Posts from the ‘The Bariatric Baroness’ Category

Hit It, Pearl

Go here and when the choir starts singing, see if you can pick out my sister amongst the Church Lady Chick Sing-ahs.  (Go to the one that says “Intimacy With Christ.” The preacher prays then they start singing)

She looks like a Baptist goddess, does she not? (Is that sacreligious?  Eh…if it is, it is.)  Do keep in mind that is the same person who used to pin me down, acting like she was gonna spit in my face.  Don’t let that sweet spirit fool you, people.  Heh.  Wonder if the Church Folks are aware of this?  I wonder if she’s repented for that?

Bless This Mess

Alert the Media…phone the neighbors….wake the kids…I want y’all to know something:

Your Sista worked her hiney off this weekend cleaning up the dang house.  I worked so hard, I hurt all over.  Scary thing is that I’m not done but boy howdy, I’m so tickled to tell y’all I actually ACCOMPLISHED something this long weekend.

I must give props to my very thin sister with the straight bob-Thing about my sister and me is we are alike in many ways (we sound alike on the phone, so much so we can play tricks on you with it) we look somewhat alike, however, I do not feel as though we look like identical twins.  She is taller than I am and now she is thinner.  She can do artsy fartsy crafty stuff with her hands, whilst I can not.  She’s a lot more outspoken in person than I am.  She is not scared to give anybody directions on what to do, when to do it and the best way to go about it.  If I say “Hey, do this” and you say “No”, I say “Ok”.   I am more twisted and just plain odder than she is (but in a good way).  I love to cook and she does not.  You get the picture.

Something else she can do way better than I am is clean crap up.  She was telling about her friend who had  a mess at her place and how she went and helped her get it straightened and she told how she did it. 

I took mental notes here.  For some of us, a big ol’ mess is overwhelming and we get very scared of it and think maybe perhaps we might be swallered by it.  Some of us need direction. 

I had gotten a little motivated when I saw that poor woman on Oprah week before last who had crap piled in her house all the way to the ceiling.  I felt good that I didn’t have quite 75 tons of trash in my house, although I probably had more trash  than you do.  I bet the neighbors are wondering what kind of white trash they have living in the neighborhood that we have that many trash bags waiting to be picked up by our ignoramus hard-working trash guys tomorrow morning.

The other thing that motivated me was I had been telling the kids that there would be nary a Christmas decoration hung in the Smiff House this Yuletide if’n we didn’t get something done about the mess.  The Smiff Kids aren’t “into” helping out around the house.  Yes, I know, they should help me more.  YOU come here and make them. I feel like I rant and rave enough and it obviously accomplishes nothing.

It’s hard to get stuff cleaned up with Mr. Smiff and #2 in the house. Both of them think stuff has feelings and they feel bad when stuff gets tossed.  Example: I worked in the bathroom Friday cleaning up.  I found this old, Ernie doll.   Ernie had seen better days.  He didn’t look good enough to give to Goodwill.  Why it was in the bathroom, I do not know.  I haven’t seen one of my kids play with anything remotely associated with Ernie since before 9-11.  Ernie was lying there and I said (to Ernie) “Ok, Ern’…love ya, but, it’s time to say goodbye.” I tossed him.  Do you know SOMEBODY in this house, I do not know who, must’ve seen Ernie in the trash cause he was back yesterday. WTF?  This is part of what I have to contend with in getting rid of stuff.  I’m not a hoarder like that woman on Oprah. 

Mr. Smiff said today, while I was working in the kitchen “I just don’t understand how it can get this messy here, knowing my habits.”  It wasn’t five minutes later I picked up this stuffed dog (again, why it was in the kitchen is beyond me) and I was going to toss it.  I saw him turn into a 10 year old right there. I thought he was going to cry. He tensed up and then he came and took it out of my hands.  What in the world is a 47 year old man going to do with a stuffed Golden Retriever? I doubt very seriously he’s going to put it on our bed after he makes it tomorrow morning. And he wonders why….

It’s also amazing the long-lost things you find.  I found 2 Gameboy chargers that had been missing. 

I forget that with #2’s Asperger’s, he takes everything you say literally.  I have learned lately I have to watch my sarcasm with him.  I had said the other day, during one of my, “This is pig-sty” tirading rants that Children’s Services was liable to come get them and take them away cause we had such a mess happening.  I didn’t think anything else about that until last night when I was working, he said “What time are they coming?” I thought he was talking about his dad and the siblings.  “What time is the Health Department coming?”  Poor thing thought I was serious. 

So anyway, my mother gave me these big, plastic storage thingies yesterday and I brought those suckers home, started working about 6:00 and worked til I fell into the bed at 1:40 this morning.  #2 helped a little.  He picked up Pokemon cards.  When I tell you there are 4, 382, 918 Pokemon cards in this house, please believe me.  I told him I would throw them all away if he didn’t get them dealt with so he worked on those and put a bunch of them in one of those collector books (something his Thin Aunt passed onto him). 

When Mr. Smiff, the Manchild and the Holy Tara got home this morning from Myrtle Beach, I think they thought they went into the wrong house.  I still have a lot to do but I feel pretty doggone good about getting done what I got done, complete with PMS.  I threw a bunch of stuff away when #2 wasn’t looking.  I’m sure somebody out there will have words of wisdom on how to get the family to help me out around here. 

Found ‘Em

I’m at lunch, Stacy Campfield, so there.

I’m tickled to report that I figured out where to get my shot record and official GED test scores.  Yay.  Incase it ever comes up, go to who gave you your shots.  I called good ol’ Dr. Lentz’s office (he retired last year) and they’re looking for them and the nice feller at the Adult Education place told me where to fax my request so there.  Wasn’t so complicated after all.

Why do I want this stuff is the burning question?  I’m trying to get me some more edjumakayshan.  The fine folks at Vol State want to make sure I don’t have cooties before I commence to some book learnin.  Obviously, I don’t have smallpox or nothing.  I’m still walking around.  

I told the lady on the phone at the old doctor’s office that I know for a fact I had shots cause they always had to hold me and Gastrica both down to stick us.  It was the blood taking out of the finger that was the worst.  They’ve come a long way with that, but, remember how that mo fo used to hurt???

Gastrica and me did not like the doctor, not one bit.  One time, she jumped in the back of the station wagon, as the folks pulled into Dr. Dubisson’s office, trying to escape (like where was she going to go, out the back window?) and she cut her leg  up bad.  I think she still has the scar. 

To this day, anytime I drive in Green Hills back there behind where Cain Sloan used to be and get close to that old office, I get butterflies in my stomach.  That is no lie.  Thank goodness the practice moved across the street.  Maybe I won’t be so skeered when I go pick up my stuff.