Going Away Party

This children, is a drunken story. It shall not be looked highly upon and all names are fake.. the story is real. This is what we call a bafoon children. Read on.

Nine in the morning. Three men say to a lady, "Lady! You gotta catch up with us! Time to start drinking!" Lady looks to the little Miss who is also present.
Miss shruggs.
"Lady! We're hungry! MAKE US FOOOOOOD!!"
Lady looks to Miss, "Like to come with me to get groceries?"

To the store they go and come back with ingredients to make spaghetti. Whilst the ladies were out, the men distracted their hunger by means of video games. Miss stayed in the living room with the men whilst Lady tended to the food.

Better catch up.... she thought to herself.

She lined up three shot glasses on the counter, reached into the fridge and poured Jager into all three. She emptied them, lined them up again, and repeated.

The Chocolate man looked up to see her downing the last one, "Hey! You're supposed to be doing those with us!"
"I'm catching up" she replied. "Six down, how many more to catch up?

"You did not just do six!" Said the Chocolate man.
"Oh yes she did" Said Mexican.
"We watched her," Said Miss.

Chocolate man poured another round. "This time, we take them together."

Chocolate man and Lady each shot one, and before Chocolate man could oppose, she did the third.

"BACK TO THE COOKIN!" She said excitedly.

This. Is going to be interesting.

Somewhere in the midst of cooking, she slinked into a mini skirt and her highest leopard print heels. "I wanna be pretty!!" She squealed with delight.

Now cooking in her heels, the men watched carefully, as not to have her break something. This was quite the show.

Once the Vodka Spaghetti was cooked, she dished it out to all her friends then a bowl for herself. "I want to eat outside!" She said.
"No! Said Roommate. "You know what happens when you go outside like this."
"I'll be good! I'll be good!" She screamed.
"We are going to regret this" Said Roommate.
He allowed her outside but only under his supervision. Instantly, "I wanna go for a walk!!"

"NO!" Roommate insisted. He put his bowl down on the porch,scooped her up, and had Chocolate man put her in the bedroom and locked the door.
Next thing you know, the Chocolate man is yelling, "GET OUTSIDE GET OUTSIDE!! SHE WENT OUT THE WINDOW!"

Lady escaped the room through her window, crawling in her mini skirt and still.... wearing the 4 1/2 inch stilettos.

By the time the men got out, she was running down the stairs and across the parking lot, laughing wildly as she went.

Oh wait you missed that- she RAN DOWN THE STAIRS IN HOOKER HEELS WHILST SCHNOCKERED. And we continue-

"But I wanna go on a walk! I'll be good! I'LL BE GOOD!" She plead
"Bitch you're screaming already." Said Roommate.
"I'll take her" Said the Chocolate man.
She squealed again, with delight.

she walked about 15 minutes away until they got to the beach. Then she took off running... same shoes.... through the sand and into the water.
She did not know the Chocolate man was afraid of jellyfish. She did not know she went too far out, almost past the pier.

"Get your ass back here right now Lady!"
She giggled, and tried to swim away in the barely 6 inches of water. Lots of sand was building up. Finally she stood up and began running away again, the Chocolate man trying to run out of the water in his jeans.

He was nice enough to let her wear his shoes home as he carried her's. His feet burning on the sidewalk. As soon as she arrived in the parking lot, she began running up the stairs and instantly into the shower. "Too much sand!" She was yelling and giggling and carrying on.


At about six in the evening, the Lady woke, chipper and uppity as ever. "Who put my clothes on me?" She asked as she walked into the living room.

They all just looked at her and the little Miss chuckled a little.
"Never again,"Roommate said, "never again."


So children, the moral of this story? Don't peer pressure someone who will make you regret it ;)

Success

Okay, so I've made reference to "tastes like honey on stale bread" or "tastes like success" and instead of trying to explain this damn reference a million times over, I will gladly let you all in on an inside joke of how the saying came into play.

So about... last summer, Squatsy and I went to Lake Fresno up in Montana on a particularly hot day. We were there quite a while- long enough to swim out to the island in the lake and swim back, frolic on the boat docks, and get mostly dried on the shore... shore? no, the edge. Stupid Montana lakes don't have shores.

Montana also doesn't have bodies of water NEAR anything... they're all out in the middle of no where.

Anywhozers, we were damn hungry and so terribly thirsty! On any other given day, it was a hands down that I would have some kinda food in the car- most of the times it was peanut butter and jelly with bread and doritos or some awesome shit like that.

