100th Post

To commemorate my 100th post, I have removed my other blog. You know, the one about my dating pratfalls. It is my prayer that I don't have to revive it. Merry Christmas Readers!

Christmas Movie Trivia

My Bff loves her some Christmas movies. I do not. Each day she posts Christmas Movie Trivia questions on her Facebook, and is offering a Starbuck's gift card to the person who answers the most questions correctly. Thus far, I have answered none (correctly). The problem is, she posts questions about shitty movies. There are only three holiday movies (tops) that I can sit through. None were made in the last decade. She refuses to post questions about these movies, preferring to use the likes of "Fred Claus" and "The Santa Clause" instead. I would rather gauge my own eyes out than sit through that. But, judging from the response that she gets, I am in the minority. So, in true BFF fashion, I will do my own quiz. Here.

And now I present: The FormerMeanGirl Holiday Movie Trivia Quiz
(I call it a quiz, not a contest, because no one is going to win anything...sorry, times is tough.)

1. In "It's a Wonderful Life", when young George Bailey gets slapped upside the head by his senile pharmacist boss, what flavor is the jelly that comes out of his bad ear?

2. In "Home For The Holidays" (the good one with Holly Hunter), who approved that awful version of "Evil Ways" that plays in the intro?

3. In "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" (claymation version), who hid Santa's Paxil?

4. In "Frosty The Snowman" (cartoon version), where is the school counselor when all these kids are following an imaginary snowman around town?

5. Follow up question for "Frosty The Snowman", how much should the dosage of Karen's Risperdal increase to prevent any further hallucinations?

6. In "A Charlie Brown Christmas", why does Linus sound exactly like Kevin Bacon during his monologue about the nativity?

7. In "A Christmas Story", where is the buffet with pizza in the Chinese joint they eat at in the end?

8. In "Home Alone", why were they so worried that they left that brat at home? I would have done that on purpose.

9. In "The Nightmare Before Christmas", what the feck was Tim Burton taking? And where can I get some of that?

10. In "Christmas Vacation", who actually owned the camper that Randy Quaid squatted in?

And there you have it folks. You're welcome.

Getting Toys

The mother of my best friend had a collection of self-help, business management type books in the spare bedroom of her home. BFF and I were hanging out in that room one day, probably pilfering for something, when she pointed to a book on the shelf. The book was titled, "Getting To Yes." I assumed it was some sort of deal-closing advice book. BFF then told me that when she was a kid, she thought the book was titled, "Getting Toys." I never saw the book the same way again.

Recently, BFF and I were talking about that book and how awesome it would be to actually have a book that gave you step by step instructions on how to get the thing you most want. Not the thing you are supposed to want, like inner strength or serenity; but the thing you really want, such as toys, candy, happiness without struggle or responsibility. We discussed how one could title a book with a hook, such as "Getting Toys", and then enclosing a lesson inside the book; such as how to clean your room or be more obedient. Surely, the children of the world would pick up a book entitled, "Getting Toys". This led to a running list of books, a series perhaps, of new covers for old books. New covers to hook people into reading the books they should be reading, thereby manipulating the reading public. Trickery, if you will. Here are some ideas:

New Cover/Title for:

The Bible-"How Not To Burn In Hell For All Eternity"

The Dog Whisperer-"How Not To Come Home To Dog Turds On Your Sofa"

The World Is Flat-"Interesting Tidbits To Discuss At A Cocktail Party To Appear Smart For 3 Minutes"

Little Women-"Fall Asleep In 2 Minutes Or Less...Every Time"

Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus-"How To Get Your Man To Rub Your Feet Every Day, How To Convince Your Wife To Let You Buy A Corvette"

Lord Of The Flies-"How To Convince Your Parents to Not Send You To Summer Camp"

Lord Of The Rings-"How To Ensure That You Never Have To Talk To Women. Ever."

Eat, Pray, Love-"How To Feel Miserable About Your Lack Of Money"

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People-"How To Annoy Every Person You Encounter"

The Secret-"How To Lead A Life Of Futility and Disappointment" (ed. note: The people who would read the "The Secret" would likely read a book entitled "How To Lead A Life of Futility and Disappointment" to solidify their self hatred.)

