Random, Weird

Attack Bird

img_1654It’s been a while since I had one of those totally weird things happen to me but this one is just – wow. On the way to the high school where my son does sports camp, there is a stretch of road with about 6 mini farms of about 3-5 acres each. There are signs along the street that say peacock crossing. I’ve always seen the signs but rarely ever seen a peacock in the area. Apparently, I was not coming during the right time of day because for the last two days right around dusk these peacocks have been large and in charge. And, they must know about the signs because they will straight up walk out in the middle of the road in front of a moving vehicle. They have no shame.

Monday night a whole flock started across the road when I was about 50 yards from them. I had time to stop and slow down to allow them to pass but I swear the last one in the group gave me the side eye. I swear I was waiting for it to come bang on the hood like Dustin Hoffman in Midnight Cowboy and scream, “I’m walking here.”  I sent a text to a girlfriend or two asking if I should let my inner southern redneck shine and just run over it and bring it home for dinner. We even pondered if the meat would be white or dark and if it would taste gamey. I resisted the urge to mow it down. Last night, I came through at a similar time and I’ll be damned if those peacocks didn’t wait until the car in front of mine was right on them to start strutting out into the road. They were just hanging around, loitering, bold as brass waiting on cars to pass. And, they did not get in a hurry to cross.  Those damn birds sashayed across that street like they had all the time in the world and nowhere to be.  I wonder what they would have done if I had yelled, “Knees to chins y’all! We ain’t got all day.”

Personally,  I don’t know how I feel about these birds. On the one hand I just want to rev my engine and ram one but on the other hand, I don’t want to kill someone’s treasured pet or screw up the front end of my car. What a conundrum. But, I’d be willing to bet they taste just like chicken.

P.S. If anyone has any information on peacocks – how they taste, how they behave, anything I’m wildly curious and don’t feel like looking it up on “The Google”.

Photo credit:  My kid took the photo while hanging out the window with us driving slow. Damn thing was probably going to charge the car had I slowed down any more to get a clearer picture.



Rants, Weird

DMV Hell

IMG_1031.jpgI feel sorry for people who work at the DMV.  I don’t know a soul who likes going to that place.  The take a number and wait, cramped molded plastic chairs, no ventilation, fill out this form in triplicate, hellhole is just every adult’s worse nightmare. If you’re reading this and you work for the DMV, you have my condolences.  Just know that you are liked only slightly more than people who work for the IRS.  Hey, there’s always a silver lining.  Now, on with today’s story.  I currently live in Texas.  I have done so off and on since 2002.  Texas has a rule that your drivers’ license is good for 6 years and can be renewed by mail another 6 years if you don’t have any changes. Because we moved to another section of state last year, I had to get a new license.  Heaven help me.

So, I got all my necessary paperwork together, did my hair and makeup to where I thought I looked halfway cute (more on that later) and mentally prepared myself for the ordeal.  I get to the office and was asked if I had a reservation. Ummm, no.  Apparently, there is now an online check-in. If you do it the old-fashioned way like I did (just showing up) you have to wait in the hall for a chair to vacate.  Apparently, you can’t stand around in there anymore.  I didn’t see anything in my letter about an online check-in.  It was hell just trying to figure out where my local DMV was located.  So I wait in the hall like a scolded child for about 15 minutes watching others with reservations walk inside.  When I was allowed in, I was given a number so I could wait some more.  An hour later, I’m sitting in front of this poor guy who looked like he would rather be having a root canal and a prostate exam at the same time. Bless him, IMG_1033.jpghe was nice enough.  When it came time to take my picture it was just awful.  He graciously took it twice and both times it was just abysmal. I don’t think it would have bothered me so bad to get such a bad picture had my old one not been so good. I really got lucky that day.  I texted the hubs to complain about my new picture (see photo to the left).  I have these big crazy eyes, fake smile and for the life of me, I swear my face is starting to melt off my bones. I’m getting jowly. What the hell? I’m too young for this.

As if that’s not enough, the State of Texas gives you a temporary paper license.  Yes, you read that right, a paper license. I got my first temporary paper license way back in 2002.  I had just moved here from South Carolina. I did all the things, got my picture taken, and instead of getting a brand new, shiny, plastic license at the end of the exercise, I was given a piece of paper with my info on it that looked like something I could make at home with my own computer and printer.  There was no raised state seal or colored ink. There was no fanciness to it at all. Seriously, it was like a Cracker Jack prize.  When I asked (complained) to the lady behind the counter she looked at me like I had lost my mind.  I told her, “Lady, I just moved here from South Carolina.  A state that ranks lowest in education among other things and they issued me a valid drivers license on the spot.  Texas is arguably the best state in the country and y’all give me this homemade looking thing?  I think the State of Texas is spending too much on (then governor) Rick Perry’s designer boot collection and not enough on the DMV.”  As I was delivering my rant, I noticed the Highway patrolman inching my way.  I just knew I was going to be arrested or deported from the state for questioning the almighty Rick Perry’s spending habits.  Thankfully, I was able to leave without incident.  So, today, when the dude handed me my new homemade license I just shook my head. I couldn’t believe in 16 years, Texas has progressed to facial recognition software and a thumb scanner but still gives out homemade licenses.  Let’s hope in 12 more years or whenever we move again, I get a better picture and no temporary paper copy.


