Still Kicking In Washington

Staplers are dangerous. Who knew?

2008-08-10T01:48:00.006-05:00

Well...Washington seems to be a lot safer place than Georgia. Which is great, except that might be detrimental to this blog. But then again...I am Erin. And Jamie pointed out a few post back that I don't mix well with staples. So I thought I would take you on a little trip back to my childhood. Where I was rather dangerous to myself.

Actually, let's start by going back only a few years. I was in college and I brought Jamie home for Thanksgiving break because she lived too far away to go to her own home. Or her parents didn't love her, your pick. So let's set the scene: Jamie, Mom, I, and a few other unimportant people for this story were in the kitchen. And Mom was being a mom and telling Jamie and everyone about what a perfect and angelic child I was. (Hey, my story, my rendition of how it went down.)

Anyway, Mom made a comment about how we would try to talk while being in a different room. This was a HUGE pet peeve of Mom's. If you wanted to talk to her you had better be in the same room as her. None of this "MOM! Come here!" shit. No, not at all.

Which lead me to a story of my own. I was around 5 years old...let's say 4 1/2 so I don't seem so stupid. I was upstairs playing with the stapler. I don't know why. I could say it was because I never had any toys. But let's face it, Mom bought me more Barbies and Barbie crap than I could ever want. So like...one...

Anyway, I was playing with the stapler upstairs in the hallway when all of a sudden...clunk...o. There I was...there was the wooden railing...there was my little finger...and there was a staple through my little finger and railing. Huh...who could have seen that coming? It hurt, I won't lie. I was a little more baffled than injured. I was surprised that a staple would actually go through my finger. But apparently it would.

I tugged at it a little and realized that I was stuck. I mean really stuck. I thought about gnawing off my finger to get free. But let's face it, I was 4 and at that age everyone is a picky eater. So I took a deep breath and yelled "MOOOMMMM!" To which I got the standard reply, "If you want to talk to me, come in here!" from the kitchen. Great, the one thing I couldn't do. I yelled some more things like "I can't" and "Come help me." But I knew I was on my own. No mom to come save me.

So I studied my situation and I slowly and painfully pulled the staple out of the railing and then out of my finger. It hurt, a lot. I imagine that that must have been what it felt like to pull a bullet out of your shoulder. (Yes, I watched Miami Vic with my Dad.) So there I was free. I thought about running down to my Mom and telling how much I was in danger and she didn't come. And then it dawned on me. I stapled myself to the railing. I mean even at 3 1/3 I knew how stupid that was. So if I went to put the guilt trip on Mom I would also have to admit to the dumb thing I did. Who staples herself to the railing? I mean really? So I put the stapler down, cleaned the blood off the railing, hid all other evidence, and picked up a stupid doll. Hmmm...could I staple Barbie to the railing and blame my older brothers? That might be fun...but I better not play with the stapler anymore.

So once I finished telling the story, my wonderful Mother, who stood in the kitchen listening and making Thanksgiving dinner said, "I don't remember you stapling your finger to the railing." To which I quickly replied, "Well no! You wouldn't come help me no matter how loud I screamed!" And she replied back, "Well you know how I feel about you kids yelling at me from the other rooms." Jamie was overly amused.

Car Crash, Take 2

2008-08-06T20:25:00.000-05:00

First of all I would like to apologize for my previous post. I was hoped up on NyQuil and barely remember even sitting down to write it. But its part of the blog now so...

Ok, now that that's over, I said I would tell you about my car crash. It had been a while since it happened, but I was just so baffled by my "luck" that I didn't run to blog about it. You see I had been in Seattle for about 2 -3 weeks and I already had been to the Toyota Dealership too many time.

First, I went there to get my oil changed. As you can imagine driving across the country takes it out on a car. Then I got in the mail a recall. O yes, I drove across the country only to get a forward recall on my car in the mail. How awesome is that? Then I had to get new plates for my car and I didn't have any holes in the front of my car to put the plates on. Well, I figured what was one more trip to the dealership. I mean I was starting to think I should get a little pop-up tent and move in there.

Anyway, I was driving to the dealership, a route I knew well, when I came to this intersection. It was a busy intersection and I could see the cars in front of me slowing down on the other side of the intersection. I figured I better slow down and stop before I got into the middle of the intersection or I would be stuck in the middle with a red light. So I stopped...but the car behind me didn't.

WACK

OMG!

It happened again! What!? Do I have a big ass bumper stick on my car that has a target and says "Hit me I love dealing with my insurance agent!" So I just sat there at the light. Imagining all the bends and breaks that could be in my poor little car's bumper. And I was thinking of how I was going to have to deal with another person's crazy idea on how this accident was somehow my fault.

