Posts from the ‘Crazy Things I See’ Category

Coulrophobia Is Real

I’ve never been one to have a Clown Phobia.  I don’t quite understand it but then again, I’m sure there’s people who suffer from such affliction that don’t understand my  strange fear of mice and rats. 

Anyhoo, today I had to get gas at the Hendersonville Mapco.  I’m putting the gas in my vehicle when an SUV pulls up to the pump next to us and I notice there’s a clown behind the wheel.  I didn’t think anything of it because of course, you see a clown getting gas everyday at the Mapco, yes?

While I’m pumping gas, one of the clowns walked over to my car and tapped on the window, promptly scaring my daughter out her wits.  Foster was along for the ride (it’s getting to become a habit that when we get in the car, Le Pup is with us) and I think Mr. Clown was tapping at him, maybe. 

 He said to me  ” I think I mighta scared her.”  Ya think, Homey??

I told them I had to get a picture and when I looked at it later, I realized that something about these two screams John Wayne Gacy


I shouldn’t be like that to the Shriner Clowns we saw at the Mapco.  Clowns need to gas up their cars, too, right?

That’s Hot


Internets, meet my crown.  Crown, meet the Internets.  The Crown wanted to “pop” out and say howdy so there it is. 

Vaseline IS a wondrous thing for holding crowns in place til the dentist opens on Monday.

Nobody Teaches Us How To Grow Old

I was driving down Gallatin Rd. yesterday during lunchtime.  That is one busy road.  It’s not exactly the kinda road one would want to purposely go out and stroll on, although that area has a lot of residents who have to either rely on public transportation or their own two feet to get around. 

I have frequented that part of town a lot over the last 20 years.  I lived off Gallatin Rd. for 5 1/2 years.  I’ve seen all sortsa types of folks crossing that road.  I’ve seen various shapes, sizes, colors, means of crossing, including a guy in a wheelchair with no legs more than once…I’d be scared to death to try to get from the Piccadilly side of Gallatin Rd. to Jenna’s Toybox, myself.

Anyway, I was driving down the road and I saw this older lady in one of those Hoveround things.  I assume this lady is a resident of that Senior apartment complex there behind what used to be Col. Tom Parker’s office.   She was probably at least 75-80 years old.  She was fairly well dressed, had her coif nicely done (betchya she sleeps with toilet paper on her head between her Friday Hair Washin’s). 

One look at the woman you could tell her health is probably not the best it’s ever been, but, considering her age, she’s not doing too bad.  I would imagine her kids probably took her wheels away from her at some point and if she decides she wants to run over to the bank or to the Piccadilly or wherever, she has to rely on the transportation from the complex in which she lives or one of her children has to drive her around.

So, here was this lady, in her Hoverround, waiting to cross Gallatin Rd. My first thought was “What in the world is that woman doing out here on Gallatin Rd. trying to cross this ridiculously busy street in one of those things for?  What is wrong with her??” I wondered if her children and grandchildren had any clue that Maw Maw was crossing Gallatin Rd., zig-zaggin in and out of traffic.  I had a vision of my mother (who will be 74 in a couple of months) doing such a thing.  My mother will barely leave her house in her own vehicle, much less a battery operated contraption like that.

As quick as I had that thought, the thought occurred to me that Hoveround Lady musta wanted to go somewhere and she decided that she wasn’t gonna let a silly little thing like not being able to drive stop her, no sirree.  Where’s my wheels?  Brang ’em here, I want some of that Carrot Souffle’ at the Piccadilly! I was suddenly in awe and admiration of this nameless woman for having lots of cajones. 

The whole scene also made me think about the fact that the good Lawd willin’, I’m going to be that Senior-aged woman (shut up, Much Younger Friends who haven’t even crossed into 30 yet).  I’m just stubborn enough that if I want something bad enough (not Carrot Souffle’ though) I will knock you down til I get whatever it is I’m after.  I don’t like the idea of carpooling to work in a gas shortage because that messes with my independence.  I sho nuff bet at that age, I will resent having to depend on somebody to haul me around.

It’s a scary thought, Old Age.  It’s scary to me that the same turd who left a smart alecky comment on my blog post about him (I told him I would not mention him again on here since he was so offended.  I removed his second comment ‘fo most of you had the chance to see it.)…that same kid, along with the help of the Drama Queen and #2 will someday be involved in major decisions about what old age home I will live out my days in. 

I envision the Drama Queen having to take me grocery shopping, to the doctor…lordy mercy…we will be just like Eunice and Mama. 

Just in 2008 alone, I’ve gotten calls from my mother in the middle of the night, in the middle of my workday, and other times, have had to abandon what I’m doing to go across town to where she lives and deal with a situation.  Hear me, I do not mind doing these things for my mother.  Not one bit.  This is the woman who gave birth to me, wiped my rear end (nevermind that I STILL remember the time she accidentally put toothpaste on my ass instead of Desitin for diaper rash.  Yeah, I have a good memory but you’d remember that one too.  Trust me, toothpaste on yer butt-ox doesn’t get rid of cavities.)  Lord knows the sacrifices Barbara Jean has made on my behalf.  I am quite thankful that I still have her around to do for (yes, I would be even more thankfuller if’n she’d move about 20 minutes closer!).

