Bend over and Smile

Luminous and spheroid, his grin is maniacal the last couple of evenings and I am quickly reminded why I try to avoid most humans during the full moon.

The effects of the full moon are actually very well proven, behaviors are erratic in people that would otherwise act 'normally' or at least they wouldn't be so obnoxious that they'd be under my radar and ridicule.

Crazies will go out of their way to out-do their regular behaviors during the full moon.

While making an order at a well known fast food restaurant (yummm Frosties) the manager on duty was haranguing her pitiful underpaid and unimpressed employees.
"What the Hell is wrong with you, I told you that you need 4 buns for this order. Why are you using so much mustard, why are you so stupid, can't you get anything right, do I have to keep showing you over and over again..."

I stood there at the counter listening and witnessing this browbeating, the manager (a diminutive 40 something) was standing right on top of a young Latina woman while she was trying to prepare these sandwiches.

My first thought was, which I naturally said out loud - "Who the fuck is that and why would anyone stand for this mistreatment? if you MUST work in food service because there are no other jobs...McDonald's is hiring next door!"

Leave it to me (and if the man is with me) to start stirring the pot when the pot is already boiling.
The cashier is fit to be tied and she's hoping that our order will be processed quickly and we will move on because now we're drawing attention to this dreadful woman. Praying that it all ends soon so that she won't come and start criticizing her work at the drawer and will instead continue her attack on the kitchen workers.

Hubby orders a side salad, one of the employees brings it out and from the back the manager looks up to the order board and says, "did anyone get that salad?!" in a shrill voice.

So husband says, "Yah someone got it, but there's only FOUR cucumber slices in there and I said NO TOMATO!"

you missed me ...I know I know

I needed a minute to catch my breath - literally.
The night before last we decided to give our 'new' smoker a whirl and ever since this I've been suffering the consequences. The combination of mesquite smoke, charcoal briquettes and the rest of the neighborhood bbq'ing their own meals for the long holiday weekend has left an accumulated hazardous haze hanging overhead.
The delectable soot has settled heavily into my already damaged lungs and I'm gasping anew. In between every delicious chomp into a turkey dinner I'm rewarded with a wheeze or a cough.
My green eyes are rimmed in red, the lids puffy and irritated.
when I take a breath, its a gasp like a fish out of water takes - a gulp and swallow...which I even follow up with a yawn (the obvious sign that one is lacking in oxygen).

too bad we don't get our oxygen absorption in other ways because this breathing shit is a lot of work!

sleep tight...you know the saying..

Tingling eerie itchy crawly icky - that's how you'll feel imagining a swarm of bees surrounding you. Bees don't leave you with an unpleasant feeling? maybe instead a legion of mosquitoes to feast upon your flesh? an army of dragonflies zipping to and fro, bombs away!

This is the scene that I came upon today while trying to make a surprise visit to a friend's apartment. YEEGADS, the management said they were pet-friendly but this is going overboard! Seeing a pair of people suit-up in beekeeper suits and a swarm of buzzing bullies made my choice to turn tail and skedaddle when she didn't answer the door very easy.

I don't particularly like bugs, insects or whatever fancy name your going to give them - 'cuz I know SOMEONE is going to read this and say, "oh you can't call spiders a bug". hey, guess what? screw you! I don't care! This isn't National Geographic or Animal Planet or something, alright?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not afraid of them, I'm just cautious around the majority of them and generally not over-eager to befriend and take out for a night on the town. Pretty much any bug that comes into contact with me has determined that I am tasty. Yup, it's true - people taste like chicken. Me on the other hand, I taste like gourmet chicken.

This goes back, way way way back to my years in Huggies. Actually I am pretty excited to say that my memories of cloth diapers are still intact, Mmmmmm the cotton soft and breathable on my smooth baby behind. You know that I bet there would be a lot less irritable babies in stores, movies and restaurants if parents would get them out of those trash bags they call diapers and put something more absorbent on their tushka's.

Imagine sitting in your own shit N piss for who knows how long just festerin'?!? It works like one of those jogging suits that are supposed to make you sweat off the pounds. Baby is stewing in their offal, they cry and what does the mom do? stuffs sweets in the child's mouth and wags a meaty fist at them to shut up all the while everyone around them suffers watching poor parenting and the rotten childhood they are experiencing...( I digress)

This goes back...way way way back to my years in cloth diapers and I was hospitalized for an illness called Purpura. Now I've been told that there was a catalyst which was a rather large ugly garden spider which had bitten me. The allergic reaction was rapid, my mouth/throat closed and I was blue in the face - my little baby hands, fingers and toes; all of it swelling and I was rushed to the ER where I would remain and then become a sojourner for quite a bit of time.

Later on down the line when I was around 6 or 7, my virginity was taken by a mosquito. Enough blood was spilled to need a clean-up crew and my mother was left to perform some form of nurturing that required her BIC lighter, a heavy duty sewing needle, a bottle of peroxide, some cotton pads and my father to hold me down. The bite had manifested into a bulbous dangling teardrop shaped bag of puss that she was determined to lance.

It has to, she explained, because I couldn't even get my foot into my sandals without tearing the blister open and I would have screamed bloody murder if I'd done that on my own. Plus it wouldn't have been very sanitary, her way would have been clean and she could ascertain there wasn't anything else going on. (her own crazy morbidity).

NUTS the things you can remember! I do remember my dad pinning me down, and he wasn't a small man by any means but it took almost every ounce of his strength because I was a hell-cat. My one free leg swinging around like a metronome, nearly glancing off his nose several times.

Watching her heat that needle up with her lighter just terrified me, the same lighter that I'd seen her use day in and day out to light those fucking cigarettes that I despised. (how could this possibly be sanitary when her smoking was so disgusting and filthy!)

