I really love this band, Kings of Leon

you've heard it, but here's the words:

I've been roaming around always lookin down at all I see.
Painted faces fill the places I can't reach.
You know that I could use somebody
You know that I could use somebody
Someone like you
And all you know and how you speak
Countless lovers undercover of the street
You know that I could use somebody
You know that I could use somebody
Someone like you

Off in the night while you live it up I'm off to sleep
Waging wars to shake the poet and the beat
I hope it's gonna make you notice
I hope it's gonna make you notice
Someone like me

We Are Open During Working Hours

Really?

I swear I saw that sign yesterday on a gas station. It intrigued me enough to turn in and see who owned the place, under the guise of buying something to drink. I think its a sleeper cell, bringing in their own gas from over where ever, but by God, they are only open during working hours. What else is funny is they had no hours posted on their door.

Moving on. Do you like my new hairstyle? I mean blog look? After I went back and tried to read about the deceased babysitter, the words were so crunched together, I went to the edit lab and I'm going to give this a twirl. AND, my digital camera is in the Best Buy Hospital so when it gets out, you are going to get some RedNeck Photography from moi.
You're welcome.

If anyone reads Pioneer Woman, and wants to see what she (and Marlboro Man) really look like, go to I Should Be Folding Laundry.

She got a shot of them at BlogHer, which I'm beginning to think is too large and too organized and too dainty for this group. BLOGSLUR IT IS! AT CHEZ VEAZEY, in between her multiple vacations.

Now go do the right thing.

LYDr.LauraGetsOnMyNervesGuts,

Bj

My 7 Year Old Version of Weekend at Bernies

I decided one morning, in the second grade, that attending Mrs. Callicott’s class that day did not appeal to me. I remember not really being sick, and looking back the people involved in this story thought it was divine intervention that I ‘played sick’ with the events that played out. I could have probably stayed home alone, or technically thought I could, but when I had any sick days, there was a lady, Mrs Hughes that kept me when I needed a 'personal day'. Super D worked in our hometown at the bank building, which was a highrise of three stories. In the elevator, on a little stool, was one of my favorite people, Mr. Hughes. He sat there and smiled and pushed the right buttons, 1, 2, or 3. It was his wife, Mrs. H, that was my designated caretaker. So Super D drops me off in my pajamas at Mrs. H’s house, along with a dress to change into when I wanted to get out of the pjs. So I’m laying in the floor about 10:30 am, watching Candid Camera (I remember the whole scene like it was yesterday). Mrs H appears from the kitchen and tells me she made a PBJ sandwich and put it on the counter. She was going to stretch out on the sofa and rest. OK. So Candid Camera is over, I get up, and go cruise the kitchen, take a bite out of the PBJ then think I would like to put my dress on. It was a black plaid short sleeve collared straight dress with a little skirt on the bottom. Back then, any zipper in your dress was 85 miles long, and I put the dress on, but of course could not maneuver that zipper. I walk over to Mrs. H, gently shake her arm, and ask her to zip up my dress. I stood there, she didn’t do anything, so I shook her a little more. Nothing. So I walk over to the phone, call my mother, and the only thing I say is “can people sleep with their eyes open?” Super D says no, why?, and I say ‘well Mrs. H is and I wanted her to zip up my dress and she is asleep with her eyes open.’

Yup. Dead. My babysitter is dead on the sofa, and I’m really just wanting my dress zipped up. Of course, I didn’t realize she was DEAD, I thought she was just taking a REALLY good nap. Super D kept her cool, and said “maybe Mrs. H can sleep with her eyes open, just watch tv and I’ll come eat lunch with you.’ Two minutes later, the neighbor, who I knew, came over and took me outside, and an ambulance pulls up and Super D pulls up and my DAD pulls up, and even my little second grader brain was like What the Hell is going on? So, they take Mrs. H out, and Super D takes me in a bedroom to explain what happened.

“Honey, Mrs. H went to heaven while she was taking a nap”.

Me- no she didn’t’ she was on the sofa.

SD- well she went to sleep and died…

me- is she coming back?

SD- no, but we loved her and we will stay close with the family and Mr. H.

So then the whole Hughes clan started showing up, I remember the confusion in the house, and SD taking me home. I said on the way home’ I wasn’t really sick today’ and SD says ‘I know, I was letting you play hooky’………

So, two or three times that week, I wrote a note to Mrs. H. ‘Dear Mrs. H,
Thank you for making me a PBJ on Tuesday when I came over. I would like you to come back next week . I will come over again.
Dear Mrs H. My mom says you are not coming back. But you can if you want to. I will come over and watch tv at your house with you.
Nobody knew about those notes I was writing. I kept them, then one day I tore them up and took them to a vacant lot behind my house and put them under a huge rock. My version of therapy at 7 years.

