Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Big Payoff

"It's finally happening. I'm getting the big payoff. Regular sex," Hunter states.
"Payoff for what? What exactly have you done to deserve a payoff?" I'm intrigued.
"You know, for being patient. The horrible retrograde of the past two years, well really twelve."
"And you know this how?" I love this so much. I feel delighted.
"It said so, you know, it said it would come... um, now. It's all shifting. I'm getting rewarded for all the shit I did." she says.
"Like what? Yelling at your grandmother and taking old prescription meds you found in my cabinet, abusing alcohol, what?"
Like I hadn't even spoken she continues, "The reward is going to be presented in a life partner," she says proudly.

At this point I am laughing so hard I can't write and speak for a second.

"Wait, wait, wait, you met him Sunday? You had some "special" time and now he's going to be your life partner? Okay, I like it!"
"We txtd all day yesterday! And today we are going frogging in the ocean."
"Frogging? What's that mean?" now I'm really confused.
"Frolicking you idiot. We are going frolicking! And guess what else? I am breaking out my Birkentstocks."
"Oh gross, I hate those things. I wouldn't be caught dead in them." I say.
"Oh yes you will cause when you're old and I have to take care of you and your hooker boobs I am going to dress you up big baggy clothes and Birkenstock," she says with determination.

All of the sudden there is a lot of commotion. Dogs barking and growling. The phone drops. I hear her scream, "I have to go."
I go about my business until she calls back.
"Some dog just attacked Penelope in the dog park," she says breathlessly.
"Oh no. Is she okay?"
"She's fine but I had to break it up and my dress came off in front of everyone and I told that women to take her fucking Rottweiler out of the dog park so my dog could pee."

Well done. And Hunter is officially down South. 

Friday, September 4, 2009

We're Back

We were never actually gone. Although I completely forgot how to get into this blog. Thank God Hunter remembered or we would have never been seen or heard from again. Well, at least not here. 

We have a whole summer of stories to tell. A bunch of them were written and then never got posted because I am always afraid of offending people (and for some reason our stories can lean towards off color) although no one (except you) knows who I am. Hunter yelled at me over and over again for this, saying, "Post it! Post it." Which was surprising cause a bunch of the really bad ones were about her. :)

Hunter just moved away again. Down South. Out of Gramma hell. It was a tough summer. It could have been a black comedy if there had been a laugh track attached. All sorts of mayhem went on. She had to get out of here before it ended in murder. 

On her last night here while she was wearing my sons motorcycle helmet that I spray painted silver for science project and swinging on the poles in my garage she did keep saying, "You better post those ones and also write a ending one. " 

Then, you C3, called us on it. And let me tell you how it went down cause Hunter's gonna love this. So yesterday I was working like a dog (this is me Sarah) odd right? But I was. Cleaning out my Mom's huge garage. I got home and had one hour to chill out before I had to go to a meeting and out for the night. I put on my bathing suit and lied down. Of course that very second I got beckoned to drive children all over the earth. I threw on this pink dress over my bathing suit and got in the car. So I'm taking a corner and this guy in another car is coming the opposite way turning the same corner. He is staring at me like I am a alien. I think to myself, "He must be concerned because I am not wearing my seatbelt." Another thing that drives Hunter crazy. So then I see my little phone light beeping and I get it to read some e mail (she loves this too) and it's C3 asking if we're going to post again. I look down to dial Hunter's number to tell her and I see the reason the other driver was starting at me. It wasn't the seat belt. It was my dress was barely covering an almost non existent bikini top. Hunter would call it "whore boobs." That man didn't care about the safety harness at all! 

But you know what Hunter? At least my dress wasn't on backwards! And I didn't run through any red lights OR stop signs.  I didn't stop traffic for anything. So that's good right?

Sunday, June 28, 2009

"I've Got A Full On Girl Crush."

"Ah, so now you're a lesbian huh?" I asked her.
"I don't know but I totally have a crush on Courtney from the studio. We have some weird thing going on." Hunter says.
Now I know Courtney and she is straight up gay so this could be a whole new adventure for us. When Hunter does something she doesn't go half assed. It's all or nothing.
"So what happened?" 
"I don't know. We just kind of flirt with each other. Don't you think she's pretty?"
"Sure, she's pretty. Is this just in your head though or does Courtney know what tornado is about to be thrust upon her?"  I ask.
"I called Suzy," Hunter says ignoring my last comment.
"Oh yeah, what'd she say?"
"Well she did wonder how I was going to feel about the new way of doing things," she says.
"I wondered about that too. How's that going to go down, no pun intended."
"I don't really think it matters if you like who you're with," she says.  With this last comment I'm pretty sure she's ready for a change. I think it must go back to that dog thing at the vet clinic. That's a whole other story though.
"Suzy also said maybe I'm so fed up with guys that I'm going girls now." 
"That's one theory I guess. Should I call my brother and ask him if you're gay. They can always sniff out who plays on their team," I ask.
"Yes! Call him and check if I'm going to be a big old Lesbo!" Hunter says.
"All right. Call you back in a little."

An hour later, my phone rings. I had forgotten that Hunter decided to be gay now and was off in my own little world.
"I facebooked her! And she answered in like 13 seconds," she says.
"Oh, just a friending or were there words exchanged?" I know how this goes down.
"Oh we totally messaged back and forth and she said we should go out some time. I think I'm going to go to the studio and take her class tomorrow."
"Yeah, I don't see that happening but I think my little girl is really gay now, congratulations. I think you are going to make a great lesbian!" I say.
"Well, all my friends in South Carolina are going to be so proud of me.  They always said I was gay. And also I were Chucks, that's apparently a sign and the fact I collect cats. I'm a cat collector, that's another tell tale sign," she says.
"Well I guess that does it then. You're a lesbian. I wonder how long this will last. I'm sure looking forward to it. Things had gotten kind of boring." 

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Are You Stoned Too?

Poor Poor Hunter with her screwed up shoulder and back. All sorts of knotted up and no insurance, no doctor. I'm sorry Baby. It hurts me to just look at you. Thank God for Shane and his magical chiropractor. I'm going to tell you something, you are honestly the only person I know that could go to get adjusted and come out with a styrofoam cup full of free weed. It's just  ridiculous really. I was so happy though to hear that little singsong lilt to  your voice again though. It's been to long. 

 Okay, once again, very nice tinfoil bowl you were trying to concoct. What are you 14? Seriously, I don't smoke pot and I could of come up with something better than that piece of crap. Oh yeah, I did. I just happened to find an unused bowl hanging around in my store of a house. So you were lucky (as was I) that the kids were walking in as you were once again about to try and blow the tinfoil one out my window. It bought me some time to find you the one with the  dolphin on it that I bought in Antigua as a stocking stuffer long ago.

 God almighty. 

So I had so much fun hanging out with you. Especially when we got to the "What are we going to eat?" portion of the night. Seeing as I hadn't showered in a day or two and you were pretty much lit, going out wasn't an option. So into the kitchen. I should have taken a picture of the joy in your eyes when I pulled out that gyoza. I ran upstairs to do something. When I came down you were bustling around that kitchen like some jacked up Martha Stewart. Except for that nasty soy sauce dip you made. This is where I came in handy. I made an equally gross mustard one, but when you put them together they were delicious. Even on the pizza. My favorite part was when I said, "If you use the exact right amount of each on the crust, it taste's like bernaisse." And you tried a little, shook your head yes and with complete innocence go, "Wait, are you stoned too?"

I love you Man. Now get better you freak. I miss you. 

Monday, June 8, 2009

Where'd You Go?

I miss you so. Seems it's been forever since you've been gone...

I love that song. My brother hates it. You know which brother I am talking about don't you? My gay brother that everyone of my friends falls in love with because he is the most spectacular person on the face of the earth. The one that you said you would like to lick the inside of his mouth? That's just gross to say to someone's sister. I'm gonna tell you though, you weren't the first and you won't be the last. Apparently he has that effect on women. To bad he likes men. I will tell you though. He asked me about you specifically. He even offered up his mouth. He has been known to make out with woman occasionally. Or so he tells me. I'm thinking Hunter, maybe it's him your supposed to marry, not Gary. Then you would have my old last name and not Suzy's. You would no longer be a symbol but a famous author. Just a thought. If we can talk my brother in to it. 