Then the guy that hit me got out of his car and walked up to my window. I hesitated and rolled down the window. The guy said "I'm SO SO SORRY!" Well that was unexpected...my poor car, do I even want to see how bad it was? They guy told me to pull into the next driveway so we could sort things out.

I was really worried. I mean it was bad enough to get in an accident, but I just got this car AND I was in a new city. I had no idea how to get around, I didn't know where I could get a new car, I didn't even have a clue of who I could call if I needed to be picked up.

When I pulled in I finally got the courage to look at my bumper. I got out of my car and the guy was in my face telling me how sorry he was, how he spilled something on himself. He looked down and when he looked up it was too late. Thanks a LOT Starbucks. I must admit I was about to laugh at him. He just kept apologizing. It didn't make sense. Didn't he know he wasn't supposed to admit guilt even if it was completely obvious.

But anyway, I got to the back of my car and there was no damage. I was surprised how hard he hit me that there was no damage. He gave me his card and told me that the address was old and the email didn't work. All very comforting. But I went on my way and had the dealership check it out. No damage they said. Which was great. But then they did a number on my front bumper putting my plates on. My poor car.

Just a Thought: My Hair

2008-07-26T03:03:00.005-05:00

So I was thinking today and decided to share. Not a normal post but hey...I own the blog...I can change the rules if I want. If you don't like it...well you can just...read more. And comment! That'll show me. For sure.

Anyway, my hair. If you know me, you know this is a ongoing trial in my life. I have hair. I always have had hair. Born with a full head of big bushy black hair. Looked like a little baby Einstein. I swear. Now that I am older I have full head of thin, "baby-fine," blond hair. Yah, I don't know what happened. Anyway, what do you do with a head of hair like that? A bob...that's it. Anything less looks like I am bald and just took a yellow crayon to my scalp. And hairdressers have no idea what to do with me. Some suggest a perm is what to go...some say a perm would make it worse...Some suggest I shave it all off and let it grow back thicker. Except they don't realize I have 2 older brothers. Too many dents in the old noggin to be sporting the bald look.

Anyway, I also shed constantly! I don't know where all this hair is coming from. My roommate used to say that it was like living with a cat. And she would accuse me of trying to put all my hair in the sink. I swear I don't try. It just happens. I thought about gluing it back to my head...but I never was that good with the Elmers.

So since my move I think I have been shedding more and more. I am starting to get annoyed with my shedding. Which takes a lot. I mean how annoying do you have to be when you don't even want to live with yourself. At last, I am stuck with me.

So this all really related to me brushing my teeth. Don't even get me started on my teeth. But anywho, you ever be brushing your teeth and have a hair stuck in your toothbrush. And you feel it as you move the brush back and forth. So at that point one of two things happen. You, one, take the brush out and have to pull this hair off your toothbrush. Which is always pleasant. Or two, take the brush out and realize the hair is still in your mouth. Now you have to pull the long strand out of your mouth. And of course it is full of drool and toothpaste. What could be better? And of course it is 3x longer then your longest strand of hair on your head. And you feel like you just joined the circus pulling a sword or something out of your mouth. And then what do you do with it?

Well I decided that that was enough. I have decided to choose to believe that the hair is a good thing while I brush. It is actually like doing two tasks at once. If I leave the hair alone while I brush it is like flossing while I brush....right? I mean really what is the difference? I just pretend I went organic...save the whales and all that crap...and use my hair as floss. And you can image the time it saves me. So that is all cool right? I mean my logic is sound...well, it was just a thought.

Super Fly's cousin

2008-07-12T14:16:00.005-05:00

Seattle has been treating me pretty good. Nothing too exciting. I did get in a car accident but we'll talk about that later. Yesterday I just decided to stay inside and relax. You know...one of those days where you hang out in your pjs all day and watch tv. So I was off to a good start. I was chatting online watching tv when I felt this itchy feeling on my foot. I looked down there was this bug on my foot. The thing was over an inch long with a billion little legs. This huge black and yellow thing was trying to gnaw my foot off. And now my neighbors knew it, too.

I flipped the bug off and then I grabbed the first paper thing in my hand (my bank statement envelop). I smacked the paper on top of the bug and did the universal squishing motion to kill it. Then I tossed the trash can on top of it just to be safe.

There is a evil bug under here. Stand back.

So like any very emotional girl I left the bug under the bucket and got online to ask my guy friends to come and take care of it. They all said no. Apparently I am not worth the flight from Iowa to Seattle. Losers. So I was stuck dealing with it myself or redecorating so that the trash can looked good sitting in the middle of the room.