This trip was more spur of the moment and we just kinda left, not even thinking about food stuffs.  Just for shits and giggles, I started rooting around in my car anyway. I found some bread in the back seat under the mountain of things in my car from whence I lived from that summer. Stale bread. . .. pretty sure from the weeks before when I had gone out and brought snacks.

I rooted around some more, and in my middle console found some honey packets.  Usually after working, I would wait to empty my pockets in my car and I would have honey, straws... whatever else a waitress has in her apron after work.

Squats and I each took a couple of slices of that stale bread, ripped open our honey packets, and poured on the car-hot substance. We locked eyes, eyed the bread, closed our eyes and prayed to god we weren't gonna get sick.

"What does it taste like?" She asked me.
After a few brief moments and a bite more, I looked at her smiling, "Tastes like success."
She started to chuckle, "Wait wait wait. So you're tellin me, honey on stale bread tastes like success?"
"Yes. Yes I believe so."
"I've always wondered what that tasted like....."


So there you have it. That is what I am referencing from and now you too can have an awesome saying that no one understands.

Family Time

Soooooo after begging and pleading, I finally decided to go stay with my cousin Juju and Mema in Mobile, Alabama whilst Hurricane Isaac was in motion. I don't have work for the time being, and I suppose being alone in my apartment would have gotten dull... I would have ran out of puzzle.


So staying at my cousin's has been a blast. I get to hang out with little people, Juju's five year old crazy gal, and 18 month old little guy.  Keeping him entertained is quite simple- an empty toilet tissue roll will do. As for the five year old, I think she talks more than I did when I was her age ( if y'all can imagine!) and she's all full of conversation. 

Being five and all, she's yet to get exposure to a crazier side of humanity- the side with tattoos, piercings, and wicked hair styles.  She's very curious about mine. Observe our conversations we've had these past couple days..

"Why do you have holes in your liiiiyups?" (She has an adorable accent and it must be noted!)
I chuckle a little bit, "I'll tell you when you're older. I have no idea how to explain it to someone under the age of fifteen."
"Oh. Well I have a friend and her sister has a hole in her nose. She wants one too because that's what you do when you're older."
"You get holes in your nose when you're older, huh?"
"That's what she is gonna do! Like her sister! Are you gonna get holes in your nose?"
"Nooo, not me. Where do you think the boogers are gonna come out if I have a hole in my nose?"
"GROSS!"

"You have holes in your ears too!"
"Yes I do. It's where I put my jewelry."
"Like your diamonds in your liiiiiyups!"
"Haha sure."
"I like them. I think they're beauuuutiful! I think they're pretty because they're blue. And I like blue. But not really. I like pink actually."
"Thank you?"
"Come play with my bunnies!"

*We're sittin on the couch and I notice her lookin at me so I look and smile back*
"You have orange hair."
"Yes I do. Rare for someone to have orange hair."
"Do people make fun of you at school?"
Well actually.....
I just chuckle.
"Do people make fun of you for your glasses?"
"No. People actually like my glasses. Do YOU make fun of me for my glasses?"
"No! I think they're preeeeeyuuttty. I have glasses too!"
"Oh you do eh?"
"Yeah. Minnie Mouse ones."



These are the fun times I have whilst during a hurricane. Family for the win.

Malachai and Copernicus

Today children is the annual celebration of the birth of a man that is very dear to me. He's been there through thick and thin, good times, bad times, and screaming like a banshee and many many soda spills. I would like to recall some of our memories together today. He is 22, and he is my Queer.


I've never met anyone like Queer. We met in Public Speaking class in college. Everyone thought he had a huge crush on me. This made me want to be as far away from him as possible, naturally. But when I went back to Montana for the summer and came back to little Bumfuck Wyoming, our bond was made very strong and he invested his secret in me... he doesn't crush on gingers. BWAHHA no really, let's get on with it.


I don't think I've ever had another friend who I've screamed so much at. We have fought all up and down the United States. Literally. Drove over 3,000 miles together up and down the coast and fought most of the way.  We've had screaming matches, crying fits, and farting wars on each other's pillows... girls don't fart.

We've gone to abandoned houses, climbed mountains, even gotten stuck in snow in his little Toyota eight times in one week.  We've seen a moose that we thought was an alien, possibly real aliens, and followed a creeper in a red car just like his just to see where it was going at the SAME TIME EVERY FRIGGIN MORNING AT 1:30 AM!! Another story, another day...

