Where Do Boogers Come From?

You know they say kids say the darnedest things and after what happened at the grocery store today I'm gonna have to agree with them. I was at Krogritz for my weekly visit and ended up following a young mother and son through the store. He was a cutie and kept asking all sorts of questions: Why are carrots orange? Why do onions make you cry? Why can't I have a bag of Doritos? Why can't I have Lucky Charms? Where does a hotdog come from? What is a sanitary napkin? Why are you saying so many bad words when you see how much it costs? Can I get a few grapes to snack on? Can I ride in the buggy? When are we leaving? And on. And on. And on. I'll have to hand it to the young mother, she kept her cool and answered every question without looking up from her shopping list. Most of the answers were either "No" or "I'll tell you later" and the child seemed satisfied and moved on to the next question. We had made our way through the store and were in the last aisle where the alcohol is displayed. Standing by the beer was a very large man in bib overalls that had been made into shorts, black socks and orange Crocs. He wasn't wearing a shirt under the bibs and the sides were left unsnapped. He had a very big nose and his left index finger was shoved up in it so far that I'm sure it was touching his brain. I know it isn't polite to stare but the sight of that man digging for gold stopped me in my tracks. The young boy was staring too and kept tugging on his mom's sleeve whispering, "Mommy? Mommy?" After what seemed like an eternity the mom looked up from her list and in the direction that her son was pointing. "Mommy, Mommy? Where do boogers come from?" The man having heard the boy's question turned toward us and removed his finger from his nose. He examined his finger and held it out for the boy to see. "The nose, boy. That's where boogers come from. You better teach that fella 'bout them bodily functions, lady or he ain't gonna turn out right." He then took his hand and rubbed it on his chest, clutched his beer and left us standing there in a world of disbelief. The silence was only broken when the young boy turned to his mother and said this: "Mommy, that man was gross! I don't wanna learn about bodily functions if I have to do that."

What I Did For Brown

I'm not big on housecoats, especially this time of year when it is so hot. I don't have central air, I have three window units but only two can be turned on at a time. You can't have the microwave, hair dryer or coffee pot on while more than one unit is running either because that will result in flipping the breaker, which is a bad thing. The breaker box is in the basement which wouldn't be a bad thing if you didn't have to go outside, down the steps, move the pole that holds the two basement doors closed, grope your way through numerous cobwebs, try not to step on the big toad that lives there, work your way past the riding mower that won't budge and hold your breath because of the worm farm that Janie Bell kept down there back in the 50s. (It's a really old house and Janie Bell was one of the characters that used to live here over 50 years ago.) All of this results in taking certain liberties within my own home. Namely, I like to air dry myself when I get out of the shower. Since there is no air conditioning in the bathroom I usually go into the kitchen and stand in front of that unit--which is right beside the door--and which also has another window with a curtain but no shade. The shade on the door is usually open; I like to look outside and watch the seens. Recently, I had an unexpected visitor, the UPS man. He and I have become friendly this past year. He had been admiring my mini greenhouses that I raised over a 100 tomato plants from seed in since March of this year that I took and sold at the flea market. He usually backs the truck down the driveway because there isn't anywhere to turn around out back. I usually hear the truck because they are pretty loud. I don't know if it was the radio blasting, or the window unit roaring, or I just had my head up my ass because I heard a knock at the door and then everything seemed to go in slow motion. I jumped, looked through the shade on the door, saw him, screamed and crossed my arms across my chest. Brown's eyes shot straight up, he stumbled backward and nearly lost his balance and dumped my packages on the chair outside. "Nothing to sign," he said. "Have a nice day." I didn't move, I was too mortified to budge. I had just flashed the UPS guy. Goodness, with my luck, the Jehovah Witnesses will be pulling in next. After the shock wore off, the worry set in: What was his reaction? Will it make things weird between us? Maybe, I do need to wear a housecoat? Later in the evening I was sitting out on the porch when I was surprised to see another UPS truck pull into the driveway. Yep, it was him and he had a package in his hand. Oh crap, what am I going to say to this guy? Before I could say anything this is what he said: "In all of the excitement this morning, I forgot this one, and by the way, nice package."

Sunny Saturday

Hot, ain't it?

