM.
This is where it gets fuzzy. I remember being at the prom, I remember posing for the picture that you see here, and then apparently we were too cool to stay there so we went to the party instead. I think we may have danced ...once. Now it gets fuzzy again so lets fast foreward to the cops coming.
I don't know what time it was but I remember people scattering and running.Too drunk to follow, I was captured with my panties down in the bushes peeing. My new found favorite drink (Sloe Gin) in my hand and the other on a branch for balance....well, it made for an awkward site as the flashlight lit me up.
Carried home by the police, my dad was awakened to two men holding his daughter up while she puked off the side of the porch. I don't recall, but I feel safe in saying he was not as proud of me as he was before I left. I went to my room, hugged the trashcan all night and got up the next day to the sound of a high pitched wail coming from my stepmothers lips. If you've ever had Sloe Gin you'll know that it is red...bright red in fact when you spill it all over a satin white gown. There were also some cigarette burns to boot. Head splitting open, I rose to the punishment. I was grounded for 3 weeks....but I still got to see Steve. Thats when I started sneaking out the window.
Moral of the story: If you wear a white dress to prom, drink vodka. If you get drunk, don't try to smoke. And if you get grounded, there's always a way around it if your clever.
*** I think my stepmonster still has the dress. Perhaps it's being used as a teaching tool for my two younger siblings...LOL!
I've been really bad about updating so I'm going to attempt to give a rundown of the past 3 weeks, ...........
I got back from Jamaica , I had a doctors appt with the same doctor I am currently en route to as I write this. The appt was made so I could come in and schedule a time/date for surgery to get the hardware taken out of my left leg. ( remember I just had it taken out of right leg 2 months ago....(Wonderfully graphic pic inserted)
So..I saw the doc on thursday, we took x-rays and discussed exatly what was to be done, what hardware was to go and what was to stay. We finally agreed upon leaving the 15+ screws in my foot. *Knock on wood* Those particular bits of hardware are not causing me problems....yet. However, the 3 ginormous screws in my hip, the rod from femur to hip, and the various nuts and bolts in between have REALLY been botheringme.So, bye bye rods and screws.
After filing out TONS of paperwork, I was sent to Lisa ( yes, I know them all by name now) to schedule the surgery. Let me remind you again, this is last Thurs. The only opening the Doc had before he left for vacation was FRIDAY...as in theverynextday Friday. !!!!! It was either take that date or wait until late August to have it done. Friday it would be. I'm an impatient person. The quicker I get it out, the quicker the recovery....right? Right.
By this time it was nearing 5pm. My appt. was at 2:00. It's an all day affair every time I go there....thats why I brought laptop today.... (It's an nearing 5pm and I still have yet to go get labwork done.) Luckily the place where I had to have that done was right down the street. The nurse was REALLY thrilled to have me walk in at 10 mins till 5 for labs, vitals, EKG and that stupid orientation "All about your stay in the hospital with us" So ok, I head on down there to get registered *at least I didn't have to wait, not this time anyway* The nurse was rude, it was cold as hell in there so my veins had practically disappeared, opting to burrow down where it's warm. I've probobly been stuck a million times, so I pretty much know which arm and where you're most likely to get blood, but for some reason my advice falls on deaf ears and after sticking and prodding and leaving the damn tournoquit on till my hand is a throbbing purple .....thing that looks/feels as if its going to drop off at any second they finally go to where I told them to go to in the first place. (!!!???)
Had to be at the hospital at 6:30am. It's an hours drive to the hospital so I had to get up at 5am. I took a shower the night before so I basically just crawled from the bed to the car. Pre-op was ok. Nurses were friendly, ect. I got kind of concerned though when they came to check me over one last time before surgery(make sure my leg was prepped, check IV's, ect.)........
HIM: Hello Ms. Baker. I'm here to give you a once-over before we take you back.
HIM: Ok, let me just check your IV and mark your leg to make sure we don't operate on the wrong one, heh heh
ME: Ummm, I see you're a resident.
HIM: Yes, I'll be assisting with your surgery and performing part of the removal myself (big grin)
ME: That's great. Hands on experience is good.
HIM: Yes, I get lots and lots of that. But don't you worry,I graduated in the top 5 in my class. I could probobly perform this operation myself. You're in good hands. (another big grin)
ME: Well Doc, I hope you're just using that leg to practice your handwritting cuz you're gonna be mighty surprized when you open it up and there's no hardware in it.
