Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
It Could Only Happen To Me
You just can't make this stuff up. Normally, my visits to use the restroom are uneventful, but in the last week or so that hasn't been the case. In Savannah, I walked in to the men's room, not once, but twice. TWICE. Surely, my head must be up my ass. Of course, one could argue that one time the language on the door was in Italian, but shouldn't I really know the difference between signore and donne. Somewhere, I remember thinking Signourney Weaver and Don Johnson, but now, come to think of it, I don't think they are Italian and why would their names be on a bathroom door. Another day in Savannah, I used the fitness center to complete my walking routine for the day and needed to use the facility right outside the door. In my comings and goings in the five days that I stayed there I never saw another person enter or exit the ladie's restroom. The bathroom consisted of three stalls, one of which was the handicapped stall--no one around so I used that--I heard someone enter but I was checking my email on my phone so I hadn't really noticed if she had exited or not. After a bit, I heard an "ahem" so I finished what I was doing and opened the door. There waiting for the handicapped stall was an elderly lady pushing a walker, frowning slightly. I grimaced to myself and mumbled an apology and left the room. (Note to self: no more using the handicapped stall.) Yesterday at a ladie's luncheon I attended with my sister I excused myself to visit the restroom. My choice of stalls went like this: First stall had somebody else's business in the toilet so I walked on past. Second stall was too small. Third stall was the handicapped stall and I now avoid these. The fourth stall--which was on the side opposite of the other three--had a closed door so I reached for it. It opened freely and there was a lady sitting on the toilet. "Oops, sorry!" I exlaimed, shutting the door as fast as I opened it. Instinctively, I reached for the next closest door (handicapped stall) and quickly tried to reason with myself about what had happened. Outside the door, I heard the sounds of zipping, flushing, a few curse words and finally this: "You would have to pick the stall with the only closed door." "Is the lock broken?" I asked. Nothing. The only other noise I heard was of the outer door opening and closing. Of course, I did check the lock on the door and it functioned properly. I don't know about that lady, but showing my business to anyone that might open an unlocked door is not something that I do on a regular basis, whether checking my phone or not. |
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Want To Meet Me In Person?
Monday, April 13, 2015
What I Did For Brown...Again
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. Recently, I had an unexpected visitor, the UPS man. We have become quite friendly this past year. He had noticed and commented on my mini greenhouses that I raised over a 100 tomato plants from seed in since early March of this year that I planned to take and sell 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." |
Labels:
flashing the ups man,
UPS guy
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Whatcha' Mean You Don't Like Collard Greens
Author's note: For the next few weeks I'm going to be posting several of the humorous essays that were included in my books. I have been invited to return to southern Ohio to participate in National Library Week and will be participating in the local author book fair on April 18 from 1-4 pm at the Peebles, Ohio library. I'm super excited to be participating in this event and if you're in the area please stop by for a chat with me and the rest of my fellow authors. The following story is from Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman: During a recent overnight business trip, I was excited to get to stay in a really nice hotel that offered room service. It was late by the time I finished up my tasks for the day that I didn't really want to venture out anywhere so I ordered room service. The book that was in my room that told the specifics about the hotel and listed the room service menu seemed to be missing a page or two. Somewhere I had read that they offered breakfast as an option but couldn't find any breakfast items listed. I called the front desk and was transferred to a nice lady that worked in the restaurant. The following is our conversation: Me: "I'd like to order room service..." Lady: "Okay, what'll ya have? What'll ya have?" Me: "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?" Lady: "Yes, Ma'am, I said, what'll ya have, what'll ya have?" Me: "I'm not sure. Is this room service, or have I called the Varsity? Lady: "Oh, you must live around here, don'tcha? I like to say that to the traveling folks. Makes 'em think they is at the Varsity, though. Since you is from around here, I'll rephrase my question and ask what would you