Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Thank you, Lord!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
I see the term "your" used all the time incorrectly. If you're attempting to shorten the words "you are", it is "you're". If you are saying something with a possessive form of "you", it is "your".
So there, general public. I just finally posted it for your benefit because you're using it incorrectly.
Now on to the word "their". "Their" is a possessive term, referring to some people having something. "There" is a location-type term.
"They put their tent up over there by the trees."
Also..."wear". You wear clothes. In contrast to "where," which refers to something like when you wonder where someone is going. In other words, sometimes I can't help but wonder where someone is going to wear that outfit!
Sorry, I can't address 'its" and "it's" because I can't ever keep those straight myself. I think "it's" with an apostrophe is only for possessive. Hey, at least I can admit it. LOL! :)
For those that don't bother reading comments, Mrs. Smith, teacher of 4th graders, aka Stephanie, let me know this:
"It's" is only used when you are saying "IT IS" because it is a contraction. Otherwise, you use "its." Thanks, Stephie!!! But does my error mean that I'm not smarter than a fourth grader???
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
You really need to read this article. It is very enlightening in regards to these door to door sales people.
If you read it, it will make you think twice about opening your door next time.
If this company, Superior Subscriptions, hadn't scammed me out of the money for two, two-year subscriptions and then skipped town, maybe I'd be that much closer to one of those 'wants' I listed above. When you call them, you get the message that their voicemail is full. Gee! I wonder why? Also, because you waited the 12 week processing time, you are now past the cancellation/refund time with your payment method. Nice!
Here is the "Con"pany information:
7641 Deep Dell Ct.
San Diego, California
Keep in mind, they didn't cost me a Coach purse I simply wanted, OR an extra souvenir on a fabulous *imaginary* trip to Belize. No, being a single-income family, they cost me extra groceries, gas for my husband's commute, diapers or so on.
Thanks Superior Subscriptions! I appreciate it immensely. This company literally thought it was ok to steal money that my husband went to work for. It doesn't matter what the dollar amount was. It really doesn't. It wouldn't make a difference to me if it was $5 or $50. I would still feel angry that I was taken advantage of and that someone out there profited off of me as a scam artist. And, yes, they stole from me. If they didn't intend to, they could have very easily refunded my money electronically, just like I paid.
Since they won't return my emails or clean out their voicemail so that I could leave them a real jewel of a customer service commentary, one can only assume they don't care. That is sad!
Any dollar amount stolen from me is still my money that was stolen from me. Period.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
When I went back into the restaurant to ask if they knew your name, they tried to find it for me, showing me your credit card slip. Yes. They showed me the slip with your name on it. The server said, "well he wasn't very nice to me either," before she gladly showed me your signed slip. You should really work on your penmanship.
That royal blue MTSU shirt with the white writing on the back gives the impression that maybe you've been to college. The 20-something girl accompanying you was attractive and I felt so sorry for her that she wasn't riding with you and didn't get a chance to see you make a butt out of yourself. I really did like her dark brown, straight bob hairdo, pulled up in a barrette on the top. You know, mine looks similar when I have time to flat iron it. The two of you sat perched at your booth near the bar, her totally clueless to your inconsiderate behavior you had just exhibited to a lady, her two small children and her husband out for a Sunday lunch.
I explained to the restaurant staff how you came zipping up a different aisle and flew through one parking spot into the one I was clearly pulling into. How I sat there for a minute waiting for you to back up into your proper space so that I could continue into my spot. You glared at me like a fool, like I was less entitled to my spot that I had started to pull into before you flew into from the spot in front of me. Like I was a peon in my wagon compared to you in your dark blue somewhat recent Envoy-type vehicle.
You with your spacey-looking sunglasses and short brown hair. How I backed up, took a spot further away from the door of the restaurant in the rain with my two small children. How you stared us down and when I looked at you as we were almost inside, you threw your arms up in a confrontational manner. How I admittedly punked you out by throwing mine right back up, as to say keep hiding inside you car, low life.
