Grandma's Insulin is Under the Pillow. DON'T SIT ON IT!

I heard this line spoken angrily by someone a couple houses over to her son as he got in the car. Why the insulin was under the pillow in a car, I don't know. Why they didn't move it, I don't know. But it's a classic line. Scare me Dorothy. If it was me, I would have moved it faster than an Indian on a trampoline, but whatever.
I have had Quarterflash going through my head all damn day. Am I alone in thinking they were fucking awesome? I don't know if there was anything special about them, and I think they only had three albums, but the first one was so damn good. Rindy Ross had a voice that was just like butter, and I can still see her in my head on "Solid Gold", playing her sax like a motherfucker. Well, I guess I should be honest - I really only listen to about 6 or 7 songs combined from their first two albums: "Harden My Heart", "Find Another Fool", "Right Kind of Love", "Valerie", and whatever song came after that one, and then "Take me to Heart" and "Take Another Picture" from the second album. But those 6 or 7 songs are damn good. I wonder where they are. I think RIndy and her hubby were teachers before they were in the band, and I know someone from Portland who used to see them back in the day when they were called Seafood Mama or some such thing.
You know, I really miss Solid Gold - I wish they would show the reruns somewhere.
I don't have anything really to say tonight. I was just thinking of how strange it is when some people feel free to talk loudly and on and on, like they are famous or doing something important, or that the mundane things they say are especially interesting. Case in point. A couple weeks ago, or last week, or something, I was in Shoppers (or HOOPERS as my darling almost three year old calls it since she can't say her 's'es) with Brianne and I don't know, I was getting a prescription or something. So I am walking around and there is this sort of, I dunno how you describe it, trashy sorta woman with a small boy talking to some people. She's saying really loudly "I am just here getting a "scrip" for him. He has an ear infection." So I think "ooh, a 'scrip', hey?" and then she goes on, "yeah, it's the third time we've been to the Dr. in a week. They said it was viral but now it's turned into an infection. I wanted a scrip of Amoxicillan but they wanted to wait and see, so here we are now" to which her friends tsked tsked and stuff. So then she said she should go see if the scrip was almost ready and I kept walking thinking she was the most annoying woman who ever blew breath. It's people like her that are propogating the bacteria-resistant antibiotic problem we have. Well, later on I am near the check out buying some shit on the discount shelf, and the bitch's kid is all "A BABY!" and she's going "yes, look at that baby. She's a CHUBBY baby" and I am thinking "If you say like her daddy, I am going to pop you in your hillbilly nose", and she's talking and talking about Brianne and I am totally ignoring her. Well, then she says "Come on Kid, we'd better go pick up your scrip" and I mean, who in their right mind needs to say 'scrip' so much? And why? Does she think she sounds like some sort of doctor? Does she dress up in some godawful scrubs with kittens on them and walk around town, pretending she's a nurse? Does she wear ugly-ass nurse shoes full of Gold Bond to play the roll? Is she one of those people who gets off by having things wrong with them? "Scrip" - give me a frigging break. Does she have her husband bring her tylenol in a little paper cup? Is that how she gets her rocks off? I betcha.