Chicken Soup For the Soul-"How To Wear Appliqued Cardigans and Wooden Necklaces So That People Think They Can Take Advantage of Your Kindness"

Who Moved My Cheese-"How To Delude Yourself That You Actually Have Control Over The Things That Happen To You" or "How to Incorrectly Use Analogies To Appear In Control In Times of Distress"

What To Expect When You're Expecting-"Short Stories About Hideous Things That Will Happen To Your Body If You Have Sex"

Martha Stewart's HomeKeeping Handbook-"Make Your Friends Feel Inadequate When They Visit Your Home, Thereby Getting The Social Upper Hand"

Canterbury Tales-"Explicit Descriptions of Sodomy in Merry Olde England"

Helter Skelter-"A Few Satisfyingly Disturbingly Scary Pictures Mixed In With Many Many Words"

A Million Little Pieces-"I Pissed Off Oprah"

Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man-"Date Like a Middle Aged Black Adulterer"

He's Just Not That Into You-"How To Alienate Every Shy Man You Encounter"

Ok, Ok...so I got a little off-topic and changed the focus about halfway through. Maybe I should have titled this entry:

"Lines You Can Steal To Crack Up Your Off-Kilter Literary Friends"

or even:

"Something To Read While Taking A Break From Facebook"

Behind The Camera

I was recently engaged in a shame filled disagreement with a close friend. Ok, someone recently got pissed off at me because I updated my Facebook status during dinner. And, he had every right to. Of course, I tried to defend myself...but deep down I knew I was wrong. And I felt ashamed. It blew over rather quickly and before long we were back to normal. But, I was different. I saw things through different eyes, now that my habit had been pointed out to me. Updating my facebook/tweeting/texting/etc is my equivalent of walking around with a camera at the ready and never actually seeing the things I photograph (which I am bad about as well.) Basically, I am so concerned with informing everyone of my good time that I forget to actually have a good time.

Now, I do love my social media. I can't imagine life before it. But, I should. I spent at least 32 years without it (yes, I was tardy for the party). And in those 32years, I saw things with my own eyes. I skied down Camelback Mountain, alone, only screaming part of the way down...without updating anyone on my progress. I watched the formerly sucky 1991 Atlanta Braves parade down Peachtree Street in a ticker tape blur without so much as a hanging chad to show for it. I got married, not once but twice, without the world knowing every single step along the way. The engagement picture in my hometown newspaper had to suffice as my "status update". I spent a week in Las Vegas and saw more things in that one week than I have cumulatively seen in my entire life; and have very few pictures to show for it. These were times in my life that I was present for the present. And, my memories of these times are rich and detailed.

Now the flipside. I finally made it to California in 2005. I had always wanted to go and was so excited to be sent there for a conference...on someone else's dime. I spent the entire trip behind my camera, capturing everything I could on film as if I was about to be diagnosed with Alzheimer's. And you know what? I remember very little about that trip. And, what's worse, my film was ruined on the trip home; therefore, I don't even have the pictures to show for it. Everytime I think about that I get pissed with myself. I took that trip in the future. My logic was "I'll just get all this on film so that I will always be able to look at the pictures and remember what it was like." Nope. Didn't work. When I think about that trip, all I can think about is how filled with regret I am that I didn't actually experience the trip...I just documented it. So, why didn't I learn my lesson? I think I have the answer...

If I can convince my 200+ Facebook friends, random tweet followers, and text addict friends that I am happy and having the best time ever...then it must be true. It's called validation and I am clearly addicted to it. Somewhere along the way, my own validation of myself became unimportant and I required the admiration of people who matter very little to me to feel as though I have accomplished something. Social Media is like crack to a validation addict. My Iphone is my pipe. It is my trumpet, allowing me to blare my happiness and good fortune to the public. But, you know what? Trumpets are loud and annoying. What if I literally had a trumpet instead of an Iphone?

"Yeah, I'll have the filet, medium well." ATTENTION! CUE THE HORNS! FMG IS AT A FINE DINING ESTABLISHMENT AND SHE JUST ORDERED A STEAK! "Oh, and also a glass of merlot." ATTENTION!!! CUE THE HORNS!! FMG IS GETTING HER DRINK ON AT THE FINE DINING ESTABLISHMENT!!! Sitting across from my friend ATTENTION!! CUE THE HORNS!! FMG IS NOT ALONE AT THE FINE DINING ESTABLISHMENT!!! we discuss THE LATEST NEWS STORY which I have googled right there so as to have UP TO THE MINUTE information. The food arrives. ATTENTION!! CUE THE HORNS!! FMG IS ENJOYING HER MEAL. HERE IS A PICTURE OF IT. DON'T YOU WISH YOU HAD THIS MEAL? After dinner, my friend and I decide to get a coffee. ATTENTION!!! CUE THE HORNS!! FMG HAS LEFT THE FINE DINING ESTABLISHMENT AND IS NOW ON HER WAY TO STARBUCKS!!