Remote Controls

In a world of never-ending electronic gadgetry where a new device is launched on an almost daily basis, many folks are wandering what to do with that ever growing pile of remote controls. I looked over my entertainment center, dug in the cushions of the couch, checked the bedrooms and found the remotes that I use infrequently and those that are used on a more regular basis. I think the best way to explain it all is to list the devices and their respective remotes: Televisions - 3 VCRs (Yes, I still have them)- 3 DVD players - 3 Window Air Conditioners - 2 Ipod docking station - 1 Xbox - 1 Stereos - 2 So, if I am adding correctly I have 15 remotes in my house. That's a lot less than most households, I think. Recently, when we were on vacation the beach house that we rented had 8 remotes, just for the television in the living room. It also had a 10-step procedure that had to be followed in exact order (one step was holding your mouth right) or it wouldn't work and you'd have to start over. I've seen on MTV Cribs or somewhere about those really large remotes that will control everything in the house. Honestly, isn't that the epitome of laziness? Need to get a beer? Press a button! What about taking Fido for a walk? Mash this button! Constipated? Just push the button... I think you get my drift. How many remotes do you have? You do catch my drift, right? Or do I need to press a button??

Burlap Sacks

Friend and I went to an auction the other day in a neighboring town. We didn't realize that we would be spending five hours there; they had a lot of stuff to sell. Anyhow, I've mentioned before that I like to go antiquing, go to yard sales and even sell junk at the flea market. Something that really caught my eye was a table and wall filled with old tools and junk. Of course, all of the men there were totally interested in it too and when it came time to start selling off the tools they all crowded around and wouldn't let me see what was being auctioned. They were doing what is called a choice deal; if you win the bid you get to pick out anything you want for that price and others can do the same. The first winning bid was for twenty dollars; the next was for fifteen and the prices continued to drop until there wasn't much stuff left. When I was able to see what was being sold the only thing left was a big box of burlap sacks. I asked the fella standing there what the price was down to and he said $2.50, so I bought them. I guess there are about 25 sacks in the box and they look and smell like they have been stuck away in the back of a stable for a really long time. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them; they do remind me of growing up on the farm back on Cherry Fork Road. We used burlap sacks in the garden, stored corn for the cattle and they held tobacco plants that were pulled and then set out in the fields with the tobacco setter. I got to looking on eBay and somebody had one sack just like the one below listed for sale for twenty bucks. Can you believe that? ...If you want to give me fifty bucks for one of those sacks I'll throw the shipping in for free!

Early Morning Malfunctions

"Snap!" "Uh, oh, it looks like we've got an early morning malfunction here," said my doctor. "That's what happens when you're the first patient of the day." Now, I don't care if you are my worst enemy, I wouldn't want you to hear those words--especially when you're lying prone, in an unclothed position and you're feet are up in the stirrups. Without being too graphic, the instrument that was supposed to be doing the spreading stopped working; actually it snapped in two pieces and pinched me. Needless to say, it made me jump straight up out of my paper gown. The damn thing was made of plastic. It seems that as a cost cutting measure it is cheaper to buy plastic instruments instead of having someone sterilize the antiquated metal devices. What's next? Open heart surgery with a plastic butter knife... This appointment concluded my week long saga of doctor appointments. I started the week with a root canal and crappy pain drugs and ended with an early morning malfunction. The good news is that I'm years away from my first colonoscopy...

Pain Pills?

Remember that toothache I mentioned a few posts back? Well, it has erupted into a full blown root canal complete with a multi-thousand dollar follow up plan. Can you say ouch? I think somebody is trying to stick it to me...in more than one place. The only thing that kept me going throughout the 4 hour process was the prospect of the pain pills that were mentioned several times. "I'm going to give you some pain meds to ease the throbbing in your jaw, okay?" said my dentist. "Okay," I mumbled through the rubber dental dam. "You'll be feeling great once you start on the painkillers," said the dental assistant. "Cool," was my grimaced reply. After the procedure was completed I was given my prescription and sent on my merry way. I glanced down to see what this wondrous drug was that was going to ease the throbbing that was just beginning to manifest itself since the laughing gas had begun to wear off. It was Motrin! That's right, Motrin! I was hoping for Percocet, or maybe even a Valium, but a prescription for Motrin? I already had that in my medicine cabinet.

Guess Again?

