Friday, May 25, 2012

The Ballad of Betty Jean aka Mother Mary

Betty Jean shall for the purpose of this blog and due to my lazy writing habits be called BJ. Trust me, she would never know those initials have a different meaning to the rest of the world. I am convinced she lives in some parallel universe most of the time.

BJ was my uber religious, scared of the world in general mother-in-law, well she isn't dead or anything I'm just not with her son anymore, although she has told me recently she likes me better than him. I am allowed in her house, he isn't. I guess she has forgiven me and my But She's Pretty Child from stuffing all those bottles of wine and boxes condoms in the bottom of her grocery cart where she couldn't see them until she started putting them up on the belt at the cashier. Poor woman had several of them unloaded before she even realized what they were. But She's Pretty child then yells out, very loudly, "Grandma, not again! We thought you had this drinking and carousing thing under control!" I would like to tell you we have outgrown this type of torture but sadly it was only two weeks ago during her eye exam when I calmly ask the eye doctor if it could be all that sperm she gets in her eyes that could be causing the irritation. Her response to everything we do or say is always to repeat "Oh mercy me, mercy, mercy me!"  Why she even goes anywhere in public with me, But She's Pretty Child or the Demon Seed is beyond me. But she does and each and every time she begs us not to do something embarrassing to her and of course we tell her we won't. Unfortunately she believes us every time.

Now before you think BJ is a little crazy let me assure you she isn't. She is a highly educated and very respected woman who was the Chief of Surgery at a well known hospital for over 30 years. But she does have some, how to put this nicely.... idiosyncrasies. She is the only person I know who checks her mail and takes the trash out James Bond style. She just knows there is someone out there who will attack her so it is a ritual. She gets the black trench coat style rain coat from the front closet and puts it on, there is a can of pepper spray in one pocket and her doubled up fist with her car keys in the other. She has a key sticking out between each finger, ready to fight if the need arises. She then opens the door, looks both ways and then slowly steps out, locking the door behind her (this is to keep anyone who may be just waiting for a chance to get in her house from having the opportunity to slip in while she is at the mailbox), once the door is locked she turns and fast trots all the way to the mailbox which is clearly within eye shot of the front door. She gets the mail and repeats the whole process in reverse. It is hilarious to watch. Demon Seed has been known to tell her she missed the mailman, he saw him come late just to watch her "Do The James Bond" again. But She's Pretty Child stopped slipping out the back door and pretending to be the "attacker" after getting pepper sprayed. She thinks the world in general is evil and out to get the innocent. This is why Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate are only allowed to visit sparingly. I fear they would only reinforce her fears considering "Let's Get Grandma" is such a fun game.

Now you need a little background on her to fully appreciate her fall from grace. Up until the "incident" the woman's lips had never touched a single drop of booze or a cigarette. Red lipstick was only for harlots and her only daughter-in-law, that would be me. She, nor anyone in her family ever said a cuss word in their life so you can imagine how proud they all are of me at family reunions, and later of my children, except for Fantasy Barbie who is a whole lot like her grandmother. My other children refused to be pulled toward the light. In the 30 years I have known her I have never seen her in her pajamas and we have shared many a motel rooms while on the road visiting relatives or while spending the night with her when we lived out of state with the military. She alwyas wears a robe if not in her street clothes. She had been married to Mr. BJ for 40 years and they had their own private bathroom in their bedroom. They sleep with the door shut. That robe only came off after the lights went out, if she got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom she put the robe on first. I still have not managed to figure out how they had two children unless it was an immaculate conception. They were in church everytime the doors were open and even though she denies it I suspect that there was many times she sat in the parking lot praying (probably for me) when the church was locked. She prayed all throughout the day, about anything and everyone. They watched nothing that did not have a PG rating on television. She wore only dresses or polyester pant suits and shoes with the maximum of a two inch heel, anything higher was reserved for harlots and her only daughter-in-law. There was a bible in every room of the house, even the bathrooms. Now how long do you think it took Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate to figure out she hid money in those bibles? Your right, not long and they cleaned her out on a regular basis. Her children were never allowed to have company or spend the night with friends because she didn't know "if their families attended church regularly".  The two boys were only allowed to participate in church activities or boy scouts. I hate it for her but all she did was create kids that had no sense of what the real world was like and as a result neither one of them turned out all that great, they are both highly educated with damn good jobs but as people they suck. Then her husband died and that is when the Ballad of Betty Jean actually began.

