Thursday, October 25, 2007

here, have a rerun...Second Cousin Leota

You have BEAST to thank for this one. Go bitch at him.
________________

I have no idea if Bill T was really related to us. What I recollect is that he was supposed to have been some kind of cousin on my grandmothers' side. Anyway, he was a nice old guy. He used to come over to our house quite a bit, his wife in tow, and play cribbage with my mom and her friends until the wee hours. Every hour or so he'd slip off outside to the trunk of his car where he had a bottle of Canadian Mist stashed and sip on that while he stood in the driveway and admired the stars.

His wife's name was Leota.


She was 5000 years old, had eight hairs left, weighed maybe 75 pounds and stood four feet tall.
Smoked constantly. Sometimes she'd have a cigarette going in each hand and one in the ashtray. We would find more of them smoldering away all over the house, long black foul things melting a line in the counter top or the arm of a chair, or lying on the wool carpet in the middle of a glowing patch of nap.

Little Leota wasn't much for conversation. The complete lack of teeth was a barrier, as was the advanced senile dementia. Being perpetually pickled in vodka didn't help.
You have to stop and consider that for a moment. I can guarantee you she wasn't driving down to the liquor store even before the Altzheimers' set in because she couldn't drive and wouldn't have been able to see through the windsheild anyway. Where was she getting the stuff?
Every morning, Bill would get her up, run her through the tub, get her dressed,
shovel some Malt-O-Meal down her (very occasionally Maypo...she refused to eat anything else) and then set her in a chair out on the porch with her fifth of vodka and let her wave at the cars going by.
This was how a lot of poor, older people coped with a loved one's dementia, and still do.
She was loved. She was cared for. And as far as I could see she didn't have a bad life at all. What the fuck, you know?
__________________________

Now Bill and my mom would get playing Crib and nothing could stop them. They played like demons. My dad and I weren't big card players, and we would have had to have been real hot shots to keep up with them anyway, so dad napped on the couch and I hung out in my room listening to records.
Dad could fall asleep anywhere, anytime. And when he did, more often than than not he would have really interesting dreams. I grew up with it so I didn't notice so much but it could really freak a visitor out. From a dead sleep he'd suddenly burst forth with something like"Gahno farah muld gahyub! Call Jim!"with his arms waving around randomly.

Leota would sit at the kitchen table, watching the card playing. Occasionally she'd giggle. No reason, just joie d' vivre. Other times she'd come out with a brief statement and end it by saying Ha!
"You horse you, get that ol' cat! Fan room the store. Ha!"

Evenings at my house could be interesting.

The only thing she ever contributed regularly to the conversation was this kind of a verbal tic. She'd WUP.

Just out of the blue. No reason. She'd just be sitting there smoking quietly and suddenly out would pop 'WUP!'

Some days, you'd only hear one every two or three minutes. Other days she'd be wuppin' all over the place.

Sometimes she'd come up missing during the summer, when we kept the doors open. But all you had to do was be very quiet for a few minutes, and then off in the distance you'd hear 'Wup!' and you'd follow that. My parents were rather impressed when I showed them this discovery. You'd find her over in my Grandma's yard, looking over the fence at the neibors having a barbecue, take her by the hand, everyone would wave 'bye', and home you went, wuppin' all the way.

One night I was lying on my bed reading and listening to the intermittent 'Wups' coming from the kitchen when I was struck by a bolt of inspiration so hard it hurt my brain. Inspirations like these came frequently the year I was thirteen.

I crept down the hall into the entryway, where I was hidden from the view of anyone in the kitchen, except Leota.
Leota went 'Wup!'

I went 'Wup!"

Then she said 'Wup!"

I answered 'Wup!"

And she replied 'Wup!"

Everyone playing cards at the kitchen table was totally oblivious. Leota was having fun. I was having fun too when dad caught me.
He thought it was hysterical. I mean, yeah, he sent me to my room, but he was laughing.

An hour later I happen to glance up towards the living room and there's dad on the couch, peeking over the easy chair towards the kitchen.
'Wup!" said my dad.

The ensuing silence was so thick you could cut it!