Anyway, I miss you Man. All this work is seriously cutting into my note taking of your daily happenings and what with Syd gone? We're low on material. I could talk about you going to the park with song writing guy to smoke some weed and the paranoia that came with that when you thought he was going to go all axe murderer on you. I think he reads this every once in a while. It was Hunter who said, not me, I don't even smoke.  Or I could talk about the things you always want to tell about me but I won't. That would be stupid Bob. What the fuck ever happened to Bob anyway? Seriously, did he morph into a hacksaw or something? That'll teach us to publicly call someone a pedophile! Lesson learned! Straight up. Oh well, he was boring the ever loving shit out me anyway. I'm glad he's gone. We didn't even include him in our little ritual. Which by the way, totally worked. Mac is OUTTA here. There will be no need for you to ring his doorbell and bitch slap him, as much as the idea amuses me, it's not necessary. He flushed himself with all that ridiculous cheap talk. Who does that? What about Cork Cork Corkhole. Corkhole. He's a corkhole. Did he buy that baby yet? Is he still inviting you to the farm? He's a corkhole. 
I've been up since 4.30 and had slightly to much caffeine.
I love you Man.
I miss you. 
I'm proud of you though. 
You rock it. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. 

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The Ritual Went Awry

Okay, I know this is going to start out sounding dumb. I get it now. I'm stupid. Whatever.

So a while back we're at this bar-b-que. It was at the time we were just about over Bob. He was there talking some nonsense and in an effort to avoid him I turned around and started talking to the guy next to me. He  seemed intelligent (except he didn't believe in past lives-whatever) it was a good conversation. 

Shortly after I got an e mail asking me out. I replied with what I thought was a very clear, "that's lovely of you, but I can only be friends, if you were expecting anything more, that's not going to work for me." I got back one of the cleverist things I have seen in a while. It was a whole story about choosing friendship or nothing and the possible repercussions of both. He chose friendship, or so I thought...

My guy friends laughed at this. "Yeah, sure Sarah, he wants to be your friend. Uh, no." I thought they were wrong. He asked me out to get a drink and dinner one night. I brought Hunter. She got wasted and left. I had to pick her up later but that's neither here nor there. Just fact. The friendship with him continued. Or so I thought.

Sometimes I write to Hunter on FB in Chinese or Thai or any language. I tease my Mexican friend in Spanish and I write in Turkish to my friend who lives in Istanbul. My "just a friend" saw it on my wall,  enjoyed it and wrote to me in other languages. We started exchanging poems in mystery languages. Mostly Robert Frost, a little Bob Dylan and a sonnet here or there. I shared everything with Hunter. I enjoyed the repertoire, I like when people get me. I think the last thing I had shared was one of my favorite Bob Dylan songs ever.

Guess what I got back?
 Bob Dylan? No. Maybe some Van Morrison? He's a genius. Nope. Any of the greats?! I had always looked forward to his poems, when I got it I put it in the google translator cause it was in Mandarin. I was expecting something great. I got a fuck me song with my name in it by a teeny bopper. I was pissed. It basically said, "fuck me." I closed my laptop and called Hunter to tell on him. Seriously? Why? 

"Who does that?" she demanded. "It's just wrong! I didn't even understand what the song meant and the lyrics are just wrong. Its all fucking wrong."

Shortly thereafter Hunter and I had our "get rid of them" ritual. 

I hadn't responded to his last song. He sent me one more short message that I didn't answer. I thought he was gone. He must of understood my silence. I am a good communicator and honestly very easy going. This went way to far. 

That all happened Friday night. It's Tuesday now. Hunter came over today at lunchtime. She walks in and says, "You are never going to believe what "he" texted me today!"
"What?" I asked.
"He texted me at 8.30 this morning and asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with him today," she said.
"No he didn't," I said laughing.
"Oh yes he did and he even had the fucking nerve to offer up Star Trek or The Terminator, what a dumb ass." 
"Oh my God. That almost makes me like him. It's so funny," I said.
"What the fuck was he thinking? 'Oh, Sarah won't talk to me cause I sent her a fuck me song so I'll try Hunter again?'  Does he think we're not best friends? We won't talk? Is he trying to make you jealous? What an idiot! And by the way, I already got rid of him TWICE before you even met him! I was only nice to him cause he paid for both our dinners that night I got wasted and you said he was smart.  When we performed the ritual it was to get rid of them, not fucking trade them! Why were you friends with him anyway Sarah?" she demanded.

"Uh, if you remember, I was pissed at Bob and avoiding him that night I met him," I said.

"Fucking Bob! It always comes back to Bob!" she yelled.

I love you Man. Now be a sport and take one for the team.  

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Dearest Sarah,

I was reading somewhere that we could "rid" ourselves of bad people by having a ritual...

It said something like, We make paper doll cut-outs of all the people we want to say, "Buh bye" too...

Then we write all the things that make us sick on the front...
Then we dunk them in red wine...toss pebbles at them...
Snuff out a cigarette on their stupid face...
Dunk them in the pool a couple times (only to cool them off)...

Then toss them over the fence!!!

All while chanting, "Good bye Mother Fuckers."

Let's give it a try ol' pal.

I love you Man.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Dear Hunter (Letter 3),

One of my main goals in life (besides driving 365 different places in the 4 hours that lay between school and shower time) is to make you laugh. 

I'm pretty good at it. Even when I don't mean to be. I say things with complete sincerity and the corner of your eyes start to turn up even before your mouth. It almost irritates me because it makes me laugh and then I'm not sure if you know I'm serious or not. 

You know I am. 

So in an effort to make you laugh on a night when you are not my Friday night date (thanks a lot for that btw Bitch, if I get sold into white slavery for going out with almost strangers, remember, my friends name is Tasha, you know where she works.) I will tell you a little tale to hold you over until I can unintentionally make you laugh again by telling you about my future travels, house and the amount of pedicures I require in a month. No offense (just a little) but forking over some of those sweat earned dollars for a pedicure never killed anyone. Just sayin'. You know who loves you right? NO! Not fuckin Schaffer. He might say it, but he can't txt like me. If he can. Take him. Snatch him up. Never let him go.

Bob's a fuckin' idiot.

So listen, you got the short version earlier. Stupid Mac is a raging alcoholic. I'm not even kidding. I was always wondering why he couldn't remember things I had told him. Dumb ass me. I have even said on occasion, "Do you not listen to me?" Now I realize he is a fucking drunk.  He is a cheap, wasted, mofo. So today he says, "I felt awful today. Barely got any work done."  Trying to be nice, I asked, "Why, are you sick?"  To which he replied, "No, I had to many drinks last night. I am paying for it today." In my head I thought, "Self, I guess cause it was Thursday night he might have been partying but also self, isn't it his week with the kids?" Hmmm... So I said, "Who did you go out with?" Stupid Sarah. Remember, don't ask the question if you don't want to hear the answer. My bad. "I didn't go anywhere, I drank here by myself. I have been trying to stop that and only drink with other people." Buh bye. Not only are you the richest cheap mother fucker I have ever known but now you're an alcoholic too? I would take my (estranged) husbands pot smoking ANY DAY OF THE WEEK over that. 
So in the famous words of you, Hunter "Go get your purse Bitch, grab your perfume, your pink boa and your pink slip and go down to HR. You Are Out."

Oh Mother say a prayer for me, Jesse's (SS) back in town, it won't be easy.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Hunter In Wonderland

"I have the most exciting news to tell you. You can't tell anyone. Not Mandy if you see her tomorrow. No one. It's a total secret," Hunter says the minute I pick up the phone.
"Do tell," I say. 
"Well, tomorrow Shane is picking me up and we are going kayaking on the oldest lake in the history of man.."
"I don't even know what that means."
"Just listen, we are going kayaking on the most historical waterway in the tri state area AND he's bringing mushrooms."

I glance in the rear view mirror to make sure the kids haven't heard this revelation through the cell phone. Thank God they're to busy chattering away about their crazy principal and how he was on the news last night (for nothing g00d).  

"I'm not sure what to say to that. Congratulations."
"You don't even know how happy I am. So happy. Kayaking, historical lakes, mushrooms. This is the happiest I've been since I've been here." she gushes.

Go get 'em Tiger. 

I love you Man. Now shut up about the bees. 

