My Friends “To Do List” for When I Die

January 31, 2007

OK… so most of you know this already, but it never hurts to reiterate, since we were probably drunk when we had the original conversation…

When I die, do NOT bury me, CREAMATE me. I’d prefer a huge funeral pyre blazing on a make-shift wooden raft right around mdnight in the middle of a picturesque lake located in a beautiful valley and surrounded by rugged mountains, and thanks for asking. Yeah, yeah, yeah….. I know… how often did I ever get exactly what I wanted out of life, and why the hell would I possibly expect it to be any different after I’m dead?

Do NOT put me on some somber display and mourn my death. Don’t cry, or try to be quiet with murmurs and whispers in what some call “respect”. If you love me, and know me at all, then you know I’d hate that. Instead, build a bonfire by the afore mentioned lake, party like you’re 21 again, plaster my picture on one of the kegs or coolers, and celebrate my departure. Be happy for me, ’cause i’ll FINALLY be far away from Wynne, with no chance of ever having to return. I’m pretty sure Amanda can supply you with the appropriate photo. She displayed it on her mom’s fridge for YEARS. Try to do it on some private property somewhere, with permission of the owner, of course, so the cops can’t bother you.

For the music, grab my cd case and crank up the volume. Sarah and Steve know my favorites. Hell, Sarah still has my absolute favorite cd, and Steve has copies of my top 50 tunes. LOL! But for the very last song… the epitaph… the eulogy… the final farewell… I want you guys to raise your glasses, flick your bics, smoke a fatty if ya wanna, and play “I’m moving on” by Rascal Flats. It fit me the first day I heard it, it fits me to this day, and it will still fit me when I’m gone. And yes, kimmie, I’d be thrilled for you to lace a hog-leg with my ashes and smoke me up, so I could be with you “forever and ever”. It might just be the sweetest, smoothest smokin’ thing you ever toked on!

Don’t think for a second you have to talk about “the niceties” of my life, or the rougher times I made it through. Instead, tell the stories of the stupidist things you ever remember me doing. Talk about my dumbass ideas, hair-brained schemes, off-beat ideas, and the goofy quirks I had. I once read “you are only as strong as the tables you dance on, the drinks you mix, and the friends you roll with”, so party hard, drink hard, hugg each other hard, and remember that i loved you, and would do anything for you. I’ll be with you always, and you’ll know when I’m there. I’ll be the thought that makes you laugh out loud in the middle of silence . When you trip over your own two feet, or lose sometthing you just sat down in front of you… that would be me fucking with you. When your watching porn and need to suddenly turn down the volume or go to a black screen because someones suddenly walking in unannounced, I’ll be the reason you can’t find the remote, the volume suddenly blairs and the power button is stuck. When you just can’t believe something that stupid happened… I caused it. I’ll also be the tune you find yourself humming, the $20 you didn’t know you had, and the dumb-luck that saved your ass.

So… don’t miss me when i’m gone, ’cause I won’t be!

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I Was Wondering…

January 18, 2007

Instead of talking to your plants, if you yelled at them would the still grow? Only to be troubled and insecure?

If I break the laws of Physics do I go to jail?

Will you die if you get scared half to death twice?

If quitters never win, and winners never quit, than who is the fool who said, “Quit while you’re ahead”?

Sooner or later doesn’t EVERYONE stop smoking?

Why can’t we make newspapers that don’t smudge?

Why doesn’t onomatopoeia sound like what it is?

If you choke a Smurf what color would it turn?

Whose cruel idea was it for the word lisp to have a s in it?

If someone with multiple personalities threatens to kill himself, is it considered a hostage situation or a murder?

Why does the psychic hotline ask for your credit card number? Shouldn’t they already know it?

Why do they lock gas station bathrooms? Are they afraid someone is going to clean them?

Why are there flotation devices under plane seats instead of parachutes?

What’s another word for thesaurus?

If you throw your pet cat out the window of your car does it bec0me cat litter?

Why is it called a TV “set” when you only get one?

How did a fool and his money get together?

Why is it that when you are driving and looking for an address you turn the radio down?

Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?

Why is it that when you transport something by car it is called a shipment but when you transport something by ship it is called cargo?

If you have an open mind is there a chance your brain might fall out?

If the entire world is a stage, where is the audience sitting?

Why in a country with freedom of speech are there phone bills?

Why is it that when you tell a person that there are 400 billion stars in the sky and he’ll believe you, tell him a bench is wet and he has to touch it? ,

How do I set my laser printer on stun gun?

