Tweeting Twats On Twitter

So my Pug Slut group, yes we are all sluts that own pugs, pretty much says it all. Anyway we have decided we are exchanging tweet names. Not ever having caught the tweet bug like so many have after signing up for it so long ago that I can't even remember when, I also no longer remembered my username and password so I had to get a new account. I am now the confused, owner of a twitter account. Do I know anything about it? Hell no. I can post a tweet and respond to one, that is the extent of my knowledge. I may not even be doing that I may be buying vacuum cleaners in cyberspace for all I know.

I don't know what to tweet on my twitter and do I use my twat to tweet? What about those of the other gender that don't have twats to tweet with? See just how serious owning a twitter account can be? If I do need use my twat to tweet then I am going to need some intensive lessons, that whole unused for a long time thing coming back to haunt me again.

Then there is the little matter of cussing. Can I cuss on twitter when I tweet? Because we all know I won't be able to tweet if can't cuss. I will be in Twitter Jail, I'm sure somewhere there is a Twitter Jail, I'm mean this twitter business is some serious shit here. Twitter people are rabid, they fire off messages faster than I can down a Klonopin and that is pretty damn fast. I have decided that Twitter is a talent, developed over many hours.

Then there is trending and hashtags. It's a whole other world out there. I imagine an underground empire of people who do nothing but tweet all day and night and eventually it spreads until it infects those of us still above ground. Are we in danger? Will the underground Twitters eventually get to us and move us underground with them? Confession: As long as they have good food down there and a pipe line to a few of my favorite fast food restaurants, that isn't a big concern of mine, I like it dark anyway.

What do you tweet about all day? I mean I am pretty boring. Do they really care that I just took a shit, or that I just put ribs in to marinate for dinner or that I am watching the latest low budget reality show that Bravo has put out this week? Upon reading some tweets I have decided that people do care about those very things and yet I still feel strange tweeting "Just fixed myself a glass of tea, put lemon it it, YUM!"

So much to learn about this Twitter but the bird is cute.

Rockin' Blogger Award

We all know I am horrible at folling directions for these awards, although I do appreciate the awards. This one is fairly simple, I might actually be able to handle the rules:

The rules are simple:

★Accept the award.

★Pass The Award To Other Rockin' Bloggers (since I think everyone rocks I am passing it on to everyone)

★Come Back To Rockin' Blogger Award and Link Your Blog!

Klonopin, Cupcakes and Baby Showers.

It is now only 11:45 am, late to some but early for me. I can't imagine anything else that could possibly happen to make my day even greater!

It started out with an epic medication fail, the sleeping pills didn't work for some reason and I didn't fall asleep until 3:00 am and promptly woke back up at 6:00 am. After laying there for at least 20 minutes bitching out the doctor, the medication and just about anything or anyone else I could think of (my Chupacabra Chihuahua is a very good listener, he even rolls his eyes at the right time) I looked over and discovered the reason for the medication's failure to do it's job. There it sat smiling at me on my nightstand. Probably wondering why they don't just lock me away somewhere since I am obviously not capable of caring for myself if I forget to take my medication.

I roll over to get out of bed with full intentions of taking the little bastard and going back to bed. Immediately both feet are attacked by something cold, squishy and wet. Dog vomit. I remember wondering last night when I gave the Chupacabra a bite of my sandwich if it would upset his stomach, now I know. It does. But for God's sake it's a big room, he could have vomited anyplace in that damn room and he chooses the one place I will step in the minute I wake up. By the time I wiped my feet off on my wonderful snowflake robe so as to not track it across the carpet, take a shower and throw the robe in the washer I am no longer in the mood to take the smiling pill.

I decide instead to just fix me a coffee candy bar, that's what my friend calls my coffee. You see I don't like the taste of coffee but love the taste of Coffee Mate so this is what my cup looks like before the coffee is put in:

Not enough Coffee Mate. Another round of bitching but I decide to make the evil brew anyway. I thought I would go sit on the porch with my witches's brew, smoke a cigarette and calm down. It worked fairly well in the 98 degree temp until I got too hot and decided to come back inside.