"Wup!" came from the kitchen.
"Niilo! Now stop that! That's not funny!" yelled my mom.

Man, I fell OFF THE BED. I laughed so hard I think it stunted my growth.
________________________________________________________

You couldn't help but like Leota. She was in a happy, simple place, like a (really really wrinkly) baby (who smoked) enjoying a sunbeam.

Now, ninety-nine times out of a hundred Leota was happy to watch the card players; but sometimes she wanted a change of scene. However, because she had a form of Tourettes' that caused her to chirp "WUP!' at regular intervals like a smoke alarm with a failing battery, she was fairly easy to ride herd on.

The thing was, you had to be paying attention. She would go into closed rooms and stand quietly in the dark, nothing evident but the ember on her smoke and you'd never know she was there until you happened to hear 'wup!' float out from behind the door.

Once in the bathroom I heard a cheery 'wup!' coming from the cabinet right next to where I was sitting and about died of a heart attack. We found her in the basement standing under the metal laundry chute, wupping away, entertained by the echo.
________________________

This is what happened the very last time she visited:

One November afternoon, everyone was sitting around the kitchen table, my mom and all the other card sharks, partying it up loud and happy, knocking back the 7 and 7's. As usual I was avoiding all this by hiding in my room.

My mom came knocking on my door. "Leota's gone. Is she in here?"

Nope.

Since it was cold, and I was the kid, I got sent outside to look for her while everyone else staggered around the house hooting 'LeOOOOTaaaa....'

Me, I glanced around close by, listened for her, didn't hear her, and promptly put all thought of her completely out of my mind. Evidently everyone else did too, because when I returned they were all pretty surprised to see me. "Where'd you go?" asked Mom.

I needed to hit the Ritz. The half bath was for the card players, so I went down the hall to the master bathroom.

Knocked on the door. Nobody answered. I opened the door.

I found Leota.

My moms beautiful pink bathroom with the pink fixtures and the pink towels and pink curtains, yeah. Not any more.

Leota had been fingerpainting.
She had decorated the entire wall, from the floor up as high as she could reach, with shit.
She had painted the entire side of the bathtub with shit.
She had painted the entire inside of the bathtub with shit.
And the faces of all the cabinets.
And the mirror, the counter, the sink, and the floor.

Everything except the toilet, oddly enough.

The entire bathroom was covered in shit. And so was she.

She had a smoke going. She smiled at me toothlessly from where she sat on the bathmat. 'Wup!' she said.

Complete disaster. Yelling, buckets, throwing things out the bathroom window onto the lawn, people running in and out of the house brandishing Pine-Sol, playing cards on the floor, forget it. Total chaos.

I was gone when it happened, but I understand Leota got her very first shower that day at our house and didn't care for it much. She went home in a bathrobe. She got to keep it.

I was outside at the time. My parents put me outside. They were pissed off because I wasn't helping. I wasn't helping because I could not stop laughing and I couldn't walk. I laid on the back stoop with the tears streaming back into my ears and lost my mind, man; I howled. It was not my finest moment.

Yes I know that lacks class. But I was 13 years old. I had no class.

Not like I do now.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

MISSING ANY HOUSEPETS? LOOK NO FURTHER!

Halloween is the best holiday on the calendar, always has been, always will be. Unless you are a pagan and live in Washington, in which case you have to go over to Sucia Island and stand around naked in the rain all night chanting. Me, I would rather dress up in my death metal outfit and hand out candy to little kids.

I have this whole decorating scheme that I've done for the last few years that I think is pretty effective. There's a carved pumpkin on the front railing, nothing spectacular, maybe a line of lanterns leading up to the front door...ah, but once that door opens!
...rancho FirstNations...the deceptively charming exterior .

