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The first few months Sweet Joshua and I were married were quite precarious. I did not have a job for the first three months we were married, and money was quite tight with just one income. We had just moved into our very first apartment and were trying to adjust to not having a lot of money. When I had to go grocery shopping, it was a little difficult and I had to be creative with money. There was not a lot of money for splurging, so we ate a lot of Hamburger Helper, spaghetti and sloppy joes.
I still to this say cannot even see a box of Hamburger Helper without throwing up a little in my mouth.
I was quite excited one shopping trip to find the Piggly Wiggly (hey......remember....DEEP SOUTH chick here) had pork chops on sale, and I had a little extra money to purchase them. Upon returning to the apartment, I unloaded the car and took my groceries in. I did not have plans to make the pork chops that evening, but rather that weekend, so I really did not notice that my pork chops were MIA.
The next few days were the HOTTEST we had had that summer. It was July and it was brutal. Because I didn't have a job, I didn't really find the need over the next three days to leave the apartment, so my tank sat in the driveway patiently. Friday approached, and my cat, Shelby, had a vet appointment. I put her in the car, and backed out of the driveway.
Driving down Crestview Avenue the smell hit me.
"My God, Shelby......did you fart?"
She just looked up at my from the floorboard of the car. I knew she was not a good car rider, so I thought she had assaulted me in the only way she would (she was a sweet sweet mild cat). Then smell got worse.
"Holy cow!! Did you SHIT in the car, Shelby?"
By the time I hit Trolley Road, I had to pull over and roll down all the windows. I got on the road and could hardly take it. I thought I would throw up (and you know how I feel about vomiting). I was convinced she had crapped in my car.
I made it to her vet's and she went in for her appointment. I left all the windows down to "air" out the car. Upon returning to the car, it was as if the smell had GAINED strength. I mean, this smell could peel paint, y'all. I didn't know what to do, so I went to my Mother's house.
RULE TO ALWAYS REMEMBER: MOM'S HOUSE IS A SAFE HOUSE AND MOM WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE ANSWER.
I arrived at her house and took Shelby inside. Mom wasn't there.
So I had my littlest sister, Erin, come out side and asked her to smell the car (I guess just to see if I was crazy or not - I had searched the thing looking for cat crap and found nothing, so I had to convince myself that I was not just smelling things).
She stuck her head in the car and I thought should would puke.
"What is the fuck is that SMELL??"
"I don't know!!! I thought it was Shelby, but she couldn't have done this!! This is pure concentrated EVIL!!" I said.
We started looking all over the car and that is when I spotted it.....
In the rear window of my car, under the various cow stuffed animals I kept up there (I had this thing about cows at one time), was a Piggly Wiggly bag. I picked up the bag and peeked inside. Inside the bag were my precious pork chops and a bag of mini marshmallows. The car had gotten so hot that it had melted the marshmallows and it now looked like I had purchased a bag of milk. The pork chops were gray and BOY DID THEY STINK!!!! We threw the bag in the neighbor's garbage can (I wouldn't even put them in my parent's can they were so tainted), and had to figure out how to deodorize the car. I must have emptied an entire bottle of perfume in the car.
Sorry Mom for emptying that expensive perfume into the cloth seats of my tank.
It was as if the rotted pork chop molecules had permeated every fiber or the fabric of my car. The smell was over powerful, but over the next couple of weeks, the smell started to dissipate (YES!! I said WEEKS......)
This story never gets old in my family. My sister, Dawn, gave me a squeaky pork chop dog toy for me to hang from my rear view mirror and the story has garnered me A LOT of ribbing.
Yet.........I am still really upset about missing out on eating those chops.
It is enough to drive the most even tempered saint to murder. There are nights I have sat in bed contemplating putting a pillow over his head just to SHUT HIM THE FUCK UP!
But I digress.
He came up with a solution years ago. He bought me a box of earplugs. And not your run of the mill box of earplugs you get from Walgreens. He bought me the 5oo pack of industrial strength earplugs through Uline. That box lasts me about two years.
See, I wear my earplugs more than once. DON'T FREAK OUT!! They are EAR plugs.....not butt plugs, so they are useful and clean until I say they are not. I keep them in a bowl on my side table.