The door won't open. I have locked my idiot self out of the house. I have no hidden outside key because my FBI brother goes into hysterics every time I even mention it. It's quite possible that I can recite every case in the United States where someone was murdered or raped by the perp finding the hidden outside key, believe me, I have heard them all. Still this shouldn't be much of a problem since there are two teenage boys and two dogs in the house. I know the boys aren't going to wake up by hearing the doorbell but I know those two howler monkey dogs will. They will raise a ruckus that could wake the entire neighborhood. I ring the bell. Nothing. I ring the bell over and over again. Still nothing, not one single little peep from those traitor dogs! They always bark at the doorbell so then I convince myself that something horrible has happened to them while I was outside and then I realize I can hear the pug sniffing at the bottom of the door. So I go through my whole very high pitched voice "games" that will usually get her to barking. Nothing. No reaction except from a few neighbors who wonder why the hell I am outside in my pajamas talking to the bottom of my door in a high pitched voice. I think maybe if I get down to her level (cause she can see through doors, right?) she might respond. As I put my coffee cup down on the patio table I also realize that I have my cell phone in my hand. That is my saving ticket, while these boys might sleep through anything else you just let one of their cell phones even start to ring and they are wide awake and on it. Finally, I get in the house and give both dogs a proper snubbing and head for the Klonopin bottle. By now I need more than a little sunshine and a cup of coffee to calm me down. I am really worse off because I actually had to put some coffee in my Coffee Mate this morning.

Then my mother calls to express her "opinion" on mine and Rebecca's decision to share a house and expenses, giving us both extra money and getting her at least an hour away from her leeching children who now all live within 5 minutes of her and on a daily basis drop of one child or another, sometimes more than one for her to babysit while they run and pay the water/gas/power, etc. and it always takes them at the very least 10 hours to pay that one bill. They drop in to borrow $10 here, $20 there always going to pay it back on payday. She never sees the money again and living on a fixed income it leaves her broke because she doesn't know the meaning of the word "No". All of this is exactly why I have chosen to live an hour from my children, it isn't convenient to just "pop in" and leech when you have to drive an hour in traffic to do it and then another hour to get back home. Anyway, my mother isn't happy with this decision, but she is never happy with any decision I make so that is no big surprise. Everything I do has always been "not enough" or "too much", but never "right". Which is why I just don't listen to her and do what I want anyway. But she can try my patience in the meantime with her "opinions" on it all. So she is bitching, I am half listening while reading the paper and then I hear her ask "Just how well do you know this person anyway?" As soon as I could close my mouth I answered that she knew very well that I had known Rebecca for 30 yrs, that she herself has known Rebecca for 30 yrs having met her many, many times over the years. Then she asks "How do you know you can live with her?", I am almost at a loss for words when it hits me just what to say to shut her up "I know I can live with her because she has to powder her wuss after she showers, you can't know that about someone and not know them well enough to share a house with them." Then she throws out the best one she has come up with to date: "What if it makes you a Lesbanese?" WTF is a Lesbanese? Then it hits me what she is trying to say, in her world a Lesbanese is a Lesbian. Because we want to live in the same house to share expenses might make us lesbians or Lesbanese's, whichever way you want to look at it? I am by now laughing hysterically and thinking of all the ways I could torture her with that one single comment she made. I assured her we were both straight but had not ruled out being Sister Wives or Hookers to make extra money. She then hung up. By now my head is pounding so not only am I in need of Klonopin I need to find the Tylenol too.

I can't find the Klonopin bottle. I search for 30 minutes, in every little nook and cranny in this place. No bottle. I check the freezer because I have a habit of sitting things down while I get something out of the freezer and then leaving it there so that is usually where I find missing things and it isn't there either. This calls for an everybody out of bed, full blown swat team type house search. I know in my heart that I will not make it through this wretched day and no one I come into contact with will be left standing if I don't find that bottle. The day has barely started and I already want to kill or maim everyone who looks in my direction, imagine what it will be like by afternoon? It takes approximately 20 seconds for The Devil's Advocate to find it under the bed skirt of my bed where it had fallen off the nightstand and rolled under the bed skirt. With a parting shot of "Mom, start with the obvious places first, the flower bed outside was not an obvious place to start, start from the closest place to the scene where you last remember or saw the object and work your way outward, when you don't know what perimeter your working with you only waste time doing it any other way." Scene? What scene? This isn't a fucking murder it's just a missing bottle of pills! Mouthy brat, I have got to keep him away from all the FBI agents in my family, they are corrupting him. I quickly down the Klonopin, an extra dose since I have already missed one this morning.