I guess I was more successful than I thought I was in regards to talking to LeBron James. Not only did I convince him to move south--he moved really south, all the way to South Beach. Maybe it will make the NBA a little more interesting? It's been really boring since Michael, Scottie and Dennis retired. I like the Lakers but they really don't have any personality--Showtime, it ain't! I used to love the Celtics when Larry played. Today, they make me want to throw up because they act like a bunch of babies. Shoot, they even got a so called baby that plays for them (Glen Big Baby Davis). I was very surprised too. It was kind of refreshing to see a professional athlete take "less" money to play with his buddies. What's another 30 million bucks when you already have 300 million or more?

My Conversation With LeBron

I've always wanted to be a sportswriter. With the ongoing saga that is the NBA free agency period I wasn't too surprised when I had a dream about LeBron James the other night. I admit it, I'm really into sports--I get Sports Illustrated, ESPN the Magazine and Sports Weekly. I like to watch ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic and every regional sports channel that I get through my local cable company. When all else fails and there isn't anything worth watching on the other channels you'll find me tuned into a rebroadcast of the Ohio State - Michigan football game from 1995. (Go Buckeyes!) I think the dream job would be to host SportsCenter on ESPN. How cool is that? You watch clips of sporting events, make up sayings like "Jeter is as cool as the other side of the pillow" or "Back, back, back, back, back, back, GONE!" or even "Goooaaaalll". I could do that. I did call a few of the local high school's basketball games back when I was on the radio. I do have the voice---the look---not so much! In the dream that I had about LeBron I was trying to convince him to come play for the Atlanta Hawks. (LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLLOLOL) I know, like that is ever going to happen? The Hawks have about as much chance as signing James as I do of hosting SportsCenter. Slim and none! How many MA Fat Women have you seen as sports announcers lately? (My point exactly!) We were also playing a game of Around the World since I had already beaten him at H-O-R-S-E. I'm not sure how that game ended because I woke up from the dream! LeBron will be making his BIG decision, live on ESPN Thursday evening. He's doing it that way so the Boys and Girls Clubs of America can get all of the profits made from the one hour broadcast. How cool is that? Since I won't be hosting the program I'll have to tune in and watch. My bet is that he is staying in Cleveland. Us Ohio folks are like that; we're loyal!

Self Reflecting

Have you missed me? I know I've missed you. I hate to be one of those people--ya know, the one that says I've been really busy. Well, I have been and the blog has suffered. I've managed to get out a few original posts lately but I've relied on some of my past material. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so because I hate to be one of those people that says they are burnt out and can't think of anything to write. Good heavens! I wish I had that problem. I've got so many seens, stories, happenings, and opinions floating around up there that they almost got lost. Some of the happenings that have kept me occupied for the past few months include trying and failing to buy a new house, my birthday, way too many undercover assignments, a two month stint with the Census Bureau, a week of jury duty, fighting with the riding mower, a 25 yr high school reunion, looking for a lost relative, taking square dancing lessons with mom, a tooth ache and a week at the beach. That's it! I think things might have calmed down for awhile. I can now get back to being the MA Fat Woman; although I think I should be known as the MA not so Fat Woman. Did I mention that I've lost some weight!!

Happy Fourth Of July

Orignally published July '08 The scene--Any small town in a state that doesn't allow fireworks, namely Georgia. A guy walks into his local courthouse and asks where he can get a permit. The guard sends him down to the permit office. There is a really long line and only one window open. He admits to himself that this permit thing must be a pretty good idea, 'cause everyone here seems to be getting one. After all, on July 4th, he always hears fireworks going off all over town, so, they must have a permit, right? The man finally reaches the counter after one lunch break, and two smoke breaks and asks the lady about applying for a permit. She pulls out the forms and said that the fee was going to be $500.00. He scratches his head and thought that that sounded like a lot of money. "Ma'am, why does it cost so much to get a permit to let off fireworks," he asked? "Let off fireworks," she said. "Don't you know that is illegal in this state?" The man scratched his head once again and then asked, "What are all of these people here for?" "Sir, this is the tag office," she said. The man, quite confused by this time, looks up and asks, "Where does the city get its permit to let off fireworks for the community each year?" The lady, quite at a loss for words looks up and says, "Wait right here, I'm gonna go get my supervisor." Enjoy your 4th of July wherever you are and remember this: Let the professionals shoot off the fireworks, because they have a permit. Just don't ask to see it.

Can You Guess Again?

What is red, burnt, and has spots all over? Me! I've got a red nose, a sun burned back and more freckles than I can count. I'm still on vacation having a great time! Wish you were here...not really, well, maybe? Let me think on it and I'll get back to you...next week some time! Cheers! MA Fat Woman