.......... *graduated....top of his class.....riiiight*
**skipping a bunch of crap and fast fowarding to post-op**......
Next thing I remember was waking up to white blinding pain. Felt like I broke the damn thing all over again. Pressing the call button like I was playin Asteroids..."Pain meds....nurse? NURSE!!!" Someone, I don't know who, could have been 'Mr. I graduated top of my class but marked the wrong leg for surgery ' for all I cared, came running.
HER: Ms.Baker you've got enough pain meds in you right now to tranquilize a small horse!
ME: Well lets shoot for a big horse, I've got one helluva tolerance to this stuff.
HER: I'd say! You weren't supposed to wake up for another hour!
ME: "owwwww" (hoping she'd shut up and put out)
HER: Ok, ok....give me a second sweetie, hold tight.
ME: (biting toungue)
After about 10 years she finally, finally, finally she comes back and this time sends the pain and all brain activity into the great blue yonder.
Waking up I found myself in a room, by myself (thank god)hooked up to one of those push button for drugs machines filled with Dilaudid. (morphine has no effect on me what-so-ever) Every six mins, like clockwork, I could put myself out of the pain I had accumulated in 5mins 59seconds. Little did I know the worst was yet to come.......
They sent me home Sat. morning.What time I haven't a clue as they had me pretty dopey for the ride home, but sometime early afternoon (I think) I started feeling REALLY sick. Then the 360degree headspinning projectile vomiting started. They had given me Phenergan pills for nausea. But well DUH how in the hell are you to take a pill if your gonna throw it right back up? It was awful. I was hurting like hell. The pain meds were wearing off and I couldn't take anything because that would just be wasting my meds if they ended up in the trashcan beside the bed with vomit. This went on for HOURS. Then my temperature started climbing.By this time there was absolutely nothing left on my stomache to purge....just alot of wretching. At some point that night I got some jello to stay down. Fingers crossed I tried some yogurt. That stayed down as well. I said a silent prayer and took the pills that were supposed to keep me from being sick in the first place (ha!) and a couple of pain pills cuz by this time ALL the previous had worn off. I was so miserable and worn out from all the wretching I fell right asleep.
Next day: I wake up can't feel my toes. The rest of my leg compensated for that small relief. I couldn't get out of bed OR sit up so I called for my grandmother. She took one look at me and said " You are going to the hospital, NOW." No granny, just please please please shut up and hand me some pills before I scream. Fever was holding at 103. My incisions were bright red and my knee was swollen to at LEAST twice the size of normal and VERY hot to the touch. I read the after surgery instructions paper the hospital sent home with me. Not that I needed to. So I called my Ortho nurse, told her what was going on and she told me to get my as to the office RIGHT NOW. I said no can do. There's no way in hell I'm gettin in a car for an hours ride to the clinic. To the ER I went. Which happens to be about 2 miles down the road. They take one look at me and stick me in a room straight away. Skipped triage and everything. I stayed there for I think 6 hours while they gave me meds for pain and X-rays and bloodwork....you name it. To make a long story not too much longer: The ER doctor called my Ortho doc, they did some blood cultures (which I was supposed to get results from today....no news is good news?) and dosed me up REALLY good and sent me home (I couldn't have told you my name at this point)with an appt. to go to Roanoke the next day. Next day, I was a lil better. Went to the doc thinking surely to god they're gonna admit me. Thankfully, they didn't, but they wanted to see me again in 2 days. Which is today. I feel much better.
The End.....I hope.
This is something I posted on my other blog today:
I was returning comments left on my space today and stopped to read Andys post and thank him for his well wishes. His post inspired THIS post, and HIS post was inspired by our dear Red Kitten. I suppose this is a catchy if not touchy subject, and I haven't ever written an entry that has come close to dabbling on the subject of religion. I tend to leave this subject to the theologians because more often than not, when verbally confronted with this subject I end up in a debate. I have found that christians, especially christians of the southern persuasion, ideligably intolerant of ANY other religions or beliefs.I'm not speaking for ALL christians, but in my experiences I have been told that thiers was THE path and the ONLY path to righteousness. Any and all attempts of mine to plea the side of other religions inevetably falls upon deaf ears and I am bound for hell in a handbasket.When my soul passes from this world into the next St.Peter at the pearly gates will peer into his book of believers from which my name has been erased. From atop his massive podium, eyes full of pity and sorrow, he will turn me away. Sorry kid, your elevator goes down.
I was raised in the heart of the Bible Belt. South Carolina/Virginia. Ok, maybe not the heart, but looking back it felt like it then..... and, well....I guess it still does.
