Born Freeee

The hell? I turn on iTunes to listen to something while I happily blog away, and the first 3 songs that pop up are crap slow songs. Why do I even have them? I usually bump the skip button on them. Maybe just in case I'm in a craptastic whiny-ass mood? I'm gonna delete 'em. There. I feel better.
Since I haven't blogged in a bit, I have all these things running around in my head to type about, but nothing to really say. Schweet. I'll try to pick some stuff.
Oh, we rescued a crawfish at work. I say we, even though I didn't do much and certainly wanted no part in touching it. Anyhow, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Christine, Rhonda and yours truly were outside the other morning before work, grabbing our last chance nicotine and caffeine. Anyhow, I'm sitting on the curb and I see this...thing...walking/scuttling across the asphalt. At first I thought it was some big mutated scorpion. So, I do what anyone would do. Stay the feck away from it, point and say, "What the hell is that?" Christine and Rhonda say, "What?" turn around, and then, "Oh, Shit!" They get closer to it, and look and stuff, while I am still staying the feck away from it. Rhonda sticks her shoe in front of it, and it does a crazy kung-fu move, holding both of it's little snappers in the air and standing straight up. Shit, it scared me. I totally wouldn't fuck with the Crawfish in fight mode. Christine proceeds to piss it off even more, so it's really stuck in that position. Heee-yah! Wuaaaaah! Ker-pow!
Now, Christine being the only brave one, manages to pick it up, and we notice it's got some weird shite going on on it's underside. Seriously, it looks like someone chewed up a bunch of hamburger and gum together and stuck it underneath this Crawfish. We check with Dr. SL and he says it's preggers! It's a girl! Woohoo! Crawmomma. We put it in a litter box with some water, and she immediately pops out a baby crawfish. It starts swimming happily around. Us being lunatics, we all say, "AWWWWWwwwww!!!!" Like it's a cute mammal or something, when in reality it's a mutated scorpion. We witnessed the miracle of life, and that's always cute right?! Awww.
Being degenerates, we go back outside to finish up the nic and caff fixes. 10 minutes later when we return, Craw-momma has had like 150 babies. Seriously! Dr. SL said he would take the crawmomma back home and put her in the lake, but we're kinda secretly afraid he's going to fry her up and eat her. Anyway, by the time I was ready to leave, the babies weren't doing so hot. A lot of them were looking not so....alive. So, we flushed the babies, and put craw-momma in a tupperware. You should have seen some of the girls at work...the faces when I said we flushed the babies. They said that they were fine like 15 minutes ago, and I said they weren't fine like 10 seconds ago, and I seriously think they were lacking in the belief department. Humpf.
I took Craw-Momma home and put her in our lake, while Dakota kept the ducks at bay. I considered singing Born Free as she swam/scuttled away, but I really don't know the song or anything, so it would have just sounded like I was talking really slow. (That seemed like very incorrect grammar...oh well.)
In any case, as far as I can tell, Crawmamma got away scott-free to try again at making Craw-babbies. (Yes, I said babbies) As for the flushed babies, look for reports of a sewer infestation of Crawfish in Tampa.
Shit, I accidentally hit the caps lock, and typed out like 3 sentences before I noticed. i AM N r-TARD.
Ok, so! One more joyous tidbit of news, and then I will be donesky for today. Bet you thought I said donkey there huh. Nope, I was ridiculous and said 'done-ski'.
My old boss that I hate (I do hate her, I don't hate anyone but her...she is the worst person I have ever known, and I hope no one tops that) went out of business. I hope she ran out of money. That would be karma at it's best. Though I shouldn't be thinking vengeful thoughts if karma really works.
Anyhow, she decided to close up shop, gave her hairstylists 3 days notice to get out. Yeah 3 days. She screwed over everyone with a "VIP" card, which was spend blah blah get 1 point per dollar, get a pedicure for 50 million points or whatever. She wouldn't let people redeem the VIP points, and if they really tried to use those points anyhow, she guilted them, saying, the person performing the service wasn't gonna get paid. Anyhow, I heard other stuff as well, but just know, she screwed over everyone she could in every way she could.
I got my hair cut (or, "her did" [say it out loud, you'll get it] if you will) this afternoon. She went way shorter than I requested really, but it still looks good. 'Cause I'm hawt like that. I went in with trepidation b/c the stylist's name was...erg...Brandy. I was pleasantly surprised. She was pleasantly non-anorexic, and had a personality. It took her an hour and a half or so to wash/cut/dry my hair 'cause we were blathering so much. At first I wanted to blame her for taking so long, but really, that was like the best hair appointment ever. So, I'm not mad. She is by far the coolest hair cutter person I have ever been to without knowing them first.
Alright, I'm done. Fer real.
P.S. I had a conversation with my boss today. It was interesting. I'll give the tell-all account of it tomorrow. I'm sure the suspense is killing you. If it's not, it will be!