Well, my Ella loves them. She plays with them like they are cat toys (and NO...once she gets hold of them, I don't re-use them....I pitch them). She climbs onto my side table and steals them out of the bowl.
I find them everywhere. When my niece lived with me (when she was three), she ran into the kitchen one day and yelled...."Auntie Amber, Auntie Amber....Ella has a lellow FUNCH!"
"A lellow funch!! She is carrying a lellow funch in her mouth!"
I had NO idea what the fuck she was talking about. A LELLOW FUNCH?? When I saw that Ella had an earplug, I figured out that the yellow earplug was the "lellow funch".
"Why are you calling it a funch?"
"Because it feels like a funch."
"But what is a funch?"
She then pointed at the sponge on the sink.
OH......so funch = sponge? Damn. Kids really need to come with some kind of book or translator or something.
Let's just say the new word stuck.
So like I said, my Ella loves the funches. I find them everywhere.
She plays with them until I find them and throw them away. It upsets her when I throw them away, but DAMN.....THEY ARE EVERYWHERE!! Well, she smartened up (she is a smart fucking cat, yo). She started hiding them.
Well, I found her hiding place.
Yes, I have to clean out underneath the TV every other month just for funches.
This is my dog, Lutz (pronounced Loots). It's German, and he was supposed to be a German Shepherd, but shit....he ain't no shepherd. More like junkyard dog.
But of all the dogs we have owned (and we have owned many), he has been the best.
So this is a transcript of a conversation I had with my husband last week:
Sweet Joshua: Hey, did you buy Lutz a new toy? Me: No, why? SJ: Because he has a nice new toy outside he is playing with.
***I look at him playing with his new toy on the back porch (and not just a new toy, but one that looks expensive)***
Me: Where the hell did that come from? SJ: I have NO clue, that is why I asked you if you bought it. Me: Seriously, Joshua....where did he get it? SJ: I don't know, babe. One of the kids must have accidentally thrown it over the fence. And you know how that is. Once it hits the ground and his mouth, it's his. Me: What if he got out and got it? SJ: What do you mean, got out and got it? Me: You know, what if he dug out of the back yard, stole it and brought it back? SJ: That is so not likely, babe.
Yet.....I found the hole. Apparently he has been getting out, but he always comes back.
Fast forward to this morning.
SJ: Babe....I think Lutz has a girlfriend. Me: What? Why do you say that? SJ: Because he has another new toy. He either has a girlfriend buying him toys or another family trying to woo him away........... Me: OR HE IS STEALING THEM!! SJ: Yes.....or he is stealing them.
In complete disbelief I run downstairs and sure enough, there he is, and there it is. What the hell? The toy even has the tag still attached to it.
So I ask you? Is he a thief....or is he cheating on me?
PS: Digging my pool? Yes....that is a pool, not a pond. When the frogs start getting frisky in the coming months it will turn into a tadpole hatchery. I would get it cleaned, but shit....who the fuck has $500 nowadays? I have to get it done before the frog mating season, because if you wait until they.....uh....spawn? (do frogs spawn, Bio?)....then the place becomes like a froggy Auschwitz.
Every year I try to save them, but every year my husband, aka FROG HITLER, has them exterminated before I can free them all.
Have you ever had the feeling that you are being watched?
Well, I did last week.....while I was working in my office. I got up to take a look at some buzzing I heard and this is what I see:
Damn, where the fuck did he come from? (Please don't mind the shitty wall color and super cheesy wallpaper border....this is the only room in the house we have not renovated. And now we have no money.)
So I go to get the can of wasp spray to kill my intruder when something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention:
WHAT THE HOLY HELL? Where did HE comes from? Well, fucker....you will die the same death as your friend........
And then......just when I am about to spray......
OH MY GOD!!! IT'S AN INVASION!!!
After screaming, running out of the room and slamming the door....I do what any self-respecting woman would do......
I called my husband.
"Joshua!!! There are FIVE WASPS IN MY OFFICE!!!"
"The stinging kind or the Protestant kind?"
Haha......everyone is a fucking comedian.
"Asshole.......COME KILL THEM!!"
"So you want me to come ALL THE WAY HOME to kill some bugs for you....really? Man up and do it yourself."
And I thought....he is right. I am a big girl, so I can kill my own bugs. I mean, they are aggressive, flying, stinging bugs....but bugs nonetheless.