Well I pulled off the can and lifted the paper and O MY GOD the thing was still moving. Moving towards me at a rapid rate! I tossed the paper back on it and showed the little bugger what I got for 6 years of engineering school.

Did someone wanted to play Erin's version of the Princess and the Pea?

I figured that would kill me so it should kill the bug. I pushed down on the books and went back to my chatting for a while. Then I decided I should clean up. But who wants to clean up bug guts? :P So I start to unpack and once I get to the bottom of my pile of knowledge I hear this noise. It started to get louder. And I realized it was coming from under my envelope. Are you kidding me!? I couldn't believe it; there is no way this thing is still alive.

Someone else look; I can't do it.

So I mustered up the guts to look under the paper. The bug was there, alive, buzzing and moving around. That's it! Its not the first time I have killed a bug and I don't know why this one won't die. So I pulled out the big guns or rather my hammer. I put down a paper towel and went to town on that bugs little ass. I'm sure my neighbor below me loves me now. But I got the little bugger...I think.

Bug, meet Mr. Hammer.

Mr. Hammer, meet BugBug, your new home, the toilet.

And then it was done. Well, the bug was dead but I think I need to go though therapy. Last night I didn't sleep a wink. Every time I felt something I thought it was a bug. I woke up with my pj bottoms on backwards. Don't ask. Its better to let it die in the past.

Act now and get your own Erin Bug Killing Kit

in the mail for only $2000 plus shipping and Handling!

Tour de Sleepy Sheepy Resort

2008-06-15T18:40:00.002-05:00

I made a video of the Sheepy Sleepy Resort. If you didn't get a link to the video and want one let me know and I'll send it to you. Comments on the video are always welcome. :) Enjoy!

Fruit Change

2008-06-08T14:14:00.004-05:00

Click to enlarge

Sheepy in Seattle

2008-06-04T22:38:00.002-05:00

Jesse, Chris, and DJ at the Space Needle.

Just so everyone knows, I didn't die. I got a job and move out to Redmond, Washington. Which is the east side of Seattle. We all like it here. So the Sleepy Sheepy Resort has not closed, it just moved. Come visit us in Seattle!!!

Goodbye

2008-03-31T23:12:00.003-05:00

I know it has been a while since my last post. And I have gotten a few complaints about not being more regular. I'm not sure you can get a prescription for irregular posting. But no matter, because this will probably be my last post. In the next month I might toss something else up if the fancy strikes me. But I wouldn't hold my breath if I was you.

Yesterday, I was laid off work due to the "difficult economic period." Thank god Bush has signed off so I can get my $600 in July to spend it on a wild shopping spree. Otherwise, I don't know what I would have done. Well...I guess this means that Georgia really did win. I didn't quite get to my 1000 ways but I hung on for 1 year and 8 months. I think that might be a record. It is a lot longer than 8 seconds. Where the hell is my beltbuckel?

Pimp my Cart

2008-02-13T20:58:00.006-05:00

And you thought the Geek Squad couldn't get any geekier...

Hmmm...Is it wrong to want to break something just so I can get a visit from a geek in a cart?

Or maybe to get them to pimp my ride.

Wait...do you think they pimped this one?

And a cart that needs it now.

(O and if you don't think there is enough carts in town for this business check out 4th of July, 2007.)

Just another thriling Thursday.

2008-01-27T12:54:00.000-05:00

Sorry it has been awhile since my last post. I bet you all were wondering if Georgia finally got me. Nope, I'm a surviver and still going. But let me remind you of a Day in the Life of Erin.

Thursday Morning:

I got up and was running a little late. Nothing new for a Thursday morning. After a quick shower, I put the kettle on for some tea. I went back into the bathroom to put my face on. After a while, I could hear "clinking." It reminded me of tempering metal. I went in the kitchen to check on my kettle and walked in on a ball of flames on the stove. In my rush, I had left the towel on the kettle. Now more a ball of flames than a towel.

My first thought was to grab the fire extinguisher and put out the fire. After about a nanosecond, I completely dismissed the idea. I wasn't going to clean up that mess. I don't have a housekeeper. So I turned off the burner and looked to the sink. Tossing the dirty dishes out, I figured I could maneuver the fire to the sink where I could put water on it.

I went to the drawer to grab my tongs. Standing there with my face about 3 inches from the flames I realized that I have no idea when the last time I used my tongs nor where they were. No problem, I just needed to find two metal utensils. Surely I would have something. Nope, all plastic. I grabbed my only metal utensils, a cheese grater and a non-electric hand mixer.