Two days after his death, one day before the funeral she comes to me with an old box tied up with a ribbon and asks me to open it. I did. It was filled with old love letters written to her when she was 16 yrs old by a man that was 24yrs old and in the military. He was, she told me, the brother of a friend of hers in high school. They dated about two times, her family found out and went nuts. Her father ran him off with a shot gun, her mother faked a heart attack to bring on the guilt and that was the end of their dating. But he continued to write her these letters, he would send them to his sister who would then deliver them to BJ at school. She had kept them all those years, took them everywhere she had moved and after marrying Mr. BJ had hidden them in the very back of a small storage shed. She wants me to read the letters, I'm still in shock at the whole story and am not really wanting to but she insisted and I had to keep it quiet from my husband. She wasn't ready to tell them about him yet. That night, I take the box into the nursery and sit between the two cribs and cried while reading those letters. No, it wasn't a Nicholas Spark's Notebook moment, they were tears of laughter, these were the hokiest love letters I had ever read, they sounded like they had been written by an 8yr old. The next day was the funeral so we didn't get a chance to bring up those letters, I escaped early so I would not have to deal with them or her.

A week later my dorrbell rang and I opened the door to a stranger with blonde hair wearing...*gasp*...a pair of shorts and a tank top. A closer look and I realized it was BJ. I was fighting back the laughter when she drops the bomb on me. It was time to talk to her sons because the night before she had contacted her old lover and he was coming to see her. She wants my advise on how and when to tell the boys. I suggested that maybe we should get the thank you cards sent, her husband's headstone picked out and his death certificate picked up first. She ask how long would that take, I had no idea but told her 3 weeks.

She used those 3 weeks wisely. She had her hair dyed a lighter shade of blonde, got her eyebrows waxed, her nails done, had her teeth whitened, bought new clothes and got contact lens. I on the other hand sent out thank you cards, ordered a headstone and picked up the death certificate.

Then he came. This wonderful, most handsome man in the entire world whose praises she had been singing to me daily. He looked just like a combination of Popeye and Howdy Doody and she is hanging all over him like  I was going to try to steal him away from her. The first thing out of his mouth is "Can I use your bathroom I have to piss like a Russian racehorse", she giggled like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard when it was only a month before that one of my 2 yr old's got in trouble by her for saying he had to go "pee-pee". The meeting with my husband was very cold. They ask us to go to dinner with them that night. I agreed for both of us because I don't turn down a free meal for any reason.

We meet up at the restaurant, Popeye had made reservations for us in an attempt, I feel, to impress. BJ is still hanging all over him to the point that he is even having trouble walking. First thing he does is order a bottle of wine, which she happily indulged in while my husband and I sat there stunned. I am sure both of our mouths hanging open was not in the least appetizing to those around us trying to eat. As we ate our dinner he entertained us with very raunchy jokes and spicy war stories about the whores in Amsterdam. The whole time she is laughing hysterically at anything he says and still hanging onto one of his arms. I too was laughing hysterically, at her. My poor husband didn't find one thing amusing about the whole thing. I think he was still shell shocked. The other son refuses to talk about his first encounter with Popeye, so I am sure it was equally as good as ours. Since he lived in North Carolina(where she was originally from and where they met, her family is still there) and was there for only four days we were at least not subjected to this daily.

Two months later, three months after her "beloved" husband's death she picks up and moves to North Carolina after a quicky wedding at the courthouse with this man she has seen for exactly four days in the last 40 years.