Bugs have caused all sorts of crazy problems for me. when I was campaigning one of our favorite blue-eyed boys I had a run in with a bizarro looking beetle. Well he didn't bite me, amazingly enough, but he still inflicted damage because I busted my foot in my efforts to escape him! YIKES RUN FROM THE SCARY HARMLESS BEETLE!

A Few summers ago while traveling I-35 and trying to have a romantic tryst with the husband while he was so far from home (career change meant physical displacement from the home front), we stayed at a rather new and agreeable chain of hotels that we like to frequent. Even going as far as getting the upgrade and getting the JAAAH CUUUZIIII (for those that don't speak sexy lingo that's Jacuzzi).

The morning after, radiant and relaxed we washed and were readying ourselves to have lunch when we both noticed not only did we have itchy spots but I actually had several irritated marks on my nose..

son of a bitch..I'm not kidding here. the place had bed bugs. I was dined upon in my sleep by bed bugs. Do you have any clue how gross that is and what kind of paranoia I've suffered ever since?! holy shit, I bring my own pillows, I keep everything up off the ground, I bring sprays and douse the beds and pretty much now I don't even want to go anywhere because C'mon! this was a brand new hotel!

It was however, a brand new hotel in an area that's heavy into trucking and moving critters like chickens and pigs so more than likely we just got really unlucky. We have traveled and hoteled a lot over the years and nothing this nasty has happened in the past and we've hoteled at far worse.

(just let it go...deep breath in...and relax)

sleep tight...don't let the bedbugs bite

have you ever noticed...

The hottest (or coldest) of days will be the one's that you have the day off of work to spend with your loved ones? However, they are just too frickin' uncomfortable to desire anything but drinks, rest, movies in bed, snuggling the kitties, and snacks in bed!

Car windows are now thankfully tinted with some form of UV protection barrier! Remember when you sat down, your shorts riding up your crack, and you were instantly scalded and the impression of the seats seam branded on your butt cheeks?

These days I have to wait a few minutes before actually sitting in the car and taking off to my destinations or the accumulated heat snatches the breath right out of me.
When we're going to go somewhere I'll have the man go out and turn the A/C on and get the car ready, almost like the old days up 'North' when we would have to warm the car up in the dead of winter....now we have to cool the car off just to take a drive.
A friend says today, driving in this heat without A/C is like turning on a blow-dryer and just keeping it right on your face!

Today, we went on one of those hot escapades to find the ultimate burger (one of the handful of menu items favored by man). Yep, in the heat we headed out in the buggy wearing our holiday best.

(okay I'm bullshitting you I had a "Bad Kitty" t-shirt on but it was BLING BLING! and Tom had on a gross old T-shirt that had bleach stains on it)

There's this tasty little greasy spoon we like to frequent, sort of out of the way but not too far off the trail. You wouldn't know it's there unless you were a local and I wouldn't go tripping into the joint except they had a great billboard down a piece extolling these delicious ground beef patties.
From the very first visit and every visit thereafter we are always greeted with 'HowY'all's!?!
feels equivalent to the cheer of "Norm!" from Cheers'.

Have you ever noticed that no matter if the meal is/isn't gourmet and if you are/aren't all gussied up that there is still something special about getting out of the house and letting someone else bring you a plate that you didn't have to prepare yourself?

insatiable

It started out a pale, cold and unattractive carcass but I coaxed it into a tasty meal.

Inventiveness is a necessity in my home when it comes to mealtime. First off the husband contributes nothing along the means of ideas for foods because if he had his way he would pretty much be happy with the same list of options on the menu forever.

To spice up his days he wants to go out to the drive-through for an $0.89 chicken taco. A double cheeseburger and fries are next in line and you can't go wrong with buffet Chinese.

My contributions to our household are meager, at least in the financial area. I do not work, my physical, emotional and mental health keep me from sustaining long term employment. Perhaps even if I did gain employment I would probably be released quickly for insubordination, to Hell with anyone telling me what to do or not to do!

Since THIS is my job (Domestic Goddess) I am left feeling strained, discomforted, easily bruised and under extreme pressure because I do not have assistants. Sure, yes I recognize this is ridiculous and that other house-frau just go on about their lives and have the same household struggles but they have outlets for their frustrations and creativity.

Not only is my creativity IN domesticity but it is also my chore. I don't have anything or anywhere else to funnel this deluge of zeal.

I'm pushed to achieve (by myself) and I only expect to fail. Therefore I put so many expectations into my concoctions...

which brings me to the insatiable.


the bird, the tasty bird.

I've given you a cool bath, turning the faucet on low and the pressure just quick enough that a rush of water runs over my fingers sluicing away the packaged juices. My fingers enter your cavity, extracting a neck and some globulous fat that I tear and discard to a dish for the beggars waiting at my feet.

Out I pull you from the pool and give you a gentle slap and hang you upside down, letting any final droplets dribble out before I lay you onto the cutting board.


Now the question is, how shall I prepare you? He doesn't care, I could just hack you to bits and then toss every boneless piece in a pan and then put into tortillas with lettuce/onion/cheese for instant home-prepared chicken-taco's. (he's certain to have a stash of TacoBell sauce hiding around here somewhere)

Let's go along that theme though and give you that south of the border hint of flavor.


With the gentle hand of a lover, I lavish cumin, paprika, cayenne, ancho and chipotle into flesh and under the skin. Taking handfuls of fresh pico da gallo and with my fingers, lift the skin from the breast and insert in-between. Stuffing into her chest cavity as well and then place her into a bath of chicken stock flavored with additional spices and fresh cracked pepper!

You will simmer, as if you are in a hot tub - relaxing my darling; because soon you will be shredded to bits and I will treat you like the puta you are!



my stomach growls and our hunger grows.

Dinner waits and my need to gratify is insatiable.