I was made to attend services every sunday as a child. I see that as kinda funny now because my dad was an athiest.I knew he didn't believe and it had absolutely no effect on MY beliefs what so ever.( Aside from the fact that I was quite sure he was going to burn in hell...heh)
I knew God once. He was an enormous white man with a long flowing beard and long flowing white hair in long flowing white robes and if you made him mad he would send your ass straight to Hell.....(in a handbasket)......to burn in the fiery depths of hell forever and ever, Amen,So impressive was He in my childs mind, I made a promise to Him that I would stop eating boogers. I never ate another booger. I was six and I made a pact with God and I stuck to it.( I never said anythig about not wiping them on the wall...) I am not telling you this in jest or as attempt to belittle the beliefs of others in this God that I once knew. It is quite funny though....I was forever getting caught sampling the bounty within the depths of my nasal oriface. That particular night when I was six I realised I just couldn't help myself and the only way I knew to stop was to make a promise to God. And it worked. He helped me. He helped me because I KNEW, having made this pact, if I ever did it again I would go to Hell. I lived in fear of God. I was told and conditioned (if not outright brainwashed), that I was going to go to a very hot place and BURN FOREVER if I did not believe.
I don't remember exactly when it happened.But at some point God got thrown into the mix with the likes of Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. It just seemed proposterous to me that there was an all knowing ....being(?) ...that decided at some point that it was too dark and said "Let there be Light" and there was. Man was made from dirt? Woman was made from the rib of a man? Why didn't the bible mention dinosaurs in Genises when God was creating all this stuff? What about evolution? Is it even possible to believe in God and believe in evolution at the same time? Seems like a paradox to me.Unanswerable questions.Questions. Questions and questions and questions and no answers that are satisfiable to my mind. I am told Faith is the answer. How is faith an answer? How can you believe in something there is no supportive evidence of?
I could go on and on and on and on. But I don't want to.I'm not putting anyone down for what they believe or don't believe. I'm not walkin on anybodys toes.My thoughts when I began to write today were somewhere along the lines of how different religions are intolerable of one another. "MY religions right, YOUR religion is wrong" type thing. Case in point: inevitably Harper or someone of the same ilk will start the bible thumping in my direction. Please, don't bother. I am quite content pondering these questions on my own and finding my own path to walk down Thankyouverymuch.
I've seen comments here and there about peoples blogs going *poof* into thin air.Thier are three reasons that I know of that will make this happen:
1.) CONTENT. No need to explain this one. The BK nazis are like Big Brother man!
2.) TITLES. If the title to your particular entry for the day, week, month...however much you post, (some are more diligent than others, *cough*) If your title exceeds the limited number of characters (that includes commas, colons, I said colon....haha he ha *laughs like Beavis and Butthead*,semi-colons. periods, (damn this is going nowhere fast, lol)...anyhow, you get my meaning. If there are too many damn words or COLONS, ect. it will appear as if you posted a blog entry, but the damn thing won't show up.
3.) TIME. If you go over the time limit, (whatever that gods of BK have deemed too long) your entry will go *poof* My entries are more often than not very long so I have learned this lesson the hard way.
MY solution/suggestion: Type your entry in notepad or wordpad first, thwen copy/paste into blog area.
Hope this helps!
Melissa aka sexCRider
In retort to the all in good nature fun and rowdy comments/pleading from all of us girls to all you guys to "Take it off and show us what you got" under your shirts, skullcaps, and sunglasses....I proposes that we just say eff-it and show 'em what WE'VE got and put 'em to shame and make thier mouths (or BEAKS rather since they're all CHICKENS) drop and drool.
This is NOT meant to demean us belittle us morally. It's all in good fun girls!! So, SHOW 'EM WHAT YOU GOT!!!! I don't care how old you are or how insecure you are....you are ALL beautiful women! INSIDE AND OUT! SO getcha digi-cams out and shake your money maker! Warning: They will NOT let us put up G-string pics...I tried...haha. Just put your best feature foreward.....if you think it's your eyes, hair, legs, whatever.....take a pic or pics that shows off those feature(s) and reassemble your profile pic and let's knock these guys on thier a...buts!
Please remember: this is not an attempt to demoralize you. Nor is it a competion. We all love each other, even though we don't know each other! Us gals gotts stick together! Look at it as an advantage to show off your physical attributes! (we ALL know we're beautifull inside, now lets show those "chickens" what we got on the outside!
BIKERBABES ROCK! \w/
**We all know there are gonna be jerks crawlin outta the woodwork over this, just remember, you have the power to DELETE and BLOCK! So....Men: Be on your best behavior. Be kind. Be considerate. And most of all RESPECTFULL!!