Then came the big family reunion on her side of the family. Here I must remind you they are all just like the old  BJ, very rigid in their religious beliefs. I hate reunions of any type but could hardly wait to get to this one to watch all the preachy people's reaction to this salty old sailor who was the exact opposite of the man she had been married to for so many years and so different from anyone they had ever let come close to them. Then she drops the second bomb on me. She has told them all she has remarried but she conveniently left out the part about who she had remarried. I spent that whole 8 hour drive practically rubbing my hands together in glee at the anticipation of what was surely going to come. My partner in crime, But She's Pretty Child and I sat in the backseat making up all kinds of scenarios of what was going to happen, who was going to have the first heart attack and drop over dead, etc.

We arrive at our motel and went our separate ways to our rooms to get ready for this reunion that was formal and being held in a very upscale restaurant.  We meet them in the parking lot, at first not seeing them and then it hit us they were the ones standing waving wildly to get our attention looking for all the world like Annie Oakley and John Wayne. Both all decked out in jeans, cowboy boots and red bandannas tied around their necks, pushed to the side for that extra flair. Can you even begin to imagine my joy at that moment? Just thinking back on that moment and what I knew was to come makes me all warm and fuzzy again.

We get to the venue, the valet parks our cars and I was not disappointed. One by one you could see the shock, anger and shame wash across their faces at not only who she had married but in their choice of attire for this fancy dinner reunion. I'm telling you it was pure bliss for me and But She's Pretty Child! Then he seals the deal by saying, very loudly, cigarette in one side of his mouth, "Well let's get on in there and chow down. I think my stomach is eating my rib cage and that's a goddamn shame to let that happen in a fine place like this!" But She's Pretty Child and I almost knocked each other down trying to hide behind the same tree so we could double over with laughter and not be seen. Dinner was good but even excellent food can be distracted from when all you see around you are red faces and temper tantrums being held in. Then he decides it is appropriate to entertain them with the same jokes and stories he had given us on our first dinner with them and the whole time, again, BJ has not once let go of his arm, it wasn't pretty watching her try to butter a roll with only one arm free while she had the other one entwined through Popeye's. She also again finds him extremely funny and laughs loudly at each joke and story he tells, he beams at her after each one. I'm sure at that point many were fighting the urge to vomit, I know I was. But I didn't let it loose because I was afraid with all the held in laughter at their reactions and the vomit I would choke to death and I didn't want to miss anything. This reunion started at  7:00 pm and was suppose to last until 11:00 pm. Annie Oakley and John Wayne had that room cleared completely out by 8:30 pm! Best reunion I have ever been too. Her family had nothing to do with her after that, a few cut her out of their wills, it was just one giant bruhaha.

Unfortunately Popeye died three years later and now Mother Mary has moved back here and taken up her old role of savior again. In the meantime Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate have grown into teenagers and as a result their forms of torture and embarrassment  tactics are better honed. But She's Pretty Child and I have a whole new repertoire of things to use now having the whole embarrassing marriage as fodder for new material. The holiday's are going to be great this year!

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Award from Dirty Cowgirl and Karma

My blogging sister Dirty Cowgirl quite possibly in an attempt to drive me mad or to cause me public humiliation by answering questions has given me an award. I think any award that has wrong spelling (that written as I actually spelled the word spelling wrong!) should be passed back and forth numerous times so it won't come as a big surprise when I give her the same one back and also gives me an idea of an award to make and pass out myself. Although mine will come with no rules and regulations because I really have a problem following them myself. But I do want her to know that I appreciate the fact that I made the list and from her list found a couple other new blogs I enjoyed reading. I mean seriously how often do you run across a blog written by an ape, a funny ape at that.

So here is my award, I will answer the questions but Cowgirl you must remember these things can come back to haunt you! For your viewing pleasure you can also find this on my awards page.

