I started my addiction with Supahmommy and she fed it well...I'm continuing my addiction with
That One Mom at Only Parent Chronicles. Post Its are a way of life. Feed the addiction Quackers!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Be Vewwy Vewwy Qwiet or Hunting with A Cannon
It's another Craptastic Monday at the Pond y'all! School is back in session and I've likely already seen way too many asscracks and pants on the ground than anyone should in a life time. Monday's are all about Memories and owning yours! A special treat for you Quackers today! You'll remember a post a few weeks back about a mouse and Awesomest Neighbor. Well...Awesomest Neighbor happens to be a PHENOMENAL storyteller (cause he's has some wicked funny shit happen in his life) and I was so very lucky to get one plunked out in writing. I give you....
Memoirs of an Irish HillBilly
Growing up, my father used to take me deer hunting with him. Now, I use the term “hunting” very loosely. Mostly, he was pissed off that my mom “persuaded him to take me, and we would march around aimlessly in the woods until finding a tree with enough branches to hold us. We would shimmy up this tree, with no tree stand, and wedge ourselves into some branches like a couple of apes for God and everyone else to see. Not very stealthy, which usually resulted in us going home empty handed.
This particular season was going to be special. I had finally reached an age where I could hunt on my own. So my father bequeathed to me his trusty old 30-30 rifle and set out on a quest to purchase himself a top of the line, Remington 7 mm Magnum semi automatic rifle with a 5 round clip topped with a beautiful 12x Bushnell scope. This weapon was truly a sight to behold, and I swear to this day when he brought it home the heavens opened up and a choir of angels filled the living room. I have seen photographs of my father, in which he was holding me right after my mother had crapped me out of the womb, and the look on his face holding this weapon made me quite envious. This gun had enough knock down power to drop a bull elephant, and equipped with the proper optics (which my father had purchased) could reach out and smack one at damn near a mile away. Just 2 problems with this: 1) the brush in our hunting area was so thick that most shots occur at less than 50 yards and 2) when that much power blows down the end of a barrel the resulting recoil is uncomfortable to say the least and usually resulted in ample bruising. This glorious firearm was no exception, however my father was not swayed one bit into thinking this gun was just a tad overkill.
First light found us performing our ritualistic aimless wandering (which my father eloquently called “scouting”) until my dad picked out this big, gnarly oak tree for me to perch in at the top of this giant ridge. He then informed me that he would be wandering down the hillside to find a setup point for himself, and would return to get me at around lunch time.
One hour and several muscle cramps later, I was startled by what sounded like the deck cannon of a naval destroyer, followed shortly by a loud crash, followed shortly by the spewing forth and yelling of obscenities the likes of which I cannot post on this forum. Concerned, I wrenched myself free of my ambush and made my way in the general direction of what surely must have been my father. The trail wasn’t hard to follow due to all of the grunting and groaning, and upon my arrival I set out on inspecting him to make sure that he hadn’t shot himself. Sure of myself that this wasn’t the case, I began to get a clearer picture of what had happened. My father was lying at the base of a young hickory tree, about 8 inches in diameter. There was not a single branch on this tree until about 12 feet up, and it abruptly forked. Dad had climbed up this tree like a Caribbean coconut harvester, wedged his butt in this fork, and wrapped his legs around the tree as an added measure of safety. There were two very fatal flaws with his plan that doomed it from the start. One, young hickory trees are very rubbery and much like the bands of a giant sling shot. Two, my father had in his possession a shoulder mounted Howitzer that kicked like a mule. As the deer approached, at the seemingly insurmountable distance of roughly twenty yards, dad threw the gun up and saw nothing but a blur of brown. Now in a panic, he dialed back his scope from 12x to 2x and squeezed off a round. When he did, the recoil whipped the tree backward, then snapped forward. In his anxiety he had failed to anticipate this reaction and the tree literally whipped out from beneath him, leaving him to plummet to the ground.
For all of you card carrying PETA members out there, take comfort that Bambi probably lived out the rest of his days with nothing more than a minor hearing problem in his left ear, and the vision of some balding Irishman sporting a blaze orange jumpsuit, crashing through the canopy, en route to the ground.