The other person who annoyed me this week was this fucking (sorry for swearing so much) bitch ass motherfucker in IGA (sorry, I can't get used to saying Sobeys). Well, I am in there yesterday after work and I was in a hurry and I hear these kids freaking out and yelling and screaming and laughing at the top of their lungs, and everyone is staring, and I think "just block them out". Well, we are all thinking the mother person should shut them the hell up, because they are out of control, and she doesn't even raise her voice. Then, they get in line behind me, and the one kid starts pounding on my back, and I want to turn around and take my 2 litre bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper and smack both kids on the head with it and then ram it into mama's round gut. I don't, of course, but all I hear is her saying to them in a sing song voice "stop it or I won't go get you a special treat after this!" and I mean, those fuckers deserved a couple nights in Leavenworth instead of a frigging treat. And she just ignores them, and she must work there because she's yelling out a hello to all the workers who pass her and look embarassed to be associated with the woman with the freaked out kids.
SOrry - I am distracted by the video for "Election Day" by Arcadia - I am sorry, but how was that "band" any different from Duran Duran? Now Addicted to Love is on, and I wonder what happened to those chicks and how old they are now. Robert Palmer is now dead, did you all know that? I really liked the song "Johnny and Mary".
Ok, an update on my new niece before I go to bed. My sister has exchanged emails with her the past few days, and it's just so cool I can't even describe it. I can't calm down. It's all I think about. They are just emailing basic, light stuff back and forth, telling about their lives and such. Well, I am dying to email her too but don't worry, I won't. It's my sister's experience and I am not going to butt in and say "oh hey, I'm here too!", at least not for a long while, but I am just dying to say hey to her. I think because maybe I was so young when she was born - 11 - that it was such an important event in my life, and was such a traumatic time for us and so sad to miss out on all of that, and since I've been weepy like a little girl all week, it just sort of shows how I too have been carrying around all of this sadness and emptiness for 25 years too. OH, HOLY SHIT, BEFORE I FORGET - this is the freakiest fucking thing EVER. So my sister runs to my mom and dad's yesterday to show them the picture of her, and they are talking, and my dad is telling her (because he's so forgetful) that he sort of almost forgot about the whole thing but that he remembers so well when she was in the hospital and this nurse told him that a guy came to see my sister and she kicked him out, and asked her if a guy did come see her. She said yeah, the baby's father, and my dad said "I want you to know I never told them to not let him in. I never told them that, I swear to you" which got them to talking about this particular nurse and what a bitch she was, to which my mom pipes up "Yes, she was a bitch. I tried to come in to you but she wouldn't let me because it was 10 after and wasn't visiting hours." So my sister, who I said in my post in April has always had this chip on her shoulder because my mom never came to her when she was in labor, finds out that she has been thinking for TWENTY-FIVE YEARS that her mother rejected her, when she really wasn't allowed in by this nurse. So she calls me at work to tell me this yesterday and I am speechless. It is like some strange thing out of an Oprah book club selection that I would scoff at as not plausible. I can't take anymore excitement.