Then the H family came over with a gift for me. They were hopeful I wasn't scarred for life, but greatful that 78 year old Mr H. didn't come home to find his wife dead. The gift was a baby duck, and I named it Pepe, as in La Pew. I loved that damn duck and he grew into a goose that would chase my friends and scare the shit out of them. That duck rocked.

So did Mrs. H and her PBJ Sandwiches.

LYI'veAlsoBeenChasedByBuffalosGuts,

Bj

Waiting on the Coin to Arrive...

Wow! I am going through the adult equivalent of a fun house, or more like a maze, sifting through the unemployment hoops and loops and go here and file this and whoops, you didn't file last week- (really? I thought I did) and TO THIS DATE I HAVE NOT RECEIVED ONE PENNY FROM THE STATE OF TEXAS. And I started this process exactly 40 days ago...............

note to Le Downunder: I would currently like to "whoop" somebodys ass.

So while I write this, after giving up yesterday, I was just told the approximate wait time for a human is 20 minutes. That is after I called the number for an hour only to get a busy signal. Glad I gave up yesterday because on the ten o'clock news they said there were so many people trying to call in and/or go online the entire system shut down.

Good to know. Meanwhile, I am sitting here listening to bad Musak and little voices giving me info and tips on what to do, what not to do, avoiding scams, etc.

I'm thinking they should be running a Comedy Central audio so when you finally get a person, you are not plotting their demise.

Ok, I'm back from the conversation with 'Herschel'. Sidenote, he sounds like a robot with a mouth full of marbles. He asked me why I had not filed on time..'um-thought I did'. 'No you didn't you were supposed to file on June 17th' 'um sorry' 'What was the reason?' 'don't have one, H, Can you put down blonde or stupid?' ...Silence.....'(me) come on H, that was a joke, laugh with me' ha.ha. ha. marbles moving around sound, and then he puts me on hold. I pray that I don't lose my sparkling conversation with H, my current BFF, to a dropped call.

He's back. 'Ok, I've reset everything and you can go online and send in your requests for payment'. I felt that nervousness about hanging up with him like you have when you hit the 'send' button on a questionable email.... So I say 'and if I have problems, I call back this same number?' 'Yes'. Jesus. AREN'T I SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING FOR A JOB???

So, everything went well online. EXCEPT I forgot to ask H one important question....When do I see the $$$? I can still put together a meal out of the pantry for a while, but the Sled Team is getting nervous about the bag of Rachel Ray Dog food getting low. If it wasn't going to be 105 degrees today, I'd park their asses on a corner with a sign that says 'will shed for food'.....but not quite there......YET.

LYUnemploymentStillSucksGuts,

Bj

Dear Mr. Dyson,

I decided to write you a letter today, because once again, I have blown up yet another Bissell Vacuum Cleaner. I have a few questions for you, if you have a chance to climb off of your big yellow yacht, probably named "Doesn't Suck" and answer them.

Let me preface this story with the fact that I own three dogs. All rescues, so none of your tax money is going to a shelter to house or feed them. I am doing that. You're welcome.

I'm just wondering if the price of your museum quality, one of a kind, best on the market money can buy extremely cool vacuum cleaner will ever come down? You see, I not only rescue dogs, I recently joined 13.7 million sisters and brothers in the vacuum (haha) of layoffs. So you can't blame me for staring at the Pet Hair Dyson at Target today with more lust in my eyes than a 17 year old boy in a backseat could ever have.

Perhaps, there is a scholarship fund available? Or possibly a sample program? Or even a scratch and dent sale, which would have to be equal to the price of these disposable Bissells I'm going through like water.....

DON'T SAY IT PEOPLE!!! I don't have $499 laying around....

LoveYourSuckingGuts,

Bj, aka, Mothership of the Sled Team; Abner, Bella, and Owen

Ode to a Good Dog

We lost a good dog today named Gunner Hankins. It was his time to go chase tennis balls in heaven, but for 15 years he was a really great dog owned by my sister, brother-in-law and their two boys. Gunner came home after a hunting trip, much to my sisters dismay, and he chewed, pooped, and chewed some more all through his puppy years. But when he grew up, he was one of those dogs you wish you had. Always came when called, and he would go out each morning and get the newspaper for my brother in law Tim. One day, Tim stepped back in the house and when he came back, Gunner had gathered up the entire cul-de-sacs newspapers! He was a sweet guy, and everyone in my family will miss him dearly.

As you can see, there is a black lab 'habit' in this family, that is Gabby on the left, Gunners little sister, and Ruby on the right, their cousin. But Gunner ruled the roost.

Hope you find lots of tennis balls in heaven, Gunner.

LYSweetSweetGuts,

Bj