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Buzzed and BeeWildered

It's beyond gorgeous outside. The sky is as blue as it's been all spring. There is a breeze. The birds are tweeting and chirping and zipping around. So are a couple bees. It's bee season. I like bees. Bees are nice. I just don't want  bees sitting on me. I got stung a while back on my neck and it made that one thing under my jaw swell up and I was convinced I had cancer. Anyway, I'm lying on the lounge chair in the sun soaking up another form of cancer and a bee starts buzzing around me.
"Get off bee. Go play over there," I say.
"Yes, bees. That bee that was on you was totally entranced by the pattern on my bathing suit." Hunter says.
"Don't be stupid. That bee didn't like your bathing suit. It landed there by accident."
"Oh yes he did! He loved it. It reminded him of a honeycomb which is the shizzle to a bee," Hunter replies with absolute sincerity.
"That is straight up retarded. It was completely by chance he landed there."
"No it wasn't! He was looking for a safe place to sit. He saw the design and he flew around and around, he became enticed and then landed on my teet."

Stunned silence from me...

A couple minutes later.

"Why do you have the mother load of Russian caviar cans stacked in your kitchen cabinet?" Hunter asks after she has obviously been rummaging through them.
"My neighbors are Russian, they give it to us every Christmas."
"You don't eat it?" she asks.
"Does it appear that we do?"
Next she pulls a little glass caviar jar out of her bag that is housing her maryjawanna. "Are these inside of it?" she asks.
"What do you mean? It's all cans. Didn't you see?"
"Well maybe there are jars inside of the cans," she says.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You think there are glass jars inside of those little cans? Are you stoned now?"

Sunday, May 17, 2009

"You Need Medication"

Listen Mom, I know we're getting into the last early part of the 2000's but still, don't you remember "Free To Be You And Me?"
Don't dress your cat in an apron

Just cause he's learning to bake

Don't dress your horse in a nightgown

Just cause he can't stay awake


Dear Hunter's Mommy,

This is an anonymous letter from someone who spends in inordinate amount of time with Hunter. I thought I should throw in my two cents to the whole "Hunter needs meds" conversation. I would rather do it here though than in front of you and Gramma because I don't want to get in trouble and although at the age of 18 (14 and 1 score year ago) I decided that "trouble" was no longer a option, but that's with my parents, you and the Vickonator are a whole other story. You know this is Suzy writing, right?

The thing is, Hunter is one of the best people I have ever known. She is a good friend. She is smart. She is just different. She dances to a different beat. She runs at a different pace. She walks with a different gait. Whatever the case may be. She is my muse. Should you stifle her with some nasty meds I would be low on material. I would have to make stuff up. No one wants that. Plus I think she does a fine job of self medicating (please see picture below). She has perfected the doses to bring her down to half past medium. That could take years going through a handful of shrinks. Does Insurance cover marijuana in the Commonwealth? I think not.
And speaking of meds, when I asked her what time she had to work tomorrow and she told me 5.30 in the am, I expressed my sympathies at the early hour she must rise. She said, "I know, it's hard, I like to wake up early enough so I have some chill time before these fuckin' nutballs I'm living with get up and start cleaning with Q-tips. I believe she was talking about you and your mother. With compete and total respect, I beg the question, perhaps the meds are needed elsewhere?

With Great Love In My Heart,
Suzy Stuck-Up (in a passive aggressive mood) Sue me. 
Get it? Sue, Suzy?
You know I'm double jointed right? I can do some sick shit with my arms. Don't test me. 

Rule number One: Everything comes back to Bob
Rule number Two: When in doubt, blame it on Suzy.

I love You Man...

Saturday, May 16, 2009

The Weekend Rolls On In...

"We went out to dinner last night."
"Who all went?"
"The whole crew, me, my Mom, Uncle Darryl, my other Uncle Darryl and Gramma," Hunter says.
"What freak show transpired?" I ask as get out my note pad.

Note pad.
A glass of red wine.
Sound of boys playing baseball in the yard.
Dogs sitting staring at me with great love. 
Sun beating down at 6 o'clock Saturday night.
Hunter telling stories.

I'm a simple girl (if you don't count the trainer, masseuse, esthetician, reiki healer, therapist, botox doctor, hair stylist, cleaning people and the Asian woman that does my nails)- straight up for you Hunter- but I am a simple girl. Small things make me abnormally happy. This is one of those times.

"So first my goddamn Mom stares at me put 6 quarters in the meter, as I start to fish through my wallet for more she says, 'You don't need quarters on Friday night honey.' Thanks Mom. You're a fuckin' peach."
"Good start," I say, "Please continue." (I'm not even charging her for this therapy session)
"So then we go in the restaurant and she tucks her napkin in the top of her shirt."
"Wait, who does that, (I'm confused) your Mom? Sydney? Or do you mean your 95 year old grandmother (cause that seems slightly more feasible)?"
"My Mom!" Hunter says.
"Why?" I ask. 
"Cause she doesn't want to get anything on the shirt that she paid $450 for in Tortola when we could have gotten it at a head shop here for $20 and it probably cost the Mexicans a buck fifty tops to make."
"Then she pulls her bottle of wine out a brown paper bag, slams it on the counter and then reaches in her stupid gay beach bag and pulls out her own plastic wine glass with the dolphins on it." 
"She brought her own wine glass?" this just keeps getting better and better. Dysfunctional is not even adequate to describe this family. They are worthy of so much more.
"She sure did. She won't drink out of anything that isn't plastic. You know she doesn't even use utensils to eat?" she says.
"I did not know that. For what? Like finger foods? Butlered hor devours? Granola bars?"
"No. Anything. Salad. Pasta. Piece by piece. She eats like a goddamn Aborigine and she taps everything twice before she puts it in her mouth."
"Is Tom Cruise her brother from another Mother? Can she count cards?" At this point I'm trying to figure out how to use these oddities to my advantage. Hunter seems disturbed. I am strangely intrigued by this kooky behavior. 
"No. She's not Autistic! She's just fucking nuts. It's weird and uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as Bob's profile picture..."

When it's all said and done friends...
It all comes back to Bob.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Vertigo, The Nettie Pot and Will She Turn Blue?

Ah the vertigo. The fucking vertigo. It's all I ever hear about. Hunter is constantly complaining of vertigo. "It's an inner ear thing. Inner ear. Inner ear. I can't stand up. I can't sit down. I've got vertigo." Listen, if we want to talk dizzy, let me tell you how I had to sit down while teaching today because of a major head rush. I don't know why it happened but I'm not crying "vertigo" though.
I think the only reason she fell out of the pose the other day in her class was cause she couldn't hold it. If it had been me teaching that class and not her luva Brad, I would of totally yelled, "Get up. You're weak. You suck. Get out of my class!" :)

But whatever, you say vertigo, I say dizzy. You say potato, I say patato. I hate that saying. Who but a complete asshole would say patato? 

Anyway, back to the title. What's next? Ah yes, the nettie pot. Now I love a nettie pot just as much as the next hippie or as the next person that loves a nettie pot but I think you are abusing the nettie pot Hunter. I have to interrupt myself here and tell you I once had to tell a friend to never say the words "nettie pot" to me again because I thought she used them to many times in a sentence and look, here I go doing it...  Back to my point. I think you are treating the NP like some sort of skunk bud you happened upon. It's just burning a hole baby. The thing is the NP isn't going anywhere. Give it a break. I don't want you to go blind.

And last but not least, the silver. Our dear little self appointed Facebook Police of the Pedophile Pictures has taken it upon herself to treat all her ailments with some sort of silver. It is supposed to have quite a success rate but there is that one little glitch that it could make you turn blue. It's not even her nonsense. I know it's true cause I saw it on CSI Las Vegas one time, the one with Grishom. I think that's where I saw it. There was a definitely a blue guy. I'm going to go out on a limb and ask everyone to say a little prayer for Hunter that she doesn't turn blue. I don't want her to walk around like some freak. Well, anymore than she does now. 

I love you Man.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

HA HA HA to YOU Hunter...

Back To Bob

When all else fails we always have Bob. We actually have other stuff too but Bob's pedophile profile picture talk makes me laugh so hard that sometimes I think I'm going to have stomach issues. When Hunter gets on a roll with it, I actually have to tell her to stop. More of that later. 