Do you ever think about your old age?  Is there going to be money for me to live on?  Are my boys going to marry awful women like the daughters in law in Driving Miss Daisy or A Trip To Bountiful?  Will my daughters in law only allow me to hum my hymns when they aren’t around?  I kid, but, ya know…stuff like seeing the old lady in the Hoveround on Gallatin Rd. makes me think about that sorta stuff.

All my life I’ve been taught how to die, but no one ever taught me how to grow old.

BILLY GRAHAM, Newsweek, Aug. 14, 2006

Public Service Announcment #2 For Leap Day

Listen up people…I’m only gonna say this once.  Please listen closely.

Grown up people that have stuffed animals sitting in the rear window of your vehicle?  It is not cute.  Besides being a potential hazard, it’s just weird.  This woman in my office who is 40 ish…sweet as can be….has a brand new, nice car, yet has stuffed animals all in the back window.  I want to shake her and say “Stop it!”

The one time I ever had to go to traffic school (moving violation..cutting off a police officer. Never had a speeding ticket)  the thing that stuck with me was the teacher saying how dangerous it is to have stuff in the back of your car.  This is so because they become moving projectiles in the event of an accident. 

I remember the guy telling of a Kleenex box in a rear window killing a woman.  So, if you have something like that in your back window, take it down.  We don’t want you to get kilt.

If you have stuffed animals…just take them down cause I said so. 

Christmas Shoes Are Wrong

I try not to tell untruths here.  I try.  However, I told a lie the other day when I said there was not a Christmas song I didn’t like.

I heard one last night and I swear to Bing Crosby….it is probably the most hideous Christmas song ever. It sounded sorta like Vanessa Williams (whose singing I really dig) singing it, but, it may not have been.  Something about “come sit here by the fire with me and have a cup of Christmas tea.”  Say what?  It’s painful.  I can’t imagine Bing or even Andy singing such crap.  That is because they wouldn’t. 

**Disclaimer….if this song touches your heart like no other, do accept sincere apologies from your Sista. It did not move me so much.

I don’t know that the Christmas tea song is half as bad as “Christmas Shoes” though.  That song makes me want to projectile vomit.  I HATE that song.  I mean, I hate it. Hate. It.  I know somebody out there’s saying “She hates ‘Christmas Shoes’ but loves ‘Same Old Lang Syne?'” 

Christmas Shoes….ok…there was this psycho that used to go to my church and we called him “The Amen Guy”.  The guy would holler Amen after everything.  You could say “I’ve got hemorroids the size of Cleveland” or “My ass carbuncle is hurting me” and he’d just Amen it.  Now, I’m known to say an Amen here and there but only if there’s a reason for it.  Some people Amen during church just cause they want to hear theyselves talk.

One Christmas Eve, somebody sang this horrendous piece of schlop.  There are praise and worship songs that you raise your hands to but Christmas Shoes is not one of them.  Amen Guy, of course, ended up sitting next to us and all through that dumb song, he was raising his hands and swaying back and forth.  It was wrong, I tell you. Wrawng.  Me and the Holy Tara didn’t even try to not laugh.  What was the point?  It was rich. 

I went to the dentist today to have my teeth cleaned.  I was feeling good about myself cause I haven’t had any sensitivities or nothing like that, found my retainer, my teefuses are good.  Wrong!  Dr. G. said to the hygienist, “Let’s watch 14.”  I said “Lookie here, Pal….I don’t want any more crowns.”  He informed me that the tooth was already crowned and now it (I guess “it” is the teef funk that has taken up residence in my pie-hole) It is going into the root.  Praise!  That means 2008 will be the year of another Root Canal.  I’m so blessed. 

I had one Root Canal in 2001.  I went to Dr. G. (he has been my dentist now for over ten years.  He is good people) and he was going to do a crown.  He numbed me up, started drilling and hello!  I could still feel it.  He shot me up with more numb stuff, and started drilling again.  Was still feelin’ it.  He repeated this process a couple more times.  Still could feel the drill.

Dr. G. sent me down the street to Dr. K. the endodontist for a root canal.  I was scared to death.  Something about drilling a tooth and feeling it will make you a little jumpy.  Knowing I get to have another Root Canal this next year is enough to make me shout Ho Ho Ho.  Bleh.

Stink, Stank, Stunk

This is an explanation of this.grinch.jpg

It’s Wichita’s Fault

If you have ever emailed with me and received some sort of invite from me to some Facebook/My Space kinda thing, please ignore and forgive your Sista.  I have better sense than to send mass emails to anybody inviting them to anything. 

What happened was thus…I opened my email up the other morning.  It said “Wichita Rutherford has invited you to ….” I can’t even remember the name of the thing now.  I thought to myself, “If it’s good enough for Wichita (who I have known since before he was born), it’s good enough for me.”  I checked it out and signed up.  So, I sign up and it asked “Do you want us to see if any of your contacts are on Qechup?” (The name is something like that).  This is where I messed up. 

There was another email from Wichita (after I had already opened and done the other one) that said “Sorry about that…disregard.”  I wish I had read my emails in order.

The way Gmail works is, it puts anybody you ever email with in your Contacts list.  I’m getting some nasty replies back from people saying “I don’t even know you”  and one said “This is a business…take me off”.  Ooops.  Sorry folks. 

Take it up with Wichita. 

My other old pal, Web of Webslog sent me this.  Read it and beware. Apparently, me and Wich aren’t the only ones hit by it.  (Thanks for that, Web.)