How you didn't have the 'C.O.Jones' to get out and walk in at the same time as us. How we exited the restaurant and found that you spit chewing tobacco all on the back end of my wagon, just on the other side of the glass from two little car seats.
Woo hoo! Score one for you. You really showed me what a low life you really are...but you might want to go somewhere else for wings next time, because the manager wasn't impressed.
Friday, July 18, 2008
On Saturday, July 5th, I woke up feeling weird. We'd done the Fiddlers' Jamboree the day before in the scorching heat, and I had a hard time waking up. Then when I got up, my face looked really puffy and my eyes were dilated. It took a while but I got adjusted back to normal and dismissed it as just being exhausted.
On the following Tuesday, the 8th, I woke up with slurred speech. The first thoughts with the speech were, of course, something like a stroke, etc., but it went away. I checked my blood pressure (fine) and swore I would go to the doctor if it got worse.
On Thursday night, the slurring returned, but I couldn't go to the doctor on Friday because I had another show for my jewelry. That night at UDMD, I had to leave bc I felt so tweaked out and weak. Went home and crashed. Saturday, I was in the bed all day with a few exceptions of getting up and heading to UDMD to give Phillip a break from the booth that he was running for my jewelry. I had severe body ache and what I thought was a stomach bug. Sunday was a little better.
Then this week, the slurring got worse every day. I went to the doctor today because it seemed to be peaking. I have Bells Palsy. Lovely.
It should go away in 6 to 8 weeks. I should not have any permanent damage bc mine is concentrated in my speech/tongue and not in my actual face/facial muscles. Most people would not be able to notice that my left side of my face is lagging just slightly. So there you go; now you know the deal. If you see me and I sound like I have a speech impediment or am drunk, I don't and I'm not.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Me: Umm. OK. What for?
Miles: Mooooommmma, I got to do art about when Jesus was in da cave. The people put Jesus in the cave and put the rock over it. And I am gonna do that with the cup, the popsicle stick and the tape.
Miles: Momma, when I'm really, really old, like 100, like you, I'm gonna be a momma and Lola's gonna be a momma and there'll be three momma's in our family. But only one Daddy.
Me: Ahhhhm. No. Don't tell people that. When you grow up, you will get married and have your own husband.
Miles: Oh. (Disappointed)
I walk into the bathroom to catch Miles trying to plunge an almost-overflowing toilet.
Me: What in the world are you doing?
Miles: I'm plungin' it, Momma. It's too full of water!! OH NO!! It's gonna overflowwwww!
Me: What did you put in there?!?!
Miles: Ahhhm. Just tee tee and tissue. (long pause) And some poo poo.
I am trying to rest on the couch at 8 AM after fixing breakfast for Miles and Lola.
Miles is standing next to my head, grunting as she does sideways leg lifts to intentionally try to keep me from resting.
Me: Miles. Stop. It. Now. I am tired. I am trying to rest for just a minute. Stop it. NOW.
Miles: But Mooooomma, I'm praticin'g my exa-cises for kindergarten, Momma.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
OK, so here is the story behind my headline about Jolene not havin' nothin' on my boots...
Here it goes:
1.)Jolene is Jolene from the song. She steals other womens' men.
2.)The boots story is in regards to these boots that I had that were really high heeled and were 'snake skin' and I called them my stripper boots. One night I went to dinner to celebrate a friend's new job. There was this girl there named Rachel. She wasn't the most naturally attractive girl you ever met (that's for sure) but that's irrelevant (not really). We were part of a group and she got kinda of smarty when I asked if she knew my best friend who is from the same tiny town but claimed not to know my friend so I just dropped it. Later, we were suppossed to meet everyone downtown. Meredith (girl with the new job) got a call while we were sitting there wondering where they were. The girl said, and I really do quote, "I don't like that girl Dusty OR her boots so I am not coming." Then a year later, I was at a bday party. I went to the restroom with a friend; there was an empty spot at the table next to me. When we came out, she had sat down. She took one look at me and snatched up her belongings and huffed down to the other end of the table. I still, to this day, have no clue why she just hated me so much. THEREFORE...it has been a huge joke for a long time bc she was just psycho and hated me immediately bc people were complimenting my clothes and boots and she was homely.