Other goings ons...
Although Hunter's early morning complaining usually irritates me, today on the way to the gym made me laugh so hard that I had to tell her to slow down because lots of times I have to jot stuff down while driving. 

"I didn't sleep at all last night," she whined.
"Why now?"
"My goddamn Mom kept me up all night snoring. That and five planets were lined up outside my window shining in. That's right. Five moons right in my window making a prism. Five planets coming through the window of my room!  and I have vertigo."
"Would you shut the fuck up with that vertigo shit? Seriously, it's annoying me."
"You shut up Sarah, it's true. Sometimes I just tip over. I did it in class the other day. Just tipped over while we were doing something.  I can't remember what it's called."
"Was Brad teaching?" I asked.
"That must have been a huge turn on. Are you guys like an item now? Are you going to his prom? Did he make you a mixed tape?"
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. I don't even like him anymore," she said.
"Why not? I thought he was so dreamy."
"He's got a gut and I don't get that. He's a fitness teacher. Where does he get off having a gut? We were doing that thing where you're upside down (at which point she demonstrates on the lounge chair as her shirt falls down) I mean, I'm sure he wasn't impressed by my shit (as she gestures to her miniscule stomach) but still, he is the teacher!"
"Yeah, he's a little chunky," I agree.
"So I'm over it."
"Cause of that? I thought you didn't care?"
"Yeah, but he was acting like a girl again saying he had tennis elbow. Stupid."
"Straight up."

We now return to our regularly scheduled program:

"So Bob has fallen off the face of the earth," Hunter says.
"Yeah, I think you calling him a pedophile on his "wall" didn't help matters." 
"He isn't talking to you anymore either," she points out.
"Well, A, we come as a team and B, I'm over him. I was over him the night I skipped out of that bar-b-que."
"I couldn't help myself once I understood what that picture was. I didn't realize at first it was hin and a baby. I thought it was his girlfriend," she says.
"You thought his girlfriend was three?"
"I didn't look that closely. I wasn't paying attention. If you can believe that?" she says.
"I sure can Kooky."
The following came out as one long stream of consciousness and I'm sure I missed some:
"I don't trust him. It's weird. He was always saying he was going to Colorado. I don't believe it. I think he was on the weekend Pedophile Program at Sing Sing in New York. And I told him to take that picture down! If someone told me that I had a pedophile picture up  I wouldn't care if I was in Colorado, Venezulea or Ethiopia I would have someone get into my facebook account and change that picture! He was a pervert. He wasn't in in Colorado! He was on pedophile probation! I've worked with enough animals in the wild  to know that. I don't trust him, he's living with a gay man that eats acid and mushrooms all day. Don't even get me started on that"model" picture with that circular saw. He was chipping bodies. It's just freaky. I'm glad he's gone."

Bye bye Bobby... We'll miss you...

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Big Blow Off

It was fun while it lasted. Hunter coming to my class. I was so proud of her. Working and working out! I knew it was coming to an end the other day when she called me from the studio.
"I love Brad," she said. "He and his girlfriend just broke up. I think he's going to like me too."
"Fantastic. Isn't he like 12?" I ."said, somewhat snarkily.
"No! He's 32 and I think I love him." 
"Oh dear God, I should have seen that coming a mile away." I said.

Brad is another teacher in the studio I work in. He and I trained together one time. He is adorable but I never considered him "datable" for my single friends. Just didn't occur to me...

"Oh and I helped him change his status on facebook." she said.
"Oh, well then it's official, facebook status is like Gods word. Why did they break up anway?"
"You're never going to believe this," Hunter said, "but he said he was acting like such a bitch cause she never had time for him."
"Hunter! Aren't we sick of men that act like bitches! Seriously!"
" I know but he's so cute. " she said.
"Yeah, cute like a newborn chick."

A couple days later I get a phone call. "Are you coming down to practice here this morning?" she asks me.
"No. I'm going to my gym, why, who's teaching?" at this point I had pushed the whole Brad thing out of my head.
"Brad," she said.
"Have fun Hooker."

Later that afternoon. 
Phone rings.
"Yes?" I say.
"I think we're in love," she says.
"Is that so? That was quick. He must have been impressed with your moves."
"Uh, no. I'm pretty sure he wants me though because he kept touching me the whole time and at the end he gave me a very seductive foot rub." she literally giggled. Hunter giggled. I threw up a tiny bit in my mouth. 
"Dude, I'm not sure he's of legal age. Careful."
"Shut up." 
"Well great. I'm glad you've made a love connection at work. That's very PC these days," I say.
"And you know what else? The whole time I kept doing things wrong so he would adjust me and put his hands on me." she said.
"That sounds fabulous Stalker."
"I can't come to your class Wednesday Sarah, I'm going to Brad's instead." 
"Fuck you."

Friday, May 8, 2009

Dear Hunter, Letter 2

  You'll see this when you go home. Hi there. How ya feeling Champ? You all ready to come back watch baseball games with me all day? No? Instead you say, you are going to go to McDonalds and go home to Syd and Vickie? Okay, cool. Maybe Syd can find you a boyfriend today. I liked the other day when she asked the gardner if he was married. That was great fun. Especially when he said that he was married and she said, "Oh, okay, I didn't know if you wanted my daughter or not. Then she pointed to you and you were all sweaty and gross from taking my class, which I meant to thank you that you only gave me the finger once the whole time. I was proud of you. You little exerciser. Who saw that coming? Not me.

 So listen, sorry I made you sleep on the floor but it's enough sharing a bed with Mickey. Sorry I made you get out of my car when you lit up that bowl, but we all know I don't like the smell of that very stinky weed. I can't help it. It's an old scar. It's taking some time to heal. Sorry I had to pick your ass up at Gary's bar when I told you not to go in the first place. Sorry we haven't found a replacement Bob yet but I think we're fine on our own for a while. Sorry I parked illegally again. Okay, I'm really not sorry for that.

Can you wake up and tell me a story so I can fall asleep? No? Selfish bitch. 
Love you Man. Anyway. 

P.S. I hid your keys. Did you find them? I am so tempted to go out and "surprise" you like you did me when you were annoyed with me for something stupid and you piled all that shit in my car so when I opened the back I wouldn't be able to get to the kids baseball stuff. That was good. You're a clever little Minx aren't ya?
I would really like to go put something smelly in your car so when you have to drive home feeling not 100% tomorrow you will have a bad smell the whole time. I just can't think of what to put in there. I wish I had a rotten egg or some stinky cheese lying around. If it weren't 12.45am and I wasn't already in my pajamas I would go out and get something. I'm a bad sleeper. I should take a trip to Turkey. I hate to waste travel time though, unless it's an emergency. 

Now I'm just rambling. Ramble on Rose.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Our Bob Was A Punk...

And not the cool kind.

It's official. We are now scouting and taking resumes for a New Bob. Just in case you don't know our Old Bob was our Sidekick. He had his moment in the sun. He got lazy. Or perhaps he always was lazy and we just didn't notice. Whatever the case may be our Old Bob lost the dream job. Sucks for him. He should have thought a little harder before he took a three hour long shower while we were starving and waiting for him to meet us at a restaurant. He's not that tall or wide and he has not one hair on his shiny head. It was unnecessary and a waste of our time. 

We have been contemplating how to go about the interview process. We decided our best course of action would be to set up a table and two chairs right in front of his old restaurant in our town and just start there. We are going to need resumes, and not any of those doctored up ones that say things that aren't true.  We're going to need head shots and we are thinking of incorporating some sort of "Apprentice" type task for the applicants to do in order for us to see their abilities. Bob was lacking in this department. We let him get away with it for a while because Hunter liked to have a tokin' buddy. She's willing to forgo that for someone with either more potential or better pot than her. 

We also need our New Bob to be named Bob. That is going to weed out a lot of the riff raff. We also need NB to have moments when he is funnier than we are. We don't mind being the side show most of the time but at some point we are going to need to be entertained. 

What else do we need? Oh yes, under NO CIRCUMSTANCE can the NB have a facebook profile picture that makes him look like a pedophile. We all know it's his "god child," whatever. It's just weird. It makes Hunter squeemish. You don't have a picture of yourself in the bath tub with a baby as your profile picture. It's just stupid Bob. And we're pretty sure it's also fucking illegal.  You didn't even change it when Hunter called it to your attention on National Change Your Pedophile Profile Picture Day.  