So now I have to answer some questions:

What is your favorite song?
See?  Right here, first question,  is where I am going to get kicked of the blogging block. This one answer will forever brand me, I can feel it in my bones. This changes constantly but only within one artists song list so today my favorite is "Better Than I Know Myself" by Adam Lambert. Yes, friends I fell for the glammer and glitz that is Adam Lambert. Anyone that can go from singing in a head voice to a chest voice and the listener doesn't even notice has talent unmatched. Do you know how few true countertenor's there really are? Besides his voice calms me and anyone who can do that without bringing me a bottle of Klonopin and a bottle of Norco has to be OK. Yes, people I bought into the glam and glitter that is Adam Lambert. But he isn't perfect, the day he packages each CD with a Klonopin and a Norco inserted is the day he becomes perfect. It will also be the first time in my life that I would wish to be a gay man, that boy is easy on the eyes.

What is your favourite dessert?
Cherry Delight. Who could resist those layers of graham crackers, cream cheese filling, cherry pie filling and whipped cream all topped with chopped pecans. Not me.

What ticks you off?
This one has the potential to be the longest list in blog history so I will only list a few.
1. People who read my blog and take every single word seriously as if it were spoken straight from the Blog God's mouth to my ear and then feel the need to email me to complain about it. They haven't learned yet that their email is only going to get them a response more sarcastic than the original post they are complaining about.
2. Public Schools. I might possibly be the only living person ever asked to resign from my position as president of the PTA for calling the school board "a bunch of idiots with the combined IQ of a chicken". In my defense, I meant every word I said and it was the truth. I can't stand the lazy teachers and the greediness for money that has become our school system. I can't stand the fact that sports has become so important that they will do away with art and music classes to have more money for the sports program.
3. Walmart-enough said.
4. My ex louse who makes bookoos of money yet will text my son ( who he lives 2 hours from and has seen a total of 1 time in the last 12 months)  from his boat while on his 4th trip to the Bahamas this year to tell him he can't "afford" to put $20 in his account and then an hour later post pictures on his FB page of the "gifts" he has bought for his girlfriend aka Fiona Shrek and the diamond necklace he bought her that was at least $2,000. Was it so wrong that to get back at him this week I reported my son's phone stolen so they would charge his Dad the $200 insurance deductible for that phone on the cell bill and then ordered $75 dollars worth of music and apps to also be applied to the bill? He has to pay and keep our cell phones on, it's court ordered. He should have just given the kid the $20, it would have been cheaper in the long run. I'll end this one here, it also has the potential to be a very long list.

When you're upset what do you do?
See question 4, it's a pretty good example

Who is/was your favorite pet?
Hmmmm...I have more than one. My Great Dane, Grady, who lived in the house and took up most of the California King bed at night (he was bitten by a rattle snake and even the heroic efforts of my vet and anti venom couldn't save him).  My English Bulldog, Sarge. Sarge was one of the grandson's of Georgia Tech's Ugga and I had him for years. Sarge had a heart attack and while on the way to the Vet he had a stroke, he was in a coma with no chance of ever being "Sarge" again and I made the decision to let him go. It broke my heart and to this day I have not ever owned another English Bulldog. Now my favorite two are the two that live with me Tucker, a 4 lb chihuahua that is the most loving, sweet and quite chihuahua you could ever meet...until someone comes to the house. He then turns into a Chupacabra with Tasmanian Devil tendencies. And my Lola, a pug who loves anything and everyone (except for Other Pug that lives in the reflection of the glass fireplace doors) and literally has no concept that not everyone loves her as much as she loves them. She is crazy and a clown that keeps us laughing. We are in a battle for Lola's survival right now as she is a hemophiliac and my wonderful blogging and Pug Slut FB friends have donated enough money that to date her treatments have been totally taken care of. She is having a little set back right now and will need another treatment next week but in the end this girl is going to survive, she just has to.

Which do you prefer to wear, black or white?
White doesn't show dog hair so I'll go with that.

What is your biggest fear?
Insects, any size or any kind.

What is your attitude mostly?
Sarcastic and truthful. I have no filter on my mouth.

What is perfection?
Johnny Depp

What is your guilty pleasure?
Pretending to be ignorant about all my family's drama (although they all keep me well informed by phone) since I live so far away so I don't have to deal with the silly shit.

