Look, I'm a today kinda gal. But I am seriously wiggin over the idea of Miss Ellie being up there on my mantle. Course I KNOW it's not really her, but, yuh huh! IT IS! It was one thing to go with the whole cremation thing. It's what she wanted and that's cool. But nobody told me, I was gonna have custody of Ellie when it was all over.

The first day she was up there I found myself walking over to the urn and whispering...."are you in there?"

I'm constantly looking over there. And when Bob gets frisky in front of her, I freak. I don't say anything but....HELLOOOOO??? SHE'S RIGHT THERE!

One day Bob was talking on the phone with his brother and he said, sadly and sincerely, "I don't think I like having my mother in a jar." I almost choked.

Worst part is when they eventually decide where to scatter her ashes....ICK ICK ICK! What if the wind is blowing the wrong direction or something? What if....Ellie gets in my eyes. What if my mouth is open and I swallow part of her?

If I ever get to where EVER the hell she is....she and I are gonna have SUCH a talk!

Labels: after life, cremation, haunt, peeping, sex

As you know we have to go through all Miss Ellie's personal items. I've been in drawers I wouldn't dream of going in even with her permission. And let me just say this...I am soooo getting rid of all my kinky stuff at even the slightest hint of impending death. NO WAY do I want the kids finding nekie pics of me. They'd go blind!

Not that I found anything like that at Ellie's. But still! I mean, I have stuff, you know? Stuff I don't want people walking around the room with saying....'YO! LOOK WHAT SHE HAD!"

The fact that Bob lost a certain photo isn't exactly comforting either! I'm so gonna start taking all my vitamins. At least until I find all this stuff.

Labels: kinky stuff, personal, private

Thank you for that boundless amount of information. And in return here's a little tidbit for you that I find just as important. "If you eat enough fiber, your poo will float." Personally I've never eaten that much fiber but since you're obviously full of shit, I'd say you have big head start on the rest of us. Now go eat some prunes.

Dear Miss Ellie,

This time you've really gone and done it. What were you thinking not telling us about the infection you had? If you weren't dead, I'd smack the pee out of you for this! How could you up and die on me? Leaving me with all this whacko family crap to deal with? All I can say is.... you go right now and borrow a tablet and pencil from St. Peter and start writing down all the ways you're gonna make this up to me.

Gripe #1. The princess.
Your daughter came into my home and commanded me to keep my dog away from her (which meant me standing outside in the cold with my dog) All the while she kept yelling my name, sending me up and down the stairs to "get Bob, right now!" I put up with it too. Even though she was sitting at my computer, in MY office, using my crap! Ok, I admit, I did finally snap. But she had it coming. It's one thing to be ordered around in your own home. It's another to be talked down to like some kind of lacky. When she told me if I wanted her to write "this obituary" I would have to make myself available to her (while also watching my dog outside) I blew. I told her, "I don't give a shit if you write it or not. If you'll pick your snotty ass up out of my chair I'll write the damned thing." But COME ON! How much can a person take?

To my credit I did turn down the heavy shot of scotch offered to me by my neighbor. (and wasn't easy!)

Sadly, your daughter can also be amazingly sweet which totally screws with my head. Is she a good witch? Or a bad witch? I DON'T FRIGGIN KNOW! One thing is for certain, she has an amazing talent for making people cry. She had 3 people crying and running to me for help her first day here. GeezLOOeeze, Ellie. What the hell did you feed that girl? Human flesh?

Gripe #2
The dog. I had to fight like all the demon's from hell to keep that googley-eyed little dog in the family. (Jake says she has one eye huntin' and one eye fetchin') Arrangements had been made without my knowledge to have the dog removed from your home the day of your funeral. Think I didn't blow a gasket that day? I'm lucky I didn't end up in a home with people who tear their hair out and talk to imaginary friends, thanks to you. But damned if I didn't get George to take Molly. He loves her now even though he swore he didn't want two dogs. Sometimes people just don't know what's good for them. Fortunately, they have me to point the way.

Gripe #3
How come you had a flashy blue bra in with all those old lady unders and never told me? Were you living a double life? No matter. I gave it to George. He looks good in it.