Random, Weird

Instant Boobs

IMG_0969.jpgI finally did it.  I took the plunge into the world of Youtube. A lurker no longer, I am now poster.  Lawd have mercy what have I done.  HA!  For those of you not in the friend loop, here’s the backstory.

My family and I were on an outing this weekend and found a Daiso store.  Located in California, Washington, and Texas, Daiso is essential a Japanese dollar store.  Everything at Diaso is priced between $1.50 to $3.00.  I have never seen anything more than $10.00.  You can literally find anything here – candy, underwear, a teapot, cute pens, you get the picture.  So, my 11 year old daughter and I are looking at the toys and party stuff and come across this – Instant Boobs.  Let me tell you it got awkward real quick.  We quickly left that aisle to find my other kid and husband but I could not stop thinking about these instant boobs. I was so intrigued I went back and bought my very own pair. And, since unboxings are all the rage on Youtube, I made my very own unboxing video.  In fact, this was my very first foray into producing Youtube content. So please, pay no attention to my lack of skills. I am, after all, over 40 have no business using technology.

In case you haven’t seen it and are interested, I’m linking the video here.

So now that you’ve seen the video you know what an epic fail these boogers were. Leave it to a kid to figure out how things work.  My daughter, who was equally as intrigued as I was, decided to figure out what was inside of these things and what it is made of. If you watched the video you’ll note I said it feels like there’s some packet inside, like the silica gel ones you find in shoes.  Guess what? I was half right.

22E96047-1CA1-4319-B955-6B4B6A15473AAs shown in the picture to the left, there is some weird packet inside. Upon further inspection of the item and reading the box, this packet is full of citric acid, baking soda, and water. Now why in the world there’s a packet of citric acid, baking soda and water inside is beyond me.  Someone with some knowledge of chemistry/science please chime in and enlighten us.  The outer portion is nothing but a balloon and they do indeed have a sticker on the base so you can put them on your body. But, as far as I can tell, much like real boobs, no about of squeezing will make these suckers bigger.

You know, I’m not sure what I expected for $1.50 but I can tell I have gotten more mileage out of this item than I ever expected.  I’m still laughing at the pictures on this package. I don’t know what’s funnier. The fact that the person on the package is a dude or that he’s wearing a tie around his head instead of around his neck or that he’s just so damn excited to have a pair of boobs of his own that he can squeeze to his heart’s delight.  It’s all just so hysterically funny.  What’s next? An inflatable penis so that women can write our names on a snow bank?  I’d pay $1.50 for that.


Go Away Crazy

crazy trainJust the other day I was thinking about how I haven’t witnessed anything truly crazy in a while.  I don’t mean something simple like bad driver crazy or seeing something crazy on the internet.  Let’s be real, not a day goes by that you don’t see that stuff.  No, I mean truly crazy things, like that time the lady behind me in the post office line had that creepy Louie Armstrong doll right up in my personal space. (Whispers – Click here for that crazy AF reminder.) Friends, the Universe must have thought the same thing because the crazy train has pulled into the station.  They say trouble/death/bad luck comes in threes and I have three instances of ridiculous right here for your enjoyment.

It all started Easter Sunday. No matter where we have lived for the last 12 years we have had craptastic weather on Easter. I have indoor egg hunts wired. So, that was just normal crazy right? Sure, no worries. Bedtime rolls around and I’m about to take my dog out when I open the back door and the smell of skunk hits me in the face.  I mean like it’s so strong I immediately shut the door and start flipping on outdoor lights looking for the offending animal. I thought it had to still be out there.  Alas, nothing but stink.  I take the dog out front where the smell is still there but not gag-inducing strong. It’s about 11:30 a little late for a ‘school night’ but whatever. Then a scant four hours later at 3:30 a.m. boom, boom, boom, boom on my front door.  It sounds like someone is going to beat it down.  It’s the police.  They are looking for the guy that used to own our home.  No, we didn’t just buy a new house;  we’ve owned this home for almost a year.  Apparently paying taxes on one’s house is not enough for the authorities to know you now live here and not public enemy number one.  I’ve decided the next time we buy a home we not only need to get the standard home inspection but also check to see if the seller has a criminal past. Who would have thought to do that?