See what I mean? I can't imagine sitting across from someone and only seeing the top of his head as he looks down at his Iphone for the majority of the meal. But, I was guilty of this and it was pointed out to me and for that, I am sorry. Truth is, there was no one else I would have rather been sitting across from, but as with all addictions...the fix always wins out. That admonishment served as a 180 day stay at Crossroads for me. I put the pipe away and counted myself as present. And, I have the vivid memories to prove I was there.

Everythings Fine...Really!

Last week, I was on my way to my appointment with my therapist. Yes, my therapist. You don't go through all the bullshit that I have survived in the last 16 years without one. Plus, pouring all my complaints out to someone every two weeks keeps me happy and funny for everyone else. Anyhoo--so I was on my way to see her and I thought to myself, "Wow, I really don't have anything to talk about today. I must really be doing well. Maybe I will suggest tapering off so that I can use that $40 on something else." I got to her office and sat down, without the usual long drawn out sigh. She asked how things were going and I smiled brightly and said, "Great!" She asked for details.

How I went from "Great!" to a weeping "See you in two weeks" mess is the subject of my post today.

I proudly told her how I had enforced my boundaries over the last couple of weeks. We discussed how awkward and weird that felt and she gave me some pointers in tweaking my approach and perhaps toning down my offensiveness. I mentioned, just in passing, that I was still unsure about how to proceed with the issue of relationships. Of course, she wanted to hone in on that one remark. And, in just 40 minutes, my facade came crumbling down.

I mentioned that I still felt so scared to commit to anything, afraid of the consequence, and ultimately, afraid of making the wrong choices...again. She did a brief rundown of the things I chose not to commit to over the last two years and we discussed how, thus far, it would seem that I had made good choices. However, I have chosen not to commit for so long that it is like second nature now. And the reason I choose not to commit? Because I want to avoid the searing white hot pain that I have become accustomed to when I go all in. This has boiled over into every aspect of my life, from work to what to have for dinner. I can't decide on anything. I keep my options open until the very last second, until I am forced into a decision, and then I lament how pressured to choose I felt. Or, I will decide, then change my mind, then change it back, then change it back again, and so on; finally becoming so exhausted with it that I eventually lose interest. After reviewing this, I was still fine and slightly less optimistic, but still good. I remarked to her that it has been so long since I was in a serious relationship that I don't think I would know how to act. She reminded me that there was no script, only just the commitment to be my "authentic self". That's the problem, I reminded her. When my "authentic self" comes out, all of a sudden things start to fall apart and next thing I know, I'm gathering quotes from moving companies. The problem, she reminded me, was that I didn't show that "self" at the beginning, instead just bringing her out later and expecting everybody to accept her. So basically, I am guilty of acting like nice, fun, sparkly girlfriend in the beginning and then turning into a bitch on wheels down the line. Well, kinda. Anyway, we discussed more of my fears about committing to any relationship...even those that have thus far proven promising and positive. I had a list a mile long:


I'm afraid I will overreact about something minor and kill the relationship.
I'm afraid I will change my mind.
I'm afraid I will choose, then pine over the one I didn't choose.
I'm afraid of wanting something completely different 5 years from now.
I'm afraid I will fall in love and devote myself to someone who is careless with me.
I'm afraid I will have to upset the neat little apple cart of my life.
I'm afraid of being uncertain about the relationship's future.
I'm afraid of going to bed angry.
I'm afraid of sleeping next to someone who is angry with me.
I'm afraid of finding an errant receipt for dinner for two...that I didn't eat.
I'm afraid of hang-up calls.
I'm afraid of EVERYTHING.

See, I am able to talk myself out of a relationship every time. My therapist leaned in and said the words that totally demolished my "Hey! Everything's fine! Really!" facade. "I want you to live. I want to see you live instead of hanging back on the sidelines because you are afraid of messing up. Your fear has kept you from really living for long enough now. I would rather see you live messily than not live perfectly."

