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Posts Tagged ‘life’


I’ve been a bit under the weather. The doctor prescribed me a cough medicine with codeine.

Wrapped in a warm blanket snuggle into the depths of the sofa, the darkness had settled and with it a drowsy drugged feeling. I hadn’t coughed in almost an hour.

The light from the television pushing just enough light into the room to make out the patches on Grandma’s old quilt.

Soft elevator music played in the background while a man in the lobby of a large office building buffed the floor. A comforting fog moved into my mind.

What was the name of this movie? My mind drifted like a cloud.

A deafening crash echoed through the room as a body slams on top of a truck on the screen in front of me.

My chest was heaving my body tense, I was hardly able to process what just happened. I looked around at the people watching TV with me. They were staring at me with open mouthed amazement.

“Did I scream out loud?”

“Yeah,” my roomie replied.

I screamed like I have never screamed before. Hollywood pays people for this kind of high pitched, gut wrenching scream of terror. I tell you this so that you may learn a lesson from it. If you are taking cough medicine with codeine, do not watch a movie called Devil. I had to pray myself to sleep last night.

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After hours of shopping, I was trying on slacks in a brightly lit dressing room. Finally, I found a pair that fit perfectly.  Tight enough in the right places and loose in others.

When I stepped out of the dressing room to show my friend, she said, “You have the ass that could rule the world.”

Maybe I could rule the world. I seriously considered her statement before realizing there are already enough asses ruling out there now.

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109

Jim was a nuclear physicist, a brilliant man. Much to his own detriment, he didn’t know when to stop thinking.

He had been through a series of interviews. The job was basically his. All he had to do was pass a drug screening. I don’t know if they said drug test or not. I’m assuming not, they must have been vague.

The company had an on-site clinic where the test was performed.

So, Jim comes toddling in. The tech hands him a cup and tells him to return the sample to her desk.

Does Jim think “They want to see if I use drugs.”?

No.

He thinks “It’s a nuclear facility. They want to take a baseline reading now so they can measure the affects of potential radiation exposure over time.”

So instead of urine, he gives them a sperm sample. He is still trying to figure out why he didn’t get the job.

Can you imagine the technician’s reaction when a cup of sperm lands on her desk?

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My head was thumping. I was having trouble thinking.

Oh God!

I shot straight up, realizing the lump in the bed next to me was alive and possibly awake. A sliver of light broke through the darkened hotel room.

Minutes ticked by while my mind raced to remember.

Why was I in a hotel room? Convention, yeah, we were at a convention. Who was we? Me and my three closest friends.

A late night of shots and gambling left me hazy as to the details. The other three lumps began stirring. Three heads started popping up, then burrowing back into their pillows and back up again. If I had a mallet I could have played whack-a-mole.

I flipped on the lamp.

Holy mackerel!

I fell asleep with my friends in the room and woke up with three trolls instead. These women were able to completely change the shape and color of their features.

I have a heart-shaped birthmark on my cheek. I like to tell young tattooed people it started as a little heart by my eye. But by the time I’m eighty it’ll have fallen to my boob and look like an arrow pointing straight to hell.  I digress.

That mark is always there no matter how much stuff I try to cover it with.  I feel like a throw back to the Jurassic period.

I was on my knees praying to Maybelline to save me.

Holy Sephora! How’d they do that Cover Girl?

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magic cat

I have an idea for a story where the voice of the universe talks to a guy through his toilet. So what kind of guy would hear voices from the toilet —

I’m sitting here waiting in a cafe because the voice of the universe spoke to me through my toilet. I know, it sounds crazy.

My name? Now that’s a story. My father was a hippie. My mother was Native American, Comanche actually. When my mother was pregnant with me, they went to the medicine woman, who told them they must name me after the place where I would be born.

They planned to be in Phoenix, Arizona when I was born. I was going to be named Phoenix Arizona, kinda cool. Instead, when my Mom was seven months pregnant, they decided to go to a peace march in Washington. I was born in Washington, DC. So my name? It’s District of Columbia, District of Columbia Campbell or DC for short.

I’d like to think my parents were dropping acid, smoking a little too much ganja, or at least on a three day bender, but  they say they were high on love.

She also told them I was twins, girls, but they didn’t think to ignore her just because she was wrong on number and sex. No, they followed her instructions to a T. I’d like to kick the ass of a medicine woman about now.

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7 (7)

“I can’t let little Billy chew gum. He keeps swallowing it,” one of my friends, Anna said picking through her cob salad, no bacon, no onions, no eggs, no cheese, no ham, no croutons, dressing on the side.

I know what’s left, right?

“That’s so unhealthy,” Barbara, another of my friends agreed. She was still moving her plain chicken breast and broccoli around her plate.

Tammy was eating a “hamburger” sans the bread, ketchup, mustard, mayo, pickles and cheese.

They were all on a diet of some sort: Anna low fat, Barbara low carb and Tammy paleo.

“You know it takes a month to digest,” Tammy said.

“I know,” Anna agreed.

Barbara nodded.