like to have for dinner?" Me: "I'm not sure. My hotel book only lists options for lunch and late-night dining. It does list a Filet Mignon for $52, but I don't think I'll order that. You got any seafood plates?" Lady: "Yep, we sure do. We got a fried shrimp, French fries and Cole slaw plate for $16, and it's good too." Me: "Okay, I'll get that." (It was good.) I called the front desk in the morning and mentioned that my hotel book was missing a few pages, so when I got back into the room the next night I was hoping to see what other options might be available. They hadn't provided me with the missing menu so I had to call again without knowing what I wanted. Lady: "Room service. What'll ya have, what'll ya have?" Me: "I'd like to order room service, please." Lady: "Sure thing, what'll ya have, what'll ya have?" Me: "I'm not sure. I don't have a complete menu in my room..." Lady: "Lordy, is this the same lady from last night?" Me: "Yep, sure is." Lady: "I told them room cleaners to put you a new book in there, but I guess they didn't. It figures. Well, what'll ya have then, what'll ya in the mood for?" Me: "You got any fried chicken?" Lady: "Fried chicken? Honey, this ain't the Big Chicken, but we do have a three-piece platter with smashed taters and a vegetable." Me: "Sounds goods. What's the vegetable?" Lady: "Why, collard greens, of course. That's the only thing that goes good with chicken." Me: "Hmmm, I don't really like collard greens, you got anything else?" Lady: "Harump! Whatcha' mean, you don't like collard greens? Are ya crazy or somethin'? I thought you said you was from around here?" Me: "I live up in the mountains, but I'm originally from Ohio." Lady: "Oh, I see. You from north of the sweet tea line, (that's my favorite line to describe someone from the north) ain't ya? Well, we ain't got any other vegetables, so I'll send you a double order of taters, okay?" It worked for me since mashed potatoes are my favorite food. The next day during our lunch break we were standing in line at the small cafeteria in the building where our training was taking place. Listed on the daily lunch special were fried chicken, mashed potatoes and a vegetable for only $5.99. "What's the vegetable?" I asked. You know I already knew the answer to that before the lady answered in a familiar voice. "What'll ya have, what'll ya have? It's my first day on the job here and the vegetable of the day is collard greens. Could you believe someone ordered the fried chicken at the hotel last night and said they didn't like collard greens?" |
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Things Only A Southerner Will Understand...Otherwise Known As Southernisms
This was forwarded to me in one of those emails that gets passed around the Internet. I'm guilty of a few of them...
Ya don't start the car; ya crank it. A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road. There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 of them live in the South. There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 of them live in the South, plus a couple no one's seen before. If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite cha. Onced and Twiced are words. It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy! Jawl-P? means Did y'all go to the bathroom? People actually grow, eat and like okra. Fixinto is one word. It means I'm fixing to do that. There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there is supper. Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar. It is referred to as the Wine of the South. Backwards and forwards means I know everything about you. The word jeet is actually a phrase meaning 'Did you eat?' You don't have to wear a watch, because it doesn't matter what time it is, you work until you're done or it's too dark to see. You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH em. Y'all is singular; All y'all is plural. You measure distance in minutes. You switch from heat to A/C in the same day. All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect, or animal. You know what a DAWG is. You carry jumper cables in your car - for your OWN car. You only own five spices: salt, pepper, mustard, Tabasco and ketchup. The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local high school sports and motor sports, and gossip. You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday. You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit a bit warm. You know what a hissy fit is. Going to Wal-Mart is a favorite pastime known as goin Wal-Martin' or off to Wally World. You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good beef stew or chili weather. Fried catfish is the other white meat. We don't need no dang Driver's Ed. If our mama says we can drive, we can drive!!! You understand these jokes and forward them to your Southern friends and those who just wish they were from the SOUTH. |
Labels:
Southernisms
Saturday, April 4, 2015
It's My Birthday!