We've almost been in a million crashes together, no thanks to our dying laughter and spittle of Dr. Pepper on the windshield.  We've driven to Salt Lake to see awesome bands just to drive back for work in the same 24 hours. 

Together, we've cheated the system time and time again, and I'll not tell you how.  We've been pierced together, broke together, and broken hearted together.

We both came to meet in Wyoming running from something and found ourselves running into each other.  We embrace our miseries and our utmost joys together.  There is no one in the world I would rather share all of our memories with. 

We live 2,000 miles away, and he is still the best man in my life and has always been there for me, even when we were angry at each other. 


Darlin, if you're reading this, many adventures to come to us, my love.  I'll walk a thousand miles for you, as long as you'll walk four... because, let's face it. You hate walking.
I love you so much. But I have to stop typing before I cry.

I Bleep Out the Good Parts

So I get home from work one day and a delicious note is posted on my fridge from my roommate and her husband:

"Hey I just met you
And this is crazy
We're printing off concert tickets
So join us maybe?"

Fuck. Yes.

Work in the morning? Irrelevant. 
It was a two day concert and they had already bought tickets to go only to find out the day of the concert that military get in for free, so the tickets were just kinda extra. One for me, and one for some other random ass dude who's month they totally made.

Anywho, I saw awesome bands like Foxy Shazam, whose front man ate about six lit cigarettes at once, Gun Point, P.O.D. who I had been listening to since middle school, and to wrap up that first night, Hollywood Undead.  It turned out to be an all around marvelous show.

I got to the front of the crowd save for maybe about five people and the music was loud and I made a strange family to rock out with.  Anyone else ever have that happen? You're in a crowd so packed of about two to three thousand people and all of a sudden the closest ones touching your elbows and backs are your closest friends.

The next night was even more delicious. Not music-wise, I'll admit. Foxy totally made my life the first night. The second night was New Medicine, Covo, Halestorm, Chivelle, and Evanescence to wrap up the whole schebang.

But either way, we started out the night by figuring out how to pile six people into a four-seater jeep. I'll have you know it can be done. On the way there, the three air force buddies of Rich's (Georgia's husband) sat ass to ass in the back. We'll call them White Boy, Satanist, and Chocolate. I rode shotty with Georgia on my lap. Luckily and surprisingly, we didn't get pulled over.  Got to the concert, saw some faces, then made our move for the front. Slowly but surely we were to make it by the time Evanescence played. 

Rich snuck in some gummy bears and sour parch kids. At a concert like that, it's unavoidable for everyone to be asking, "What are they laced with?!" To which the response was always "nothing," but not like anyone ever believed us anyway.  Rich also filled up his camel pack with water, and when you're so far into that crowd, people were paying dollars for sips of his water.  SMART.

Again, we found our own little family, a different one from the previous night, but oh so entertaining.  One was a gal who's name slips me. She told us, "If you wanna get to the front, just call out some random name like you know them. Like this," and all of a sudden at the top of her lungs, "BIIILLL!!! HEY BILLL!! I'M COMING BUDDY!!" I never thought I laughed so much in my life.
"Wait no no, that name isn't common enough. Lemme try again, " She said, " BOB!! FUCKING BOB! HERE I AM!!" and everyone was looking around to see who the hell she was talking to. It was hilarious.

Our little amoeba of a group went from standing somewhat next to each other to being single file ass-to-crotch in the crowd. The best way to travel was a conga line. I told White Boy in front of me, "Sorry if I get a boner. There's kinda no avoiding you feeling it." He laughed and started telling me about how awesome Halestorm was. I'd never heard of them before that night, and I tell you what, their drummer made me realize why I loved dating drummers in the first place.

All that passion. All that hair. Mmm. 

So I bought a cd after the show, autographed and everything. 

It was kinda nice, being around all that testosterone again. Made me miss Wyoming... a little. But just a little. If you ever repeat that, I'll cut your pecker off.

anywho, then Chocolate hands me his wedding ring and his Aviators and starts in on a mosh pit.  There was no mercy on my shoes or pants. Then the other two guys tried to jump on the side of me where the mosh was happening. Protect the women? Whatever the reason, it was a delightful courtesty and I wish men were really like that in the real world anymore.

That's right, this is my damn blog and I will haterade all I want to.

So more moshing, women getting on men's shoulders, other men (and myself) screaming at them "TITS OR GTFO" mwahhaha.....

