A Day At The Beach

So, as most of you know, I go to the beach every day. Every day it's not terrible weather, that is.  I lather up my SPF 1,000,000,000 and lay in the sun. Why you ask? Freckles. Yes, turns out I'm a frecklephile. Don't even know if it exists. All I know is that I feel pretty damn epic with my freckle stache and even more epic when I spot new freckle colonies.

I have nothing to do with my life, fuck you.

So anywho, I lay out there, catching the rays without the cancer and it's actually pretty peaceful. Until you get some of those Southern mommas out there, "TYRELL! GET YO ASS OUT THAT WATAH! THERE'S ECOLI!"
Don't bring him to the beach if you don't want your daily dose of bacteria.

Anywho, that is not what this story is about.

I was laying down under the 90-some degree sun and a mother and her two girls come up and start setting up their own little pow wow near me, about 15 feet away. The girls were about . .. 5? 11? Hell if I know, I can't tell the difference until they're going through puberty. They were two-footers, I'll put it like that.

About fifteen minutes or so later, when all the gals were well adjusted to their surroundings and got settled, the little two-footers went to the water and came back with a bucket full of it to pour over their momma's feet. The littlest of the two looked over to me ( I assume it was me, I was the only one laying there in the vicinity) and asked her momma," Is she sleeping? Why is she sleeping when she can play?"

Her mom, shushing her, perhaps as to not have me hear, " She's not sleepin baby, she's tanning."

I kinda got a giggle out of that. I mean, the woman couldn't have known I was there to freckle, but to tan? I mean, I'm a pasty creature.

"What is tanning momma? What is tanning?"
She was persistant despite her mom's constant shush-ing.

I sat up on my elbows and smiled at the little girl, " It means that I'm as lily white as they come and I was not blessed with such beautiful dark skin as you. The sun makes skin darker."
The little girl cocked her head and her momma said, "That was a compliment, baby. Tell her thank you."

"But momma, daddy said white people don't like us! he lied huh?"
The girls mom looked at her like she was a ghost then quickly looked at me apologetically. I just laughed and told her not to worry.
"TELL HER THANK YOU AND GIT YO ASS BACK IN THE WATER!"
The little girl thanked me then ran off.

The woman smiled at me once more before sitting under her umbrella again.
I couldn't help myself but laughing but also thinking to myself that I saved a little girl from pre-determined racism.

Drunk. Plain and Simple.

Alright fine. You all asked for it... I actually do have one drunk story. One that, after much questioning and much time that has passed, I have agreed to share. Not usually my style, but this story is so outrageous, I believe it belongs in my blog. So here it goes.


Ever gotten so drunk you wake up with your head pounding, holes in the walls, your weave in the mailbox, and an angry call from someone's grandma telling you she aired out the tires in her relative's car so you wouldn't steal it?

Oh you have... Then your name is probably... censored, as all of the names are in my blogs. So I'll call her Mama.


It was a normal weekday... a Thusday I believe, recalling the walk I had in the morning to get to French class. I had a new friend, Mama, and she was kinda like me in all ways that were obvious- loud, obnoxious, and friendly. Of course we hit it off!

I remember when we were welcoming her from across the states in our little home upstairs in Diggy's apartment. She was so excited to meet everyone, but when she saw me for the first time, we both started screaming, jumping up and down, and RAMBLED like we'd been friends for years.
Oh yes, love at first site.

So on this Thursday, Mama says to me, "I just wanna get drunk!" Very excitedly.
"I'm not angry, depressed, I've never drank a whole lot before, why not?!"
"Bottle of vodka in my trunk." I smiled at her.
"Ooooh! We gotta get prepared for this, Tibby!!"

So we did. You'd swear we had the pre-drunk munchies.  We went to the nearest grocery and bought biscuits, chips, cheetos, cookies, and lots of orange juice. You know, delicious mixing purposes. We get back to the apartment, the guys are doing as they always did, always have done, and probably as they will always do- play some COD.