This has been a hard decision for us to make. Like most, we are creatures of habit. We enjoyed OB during his short stint as our Third Wheel. We liked calling him Charlie, he liked calling us his Angels.  We chuckled at his odd little idosyncracies that made him inherently OB. The problem arose when he kinda started acting like a girl all the time. No offense to girls. Finger to nose. You know what we mean. We think that is the point of this whole post. No long ass showers, no restaurant decision making issues, no, "I hate that bartender." None of that. 
Cowboy the fuck up. 
That's what we said.
If your picture has ever been stapled to a telephone post you need not apply.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

She's In A Cult

Just between you and me and the lamp post I think Hunter's about to join a cult. Well, when I say me I really mean her grandmother. It actually has nothing to do with me, I just like little sayings like that. 

Yesterday Morning:
"Get me outta here." the txt says.
"Where are you?" I reply full of genuine concern. 

An hour goes by.
I guess she's fine. If she was in jail she would have called me. I don't know if you are allowed to txt from the holding cell, I'm kind of thinking no, so I am somewhat confident she was uncomfortable for a minute, txt'd that then got distracted by another shiny object and moved on.

Hours later.
"OMG, call me," the next txt says.
Now I am slightly concerned. And when I say slightly. I actually do really mean very slight.

I call her.
Her whispered voice comes on the phone, "I'll call you back, I'll be out of here in a minute."
"Where the hell are you?" I ask.
"Ok, fine, call me back," I say as I roll my eyes to myself.

Finally an incoming phone call. Not some crypted txt or a half assed conversation. 
"Well it's official. Gramma thinks I'm in a cult." she says.
"Are you?" I ask, I had been out of the loop for the day, you never know what can transpire in an 8 hour time period. It is Hunter we're talking about. Things change dramatically with a trip to the gas station. A cult's not entirely out of the question. 
"The Kabbalah. She hates the Kabbalah." Hunter says.
"Well, you had to see that coming. She was very concerned about you and your relationship with Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior," I say.
"Yeah, well now she has my Mom and Uncle Stuart thinking that too."
"Oh well, what are you gonna do? You wanna come over? I'm bored. And when I say bored, I mean bored of this conversation."
"Fuck you," she says.
" Oh, is that what all the cult kids are saying this week?"

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Here You Go

Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call 
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall 
You've seen it all, you've seen it all 

Watched the men who rode you switch from sails to steam 
And in your belly you hold the treasures few have ever seen 
Most of 'em dream, most of 'em dream 

Yes I am a pirate, two hundred years too late 
The cannons don't thunder, there's nothin' to plunder 
I'm an under-forty victim of fate 
Arriving too late, arriving too late 

I've done a bit of smugglin', I've run my share of grass 
I made enough money to buy Miami, but I pissed it away so fast 
Never meant to last, never meant to last 

And I have been drunk now for over two weeks 
I passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks 
But I got stop wishin', got to go fishin' 
Down to rock bottom again 
Just a few friends, just a few friends

Jimmy Buffet

Here you go children. Hunter, I know the only thing you're feeling tonight is hungover. I do enjoy when you told me to hold on so you could pack your bowl.  And then the cough. The cough is priceless. 
Now that you have internet access, don't get crazy. I worry you know. Even though apparently somehow I'm the bad one. That's just stupid Bob.

I Love You Man.

Dear Hunter,

I'm sorry Hunter. When you read this you'll be all, "Hey, what happened to that Jack Johnson singing Jimmy Buffet song that I tirelessly listened to over and over drunk last night to get every last lyric, even though Sarah said we could easily google them if I needed them so bad." "Fuck googling them!" you said. You wanted to listen, stop, sing. Listen, stop, sing. Kind of along the lines of stop, drop and roll. But different. 
I typed away for you but there was something goofy going on and it was making the type to big and cutting stuff off and I just looked at it. Just stupid. We were kinda drunk. That was fun.  Especially the part where you wrote on Bob's wall that he looked like a.... I won't say it, cause what he reads this sometime? I'm telling you, I don't care how old we are, adult supervision is s a good idea and you can't count Sue as "adult," when she's drinking too. Sue and her crazy showers. That's why she left, not cause we were boring her. Or maybe we were. Once there had been to much wine to do tricks anymore and the games got old, she was outta here. Hey, now that I think about it, she left when she thought the wine was gone. She didn't know about that fifty dollar bottle my brother left here to give to my parents. Whoops. 
So sorry about the song. I'm going to text you the whole thing, piece by piece. That'll be fun...

Friday, May 1, 2009

Once Upon a Time...

In  a land called Bennigans I went to lunch with three generations of my dysfunctional female family. It was like a fucking train wreck. 
Gramma was stamping out her Virginia Slim in the entry way as we put our name down for a table. She wouldn't stop saying how she didn't want to eat food. Uh...we're in a restaurant Vicki. You needs to shuts ups. 
Bennigans, Flannigans, Hooligans. Wtf?

"You shut up!" Gramma said to anyone who was listening. (You shut up Gramma)

It was 12.05 pm. I ordered my first beer of the day from the bartender when no one was watching before we even sat down. It wasn't because I wanted it. This had nothing to do with want. This was Stone Cold Need. 

The waitress with the goofy smile and fake happy voice named Anna came over to take our beverage order. This the last fake happy voice we were going to get out of her now that she had met the Vickonater. As she was asking for our drink order Gramma demands, "I want a shrimp cocktail!" with the gruffest of voices that only 95 years of smoking can produce. (shut up you old Goat)
"We don't have shrimp cocktail," Anna says.
"What do you mean you don't have shrimp cocktail?" she screams. (please dear God, if there is one, make her shut the fuck up)
"Gramma, she's taking the drink order. Stop. Look at the menu. Chill." I say quietly as I finger the pipe in my pocket lovingly.
Sydie quickley ordered her a fried shrimp off the kiddie menu. Crisis averted for the moment. 

Drinks ordered. 

"Where's the goddamn cocktail sauce? What did they go to the Shore to get it?" Gramma belts out the moment those nasty fried pieces of canned shrimp are placed in front of her. 
"You're being rude!" I say as I once again feel my precious pipe. It gives me comfort like a teddy bear does a child in a dark scary room. 

Once Gramma starts to eat I sneak out saying I have to go to the bathroom. I go outside to the light of day were humans are. I take a hit off my beloved one hitter, relish it for a moment, slowly blow it out so I can feel it hit each part of my throat and then I dial the phone.
"Hello," Sarah answers so cheerily that I want to bitch slap her. 
"Can you come pick me up?" I plead.
"I'm busy. What's wrong, where are you?" she says. (sure I'll just drive on my rims home again)
cough, guffaw, choke, snort
"What the fuck are you doing in Bennigans? Do they still even make Bennigans?"
"Shut up. I'm with a real living dinosaur Have some mercy."
"Okay, well, sorry, buck up Little Camper. I'm on my way to a grown up lunch."
"Fuck you. I don't love you Man. You only eat beans. That's just stupid Bob."

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Work Day Two

So I call Hunter to see what time she is going to work tonight cause coincidentally I work too. This is delightful for me to see her shiney face when I walk through the door. 
"Huhho." she answers.
"Are you okay?"
"I think I have swine flu."
"Oh for Godsake. That's stupid."
"No. Everything hurts. I feel awful. I have vertigo. I've had it for two days AND I was at the airport last night." Hunter adds.
"You picked up your Mom! You didn't rub your nose in a baby that flew in from Mexico!"
"I am sick. I don't know how I'm going to do this  for the next four hours."
  Let's keep in mind, that's what the job basically involves, sitting and checking people into classes. Once the mad rush of the 5 people go in the class she plays on the computer. She's not digging for coal or sewing in a sweat shop. She is sitting in one of the cushiest fitness studios in the area and playing Facebook!
I relent though. It's better to appease. "What can I do for you? Can I bring you something? Do you want some Dayquil? Some tea?" I ask as sweetly as I can muster.
"How about some Tylenol PM? I'm thinking I should take that." 
"You can't take Tylenol PM before you have to work! That's just stupid."