I'm starting to feel calm, very calm for the first time all day and then my phone rings. It's Rebecca to ask me if I have the cupcakes finished yet. Cupcakes? What cupcakes? Now she becomes hysterical, "The cupcakes you were suppose to make and decorate for the baby shower this afternoon!" Please tell me you didn't forget them?" I can't lie to her, she would know in a heart beat, she knows me to well. No problem I got this, I have to bake and decorate four dozen cupcakes for a baby shower for a pregnant 14 yr old. Now this is Rebecca's granddaughter and we both have had issues with this baby shower since the m o t h e r (that's the only way I know of typing mother when I mean it loosely) planned it, it almost feels like we are saying "Yes, let's go out and have a party because you got yourself knocked up at 14 yrs old and guess what? We are giving you all kinds of gifts for it too! How cool is that?" The fact that no one is going to show up in the first place because neither the girl or her parents(Rebecca's son and daughter-in-law) have any friends because as Rebecca says "Being assholes runs deep in that family and not a one of them is smart enough to realize that the way they act is why no one likes them" makes it even harder. All that money the parents are putting out for this big baby shower they have planned for 50 people when only about 4 are going to show up, two of which are the girls parents the other two being myself and Rebecca is ridiculous. Why not keep that money you are spending on the shower and just buy what the baby is going to need on your way back from the Health Department to pick up a bag of condoms for her? Now that is the gift she really needs. Oh and a quick stop by Home Depot for some screws to screw her window shut wouldn't hurt either since she is so fond of climbing out said window to meet "baby daddy".

Dear God the cupcakes! I made them, I decorated them. They all look like they have a small light tan baby turd on top of the blue icing, it was suppose to be a pacifier. DO NOT ever decorate cupcakes while under the influence. It just isn't going to work out well for you. Upon looking at the cupcakes and laughing like fools we decide to go to the bakery and get some bakery boxes to put them in, that way we can apologize and say we bought them at the bakery and they are the ones that screwed them up.

So I'm off now to this waste of time and money baby shower so the five of us can sit and stare at each other and talk about how bad the bakery messed up the cupcakes. They can wonder why no one showed up and Rebecca can give me the evil eye so I won't tell them why no one showed up, she knows how much I dislike her son's wife, mostly because she dislikes her more than I do, and how I live for moments to let her know how much I dislike her. Rebecca just has better control of her mouth than I do, plus she might rat me out on the cupcakes.

Just My Kind Of Email To Answer!

I received this email this morning and I don't know why it strikes me as so funny. Is our world so fucked up that this is one of the major things we have to worry about?

Hi there Shea–

I thought you might want to let your readers know about the 3rd Annual Fragrance Free Day happening next Friday, August 10th, hosted by SeaYu.

The Environmental Protection Association (EPA) states that fragranced products like air fresheners, fabric refreshers and traditional cleaning products contribute to poor indoors air quality, which can lead to health issues, especially for pets with their faster metabolisms and respiratory systems, and close proximity to the ground.

Fragrance Free Day helps raise awareness about the dangers of fragrances in personal care and household products by giving people the chance to go “fragrance free” for one day. That means no perfumes, colognes, scented lotions or harsh cleaning products with added fragrances for one full day!

On Fragrance Free Day (August 10th), SeaYu will be hosting a live Twitter chat from 1:00 PM – 2:00 PM EST using hashtag #fragrancefreeday. Participants can get all their questions and concerns about fragranced products answered by a panel of experts including:

-Quincy Yu, Founder of SeaYu and green living expert

-Dr. Patrick Mahaney, Veterinarian, Certified Veterinary Acupuncturist

-Dr. Stephan Ziman, organic chemist

I thought you might help us spread the word about Fragrance Free Day using your social channels (Twitter, Facebook and of course, your blog!). And be sure to join the conversation on Twitter using the hashtag #fragrancefreeday!

Let me know if I can provide any more information.

Thanks so much!

Shelley

I am so tempted to join the conversation, all I can see is a bunch of sitting ducks just waiting to answer some of the questions I could come up with. But for once I will filter my mouth.....maybe. I can't promise anything.

I did however feel compelled to answer the email:

My Dearest Shelley,

Fortunately you have decided to have your little pow wow via computer, I can't even imagine being in a room full of people using no deodorant in this heat wave.

First I want you to understand, I love my dogs, I love my dogs almost as much as I love my children and on many days I love them more than I love my children, dogs are much easier to train and better behaved. So you see, you can deduct from that comment that I am a flexible person. However, there are some things I am very rigid on, personal hygiene being in the top five of my list.