Oh, speaking of the big O, one mention before I go to bed. Last night (we get the Queen at all fucking hours of the day here, including 11 at night), we are flipping around and the Opsterino had on Faith Hill (who sort of annoys me now in her own right), who was belting out some song or other, and fucking Oprah keeps being shown singing along and crying. And it got me thinking "Why, oh why, whenever anyone is on singing, they have to show Oprah swingin to the music and lip synching the song? It's awkward and stupid and frankly makes me uncomfortable because she looks like such a moron. You know how when someone has some really strange deformity that throws you for a loop and you get weirded out by seeing it, and even more weirded out because you actually ARE weirded out by it, making you realize that you aren't as evolved as you pretend you are? Well, it's like that when she's singing, because she looks like a moron, plain and simple. Can you imagine if they showed Letterman or something rocking out? So, Oprah, give it a rest, ok?
Oh, and Britney was on for an hour on Dateline last night with Matt Lauer. Well, I am sorry, but her proclamations of her love for K-fed are as phony as Tom Cruise and his woman. I dont think K-Fed is gay, like Tom-fucking-I-AM-GAY-AND-I-AM-FUCKING-JOHN-TRAVOLTA-UP-THE-ASS-IN-HIS-AIRPLANE-WHILE-HE-CHANTS-FROM-DIANETICS-Cruise, but that thing isn't real anymore because she wasn't genuine when she was talking about him. You know, I actually like Britney sort of, when she doesn't come across as so hillbilly, but my wife kept saying I was judgemental and asked why I hated her so much because I was snickering through the whole thing, so now I think I may be a mean, shallow person. So that bothers me. I actually don't mind her, and would rather listen to her than those other teen bitches. But it was funny at one point, because the last interview we saw of her a couple years ago, she was talking and shit, about her breakup with whats his name, Lance Bass - no - the other one - Timberlake, and she suddenly gets this weird smile on her face, turns sideways in her seat and says "HELLO!" and then bursts into tears and they stop the cameras. It was so strange it was funny along the lines of Liz Taylor at the Golden Globes. So last night, she is talking about either motherhood or her marriage, and suddenly her voice goes really low, like she was supressing some killer, 5 sentence burp or something. So Rachel is like "is she channeling someone" and it was so funny. You had ot be here.
Big Brother next week, don't miss it.
And one more thing - just saw a Cars video, and you know, Ben Orr was the better singer than Ric Otcasik or however his fucking name is spelled - that ain't it. Ocassik? Whatever. Ben was better. I even had his solo album which had two AWESOME timeless tracks, "Stay the Night" and "Too Hot To Stop". He actually played the casino in North Battleford a couple years ago on New Years, and then he died shortly after. Too soon. Too soon. But he was the better singer. I used to get mad regarding the singers from Styx when they had their solo careers. I sort of hate Styx, except for Renegade, and when Dennis DeYoung had a solo album and top 10 hit with Desert Moon I could have puked because I hated that song. And then Tommy Shaw had a solo album with Girls with Guns, and the title track was so good it should have been a huge hit, but it wasn't. So I dedicate this post to you, Tommy Shaw, and the memory of Ben Orr. Long may you run, buddies. And let's throw in Honeymoon Suite in there too, because "What does it take" is on right now, and that was a good song, and I fucking LOVE "Feel it Again". But this singer sure had a fat face. He's probably fatter than me right now. And they all had ugly-ass hair.
So, that's tonight's free association. I better go because there is a Fixx video on right now, and I love the Fixx, and I don't want to ramble on about them for 20 minutes, so I will leave you now, broken hearted...
The Golden Globes are Over now, Y'all, Y'all, Y'all! HELLLLOOOO!

