Sunday, December 27, 2015
Friday, December 25, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Monday, September 14, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Monday, August 10, 2015
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Friday, June 26, 2015
Sunday, June 14, 2015
I swear to Hip Hop Jesus that coming back to live with my parents is going to "kilt me dead!"
I've been up since before 7am, something I don't even do for work. Although I hear their morning noises, water running, shuffling of dishes, vegetables being chopped, it's been silent all morning, not like The Silver Fox's normal marching band routine. They even leave for an hour, while I'm studying.
However, as I am preparing to get on the phone for this interview, a homework assignment, the marching band begins.
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhooooooooooohhhhhhhhahw!" The Silver Fox howls at my Dad outside who is weed whacking.
She turns on the Motown/Doo-Wop music channel loud enough so that she can hear it throughout the house as she dusts. "It's in his kiss..." She sings outside my bedroom door.
The clock is counting down closer to 10 when I have scheduled this call.
She's quiet. Just like a child, that's usually a bad thing.
Then I hear it. The wheels are squeaking as they rotate on the hardwood floors. The joints of the machine creak. The cords, still wound in a circle, but unraveled from the machine lands on the floor with a thank-type noise. It's not a thud.
The plug is inserted in the wall, the engine revs and she is howling with the vacuum.
It's 10 o'clock. The vacuum is running, like a drunk driver she is banging into furniture and walls, and she's singing with the music.
I gather my belongings together to sneak out to my office, aka my car. It's the only silent place I can go to conduct business. But with the eyes in the back of her head she sees me, "Where do you think you're going?"
"I have to conduct an interview for school."
It's the only acceptable answer I can give her to get me out if the house. And just like that I'm 17 again asking for permission to leave.
Last weekend I attended the Memphis Punk Fest. On Friday I was making my rounds and saying hello to all of the familiar faces. One of the musicians I know introduced me to his new bandmate, "This is The Press, be nice to her."
No name, just "The Press, "which would be a fantastic nickname if I were a wrestler. But there I was standing in disbelief. I thought y'all were nice to me because I follow the Golden Rule and of course my charming personality and not to mention good looks.
Look y'all, I've been real distracted this week and I've neglected to do my laundry. But if this last pair of granny panties (before I have to only wear the sexy ones) slides off my hips and halfway down my thighs one more damn time I'm going to step straight out of them and keep walking.
Earlier this week I had a hunk of skin removed from my body leaving raw meat in its place. I guess it's true what Bridget Jones says about single women over 30, "underneath my clothes, my entire body is covered in scales"
This morning I came out of the shower and I asked The Silver Fox if she would please apply the bandage to that spot. I can see it in the mirror, I just can't shift my body parts and reach it with my T-Rex arms all at the same time.
I hand her the prepared Band-Aid. She cannot see the hole on my body that reveals the raw meat. When she finally sees it she wastes no time in applying the Band-Aid. She's not gentle as you might expect from her experience and years of mothering. I imagined we would have a tv commercial moment, she'd gently smooth on the Band-Aid and probably say something like, "You should probably get this one looked at too." Nope. She slaps the Band-Aid on like it's a price tag. But it won't lay smoothly across my body so she keeps slapping it. Then she wants to rip it off to start over! I don't quite think she grabs the concept of needing a Band-Aid as a protection for an open wound.
This morning as I was getting dressed I put my fingernail straight through the fabric of my panties. I wore 'em anyway in the thoughts that I can throw them away after wearing them.#disposablelaundry
As I'm making my hour long commute to work, this is exactly how my thought process played out as I remembered, "Shit! I've got a dermatology appointment today that will have me in a paper gown. He'll see my tattered panties. Oh well, fuck it.! Last week I had a nip slip in front of him. I'm sure he can handle some Sunday panties."
with gear. The drummer is stretched out over the entire benchseat. His feet are filthy. He's sleeping in the parking lot before his next gig. This is the side of Rock'n'Roll you don't often see.#mprfest3 #memphisfamous #fucktylermiller
Friday, May 1, 2015
Thursday, April 23, 2015
"Hey, I bet you can't push me off this bed while I'm jumping!"
On the third jump I lunge with my arms straight out and land a solid push directly into his stomach which sends Trey flying across the bedroom directly into the 90 degree corner jutting out to form the wall for the closet. He landed with a thud against the wall and rolled into the closet. That is usually the sort of noise that sends parents running towards the commotion, but not my parents. Trey touched the back of his head and came back with blood on his hand. He began to cry. That is when my parents came into our shared bedroom.
The Silver Fox wants to know, "What happened?"
"I pushed him off the bed while he was jumping. He told me to try to push him off."
"You know better than to dare your sister to do anything. She's going to do it!And you're not supposed to be jumping on the bed!"
So, Trey got in trouble and he had to get stitches. Since then, we keep the dares to a minimum.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Monday, March 16, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
|Our front yard and the neighbor's house. It's real snow!|
|I have Wookie fur on my boots! No Wookie's were actually harmed in the making of these boots.|
|Vintage Tupperware is used as the vehicle to capture snow.|
|Only one serving of Snow Cream left!|