We make the biscuits and Mama is so excited, "Should I be scared?" She smiled.
"Nah, I'll take good care of you. We're just gonna mow down and drink, no big."
Foreshadowing..
We didn't even wait for the biscuits to cool before we shoved them in plastic baggies, mouths, and some in our chip bags. Of our bottles of orange juice, we drink about halfway, naturally, and pour the deliciousness into the bottle. Took a couple shots from the bottle (okay fine a few) then we walk to the park and here is where the magic starts..

I have been blessed with a cast iron tolerance, so yeah, for me this is "nothing to worry about". For my chocolate sister... girl had another thing comin. We sit down at the halfpipe of the park, our snacks around us like some kind of offering to the gods and begin talking.
Time lapse~
I notice her motions are getting a little shifty, "Hey, mama, we should start walkin back."
"Yeah but it's so nice outside!"
At this moment, she gets up and almost biffs just standing there.
Oh boy.
"I gotta peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Tibbyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!"
"The bathrooms are right over there," pointing in the directions of them.
We wander over to the bathrooms and dispose of our garbage. I was rather impressed we downed a whole can of biscuits, two bags of salty goodness, and enough liquid to counteract it.
"The doors are locked! Whatever, I don't even care," Mama said, as she walked to the front of the restrooms.
"Mama you're not... yes. Yes you are. Okay."
She doesn't even hesitate to pop a squat and start laughing her ass off, "Look! oh my gosh do you see me? BAHAHAHA dude I'm peeing on the bathrooms!"
"Yeah I see you." And I can't help but crack a giggle myself.
"It's so hot out here Tibbyyyyy."
"No it's not, you just MAMA NO!! PUT THAT BACK ON!"

She's already stripping her shirt but I notice she has a tank underneath.

"Still too hot," She says. But I coax her out of the second layer.
"Mama, we need to get you back to the apartment. It will be nice and cool there."

Those that are reading you know, you KNOW you can not argue with a drunk. If they say it's hot, then it IS and you say anything to appeal to them. If they say they don't care, then you damn well agree and say they don't care and coax them to sit down in a damn chair with a straight jacket. I, however, did not have one of those and I was freezing balls.

"I want more vodka!" She said.
"Well, there's more back at the apartment. We gotta walk that way to get there though."
It's more than a few blocks away and what seemed as a short walk before was now crossing into the New World.
"Tibbbyyyyyy, where are weeeeee?"
"Mama, we've only walked a block." I look back, gestering at the park.
"Oh, bwahahahahhahaaaaaa."
She tries to call her brother and I tell her he's probably sleeping.
"BUT HE LOVES ME!"
So she calls him, and I explain she's schwasty. He was a good sport and laughed it off.
Fastforward

We get to the apartment, but she didn't want to go in, knowing where the drink is, still in my trunk.
"You said so! You said so!" She yelled.
Okay, prepare to be mindfucked.
"Mama, it's upstairs, remember? We took it up when we took the biscuits up."
"O YEAH!! TO THE KITCHEN!" She said, but not before falling on the cement. Nothing bad, just kinda sat on the driveway.
"I have too much hair, you know that? It gets so hot and sticky!"
She tussles her own hair, but it messes up an extension. What better to do than to pull it out right? Wrong. She unravelled some kind of maze of weave.

"Uh oh..." She said.
"Let me help." Kinda laughing at the predicament. Okay so fine, I had a drunk moment myself and didn't know where to put her hair to keep it safe. "I'm gonna put these in the mailbox so we remember okay?" Boy was I wrong.
I get her up the stairs to the apartment.
Things are fine until she sees Diggy... they kinda had a thing once, but were friends at the time.

Drunk Mama didn't think so.

"Wake up! Wake up! It's me!" She said to him, petting his hair.

You know, we're gonna skip this whole part. It went on for hours. Me pulling her away, trying to calm her, she woke up the whole house, she tried climbing DOWN the stairs, I tried to hold on, then let go because she was being so agressive, she fell down a flight the first time and made a hole in the wall at the bottom of the stairs with her head.

I'm not gonna lie. I laughed my ass off. She did too, she had superman strength in her drunkness. She crawled back up the stairs then wanted to go down AGAIN! I didn't try to stop her this time. I just watched. And again, down the stairs.