Ten Random Things About Me:

1. I hated Physical Education so badly in school that I would claim to have be on my period 3-4 times a month to get out of class. It still amazes me that they never caught on.
2. I got so drunk my junior year on Boone's Farm Strawberry wine, hey don't judge, it was all we could afford at the time, that I stripped off my clothes and tried to swim in my friend's parents 50 gallon aquarium smashing several fish in the process. To this day we all laugh about it but never once has any of them told who the culprit was.
3. I hate small children yet I had 4 of my own. I found I could tolerate my own and loved them to death, but simply can not tolerate anyone else's children.
4. I would rather spend time with animals than people, they are far less irritating and don't say stupid things I feel the overwhelming need to correct.
5. For all my joking about Klonopin, pain pills and sleeping pills on this blog I have never in my live tried or used any recreational drugs.
6. I hate shopping and talking on the telephone.
7. I can legally perform wedding ceremonies. I do however, have to fight the urge not to scream out "Run, save yourselves before it's too late!" as the happy couple approach the alter. I always fear that someday I will give in to that urge.
8. I refuse to tell new parents with ugly babies how beautiful their baby is, the best I can muster is "Oh, he/she is so sweet", most of the time that is a lie too.
9.I hate beans and cornbread. I feel both were created by the devil to show us what hell is going to be like. Three meals a day of nothing but beans and cornbread. "Dear God: Don't let me kill anyone today so I don't have to go to hell and eat beans and cornbread every day."
10. The love of my life died in a car accident, I haven't and probably never will get over him.

My 7 choices are:
1. Dirty Cowgirl-Left Alone With A Full Moon-because Karma is a bitch and she writes and excellent blog that keeps me amused.
2. Dirty Bird-Living In An Estrogenic Flux-another blog that highly amuses me.
3. Lily-The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose-because we both have children conceived with the devil and aren't afraid to admit it to the world through our blogs. And she makes me laugh, always.
4. Frank-The Ranting Monkey- because he can make me cry, laugh or just think deeply on a subject. I like that in a man.
5. Mimi-Magical Mystical Mimi- Love this blog!
6.Dan-Working Dan-hilarious and the art work is always worth seeing.
7.Jo-The Bright Yellow Balloon-she never fails to make me laugh and that is what a good blog is about to me.

Saturday, May 19, 2012

But She's Pretty Child Goes To New Orleans

For the past four days there has been a big lawyers convention in New Orleans, all expenses paid. So But She's Pretty Child flew out there Thursday. She started sending me pictures of her "vacation". I lived there for 5 years and the city has always been close to my heart. I have always wanted to go back and see the places I miss so much, meet up with old friends and mourn what Katrina took away from my city. She knows this, has known it since she was a small child and so wanted me to be able to go back while my health still allows it. She invited me to go with them but I couldn't go because of Lola's treatments and knowing I still have to worry about paying the $400-$600 dollars for her future, and hopefully last, treatments there was simply no way I could afford it. So she has been blowing up my phone sending me pictures while she is there. My son and I decided, as a joke, we would blow up her phone with pictures of  our "vacation" too. This is the type of the pictures she is receiving:

All pictures taken locally around the town we live in and easily recognizable to her as being such. Only But She's Pretty Child would appreciate the humor in this and comment back on each "vacation" picture.

Then last night she is walking Bourbon St and runs into a filming of an episode of True Blood. Knowing I would jump Alexander Skarsgards (Eric Northman) bones in a heartbeat she starts taking pictures of him. That's good, and was interesting, she took several but this is the only one I am going to bore you with because no one really wants to see someone's else's vacation pictures:

Then I get this message from her that says "I touched Vampire Bill, I couldn't get to Eric!!!". Now if this was anyone else it wouldn't be a cause for concern. But it isn't anyone else it is But She's Pretty Child, who is capable of doing almost anything. I have these visions of her running onto the set and throwing herself on him. I haven't heard from her since late last night, she may be in jail for attempted rape or at the very least assault. Thank God she is down there with a bunch of other attorney's! I was already concerned for her safety when she ask a tour guide "Who the hell is Marie Lavaeu anyway?" But she's pretty!