In a comment on loves2rdes' blog, I asked if I could be a "dove" Well, she referred me to you and said there were certain "things" and inition rites. Tell me what to do girl! I'm all for it!
By the way.......re: your comment on my blog about us girls showin those men what we got, you said "I'm not even gonna compete with that"...
Girl, you are beautiful!!! I don't mind if you don't want to do it, thats your choice, but let me tell you .... when I first started this "blogging" thing, YOUR picture was the one that really caught my eye! (not in THAT way, you know what I mean...lol!) My point is this: I didn't mean for this to be a competition between all us babes...I just meant it to be all in good fun. I think your're beautiful....and I can bet you not one single person here will disagree with that. LUBYA!
There came a time when I was a teen that it was decided that I would be in charge of the laundry. This little tidbit was to be added to the list of chores I already had. The list was, in my opinion, enough to classify me as an indentured servant. But don't all teens think that? Too much work, I'd rather be lying on the couch watching tv and telling my parents how bored I was. I think that's what got my ass stuck with chores in the first place. So, with a deep sigh that only teenagers know how to do and a roll of the eyes that almost got me cleaning the gutters as well, I took up laundry.
With the fervor of one who was about to be embalmed I started sorting clothes. At first I hated it.My step mother was (and still is) a nurse, and seeing as how this whole thing was her idea in the first place, she had quite a few uniforms turn up pink. Did I do it on purpose? Ummm....yeah.
After a while, even though I would have denied it vehemantly if asked at the time, I started to like this chore. More than dusting, more than vacuuming, more than doing the dishes (I StILL hate doing the dishes) this chore gave me a sense of involvement with my family (which I also would have denied if asked). Something about sorting through your familys unmentionables and getting them clean I guess gave me a strange feeling of involvement. That and when there's alot of static electricity you can hang socks and cotton underwear all over your body and they will stick there. To my dismay, I found myself actually liking this particular chore. I liked sorting the clothes---lights, darks, in betweens. I liked the dials---hot, cold, rinse, time, heat. Those were choices i understood and could make with decisive skill. ( unless my stepmother had pissed me off, if that were the case she would wear a pink unifom to work the next day.) I can't find the remote to the tv half the time, found it in the fridge once, but washers and dryers I understood. When I was finished, I had a sense of accomplishment. A sense of competence. I was good at doing the laundry. At least that. And it's a religous experience you know. Water, earth, fire---polarities of wet and dry, hot and cold, dirty and clean. The great cycles----round and round---beginning and end---Alpha and Omega, amen. I was in touch with the great SOMETHING OR OTHER.For a moment at least, life is tidy and has meaning. But then again....
Later after moving out of the house on my own, my washing machine died on me one day.Guess I overloaded it with towels. (That or it was a karma thing for all those pink uniforms....) The load got all lumped up on one side during the spin cycle I think. The washing machine took a walk around the room and blew itself up. I thought it was coming for me.One minute it was in the throes of a seizure, and the next minute it was a white box full of half-digested towels and froth around its mouth. I guess I had fed it too much soap as well.Five minutes later the dryer expired. Like a couple of elderly folks in a nursing home who follow one another quickly in death, so closely are they entwined.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and all the towels in my apartment were in there. Knowing full well if I called the maintenace guy I would have to stay at home for thirty six hours straight and maybe, just maybe he would show up. No time for that...off to the laundromat. Being 21 at the time, spending a Saturday night in the local laundromat had no appeal what-so-ever. If I didn't go, I would have moldy clothes. What to do?
Saturday night in a laundomat, you get to see and hear things you would ever see or hear anywhere else.I watched an old lady sort out a lot of sexy black underwear and wondered if it was hers or not. I heard a college kid explain how to get puke off a suede jacket.
Sitting there waiting, I contemplated the detergent box. I used Cheer. I like the idea of a happy wash. Sitting there late at night, leaning against the dryer for warmth, drinking wine out of a thermos I brought (I came prepared), I got to brooding about the meaning of life and started reading the cheer box, (must have been the wine). Amazing. It contains ingredients to lift dirt from clothes (anionic surfactants) and soften water (complex sodium phosphates). Also, agents to protect washer parts (sodium silicate) and improve procesing (sodium sulfate), small quantities of stuff to reduce wrinkles, plus whiteners, colorant, and perfume. No kidding. All this for about a nickel an ounce. It's biodegradable and works best in cold water---ecologically sound. A miracle in a box.