Diggy at this point asks, "Is she falling down the stairs?"
"Yeah man."
He started giggling, "That's so awesome." Then went into his bedroom to get some sleep.
More hours of this and I've already sobered up. Unknowing of what to do with a crazy chocolate on my hands, I put her in the car and bring her to her dorm room.

Little did I know, not the smartest thing.

Her cousin was in the room and woke up to Mama screaming.
"What is wrong with her?" She asked.
"She's a crazy drunk. Good to know for future reference."
We get her into some clean clothes and lay her down. She goes through the motions, puking, crying, puking, sleeping, shivering, and I thought it was all in the clear.
"Keep the glass of water next to her for when she wakes. She's gonna want to keep hydrated."
And I walked back to Diggy's because we always walked together in the morning for French. I got a few hours of sleep and we started to walk.

"Sorry she woke you up man."
"It happens."
And we start bullshitting on our way to class when I get a phone call.
"Is this who they call Thibodeaux?"
The lady on the other end is making this sound like some sketchy drug deal.
"Yes ma'am."
She sounded surprised, either from the fact that I'm a gal, or because I was so polite.
"This is (Mama's) grandmother. I want you to know her cousin called me and she is now in my care. I have no idea what you two got into last night but I am very disappointed. I have a right mind just to call the police."
"Yes ma'am."
"And I have located her car and aired out the tires, so don't think about taking it anywhere."
"Yes ma'am. She has the keys in her room."
"I have no idea what you thought you were doing. I should press charges but I need time to think."
"Yes ma'am."
"Well good bye."
And she hung up the phone. "Who was that?" Diggy asked.
"Her grandma" I said, he knew who I was talking about.
"Yeah? She got (Mama)?"
"Yeah, said she might press charges. For supplying a minor."
"Oh... wait but you're not even..." He looks at me questioningly.
"No. I got it in Canada."
We both start laughing. "Dude, don't sweat it."

So I didn't. But that day when Mama came up to me crying, asking what happened, I had to explain the whole night. By the end of the tale, she was done crying and started laughing. "Psssh that's not so bad! My grandma made it sound like I did something dangerous!"

Don't drink and walk kids, or you might wake up with a hole in the wall and your weave in the mailbox.


Which by the way, we didn't even remember until a couple weeks later when we saw something furry poking out of the side of the mailbox. We laughed so hard when we pulled it out.

Humphrey

It was a normal day just like any other day. Kinda.


I was on the phone with my Queer, talking about the asinine people of life, jobs, and dreaming of travels that would always have to wait for a later tomorrow. 

See, I've been staying with the Mema whose stories you have all come to learn and love. First hand, you must know that her house, as all houses do, make the creeking, swaying, and scratching noises on occasion. I've gotten used to all of these noises - when the vents turn on, the rediculously loud gusting sounds that come; the sounds the doors and floors make when someone is going through the house, and, when appropriate, the noises the windows make when the rain pours on them, or how they rattle when the thunder wakes me up in the middle of the night to which I respond frantically grabbing at nothing but air only to realize it was thunder, then huddle with a pillow until I pass out from frightening exhaustion....

Different story, different day...

So, lying on my bed, phoning it up with Queer, and just as I am about to hang up to go about our seperate businesses, I hear a scratching at the window behind me.  You must understand, this was not a faint scratching. This was like a-branch-just-crashed-into-your-window-now-you're-screwed scratching.
"What the? Hold on a sec," I said over the phone, then sat up in my bed and turned to look at the window, not but three seconds after sitting up did I let out a blood curtling scream.
"What? What is it?" I hear over the reciever.
"WHAT THE EFF?! GET OFF THERE! OH MY- WHAT THE!?"

I began laughing hysterically and hear Mema coming frantically (which is still pretty slow) down the hallway to my room to see what had happened.

I hear laughing over the phone again," What the hell did you do?"

"It's a damn squirrel. It is ON the window. Not peering from the side, it is ON the screen. It is a big ass damn squirrel! I gotta let you go!" More laughter over the phone, then we hang up.

Mema opens the door, "What? What?"