Thoo vs. Through

Hi! It's me again.
So, I keep hearing this song, and it just irritates the shite out of me. It has this line - "Think it through" - in it. But, I swear, the guy says, "think it thoo". It drives me bugshit. I even turned it up really loud so I could be sure I wasn't just being irritable. No, it is, has to be, for sure...thoo. Everytime I hear this song, I find myself saying "thoo...through...thoo...through" to see if it is any more difficult to fit the correct pronunciation into this song. It's not. It's the same amount of syllables, it doesn't even take any longer to say it. Just poke your tongue out a bit and bring it back in, theres your "r".
Do you prefer Burger King's, Mc Donald's or Wendy's fries? Dakota and I had this discussion on the way home today. I myself prefer BK's fries. Why? Because they are crunchy on the outside, smooshy in the middle, and when you pick one up it doesn't flop over all flaccid like. Hee. I said flaccid. Anyhow, Dakota likes McDonald's floppy fries, so does Bob. Eww. So, I have to know if I am in a minority here or not. I do. Really.
I had a squirty type day today. That may sound like it could be fun, but it's really not. It's really quite messy unfortunately. First off, I squirted out too much shampoo this morning, so I had the big bubbly white cartoon shampoo afro. Then I squirted mustard out the side of my sandwich, only it was mixed with pickle juice or something, because it looked like mustard pee. On my right boobie. Yay, right boobie mustard pee. Then I went to use some anti-bacterial hand cleanser stuff, and I must have hit the dispenser too hard, because it squirted all crazy like all over my pants. WTF? That stuff gets to be cold feeling too. Luckily it dries fast and seems to be stain free. Unlike mustard pee.
boom
shakka
lakka
That was my pre-edit message. Right there. Right above this paragraph. It kinda tickled me, so I left it in all it's random glory. Ahhh, so lovely.
I was so excited to log into MySpace today and see I could win my very own pair of free Nike Wafflo Boots! Holy shit those are butt ugly! Go ahead, look 'em up, I'll wait here for you. They look so appropriate for those days when I go running on freezing ass, snow covered trails, dressed like Luke Skywalker on Hoth, and need some fake ass fur to camoflage part of my leg, so I can get shot by someone thinking they saw a couple of wild white ferrets running by.
I just saw I had 2007 views to my blog...freaky huh? It's like 2007...right...now! Yeah, freaky, not so much, but neat anyhow!
Alright, I thought I would have more to say, but I think I'm just too tired right now. Not really tired, more like fatigued and semi-brain dead from work. So, I think I'm going to make myself a too strong martini, pre-treat the mustard pee out of my shirt, take a lovely hot bath, and read or something. Then, I'll be all set to stay up too late tonight! Sweet!

Flibbertygibbet

I went to go visit my mom last week. I actually had a really good time. Something good is going on with her, and we seem to getting on much better.
Anyhow, while down there, one of the most panic stricken experiences in my existence occurred. Seriously. The following all happened within 10 seconds I would say. Maybe even less.
We were getting ready to go somewhere, so I was in the guest room changing clothes. I was putting my belt on, when I hear this really loud mechanical noise. At first I didn't think too much of it, it sounded like a garbage disposal or vacuum or something mundane like that. Then I hear my mom and Ginger saying, "Dakota?!". Oh crap, what's he--, I'm thinking. The noise gets louder and there's some thumping noises. Then I hear Dakota let out this loud scream.
It's very strange. I've been in situations where I've been frightened, close to panic, mostly for my own safety. But this was totally different. When you hear your kid scream, something happens to you. It was like an explosion went off inside my head. One moment I am a normal thinking person, the next, the adrenaline bomb has been dropped, and the way you think is different. The way time moves is different. Everything seems clarified, but fuzzy at the same time.
Aggh! I think I actually said that too...Agggh! I realize I am still trying to thread my belt into the belt loops, and it's impeding my thought process, so I pull the belt out in one very graceful move and throw that fucker as far as I can while yelling, "Where are you?". I take a few steps in one direction, towards the kitchen, sounded like a garbage disposal remember? But that's not the way. Thank goodness may I add. So, I turn around and run toward my mom's room, which is where I finally ascertained the sound was coming from.
I beat my mom and Ginger to Dakota by a good 5 seconds. He staggered into my view and he looked so freaked out. I can't remember exactly what I said, though I think it was a combination of, "AgghWhatdidyoudoareyouok?!" He said he was ok, but still looked shell-shocked. I gave him a big hug, and that's when time went back to normal and I noticed that I was shaking like a leaf.
I am still hearing that god-awful noise and I see my mom's new treadmill is going at mach 3. He points at it, and says, "I couldn't get it to stop!". I turn the thing off and notice a big hole in the wall. I say something along the lines of. "Holy shit". He then bursts into tears. I asked him if he was crying because he was scared or hurt, and he said it was because he was hurt.
I try to joke him out of the crying, commenting on the hole in the wall and such. He gamely smiled, but no stoppage on the tears. Then I try to get him to take off his shirt so I can see the damage. His elbow is pretty banged up, it looks swollen and has serious road rash. I figure this is what lead the way through the wall. (Luckily it was a wall to the closet, so it was just drywall with nothing behind really) Once I get his shirt off....ouch. He has this huge raspberry road rash burn on his shoulder and back, his shirt is actually ripped, the graphic is melted in some spots, and he has random scratches on his lower back and feet.
We get him laid out on the bed and ice him up. He is just kind of laying there quietly which is so unlike him. We actually started giving him the concussion/ head trauma tests. What day is it? What's your middle name? How many fingers am I holding up? Etc. Once we figured he was ok, we just asked him silly questions to get him...and ourselves giggling if possible. After about 30 minutes though, he seems to be regaining his Dakota-ness.
I found my belt later about 15 feet from where I threw it. That was a good toss. :)
Today he's totally fine, his road rashes are all scabby and healing up nicely. He also learned a lesson, which is, don't go touching peoples stuff by yourself, when they told you they would show you how to use it in a minute. Which is good, because he really was not getting that one. :p Obviously dahlink.
I think I at least know now that I would react ok in a panic type situation. It took me a second to get my brain running in the right direction, but it did go. That's good to know.
Anyhow, not much else has been going on in the world of Jenn. I'm reading Shogun right now, which is a great book by the way. This is my second time through it. I need to get a new copy, cause this one is ragged, and the print goes almost into the middle seam, so it's difficult at times to read the last words on the left page and the first ones on the right.
So, I'm out for today. See you on another random day I am quite sure.
Oh yeah, Happy V-Day yo!