Memoirs of an Irish HillBilly
Growing up, my father used to take me deer hunting with him. Now, I use the term “hunting” very loosely. Mostly, he was pissed off that my mom “persuaded him to take me, and we would march around aimlessly in the woods until finding a tree with enough branches to hold us. We would shimmy up this tree, with no tree stand, and wedge ourselves into some branches like a couple of apes for God and everyone else to see. Not very stealthy, which usually resulted in us going home empty handed.
This particular season was going to be special. I had finally reached an age where I could hunt on my own. So my father bequeathed to me his trusty old 30-30 rifle and set out on a quest to purchase himself a top of the line, Remington 7 mm Magnum semi automatic rifle with a 5 round clip topped with a beautiful 12x Bushnell scope. This weapon was truly a sight to behold, and I swear to this day when he brought it home the heavens opened up and a choir of angels filled the living room. I have seen photographs of my father, in which he was holding me right after my mother had crapped me out of the womb, and the look on his face holding this weapon made me quite envious. This gun had enough knock down power to drop a bull elephant, and equipped with the proper optics (which my father had purchased) could reach out and smack one at damn near a mile away. Just 2 problems with this: 1) the brush in our hunting area was so thick that most shots occur at less than 50 yards and 2) when that much power blows down the end of a barrel the resulting recoil is uncomfortable to say the least and usually resulted in ample bruising. This glorious firearm was no exception, however my father was not swayed one bit into thinking this gun was just a tad overkill.
First light found us performing our ritualistic aimless wandering (which my father eloquently called “scouting”) until my dad picked out this big, gnarly oak tree for me to perch in at the top of this giant ridge. He then informed me that he would be wandering down the hillside to find a setup point for himself, and would return to get me at around lunch time.
One hour and several muscle cramps later, I was startled by what sounded like the deck cannon of a naval destroyer, followed shortly by a loud crash, followed shortly by the spewing forth and yelling of obscenities the likes of which I cannot post on this forum. Concerned, I wrenched myself free of my ambush and made my way in the general direction of what surely must have been my father. The trail wasn’t hard to follow due to all of the grunting and groaning, and upon my arrival I set out on inspecting him to make sure that he hadn’t shot himself. Sure of myself that this wasn’t the case, I began to get a clearer picture of what had happened. My father was lying at the base of a young hickory tree, about 8 inches in diameter. There was not a single branch on this tree until about 12 feet up, and it abruptly forked. Dad had climbed up this tree like a Caribbean coconut harvester, wedged his butt in this fork, and wrapped his legs around the tree as an added measure of safety. There were two very fatal flaws with his plan that doomed it from the start. One, young hickory trees are very rubbery and much like the bands of a giant sling shot. Two, my father had in his possession a shoulder mounted Howitzer that kicked like a mule. As the deer approached, at the seemingly insurmountable distance of roughly twenty yards, dad threw the gun up and saw nothing but a blur of brown. Now in a panic, he dialed back his scope from 12x to 2x and squeezed off a round. When he did, the recoil whipped the tree backward, then snapped forward. In his anxiety he had failed to anticipate this reaction and the tree literally whipped out from beneath him, leaving him to plummet to the ground.
For all of you card carrying PETA members out there, take comfort that Bambi probably lived out the rest of his days with nothing more than a minor hearing problem in his left ear, and the vision of some balding Irishman sporting a blaze orange jumpsuit, crashing through the canopy, en route to the ground.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Dum Dum - Yep That's Me
Sitting at a red light, Crackberry pressed to my ear and Daddy Duck’s radio voice rumbling out “…we’re tied up right now so leave a message and if we can ever figure out how to get these knots undone we’ll call you back. “ BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Normal people? They begin voicing the message they would like to leave. Speshal Ducks like me? They wait until the light turns green before they being speaking.
Yeah…..I’ll wait a minute while that sinks in……
And since I’m outing myself as extra (as in short bus, Jerry Lewis Telethon style) speshal I might as well remind you of my extreme dislike phobia of public restrooms. I just don’t like them and they don’t like me. Rarely do I have a good experience. I’ve blogged a time or ten about it. And of course I have yet another one.