"Look at that damn thing!" At that time, as if the bastard heard me, grappled its way to the side of the window where only its wirey tail was to be seen.

I retold Mema what happened and how it startled me. She laughed at me and shook her head, "Well damn."

Lesson today, children? Never underestimate the terror of Humphrey the Hemaphroditic Squirrel and his crazy cousins.

WallyWorld Dress Code

It was the end of the school year, and Queer and I went in to WallyHell to look at some stuff. I wanted a delicious sun dress, to be more specific.


Just doing the usual, staring at all the pretty bathingsuits I know that my tatas could never fit into, looking at terribly designed shirts with him, and finally in the middle of the aisle we found them: Sun dresses. He has always hated the style; says they just look like moo moos for skinny people and they don't give anyone a shape.

He might have a point, but if it doesn't require unconfortable pants, buttons, or underwear, I'm all for the comfort of the beautiful moo moo- esque dresses. I was looking through them kinda half-assed like.  A blue one there, a red one here, some with patters... I could pull off whatever I wanted but none of them were just... you know... BAM! Until I found it- deep in the pile of moo moos- the sexiest Sun dress ever! It was a black and white stripped one, the stripes meeting at the bust, and slanting downward in a triangle type dealio.

Whatever, it was a damn dress.

So, I wander off with him to Manworld, all the while looking for someone to let me into the dressing rooms.
"I'm going back to that lady that was near the dresses. Maybe she has a key." I said, referring to the woman wearing the uniform blue shirt and khakis.

It didn't take much to find her- she was still relatively in the same spot, in the teen section a ways from where I found my delicious dress. I approched her, as you approach all employees of this establishment... waiting for the deer in headlights look as if they've done something wrong.

"Hi I was wondering if I could get into a changing room?" I asked.
"I don't work here."

I immediately let out a cackle then ran like a madman in the direction of my Queer. I couldn't stop laughing until he asked, "She doesn't work here does she?"
I continued laughing and hid behind him as if she would come and strike me with the hand of Zeus.

I saw a gal with a scanner in hand, folding up men's clothes. "For the love of God, please tell me you work here? "
She started laughing, "Yeah, you need into a changing room?" She asked, gesturing at my dress.

I got into a dressing room, but pretty sure I scared the customers walking around on the outside of it.
"Bitch, shut up, you're scaring people." Said Queer.
I stood outside of it to let Queer tell me what he thought. "Moo moo." Was all he said.

"What about you? Any oppositions to this dress?" I asked the REAL employee.
"Dude that looks awesome."
"I'll take it."

I was to a dull roar by the time I got to the checkout to purchase my dress.  Moral of this story? If you're going to go to WallyWorld, (and you know what store I mean) for the love of all that is merciful, do NOT wear the uniform. Seriously, who wakes up saying to themselves, Yeah, this feels like a plain blue shirt with ironed khakis kinda day, ??

We Love Older Men?

As of recent, I've moved across the United States back to my roots in my lovely state of Missippi.  I've been hitting the beach every day for about three weeks now because (until recently, yay!) I have been jobless.  Here is just one of the incidents that has come my way involving the mighty male.

As some of you are not aware, men are bold in the south in many more ways than just one.  Some are brave, some will show off, and some will just downright tell you that you have a nice rack.  In this case, are brave enough to question you of all your life details without even knowing your name...


I'd been laying on the beach for a while and the sand had become very hot in the early noon so I decided to finally go out for a swim.  There were quite a few people at the main beach, though not as many as the week to follow with the temperature getting into the high nineties.  I was still on my way out into the water and only about waist deep when I saw him from the corner of my eye.

He was.. . older looking. Forties? Scruffy hair. A bigger guy. Friendly looking enough? Oh boy.

Ladies that have had this happen, you know what sixth sense I'm talking about - you can feel them not only looking at you, but searching for a way to approach you; searching for the right way to strike up the conversation.

"Doesn't get too deep out here does it."
Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner. Great conversation starter!
"No." What the hell else can you say?
"How far can you go out before it gets deep enough to swim in?" He asked.
There you go buddy, open ended questions.
"You can keep walkin out to the end of the pier before it gets deep."

