Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for September, 2009

Obviously, it’s been quite some time since I’ve written here so I was surprised to find a few drafts saved from awhile back.  Please enjoy:

 

Mom was in town last weekend and per usual, convinced me to spend some of my hard earned money on stuff I absolutely do not need.  This weekend’s addition was patio furniture.  I know what you are thinking – E, if you didn’t at least SORT of want it, you wouldn’t have bought it right? 

WRONG.

My mother has these mystical powers in which she badgers you for hours on end to do something so dumb (like move your bed out into the living room, just to see what it would look like) and then she leaves and you think you can return to living life like a regular person except CRAP, your BED is in your LIVING ROOM. And you are too embarrassed to ask your neighbor to help you move it because they will think you are into something kinky and when you mutter something about “my mom made me do it” it just makes it sound EVEN WORSE. 

Anyway… patio furniture. So on Sunday I went for a nice little run, took a nice little shower, took a book out onto my balcony to enjoy my brand new patio furniture.  About a half a page into my book I realize some wine would be lovely.  So I go to get some and hey, neat, somehow I managed to lock myself out on my balcony.  

I call my next door neighbor because for some reason I had brought my keys out with me and I asked if she could come and let me in.  After pelting her with my keys, and 10 minutes of… “any minute shes going to walk through that door…. any minute…. AAAAAAnnnnnyyyy minute.”  SHIT. I remember that I had dead bolted not one but BOTH of my front doors.  

The neighbor helps me call our management company while laughing and pointing at how stupid I am.  They reply that this is SIMPLY not an emergency and they will get to it when they can. Maybe in an hour or so.  

This is when I realize that my neighbor is on a date.  I can say this with confidence because her date scales the wall of my apartment like a spider monkey and tries to jimmy open my door while I try and pretend that I’m NOT wearing Halloween boxer shorts in the middle of June and there’s TOTALLY a bra under this oversized t-shirt. 

So the date eventually discerns that my bedroom window is unlocked but he can’t climb over to it without falling to his death, and hey, I’m a reasonable person, so I only asked him to try 2 or 3 times before agreeing with him.  

We do the only thing we can think of and call 911.  

BECAUSE THIS WASN’T ALREADY EMBARRASSING ENOUGH. 

The fire department arrives dressed in their full gear carrying axes (I guess they were ready to chop my door down if need be?) and when we explain the situation to them they all look stunned…. as if to say “ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?”

Eventually I was rescued from my balcony, without making eye contact with a single fire fighter and promised to make them all cookies (which I later delivered to the wrong crew) and immediately called my mom. 

“I am never listening to you again”

“What?”

“I was just stuck on my balcony for 3 hours”

“So then you really DO like the new patio furniture huh”

click.

Read Full Post »

Chickens.  

My mom and stepdad have recently decided that instead of one of those silly banks, they’d like to sink their retirement into a “farm.”  Yes, that’s right Concord, TX – you are the new home of two complete nuts and one 14-year-old miniature dachshund! I’ll give you a minute to savor that.

My Uncle Bubba- who is the type of guy that says “warshin’ machine” and teaches his 5-year-old son to go frog gigging and therefore totally deserves to have a farm – had recently bought 12 chickens assuming that only 4 or so would live.

Up to this weekend he had 10 hens pecking around and promised my mom that she could have any survivors over the 4 he intended to keep.  I don’t think my mom has ever been so happy – including the time the doctor who delivered me checked and reported that yes, I was indeed a girl. 

We went to visit the chickens  and I could see the sheer joy and greed oozing out of my mothers eyes as she counted them.  

Unfortunately, there were only 9 full chickens hunting and pecking about and one pair of chicken feet sticking straight out of the ground.  

(Please do not ask me how a chicken burys itsself in the ground – I don’t even WANT to know what kind of kinky stuff was going on in that hen house)

Mom was still satisfied with 5 chickens and was walking around talking about how she was building nesting boxes and had a basket picked out to collect eggs in when the neighbor’s dog scampered over, snatched a chicken, and ran off into the woods like the happiest little bandit that ever lived. 

Moral of the story is – if my mom can’t even keep chickens alive when someone else is taking care of them…

Looks like we won’t be having fresh eggs anytime soon is all I’m saying.

Read Full Post »