Crazy week and it's only wednesday...

Oh, the week it has been.... I can't take much more, lemme tell ya. So Monday starts off with me being so physically tired at work, I honestly feel like pulling a George and making a secret bed under my desk and sleeping the day away, I was that tired. I kept thinking that there had to be some way to rest. I just felt like a complete sack of shit. Of course, I didn't think of going home - no, that would have been too simple. Instead, I just sat there like a lump, willing people not to come see me or phone me. I was so tired that at one point, I had this woman come see me, and I am answering the 3 million questions she had, and I started feeling lightheaded and panicky - that "I am so tired I feel lightheaded and thus I am going to have a panic attack and vomit or faint" feeling. So, I break out in this hot sweat and am trying to talk to this woman like a normal human being, all the while trying to send her telepathic messages saying "get the hell out of here before I faint on your sad ass, honey." So, after that traumatic experience, I think I've had enough drama for the day. Wrong. Rachel calls me at says she noticed that Brianne's little boobie is swollen. Of course, I just say it's gotta be nothing, just the usual thing breastfed babies get sometimes, but she said it was a little lump. So, I make her an appointment for her 6 month check up for Tuesday, but that afternoon, Rach thought she'd feel better if she got it looked at that day and so she took her to the walk-in clinic. Well, she comes by my work after and says the doctor said it seemed odd and that she should see a pediatrician, who would probably give her an ultrasound. So, needless to say, we get worried and spend hours on the internet looking up infant breast lumps. Oh, and let me say before this, she called the health line, that's staffed by nurses, and this fucking nurse bitch says "oh, kid's can get breast cancer". So, the research we do says only 0.1% of breast cancer is in kids and it's almost virtually unheard of, but since this stupid bitch-ass nurse said that, and the fucking south African walk-in guy obviously has never seen a frigging a child before, well, we didn't know what to think. So we take her to her doctor appointment yesterday and our doctor who I trust with my life just says it's nothing, just the normal boobie thing we thought it was in the first place, and told us to cancel the pediatrician appointment when they call. So that made our day. Then this morning, the fucking walk-in calls at 7:45 and says we have an appointment at 9 with the pediatrician and so we actually took her just to be sure. So this guy just feels her and says it's totally fine and nothing to worry about and again, it's what we originally thought it was. So, this leaves me to bitch one more time about the quality of doctors at the walk-in clinics. In this town, they are all populated with south african doctors who are about 13 years old and I don't know why they come here - it's like they are doing time or something. Anyway, they always creep me out and always give fucked up advice. Each time I go to the walk-in by my house, I seem to get the same woman who always tells me "Oh! There is this great drug for (insert problem) and writes me a prescription, and it always turns out to be something like fucking tylenol or something I can just buy. So anyway, I am not a racist, but the quality of these doctors is lacking.
So, after the appointment yesterday, we go to Wendy's for a fucking gong-show of a drive thru experience, which I won't go into, but it was so frigging funny I thought I was on t.v. And then, we go to my sister's house for cake for my mom's 71st birthday. I was completely dreading this, because my parents have been so fucking mental. Literally mental. Oh fuck, this post will never be finished tonight, because there is so much drama to catch up on and I have to get to bed. Ok, so since I won't get it done, I will stop AFTER I explain about my parents. Remember when I said before that my dad is starting to lose it? Well, he was doing better, but then he was being totally fucking mental, is the only way I can put it and I don't know if it's just the early Alzheimers, or if he's just depressed and OCD or what, but it's been a frigging ride lately. So, ever since he started going downhill, he's been bitching to us kids about our mom and how she's so different and so cold and calls him on everything when he repeats himself, and says she's being a bitch and on and on, and you know, she DOES call him on everything and whatever so we just sort of paid it no mind, but then he was getting so frigging weird and saying he wanted to just leave and all this shit, and he called my sister one day like 4 times and just bitched and went on about how sick he was of it, and started talking about their sex life, and I mean, it was just mental. So, my other sister went to the doctor and since our mother is a fucking head case in her own right, and hasn't been to a doctor in 30 years, and who has probably needed meds for that long, she got some antidepressants for her and she's actually taking them. So there is hope for the old bird yet, I guess. But my mother who never speaks of anything unpleasant and is a freak that way, just opened up to my sister and told her she was depressed and it was like living with a different man because dad is so different and on and on. So, since I haven't like seen my parents for like a month and was quite content in avoiding them, I was dreading last night. But my mom seems so good now and dad was with it and funny and it was just such a relief. But that wasn't the excitement.
I walk into my sister's house and my other sister says "you have ANOTHER niece named Kelly!" and I am all "I don't have a niece named Kelly - I have a daughter named Kelly" and then it clicked - remember my post in April about my sister giving her baby up? Well, 25 years later, they found each other. They have emailed back and forth today, and I have a picture of her, which is identical to my sister 20 years ago. And I've been an emotional wreck today. I keep going to the website where they found each other and the owner of the site has a scrolling "located and congratulations" by my sister's daughter's birth information, and I kept that fucking thing open the whole day at work. Even though this isn't my experience or my child and isn't about me, I didn't realize how this has affected my life. If you read the original post (Too lazy to link it here, but it was in April 2006 and was called something about crocuses to bring to school or something), my dysfunctional family handled the whole thing so wrong, and I've felt so traumatized and empty because of it. It was such a sad time and I really feel the loss today. And I am so grateful this girl had such a good home and wonderful family and experienced all that she has. I am sitting on my fingers trying NOT to email her, but I can't wait to. So I've had many a bawling fit today, and tomorrow probably won't be much better.
I am so glad she had, as Joni said, a happy ending. And she's beautiful.
So that's my week - hope yours is not as eventful!
xo
JT