The Pascagoula Beach Pier stretches out quite a ways. Don't ask me in feet, I'm blind in one eye and that somehow means I suck hard at telling distance.

"Oh wow," Oh no, here it comes ladies. Brace yourselves.. .
"Where's your husband at?" He asks.

I just shat a brick. There it is, floating off in the Gulf.
"Ha oh, what?" Dude took me by surprise! Seriously, I understand a bold move, but when you ask directly where my muscle is, it's not exactly comforting.

"Well," He starts, still not phased of my reaction to his question," I saw you go by and I thought that you were so beautiful. I thought you must have a husband at least."

"No not a husband," I replied, composing a nice poker face,"a boyfriend."
"Oh okay. How old are you?" He asked. Tits, with the quesitons again.
"Twenty-one."
"Oh, okay I'm probably too old for you anyway." I see that.
I just stare at him for a moment as he stares at me, waiting for some sort or reply.
"Thirty-eight." He says. I just shrug and smile, playing off it's not that big of a deal.
I think I'm way to nice to ever let someone down hard. Hell, he had the guts to talk to me, why not have the courtesy to be a lady in return?

"Where are you from?" He asked, again trying desperately to keep me talking.
"From here." I replied.
"Oh, you have an accent I've never heard before."
"Oh," Shit that's right. I sound southern to the North, and northern to the South.
"I just moved back from Montana. Too cold for my liking." I said, still smiling.
"That's nice. Lots of snow huh?" Yeah buddy. "Well that is a beautiful accent. And you're a very beautiful lady." Putting the stopper on....
"I just saw you go by," he restated, "and thought you might want to go on a date. Guess I'm too old for you." Lord, stop repeating yourself. It's alright darlin, Lord help you, it's alright.

"Well thank you. I should be heading back now." Noticing I've been standing in the waist-deep water long enough.
"Okay, I'm just going to the end of the pier to see where the beach finally drops off." He said, looking at me for some kind of company. I just don't want to.
"Have a nice day!" I headed toward shore.

Now ladies, this has happened to some of you before as well.  You're going away, he's going the opposite way, and all of a sudden you can't help but feel he's coming your way. Note, he's coming your way because he needed to go the same way, but wanted to stop the awkward before it got deeper.

I'll have you know, I get out of the water, glace back, and there he is about twenty feet behind me. I meander off to my towel that's on the other side of the pier and away from the main beach.  I noticed him leave and felt a slight relief. Mean? No. Sometimes it's just nice to kick back in your own awkward silence instead of trying to fill someone else's.

What did we learn today? Let 'em down easy. More importantly, just say you have a husband in the first place.

From Montana To Mississippi

Holy cow, been a while since I've been able to post. I have very limited computer access, so bear with me.  I will now tell details of my trip, with youtube videos to come so be watching for those!


Day 1(Sunday)- Who leaves on a Sunday you ask? Well, when you're Queer has only one day off a week from the job he has, you take that day to say your goodbyes. So yeah, I left on a Sunday.  Big mistake on my part. . . because when my car's engine light went on, you quickly find that there is no where open that can help you. . . plus also your Queer doesn't show up at ten in the mornin like he says he will. Oh no. You are stranded to roam the Montana city until a couple of Germans invite you to play mini golf and meet up with your queer later at the mall at about five in the evening for him to yell at you.  Delicious. Man I miss him.

Day 2(Monday)- At seven in the morning, I find out that my car needs fixin. . . about a $1,000 fix. Use the money I've saved to do my cross-country roadtrip? I think NOT! After bawling like a little baby betch, I find I can make payments. SCORE! Oh the car will be done by noon? Sure thing skipper.

So at about five that evening, my car is finished and I START my roadtrip. Blasphemous I say. First stop- South Dakota. From prior experiences to travelling to this state, I was a bit scared I was going to run into what me and the Asian like to call "The Derps". Drive,drive, drive, drive, drive, and I decided I can't have my eyes stay open any longer. Where was I staying the night? Where all the cool kids stay- at the trucker stop. I got my bros, that's all I need. My mother insisted I find a hotel. Where's the adventure in that? I wake with the sun, only having 4 hours of sleep, and keep driving.  My destination was only 3 more hours away. 