I also want to thank you for your "personalized" greeting calling me by name, almost like we are close, personal friends. But that is also the one thing that told me is you really don't know me or you would know I am raising the Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate, children of the devil. Trust me when I tell you that 17 yr old boys are simply not good candidates for your Fragrance Free Day. While I realize that Axe deodorant and body spray are not the most pleasant fragrance you can encounter, it is much better than a 17 yr old's body sweat. We will not mention the socks and sneakers, I don't have the stomach for it. If I even told The Devil's Advocate he had to go without his Axe I am afraid he would open the portal and bring all his demon friends to attack as they all use it too. It quite possibly is the only thing they have found to rid them of that sulfar smell they get while visiting their father, Satan. I am quite sure there isn't anything else on the market today stronger than Axe.

Moving on to myself, I have rituals. These may have overtones of OCD, I'm sure a good psychiatrist would tell you they do. But they are non-negotiable. I have to bath everyday and no one, not even your Fragrance Free Day security could take away my scented Oil of Olay Age Defying soap or my Pantene scented shampoo and conditioner. Then there is this little matter of the after bath ritual and again in pure OCD fashion not one single step can be skipped or I would need more Klonopin than I am already on. I have to use my scented deodorant, my scented bath powder and my perfume. If I don't then I don't feel "clean", try to take that away and I might pull out a Glock on you. I am a very good shot so how about we just leave my rituals alone?

Your concern for my air freshner is appreciated although not needed. You see mine is automatic and mounted close to the ceiling, so rest assured that both my animals are way under the spray zone now that I have moved the horses out of the house. Now don't you feel a little silly for getting all worked up over nothing? I almost feel silly for you.

Oh and as for cleaning my house, what is the point of cleaning it if it doesn't smell clean? Just sayin', could be a personal opinion and I am the only person in the world that feels that way. I am willing to own my feelings and live with the consequences.

While, again, I appreciate your concern about my using fragrances and my personal hygiene, please don't write to me about it again or I will be forced to discuss douching products with you and so far I am very proud of myself for leaving that out of this reply. It is against my nature to ignore such an important subject.

Now if you will excuse me I am going to go blow my nose on those delightfully scented new tissues I bought this morning at the grocery, you should try them some time. But just to keep your anxiety levels down and to participate in some small way to your Fragrance Free Day I promise I WILL NOT, under any circumstances, let my dogs blow their noses with them.

Sincerly, your friend Shea

The One I Forgot To Tell You About

This was suppose to be included in part 2 of "My Best Friend aka The One Who Helps Me Hide The Bodies" post and I forgot so it gets it's very own post. I think it deserves it as it one of her better acts of tom foolery.

As I told you in part 1, we moved here and met on the same day and lived across the street from each other. My house was slightly larger than hers and had a different layout. One of those neighborhoods where someone came in and used only two floorplans to build the entire place. Mine was set up with the master bedroom on one end of the house and the other two bedrooms on the other end so sex for me was not a problem, well at least not because of my house layout, my husband being gone at the time on a military mission did cause it to come to an abrupt standstill. Rebecca's house, on the other hand was set up with all the bedrooms right next to each other, causing major issues with her sex life. This was back in the day, before they both laid in bed at night and thought of ways to kill each other and hide the body so they wouldn't get caught instead of places to have sex. I had two children at the time, Rebecca being a faster breeder than I was and quite possibly her wider hips might have had some influence on her rapid succession breeding. She doesn't agree, but that is another story and an ongoing debate between us for the last 30 years. Her husband was already out of the military and working for a local company here that ran three shifts (my husband later went to work for the same company, we felt it was safer for us to keep them confined to the same area during the same time periods, less chance of them catching up with us that way).

At any rate finding not only time while swinging back and forth between three different shifts, the amount of teacup humans they had to try and avoid and the sheer layout of their house, sex was not always easy. I am taking her word for this since I have never personally tried to have sex in her house. Well there was that one time I looked out her bedroom window and her neighbor flashed his penis at me, but I'm not sure that really counted. One night they decided to have sex in the living room. Now nothing wrong with that, come on, stop blushing we have all tried it in various places from time to time. Oh and for my email stalkers who love to write and tell me how offensive I am at times, if you fire emails at me over this post I am going to write in graphic detail every single place I have ever had sex in my reply to you. So you decide which is less embarrassing to read, this post or my reply email.