Slowly, I waked barefoot over the rug with my flaming pile of clothe between my two oddly shaped utensils hoping not to drop anything. I made it to the sink and the fire was out. Too bad the smoke would last for days as my exhaust fan is broken. Ok, time to go to work.

Thursday Lunch:

I figured that I should go out to eat as my little kitchen disaster was still ingrained into my smoky hair. I drove to Partner's Pizza, the local must eat restaurant. The parking lot was packed, like always. I found a spot and pulled in between a car hugging it's line and a van on the other line. It was ok, I don't have a large car and the parking spaces are fairly big. I get out and the van window rolls down and there is a lady and a small girl in it. The lady proceeds to yell at me...

Lady: Your too close to my car! Your six inches from my car!

I was not that close to the van. I could walk between it and my car. But I walk over because hey...I'm slightly masikistic. I did move to Georgia after all.

Me: Is there a problem?
Lady: Your too close to my van!
Me: Well, I am within my lines. Your the one that backed your van in poorly and on top of the line.
Lady: Well the car next to me was poorly parked so I had to park bad too.
Me: Um...ok what do you want me to do?
Lady: Well no one can get in the van.
Me: Do you have people coming to get in your van? (as I didn't really understand why she was just parked and sitting in the parking lot.)
Lady: Well I don't want to hit you. It would be bad if I scrapped the side of your car pulling out.
Me: Um...do you want me to move my car?
Lady: No no...I just don't think I can get her (little girl) in her car seat. I guess I will just have to pull out and then put her in her car seat.
Me: Do you want me to move my car, because I will if you want me to.
Lady: No No...I guess I will just have to pull out of the stall straight.
Me: Um...ok. (Like how else was she planning on getting out of the stale?)

I turned and walked away. The van stayed by my car until I got up to pay for my lunch. I can report that I had no scratches on my car. Good thing for that crazy lady.

Thursday Evening:

I closed up the office and was on my way outside to go home when all of a sudden the helicopter landed in the parking lot. Ug...I had to get going to make it to the gym. So I get in my car and wait. Is this guy going to turn off the blades or what? Well finally I gave up and just start my car. I slowly maneuver under the turning blades as the pilot looks at me. "Yeah, buddy this is a parking lot not a landing pad," I said to him knowing that he can't hear me. I ran off to the gym and hoped I can manage not to punch myself in the face during kickboxing. Then home to hid under my bed and wait for the next exciting day to start.

Mom killed JFK

2007-12-19T23:59:00.000-05:00

I can’t hide it anymore! I know this is not the normal story I tell on this blog but it must be told. All the years I was trying to cover it up by spreading conspiracy theories have come to an end. No more 2^nd shooter. No more grassy knoll. No, the truth is my mom is responsible for the death of our 35th president of the United States of America. I know, I know how could I hide it for so long and what finally made me crack?

The Church got me. You see I went home to be with family for the holidays. During mass the priest mentioned that this Thanksgiving marked the 44^th anniversary of JFK’s death. Of course when we went home everyone started talking about where they were when JFK was shot. All was good until my mom told her story.

My mother was in 1^st grade when it happened. An older boy came to her classroom and announced that the president was shot. No other details were given. The nun told all the kids to pray. They had to pray really hard that JFK was shot in the foot. And as you know, JFK was not shot in the foot.

You see if mom had prayed harder and truly believed that bullet would have left his head and went to the foot. It would have been a miracle! The brain surgeons would have been relieved and the foot doctors could have taken over. But NO my mom didn’t pray hard enough. She didn’t believe strong enough. Her faith was too weak. And thus because of her inadequacies she let JFK die. God was testing my mom and her 1^st grade class. And they failed.

Later my aunt would ask mom if she felt bad about killing JFK. My mom told my aunt that she didn’t for the last 44 years but now that I pointed it out she did. At least she still has her Catholic guilt. I thanked her for teaching me how to distribute it out so well.

Please, watch your step!

2007-11-27T20:58:00.000-05:00

You know about the curse of paying something off? Sure you do. You make the last payment on that car. It gets struck by lighting and burns to a crisp the next day. But it is your crispy car. All yours! Or you make that last payment on your mortgage. To celebrate you do the traditional tossing the mortgage into the fireplace. Your fireplace. And then your fireplace burns down your house. But is it your pile of rubble!

So no I didn’t make my last car payment or buy a house. No, something a little more important and closer to me. I just paid off all my student loans. So cross your fingers and watch your step. Hopefully my brain will not explode and leave grey matter all over the place. But if it does, I am counting on all of you. Please, please pick up my brain if you see it on the side of the road. Pull off the lint or twig that is on it and return it to my body. Thank you.