3.) Girls like my husband; they like him in a forget he's taken kind of way. There have been a whole bunch of times when we have been out at night and some girl from college or his work or something will see us and be all drunk and basically forget that-HELLO- he is married and -HELLO-I am sitting RIGHT THERE. I actually had this chic lean down between the two of us one night at this bar Wall Street when we were still just engaged and she turned sideways while leaned over, back to me, tits to him and straight up made him so uncomfortable that he mentioned like three times that I was his fiancee. This has happened a bunch of times. It is weird. It is oddly common that some drunk girl makes an idiot out of herself by flirting and such with my husband.
4.)THEREFORE...Jolene ain't got nothin' on me and my boots...BC those girls think they are a bunch of Jolene's but they aren't...cause I am the one with the snake skin stripper boots. LOL.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The very pregnant lady, smoking on a ciggy while browsing my jewelry. This lady was sad. She was wearing a t-shirt that said "Love Child" while deeply inhaling her cigarette at my booth. She had bad grammar. I know you are shocked.
The comb-over that was really a comb-forward since it started an inch about his back/bottom hair line. OK, Jesus bless Grandpa's heart, but someone needs to convince him to just go bald. Grandpa, just rock that bald head. Just rock it. But for goodness sake, stop combing it forward. The next day, Phillip commented that he wondered if the man had to have someone else do the part for him. Sad.
The 50+ year old lady wearing a black bikini top and white pants. Just wait. Do you think she had the figure for it or not? This lady was wearing some cottony capri pants and a black bikini top. She did not have fat rolls but she did have one large 'man-belly' like a man with a beer gut. It doesn't look as bad in the pic but it was far worse in person.
The guy who kept peeing in his pants. Once, near the porta potty (which would later prove ironic), a man approached me and made conversation. He was smoking a cigar. He was using a cane for help walking because of two hip replacements. He was like 35. He told me he "sits around the house all day, repairin' watches and sleepin', " before I noticed that he REALLY looked like he had peed in his pants. He was carrying a cup from home with a dark liquid, which I am sure was Jack and Coke. We saw him two other times. Each time, over a short time span, he had clearly peed in his pants more and more. UGH. It was sad.
The pill-loopy lady who kept asking if I made my own stones. One of the mornings, a pitiful lady came to my booth. She had clearly eaten a fistful of pills for breakfast. Like loritabs, mepregans, etc. Anyway, she asked me over and over again how I made my own stones, like I was Jesus and said "let there be stones!" She finally got that I didn't make my own stones, but then began to repeatedly ask how I drilled my holes in my 'rocks'.
The man who lives in one of the trailer parks on North Tennessee Blvd. To clarify, he lives in the one where you own your trailer NOT the one where you get ripped off by renting your trailer. He was creepy. Kept wanting to know more about making and selling jewelry and was clearly about to ask for our contact info before we just began ignoring him to help customers.
The Mexi-mullet and the lady that just made me sad for her. This man's hair was almost waist-length...in the back. This lady broke my heart.
This man's shorts came up higher in the front than anything I'd ever seen. Note the brown open-heel sandals and black socks.
PS I am fully aware that I am going straight to hell for making fun of these people.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
- The very pregnant lady, smoking on a ciggy while browsing my jewelry.
- The comb-over that was really a comb-forward since it started an inch about his back/bottom hair line.
- The 50+ year old lady wearing a black bikini top and white pants. Just wait. Do you think she had the figure for it or not?
- The guy who kept peeing in his pants.
- The pill-loopy lady who kept asking if I made my own stones.