Eventually we all got to the front gate. I will not disperse as to how we managed, but we did. We found a truck load of little eleven year olds up there. Rich, Georgia, and I formed a wall around them to protect them from the mosh behind us.  Who in their right mind brings eleven year olds to that kind of concert? Either way. We formed a wall. Because we're cool like that.

When Amy Lee came on the stage, the crowd went wild needless to say.  We were so close, we saw the glitter on her body.  It was awesome.  After I heard a few songs of that set, I decided to bail on my post.  See, when you're a housekeeper and are on your feet for about eight or nine hours a day then go to a concert that you are on your feet from six to midnight you tend to not give a rats to bail on the crowd early. I went and sat on the concrete just passed the giant ass crowd.  The sound quality was actually better there.

Not too long after, Georgia and Rich appear. We found a bench and parked our asses until it was all over. 

FAST FORWARD

The other three finally meet us back at the jeep.  Us gals decide that sittin on the other's lap is NOT going to work. We were dirty, smelly, and our shoes were possibly HIV + at that point. So, where do you put a sixth person if not doubled up in the front? Across the men in the back, of course! Since it's a real beach jeep, the top nor sides were on so it was easy for me to maneuver.  "Just don't let me fall out the sides okay?" Easy enough for them, strong men as they are.  That first U-turn was a crazy bitch! If you ever have the opportunity to be reckless in this aspect, do it. Scary. So White Boy, gentleman as he is, somehow ninjas some shit with my legs and tucks them in the vehicle. So now I'm comfortably splayed with my head rested and my legs out of harms way.

Then there was the area at the stoplights where a crapton of police were manning the traffic control.

Shitballs.

So now, I'm doing the most awkward backbend in the world where my head is now down by their feet. This doesn't really work all too well when you are a well endowed woman. Just saying. So the guys were all leaning on me, nooooooo, no there's no body in our fucking laps. nothing going on here.

After about three excruciating minutes of uncomfort and praying to God the po po didn't see us, they signaled for our lane to get moving and off we were.  A decent twenty minute drive home. No one died, I didn't get decapitated, and all was well until we hit the railroad tracks. I got a good couple inches of air.
"Save the vagina! it's the most important part!" Said one of the guys.

By the time we got home, we were all exhausted. An awesome concert with awesome people and an awesome cd for the memories. 

I am Thibodeaux, and I approve this message.

Workin Workin Rappin'

Alright, so most of y'all know I started workin as a housekeeper again. I love what I do but mostly I love the job for days like today. We were on the last room of the day, so me, another trainee (under the alias of Priscilla) and our supervisor (under the alias of Dee) were all workin together to get it done. Just so happened the room was a mess- the start of a beautiful story.


"There were kids in here!" I told Priscilla, lookin at the small sock left behind after the visitors left.
"Mmmhmm, look at all them crumbs!"

We grab our gear and start cleaning- there were Oreos all over the damn place and a bunch of chewed up papers.. yes. Chewed. Up. Papers.

"You know, if I had kids and brought 'em to a hotel, I would beat em." I said.
"You would what?!" Prisc asked.
"Beat 'em! Ain't no child of mine gonna crumble no cookies all over the place and live to talk about it!"
"Baby girl, you ain't got no kids! Talkin bout beatin other people's kids; you hearin all this?" She asked Dee.

"Hearin what?" Dee came into the room and Priscilla started laughing.
"She gonna beat the kids! Ain't no cookies to have for these churrdrin!"
"I heard that. I'd whoop they asses. No I wouldn't even bring 'em." Dee shook her head.
"Tiffany gone beat the damn kids. Ain't even got no kids. Shoot!" Prisc started laughin and cleanin again.

After everything that was said for the next five minutes, Priscilla ended it with, "And Tiffany gone beat the kids." It got funnier and funnier each time.

After loosening up from a long day of work, we were scrubbing and making beds and vacuuming and Priscilla started layin' down the beat as we bobbed our heads to it:

"Tiffany gonna beat the kids WHAT!
Cuz' they got all over cookie crumbs YUP!"

And that's how the rap about disciplining the children started. I love my life. Errday.

Jazzy Wrecks.

I've done nothing but beach time since I've been here in Mississippi since May. I strolled the news paper (a delightful old-fashioned source of information) and came across a jazz festival in Mobile, Alabama that happened last night.

I called the only gal I knew in Sippi, (We'll call her Georgia) and the stars must have alligned that day.

She was available to go to a jazz festival with me and I actually had the means to go.