Interactive Shopping

2007-11-12T23:08:00.000-05:00

In my home I have a very large refrigerator and 27 cabinet doors. Yes, 27. It is like playing memory every day that I get up. Where are the bowls? Where is the cereal? Where are those rotting potatoes I can smell that I bought 3 months ago and forgot about? Yes, the kitchen is a blast. And interestingly enough cabinet doors shutting are the only thing I hear from my neighbors who I share a wall with. Hmmm….I try so very hard to shut my cabinets softly because I know the neighbors will hear. Never mind the neighboring 1 year old finds opening and closing doors as a game. Where does my need to shut cupboard doors softly come from? I guess the memory of my mother running into the kitchen in the middle of the day with her pjs on screaming “STOP SLAMMING THE CUPBOARD DOORS!” might have something to do with it. Which led to having all the cupboard doors open all the time in our kitchen at home. Lov’a mom. But now that I am taller this only leads to concussions. So now I have to buy lots of food because I let it all rot behind the closed doors.

So to the grocery store I go. Now food shopping seems like a safe and normal thing to do. I mean people do it every day. But there was the box incident at Publix…hmmm. Forget about that already? Ask Ms. Peach about it; she’ll fill you in.

I finally think I figured out where some of the food items are in the store. You see they like to put them in groups of meals. For example, velveta cheese is by the pasta because you use both of them to make Mac and Cheese. Nice, but what if I want to make grilled cheese? No the bread and cheese are not together. As you can imagine this can become rather confusing fast. But I’ll live…maybe.

They are nice and put all the produce in the same area. Well most of it. So you ever notice how they water the green stuff? I mean regardless if it needs it or not. Like the celery. Shouldn’t someone tell them that it is already in a plastic bag and doesn’t need watering? Ever been picking out your veggies and all of a sudden joined a wet tee shirt contest? I WIN!! As I jump up in down holding my head of broccoli trophy. Ok, apparently this was not what Kroger was looking for. Let’s take a step back. So I was standing there picking out my veggies when all of a sudden the lights start to flash. And then there was banging. I step back startled, while I looked oddly at the row that has just started to go ballistic. Then it starts to rain. OOO I get it, it was thunder and lighting warning me to step back and not get wet. Cleaver.

Ok, so I got my heart palpitation for the day from the thunder storm but my shirt is still dry. I can live with that. I move on to the milk. I got to get my gallon or I get cranky. And no one likes a cranky Erin. I grab my milk and turn…oooo…Cheetos. Yeah like I said, no idea the organization schema they have going on. As I am picking out my perfect bag of only partially smashed chips I hear MAAAAOOOOAAAA. What the…? I turn and look around. What was that? I see nothing and then I hear it again? Finally after about 10 times of the noise and me standing in the middle for the row looking around confused as everyone else walks around me, I spot it. It was a little speaker on the top of the milk fridge. The milk is mooing at me. Apparently they were going for the “fresh milk” thing. But the canned cow sounded like a cow that was 3 weeks due at the rendering plant. It was awful. I can make a better cow sound. I didn’t even realize it was supposed to be a cow until after I spotted the speaker. It made me want to put the milk back. Who wants milk from a geriatric half gutted dying cow?

Seriously, the thunderstorm was cleaver. The dying cow was creepy. Do people miss the milk? I mean it is in a big cooler and there are rows of it. It is the one thing I can sniff out pretty easily. I was so disturbed that the mooed at me, I left the store. Not sure I got everything. I really was not looking forward to hearing the sound of a squealing pig drowning in a vat of boiling water as I picked out my pork chop. Nor did I want to smell rotting infected dead animal as I walked by the kibble. This interactive shopping was just too much for me. Just put the food in a logical order. Leave the animal mutilation noises in the slaughter house where they belong, please.

O OO OOO!!! Do you think I could break into the store and change the dead cow sound to maybe a rat squeak? Do you think milk sales would go down? Hmmm….more milk for me.

Spooky

2007-11-06T23:06:00.000-05:00

Ok now I want to talk about Halloween. Now I know I am a little slow, however it seems to me I should be able to talk about a holiday after it happens for a length of time equivalent to how long stores were selling merchandise before the holiday. I think that makes me good until May 2011? Someone check my math. So without further ado, here is your read.

Trick-OR-Treat!! Hehe, no, I didn't go trick-or-treating; I'm too old. And no I didn't hand out candy. I'm more of the type to go buy the candy and then conveniently forget to turn on my porch light. Yeah, yeah I know I'm a horrible person. Get over it.

But really the Halloween for me was going to a haunted house. Scratch that, THE haunted house. I went to Norcross's Netherworld Haunted House. For those of you who don't know that is number one ranked scariest haunted house in all of the US. I figured if any haunted
house was going to get me this one was it.