Monday, May 14, 2012

Crossing The Line

There are some things people put up with, even if they don't like it. But we put on that fake smile and just ignore it while cussing the offender out in our heads. But there are other things that cross the line and just have to be talked about, one of these happened to me today.

There are a few rules to living in the south, even if your a transplant like I am these rules must be religiously followed:

If you hear someone say "Bless Your Heart" what they are really meaning is "Your such an idiot I would like to smash your face it".

You must learn to drink iced sweet tea, it's far more important than life saving medication here in the south. The Brit in me cheats and drinks mine hot, so far I have not been hung from a tree in the town's courtyard or used for target practice, but it could just be that I have not been seen breaking this rule in public yet.

You must own at least one article of camouflage clothing, I get away with this one by having a pair of camouflage pajamas, I figure this way if the CAMO swat team shows up to do a house to house check I can at least pull out these pajama's without actually having to wear camouflage in public. A security measure.

You go to church every time the doors are open. I am Catholic so they just consider I am a heathen anyway and don't bother me about that one. Shit, I'm not even sure they would classify us as human.

The beginning of Nascar, football and hunting season are celebrated as holidays.

If snow flurries are predicted all schools and businesses must close immediately so everyone can get to the store to buy that all important bread and milk.

You can have severe acne, missing limbs, smallpox, or any other "problem" but you damn well better not have even one crooked tooth or you will spend the next six years in braces. However, missing teeth are more than acceptable and if you got that tooth/teeth knocked out in bar fight it then transforms into a badge of honor to be envied by all.

You must own a shotgun, preferably proudly displayed in back window of your pick up truck on a gun rack. The truck must have the Confederate Flag displayed on it in some fashion. Since I don't own a pick up truck,  Confederate Flag and only own a handgun I fear for my life every time I leave my house. I have been informed that I really should not have the British Flag as my front plate and that duct taping a handgun to the rear view mirror or the back window of my car doesn't really count.

You must call everyone woman M'am. I don't care if she is 3 yrs old and your 40 yrs old she is still called M'am. I have a hard time with this one. I don't like small children to begin with so I really don't feel that the screaming brat with the snotty nose and untied shoes in line at the grocery store should be addressed as M'am, unless done sarcastically.

But the main rule is you NEVER go into a woman's purse for any reason. Not even if she tells you it is alright. The proper etiquette is to hand the woman her purse and let her get out what you want or need from it. I remember a patient once that came into the ER and I needed to know what medication she was on, the woman was unconscious. I ask her husband what medications she was on and he told me he didn't know but she had them all in her purse. I ask him to please hand them to me. He refused, a look of horror on his face as he said "I can't get in her purse, that just wouldn't be right, you will have to wait until she wakes up". It was only after informing him, rather loudly, that she most likely would not wake up if I didn't know what those meds she had taken were that he very reluctantly got them out for me, with his head turned to the side, never once actually looking in that purse.

This is what brings us to my Demon Seed crossing the line last night. He not only got in my purse but helped himself to a $10 bill. No hiding, no sneaking, he did it right in front of me. Then had the nerve to look confused and surprised when the hissy fit and the vapors quickly overcame me. Now I feel forced to enroll him in "The Southern School of Right and Wrong" or at least take him to a Southern Baptist Church for a few weeks. This is a hard decision when I have tried so hard all these years to instill some of my British ways in all my children. I am afraid they will brainwash him or pry out of him my secrets of still drinking hot tea and eating scones, they will teach him that biscuits are really cookies, they will tell him Christmas poppers don't exist, so many things they can wipe from his brain! Hell I home school him now just so he won't learn to chew tobacco and wear plaid flannel shirts. Not to mention it isn't going to be an easy task getting Satan's child into a Southern Baptist Church, I'm sure some of those old timers will sniff him out immediately.