Gripe #4
Why thee hell is my picture in your attic? I REALLY want to know the answer to this one, missy! #1's picture sits in a place of honor in the living room and I"m in the attic. WHAT THE HELL? Well, that's fine, cuz I'm making art out of your toilet seat. I'm displaying it in my front yard with your name and butt print on it. How ya' like that? HUH?

Gripe #5
How could you just leave like that without giving me a chance to say good-bye? Maybe...not saying yes, not saying no, but just maybe, I loved you. Ever think of that? Maybe I miss you. And maybe, possibly, you've left me with a big hole in my chest. When all the lights are out at night, maybe I remember and remembering hurts so bad I can hardly stand it. And it makes me angry at you for leaving like that when you didn't have to. Even more angry than I get with your snotty daughter when she talks to me like I'm the hired help.

Gripe #6
You didn't even leave directions to Heaven. Where is it? Up? Down? All around me? How do I find you again? When I need to talk to you, where do I go?

Not to make you jealous or anything but there were several deserts at your reception. and they were all delicious. PLEBBBT!

Labels: blue bras, death, desert, dogs, google eyes, heaven, hell, witches

Over the years, anybody that has read any of Crabby's stories, has no doubt had a laugh at her Mother In Law, Miss Ellie's expense.

Miss Ellie passed away this morning.

Pam and Bob, please accept my sincere condolences with the loss of your Mother. If there is anything......I'm here.

With love,
Carol

Labels: Miss Ellie

It's official. My brain has left the building and no one seems to know when it went, or where.
Remember I told you that ever since I got the Prius I've been a victim of nasty road rage by other drivers. They would come up behind me and actually try to push me down the street. One woman in a tahoe even cut in front of me, hit her brakes real hard then sped off into the right lane to make her turn. It was the damnedest thing since I was traveling 20 miles over the limit! Saturday it was discovered (not by me) that I had accidentally set the miles on kilometers instead of miles. Meaning (I guess) when I thought I was doing 45, I was, in fact, doing 20 something. Also meaning, my car is not the speed demon I thought and possibly I could not take Bob's Porsche in a race after all. (sigh)

That brings us to the final straw. The other day I was watering the new grass seed. When I came inside I realized I was watering my bedroom also. So outside I went, turned off the sprinkler, moved it, turned it back on. Then Friday Bob did the same thing. Set the sprinkler till water was raining in through the bedroom window. I told him about his blunder and he asked, "Did you close the window?" close the window..........DOH! no. I didn't even think about it.

If you add that to the fact that I tried to back out of the garage in drive (taking out the new lawn spreader and a couple of snorkels) ....well, things start to get suspicious.

I'm requesting an all out search for my brain who has obviously taken off without me. I have .50. It's yours if you bring back the brain. I need it. I'm turning into a big boob........ I think.

Labels: big boob, cars, missing brain, shiny things, video games

Sharing the Pink Pigs with ya Crabby...and everybody else. Enjoy the day!

I got my very first rotor-tiller this weekend assuming it would make a hard job ever so much easier and faster. I envisioned myself gliding along the mountain of weeds, row after row. Just me and my tiller skipping through the soil with not a care in the world.

In reality, when I turned on the machine, it went one way. I went another. It was a buck, thump, hop and tug dance from the pits of hell. By the time I was able to turn the thing off and go inside to, "please Lord", mercifully pass out, dirt and weeds were everywhere. I swear to you, I had a dandelion petal stuck in my teeth.

Living by the motto, "I'm a loser, not a quitter, I returned to work in heavier shoes with 3 glasses of water to hopefully give me some weight leverage. I rocked. I fought. I cursed. My hands and feet vibrated and my teeth clacked but I did not give up. Then I noticed several dark shadows passing overhead. Turning off the machine I saw 6 buzzards circling right over my head. (I swear I am not making this up) They did the same damn thing when my dog was dying. Miserable bone pickers!




"Frack you, butt wipes!" I shouted to the sky. (frack is my substitute for the better and far more satisfying swear that I'm not supposed to be using so much any more)





On I went. I tilled up bricks, golf balls, and a plastic hand. Then the back of the tiller flew off.

"Yeegads! I've killed it!"