I went with Steph and Adam. It started with us driving. Then me missing the turn and then missing the parking lot driveway and having to back out into heavy traffic as the parking guy stood in the way in the middle of the dark. It was great. Then we walked in the dark on the side of the road while cars whizzed by. Yeah Georgia doesn't believe in sidewalks. Finally we got there and I got to go to my first horror house…um I mean….Porta-Potty. But those dark horrors are too graphic for internet posting.

Ok so we wait in line and finally get to go into the 'extra' haunted house. The ghoul at the door tells us that we can't have our cell phones on; starts off scary enough. We walk through with monsters jumping out at us. Not very scary but some people were screaming. I get bored enough that I let the two little teenage boys behind me take the lead just in time to hear "Get on your knees and crawl through." Um…we'll let that one go too.

So I get on my hands and knees and the scariest thing happened; Steph kept feeling up my butt. Thanks Steph! Nothing like having your cousin feel you up to have a night of terror. But then she moved to my ankles and Adam saw the sign to stand up. We did and found ourselves behind a monster.

"Excuse me mister monster, but we got behind you."

"O yes you need to turn left instead of right."

"O, thanks, Happy Halloween."

"No problem. Have a good night."

Pleasant monster. We got out and got in line for the big attraction. About a 30-45 minute wait. They were selling Fear energy drinks. Which saddened me. I mean did I need an energy drink to stay awake in the big haunted house? Was I going to get so bored that I would just fall into a narcoleptic slumber? Come on.

Well maybe I should have gotten one because I didn't scream or get startled once. Even when some random monster screamed right in my left ear I didn't jump. O and there was the one monster that just kept coming closer and closer until he touched me on my side. I was like "um…back off." I felt bad. Should I have faked it? Well the only thing that was scary to me was the amount of carbon dioxide that was in the house.

Ok so long story I know. But no death, no scariness, o hold on. We left and went back to the cars. As I went to open my door I saw there was no window in the driver side. I yelled for Steph and Adam. The door was unlocked. I freaked out. I looked my phone, my purse, my GPS, DJ, Chris, everything…everything all there. I turned on the car and rolled up the window. Freaky. So we stood in the dark parking lot talking about how I knew I locked my door and how they saw me do it. And as I held my keys up in my palm not touching any buttons the
car lights flashed and locked…will that happen again? We'll see…

For The Birds

2007-10-24T21:03:00.000-05:00

Today started off well. It rained. Do you know how happy that makes me? Most people would say it was because Georgia is in the middle of a terrible drought and are afraid of running out of water. Okay, I’ll give you that the rain is good so we have water to shower, brush our teeth, do our laundry, wash our floors, and all that jazz. (Not that you could get some people down here to do that even if there was a flood.) However, I was happy to see/hear the rain because I got sleep. Yes sleep. GLORIOUS SLEEP!!! You hear me!? The pitter patter of rain drops knocks me out like a right hook. And with sleep comes a clearer mind. Go clear minds! That insomnia crap is for the birds.

You know what else is for the birds? Nothing!! But apparently no one told them that. You see I was using my new found brain to do some due diligence on my work. I was doing well, too, until I hear this sound; as if someone gently rapping, rapping at my window. “‘Tis my boss," I muttered, "tapping at my window; Only this, and nothing more."

O wait, sorry wrong bird story. But my boss does like to tap on the window to get you outside for a smoke. Funny, I don’t smoke; funnier my boss is home hacking his lungs out. My interest peaked. If not my boss, then who or what was tapping at my window? It grew louder and into a Thud. Thud..Thud…THUD…THUD

Okay, that was getting creepy, so I went over to the window to open the blinds. I drew back the cord and these big black masses flung from the window sill to the dark sky. I drew back another blind and more masses exploded into the sky. What was going on?

I moved to the door to see what had been beckoning me to come outside. I opened the door, and there in front of me…surrounding me…was a murder; an honest to god murder. It was so massive! I have never seen such a large murder of crows in my life. They had been tapping at my window and now circled the sky above me cawing and crowing.

Ya that was enough for me. I went back inside and shut my blinds. I went to my boss’s office, the same boss that shares a window of walls with me and the one boss that was actually at work. I told her what happened and asked her if she had the bird knocking on her windows and if she saw them. She looked and me and said that she had no idea what I was talking about.

I know I saw them. I am actually awake today. I cowered in my office until the end of the work day, after everyone else had gone home. I sat there, alone, wishing I didn’t have to go outside again and be eaten by birds. But I was hungry. I knew I could not live on the peanuts in my drawer. So I ventured out. I peaked outside, ran to my car, locked the doors, and peeled out of the parking lot.