Now our living rooms had a street facing window that was huge. Wall to wall, ceiling to floor. For some unknown reason other than she might be slightly skewed she did not close the curtains that night. I'm not really sure if it would have made a difference in what happened or not, one of those mysteries of life we will never know.

The scene: Approx 1:00am

My house: My children and I had been asleep for hours.

Their house: They were doing the nasty, naked as jay birds in the living room floor.

My house: Suddenly there is a huge explosion, it was so loud you couldn't really tell where it was coming from, the houses all shook. Now my bedroom was in the back of my house so I couldn't see anything outside in the front, all I could think of was my furnace had exploded and I had to get to my kids and get them out of the house. Clothing for me was nothing I even gave a thought too, as we have discussed in previous posts my night time attire leaves a lot to be desired and is quite possibly the reason I have cobwebs in my vagina. Let's just say my sense of night time fashion was the same then as it is now, along the lines of lime green flannel pj's with monkey's all over them. So I just ran, grabbed my grumbling kids, who never even woke up during the explosion and ran out the front door. I quickly looked to make sure it wasn't my friend's house only to see her running stark naked down the middle of the street screaming "Get out! Get out an airplane is crashing!" WTF? An airplane? I didn't see an airplane in the sky, on the ground or coming in my direction.

I looked over and saw Bill and the kids standing calmly in their front yard calmly watching her run down the street, as were almost everyone that lived on the street, except the deaf guy, he missed the whole event. I walked across the street and ask him why the hell she was running down the street naked screaming about airplanes crashing. She is by now out of sight but we can still hear her yelling. He explains:

In the middle of doing the bump and grind comes that explosion, being in the front of the house and with the curtains wide open Rebecca looks up to see a huge ball of fire moving fast. From the angle of her house it looked like it was going to crash through her window right into her house. For some reason, known only to her, she thinks it's an airplane crashing. She screams at Bill to get the kids, two of which were already awake and running down the hallway and out the door she goes to warn the neighbors. She actually forgot she was naked. So I tell him to go get her, he tells me to go get her. The neighbors are looking at us both knowing he is her husband and I am her best friend. All of our kids are literally rolling on the ground laughing. We look at each other and know that ground is not going to open up and swallow us to hide our embarrassment. I decided I had to go get her, Bill throws a blanket my way just as I was getting in the car here she comes walking just as calmly as she could back up the road, naked as can be. I ask her later why she didn't just hide behind something and wait on one of us to come and get her. She said she figured by then she had already made such an ass out of herself that walking back wasn't going to hurt her dignity anymore. She was right.

The explosion? Just a transformer that blew on a power pole and sent a ball of fire down the power line. It was a rather large and impressive fire ball, even the power company agreed, but I still don't get how she saw an airplane out of it.

Before I end this I want to send you over to my good friends new blog, Jay isn't quite the idiot I am, he writes beautiful poetry, has been through a lot and his reawakening has been a little dark but he is a good writer and reading about his journey can be a learning experience for us all and a lesson in not judging by what you see or hear:

Brutal Telling from the Wings of a Reawakened Dark Angel

Deep In The Hood With Grape Koolaide

My friend and I were sitting on her porch the first night she moved in discussing if we ever thought we would want another man in our lives (btw we decided not so much), of course we had certain criteria that must be met. He had to have money, no former wife or children and be totally devoted to us. Then my friend looks at me and says "Look around, how fast do you think we are going to meet that man?" We looked around at our surroundings and came to the conclusion it will be when hell freezes over. We are on her porch, she has just moved in so our patio "furniture" consisted of one green plastic chair, one white plastic chair that takes a special performance to sit in as it is cracked and could at any moment dump your ass to the concrete and we have a wooden tv tray between us. Our hor dourves consisted of pre-packaged cheddar cheese cubes, Ritz crackers, a jar of peanut butter with one knife stuck in it, some saltine crackers with the wrapper split all the way down, two Hershey candy bars, 2 chicken legs left over from lunch at KFC and a bag of peanut M&M's. Drinks were two glasses of grape Koolaid because we were too lazy to go to the store for anything else and that was all she had in the house. I am dressed in my best gray sweat pants with the legs cut off at the knee and a Tshirt that says "Whatsssupp!", she has on her best shorts with the ripped pocket and a polo shirt with all three buttons missing. Oh and let's not forget my bare feet and her mismatched flip flops (the dog took off with one so she just grabbed another one as we went out the door for our evening of patio man planning, a green one and a blue one). All evening we had been thinking her new neighbors were being rude and rather uppity, hell they were probably terrified. Face it we looked like we came from the hood, deep in the hood. Even the rednecks are a little afraid of the hood. Yo!