So I put on my big girl panties and went back in for my battle.
And guess what.....
It's the small victories in life that keep me going ma peeps.
me - 1
bugs - 0
Update: The Spirit Phoenix is right (in my comment section). I need to correct the score:
If you ever derive anything from reading this blog, let it be this very simple, get very precious piece of information......NEVER BECOME A LANDLORD!!! It is a thankless job, and even if you are lucky enough to find a renter who will actually pay you for letting them live in your house, they will most likely fuck your house up beyond all repair. Don't believe me? Well, take a gander below.
This was the first house that me Sweet Joshua and I ever purchased. A cute, tiny little abode that was perfect for a starter home. This picture was taken in February 1999.
This is the same house......believe it or not. This picture was taken two weeks ago. It makes me cry everytime I see it. The yard is torn up, the house is just run down.
My renters told me that in leiu of paying rent for a month, they would paint the house. I, stupidly, gave them permission (because believe it or not, the paint will actually slow down the process of wood rot.) BUT......they didn't paint the whole house.
As you can clearly see, they just painted the front and the one side of the house that faced the street. The other side and the back remain the original brown color. REALLY??
Um, and yeah.....looks like someone drove through the front of the house. I mean, I know there USED to be a garage there, but fuck, people......you live there seven years and you don't know when to stop driving? Why should they? I guess they knew they were close enough when they felt the bump and heard the wood cracking. Assholes.
This is the master bedroom. Yeah, really. Just disgusting. How do people live like this? Oh....and just so you know....I actually paid TWICE A YEAR to have someone come in and professionally steam clean the carpets and they still look like this.
This was my living room when I lived there (and don't make fun of the decorating style....I was a 22 year old kid with no money and no decorating sense).
Looking from the living room into the kitchen (notice my Boober cat is sleeping on the couch).
And the other side with the fire place. Again, these were taken in February of 1999.
This is what it looks like now. *sigh*
This was my kitchen in February of 1999 (small but efficient).
And.....here it is now. THEY STOLE THE STOVE!! Hahaha. I mean, what the fuck? Who steals a stove that is probably 45 years old? WHO?? Oh well, I was going to have to replace it anyways.
But really, no home is complete without out the "signature" touch, right? Yeah....they wrote their name on the porch just in case they forgot who lived there.
BUT....the Pièce de résistance was the dirty diaper they left in the front yard.....complete with doodoo.....
Really? I mean, I was unsure that animals like this really existed. WHO LEAVES A SHITTY DIAPER IN THEIR FRONT YARD??? WHO I ASK YOU, WHO????
Well, MY tenants do. Right after you evict them. Right after they ask what they can do fix the problem and I tell them they can fuck off and die.
This, people, is why I am uber sensitive when people complain about their landlords. You may have the landlord from hell, but maybe....JUST MAYBE they were really awesome in another life and thought they were helping people out by providing a place for someone to live that is not an apartment and someone shit on them repeatedly.
This is one of the reasons I am a cranky, untrusting, unreasonable person now.
This was the third renter we had in this house.
The first renter sued me. He was running drugs out of my house, got shot during a drug deal and then sued me for not providing him with a "safe environment to live in". Yeah, really. Oh, and he not only lost his case, but had his ass handed to him.
My second renter moved into my house under the guise of painting it (he was a painting contractor). I went to the house after giving him the keys to get in and paint it and when I pulled up to the house I found that he had moved his family into my house. Yes, windchimes on the porch and everything. I called the cops and they escorted ME off the property (which might have been due to me telling him I was going to kill him). The cops told me that because the electric company had turned on the lights in his name and I GAVE him the keys, he was legally a renter and I would have to evict him.
So I signed a lease with him. He paid one month's rent, then stopped. It took me 3 months to get the fucker out and in the process he did over $7000 damage to my property.
By then, I had no money to fix the house to sell it. So I moved another renter in.
She was good for SEVEN YEARS. Then one day six months ago, she stopped paying rent. I just got her out, and this is what I have left.
Fuck renters and fuck that house. I hope every single day that it burns to the ground. Which is sad because at one time I loved that little house.
My oldest niece, Jillian (whom I affectionately call my "Jillie Bean") got married last Saturday. She is a mommy and now she is a wife. I guess I have to accept that she is a grown woman now.