I made it home without a sign of the murder. I think I am safe. I hope I am safe. I might be safe. I probably will be murdered… as long as it rains while it happens I’ll be fine.

Pushin' up Daisies

2007-10-10T20:22:00.000-05:00

Lately, I have been pretty lucky about dogging death in Georgia. Except for that guy today that took up 6 parking spots in the Kroger parking lot waiting to get his emissions checked. I ALMOST had to bash his old, grey haired head into his steering column and then probably get beat down by a cop. But I refrained myself; Georgia is turning me soft. O for those of you that doesn’t know I suffer from extreme parking rage. If you’re moving we’re all good, but once you stop you better be in a designated parking spot, WITHIN your lines. Okay, but that is not what this post is about.

Although, I have been able to defy death lately (note the lack of posting), Georgia has taken it to the next level. It has entered my dreams; or should I say nightmares? The following was the nightmare I had last night that woke me up at 3:30 am and was so scary that I could not fall back asleep. Or at least I didn’t want to for fear of what might follow.

I stood there, eyeing the big closet. I had become aware that it was caging people in its own little hell. The tortured cries of the souls drew me to action. I knew I had to save them from The Closet. I sprung into action freeing many. One of the freed beings was a good friend of mine. I was happy I was able to help her and the others. But there were still others locked inside of vessels that were strewn about the defeated closet and outer floor. I asked, "Why are some people in vessels?" To which I was informed that it was like solitary confinement. Seeing the shear terror of the vessels I dared asked, “What was the torture like in hell, and what do these poor unfortunate souls feel now?” I was told that inside the vessels were the person and singing daisies. That's right, hell is full of singing daisies just annoying the shit out of everyone. The horror! But I just could not stand there. We discussed the captive people and how to free them while we cleaned up the kitchen; it had become a mess from the fight for freedom. Just then, I saw a jar that had come out of hell. I looked at it, and it had many ingredients. I read the first ingredient, and it was teddy bear blood.

At that exact point I woke up. I think my teddy bear Roger bit me because he didn't like my dream. However, I contest that singing daisies are quite scary in their own right. I still had that freaked out feeling of not wanting to go back to bed after a really bad nightmare. So if ever someone asks you what hell is like you can tell them it is filled with singing daisies and teddy bear blood. At least the one in Georgia is.

High Ho High Ho, it’s off to work I go OR I love the smell of NAPALM in the morning

2007-09-17T20:14:00.000-05:00

This dreary Monday morning I pulled my aching body out of bed and began my mundane task of getting ready for work. I realized that I had not made any lunch so I decided to stop by subway on my way to work. I drove to subway. As I entered I noted that they had a sign saying they were no longer taking church bulletins for sub discounts on Sunday. Guess there is no reason for anyone to go to church any more. Hmmm…

I stood in the empty subway while a young lady was writing down information from a posting on the wall. She looked up and then went back to her work. She seemed rather in a hurry. There was no one behind the counter. I stood there a while listening to the music. The writing girl got up and walked swiftly out the door. Very odd.

I stood there by myself now. I started to wonder if I was too early. It was about 9:05 when I came in. After a little longer I started to feel uneasy. That uneasy feeling you see people in horror movies get when they enter that diner that seems perfectly fine but all the staff are folded up in the back with all their life juices sucked out of them. Ya, and then they start to leave and the monster gets them too. I looked at the door. No signs of life anywhere. I wondered if this was finally it. Would I go in a Subway restaurant? How inhumane. I started to edge my way to the door when two Subway Artists came around the corner. I should have guessed. You know artists and their punctuality.

They saw me and the older artist acknowledged my presents with a slightly turned down frown. She continued to fill her meatballs and then finally came over to take my order. I ordered my usual, “6” wheat with roast beef and American cheese.” And I got my usual reply: “What kind of bread did you want? What did you want on it?” I don’t know why I even bother to form words the fist time around. Then to the toppings. I again ordered my usual: “lettuce, tomato, and black olives, that’s it thank you.” And I got my usual reply: “no mayo, mustard, horseradish, oil...?” with a look of “your sandwich is going to be dry.” Yes I know thank you for your concern. At least the lady that calls me baby wasn’t there.

The second artist was clumsily working at the register. She looked at her co-worker and said “you have to do a start up before you can ring anyone up. I don’t know how to do that.” So I waited for the register to turn on. I looked at the older worker who was working on starting up the register. I said “what time do you open?” thinking that the hours were wrong on the door. “Seven o’clock,” she said. “O,” I replied, guess the door hours are right. I thanked them for my sandwich and sulked out the door. I really didn’t have the time to spend 10 minutes at subway.