Why do fat chance and slim chance mean the same thing?

Who really took the bite out of the Apple logo?

Why when you say a color a lot does it start to sound really strange?

How many licks does it really take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?

If 75% of all accidents occur within 5 miles of home, why not move 10 miles away?

What was the best thing before sliced bread?

If there is no God, who pops up the next Kleenex in the box?

If the cops arrest a mime do they tell him he has the right to remain silent?

Isn’t the best way to save face to keep the lower part shut?


If it is zero degrees outside today and it is supposed to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold is it going to be?

What does Geronimo yell when he jumps out of a plane?


The Mechanic and Me

December 16, 2006

Tales From the Countryside (CH 4)

I was a daddy’s girl, and I grew up southern style. By that, I don’t mean I was a “tom boy”, nor was I a debutante. I blended the two into what I believe to be a perfect balance of eclectic, eccentric, outdoorsy, intelligent, multi-talented femininity.Smiley

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re saying to yourself, “WTF is she talking about???????” Smiley (And here is where i tell you….)

My father was bridge foreman for the railroad (Mo-Pac) for 32 years. He would be gone for two weeks at a time, and only home every other weekend. My father was right up there with God as far I as I was concerned, and when he was home, he belonged to ME. He taught me everything he knew. Probably not because he always wanted to, but more likely it was because he couldn’t get rid of me for an instant. I think he figured as long as he taught me something new, and sent me to practice whatever it was he imparted to me, he could breathe for a minute. It never took long however, because I never wanted anything more than to see my father smile, and I learned quickly, from pouring concrete to construction. One of my earliest recollections is of the only fight I ever knew my parents to have. I remember like it was yesterday, sitting in the kitchen on a stool when i was 8 years old, and my father lacing up hiking boots on my feet. He was on one bended knee, and he had a coil of rope on the floor next to him. My mom walks in, stops dead in her tracks and says “Clovis, just what the hell do you think you are DOING!!?!?!?” My father turned to my mother with the most confused look on his face and says “what?” My mother says… “Clovis, you are NOT taking that child up on the ROOF with you!!!”, and my dad says “But Val, I have a rope! I’m gonna tie her to me while I replace the shingles, so she won’t fall off, and she can hand me the nails!” Smiley

Yeah. I thought she was gonna choke him to death with that rope. When she picked it up, I swear…. it kinda looked like a hangman’s noose there for a second. Really. It did….

Anyhow… the point of that retrospective is this. Thanks to my daddy, I also know a wee bit about cars. Not a whole lot, mind you, but enough to get by. I can rebuild a Holly 4-barrel quadrajet, drop in a 350 or a 327 4 bolt main,
replace my own brakes, and change a starter, flywheel, or alternator. So, when I have a damn car with OBD, I know how the hell to read it. OK?

For those of you who DON”T have a CLUE what an OBD stands for “On Board Diagnostic”.
OBD serves as an early warning system that alerts you to the potential need for vehicle repair through the “Check Engine” light on the dashboard of your vehicle. It flashes codes that tell you what ‘s wrong with your ride. You can read them, look them up, and diagnose your own damned car, without having to rely solely on what some “mechanic” tells you.

Now then… Chapter 4 really begins with me, and my OBD the night I got back from night of terror in Tulsa. Yep, I got home, and checked it. The only code it’s flashing is a 41. i go inside, look it up on the internet, and there it is. It’s the EGR valve, and guess what that means? I was right. It’s electronic, and will make my car run like it’s constipated when it’s f****d up. I crawl under the car at midnight with a flashlight in hand and start tracing. yep. It’s F*****D!

Soooooo….. the next AM I call my grandpa and the mechanic, and tell them what the problem is. But noooooooo…… “that’s not it” they say. GRRRRRRRRR!!!!! They will NOT listen to me. I “don’t really need it” they say.

Soooooooo…. I have spent the last 4 days waiting in this God-forsaken 7th circle of hell. (Oklahoma is no longer OK to ME!!!!!) In the interim, the “mechanic” has checked the pressure on my fuel pump, replaced the fuel filter, totally removed the catalytic converter, and a few other various waste of time things.
He tells me yesterday, “must be that EGR valve”.

Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley
YA THINK?!?!?!?!?!?!?
HOLY SHIT!
Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley Smiley

By now, my grandpa has sunk so much into that car, it’s all pretty much new under the non-existent perverbial hood. He just doesn’t wanna spend the $250 it’s gonna take to get it fixed. I’m thinking at this point that Old Man Murphy won.