It's my birthday! Don't forget to send me a card! Buy my book! Or you can leave a comment! Why not do all three? Anyhow, I'll have an extra slice of cake, just for you! Gianetta |
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars...I'll Miss You
One of the first friends that I made when I started blogging was Joe, otherwise known as Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars. Back in the day, circa 2008, blogging was a relatively new thing, and humor blogs, they were extremely hard to find. After an Internet search one day, I stumbled across a website called Humorblogs.com and if you wrote humor this was the site you wanted to be a part of. It took me a few weeks of reading the various other blogs before I left a comment on Crotchety's "Caption This" contest. It was usually an odd picture of some kind and whomever left the best caption won a few Entrecard credits (that used to be the big thing) and the coveted zucchini award (which was very stylish). It was all in good fun. Crotchety Old Man had another blog, too, and that was Diabetes Destroys. I think that was one of the reasons that we connected so well and that was our shared opinion on Diabetes. It does destroy and it had wrecked havoc on Joe for many years. At one point he spent almost an entire year in the hospital and still tried to keep up his blog. When he felt well, his posts were frequent and you always knew when he wasn't feeling up to par because it could be weeks or months before he would post again. But he always came back. Joe stopped blogging a few years ago but we stayed in touch. We spoke on the phone a few times a year and I always called him on his birthday which is April Fool's Day. I thought he was joking with me when he told me that the first time but he wasn't. I had lost his phone number and did a search online hoping to come across it but I found something that I wasn't prepared for: his obituary. He had passed away in October 2014. I hadn't known and it was very upsetting to me. A phone number was listed but I didn't know what to do so I called it anyway. I thought it might be disconnected. A female voice answered and I asked for Joe. She asked who was calling and I told her and she told me the terrible news. Nicole, if you ever read this, I just want you to know that your father was a very funny guy and loved by many in the blogging world. I know he went through a lot but he was always positive and I'm glad I got to be friends and share a few laughs with him along the way. He will not be forgotten. Lastly, and this is for you, Joe: I really believe the Yankees are going to win it all this year. Go Yanks! |
Labels:
Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars,
funny men
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Tough Times...Part 2....Year VI
"I don't know who that woman is, I've never seen her before today and I'm certainly not paying for her groceries," I replied. "Well, Ma'am, she said she knew you. You were being very friendly towards her. Are you running some sort of scam? If you are, you could be charged with shoplifting or as an accessory." "I don't know that woman, and I am not running some sort of scam. Why do you let people walk away without paying for their stuff? You better call security. Where did she go? She's gonna get away with it if we don't go find her. Come on, let's see if she is still in the parking lot." At that moment, the cashier, the security guard, the manager and myself went running outside to see if the lady was still in the parking lot. As we looked over the parking lot the Walmart employees began to look at me suspiciously. They thought I was a part of this lady's scam. All I had been doing was being nice--lending a sympathetic ear. I had been taught to be polite to my elders, and now, I might end up in jail. I really didn't want to go to jail. I know they provide three hots and a cot but I got this thing about confined places. They make me a little edgy. I was surveying the parking lot and there putting the last of her bags into the trunk of her 2013 Cadillac SRX was that nice old lady that was trying to stick me with her grocery bill. The nerve of that woman--telling me such a sob story about her finances, her handicapped son and paying a thousand dollar a month for insurance premiums. I pointed to her car and all of us went running over to where she was parked. "Lady, what are you doing? What are you trying to pull? You almost got me arrested for shoplifting. I've never seen you before today. I didn't want you to think I was being rude, so, I listened while you went on and on about all of your troubles, and here you are driving a Cadillac. Would you kindly tell me and the others here what kind of scam you are trying to pull?" At that, the lady took one look at the cashier, the manager and the security guard and her shoulders just slumped in surrender. She looked past them and began to shuffle her feet as she fought for the words to explain this situation. "I bet you're wondering what this is all about," she said. We all nodded our heads in unison and waited patiently for the answer. "All of that stuff I told you in the store...about my finances, raising my kids, losing everything I had because of those high insurance rates...Well, I was just pulling your leg just like I'm pulling yours now. Gotcha! I told this story last year and I liked it so much, I told it again, with a few updates! Happy April's Fool Day! |
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