|I had to go to Walmart the other day to pick up a few things I needed and took my cart over to the checkout lanes when I finished. Of course, all of the lines were extremely long so I just settled into line behind a little old lady that closely resembled my late Granny.
"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I don't know how these people can get away with charging 3 dollars for a loaf of bread. I'm just a little old lady on a fixed income and I can't afford these prices. I stayed at home my whole life caring for my husband and my children only to be left nearly penniless by some fat cat insurance company in New York. Health Care reform, I think that's what they are calling it. A thousand dollars a month for health insurance, who would pay that? I was hoping to have an easier time in my Golden Years and now I can barely afford food for me and my handicapped son. I had to leave him out in the car because I upset him when I get to complaining about these prices. I don't mean to, but I'm doing the best I can."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. I felt sorry for the lady, I really did. Times are tough all over. I knew exactly how that lady felt about those astronomical premiums, I've been paying them myself.
It was finally her turn to begin placing her items up on the register belt and she began talking to the cashier and pointing to me in a friendly manner. I wasn't really paying attention to what they were talking about. I had just discovered a copy of The Global Wacko News that had Tim Ruse on the cover saying that he was the reincarnation of Lon R Cupboard and was trying to convert the world into his new class of Cosmetology that would be opening new centers worldwide whenever he had another hit movie and earned enough money to do so. (Good luck with that.)
The little old lady kept gesturing and smiling at me. I didn't want to be rude so I gave a little half-smile and nodded in agreement to whatever they were so animated about. You know what I'm talking about. When somebody tells a joke and you laugh along anyway even though you don't get it.
By now, there was enough space on the belt for me to begin placing my purchases alongside the lady's items. My first item was a huge 16-roll pack of toilet paper that was on sale and it separated my things from hers. It also separated me from her as she gave another wave and headed out the door.
"That was awfully nice of you," said the cashier. "Your Great Aunt said you was going to pay for her groceries. That will be $88.32."
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
|A while back I mentioned my concern about going to a concert because of the size of the seats. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime events that you are lucky to see once in your lifetime. It was an Eric Clapton concert and was opened by that guy that plays all of the CSI drama theme songs. (Who are you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, I really wanna know.)
Anyhow, I had decided to let this story die. There was going to be no further mention of it except at my family gatherings where we could all sit around and laugh about it. Until today...
As I was led to the back of the office to meet with my doctor one of the nurses started looking at me all excitedly, shaking her finger at me. "I saw you, where was it? Oh, yeah! It was at the Eric Clapton concert."
Oh, shit. Somebody outside the family knows what happened.
"Well, did you see me leave?" I replied.
"Why did you leave?"
"Well, the seats were a little snug and they wouldn't let us stand up at the top because the show was sold out. I wasn't very comfortable in my seat."
"You didn't have to sit beside that really large man, did you?"
"Yep. When the fat guy has to sit beside another fat guy, something's gotta give and it's usually the seat he's sitting in. His chair gave out and he spilled his beer all over my seat when I had left to visit the facilities. By that time, we were over everybody and their beers, we were bored, so we just left. We heard Eric sing one song."
"Wow! That stinks."
"Did he sing, Layla?"
"Did he sing, Tears in Heaven?"
"He didn't. What did he sing?"
"I'm not really sure. I didn't recognize most of the songs and we were kind of bored too. You probably didn't miss much. We thought about leaving, but I think the same guy that spilled beer on your chair was moved to the end of the row where we were sitting. It would have been hard to get past him and I bet it was hard sitting beside him. Anyway, hope you feel better."
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
|The following conversation took place a few days ago when Brother, Mom and Me met for dinner to celebrate her birthday. I won't tell you which one of us is which party, I'll let the conversation speak for itself.
Ind: Ha! I was busting your buddies' chops the other day about the Health Care vote. They were like all gloom and doom and that America was going to hell.
Reb: They're probably right. Obama and that Pelosi chick are gonna be the death of all of us freedom loving Americans.
Dem: I would have thought, heaven forbid, that you of all people would want reform. You got about every preexisting condition there is and even some that haven't been invented yet.
Ind: That's true.
Reb: Well, somebody needs to stand up and make these people start paying for some of these government programs. It's going to cost 44 quadrillion dollars, that's almost a googol, before we're debt free.
Ind: Google? Google is named after a number?
Dem: I don't know, but A googol is a number with a 100 zeros behind it.
Ind: Oh. It's not going to cost that much. Well, if you're so worried about the cost, what about the cost of the wars that we are fighting on two fronts? Isn't that costing a billion dollars a month? How are we paying for that?
Dem: Yeah, how are we paying for that?
Rep: I don't know but I think Halliburton has got something to do with it.
Ind: You're probably right.
Dem: I know that's true. It's probably not going to affect me too much.
Rep: That's what you think. You're going to be getting a $250 check for your Medicare supplemental insurance.
Dem: Oh, goody!