I get to work about 45 minutes later. She's whistling and dancing around like Lily Tomlin dressed as Snow White in her dream sequence in the movie 9 to 5. 
"Are you fine now?" I ask.
"Ever since I took those Tylenol PM's accidentally on purpose I feel much better." she answers.
Whatever... it is Hunter after all. 

I am driving home and she calls me. Instead of speaking to me I hear her say, "Hi Jordan." in flirty voice she puts on for anyone she talks to over the age of 17. 
"Hold on." she says to me. "I have to get cigarettes."
"I'll have the American something or other, cause I'm quitting smoking tomorrow," she says. 
I hear Jordan laugh in the background.
"Don't laugh, I know I'm buying cigarettes but did you know I work in a fitness studio now? That's right, I'm a fitness instructor. Don't forget the matches Jordan, I need matches. These cigarettes aren't going to light themselves." 

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

We're Not Related By Blood.

Act 1- Takes place at the Japanese restaurant over tuna tartar and miso soup:

Sarah- So what did you do last night?
Hunter- Well, Cousin Danita and her family came over so Stan could build a base for my bed for Sydie to sleep on when she comes tonight for her three week visit.
Sarah- That must of been loads of fun. Aren't they kind of weird?
Hunter- By weird, do you mean the fact it was an arranged marriage and  their 13 year old is gay and no one talks about it and their 9 year old eats 17 donuts a day and speaks only of desserts and Stan yells at everyone and Danita just ignores it? If that's what you're talking about then I'd have to say, yes, they're slightly odd.
Sarah- Sounds great Greg.  Guess what I did?
Hunter- Drank wine and played Facebook, Bitch? 
Sarah- Talking about hitting the nail on the head! 
Hunter-I couldn't even drink! My Gramma was watching my every move, plus I had to hold the mattress up the whole time for Stan while he was hammering and screwing.
Sarah- Were both you and he in your tiny little cell of a bedroom at one time?
Hunter- Not only Stan and I but Danita, the daughter, the son and Gramma eyeballing all of us!
Sarah-It sounds like a friggin' nightmare. 
Hunter-Or a fucked up trip, like that time in high school with the mushrooms when Suzy kept flicking her cigarette in her purse like it was an ashtray and pouring beer on top and you thought cartoon pigs were coming at you on the swing set and I had to listen to both you idiots,  kinda like that.  Add to that, that I was really stoned and the kid Jeffrey, who by the way was wearing a turquoise striped polo and pleated turquoise shorts kept talking to me about shopping and piano lessons and Stan was yelling at him and Danita looked like a Stepford wive, oblivious to the whole thing. She just kept with the smile and nod, smile and nod. It was freaky.
Sarah- Damn, you should of told me. I would of come over. Not. 

Act 2- on the phone talking about a whole lot of nothing.
Hunter- mumble, jumble, muffled sounds
Sarah- Are you smoking right now? Seriously, it's like 2.30 in the afternoon. Get a grip.
Hunter-   You need to shut up Princess, what the hell else would I be doing? My Mom is coming in to visit tonight for 3 goddamn weeks. My grandmother is going back and forth between yelling at me  for apparently shrinking her girdles in the dryer instead of hanging them on the line and asking me if I believe in "Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour."  I got up at 5.30 to work my new job today. I have to hang out with crazy cousin Danita while I drive with her to the airport at midnight tonight to pick up  Sydie.  Give me the respect I deserve and acknowledge that I need to be high for five fucking minutes. 
Sarah- By all means, smoke up Johnny.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Thwarting With Cheese

Times were rough. I was just past the worst of it, or so I thought. 

The day before my young boyfriend has accidentally knocked over one of my favorite things. My three hundred dollar beautiful, hand blown glass bong. It was like losing a best friend. Not to mention the smell of bong water on the carpet. That's never fun. Nor is it remotely pleasing to the senses.  Neither here nor there though. At this point...water under the bong. 

So after serving food to ungrateful bastards in the restaurant I work in,  I get in my car and head to Savannah. Savannah's got a Head Shop and that's what I need. 

I go in and buy a bong, not nearly as nice as the one that was lost in the War, but a smoking implement nonetheless . I head out to my car and don't two muggers hold me up? For Gods sake! What the fuck? Seriously! My bong breaks, I have to deal with assholes and now I'm getting held up? 
 They ask for my money. Um, I'm sorry, do you not see the bag with the bong in it? Where do you think my money is? Show me how smart you are. 

Of course I didn't say any of this, there was a knife in my side. I did say, "I have no money." They didn't believe me. I told the truth. "I stole cheese from the restaurant I work in last night to eat today. I really have no money."

They walked away.

Cheese saved the day. 
Like it does.

Thursday, April 23, 2009


Gone gone gone, she been gone so long
She been gone gone gone so long

Hunter went away today. She slept over again last night so I could do her 
hair before she left. She complained the whole time I did it. She hates her hair 
today. We all hate our hair the first time we blow dry it after it has been 
professionally done. It's the way of the world. 
There's just no getting around that. Knock it off.

She walked out of my house with my clothes on with my bags in her hands.
 It almost looked like me leaving. She drove herself all the way to the airport, 
she only txted me twice wondering if she was going the right way.
She made it. She parked. She got to her terminal. She landed in Miami. 
My little girl is growing up.

TXTs-to Hunter-edited to make us appear more "normal."
"If your plane goes down I will miss you like crazy but continue
 to blog as if you are alive."

"Did you make it to the Catalina or did you fuck it all up and now 
you're in Disney World?"

"Avoid anyone with a syringe or a cotton ball full of chlorophyll."

"No, I don't think we should start a business selling wipes in the airport.
 Genius, but there must be a reason 
they're not there already."

"No, I don't know why."

Then it stopped and...
I got a lot less txts today. 
I got a lot less phone calls.
I laughed less.
I didn't drink any wine.
I didn't get teased...
about my space ship,
 my hair,
my itching,
my dog,
my culinary skills,
my twilight zone life,
 my circus tricks 
or my eating habits.
I missed that. 

I did however get a lot of boring stuff done that I manage to avoid when she's here. 

Thank God  she's coming home tomorrow.

I love you Man. 

I just turned on the tv. Starsky and Hutch is on... not old school. Ben Stiller
and Owen Wilson S & H. Do you know what the opening song to this movie
Barry Manilow! "I Can't Smile Without You." Swear to God. Can't laugh and I 
can't sing. I'm finding it hard to do anything. 
As in all games we play I have to pick a character. I wanna be Hutch. 
Starsky's kindof a dork. Until that whole dance off when he's all coked up. 
That's the shit man. Right there.
 I'm still Hutch. Maybe we both are.
You know who Starsky is. 
Fo shizzle.

This movie has more one liners than Stripes. 
I stand by that. 
Seriously, Jason Bateman and Snoop Dog are in it. 
"Did he shoot Corky?
Your boy shot his tail off!
Corky lost his tail?
Yeah well you should keep that thing in a terrarium.
What the hell is a terrarium?
A terrarium is a artificial ecosystem, it's designed
to simulate Corky's natural habitat.
Well, I can dig that, but I say
we shoot him in the ass.
Oh, hell yes."
I don't think it ever got the acknowledgement 
or accolades it deserved. 
I don't even think it was considered for an Oscar.
That's just stupid Bob.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

To Legit To Quit

I really didn't think she was going to act any differently with her new found hair and toes. 

I was wrong. 

She went all Space shuttle on me. Unfortunately she not licensed to operate either a space shuttle or on a person in the Commonwealth. She was driving home on a dark rainy night. She took a turn to fast. Her cigs flew off the passengers seat all over the floor. In a misguided effort to tidy up she kept her left hand on the steering wheel, reached way over to the other side with her right, took her eyes off the road for a hair to long and managed to drive over a cement road thing and take out a sign. In the process she blew out two tires. Dumb. Mother. Fucker. Learn to drive. Stop making fun of me. Bite me. Harder. I love you Man.

That's where I came in. She got back to my house and slept over. The next morning on my way to work I had to drop her at her car. Or so I thought. Before we saw the devastation we couldn't figure out what she could have run over coming around that particular corner. On the way there she said, "What do you think I hit?"
"I couldn't even venture a guess at this point Hunter."
"Let's just hope there are no body parts attached to my bumper." she whispered. 
 With both eyebrows raised I said, "God willing."