But Wait~~~~~~

The trumpet sounded last night (by way of the telephone) and I was informed I would be getting the money western union from people at home who love me and want my ass BACK there. I bolt to the shop, tell the mechanic I am picking up the part in the AM, have the car ready to install it. He tells me he’ll have it done by the afternoon, and I can go home on Sunday.

Sooooooo… this AM I get up early, go to the shop, and tell him I’m headed to OKC for the part, and he says “cool”. I get back, and guess what??????? The mother fucker (excuse da language, but really… WTF??Smiley has closed the shop up tight, left early, with my car locked up INSIDE, and no one has heard from him since. Did I mention, he lives BEHIND the shop, and sure as hell wasn’t there either?

The S.O.B. RAN and HID!!!!!!! Smiley

That’s ok. I got something for the mechanic. You just hide and watch…

Don’t fuck with a southern woman who has been held hostage in hell for two weeks, and wants nothing in the world but to get home to her son.

Oh yeah….the “mechanic” and me… uh-huh…

Guess no one ever told him that hell hath no fury like a single southern mother scorned.

Murphy may be tough, Karma may be a bitch, and my Dogma may be dead, but they ain’t got SHIT on me!!!!

To be continued…

And where the hell is a disgruntled Smiley carrying a baseball bat????


Me, My Car, and Murphy’s Law

December 10, 2006

Me And Murphy’s Law Current mood: indescribable

Old Man Murphy and his freakin’ Laws. Gotta love ’em, aye? Have I mentioned that my personal sanity is almost threadbare at this point?

So, I’m in Oklahoma where I have just picked up the car my grandfather gave me. It’s a great ride for a 94 Probe. Sunroof, automatic everything, electric seats, gray leather interior, cruise control, perfect alignment, and wheels/tires on it that are worth as much as the car. Best of all…. it was a freebie!

Then, coming home from the store with my mom, she makes the comment “yeah, well it’s ok, but you haven’t hit the interstate yet”. To which I reply with a tenative laugh ,”mom, shut the hell up and don’t jinx me”. Mom says with utter sincerity, “old man Murphy doesn’t care if you say it aloud or not”.

Either way, we met Mr. Murphy about 10 minutes later, when he bashed my freakin’ car with his freakin’ law.

Yes, at 60 mph, Mr Murphy decides I don’t really need my car hood, or headlamps.

I’m just drivin’, chattin’, and laughin’ with mom when WHAM !!! We hear a clattering sound, the hood flies up, disengages, goes soaring over the top of the car (missing the windshield and back glass, thank God) and SMACKS into my trunk before sailing like a frisbee into the adjacent lane in front of oncoming traffic.

Yes, it’s just another day in my life.

I whip the car around and go after the hood. I pull up in front of it, stare it down like something that should be slaughtered, and get out of the car.
My mother… she’s speechless…bless her heart…
I walk up to the perfectly unmarked hood, stare it down for a moment longer, pick it up , and walk back to check out the car-nage. (Get it!? Carnage!? LMAO!) ((Shut up. It was funny to me.))

I can’t help myself, standing there, holding the hood, looking at the opening where my v-6 is proudly(?) displaying itself. I start smiling. Then the giggles kick in. It is only when my mom gets out of the car and hold the door open saying “honey, quick, stick it in the back seat!”, that I totally lose my composure, and erupt into eye-watering, side-splitting laughter. A few cars slowly manuveured around us, but I’m fairly certain they were afraid to stop, fearing that I must have lost my mind somewhere. I can’t stop laughing! It was just the funniest thing in the world to me. My mom is starting to look at me in a most concerned fashion, and takes a step back from me, which makes me literally double over and HOWLLLLLLLLLL with laughter.

This one truck finally stops and two guys ask if they can help… my mom is looking from them to me, like “OMG HELP HER”…… and all I can do is laugh and laugh and laugh!!!! My mom asks them to put the hood in thier truck and plz follow us home. I guess it was adrenilin cause that hood felt like a feather to me, but it kinda seemed to be given that one guy a hard time.

We did finally make it home and figured out the hood had never actually been fastened to the car. It was simply “resting” there, and had been held in place by the thick sheet of ice that had weighed it down and had also been attached to the wiper blades. No latch, no hinges, no nothing. Just a hood with some ice that decided to melt.

I love my life…..every day is an adventure….

Tomorrow begins my adventure in car hood replacement…..