The waitress set my second margarita in front of me. I was on the liquid diet, my favorite. “Seriously?” I exclaimed, loudly. I did say it was my second margarita, extra tequila. “You believe that?”

They and half the restaurant turned to look at me.

Anna rolled her eyes, “Didn’t we ban her from her tequila diet last summer?”

“You believe that gum sits in your stomach without digesting for a month? Oh my God, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Yeah, I think I’m remembering why.” Barbara whispered to Anna sighing.

“I can tell you for a fact that isn’t true,” I continued. “If chewing gum didn’t digest for a month, swallowing gum would be a cheap form of bariatric surgery. I’d swallow a whole pack every wee. It doesn’t stay in your stomach forever.”

“I love her on this diet.” Tammy laughed, hailing the waitress. “She’s about ready for her third.

(Based on a real life conversation. After that much tequila, you know who you are.)

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He’s breathing on his own. Thank you for all of your prayers and good thoughts. It’s an amazing turn around. Just a few days ago the doctor was surprised he made it through the night and now he’s sitting up.

I’ve been racked with anxiety since I made the decision to come see him. I’ve been nauseous. Eating makes me sick and not eating makes me sick. We didn’t part on good terms. I still don’t know how his family feels about me. (I’m staying close to the hospital, so I’m able to check in early and late, missing most of my in-laws.)

He’s been married and divorce since I last saw him. What will I say? Thoughts kept rolling through my head. I love him, but I don’t LOVE, love him. I wouldn’t mind being friends, but it might be too late for that.

I checked with one of my nephews and he said I should come and seem him. I don’t want you to think I pushed myself on him without taking his feelings into consideration.

Some of his buddies were in the room when I entered. I barely recognized him. He looks old, perhaps the illness has taken its toll. He’s had some hair loss and what’s left is white. He’s gained a lot of weight, some of that’s probably fluid.

When we were in the middle of our divorce and everything was so ugly, I imagined seeing him again. This wasn’t far from my fantasy. “I’m still looking young and you are old. Was she worth it?” I would say. (Of course she would look old too.) He would fall to the floor and tell me how sorry he was and I wouldn’t care. I would reply with various snide comments. “Should have thought of that before you left me for your mother.” (She looks like his mother.)

So what did I choose to say? Something amazingly insightful? Perhaps even a little biting. No. I said, “Hey what’s up? I thought you were going to dance on my grave. You’ve got to get it together. I’m depending on you.”

He chuckled. His friends chuckled and then the conversation turned back to chasing women. The reason we split up in the first place.

The doctors have scheduled him for open heart surgery tomorrow. He’s still in intensive care, but I’m optimistic. Tomorrow I’ll see his family. But for now, I’m going to go gnaw on some crackers and sip Sprite.

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03 (3)

Cloud Catcher

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57 (2)

What’s your caption?

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We’ll see what weirdness I can pull out today. Closing my eyes, pulling a volume, and opening to random page.

Drum roll please …

French Toasties

I’m pretty sure this is not French nor do the French want to claim it.

Make 4 sandwiches of 4 frankfurters. (Hate to pop bubbles so early. but frankfurter ain’t French.)

You split the hot dogs length wise and width wise and add mustard. (So far so good.)

But Auntie couldn’t stop there. Oh no.

Mix an egg, milk, sugar, and salt. Dip sandwiches in mixture. Top with grated cheese and paprika and bake. 

Okay maybe this one isn’t too bad. This great aunt was on a hot dog craze. Must have been a fad. On the same page is GLAMOUR DOGS which in addition to hot dogs, include corn chips, cheese, onion, Worcestershire, and tomato sauce. YUCK!!

This is officially the end of this post. I had a request for a couple of recipes I mentioned in a previous post. Those are listed below. They are part of my Auntie’s “Ladies Fare or Ladies Lunches”.

Frosted Party Sandwiches

Mix 6 oz. cream cheese with 2 Tsp. milk. 

Cut 2 – 1/2 inch rounds from 12 slices of white bread.

On 1/3 of the rounds spread butter and salmon salad. These are the bottoms.

On 1/3 of the rounds spread egg salad. These are the middles.

Stack with a plain round on top of the other 2.

Frost the sides and tops of the sandwiches with the cheese mixture. 

Decorate with shrimp, capers, olives, mint, parsley, etc. NOTE: Make several hours ahead.

As I remember she was quite creative with the decoration. She made a clock face from capers & slivers of olives, a champagne glass with bubbles, a martini glass, flowers, animals, and fruit.

Melon American

Thaw 2 packages of frozen raspberries and stir. Place in a cup on a platter.

Whip 12 oz of cream cheese and 1/4 cup of milk until fluffy. Heap beside raspberry sauce.

Cut 2 honeydew melons into 1/2 inch slices, arrange on platter and refrigerate.

When served, guests put a little melon, little cheese, and a little sauce on plates.

Ta Da, Melon American.

They’re red, white and green. I don’t know why she called them American. Don’t ask. Learn from me, it’s easier that way. 

 

 

 

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