So as we sat there in all our glory we start to weigh our options. What is really out there to choose from so we take a quick survey of the neighborhood. In front of one apartment is a pick up truck with the camouflage logo "Mossy Oak" emblazoned across the top half of the front windshield. Some suspicious looking dried substance that had at one time been dripping down the side of the truck bed. He was ruled out quickly.

Then we see another pick up, it's not that we are only scouting the pick up trucks, but we are in redneck country and they far outweigh the ratio to cars. This one looks nice, Dodge Ram, then I notice the horns attached to the hood and I would bet my life that when he honks his horn it plays "Dixie". He's out.

Finally we spot a car, but it has huge rims, primer paint in some places and mud flaps so we just know that romance is dead before it even has a chance to start. We just can't deal with the mud flaps.

She grabs my arm and says "Look, over there, right under the street light is a Benz!" We decide to watch the Benz closely.

Then of course there are three or four, we stopped counting, soccer Mom SUV's complete with the bumper sticker's "My kid is number 47" or "My kid can kick your kids ball" so they immediately fall under the no wife, no kids rule and we move on.

We are still keeping an eye out on the Benz.

Next we see a dark green pick up, I'm quite sure the name of the paint for that model is "Better to Hunt In" since there is a gun rack and guns in the back window. He is out immediately because we aren't dealing with anything dead until the Zombie Apocalypse comes and we are forced too and neither of us are attracted to squirrel tail coats.

Suddenly from out of nowhere came Billy Ray Cyrus chasing a naked kid across the parking lot. At least we assumed it was Billy Ray, sometimes all those mullets just run together and everyone looks alike. I mean he was clean and everything, which was more than we could say for some we saw, but for God's sake he had a fucking mullet!

We smell something really good, my friend looks at me and says "This just might be the one, food is always a big motivator in the love department." So we decide to get up and walk down the side walk a bit and follow the smell. We found it just about the time we hear a loud screeching woman yell "Johnny Bill, you did remember to put the Jack Daniels in the sauce didn't you?" He screeches back "Sure did, I'd never forget that." At which she replies "Well, if you don't need the rest of this bottle I'm just gonna drink it on down." Realizing that Jack Daniels would have to become a part of our regular diet to just look at Porky every morning and neither one of us being drinkers we decided that wasn't going to work for us either.

We are still watching the Benz.

On the way back to our elaborate patio set up we saw a woman sitting on the couch they had placed on their patio, breast feeding two babies at once. Only they weren't really babies, the youngest looked at least 4 and the oldest at least six. Then out the slamming screen door comes yet another child about 2 or 3 screaming "It's my turn now!" I told my friend to hurry up because the husband probably wasn't far behind and I wasn't sure my cheese and crackers would stay down if I had to witness that.

We make it back to the safety of our grape Koolaid and hor dourves, well first we made a quick trip in the house to grab some ice cream from the freezer, one container, two spoons, nothing fancy about us, we were fitting right in. We thought it might be a good survival tactic.

I finally looked at her and said "How long is your lease for here, did they not tell you about these people before you signed it? Could you not see them?" She replied "No, I think they are a lot like roaches they only come out at night and I was here in the daytime. I only signed a one month, can you come get me tomorrow and help me find something else?" I said "Of course I will as soon as we make sure the man in the Benz isn't a prospect. Now hand me some more of that damn grape Koolaid before they think we are becoming civilized and attack us!"

Then I spot him, the man with the Benz. Headed toward his car, all 4' 6", 92 lbs of him. I could be off a little on the height, it was hard to tell with the street light glaring off his bald head. Another prospect down the drain. I could live with the bald head, I happen to find a bald head sexy but the height and weight was a deal breaker for the both of us, he would never have survived the night with either of us.

We decide it is now time to move inside for safety reasons, immediately upon opening the door we saw a giant roach run across her floor. That was it, we were out of there and went back to my house to spend the night. She actually stayed with me until her lease was up and we found her a very nice apartment.