I didn't think my host (we'll refer to him as Anarchist) would be at home so I pissed around.  Finding little towns to terrorize, etc etc. Finally I got bored waiting for him to be on lunch break and went to the address I was given. Walked in and heard someone upstairs. "Hello?" I called up.
"I think he's in his room." A voice called down.
"THIBODEAUX!!!" I hear.
I ran up to see my greeter, bursting into his room.  The times of fun had begun.  Stayed at his place the night, met the roommates, the dog, up the next morning, and on to adventure.

Day 3(Tuesday)- This was a day of the long haul.  I stopped once to eat and stopping for gas when needed.  Everything was changing toward the end of the day. The air was becoming heavy, the sun was pounding. . .that day, I got news from the North that there was snow. PAH! Man that sucks. . .anywho, I get as far as Tennessee, a little hotel right outside Memphis. 

THIS was the defining moment of my trip.  THIS was when I knew I was no longer in a foreign place such as the north anymore. "Well hey darlin, what can I do for you?"
The exchange continued, I wanted a room, ID, get the key blah blah. . . but AFTER the fact she just sold me a room, this conversation took place. ..

"You can park around back if you like, closer to your room. Or you can park right in front of the office tonight and I'll watch your car. You know, we had three cars broken into last night? But I think that's because the owners of the cars made someone mad." She spoke with a matter-of-fact smile.

"Is that right?" I asked, not weary now. Hell, driving all day, I decided I could sleep in another truck stop. Have Big Boy Billy bring out his banjo and all the other good ol' boys so we can have ourselves a campfire oh the hood of their semi so they can all lul me to sleep. ..

"Mmhmm. You hear anything funny tonight honey, you just call me. I mean it. Call me for anything. If you miss your momma, call me and I'll be your momma for the night. Call me to chat. To feel safe. I'm here for you, ya hear me?"

Oh yeah, she was serious. "Yes, ma'am." I smiled and moved my car in the front of the office, walked up to the second floor and went to bed.

Day 4 (Wednesday)- Got up and went down for some breakfast. In the little dining area, weren't but me and two other gals plus the front desk clerk.  "You want some sausage honey? I can cook some up." She asked.
"No ma'am, some toast and jelly will do me fine."
The ladies were eyeing me from their table. I looked and smiled, asked about their morning.
"Oh we're havin a good one, baby." The bigger of the two responded. "We was just lookin at your dress, wasn't we?" Asking the other gal sitting with her. "Mmhmm that is a real pretty colour on you."

Just a red dress. A red dress that looked like it came from Jamaica and one you can't bend over in. "Thank you ladies. Where you headed?"
" Oh we're vacationing in Memphis. Just cheaper to get a hotel on the outskirts of town. Where you headed, baby?"
"Mississippi."
The started laughing with disgusted looks. "Ain't they got possums and some nasty things down there?"
"Haha, yes ma'am. Crocs, roaches, armadillos."
"Mmhmm, we saw an armadillo. Ran it over. Those things can take out your car you know? A natural armour, they have. Mmhmm. Well you take care baby and have a good one!"

That I did have. I got to Pascagoula in no time. Rolled up to Mema's place and everything had looked as it was when I was last there.

More adventures to come, so stay tuned. I saw that I get viewers from all over the world about my blog. AWESOME! Spread my stories, and maybe one day you'll see yourself in them :) Have a good one!

I Wish You Were Here

I thought my breaking point was the fireworks thrown at me.
I thought my breaking point was the alcohol spilled on me.
I thought my breaking point was the asshole trying to ruin my day.
I thought my breaking point was the person I want to talk to being a million miles away.
I thought my breaking point was the countless bitching to my face when all I did was smile and wait patiently.


None of these were my breaking points. 

My breaking point was a man who told me he could fix my car.
My breaking point was a man who spoke kind and soft words to me.
My breaking point was a man who put something positive in my day.

So now I sit here breaking down, saying a prayer for that kind man.
May he have a blessed week and a much better time than I have had.