Saturday, April 25, 2009

G Day

Just a short post. Had a wonderful morning with my bestest friend G. The first text said "Get up. I'm hungry" so we headed off to Barksdale's for a cheeseburger and fries at 9a.m. Really, is there any bad time to eat a cheeseburger?

Then spent the morning wandering around the C-Y neighborhood for their first annual neighborhood yard sale. We started at my old apartment and borrowed a map from them, and hit a-many-a yard sale. My biggest score is one of those outdoor new HD antennae. You know MyFella lives way out in the country and we've been pricing them at $100. It's our only hope of receiving a signal way-tha-f out there. It looked like all the pieces were there, with a price of $20. I asked the guy about it and he said, "If you're thinking about it, I'll slash it to half that." Oh, well, if you'll slash it, I'll buy it. Now MyFella and I have to figure out how to climb a pole or something to install it. 'course, he works for the local utility company. Surely he knows someone who can climb a pole. (no dirty thoughts there)

G bought some clothes, and we wandered up to Cafe Ole for a little patio time. I love me some Rose, and lucky for me she was there. So I got a Rose hug before she had to go back to waiting tables in her section.

My neck is sunburned. I can feel it. Oh well.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

A.I. from Arkansas

Arkansas sho does know how to grow some good looking guys. I'm not sure that even in my high school days I was as cute as Kris. And I'm as Arkansas-guy as they come. I'm voting for him just because I'm a fellow Arkansan.

Monday, April 20, 2009

"I wuz jus tryin to eat my dinner"

Backwoods white trash.
So I'm in the elevator today at work, two maintenance men get in. One is older, has a pony tail sticking out from his baseball cap and some leather knife holder on his belt with a skull and crossbones on it. The other is young, early to mid 20's, and cute in a not-super-cute redneck sorta way. So the younger one starts telling the other one some bizarre story.

Basicly, he's married and has a girlfriend. His girlfriend and his wife know each other. He's had to tell the girlfriend to quit coming around so often because the wife will figure it out. Then he says "We were all out together. How fucked up is that? My old lady and my girl."

HELLO - You're what? 25? Old lady? Geeze.

But the story gets better. Where are they? The Huddle House. The Huddle House. OK. Whatever.

His wife is sitting next to him saying "Hold me" and his girlfriend is across the table rubbing his leg with her foot. Then he says in the most-country-azz accent imagineable "I was jus wantin to enjoy my meal." You're at the Huddle House. Come on.

Then he goes on about (we're walking down the hall by now, I'm all of 3 feet ahead and I will admit I have paced myself slowly. It was like listening to a train wreck). . . how "I wish I could get them to touch each other. I mean, if it's all about me, right, that's what I want." OhMyGawd, how incredibly mundane. There's not a unique bone in your body. You're 25, cheating on your wife, your idea of eating a good meal is the Huddle House. And you've absolutely got to wonder what it would be like for them to "touch each other."

Common as pig tracks.

Sunday, April 19, 2009


Slept til 10:30 this morning. Don't hate me. It was after midnight when we got in from the rodeo at U.T.-Martin and the bedroom window was up, so the air was cool and the sound of rain kept falling.

So he says to me "You're not talking very much."
I said, "I'm not a morning person."
He said, "It's 10:30a.m."

OK. It's the philosophy, the concept, not the actual time. geeesh.


I found an old outhouse in MyFella's backyard. OK, ok, to be honest, I found it in his next door neighbor's back yard. And to be really honest, she owns like 20 acres. But yeah, the outhouse is like 100 feet back maybe and pretty much on the property line.

I had walked over to kind of look at the land, trying to just get a feel of the land around us. When I said, "Uh, is this"and he said, "yea." It's an outhouse. He said it had probably been there 70 years. It was old from his memory and he's 40 plus. Looks like the current land owner had thrown some old trash and what-not in there, but when I opened the door, no denying, it's an outhouse. Complete with a lid. MyFella said you have to put the lid down "to keep the snakes from coming up."

"To keep the snakes from coming up" ~ ? ? ! ! WhatTha? "and if you hear a popping noise beneath you, it's just the frogs." They get stuck in the muck and it makes a popping sound when they pull free. Who knew?

I'm gonna label this post "adventure" because, well, surely finding an outhouse all of 100 feet from your boyfriend's back door counts as an adventure, right?