The whole room is lit with candles. Candles everywhere. Standing in the center of the room is a small table, draped to the floor in folds of black velvet and covered with ANIMAL SKULLS. In the center is a 'grimoire' with a goblet full of 'blood' (Mountain Dew Code Red) glimmering next to it. On each side of this book a coyote skull rests on it's fangs with bundles of incense tapers stuck in the eye sockets, smouldering away.
The centerpiece at the top of the display is a deer skull complete with a full rack of horns. You would not think it to look at a deer, but Bambi is one scary looking sonofabitch once the flesh is gone, lemme tell ya. I stick a red candle in the center of its' forehead and let it drip. This, I must say, looks fucking cool as hell.
In the center of the table is the 'evil grimoire'... this huge old book that I found at a garage sale. It's full of medieval manuscript reproductions, and I have it opened to the freakiest looking page.

I stand behind the door and open it up slowly so all anyone sees is the room. Then I step out from behind in full death metal costume, holding a bowl of candy.

One year the whole group of kids backed all the way off the porch and out onto the lawn. I had to follow them out with the candy bowl and convince them to take some. And we give out really good candy too-none of your cheapo 'Smarties and a handful of Brachs' here, we've got Reeses' Peanut Butter Cups! And Almond Joys! These poor kids RAN down the sidewalk going 'Did you see that? DID YOU SEE THAT?'

One year nobody said a word when the door opened. I peeked out from behind and mom, dad and all three little pirates were standing there with the white showing all the way around their eyes. I gave everyone extra.

Everywhere I've lived there's always a rumor about Satan Worshippers. I grew up with this. In fact the nearest local Satan Worshipper house was purportedly right down the street from my grade school. We'd go up their driveway and stand there looking at the place every day as we walked home from school. Now I can just imagine some poor old soul in there peering out through the privacy curtains at us little doofuses as she talks to her friend on her princess phone: "Yes they're out there again! Yes, again! No, just standing there! Every day at the same time, Shirley! "

If a pet went missing, it was blamed on Satan Worshippers. If some particularly egregious act of vandalism occurred-particularly if it happened on church property-it was the fault of Satan Worshippers. Everyone believed this. I believed this. You'd go over to a new friends house in a different neighborhood and eventually someone would ask 'Do you guys have Satan Worshippers?" and the house would be pointed out and the stories of pet mutilations and nighttime chanting would be told. The explanation "They moved here from California" was usually somewhere in the narrative.
Maybe they migrate north during Santa Ana season or something. I don't know.

Years later in high school when I was getting wasted regularly, the guy I bought from told me about going to some 'Satanic ceremonies' at his suppliers' house, and how it was all an excuse to get kids wasted and have an orgy. (This bunch were finally arrested in 1977.) The thing was, I remember hearing about them when I was in grade school...in fact, they were known as the "Stanley Avenue Satan Worshippers" to differentiate them from the 'Logus Road' Satan Worshippers'. So 50% of the rumors, then, were TRUE...after a fashion. This never ceases to amaze me...this was a small, ordinary town in OREGON for the love of Mike.
... oregonian satan worshippers worshipping satan satanically.

Out here in 'The Ozarks of the Northwest' there is a strong movement against the celebration of Halloween as such. Lynden, of course, leads the way. Out in Lynden they steadfastly refer to it as 'Harvest Festival!" and scatter the pumpkins and scarecrows about. Of course this is REALLY returning Halloween to it's pagan roots and it always cracks me up.
...baby Jesus says 'this party sucks. would somebody hang a couple of bats up in here please? my birthday isn't for another two months.

The celebration of Halloween 'as such' is the celebration of a CHRISTIAN HOLIDAY, dumbshits; the whole concept was invented by Christians in order to make people STOP CELEBRATING HARVEST. Oh, I love ignorance; I really do.

At one point in time we were the Satan Worshipping family for the Mt. Baker School District. Oh yes! Back when the kids were in Jr. High, one of my daughters dippy little friends came over for a Halloween slumber party and old mom here made the mistake of bringing out the Tarot cards.* I was a twelve year old girl once; I thought that kind of thing was cool, right? Oughta be a big hit, right?

...we could have games! and cake! and balloon animals!