Sitting there watching the clothes go round and round I thought about the world and hygeine. We've come a long way. We used to think disease was an act of god. Then we figured out it was a product of human ignorance, so we've ben cleaning up our act, literally, ever since. If only experts could come up with something to get the shit out of our minds instead ofjust off our clothes. One cup of fizzle frizzle that would lift the dirt from our lives, soften our hardness, protect our inner parts, reduce wrinkling, improve our coloring and make us sweet and good.
Don't try Cheer by the way. I tasted it. It's awful.....
How to speak about women and be politically correct:
She is not a SREAMER or a MOANER - She is VOCALLY APPRECIATIVE
She is not EASY - She is HOROZONALLY ACCSSIBLE.
She is not DUMB - She is a DETOUR OFF THE INFORMATOIN HIGHWAY.
She has not BEEN AROUND - She is a PREVIOUSLY ENJOYED COMPANION.
She is not an AIRHEAD - She is REALITY IMPAIRED.
She does not get DRUNK or TIPSY - She gets CHEMICALLY INCONVIENIENCED.
She does not have BREAST IMPLANTS - She is MEDICALLY ENHANCED.
She does not NAG YOU - She becomes VERBALLY REPETITIVE.
She is not a SLUT - She is SEXUALLY EXTROVERTED.
She does not have MAJOR LEAGE HOOTERS - She is PECTORALLY SUPERIOR.
She is not a TWO-BIT WHORE - She is a LOWCOST PROVIDER.
and for the girls:
HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT MEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT
He does not have a BEER GUT - He has developed a LIQUID GRAIN STORAGE FACILITY.
He is not a BAD DANCER - He is OVERLY CAUCASIAN.
He does not GET LOST ALL THE TIME - He INVESTIGATES ALTERNATE DESTINATIONS.
He is not BALDING - He is in FOLLICLE REGRESSION.
He is not a CRADLE ROBBER - He prefers GENERATIONALLY DIFFERENTIAL RELATIONSHIPS.
He is not FAKKING DOWN DRUNK - He becomes ACCIDENTLY HORIZONTAL.
He does not act like a TOTAL ASS - He developes a case of RECTAL CRANIAL INVERSION.
He is not a MALR CHAUVENIST PIG - He has SWINE EMPATHY.
He is not afraid of COMMITMENT - He is MONOGOMOUSLY CHALLENGED.
He is not HORNY - He is SEXUALLY FOCUSED.
It's not his CRACK you see hanging out of his pants - It's his MALE CLEAVAGE.
Good: Your wife is pregnant
Bad: it's triplets
Ugly: You had a vesectomy five years ago....
Good: Your wife is not talking to you
Bad: She wants a divorce.
Ugly: She's a lawyer
Good: Your son is finally maturing
Bad: He's involved with the chick next door.
Ugly: So are you.
Good:Your son studies alot in his room.
Bad: You find several porn movies there.
Ugly: Your in some of them.
Good: Your husand understands fashion.
Bad: He's a cross-dreser.
Ugly: He looks better than you.
Good: The postmans early
Bad: he's wearing fatigues and carrying a shotgun.
Ugly: You didn't give him a present for x-mas.
Good: Your son is dating someone new.
Bad: It's a dude.
ugly: It's your best freind.
Good: you daughter got a job.
Bad: as a hooker
Ugly: your co-workers are her best clients
WAY Ugly: She makes more money than you.
This is the actual article from the clipping ....
Man eats underware to beat breathalyzer
A Stettler man treid to eat his underware in hope that his cotton fabric would absorb alcohol before he took his breathalyzer test.
David Zurfluh was subsequently aqquitted of the charge of impaired driving because he blew a .08. the legal limit.
But the testimony broke up people in Judge MacNaughtens provincial court here Thursday afternoon. Mr. Zurfluh was collared by Constable Bill Robinson after he ran from his vehicle, which had been seen weaving down the highway. ~While sitting in the back of the patrol car, Mr. Zurfluh tried to eat his shorts, Constable Robinson told the court. ~ Mr. Zurfluh said he ripped the crotch out of his shorts, stuffed it in his mouth and then spit it out.
Several people whom were in the court room that day were asked to leave as they were finding it hard to maintain composure. "People were leaving the courtroom with tears in their eyes, trying not to laugh", said Const. Peter McFarlane.
I wish I had been wearing underwear when I got my DUI....and it just goes to show that your momma was right when she says "make sure you have on clean underwear". He got aquitted....perhaps if I get pulled again I'll just eat my panties...