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  1. Aging Crazily

    October 3, 2016 by C.


    Hey, everybody!

    Hey, everybody!








    As I get older, I’m becoming more aware that I’ll be a lunatic when I hit my sixties. How do I know this as fact? Well, my Mom and all my friend’s mothers are complete whack jobs in their sixties and my generation has eaten far more processed foods, been a million times more stressed, slept less, and done many more drugs, so in actuality we will probably be even crazier than they are in around twenty years.


    Now, this should make me a more sympathetic person to the aging mothers in my life, but quite the opposite. I strive to make them even more insane and bewildered. Let me give you a great example…


    I have a friend who made the HUGE mistake of dragging along her sixty-something mother on a vacation to the beach. On the first day, they decide to tour a fort that was on an island they were going to hang out on for the day. It was a gorgeous day and the fort was on the way to the other side of the island where they would lounge all day long on the beach, swimming and collecting seashells with the kids. Sounds marvelous, right? Well, old Mom took a tumble down the stairs in the fort tower and broke her femur (she tells everyone she broke her “FEMA” and they stare at her wondering why this woman needed FEMA assistance and how in the world she broke them). An emergency Coast Guard rescue from the island, surgery to place a rod in her leg, an extended vacation in a hospital room nowhere near the beach, not to mention a blown budget and you have a really craptastic vacation spent with good old Mom. Yay!


    After a grueling car trip home with doped up Mom and two kids who were wishing they had been born into another family, my friend made it home in one piece. Her main goal was to just get her mom home and things would be so much easier. Wrong! Mom’s a widow with no one to look out for her so my friend and her children took shifts watching over her because she was on a walker and had to have someone follow her around on it. Not to mention, help give her baths, fix her food, do her laundry and various other household tasks, shop for her groceries, get more pain meds from the pharmacy, take her to follow-up doctor appointments and take her to physical therapy three days a week. That hospital stay seemed like a spa week at this rate.


    Here’s where I come in…

    Being such a kind and generous human being, and hearing that her Mom was having horrible hallucinations on a certain pain medication, I ran right over to bring dinner for them all just so I could witness and perhaps help out with this hallucination problem (aka make her feel like she’s crazier than she really is or at least join in on the fun).


    It didn’t take long. She opened up her box of food I had brought in and started chowing. About halfway through, she froze, staring off across the living room floor.

    “Do you see that rat sitting over there in the corner?” she whispered.

    This was the chance I had been waiting for!

    “Yes, yes, I see it! Where do you keep your broom, Gertrude (I have changed her name to protect her innocence)?” I shouted.

    Both of the kids immediately left the room covering the giggling noises coming from their mouths.

    “In the kitchen…there’s a cabinet to the left of the refrigerator. Please hurry…it’s sitting over there smiling at me,” she responded.

    “Nothing worse than a cocky rat. I’ll beat that smile right off his face!” I replied.

    I ran off to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. I took confident strides back into the living room, ready to smash me an invisible rat (I would like to admit at this point, had it been a real rat, I would have left the premises upon first sight). I stood in the corner and beat her carpet with that broom until she screamed, “You got him! You killed that rat! Thank you so much!”

    This was the most fun I’d had in a long time. I was someone’s hero for doing absolutely nothing. As I returned to my chair, my friend rolled her eyes at me and mouthed, “STOP IT.”

    I stayed a little longer and Gertrude looks at me and says, “Can you turn on the Foxfire?”

    “Um, pardon?”

    “I don’t know what I did with that thingie. Can you turn on the Foxfire for me? And Bessie, (my friend’s name has also been changed to protect her innocence), could you please bring me some Ibupropaline?”

    I look over at my friend who was cracking up and she hands me the remote to an Amazon Firestick and says, “Yeah, turn on the “Foxfire” for her while I go get her some

    “Ibupropaline”. I flipped on the TV and followed my friend into the other room. I had to ask…

    “Why’d she change the names? Is it the pain medication causing this?”

    “Oh no, she calls them that when she’s completely sober. Just something she started doing a couple of years ago.”

    Good grief. I might as well start making payments on my padded room at the old folks’ home. I’ll make sure to pick a place that has plenty of Ibupropaline because as my Mom says to me, “Growing old is painful and you, my dear, are too much of a wimp.” 




  2. The Avis A-holes

    February 7, 2013 by C.






    I am back home after my month of adventures in cold and snowy Springfield, OH.

    Of course, my trip home could not be uneventful now, could it? It is me we are talking about. Good or bad, shit always happens to me that happens to no one else on earth. This was one of those circumstances.

    I got off work a little after 5 pm that Friday and was headed to the hotel to start packing for the drive home Saturday morning. I received a text from my weather guru friend Cindy, warning me of a snowstorm that I would run into somewhere around Indianapolis, IN on Saturday. Uh oh.

    After a quick discussion with Mom, it was decided we would leave that night. Bags flying, throwing dirty clothes at each other, we quickly packed up. I grabbed two of the carts for luggage to roll out to the car and we headed out the front door.

    The backseat was loaded with all the things we might need during our trip and we had saved the luggage and other baggage to put in the trunk. I pushed the button on the remote to pop the trunk. Nothing. I tried the lever by the driver’s seat. Again, nothing. Last resort, I tried the old-fashioned way and put the key in the trunk keyhole. It would turn, but the trunk would not open. Everything was tried to get the trunk open and it would not budge. So I had seen an Avis location behind the hotel in a shopping center. I drove over as quickly as I could to see if I could switch out cars or maybe someone there could get it open. They had already closed for the night.