I couldn't stop the big fat tears from spilling over. It hit me so hard because, well...she's right. I have allowed fear to completely paralyze me. And now, I can barely order dinner without second, third, fourth, and fifth guessing myself. I can barely get my paperwork done because if I can't do it perfectly, then I don't want to do it at all. And, I can't let the right one in for fear of forcing the wrong one out. Therefore, I have just been floating along, keeping every option open but not choosing any. That's not to say that I don't want to choose. I actually do. I want to be in a relationship, but I also want a guarantee that it will be the last relationship and that I will not ever get hurt again. As long as I wait for that, the right one isn't coming. Thus far, I have been okay with that. Preferring not hurting to taking a risk. I am beginning to not be okay with that though. And my only thought is...."YIKES!!!!!"

My vision was blurry as I opened up my calendar to schedule our next appointment. "Ok, so...how about two weeks from today?" she asked.

"Works for me", I replied.

Meanness Overload

This weekend, I visited my mother. She lives in Hardin County, in a small community known as Crump, TN. We had no plans for the weekend, but I noticed that the county fair was going on, so I suggested we go over to Savannah for some good old fashioned county fair fun. And, candy apples. So, away we went. And thus began my education of just how different people are the farther away from the metropolis you get.

First of all, we were charged $5 each to enter. Normally, this would not be an issue, but was the fair even open? No rides were going. There was no music. I'm used to at least the blaring rock music from the Himalayan ride, complete with the redneck barker (DO YOU WANNA GO FASTER?). Nothing. Even the brightly colored fried everything food stand was empty. A tumbleweed swept by. This was the makings for a bad horror flick. Mom and I headed over to the "exhibit hall".

The first thing on display that I noticed upon entering the exhibit hall was a man holding a large white cat like a baby. And, the cat was allowing this. The second thing I noticed was this:


Dude was proud of his girth, too. I bet he beams with pride when someone calls him "Big John". He is probably the high school football coach.


Anyway, on to the real exhibits.



And really, what is a good ol fashioned county fair without a Jesus table? I, myself, prefer to balance out my fun and gluttony with a reminder of eternal damnation and hellfire.




I see someone in Hardin County has a sense of humor. And, perhaps a sense of irony, as this was next to the Table O' Jesus. But, that may be pushing it.


I'm starting to notice a theme here. His cap said "Security". Guess he was in charge of guarding the funnel cakes.


Big Orange was a common site. I told a friend that it looked like Neyland Stadium puked all over the fair. I'm no Vols fan, but the licensing committee really should have better control over who dons their logo. This is not exactly a good representation. But, it is typical.


A new twist on the old "business in the front, party in the back" mullet joke. Only, the front went out of business. The front is closed. These men have some sort of deep seated need to prove their hair growing virility. Yeah, I can't grow anything up top, but look at this mane that I have cultivated below my ears!


In the end, it was all worth it though.

I can justify my exploitation of these folks. There was not a friendly face in the crowd. It is my nature to smile at strangers, I don't know why, because the commentary ticker in my head is usually ripping them to shreds, but either way; I gave these folks a chance to redeem themselves. I smiled at each one of them, and was met with half open mouth breathing and vacant eyes. I never thought I would say this, but I missed the friendliness of metro living. It is funny to me that the consensus in these parts is that Memphis is a terrifying place that one should never venture outside of a church trip to the Picadilly. I found their surroundings equally scary.

She Needed The Money

My best friend and I have a secret thing that we do, as most women do I'm sure. We facebook snark. Throughout the day, we patrol the status updates of our "friends" and then text back and forth about how retarded said friend is. The exchange usually ends with me making her an offer of money for a mean comment. For example:

me: Crisp $20 bill in the mail to you tomorrow if you comment "Jesus doesn't love you anymore".
her: No way!!

me: A $50 check could be on it's way to you if you comment "guess you should have used birth control"
her: no.

me: 2 $20 bills are being placed into an envelope right now. I will write your address on the envelope if you comment "hey wait, weren't you married last week?"
her: you do it.

But not tonight. Nope. Tonight, she cracked. Two former classmates, met cute and married. They live the most awesome life ever since having the most awesome child ever. One is a mousy ham-armed bitch. The other is a George Hamilton wannabe corporate drone. A match made in heaven. Life is just fecking fantastic for these assholes and thank god there's facebook; otherwise, I might miss the minute details of their fabulous existence. Ok ok, I will admit two things. First...the corporate drone...my boyfriend in high school (not the important one, though). Secondly, the only reason I added them (him, her, who knows...they share facebook...how lovely) was to sharpen my catty claws at their expense. My friend is mean, not as mean as I, but she is learning. The following update popped up on my news feed:

C*ndy S**th H**f ‎.... the cook at Banzai tonight told Lamar and I we were famous....he thought I was Tina Fey & he thought Lamar was Steve Carrell.
58 minutes ago via Facebook for BlackBerry · Comment ·LikeUnlike · Share

Am*nda G**nn Rams**r Hahahahaha! Did you sign autographs?
55 minutes ago · LikeUnlike.