Me and a two day old Jillie Bean - January 1992
Yes, that is me. I was 16 years old and she was the first one to make me an aunt.
I love being an aunt. It is a way for me to parent without the actual responsibility of having to raise a child. And I am not trying to brag, but I am a damn awesome aunt. You can ask any of my TEN nieces and nephews, and they will tell you that.
They love me......and I love them. Endlessly.
My niece, Jillie and I have a little bit of history. But despite all the bad things we have been through together, she knows she can count on me for anything. I just love her that much.
So when she asked me to attend her impromptu wedding (it was really just a Notary Public paper wedding), I said of course.
My Jillie Bean on her wedding day
So she married a very nice Air Force boy whom I have decided is quite the nice catch. I have been worried for years about her future, and now maybe I can breathe a sigh of relief because I really think he loves her and will take care of her.
Jillie Bean and Cliff (aka "Smitty") right after their "I dos"
Me and my Jillie Bean - full circle
From seeing her born, to seeing her grow up, to seeing her first child born, to being able to hug her and hold her on her wedding day.I definitely would say we have come full circle.
With this post, I officially have 12 Douchebag of the Month posts under my belt. So I have become quite the expert on Douchebags in the last year.
Yeah, not the type of thing you really want to be known for, but oh, well....I will take it, smile and say "thank you".
Because my Mama raised me right, yo.
So who will it be this month? To me, I didn't want to go obvious. I was really thinking of doing a post on Charlie Sheen seeing he is pretty much self destructing before our eyes, but he is doing a good job of showing the world his own douchebaggery, so why add salt to the wound, right? (Do I smell the next Gary Busey?)
So I went a little LESS obvious.
And with that said, the award for March's Douchebag of the Month goes to...............................the Academy!
As in, the fucktards at the Academy Awards.
NO! I am not pissed that the director of Inception was snubbed, or that the King's Speech won four Oscars or WHATEVER. I am pissed about the whole fucking system.
Why do we give awards for something so ridiculous and superfluous as acting? AND BEFORE YOU JUMP ON MY ASS....I do watch television, and movies....I enjoy the cinema. Hell, even Sweet Joshua and I have been known to enjoy taking in plays at the beautiful Dock Street Theater............but awards for playing pretend?
And not just awards, but an all out affair that newspapers, TV shows, even the fucking NIGHTLY NEWS comment on for months leading up to the actual event and for weeks afterwards. Endless droning onand on about "Who is going to win", "Who was snubbed" and "What is ________going to wear?" WHO CARES?? Think of all the money that is wasted on this stupid event.....AND FOR WHAT?
So the actor that is nominated or wins can walk around with an inflated sense of self and start demanding even MORE fucking money for this pointless line of work...."Oh, I am worth SO much more than 15 million a film.....I demand at least 20 million to film four months of playing dress up and acting like an asshole". Then the prices of movie tickets go up so not only do I have to save for three months to see a movie, but now I have to take out a second mortgage just to have popcorn and a drink.....GOD FORBID IF I WANT NACHOS!! All because YOU THINK YOUR SHIT DOESN'T STINK!!
WELL, FUCK YOU!
An Oscar doesn't mean shit to me. I don't care if you won all the awards and swept the Oscars, that doesn't mean I am going to waste my time watching your crappy overly dramatic movie (I am looking RIGHT AT YOU James Cameron). And just because you won an award doesn't mean that it makes you a better actor/better director than someone who didn't win the award. Case in point:
Marisa Tomei. They really gave her an award for smacking her gum annoyingly and putting on a Jersey accent? Puh-leeze.
I can name 50 actors that were better than she was in that movie (a movie which I like, by the way.....so don't get me wrong). One off the top of my head?
Bill Murray in Zombieland
Hey, I was just going with my gut. And we are on the topic of "ridiculous" so this fits. That and the fact that Zombieland and Bill Murray are way better than My Cousin Vinny and Marisa Tomei any day in my book.
All I can say is this.....ENOUGH ALL READY. We put these assholes on a pedestal for all the wrong reasons and the Academy Awards just make that pedestal higher. We should be worshipping so many other types of people other than these big headed self righteous assholes, and the people that award them Oscars.
And you know who we should be worshipping, so I am not get all sentimental and tell you who to worship. If I have to tell you that, then you really are not smart enough to be reading my blog.