My God I didn't hear the end of that one for years. The little idiots' idiot mother couldn't even look me in the eye the next time she saw me and refused to let her daughter come over any more. That went around that whole circle of kids and moms, too.
That's when I started doing the 'Satanic Altar' display. You want Satan Worship? I gotcher Satan Worship RIGHT HERE, baby. Look at the deer skull! THAT'S RIGHT THERE'S A CANDLE ON THE DEER SKULL! OH YEAH! IT'S BURNING! THE BIKERS ARE WORSHIPPING SATAN!

Here in town? My house is the most popular stop on the trick-or-treating circuit.



______________________________
*the same good christians who think nothing of 'seeking a word of leadership' from the bible. ever seen that done? you pray for the answer to a particular question and let a bible fall open. one person in a blindfold holding a pin stabs it down onto the bible and whatever quote it lands on is your 'word of leadership'.
...and no, i don't believe in tarot cards. but i had them. yup...the same ones my mother gave me before she found the lord...and started speaking in tongues, being a prayer warrior and 'seeking a word of leadership' instead of doing the ouija board.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

ok, back to sex. GO GET LAID...AGAIN!

Google, y'all. GOOGLE.

So then.
What I've learned in 47 years about meeting prospective partners:

... and no this is not bullshit, this is completely serious, I mean it, it's all worked for me and it still works for me even though I'm no longer looking...

1. Be female and married. Nothing brings the men parachuting down from the fricken' skies like being an unavailable fat woman married to a large, dangerous man. WTF?

2. Shop in the right store. Do you buy socket wrenches in the lingerie section at Sears? No. So then, if you want to meet serious minded people with jobs and money, the loud redneck dance bar on 'Bodyshot Thursdays' might not be the best place to go looking to meet one. This might be a fun place to take someone on a date*, yes... but not such a good place to meet that someone.

Example: Looking for a man with a job who doesn't spend all his time partying? Straight or gay, your chances will be better if you look in places where single men who are not partying are. Auto parts stores, car dealerships, the Harley place (which is a total meat rack anymore; its embarrassing. I strongly suggest that if you're middle aged and you're looking for a single person with dollars, GO NOW.) union halls, construction companies, sports equipment stores, the outdoorsmans' show... or simply go to the number one place to meet single men with jobs and cash: AN ANTIQUE CAR/MOTORCYCLE SHOW, SWAP MEET OR BLESSING.
YES.
Finding an available man at one of these events is as easy as dropping your keys on the floor. It's like a department store. Want a late model? Vintage? Looking for a Rolls Royce person as opposed to a Harley-Davidson person? Pick your 'vehicle'; there's a swap meet happening nearby. The only thing easier would be whapping them over the head with a pitching wedge.

STUDLY RAT FROBISHER ADDS THESE TOP TIPS:
Lorry/Truck parks long distance truck drivers have to park up. Go along to your local and strike up conversation with these men, they are probably lonely and could do with the "company". You'll be surprised how friendly they are. The motto is what happens on the road, stays on the road

become a Taxi driver do the night shifts, this way you can meet like minded people, especially when the pubs/clubs chuck out. If they can't pay the fare demand sexual favours.

become a Policeman/Fireman wear your uniform all the time. You instantly become a cock magnet.

Army camps/Naval bases travel broadens the minds, and if your going to a war zone your not going to be worried about a bit of leapfrog. Also drinking games and unusual male bonding practices can make for a fun evening.

HENDRIX ADDS:
"...guitar shops are a good place to meet guys too (it worked for me). But in order to meet guys with cash keep away from the cut price Japanese Fenders... you should aim to loiter near the Martin twelve string or the Gibsons."

3. Used book stores are dens of SIN. Honestly, trust me on this. I have done REAL WELL at these places, boys and girls. Horny, sex-obsessed book nerds are just waiting to drag you behind the stacks and show you their Edgar Allen Poe tattoo. Hang around your favorite titles and look thoughtful. Men: Be outgoing and approachable. Pick a target and ask book-related questions (and for the love of God AVOID THE SUBSEQUENT TEMPTATION to be a bombastic ass and 'impress' me with your superior knowledge, because it ain't, and you won't.) Wear tweed, a leather jacket or adopt the (recently bathed) emo look and you will be fine. Women: It's easy: anything low cut will do. In fact, simply being friendly and recognizably female will do over by the 'Science Fiction' paperbacks. Otherwise, simply pick out a likely prospect and ask them a book question or where you might find something. You'll be bent over the encyclopedias calling on God before you know it. Better yet? WORK at one of these places. Because, just, yeah.