C*ndy S**th H**f No autographs please :)
51 minutes ago · LikeUnlike.


This is where I sent my best friend a text, offering up $20 for a comment insinuating that dude was just looking for a tip. Before I could say "Cha Ching!", I saw the comment box expand:


C*ssie F*m*y That guy will say anything for an extra tip!!!!!
25 minutes ago · LikeUnlike.

C*ndy S**th H**f No extra tip, their automatic 15% is already too much for the poor service. Plus, Tina Fey and Steve Carrell really don't impress us that much. I mean really, do either of us look like them? I have glasses but that is it. :)
21 minutes ago · LikeUnlike.

Awesometastic. I could hear the sputtering from 500 miles away. Meanness is a quality best exercised among friends and best rewarded with cold hard cash. Unfortunately, my friend won't be receiving that $20 anytime soon. Yet another lesson in meanness. Courtesy of moi.

Oh, and don't feel bad for the Tina Fey non-look-a-like. Bitch had it coming.

One more thing, in case anyone was wondering. Being small and petty is quite satisfying every now and again. Hey, at least I'm honest.

Eat Walk Die

I had an eventful weekend.

I saw "Eat Pray Love" and left with my usual lament that it wasn't nearly as good as the book. But, it was still good. I was melancholy as Hell on the drive home. I haven't yet processed all of it; but the gist is this: I wish to God I had enough money to escape for a year. I would edit Ms. Gilbert's itinerary by omitting India, opting instead for Greece. I could come much closer to God on an isolated beach. I would keep Italy and Bali in, though...as long as Bali held the same Javier Bardem promise. I have the same hang up that Ms. Gilbert suffered, I want to know "how long". I miss things and people and I am reluctant to just give in to missing them because I am terrified that once I slide down the slippery slope, I won't be able to claw my way back up. A global tour would go a long way toward helping that.

I completed the Elvis 5k at Graceland in nearly 100 degree heat. And, I did it in under an hour. Yes, I walked the entire race; something I am not used to, and something that I have a new respect for. As I started out, I was thinking, "Phffft, this isn't bad at all." Then I saw the 1 mile mark. ONE MILE??? I thought I was at least halfway through it. By the 2nd mile mark, my shins were screaming. I honestly wanted to take off running, just to get it over with quicker. But, I hung in there. And, I learned something along the way. I had always assumed that anything in South Memphis was seedy and blighted. The neighborhood around Graceland, off the main drag, was nice. Nice well kept, well landscaped homes that would have been right at home in High Point Terrace. And, some of the residents stood out in their yards and aimed their sprinklers and water hoses at us as we passed. Not in a "Get out of my neighborhood" kind of way, but in a "Wow, you look hot, here...have a spray" kind of way. On the last mile, they stood out in the yards and cheered, "You're almost there!". It was great! After the race, there was a smorgasboard of goodies, including but not limited to: Krispy Kreme donuts, beer, hot dogs, fruit, coke, coffee, and popcorn. And, I got a tee shirt.

I made a live television appearance on Sunday. It wasn't my first television appearance, but my first live one. I presented a big check during a telethon. I was so nervous, I thought I was literally going to pass out and die. When it was over and I was walking off stage, I then thought I would pass out and die from relief. As I stood backstage, my heart pounding in my head, chest, foot, I tried to remember the last time I felt so nervous. I couldn't. We were waiting for the band the finish up their number and I was so dismayed that, should I drop dead, I would die to "Play That Funky Music". I always thought it would be "Layla". I couldn't have my death played out in such a cheesy and sucky fashion, so I bucked up and basically disassociated. After I cleared the rickety stairs off the stage, I had the roller coaster moment. "Oh my God! This is so scary! I'm paralyzed with terror! Oh no, it's my turn! Oh God. I can't breathe. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Wow! That was fun! Can I go again?"