No such luck. It was just the back panel to the battery pack. So we had to go to the hardware store to try and find new nuts and bolts. Bob drove because nobody particularly wanted me touching anything at that point. For some reason he drove with the windows down even though we have air conditioning. Guess he wanted to enjoy the spring air.

While we were sifting through various nuts and bolts I overheard one of the store employees talking to a customer. "Phew! Boy that is a ripe smell isn't it?" A little while later I heard a similiar comment. I left the aisle to see what they were talking about but everything seemed fine to me. When I turned to go back and help Bob, I noticed he was fanning his nose. hmm.

All at once, I had this humiliating notion. I raised my arm and sniffed my pit. Seemed fine to me. But the woman coming round me gave me an unusually wide berth. Could it be me???? I honestly didn't smell a thing. Course I have heard it said that people who stink rarely notice it themselves. I guess we'll never know.

Labels: buzzard, dance, earthquake, garden, stink bomb, suffer

To the two young women who made fun of the old woman that dared to look at pants in the young miss department:

That fat ass you were making fun of was mine.

Some things you should know:

In a few years those perky breasts will be staring at the floor. Your ass will begin to sag and after the age of....oh...35, your metabolism is going to change. Everything you eat will promptly and stubbornly attach itself to your thighs. Small lines will begin to form around your eyes and mouth. Your pert noses will begin to droop and (to the blonde in the designer short, shorts) you can most definitely expect a turkey waddle...right there beneath your chin. You're already starting to get one so, that's a no brainer.

In your mid to late 40s a great many food products will give you gas and you'll find yourself farting at awkward times. Most of us regular gals blame it on the dog or nearest man. However, if the two of you continue to be rude and conceited...there may not be a man around to blame it on. You see, no matter how good you look, no guy sticks around if you're a conceited bitch. Cause...frankly, you're too high maintenance and not much fun.

As for me, I was wearing weird looking clothes before they became fashionable. Sadly, the departments I'm supposed to shop in at "my age", don't carry much I like. So I end up over there with you, desperately trying to find something....anything, I like that will fit over my thighs.

I find myself currently in menopause and a mid-life crisis all at the same time. Oddly these two things combined have me incredibly pissed off most of the time. I'm damn well feeling the need to rebel against societies labels and thoughts on people over 50! How DARE you or anyone else in this world tell me what I can and can't wear. Screw you! I'm almost 56 years old. I don't have to ask permission. You don't like it, don't look. But don't you dare open your mouth to me again, ladies. Cause I am a menopausal bitch from hell and I got nothin' to lose.

PS. The camo's fit. Sure the zipper popped and they don't have a bigger size but...I replaced them anyway. Pleeebbbbt!

Labels: high maintenance bitches payback rebellious menopausal woman bad taste big ass

Currently I've landed myself in....an eensy bit of trouble so I don't have time to post all about it.
But I'll be back tomorrow.
To Summarize

1. Found out I'm not only in menopause but have arrived late to my own mid-life crisis.
2. Made the decision that if I'm leavin' this world soon, I'm gonna stop being so damned reserved and be all the me I can be. (that's kind of what started the trouble)
3. Friday - Sold my car. (yes, the one I loved so much, yadda yadda. WhatEVER! I don't have to explain, I'm mentally unstable.
4. On Saturday I was able to talk a car salesman into crawling into the back of a car on all fours to prove my dog would fit back there. I did not make him bark. (didn't think of it) Did not buy the car from him.
5. Lost 7 pounds and finally got the camos over my thighs. I wear them all the time looking for the two punk cheerleader types that made fun of the old lady in the young girl department. (me)
6. Bent over and broke zipper on camos. Now I have to pin them shut. But by damn! I'm wearing them!
7. Yesterday, sank in giant mudhole. (literally) I only have one sneaker now.
8. In process of changing my look. Why? Cuz I don't have to care cuz...HULLO...I'm almost dead anyhow.
9. Defaced Victoria's secret poster with black marker.
Today I have to get a car. My plans are poop without a car. I have lots to do before I croak and I gotta have some wheels!

PS. There were a few other things that occurred but, I don't wanna tell. Too embarrassing without explaination.