Finally, my last piece of crazy isn’t really crazy.  It’s more like whoa.  I’m not going to lie this makes me a little scared because that means crazy is lurking around the corner waiting to get me.  Last night, at the dinner table, my 11 year old daughter announced one of her friends is gay.  It’s not a big deal except my daughter is 11 and we just had “the talk”.  Since we just had ‘the talk’, I wasn’t 100% sure she knew what it meant to be gay but she assured me she knew because we had ‘the talk’. (Good to know some things stick.)  I asked her how she came to know this information about her friend.  Apparently, the child just told her out of the blue while they were chit-chatting about what they got for Easter. “Hey, I got a four foot tall chocolate bunny in my basket and I’m gay. What did you get?”  Okay, that is not what was said but you get the idea. That whole conversation fell into the category of I knew one day we’d be discussing this but I didn’t think it would be at 11 years old and would involve the Easter bunny and dinnertime. Is it just me or do all kids love to bring up topics that require lots of thought like sex and Santa when you are totally unprepared to discuss them? I barely knew what to say except, “what did little Johnny get for Easter?” and “I’m glad he has it all figured out but please don’t discuss this with others as this is his story to tell.”  Now, I am praying I handled this correctly.

So, now we wait. Will there be a third instance of crazy or is the universe going to give me a pass and call this last parenting hiccup my third item?  I guess only time will tell. All I know is I think I’m going to smudge my house with sage and put some salt on my doorways.  Who knows, maybe it will at least keep the skunk from coming back. Knowing my luck he’ll show up with all of his friends.

Photo credit: Lifted the train off the internet by Googling the words crazy train. No copyright infringement intended.  Poor person. No money. Don’t sue me. Just complain and I’ll take it down.



This is just nuts

Y’all, seriously, this has been the week for weird. I mean it. Every. Damn. Day. Just. Something. Strannnnge. So I’m minding my own business, looking at Facebook in bed while the hubs watches some stupid show about digging up pirate loot on some remote island up near Nova Scotia (I think) and I see this come across my feed.  That my friends is a screen shot of a candle.  Apparently, it’s banana nut bread scented hence the same “SmellIMG_0289.png My Nuts”.  I just couldn’t believe it.  I don’t know what algorithm Facebook or Amazon is using but for some reason I get this post showing me best sellers I might be interested. I can assure you I am NOT interested.  I don’t use candles and I haven’t bought anything with nuts in it other than peanut butter in well forever.  Who would buy this??!!!  And that title? Smell my Nuts??!! Eww.  I nearly logged on just so I could ask the seller if these nuts were the clean, sweaty or hairy variety and if I could pick which variety I wanted?  I figured that was a little over the top or it had already been done so I talked myself down.  But, wait it gets better, so upon further investigation it seems they also have a candle called “Nice Melons”. I have to admit the innuendo/double entendre makes me laugh.  It sounds like something I would name my candles if I had a candle company. It’s very in your face and sarcastic.  I like it.  It’s just too bad that I hate the scent of both melon and nuts or I might have to purchase one of these things just for fun.




Y’all, this is terrifying

I was having a rough day.  Between the recent mass shooting in South Texas and two different posts on Facebook made by two different friends, I was super down in the dumps.  But, like everyone else, you just have to keep on going.  So there I was wallowing in my sadness, running errands, standing in a 10 person deep line at the post office, when I feel someone encroach on my personal space.  I didn’t turn around.  I was about number 7 in a line of  about 10 people and I hate confrontation.  I didn’t want to create a disturbance when I still had this long to wait but then I notice the worker guy behind the postal counter staring.  I mean like glaring a hole into my face staring. Well, I knew he wasn’t staring at me, so I casually look over my left shoulder and I see this.


The great Louis Armstrong, Satchmo, staring me back in the face.  I think I may jumped or squealed – I can’t be sure.  I manage to get ahold of myself and slowly turn back around.  My inner monolog is working overtime.  Who the hell buys a giant singing Louis Armstrong Doll?  I think to myself (no, not a wonderful world) maybe this line will miraculously vanish and I will get away from this doll but I can feel the heat of the body or of the doll behind me.  Of course, curiosity got the best of me.  So, I slowly pivot to try to glimpse the encroacher. And there holding Louis is none other than the old witch lady from the movie, Brave.  I shit you not.  The lady looks to be about 95.  She’s got this craggy ass hair, she is shorter than me which is amazing since I’m five foot nothing and she weighs about 90 pounds.  She’s holding this crazy doll that’s as big as she is on her left hip and she’s dragging a roll around suitcase with her right hand.  Oh yeah, and she is standing so close to me she can probably tell you when I last took a shower.


So again, I slowly turn back around but this time I make eye contact with the worker guy behind the counter.  Both of our eyes are about to bug out of our collective heads and we cannot keep a straight face.  All this time here I am looking for that hidden camera cause this shit is too weird to be real.  Then I remember, hey my new blog, so I start digging in my purse for my phone so I can take a picture.  Wouldn’t you know by the time I got my phone discreetly positioned to where I could snap a picture on the sly, the old lady turned the box around to where you couldn’t see the creepy face.  Oh well, at least I got this grainy picture of the box.  Of course, when I got home I googled the hell out of it and came across the first picture.  Yep, just as creepy as when I saw it live and in person.

Y’all this is the stuff of nightmares.  I swear I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep tonight. What did I tell y’all – I notice weird everywhere.  It follows me.