I was at a departmental meeting at one of the school buildings in the district and ran down the hall (because I’m an adult and I CAN RUN IF I WANT TO) to pee. And OF COURSE I would pick the ONE stall void of toilet paper. I didn’t notice until I had already commenced stream release which was too late. So I sat and waited. Surely someone would be entering to void their bladder shortly and I could ask for a few squares, right?!
I waited
And sat
And waited
…..and sat….
Finally I grabbed my purse and started digging. NADA. NOTHING. ZIPPO. ZILTCH. No tissue or napkins.
But…..BINGO!
Found a sour apple DumDum sucker.
The sucker was a nice treat and the wrapper worked in a pinch.
This Duck is a creative one! Necessity is the mother of invention OR I ain’t walkin’ around in pee pants all day OR I’m too impatient to wait out the drip dry method.
Normal people? They begin voicing the message they would like to leave. Speshal Ducks like me? They wait until the light turns green before they being speaking.
Yeah…..I’ll wait a minute while that sinks in……
And since I’m outing myself as extra (as in short bus, Jerry Lewis Telethon style) speshal I might as well remind you of my extreme dislike phobia of public restrooms. I just don’t like them and they don’t like me. Rarely do I have a good experience. I’ve blogged a time or ten about it. And of course I have yet another one.
I was at a departmental meeting at one of the school buildings in the district and ran down the hall (because I’m an adult and I CAN RUN IF I WANT TO) to pee. And OF COURSE I would pick the ONE stall void of toilet paper. I didn’t notice until I had already commenced stream release which was too late. So I sat and waited. Surely someone would be entering to void their bladder shortly and I could ask for a few squares, right?!
I waited
And sat
And waited
…..and sat….
Finally I grabbed my purse and started digging. NADA. NOTHING. ZIPPO. ZILTCH. No tissue or napkins.
But…..BINGO!
Found a sour apple DumDum sucker.
The sucker was a nice treat and the wrapper worked in a pinch.
This Duck is a creative one! Necessity is the mother of invention OR I ain’t walkin’ around in pee pants all day OR I’m too impatient to wait out the drip dry method.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
You Know Its Coming...Are You Ready?
Yes....I am back in da hood my quackers. So for those of you who only stick around for the Convos From the Hood, pull yer damn pants up and stop droolin on yer desktops. The halls smell like wax...until next week when they are filled with teenage bodies, reeks of AXE <--GAG*VOM*BARF*....and the Bells are sounding. The hood has been overhauled during the summer months adding a few grades to our building which surely HAS to increase the stupidity level exponentially in addition to adding new staff. Again....HAS to increase the stupidity level....ahhh I kid...I kid.
Or do I?
Just yesterday while hardly working away at my desk inside my office I overhear in the hallway:
New female staffer: "I can't finish damnit....I don't mean to be mean....but I can't finish damnit! You've been just sitting there for like EVER!"
Male voice reply: ".....er.....oh......uh......sorry.....I'm coming..........shiiiiiitt........"
So, yeah Quackers, its already shaping up to be a glorious school year! I can only imagine how much fun it will be to add 7th and 8th graders into the high school mix. Next Monday the real fun begins as the hormones file through the metal detectors.
In the mean time, check out this fun gem. Evidently if ya wanna smoke AND be a stripper in this fine city in which I live you get your own speshal pole! Imagine that!
Or do I?
Just yesterday while
New female staffer: "I can't finish damnit....I don't mean to be mean....but I can't finish damnit! You've been just sitting there for like EVER!"
Male voice reply: ".....er.....oh......uh......sorry.....I'm coming..........shiiiiiitt........"
So, yeah Quackers, its already shaping up to be a glorious school year! I can only imagine how much fun it will be to add 7th and 8th graders into the high school mix. Next Monday the real fun begins as the hormones file through the metal detectors.
In the mean time, check out this fun gem. Evidently if ya wanna smoke AND be a stripper in this fine city in which I live you get your own speshal pole! Imagine that!
......coming soon....
There is rarely a dull moment when one works
in an inner city high school.
Join me for a snap shot of what happens
Monday through Friday between the bells.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Little bit o this Little Bit o that - Stick It
Well its not a tumor and I didn't head for the border so here I am feeding my addiction. Stick it, y'all Duckalicious style compliments of SupahMommy.
(Gina is the name of my Garmin...yes I name inanimate objects. Makes me feel more sane when I yell)
......sigh.......