Rep: I wouldn't get too excited about it. They're doing away with the plan or something.
Dem: Oh, crap! I hope they don't go messing with my prescription drugs. I'm still trying to figure out the last program that Bush put into place. I wasn't a big fan of his but I remember he got us two refund checks of $600. That's what I call stimulus money.
Rep: Yeah, one of those checks would be nice right now. But, this reform is Socialism, pure and simple.
Ind: I could do with one of those checks too. What's wrong with Socialism?
Rep: Well, how about a tax rate of 50% for starters?
Dem: Wow, that much?
Rep: YES, that much!
Ind: I don't know. I don't think that would affect us too much.
Dem & Rep: Why?
Ind: Well, they gave all of the stimulus money to the fat cats in business and we're all unemployed anyway. What's 50% of nothing?
Dem & Rep: True.
Ind: And furthermore, it doesn't matter what the cost is, because, according to the Mayans, the world is ending in 2012, anyway.
Rep: You're wacko.
Dem: I think your brother is right. You spend way too much time on that computer...
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
|...I walked over to where she was sitting on the tailgate and cautiously lowered myself to the tailgate. She was big, I was bigger and it was an itty bitty old Datsun truck. We bounced once or twice from the recoil of the shocks and gave a hearty chuckle and remarked that we could both lose a few pounds. I noticed that she was putting her note cards away from where she had been writing earlier. I couldn't resist so I asked, "What are you writing?"
"I'm doing my Bible work for the Sabbath tomorrow." she said.
Since the day was only Friday, and knowing that I had been raised to believe that the Sabbath was on Sunday, it was only natural for me to be curious as to why she thought the Sabbath was on Saturday, right? So, before I knew any better, I started asking questions.
"Are you Mormon?"
"Seventh Day Adventist?" I questioned.
Before you could say, Oh brother, where art thou, I was cornered. The daughter and son-in-law had come around on the other side of me carrying different sorts of books, pamphlets and cards. The grandmother moved in from the other side and had a black box containing audio cassettes that she was giving away. I glanced toward the mother and she whipped out a brochure that had the screaming headline, "Apocalyptic insurance needed now. Are you insured? The end is near."
I listened politely and accepted the literature. She told me that I could read it or pass it on. I'm not really into doomsday prognostications, and I don't believe in scaring people to death. However, my mother raised me to be polite and I will not and do not slam the door in people's faces even if we are sitting in the back of a truck.
I wasn't cornered for very long because interest in our tables had suddenly picked up. After all, we were all there to make a little money. As the day wore on, the mother mentioned others in her family and how well they did financially. Specifically, her brother and how much he was able to tithe to the church. She said she tithed what she could but felt ashamed that she couldn't do more. Her mother had just walked back over to join us and had overheard her last statement. "What are you talking about?" she said. "Your brother just gives money, he isn't out here in the streets witnessing to people. You remember this, salvation isn't just measured by the amount or size of your tithe."
I believe that holds true no matter what you believe, don't you?
Friday, March 19, 2010
|Since spring is finally here, and with it, the advent of warmer temperatures and the unofficial beginning of yard sale season, it was no surprise that I decided to celebrate the Fred Sanford in me by participating in my first flea market of the year. I have junk, I love junk and I like to sell junk. Normally, I like to have a yard sale at my house, but during one of my recent undercover assignments I discovered a flea market, where, for a small table fee you can bring your own stuff to sell. I immediately liked the idea of this--no hauling and setting up of the tables from the basement to the front yard which can really be quite a task for one person. I also didn't have to worry about the amount of junk I wanted to sell--whatever fit in the Mustang was what was going to the flea market with me.
I had done everything the night before except pack a lunch to take with me. I did that early the next morning and I was out the door by 7:30 AM. Now, depending on where you are from, 7:30 AM can be early, right on time, or why bother going. I almost fit into the why bother going category because when I pulled into the parking lot 45 minutes later the place was packed. I was beginning to panic because I had driven almost around the dealer area and there wasn't a table to be had. I found a spot in the very back row between a guy that makes signs and license plates for folks (Jim Bob loves Sue Ellen) and a group of people that had about 5 or 6 tables filled with everything but the kitchen sink. (They did have a blue bathroom sink that they were trying to sell.)
I spent a half hour frantically setting up my table, moving things here and there, doing my best to get everything set up just right. It was close to 9:00 before I started to calm down and sent Mom a text telling her that I had almost blown it by hitting the snooze button one too many times. Not long after, I made my first sale of the day (a box of books for 5 bucks) and started to notice the dealers around me. It wasn't hard to notice the guy selling license plates because his equipment was hooked up to a generator that ran the entire time he was there. (HUH?) (WHADDYA SAY?)(NO, I DON'T NEED A LICENSE PLATE now, maybe later.) (The generator ran out of gas as I was making that last statement.)