bob greene, come and get my fat ass with the program

Well, just have to say that I really was going to start dieting again today, as I've gained at least 10 lbs from the looks of my big fat gut. I had the best intentions, but we took the kids for a swim this morning and didn't eat, so they wanted a bagel from Tim's on the way home, so I ended up getting one of those breakfast sandwiches which was so good it was almost orgasmic - I was ready to yell "fuck yeah!" (Sharon and I worked with this woman who coincidentally lived right above Sharon's apartment in University (they didn't really know each other then) and her and her now husband would have wild sex all night, and they are both really nerdy, and he would always yell "fuck yeah!" so that's our big saying).
So I ate that thing and then probably, I am not making this up, 20 Tim Bits. So it's not on today. But I had good intentions.
Anyway, going to finish watching some Facts of Life - it's the old ones with all those girls they got rid of after the first season - Molly Ringwald was so annoying in these. I am going to watch the one where they all buy bongs.
Happy fat Saturday,
xo

My Heart's on fire, for Delilah (my mom's joke of singing "delilah" to the tune of "elvira"

I met Delilah when I was in the middle of grade five, I guess. She came in the middle of the year to our split grade room - she was in grade six. I remember looking up with interest at the new student standing at the door when our principal brought her in - his name was Mr. Dyck, and as he just passed a few months ago, I will not make any cracks about the name or about him.
So Delilah came into the room all gussied up like a young Marilu Retton or some such woman - her hair had that sort of Donna Pescow flip to it, although she was no Donna Pescow (my 11 year old self had a thing for Donna Pescow, first in Saturday Night Live, and then again in the t.v. show "Angie", starring herself and Doris Roberts, and the theme was sung by that chick who sang "The Morning After" from the Posiden Adventure - what the hell was her name?? The song went "love is good, love is kind, love is something-or-other...love is BLAHHHH....." ok, I don't remember the name of the Angie Theme but I do know it was a top 10 hit back in the day.....
Anyway, back to Delilah. I looked up and saw this gussied up chick in a dress and with flippy hair and probably thought "nerd" and went back to my own nerd friends (I always wanted to be the outlaw rebel but it wasn't going to happen). So I don't rightly know how I ever got to know Delilah. Our school, being in B.C., never let us stay in for recess, and as it pissed down rain every fucking day of the winter, we would all sort of huddle in this covered area at recess and play hockey cards, marbles, and hopscotch (I shit you not - nobody wanted to get that wet). So I remember me and this kid Randy somehow killing 10 minutes with Delilah playing hopscotch, and let me say, bitch was good, really she was. So somehow, Delilah and I ended up hanging out after school hours and playing hopscotch - oh man, that sounds so gay, doesn't it? But anyway, we became really good friends and I sort of ditched my other friends, which made my two best friends Scotty and Ruby pretty jealous. Well, fuck them, I thought, because they always ditched me when they felt like it, so piss on them. Anyway, I had this little crush on Delilah, and she had one on me. We spent every day after school together until suppertime, playing hopscotch - I remember her marker was this old dried up black banana peel she called Old Liver Lips. Ah, good times.
So, we became sort of an item - she had a birthday party and I remember we slow danced. It wasn't much of a romance, since she was 12 and I was 11, but I think she would have been the first girl I french kissed, and, if you want the real racy details, and were the first real boobies I touched. But it was kid's stuff, you know? And of course, in the end, we all traded girlfriends and stuff, so it wasn't like we were eloping. But it was one of those "Wonder Years" kind of things.
But the real interesting thing about her was her family. Picture this. I am from this dysfunctional but on the surface normal family, with my dad being in charge of the police force in town, and yada yada. Delilah's family was like nothing I had ever seen. You know the crazy shrink's family in "Running With Scissors" (if you read this blog and haven't yet read Augusten Burroughs yet, well, shame, shame, shame on you)? Well, her family was sort of like that to me. Except they scared the shit out of me. First, Delilah's parents were the first couple I had met up to that point that had a gaggle of kids but weren't married. She had a half brother Billy from her mom that lived up north somewhere, and then there was her 17 year old sister Barbie, and her 16 year old brother Nicky J.R., and then her 14 year old sister Mona Lisa, and then her, and then her 9 year old brother 'Taters. Well, his real name was Valentino, but he loved potatoes so much as a child that he used to say "gimme more 'paters" because he couldn't say taters, and so they called him 'Taters and Paters, and even at school, he was registered as 'Taters. So yeah, they were an interesting lot.