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Just Don't Read the Fine Print
Today is the BIG DAY. Weeks of hospital visits, middle of the night calls to mommy to come take me to the ER, CT scans, multiple MRI's, MRA's, blood work....the works. It was all rushed and I'm getting the results (which hopefully is nothing...or I'm headed for the border...Dual Mom you are hereby notified for Stand-by) this afternoon.
As I opened my treasure trove of pharmaceuticals this morning I glanced again at my print out for the newest addition. Thought we might explore it together. Shall we?
Common Side Effects
-Numbess and tingling, most often in the arms or legs - Well shit...seriously? If I'm gonna tingle isn't medicine advanced enough to at least make it tingle somewhere good? Like....uh...ya know...the lady bits or something? They have 'smart drugs' that go in and attack only a specific cell and smart bombs that zoom in a kaboom only specific dumbass. You'd think they could alter the tingling just a wee bit north or south....
-Loss of appetite - SCORE! does this also not equal loss of weight? If I am no hungry I no eat? Correcto? Skinny jeans COME TO MOMMA! (hold off on the clicking the unfollow button. I don't think skinny jeans look good on skinny models. I would never wear them...period).
-Taste Change- Hmmm....does this mean instead of Duck I'll taste like chicken? Any volunteers to test that theory?
-Nausea- Uhhh...yeah...No Thanks. I don't do vom. Just don't. I failed bulemia for that very reason. I avoid it at all costs. So I'm NOT looking forward to this possibility.
-Weight Loss- I think we've already established this is a TOTAL EFFN BONUS! WHOOT TO THA WHOOT WHOOT!
-Diarrhea- hmmm...yeah...well....not too whoopied about this one but since I have a lap top with a decently long battery cord I'll just take the laptop to the bathroom with me. I can leave the door open and still see most all the areas of the house Little Duck plays in so it's probably all good...and still lends a helping hand with that weight loss thing. As long as it doesn't become chronic and I shit myself while in Walmart and end up on People Of Walmart or something, its all good.
-Difficulty with concentration and/or memory- Well I'm just fucked. Might as well head for the border. I probably have a bag packed somewhere and I know I have a garmin so I'll at least arrive at the border eventually. I already have issue with this....its gonna get WORSE? The doc actually laughed when telling me about this side effect. He says, "Sometimes people take this drug and it makes 'em get real...well...stupid...but then they just stop taking it and it makes 'em less stupid again." Oh boy...I had ALL kinds of stuff to say about that. Unfortunately the appointment time was up cause you know they have to get so many patients in and out in a day's time.
And of course there is also a big list of SERIOUS side effects but why bore you with those? Hell, even I haven't bothered to look it over. I figure if I start shitting myself, vomiting in my shoes, losing weight, forgetting to eat or put on my pants, my who-ha starts tingling at random and I find myself gnawing on my right ankle I'll pick up the list again. IF I can find it.
Wish me luck!
As I opened my treasure trove of pharmaceuticals this morning I glanced again at my print out for the newest addition. Thought we might explore it together. Shall we?
Common Side Effects
-Numbess and tingling, most often in the arms or legs - Well shit...seriously? If I'm gonna tingle isn't medicine advanced enough to at least make it tingle somewhere good? Like....uh...ya know...the lady bits or something? They have 'smart drugs' that go in and attack only a specific cell and smart bombs that zoom in a kaboom only specific dumbass. You'd think they could alter the tingling just a wee bit north or south....
-Loss of appetite - SCORE! does this also not equal loss of weight? If I am no hungry I no eat? Correcto? Skinny jeans COME TO MOMMA! (hold off on the clicking the unfollow button. I don't think skinny jeans look good on skinny models. I would never wear them...period).
-Taste Change- Hmmm....does this mean instead of Duck I'll taste like chicken? Any volunteers to test that theory?
-Nausea- Uhhh...yeah...No Thanks. I don't do vom. Just don't. I failed bulemia for that very reason. I avoid it at all costs. So I'm NOT looking forward to this possibility.
-Weight Loss- I think we've already established this is a TOTAL EFFN BONUS! WHOOT TO THA WHOOT WHOOT!