We are now taking a different direction and have decided maybe the life of a Sister Wife isn't so bad. Only we want to be the 8th and 9th wife so we never actually have to have a "night" with the poly husband. Oh and we ain't babysitting no screaming kids from the other wives either, been there, done that with our own, not about to do it all over for someone else's screaming brats. Again, there we go putting restrictions on our love lives!

My Best Friend aka The One Who Helps Me Bury The Bodies pt 2

Rebecca needs money to pay the power bill by the next morning or it will be cut off. Did I mention the girl has no idea how to manage money? So her husband, remember we are calling him Bill for this blog, has a gun that he dearly loves. I hated the gun because I honestly always lived with the fear that someday she would take all she could from his hateful ass self and use it against him. She decides to pawn the gun, but the guy at the pawn shop knows her and she doesn't want him telling Bill. So she has me pawn the gun for her. Now, I have never pawned anything in my life so this was a whole new experience for me. He asks questions, I assume he asked the correct ones, I answer, again assuming I give the right answer. I show him my permit to carry a concealed weapon (I worked with 2 of the best Private Eyes in the business at the time which is why I even had the permit, did I mention I am a damn good shot? I was trained well, one of my PI's was a former sniper and he trained me). So he takes the gun, says we can pick it back up tomorrow morning. Bill checks this gun everynight like he is going to make love to it so her challenge was to keep him away from the gun cabinet by pretending she couldn't find the key and distracting him all evening. We get up bright and early the next morning and go to retrieve the gun, different guy in the shop. He refuses to let me have the gun because I have an English accent(because the English are such a violent group of people and responsible for all stolen guns in the US apparently, at least in his eyes) and demands proof of my ID. Driver's license, gun permit, SS card, PI license none of those satisfy him, he wants my birth certificate. Naturally I can't find it and have to call my Mom to send me one. Only problem is she can't get a copy and get it sent to me that fast, it will take at least a week. Yet Jose standing beside me is able to pick up an assault rifle that his brother-in-law pawned six months ago, no citizenship papers, barely spoke English and had no pawn ticket. I threw a proper English fit to no avail. I still had to wait on the birth certificate. Now she has to figure out how to hide it from Bill for an entire week. Bill got a lot of special treatment that week. It was just a miracle I guess that the key was found the very day my papers came in the mail.

Bill had a son from a previous marriage that was the devil incarnate and determined to break up their marriage so he Dad would go back to his Mom. He decides he wants to move in with his Dad. He was old enough to know better at 16 but he launched a hate campaign that was unbelievable, told his Dad lies about Rebecca being mean to him (when in all truth she went out of her way to make him welcome and feel at home). We thought being the Mama's baby he was that he wouldn't last long and would head back to his Mama's house. Not so, we finally figured out he was firmly entrenched and we also figured out he was enjoying the chaos he was causing in the house between Rebecca and Bill and the children they had together. We decided it was time for Dude to leave. But she didn't want to tell Bill his own child wasn't welcome there. So we decided to turn the tables on ole' Dude, make him want to flee back to his Mama's house leaving nothing behind but his dust. So every night at dinner she would make Kool-Aid and pour it into the glasses herself. She would put each child's glass down by their plate and then at the last minute in a panicky voice quickly grab Dude's glass and say "No wait, that is the wrong one, this one is yours" and swap it for one of the other kids glasses. She would do the same with his food. About a week of this and he thinks she is trying to poison him and won't eat or drink anything she has touched. He was a very heavy sleeper so every morning about 5 am I would head across the street to her house and with the kid in bed, sound asleep we would totally rearrange his room. When he would get up for school and notice the bed was on the opposite wall, the dresser moved and ask about it we would get up and go to his room to look and then tell him it looked just like it did the night before when he went to bed. We did this every day for 2 weeks, now he thinks she is trying to poison him and the house is haunted. Next we would wait until he went to bed at night and alter his clothes, make his pant legs and shirt sleeves shorter, move the buttons over so the shirt was tighter to button up. Now the kid thinks he is not only being poisoned and the house is haunted but he is growing abnormally too. We had him out of their in about a month, he hi tailed it back to Mama's house so fast he was a blur.