Her mother had long wild hair, and wore lots of black eyeliner, sort of like a biker bitch. Her Dad had about 4 teeth, looked like he was the father of someone in AC/DC, and scared the living shit out of me. In addition to not being married, her parents had the distinct noteriety of not being gainfully employed. I mean, they had money coming in, but it wasn't on the up and up. I remember saying "so, what does your dad do?" and she replied "oh, he's in liqour distribution" which translated to "Daddy is a bootlegger." So that made it very interesting to say the least.
They lived in my neighborhood, a couple blocks away from me, in this house that I thought was really big, but when I went back a few years ago and drove by, was really a little shack (I took a picture I should find and post). The house consisted of a porch, a small living room with the parent's bedroom off of it, a kitchen with another bedroom and the bathroom off of it, a back porch with a washing machine and a staircase, which led to this attic type of room that was a small bedroom with another small room out of it. And they all lived in this place.
Since I always wanted to be accepted by the "bad" kids, I thought this was too cool. First, Barb's boyfriend Rick lived with them too, and slept with 17 year old Barbie and nobody blinked an eye. Mona Lisa, who was 14 when I met her, was also 8 1/2 months pregnant, and her NINETEEN year old boyfriend, Viggo, lived with them too, and schtumpted his pregnant child girlfriend too, with nobody batting an eye. So picture it - upstairs in the attic dungeon, in the main room, were two beds - one for Rick and Barbie, and one for Delilah. The room off of there was for Mona and Viggo and the new baby. So imagine poor 12 year old Delilah lying there at night, with both her sisters fucking themselves silly in the same space as her.... it's fucking twisted, and really sad. She was always in the know when it came to sex questions. I remember when we were all down at the slough one day smoking, this guy watched us, then undressed, went swimming in this gross slough water, and jerked off with a J-Cloth (still don't quite understand the why and how with that one) and then left, to which we yelled and taunted him from a distance (and we are so lucky he didn't kill us or whatever, the frigging pervert). So anyway, Delilah went down and looked at the cloth and said "oh, there's sperm on there, I know because I've seen it on Barbie's sheets". Oh, that's so sad, isn't it?
Anyway, back to the family. Nicky, being a boy, had the room off the kitchen, and I guess Taters must have shared it, because I know it was their room, but I don't know if Taters had a bed or shared it with Nicky. Nicky was always going on about how hot his waterbed was and how he was going to get it ever hotter, and he was always frigging naked, but Taters and I would just keep on playing on the floor and not notice him. I don't think he meant anything by it, but I guess when you live in cramped quarters, you don't care who is in your room when you feel like doing body builder poses in the mirror.
Mama and Papa had the room off of the living room, and daddy would lock himself up in there and play his guitar and sing Night Moves. I would always tell him he sounded just like Bob Seger to stay on his good side, but when he was locked in there drinking, you stayed the hell away.
I was so freaked out by the whole family, because the kids swore like sailors, and everybody smoked. Well, Delilah and Taters didn't swear prolifically, because I think you had to be 13 in their house before you could say fuck and shit, but they could say hell, damn, and all the God curses. Also, Delilah couldn't smoke in front of her parents just yet, but her siblings didn't care, so we would spark up when it was just the kids.
And they were so frigging rude on the phone. You'd phone and they'd say hello, and I'd say "Is Delilah home" to which they would throw down the phone and yell "DELILAH!" or they would say "NO" and hang up. So, codependent me, I was always afraid my mom would call there looking for me and they'd be rude and I wouldn't be allowed to go back there.
They also used their spider plants for ashtrays more often than not, or would rub the ashes on their jeans, because ashes supposedly would fade the jeans and look cool.
They were also pot people, meaning that daddy smoked, and the teens smoked, but Delilah was quite proud that her mom didn't - she said her mom tried it one night and choked and said "Keep that shit away from me" and that was it. So, I believed that for years, until my sister Leslie told me that she and her friend Wilma would go over there in the mornings and get higher than fucking kites with Delilah's mom (Wilma ended up dating Nicky Jr. for a couple years). Oh yeah, my sister Leslie, who ran with the wrong crowd, hung out with Barbie a bit.