4. Another place I've done really well is THE MUSEUM. You already have something to talk about, and you can wander around smiling and doing the 'Ooo, you caught me looking at you! Whoopsie!' flirty thing to good effect as you pretend to admire the Honore Dumaurier cartoons. Think about it - who WOULDN'T be flattered thinking that you find them more fun to look at than the priceless works of art on display? Even if you don't score you'll not have wasted an evening. It's a win-win sitch.

5. ART STUDENTS are ANIMALS. You get a roomful of people at evening figure study class all in one room drawing naked starving college students, with the smell of charcoal fixative and linseed oil lingering in the air....it's like mating season at the boner chihuahua ranch out in the parking lot afterward. And during the breaks. And in the hall outside the restroom. And during class when you ask someone to help you with the highlighting and they come over and you stand close together and speak softly and you can smell their hair and....mm-hm. You don't even have to know how to draw. In fact, it's a given that you draw shitty. Why else would you be there?


NOW GO FORTH AND BE FABULOUS!

p.s. DATE MUTTLEY he is red hot like LAVA.
_________________________________
*except on 'Bodyshot Thursdays' because that's just asking for trouble.

WHAT IS THE BEST E MAIL SERVICE???

DO NOT USE YAHOO MAIL.
unless you like lots of advertisements. if dat's you thang then yahoo mail is de place.
give them your money. nobody wants to see yahoo lose any money. good gracious me no. nope, not me. ever ever ever.

YAHOO MAIL IS BULLSHIT.


I have SO HAD IT UP TO THE TITS with Yahoo Mail. The list of indignities just keeps getting longer...dragooned into 'updates' that I don't choose, losing options every time, and the ADVERTISEMENTS ARE INSANE! That's all these supposed 'updates' are; is inserting more advertising space into the home page. JESUS H. CHRIST ON A RED BICYCLE. You're supposed to be able to go in and edit the advertising allowed your space; yeah, well, once you do that you get 'upgraded' to NEW mail where that option seems to be AWFULLY DIFFICULT TO FIND. I just changed my homepage to Google News; damned if I'm probably not going to switch to their mail too. Or somebody's mail.

Anyone just getting into this game? AVOID YAHOO MAIL LIKE THE VERY PLAGUE*. They have popups that WILL NOT STOP PLAYING and jump all over the page like some cheapass EBAY bullshit. The new advertisements come up in front of the drop-down menus in the toolbar so you can't access the options. The animated ads make you wait while they play until the very end until you can access your mail!

Yahoo used to be a great service. Now it's like an online 'People' magazine that follows you around like a two year old screaming VIAGRAVIAGRAVIAGRARAVIAGRAVIAGRAVIAGRA!!
BOTOX BOTOXBOTOX!!! MORTGAGEYOURHOUSENOWNOWNOWNOWNOW!!!
GETACHEAPLOANGETACHEAPLOANGETACHEAPLOANGETACHEAPLOAN!!!!!!

...fuck it.

I am outta there.

So, my darlings, I am actively soliciting advice and assistance. Who has good, no-nonsense e-mail? How do I transfer my saved stuff?

________________________________________
*unless you like lots of advertisements. if that's vous thing then yahoo mail is the place.
give them your money. nobody wants to see yahoo lose any money. good gracious me no. nope, not me. ever ever ever.

Monday, October 22, 2007

GO GET LAID updated! a couple times!

What I've learned in 47 years about meeting prospective partners:

... and no this is not bullshit, this is completely serious, I mean it, it's all worked for me and it still works for me even though I'm no longer looking...

1. Be female and married. Nothing brings the men parachuting down from the fricken' skies like being an unavailable fat woman married to a large, dangerous man. WTF?