Thank God for Turnip Greens

Ok, first off, the title. I was listening to music today in the car, and at the end of the song it says...'Thank god for good directions....and turnip greens.' That just killed me. It seemed so random. The song is about a country kind of guy, who is at work, when a city girl comes by and asks for directions to the interstate. So, he gives her directions. As she is driving off, he is kicking himself for not getting her name/number, and like any happy ending country song, she comes back. All very sweet. Of course when I heard it later, at the very beginning it mentions he is selling turnip greens from his truck, (and eating a pork rind?!) but still, turnip greens are good, so I thank god for 'em anyhow. I do like collard greens better I think...what's the difference? They do taste a lil' different. What exactly is a collard? I don't think it's another name for turnip anyhow.
There's a guy at Dakota's school...well, actually it's one of the kids dads that I see almost everyday. We don't talk or anything, just do the polite wave and "heyhowareya" thing. Anyhow, I always thought he looked like an overweight Tony Danza. Over the summer he must have went on some radical diet, because he now looks like a skinny Tony Danza. His hair is really unhealthy looking, so, I wonder what exactly he did to himself or contracted. Just something I have been pondering.
So, I was driving back home after picking up Dakota from school and guess what happened? Seriously, I want you to guess before you just go ploughing on through the reading. Was I attacked by a deranged clown on a unicycle? No, but that would have been noteworthy. Abducted by aliens? Nope. See, now that makes what I am about to say seem so mundane. Oh well.
Anyhow! I was driving home, and I realize that my foot hadn't moved off the gas pedal but I was slowing down anyway. I watched the speedometer drop from 37 to 30, to 25, to 20, to ack! 15...then I hit my hazards and hoped no one got really pissed at me. I hit the gas and it revs up like I'm gonna zoom off to outer space and the car just does a big -chunk- move. It's like when people first learn how to drive clutch and don't know how to do it yet. Oh yeah, it's the transmission.
I call Bob and he says to just try to get to the gas station and get some fluid for it. I was already heading there, but the fluid was a good idea. I limp into the gas station and get some automatic transmission fluid, and pour it in there. The stinkin' thing doesn't want to change from reverse to drive or drive to reverse or move at all at any rate. I manage to get it most of the way home, when I look at the speedometer and see I am going 2.5 miles per hour and there's a line of cars building up behind me. I am pumping that gas pedal like there's no tomorrow, but all I am getting is VROOOOOOO, with no M to complete the move. I pull out to a side road and try to gain some momentum to finish off the drive. Finally I end up in my parking lot, but it won't go anymore. I get out and start pushing. : ( One of the maintenance guys sees me, and offers to help me push it to a parking spot. : D Yay! It's parked and I am finally home...about an hour after I left work.
Anyhow, something is leaking...a lot. I really hope it is a seal, or some tubing, or a filter or some other 59 cent item. I really hope it is not totally screwed. And you know I just paid it off! Gah!
Welp, the tow truck guy just came and picked up the sick Neon. There is a trail of car blood behind it. It was a vicious scene. All this made me realize how much I love and depend on my little Neon of loveliness. I miss it already.
Anyhow, I wanted to give you some funny anecdotes of work-life recently, but that will have to wait a bit. I think I am all typed out for now.
I think I have said this before, but, I will try to be a bit more responsible with my blogging. No more hit or miss binging and vomiting of a billion words. I will try to type in moderation in a more reliable fashion. It's harder to get back up on that blog wagon when you have fallen off than I thought!
See you later kiddos, love ya lots!