So, with all this shit, me and my friend Ruby thought it was really cool, and were there all the time. Of course, since they were so "bad", I was always amazed at the mundane things. Like, for example, it was at their place that I had my first poached egg. Delilah and I were working on some stupid school project on Japan, and someone made up poached eggs on toast. I remember being suprised that they knew how to cook eggs, or that they'd have eggs, and to make it even more exotic, they had brown eggs, which I'd never seen. So I remember going home and telling my mom she had to find these frigging brown eggs because they were the cat's ass, and she had to learn how to poach eggs, and she was like "I can poach a frigging egg, do you think I'm simple?"
I also remember Mona frying a chicken for supper and being suprised that they actually made chicken and such - I don't know, I must have thought they'd just eat bread and crack or something, but I can still see Mona flouring this chicken and peeling potatoes. But since they were so "street" to me, everything was a suprise, especially when they were normal.
I saw more than any 11 year old should see from them. I remember when Billy's girlfriend Tam came down to town - she'd had a baby, but decided to put it up for adoption ,so she had this week old baby and was giving it up the next day or something. She was staying in the seediest motel in town, where literally all these crazy heroin addicts lived, but Delilah and I rode our bikes down there and visited her - drank tea out of ceramic mugs that probably contained lead, and smoked Viscount Menthol cigarettes that we found somewhere. The place was so frigging disgusting, a real flophouse, but it was an adventure, and I think I glamourized it.
We also visited these old drunks who lived in this shitty-ass rathole on top of a business across from Woolworth's. This old broad and her man were probably in their 50s but looked 100, and we went there because we could smoke, and she was a customer of Daddy. She kept drinking some moonshine shit she had in a vinegar bottle and set Delilah up with a job picking worms for 10 cents a worm for someone she knew.
As time went on, Delilah's dad became a dope dealer too, so that was interesting. He was such a slime. Leslie told me how he always wanted her and Wilma to pose for him naked on his bear-skin rug.
It was from them that I smoked dope for the first time. Delilah stole a roach from her dad and brought it over - her and Ruby smoked one one time before - and so we all went into the shed off our carport one night and smoked the frigging thing. Remember, my dad was a cop, and you know how dope smells. Well, we smoked this little thing and I didn't really feel anything but my eyes got so red and my sister Lois said when we got in (I made tea for all of us, so maybe I WAS high) that my eyes were so red that I had to quit smoking, and we all laughed. Delilah also left me another roach, which I smoked with Scotty a week later, but that's another story.
Anyway, I thought they were the cat's ass. But you know what? I am so glad my dad got transferred in retrospect, because even though I endured two or three of the worst years of my life following that, and I mean terrible fucking years of loneliness, I wonder what would have happened to me if I had stayed. You see, the scene around Delilah's house got worse and worse. My best friend Ruby, who was my neighbor and friend since I was 4, had nobody to turn to, so she hung out with Delilah and her family all the time and ended up dropping out of school in grade nine - I don't think Delilah made it that far - Also, Nick Sr. would smoke dope with them all the time, and I mean, that's so sick. Everyone I knew pretty much went through a wasted teen years thing, and if I would have stayed, I'd probably be a crackhead right now.My sister said it was so sick, because Mona had her baby, of course, and when the kid was probably not even two, they'd think it wa so funny to say "come on Sally, pass the joint to uncle Ricky!" I fucking shudder thinking about that poor kid.
So, what happened to them all? I don't know. I knew when I was 16 that Delilah was shacked up and had a baby at 16, and someone said the mom went to jail for something. Nobody has any idea what happened to the rest of them. However, Delilah got out and straightened out (well, partly - read on) her life - she quit drugs, had something like 5 sons, and married her teen sweetheart. I guess she's the sweetest person and really straightened out, but apparently, she likes the ladies, and her husband is ok with it, so they have these 3somes and such, but he's fine with it, and she loves her husband as a soulmate, but likes the ladies. It works for them I suppose, and they have become grandparents apparently as well.
I wonder what happened to the rest of them?
So, I don't know why I felt like telling that story, but I am so glad that I didnt live that life, and I really feel for all of them because what a shitty fucking environment. And you know, good for Delilah for making it out of there - I just hope the rest did too somehow.
And while I romanticized their life as a kid, I was always so happy to come home to my Snoopy books and my loving family and my Sunday school class (because I was also born again at that time, which I will tell later).
So, have a nice weekend all.
xo
JT