2. Shop in the right store. Do you buy socket wrenches in the lingerie section at Sears? No. So then, if you want to meet serious minded people with jobs and money, the loud redneck dance bar on 'Bodyshot Thursdays' might not be the best place to go looking to meet one. This might be a fun place to take someone on a date*, yes... but not such a good place to meet that someone.

Example: Looking for a man with a job who doesn't spend all his time partying? Straight or gay, your chances will be better if you look in places where single men who are not partying are. Auto parts stores, car dealerships, the Harley place (which is a total meat rack anymore; its embarrassing. I strongly suggest that if you're middle aged and you're looking for a single person with dollars, GO NOW.) union halls, construction companies, sports equipment stores, the outdoorsmans' show... or simply go to the number one place to meet single men with jobs and cash: AN ANTIQUE CAR/MOTORCYCLE SHOW, SWAP MEET OR BLESSING.
YES.
Finding an available man at one of these events is as easy as dropping your keys on the floor. It's like a department store. Want a late model? Vintage? Looking for a Rolls Royce person as opposed to a Harley-Davidson person? Pick your 'vehicle'; there's a swap meet happening nearby. The only thing easier would be whapping them over the head with a pitching wedge.

STUDLY RAT FROBISHER ADDS THESE TOP TIPS:
Lorry/Truck parks long distance truck drivers have to park up. Go along to your local and strike up conversation with these men, they are probably lonely and could do with the "company". You'll be surprised how friendly they are. The motto is what happens on the road, stays on the road

become a Taxi driver do the night shifts, this way you can meet like minded people, especially when the pubs/clubs chuck out. If they can't pay the fare demand sexual favours.

become a Policeman/Fireman wear your uniform all the time. You instantly become a cock magnet.

Army camps/Naval bases travel broadens the minds, and if your going to a war zone your not going to be worried about a bit of leapfrog. Also drinking games and unusual male bonding practices can make for a fun evening.

HENDRIX ADDS:
"...guitar shops are a good place to meet guys too (it worked for me). But in order to meet guys with cash keep away from the cut price Japanese Fenders... you should aim to loiter near the Martin twelve string or the Gibsons."

3. Used book stores are dens of SIN. Honestly, trust me on this. I have done REAL WELL at these places, boys and girls. Horny, sex-obsessed book nerds are just waiting to drag you behind the stacks and show you their Edgar Allen Poe tattoo. Hang around your favorite titles and look thoughtful. Men: Be outgoing and approachable. Pick a target and ask book-related questions (and for the love of God AVOID THE SUBSEQUENT TEMPTATION to be a bombastic ass and 'impress' me with your superior knowledge, because it ain't, and you won't.) Wear tweed, a leather jacket or adopt the (recently bathed) emo look and you will be fine. Women: It's easy: anything low cut will do. In fact, simply being friendly and recognizably female will do over by the 'Science Fiction' paperbacks. Otherwise, simply pick out a likely prospect and ask them a book question or where you might find something. You'll be bent over the encyclopedias calling on God before you know it. Better yet? WORK at one of these places. Because, just, yeah.

4. Another place I've done really well is THE MUSEUM. You already have something to talk about, and you can wander around smiling and doing the 'Ooo, you caught me looking at you! Whoopsie!' flirty thing to good effect as you pretend to admire the Honore Dumaurier cartoons. Think about it - who WOULDN'T be flattered thinking that you find them more fun to look at than the priceless works of art on display? Even if you don't score you'll not have wasted an evening. It's a win-win sitch.

5. ART STUDENTS are ANIMALS. You get a roomful of people at evening figure study class all in one room drawing naked starving college students, with the smell of charcoal fixative and linseed oil lingering in the air....it's like mating season at the boner chihuahua ranch out in the parking lot afterward. And during the breaks. And in the hall outside the restroom. And during class when you ask someone to help you with the highlighting and they come over and you stand close together and speak softly and you can smell their hair and....mm-hm. You don't even have to know how to draw. In fact, it's a given that you draw shitty. Why else would you be there?


NOW GO FORTH AND BE FABULOUS!
_________________________________
*except on 'Bodyshot Thursdays' because that's just asking for trouble.