Two of our boys were the same age, a month apart and had become fast friends. You never saw one without the other, well except for the night we had to seperate them for the trip to the emergency room when they played the BB gun dance. They were about 12 yrs old at the time and had found a clearing in the woods they thought would be a great hang out for them. A most secret place where no parents could go because they didn't know where it was. We sat back and watched them collect old items the neighbors were throwing away and disappear into the woods with it. One day while they were at school we decided to take a trek through the woods to find the hangout. It didn't take us long. They really did an impressive job. Had a whole little living room sat up, complete with an area rug, sofa, chair, coffee table, two end tables and some knicknacks. You really didn't think we were going to leave them alone did you? No way. Every day while they were at school we hit the hide out and rearranged all their stuff, take something away or add something new. Now this is a secret place so they can't tell us what is happening. One night they wanted to camp out at their hideout, that was fine with us, we knew where it was and it was very close to the house if you used the route we did (they never discovered the route we used so it took them twice as long to get there and they thought they were much farther away then they actually were). So we wait until about midnight, dress all in black and do nothing but randomly walk the perimeter of their hideout. They kept seeing the "shadows" but couldn't tell what it was. Then I started growling, I swear you have never seen two boys run so fast in your life. The next day we told them it was us doing everything it all along. We just wanted to have some fun with them not take away their hang out spot.

So Rebecca has an uppity sister, who is also a criminal, similar to my own sister, which is whey we claim each other and not them. But her sister thought she was the creme de la creme of society and loved putting on airs. I really hate people that put on airs. She invited us to an afternoon tea with some more high society ladies. We were overjoyed at the prospect of high tea and the chance to mingle with high society. NOT But we went, just not quite as ourselves. We went thrift store shopping and picked out the ugliest outfits we could find that didn't fit us. Then showed up to the tea "fashionably late" so everyone would see us. Of course we made terrible asses out of ourselves with our bad manners, slurping tea, dropping crumbs. It was like the Beverly Hillbillies went to vist Paris Hilton. We had so much fun but for some unknown reason we were never invited back.

Then one early morning I got the call I had been dreading. Over the past two years they were together Bill had started becoming not only his usual verbal abusive self but he became physically abusive. I know my friend well and knew she would not put up with it long. He was one of those that after it was over he acted like it had never happened. For about three months he had been unusually mild, when I ask about it she told me she had been spiking his coffee every morning with Valium and he stayed in a pleasant mood all day and night. I'm all for that if it worked, if you knew Bill you would have been all for it too. He didn't have time for coffee that day so he didn't get his "dose", he came in and started on her and the kids. It escalated throughout the night, no one slept. As soon as the kids left for school, after he had tried to choke her, had given her a black eye and bit her several times she politely offered to fix him coffee. Of course in his mind it had never happened and he was once again ruler of his kingdom. Then I get the call and she says "I think you might need to come up here, I think I killed Bill this time, I can't rouse him at all", I can't even imagine the panic I was in when I drove to her house. I just knew she had finally shot him with his own beloved gun and I was terrified. I ask where he was and she told me he was in bed. So I ran back to the bedroom expecting a mess and trying to figure out who to call first and what they would do to her. But there he laid, all in once piece. I barely can get a pulse but at least I had one, I sent her to my car for my medic bag after she tells me she only spiked his coffee, she just gave him a "few extra" this time. He is breathing on his own, but his heart rate and blood pressure are low. She didn't give him enough to kill him but he did end up having one of the best naps of his life with me sitting right beside his bed for 8 straight hours, afraid to leave in case he did crash. While I watched him she went to see an attorney and filed for a divorce and restraining orders and then brought charges on him for the abuse. As soon as he groggily woke up he was carted off to jail, found guilty and spend some time there, out of all our hair finally. Of course he made a full recovery and thank God I no longer have to worry about what she is going to do to him. I ask her why she did it, she said she didn't do it to kill him just to shut him up and make him sleep long enough for her to go see the lawyer and file charges. She got that accomplished all right but I damn near had a heart attack over the whole thing.

I have strict instructions upon her death, if she is in the hospital I am not to go. As soon as they call me I am to go straight to her house and empty out the lock box, I am the only other one with the key. Then I can go to the hospital or the funeral home. During the funeral I am to stand at the head of her casket and everyone that walks by and says "Doesn't she look good" I am to reply "Not, really she looks pretty dead to me." For those that give the old standard "My they really did a good job making her look like herself, didn't they?", I am to respond "As long as you don't turn her over and look at the back, they never prepare the back." I am to ask for private time with the body (easy since her family owns the funeral home)at which time I am to put all contents from the lock box in the bottom of the casket with her, I know what every single item in there is, it's nothing illegal, just stuff she doesn't want her children to know. She is so serious about this that it makes me laugh hysterical every time she brings it up.

God I love that woman!