We get to Mobile and found the sketchy run-down looking victorian-style house that the festival was happening in.  We were thrown off a bit when we got inside. We decided to wear pants and a cute tee, as not to look over dressed- turns out we were underdressed. It was a ritsy bunch, women in their Southern best, floppy hats, and gaudy jewelry, while most men either wearing a button up with black slacks or a pressed polo. Oh yeah, just a wee bit underdressed.

But jazz is jazz. And when we got in, found out that Jumbalaya, baked mac n' cheese, eggplant casserole, and tons of other deliciousness were to be served for the occasion.

We piled our little bowels and plates, finishing off with strawberry shortcake and enjoyed our stay.  The band consisted of a piano player, tuba player, and a surprano sax player, all very talented in the arts of jazz and rag time. 

Everythign felt right. Finally, a time to just chill out and enjoy the company of a friend. Then of course, the occasional flirting of a gentleman sitting a a table next to us. That's another story.

So the festival ended and we were wanting to explore more of the town.  The pretty buiildings and their lights were too much to leave too soon.  Then I saw an underground tunnel- one I recognized from the year prior that lead to where a cousin lives.

We drove into the tunnel, enjoying the bright yellow lights, then turned around and went back.

"What is this song and who does it? I've heard it but a few times before but I really like it!"Georgia asked.

I turn up the volume a bit in the car,"Home, by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros."

We get to the end of the tunnel, and I decided we should go right, back into the city part of town.  I slowed down quite a bit from the 45 speed limit, only going about 15 now to turn at the green light. Had I known there was a lane paralleling the tunnel, I might have looked a second time to see that I was in the clear.

A loud boom sound and next thing I knew, I was on the curb on the street that I was turning to and there was a maroon car that I'd hit that was on the street further up from me.

"You okay?" Georgia asked, "Yeah, you?" "Yeah."
She immediately got out of the car to go check the other vehicle. I followed suit, grabbing my phone and dialing 911. We walked up to see a dark skinned gentleman.
I think both of us blushed a little... who wouldn't? The guy was gorgeous!
He said he bumped his head, I told dispatchers where we were located, and in less than ten minutes two police vehicles arrived.

"I am so sorry, " I began apologizing.
"I slowed when I saw you coming. It's okay it's okay," and he smiled a little. Mmm.
Georgia also apologized, hoping he was okay. "I'll be fine, it's just too bad we had to meet in such circumstances," he replied to her.
"You're car looks okay except for some scratches," Georgia said.
"Yeah, and my car is a little bitch who can't take a punch." I said, making him smile a little again.

Pretty soon a fire truck showed up with some medics to check him out. Then a tow truck to take my car away.  What was once an empty street was beginning to fill with random pedestrians who were 'just walking by' and when they saw there was nothing to marvel at, walked away once more.

Oh, you're curious as to the damages?

Well, indeed, his car was just scratches. No headlight damage, no real dents from what we saw.
My car? Like a finger flicking plastic. The metal above the passenger wheel is dented in and smashed on the tire. No lights busted, the car still runs, no flat tire, no airbags deployed...

My car had to get towed because of something simple a crowbar can shimmy out. I understand, proceedure, proceedure...

At least the cops were nice. "Are you from Montana?" The policeman asked. I had a Jeff Foxworthy's There's your Sign moment when he asked that. I really wanted to say, "Nope. Just have a Montana driver's license and plates for shits and giggles." I didn't.

I just cocked my head at him and started laughing. His other cop buddy exchanged glances at him like I was high.

Before you know it, Georgia and I were telling them our life stories of how we're from the south, moved to the north - each of us- and it's all coincidence how we seperately ended up in Mississippi and got to the jazz concert tonight.

Then the cops started joking with us, "There's nothing to do in the north is there?"
"Nothing." I said.
"Well, depending on what you like!" Georgia said, defending her notherners.
"Hiking. And snow." I said.
"Haha, must not have road signs up in Montana." A cop joked.

Little does he know ladies and gents... littles does he know...

The po po ended up taking us to a Mickey D's until we could find out who was to rescue us at 10:30 in the evening. Oh yeah, best part? We rode in the back. Bars and all. I got to film it, and when I have means of getting it on youtube, it will be up.

About 30 minutes later, cousin Juju comes to save the day. She takes us back to my Mema's and I drive Georgia home to the next town over in Mema's car.

On my way back, I fell asleep behind the wheel and side swiped my car for 20 feet against the side of a bridge.

That last sentence is false. But I hope all of your hearts skipped a beat because that would be funny.

My car is in Alabama, we are all safe, and that's what happens when you go to a Jazz festival.