We see her green jeep sitting on the side of the gas station and the left side of the car was significantly higher than the right. 

 We lost two good men in this one. Two tires down.

"I bet you're rethinking those hair products right about now, huh? That doesn't look cheap." I say.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God. They're going to think I'm an idiot." she said.
"Who, the gas station guys? They've seen worse than this. Now go in and see what's going on. It looks like it's going to take a while."

Out she comes. "I have to go with you. They said it would be a few hours."

Oh good. It's take your child to work day.

Talk about the right time and the right place.  As she was waiting for me to be done she heard them saying they were firing the girl who never shows up. Hunter moved in like a lesbian after the first date. She got that job. I've been trying to get her there since she moved here.  She has avoided it like the plague. Every day  I am teaching a class, her grandmother has to "get her hair done." Every week. Gramma's hair must be a hot mess today. But Hunter has a job.

Hallelujah. Praise hair dye, pedicures and the God of your choice. Hunter is almost legit. 

Every cloud (or flat tire) has a silver lining. 

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Jesus Hunter!

I'm sorry. I'm in the middle of a bizarre separation. Don't fuck it up anymore than it already is.

Bring Bring...
"Hello." I say.
"I'm in trouble. I ran over something. My car won't go."
"Seriously? Where are You?" I say, slightly annoyed.
"On that 3 road, real close to your house. Can you come get me?"
"Can't you just make it home? I think you're fine. Just drive."
"I'm on the rim. It's making a crunching noise. You need to get out of bed and come get me."
"God damn't. He's home now. Seriously?  Hold on! I'll be right there."

Go in. Tell him I'm leaving to pick her up. She ran over something. He insists on going and getting her himself, it's pouring rain outside. My husband, although estranged is a really good guy. 

I call her back.
"Act normal! You couldn't have eaten something today?" I demand. "Don't get me in trouble."
"I promise. I tried to call Triple A, blah blah fucking  blah."
"Listen to me carefully. Try your best not to speak. No words of wisdom. None of your manic bullshit. Just shut up and let him drive."
"I promise."

Twenty minutes click by, in which time I have to have a pseudo "sex talk" with my eleven year old daughter. Nothing like the icing on the top of the proverbial cake. 

They get home. 
Hunter hops into bed with me. 
Husband goes in bathroom. 
Whispering, loud not really whispering at all, "I told him he should find a girlfriend."

Fucking great. 

And She Told Two Friends...

Hold the presses. Newsflash! I'm gonna have to stop traffic again. Hunter has gone high maintenance. At least for a couple days. You can lead a horse to water man but you can't teach it to flat iron it's own mane. 
Today she pissed away the rest of that tax return. She went all girl on me and got her toes polished and then went so far as to get her hair done. It wasn't easy I'm told. Jay (her friends brother that used to peep at her when she was 16) had to use about 20 different processes on her weathered, sun bleached, unkempt hair. Let me tell you, up until about six months ago Hunter had the most gorgeous hair you have ever seen. It was about 6 feet long, never touched by color and thick as thieves. Somebody decided to do her a "favor" and chop it all off. Poor Hunter, she was her hair. Her hair was her. She has had that hair since we were about 12 years old. So for the last six months while she battled her way through the end of her divorce and moved her life 903 miles away (which I am forever thankful for) she has had to deal with looking different too. 
As stated above not only did she get her hair done, she got a pedicure. Holy Shit, I just got yelled at about that from her a couple days ago. "Sarah, you're going to have to do your own toes soon." That's just stupid. I'm glad she's seen the light. At least for today.
Now she just walked in my house with a bag of products. Yes! Products. What's next? Will she drive like she owns the road? 
No, that will never happen. She will continue on her hippie life style. She'll just do it with better hair. 
All day.
Next on the agenda is walking in heels. 
Baby steps.

Monday, April 20, 2009

The Old Smokescreen and Mirror Trick

After the parking escapade our Saturday night was rather humorous. We went into Sarah's favorite restaurant and had a much needed cocktail and good food. Our friend Bob joined us. Bob btw, doesn't know about this blog or that we write about him. I just thought of that, maybe we'll tell him at some point. Maybe not. He might cry.  We like to carry him around like a pocket pet.  He's so cute. We just love him. 

Anyway, we hang out for a while and then we want to smoke. We means Bob and I , Sarah doesn't smoke because of some mishap in college where the one time she decided to get high somebody put PCP in the weed. It ruined it forever for her. One bag egg Man, what are you gonna do? I won't  even go into how she tries to block the smoke away from her face, that's almost as embarrassing as the space shuttle. (screw you Hunter)   

Interestingly enough Bob owns the building about 30 seconds from where we are eating. It is a restaurant that he is in the process of selling so right now it's not open for business.  We decide to go there and smoke. We go to the upstairs part and he turns on the music and we are hanging out. It's in this killer old two story historical building right on the corner of the busiest part of the town we are in. This town is full of restaurants,bars a college, a courthouse and stores, it's over flowing with people this Saturday night. 

 Sarah was all long faced and slumped down in her chair because she was dragged away from her fancy bar for five fucking minutes while we cleared our heads. I really needed this after the "incident." 

 After a couple hits every thing became clearer. I had to wipe that stupid bored look of her face. I looked around the room for a shiny object that might catch her eye. I spotted it. Right in front of us. Four of them. Big giant huge historical windows with deep window sills, perfect for her to do her bendy weirdness. She's a big show off. So I say to her, "Hey, these windows would be perfect for your crazy party stunts. Why don't you go do one of your stupid human tricks?"

She lit up like a Christmas tree. Hopped into the window sill and began to contort her body just like a freak in the circus. I had a symbol and a drumstick that I used for a microphone from Bob's drum set. I decided to be the Circus Ringmaster.
"Hey out there. Look at the freak in the window.  Clang on the symbol What's she doing? What's she doing now?" I started yelling out my window at the people on the street. Clang
Suddenly a crowd formed.
"Hey, what's the girl doing?" Spectator one said.
"Look at that girl in the window." Spectator two through ten said. 
"Hey baby. Come down here. I'll take you out. Your boyfriend won't mind." said the college idiot. 
There were all sorts of characters down there. They were accumulating like ants. It was a frenzy. All of the sudden she dropped down off her hands onto her knees perched like Pocohantas with that blond hair flowing and starts flirting with the crowd.
A guy with a mohawk said he liked her hair. She leans down sticks her snout between the window and the street and Rapunzel answers back, "Oh, I like your hair too."
Bob and I were in the background amazed at how at home she was in the window.
He said, "It's going to be two days and you guys will be in the paper."

Then he blurts out, "That guy at Starbucks across the street is calling the cops."
I think he's just being old and paranoid. I didn't think twice about it.
Ten minutes later while cutting through the haze to get to the front door, Sarah says, "Look there's a police officer at the door."
I get all jumpy cause the weeds in my bag.
Bob opens the door and says hi. He knows the guy. He does own the building. The cop said, "We had a call that said a crowd was forming around your business and we know it's closed."
Bob mumbles something. Sarah smiles at him and I walked in the other direction with my smelly purse. 

We think we're on to something with our little show. An interactive freak show where we  legally verbally assault the crowd. At least that's our idea today.  

Now that I have to go find her a red velvet robe and sunglasses to usher her out of the building after the show. She thinks she's fucking famous. 

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Battlestar Galactica

The Space ship graduated to a Space Shuttle Enterprise. It was all sorts of whacked out. You're not even going to believe it, it's true. 
I was starving. She wants to take me to one of her fancy bars after last nights debaucle with the lesbian chick and the dirty boy. I'm Earthy, she's showered and used 15 different hair products and smelly stuff. I used Sandlewood and Pathchouli, I only mention so you'll know that she's actually from Outer Space. 
We're driving down a very narrow,  I think historical road to get to the fancy place. It had a fancy parking lot right next to it to park your fancy space shuttle and this is how it went down.
We approached the parking lot and a giant sign said, LOT FULL. Sarah, with a pissed off voice says, "It's not full." She drove past anyway. Then stopped in the middle of the road, cause she can and says, "NO! I know there's a spot there!" 
Reader, you might want to stop here cause it's fucking horrifying from here on out. Consider yourself warned. 