scare me dorothy!

Two posts from me in one night - you lucky little buggers! This really will be quick. I just have to share the delightful email I received in my inbox today. It really DOES just say it all. Read on:

I moved too orange county in 77 because it was lucky and because Orange is your favorite color. Becauase it is no color at all. It is a time color:better colon that one, : It is the blending of yellow, caution; and Red, Kickass. So it is time blending colors. When you use it You fell Arragant Because it only mixes well with Purlpe and Light Blue. But I know about those Colors too. Those are your colors first, I know, But you did Haloween. Twoo LLs LowlHoot. Scared?
Scare Me Dorothy
Theodore J lytle
Quickly

Wow, my new friend Theodore really said it all, didn't he? Because, this is EXACTLY why I've always wanted to move to the OC. It's all about time blending colors, really, to the nth degree. Kickass red... ah, that fiery demon! Don't get me started on purple and light blue....
SCARE ME DOROTHY INDEED!
AMEN, BROTHER-FRIEND!

So, as you can tell, "Scare me Dorothy" is going to be my new saying forevermore. It will be my new "slap my ass and call me Judy."

I just had to share that tidbit with y'all. I should get to sleep, as it is late and a full day at the garage sale tomorrow. I have tomorrow and Monday off, too, so yee-haw! Scare me Dorothy! Scare me motherfucking Dorothy indeed!
One more thing: Just got out of the shower and for some reason, en route from the bathroom to the bedroom (as I find our en suite shower too clausterphobic) I think "oh, turn the dishwasher on" so I toddle into the kitchen and and bending over putting Cascade into the machine, and I realize that the living room blinds are open, and you can see straight into the kitchen, indeed, right to the spot where the dishwasher is, from the road. So I am buck naked, bent over the dishwasher, ass and balls proudly swaying in the kitchen light. I think I am going to have to move.
On that frightening note, I must go give a baby a soother and get to bed.
lator gators,
JT

Message to my favorite anonymous scumbag

Dear Person who stole three solar lights from my front yard:
I sincerely hope that, indeed, the prostate gland really is the male g-spot, because if I find you, and you are indeed a man, I plan on retrieving my three solar lights and shoving them up your thievish ass until said gland is impaled and hence for the rest of your life, your bodily fluids that spew forth from your nether regions will be solar powered and have a goulish glow that will forever reveal all of your dirty little secrets. So, I hope you are enjoying them now, as well as your non-glowing ejaculations. Of course, we could just impale you with the lights, but that would be too easy.
So, once again, enjoy!
Your friend and future proctologist,
JT