The group on the right of me consisted of 3 women and a Hispanic male and took turns conversing in English and Spanish. It turned out that they were grandmother, mother, daughter and son-in-law and they had been flea marketing for years. I inquired to the mother if she was a writer because she kept writing on these note cards. "No, I'm not, but my son-in-law is. I see you didn't bring a chair with you, you're welcome to sit on my tailgate with me..."
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
|I got into a fight the other day, with myself. I'm beginning to lose my winter coat and my hair is falling out in bunches and causing the tub to drain slowly. I'm really not sure what I'm less fond of: standing ankle-deep in water in the shower or plucking wet hair from the drain.
I turned the water on and noticed a small amount of hair that hadn't washed down the drain so I bent down and picked it up with the intention of throwing it in the trash. I gave a small flip of the wrist and nothing. I flicked my hand the second time and still nothing. The hair hadn't budged a bit. I grabbed the hair with my other hand and tried to flip it in the trash. Nothing. I tried to rub off the hair by rubbing it on the side of the waste basket. Nothing again. I flicked, shook, rubbed, pulled and still nothing. That damn hair wasn't going anywhere.
I stopped for a moment, collected myself, and decided to try another route. Hmm, I thought, what else can I try? The hairdryer was easily accessible, so I grabbed it and turned it to blow the hair into the trash. Of course, the hair was blown directly to the floor and I stepped on it while trying to see where it had gone. Yep, the wet hair was now stuck to the bottom of my feet.
Let go, already, will you? Jeesh!
I proceeded to stick my left foot out and give it a good shake three or four times. Nothing. I grabbed the blow dryer again and aimed for my feet. It blew off, I grabbed it off the floor and slung it in the trash. Finally!
Since I had fought this great battle with the hair and won, it had put me a little behind schedule in meeting up with Friend for a girl's night out at the Waffle House. I thought I was being cool telling her about my win over the wet hair and she was nodding in agreement the whole time. "Wow!" she said. "I"m glad you got the hair, but what about the toilet paper that is stuck to the bottom of your shoe and the tags on your new shirt? Are you going to fight with them too?
Thursday, March 11, 2010
|I’m sure you know one. There’s one in every crowd, at every function, standing in line for the restroom and talking wildly with their hands while others around them try to nod politely and act slightly interested. It’s the person that has a comment for everything, an answer for every question and always has to have the last word. They are the know-it-all, the so-called and self-proclaimed Einstein of the group that admittedly draws you in with an intriguing word and has your full and immediate attention. Then you begin to listen, really listen, and with a sardonic chuckle to yourself, you realize that they are actually full of crap.
Are you that person? Maybe, you’ve been a victim of that person? Recently, I was a party involved with one of these people and am still unsure about what actually transpired. My know-it-all was discussing recent celebrity events as if they were an actual participant in the happenings. This is what actually, undeniably, purportedly, seemingly and really did happen, they said. They knew exactly, the who, what, when, and the where, the whole life story and even some of the past life stories. They were large, and in charge, until Charles walked in. You see, they were talking about Charles.
Charles had somehow stumbled into the area where the know-it-all was holding court, lambasting Charles for things that were totally untrue—questioning what was the point of Charles even being in the news. Charles never told where they were from, what they did for a living, or held the hand of every person that wanted to be a celebrity too. Charles isn’t your mentor, your friend, or your wet nurse for that matter. If you had gone a little below the surface, and not just back through the last five events, all of your questions would have been answered. Instead, you chose to spew half-truths, lies and declarations using big words that have absolutely the wrong and incorrect meaning in the context for which you were trying to use them.
Get a dictionary, get a thesaurus, get a life, and get the entire Book of Knowledge, sold on Amazon for $19.99. But whatever you do, get your facts straight. If you are going to be the know-it-all, at least make sure you can back it up.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
|I recently had some free time and went back through the blog archives and realized that I have several unfinished projects. This post will hopefully get everything up to date and help me regain my focus. I'm not making any promises though, I can be a little scatterbrained sometimes.
How you doin' update--I haven't totally forgotten about my New Year resolutions. I'm actually doing really well on all of them except one. Can you guess? All I'm gonna say is I have a fondness for Cadbury Eggs. It's really hard this year because my birthday and Easter are on the same day. If you want my address to send me a birthday/Easter/Cadbury Egg gift just send me an email.
The next update is about the new look of this site. It's a work in progress (I hope) and will be finished at a point somewhere in the future. (Hopefully, sooner, not later)
I am working on my blog roll and if you would like to be included just leave your info in the comments section. It will be added when the new blog makes an appearance.
The last update is the Caption These contest. The winner is Karen from WillOaks Studio with the caption: Yes, I know. I'm beautiful from any and all angles. Why do you doubt that?
Karen will receive the 2010 cat calendar and thanks to everyone that participated.
Meow, take a look at me.
I'm totally cute!
Hope everyone is beginning to thaw out from all of the frozen stuff. We have actually had sunshine and warm temperatures for three days in a row. I better shut up, I don't want to jinx anything.
MA Fat Woman