-Diarrhea- hmmm...yeah...well....not too whoopied about this one but since I have a lap top with a decently long battery cord I'll just take the laptop to the bathroom with me. I can leave the door open and still see most all the areas of the house Little Duck plays in so it's probably all good...and still lends a helping hand with that weight loss thing. As long as it doesn't become chronic and I shit myself while in Walmart and end up on People Of Walmart or something, its all good.
-Difficulty with concentration and/or memory- Well I'm just fucked. Might as well head for the border. I probably have a bag packed somewhere and I know I have a garmin so I'll at least arrive at the border eventually. I already have issue with this....its gonna get WORSE? The doc actually laughed when telling me about this side effect. He says, "Sometimes people take this drug and it makes 'em get real...well...stupid...but then they just stop taking it and it makes 'em less stupid again." Oh boy...I had ALL kinds of stuff to say about that. Unfortunately the appointment time was up cause you know they have to get so many patients in and out in a day's time.
And of course there is also a big list of SERIOUS side effects but why bore you with those? Hell, even I haven't bothered to look it over. I figure if I start shitting myself, vomiting in my shoes, losing weight, forgetting to eat or put on my pants, my who-ha starts tingling at random and I find myself gnawing on my right ankle I'll pick up the list again. IF I can find it.
Wish me luck!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Feed the Addiction
It's Tuesdays and time for a quick peek at my stickies. Or pasties if you're asking my mother. For some reason she refers to Post It Notes as pasties every now and again. Works for me! I am addicted to them in real life so it stands to reason that I would jump on the chance to post these bishes all over imaginary land. Thanks to Supahmommy....I can do so!
Monday, August 16, 2010
The Anywhoodle Edition - Its Monday
Its a new week, a new Monday and I have good intentions this week. Don't hold your breath though. While I'm not currently hooked to any IV's and am in the comfort of my own home (with a pocket full of good legal drugs), I am scheduled for some test and then follow up appointments for the tests...pending good results....I'll be back (in my best Arnold impression). If it sucks ass....I'm headin for the border. I'll be sure to send pics to my BB gals and they can tweet my antics. (right girls?!?)
Monday Minute is co-hosted by the Anywhoodle NOLA Queen, Kimber! She wrote all five questions. {Word}
1. If you could have plastic surgery, would you? If so, what would you get done?
Hell yes I would! I'd get BOOBIES!! Yep yep!
2. What laws have you broken?
None that you can prove
3. What is your quirkiest habit?
I'm not really sure...probably have to ask those around me. Maybe that I have a weird way of popping my gum...don't even realize I do it. Not very quirky, is it?! Sorry.
4. If you only had 3 songs to listen to for the rest of your life what would they be?
Amazing Grace by Chris Tomlin, The Dance by Garth Brooks (because it was one of the songs played at my sister's funeral) and the third I will not admit to outloud *sticks out tongue*
and finally...
5. How often do you have sex?
Really?! I mean, REALLY?! Is it ever possible to have sex often enough?
****Special thanks to Ian at the Daily Dose of Reality for providing me with post material. *snort* I'll get back in the groove....shake my tail feathers....put the ass in sass. Well hell, who am I kidding? If I'm breathing, I'm putting the ass in sass.
Monday Minute is co-hosted by the Anywhoodle NOLA Queen, Kimber! She wrote all five questions. {Word}
1. If you could have plastic surgery, would you? If so, what would you get done?
Hell yes I would! I'd get BOOBIES!! Yep yep!
2. What laws have you broken?
None that you can prove
3. What is your quirkiest habit?
I'm not really sure...probably have to ask those around me. Maybe that I have a weird way of popping my gum...don't even realize I do it. Not very quirky, is it?! Sorry.
4. If you only had 3 songs to listen to for the rest of your life what would they be?
Amazing Grace by Chris Tomlin, The Dance by Garth Brooks (because it was one of the songs played at my sister's funeral) and the third I will not admit to outloud *sticks out tongue*
and finally...
5. How often do you have sex?
Really?! I mean, REALLY?! Is it ever possible to have sex often enough?
****Special thanks to Ian at the Daily Dose of Reality for providing me with post material. *snort* I'll get back in the groove....shake my tail feathers....put the ass in sass. Well hell, who am I kidding? If I'm breathing, I'm putting the ass in sass.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
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