And she says, "Seriously, there is a space there!"
She then beckons a worker with a queen like wave. He wasn't close to us. He was coming from some kind of break. She demands of him, "You work here right? The lot says full, I know it's not, is it okay if I back the wrong way?"
"Yes, whatever." the kid says. Cause she's blond and she can do this. Fuck her. 

We're in gridlock traffic in the nicest day of the new year. We've been cooped up for months. This town is swarming with people. There is no room to move. I can't believe what happened next. She turns around and actually asks the car behind us to move with some sort of kooky hand signal that only blonds  do. The other driver was clueless, somehow they moved though. She did a ten point turn. It took hours (She's exaggerating, it took like 45 seconds). I was crying and cringing and covering my face. She stopped both lanes of traffic and moved one lane through the red light. I was mortified to the point of tears. 

Hey guess what? We got in, got a killer spot and I scored us two seats at the bar when there was a 45 minute wait. So bitch if you must Hunter, cause you did all fuckin' day long, but you know you had fun. So suck it. I love you Man.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

The Universal Sign

So we put on our final show at this  stupid  bar that we aren't going back to. Not because of anything we did, because it's stupid. It was a gorgeous night. We could have gone anywhere. For some reason that amused us at the time and  has to do with role playing and a break up with Hunter's stalker we thought we'd give it one last go. 

We bellied up to the bar. Hunter was all jumpy and hugging people and talking to the dirty boy that everyone likes. She thinks he's hot. I think he smells bad. She was warned not to go near him because the Lesbian looking girl boy she hadn't seen in twenty years laid claim to him.
In an effort to get Hunter away from the town hooker guy Anne (LLGB) introduced her to  a Sour Patch Lady named Monique. Miss High Maintenance Monique was bitchen' about everything. Ann grumbles something at Hunter with her pointer finger going from the up position to the down position and she was saying "Monique's boyfriend grumble something grumble bullshit blah blah grumble."
 A innocent look of concern and compassion crossed Hunter's face as she blurted out, "I'm so sorry. I hear that's happening to a lot of guys."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Sour Girl.
"Erectile dysfunction. Isn't that what's wrong with your boyfriend.? I think there is a pill for that."
"Why are you saying that? What's wrong with you?" Sour Girl says.
"Well, that's what Anne said." Hunter said, now confused. 
I am all out howling at this p0int with laughter. 
"No I didn't!" Anne said. "I said her boyfriend owned this bar."
"Oh," Hunter said, "Why is she making the universal sign for can't get it up then?"
"Why would we even be talking about that?" Monique demands.
"I don't know, I didn't understand why Anne was telling me that your boyfriends penis falls down. I'm sorry Pantera was blaring on the jukebox and I couldn't really hear what she was saying. That's where my mind went. Are we done now?"
Monique turns on her pointy little heel and jumped on her witch stick. Thank God for that witch stick because judging by her reaction we think we might be on to something.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Hairpin Turns At Breakneck Speed

So Sarah calls me and says, "You're never going to fucking believe this but I just got pulled over."
Oh, I would NEVER imagine that in all these years considering she drives her own fucking spaceship. She does all kinds of things she thinks she's entitled to in her spaceship. You've seen these as they travel down the left side of the road traveling at the speed of light and they see a shiny object to the right of them and quickly the space shuttle goes in that direction. It doesn't matter who's in her path. Old ladies, kids, semi's, she just turns. She just shrugs her shoulders, sticks her boobs out, cocks her little blond head and mouthes the word, "Sorry," as she fake cringes and she gets away with it every time. It's so fucking fake, it would piss me off if it didn't make me laugh.  I never get away with that cause I have dark hair and I drive like a human being not some alien. I'm thinking of going platinum so I can fly like that.
So I say to her, "So, what did you get pulled over for?"
"I was speeding, only doing 49 in a 35. That's not that bad, is it?"
"It's not good. What happened? Did you get a ticket?"
"Ticket? No! I told him I had to pee. Which I did. So he didn't want to hold me up. I did get a citation, no points though."
"Didn't want hold you up, are you fucking kidding me? Speeding around those back roads in school zones and he is going to send you the ticket. What did you show him a boob?"
" Shut up. He was a sweetheart.  Thank God I didn't get points cause I couldn't drive a company car if I did. I also wasn't wearing my seat belt, thankfully he didn't mention that."
"Company car, do you keep that after the divorce?"
"Shut up."
"I love you Man."
"I love you too. Now come over so we can lie out."

Thursday, April 16, 2009

If You Can't Make the Team

So I was out Friday night with some friends and I had started to get my party on a little early. What happened was unexpected because I can usually drink beer like a guy and hold my own. Unfortunately I was drinking Vodka.  I am pretty sure Dan the bartender slipped me a roofie in my vodka cranberry. Between that and going out with a fancy girl and my friend Bob to smoke things got hazy. Bob told me before we smoked to watch out. It was good shit. I had been dry for a week at that point. He was right, I should of watched out. 

Instead apparently I made a new friend. He seemed to know a lot about music. There was something weird on his lip and he wore a cap but he seemed different and interesting and smart. I realize now that was all the vodka talking. Vodka says some silly things. I know the term is "beer goggles" when you drink beer and that makes people more attractive. Vodka makes people appear smarter and edgy. What's that called? I think the technical term might be "Grey Goose Glasses."  I was wearing them. Wearing them proud.

 After a while I was getting really bored but I just couldn't shake him. It was getting late and  then the music came on. My driver friend wanted to leave but it was "Purple Rain." Come on Man, you don't leave when Prince (now a symbol, or he is Prince again? I don't know) anyway, you can't leave during Purple Rain. I had the air microphone going. It was awesome. Until I tripped over my own foot. When you start to not be able to use your feet it's time to call it a night. 
So we leave. We get in the car and start rehashing the evening. I say, "Wait, what was my guys name?" This sent the two fancies into hysterics. At this point I had removed my glasses and was feeling unsure of the night. 

It is my story and I'm sticking to it, I only gave him to polite peck goodbye. Bob says I all out kissed him. Bob's a fucking liar. 

So Saturday rolls around and who's lighting up my phone like a Christmas tree but Seth. I don't know how he got my number (yeah right).  He invited me to a concert. I told him I wasn't available. He continued to call me and tell me how he knew everything about me from Junior High School. It was turning creepy. I told him I was leaving for Florida for a week and a half. Why? I don't know. It made sense at the time. Now it just sounds stupid. 

I've since come to learn a little about him. First of all he's stalking my friend Bob. He wants to be on his softball team. They said no. I said, "He can't make the team?" I can't go there. Seriously, you have to be able to make the team. We begged Bob, "Please, can he be the waterboy, dust off the bases or something?" Let the fat kid play. So they gave him a sympathy try out and he did so piss poor he got heckled. Buh bye Seth. That doesn't work for me. 

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

So, How 'Bout Today?

I feel much better now that i have the weed. Even though it's raining, cold and disgusting, things look a little bit better. I do feel like calling Sally and just yelling at her for no reason at all. That's a daily thing though, nothing to do with being sick of it. It didn't bother me when the 2 year old I'm babysitting had a meltdown over the bowl she was using with the cottage cheese. I just gave her the container and some blueberries and let her play. I'm not to mad about the traffic that I had to sit in even though it was gridlock. I should have been losing my mind. That tiny hit helped. I'm not to mad that I have been stuck here for five hours and I have things to do. I'm not to mad at the bulldog here. Usually all he does is try and hump me. He did it today. I kinda liked it. No I didn't. I"m not to bothered I haven't read the spiritual tune up. I'm not to mad that none of my ex's have called me today. I need a new boyfriend. One that doesn't have ex in front of it. I'm not to mad that I haven't had any cigs today. I'm really happy I'm getting my hair done tomorrow, for the first time in eight months. I'm really happy that when I get done this fuckin' baby sitting job that I can smoke my weed. I am really really really happy that the weather channel says for the next three days there could be sun. There could be. It's a possiblility. I have hope. I know I'm not in the NE, I'm pretty sure this is London or Seattle or a rainforest. I haven't seen this kind of weather in 15 years. But it's okay, they said there could be sun. Then I will be really happy. And thank you Sue for sharing that you get your nether regions tidied up. That made me so happy to. Happy for you and for your husband. I guess. Kind of. A little. Not really. Not at all. Oh yes it does. 
I'm so happy. 
I love you Man.