Emergency Chute and PA System

Most days, I would give just about anything for a PA system and an Emergency chute, a la Steve Slater. Mr. Slater, a former Jetblue flight attendant, reached his limit on Monday. You can read about it here:
http://blogs.wsj.com/metropolis/2010/08/09/fed-up-flight-attendant-pops-planes-emergency-chute-at-jfk-slides-away/
I feel this man's pain. Though I have never considered how beneficial props would be, I feel fairly certain that I could do some real damage with a PA system.

"Good afternoon, Bitches, and thanks again for choosing Jetblue. It has not been a pleasure to serve you today, as some of you got on my last fecking nerve. Let's give the passenger in seat 19D a round of applause, as he actually managed to knock the shoulder of every passenger in 18 rows with his large duffel; because after all, he really is the only one on the plane. The lady in the back, Ms. I Don't Know How to Modulate My Voice, we all hope you find your bracelet and we are all sorry that you didn't enjoy Cabo to it's fullest extent due to your stomach virus. Those passengers who did not opt for a shower before heading to the airport...being closed up in this tube with your funky asses for the last 90 minutes has been a little slice of heaven. Would the chic with all the Bohemian garb please stand up? Yes, you there, you boarded in Memphis dear; not Bali. What's with all the beads? As if your exposed armpits weren't bad enough, frankly, your feet should be enclosed in shoes; as they are a hot mess. To the passenger in seat 17F...thanks for jeopardizing all of our lives by lying when I asked you if you would be able to open the emergency exit. Quit playing, you couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag. You can't even breathe with your mouth closed. And finally, Jetblue wishes to extend a heartfelt Buh Bye to The Most Obnoxious Parents Ever. Your kids have snot running out they nose and you spent 5 minutes trying to negotiate their favorite purple drank from the beverage cart. Their screaming and whining only served to add to the ambience. Wherever it is that ya'll are going, please either stay there forever, or drive home. Now, I would like to take this opportunity to say Go To Hell you self indulgent pieces of shit. Most of you should not be allowed to fly the friendly skies, as ya'll have the manners of cloven hooved animals (and thanks to your blown out flip flops, I see you have the cloven hooves to match). They have Hertz for people like you and it won't do nearly as much damage to your maxed out Capital One as this ticket did.
Now, where is that damn Chute release button? Oh, there it is! Feck all of ya'll!"

And with that, I would slide my way to freedom and a book deal.

Liquor is Quicker

Wow, I was really burned out yesterday. I am really curious about the statistics of how many public service workers have drinking problems. I was all lathered up about the government dole yesterday, I came home and stewed, blogged, even squeezed out a couple of tears of frustration. Then, I went back to work. It's what I do. So, I am taking a break from doing in favor of getting the writing about doing back on track yesterday afternoon, when I had an epiphany.

I haven't been utilizing my interns properly. I have never had interns; therefore, I have no idea what their role is. But, now I know. They are there to do the grunt work. I am there to determine the need, not meet it. So, some changes are in order. I get the sense that I am the only one who didn't know, and I can't blame anyone but myself. I too have been guilty of not telling the new person all about the ways that us old timers are supposed to help her. That's my karma, I suppose.

After work, I went out and had margaritas and didn't discuss my frustration. Why bother. Anyone who knows me knows that I am still trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. Plus, I get tired of the flip responses of "So, just quit and do something else". Right. Anyway, I came home and watched the election results and then went to bed.

And that is when it got strange.

I dreamed that it was Labor Day Weekend. And there was some sort of neighborhood fest. The people across the street had a huge shindig. A UPS truck pulled up and I didn't answer the door (which is standard operating procedure). I spied the very cute driver letting himself into my home. He had a large box. He opened the box and began putting cans of coke into my fridge. Then, he washed up my dishes! So, that is what brown can do for me! I came into the kitchen to question this stranger. He was very non chalant and said that he was just helping me out a little. THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN, all these people streamed into my home and posted up in my dining room. It was the crowd from across the street. At least 15 people were now sitting in my home, looking at me all expectantly. UPS guy says that he would like to take me out for dinner; however, it looks like I am busy. Right about that time, I looked outside and was horrified to see all these broken down campers on my lawn, with what appeared to be carnie type folks malingering around them. The campers looked like they had been there for decades! I was trying to tell him that I had no idea who any of these people were, but it was too loud. I woke up MAD AS HELL.

So, today, I am going to give some thought to what the hell that's about. Oh, and do some social work too. It's what I do.