    We had already checked out of our room, our luggage piled high in the middle of the lobby. I realized the trunk was frozen shut but I really had no idea how to fix that. Mr. Genius wanders into the lobby to suggest we go across the street to Target, buy a hairdryer and a very long extension cord and heat up the trunk until it pops. Did he ever volunteer to go out and take a look? Maybe see if his boy muscles could pop it open? Oh, hell no. Sure as shit ladies, chivalry is dead.

    I called Avis. The way I looked at it was if they would bring me gas for being stupid enough to run their car out of fuel, surely they would come open this trunk. I explained the whole story of a snowstorm coming, having checked out of the hotel and needing to leave town as soon as possible.

    Avis Asshole: “How did this happen?”

    Me: “God is trying to punish me for something.”

    Avis Asshole: “I am serious. How did this happen?”

    Me: “I have no idea. It is freaking cold here and it snows a bunch…my guess is that is somehow related to the trunk being frozen shut.”

    Avis Asshole: “Well, we don’t provide roadside assistance for frozen trunks.”

    Me: “But if I were to run the car out of fuel, you would send someone? That makes a lot of sense. I guess I will go run the car out of gas and then give you a call so someone can bring me gas and open the damn trunk.”

    Avis Asshole: “What do you want me to do?”

    Me: “Send someone to open this trunk or give me a different car to drive home. Pretty simple.”

    I have him on speaker phone in the lobby. Every once in a while my mom would jump in and say things like, “Well the next time her company rents her a car for a month she won’t be using Avis, you jackass.” I really don’t understand why he didn’t want to help us.

    He told me I could drive 25 miles to the airport in Dayton, Ohio and have them try to open the trunk. If they could not open it they would give me a different rental car to take home. I really didn’t want to do all that driving…such a waste of time. I just wanted to get out of there. I told Avis Asshole we were going to try one more time to get it open and if it didn’t work, I would drive to the airport.

    My bright idea was for Brittany (the desk clerk at Fairfield Inn) to pour hot water all over the trunk while I tried to pop it. She did and with the two of us pushing like hell it finally popped. I tossed the luggage in the trunk, we gave Brittany big hugs and took off.

    We made it back to Missouri without running into the snowstorm. I returned the car to Avis without saying a word about the incident. What do I get for keeping my mouth shut?

    Avis Asshole #2: “I guess I will have to get this in quickly for an oil change since you put so many miles on it.”

    Well, I guess I should have changed the oil while I was popping the trunk. My bad!

  3. 9 Things I Miss About Home

    January 13, 2013 by C.






    It has been a few years since I was sent off on a trip for work. My last trip was to sunny Jacksonville, Florida. This trip…to bitterly cold Springfield, Ohio.

    Normally, I enjoy traveling for work because you get to stay in a decent hotel, eat out and see new things. The longest I have ever been sent away was for 5 business days. This time, I was told up front I would be gone 2 weeks. That is a long damn time to be away from home. I sat and thought about it and realized the longest I have ever been away from home was for 7 days, when I took a trip to Hawaii. This was going to require me to actually go to a laundromat and wash my clothes instead of just stuffing my smelly socks into a big trash bag to take back home with me.

    I was here for a few days when it was suggested I might be staying here for a month. I must have done something really bad for God to be punishing me in this way.

    It is day 7 now and I have made a list of the many things I miss from home already. After a month, I will be a basket case for sure.

    1. My big screen TV. When you have to squint to watch TV something is wrong. I think the TV in my room might be 19 inches. At home I have a 60 inch. I miss my TV.

    2. My DVR. I did not realize how dependent I was on this electronic device. For instance, I have no clue what time/channel anything is on anymore because my DVR just finds it and records it for me to watch later. I have already missed Downton Abbey because I could not find PBS on this stupid TV. I don’t like to miss Downton Abbey.

    3. My washer and dryer. Today I had to go wash my clothes in a laundromat for the first time ever. I did not care for this too much. An elderly Hispanic man plopped his chair in front of my dryer and was watching my granny panties spin around in the dryer. I was going to act all mad about it and make him move but really I was a little flattered.

    4. My time zone. Eastern time sucks. I tried to keep my butt up late enough to finish all these football games but I have only managed to make it into the 3rd quarter before passing out.

    5. Home cooking. Even Bagel Bites sound like a treat right now.

    6. My garage. I am not used to scraping  ice off my windshield every morning. I tried to get the desk clerk to do it for me one morning. He refused. Talk about shitty customer service.

    7. My car. The rental car I have been set up to drive was made for midgets. I have already emailed the travel company that set up this car to see if I can exchange it for an Escalade. For some reason she hasn’t responded.

    8. Redbox. I rent a bunch of movies. These things are on every corner back home. I have yet to find one here. It would be nice to grab a movie to watch on my laptop one night but that just isn’t an option.

    9. My friends. Oh, I have friends here too. Brittani, the desk clerk and weirdo George across the hall (he sits outside his room in a pool chair eating Cheetos and waving to everyone that passes by). But they aren’t near as wonderful as my friends back home.

    I can’t wait to get home but I will make the best out of the situation like I always do. Tonight, George and I are roasting marshmallows over his lighter to make some smores. Good times.