I got in my car and drove over the water and through the woods to the rest of the way to work. Just as I started to turn into my parking lot I was rudely jolted awake by the helicopter talking off from over the hill on the left of me. That is not where it normally parks! Holy crap, it came close…maybe it just seemed close as I didn’t sign up for choppers taking off next to me at work. I don’t want to be all I can be. Just leave me alone.

I pulled into a parking stall and turned off the engine. Hmmm….I thought. Maybe I should call to see if I was insured for helicopter accidents. Would there be any way that I could be at fault if my little Matrix and a helicopter went at it? Really even if I was driving 120 miles per hour, backwards, with my eyes closed, I think the chopper would have to be at fault. Am I wrong? Well I don’t want to be in the market for a new car or any new guts so I went inside and hid under my desk for the rest of the day.

It's a Zoo Out There

2007-09-03T20:46:00.000-05:00

Recently I decided that I didn't want to be one of those people that live in a place and have never seen the sites. You know the type. They have lived there for years. You ask them what is good to see in their city or if a specific attraction is worth seeing and you get a blank stare. Not me. I figured you can't judge what you don't know. Since I have been in this state for over a year now, I better get to know it better. I don't want to be accused of not giving it a chance after all. Maybe I just missed the good parts of Georgia.

So to start it all off I decided to go to the zoo. I have always enjoyed the zoo. I have been to the zoos in Washington D.C.; Cincinnati, Ohio; Honolulu, HI; and Santiago, Chile. The zoo in Chile was great, but my all time favorite is the Henry Doyle Zoo in Omaha, NE. As a child we went there often. So how did the Atlanta Zoo compare? Well let's revisit my journey and find out.

The Atlanta Zoo reminds me of a very sad Noah's arc. Whatever animals are in the zoo there are only two of them. They all looked rather sad, lonely and very annoyed with the stupid jack asses on the other side of the cages. However, the zoo animals had an interesting way of dealing with the crowds of jerks banging on the cages, yelling and being generally disrespectful to the zoo creatures. I saw the butt of every animal in the zoo. I can't blame the animals for feeling the urge to moon all the stupid people. All the animals see is dumb asses all day they might as well show the asses their asses.

Sheep butts.

(No the resort sheep didn't come because I didn't want them to be stuck in the zoo.)

I started my painful journey in the rain to the Panda pen, the main attraction. Since I have been in Georgia a little panda cub was born at the zoo. So I wanted to see the little cutie before they sent her packing for China. I was standing at the Panda bear exhibit trying to be polite and take turns, as they asked of us. Unfortunately, I can not say that all the visitors learned how to take turns and respect others. Some families were pushing and shoving and throwing their kids at the glass past the "do not cross" bars. I watched as one mother tried to teach their child why it was wrong to bang on the glass while a grown man stood next to them making stupid faces and pounding on the glass with his kids. Why do parents feel the urge to teach their kids horrible manners? Why don't the zoo keepers use tranquilizer darts on the people that really need to be taken out? I would be a happier person if I could walk over to the fire extinguisher and see next to it a tranquilizer gun in a glass box that reads "in case of jack ass attacks." I would defiantly be breaking some glass. But instead I got my picture and moved on.

Panda Cub

I moved to the less crowed panda exhibits. I was looking at the red panda bear standing right next to the sign that said "Red Panda." A lady and child walked up next to me and stood on the other side of the sign. The lady, bless her soul, started to talk. "O look, it looks just like a little red bear. Just like a little bear. Like a teddy bear. I can't believe how much it looks like a bear. Look that red panda looks just like a bear." Now she went on like this for a while and I started to twitch. I felt the urge to pick up my phone right then and there and call child services. I hope that lady was not home schooling. How slow can one person be? The red panda is not just like a bear, the red panda IS a bear. That is why it is called a red panda bear. And I guess it wouldn't be so bad except that she obviously knew she was looking at a red panda and still didn't understand that it was a bear. It also might not have been so bad if the Atlanta's main zoo attraction wasn't the panda bears. Okay so there is yet another slow person committing their child to a life of stupidity.

I continued on. I looked down on the cement path and noticed the uniformly distributed paw prints leading to the tiger cage. I thought that was cute and I followed them down to see the tigers. As I walked, a woman in her late 20s early 30s started to rant about the paws. She said, "look at the paw prints in the cement. That's really cool. I wonder how long it took them to walk the tiger down this path to make the prints." Now I first thought she must have been talking to a little child and trying to get their imagination up. When I looked over I realized that she was not kidding, she was talking to the 30+ old man she was with. I walked faster hoping not to catch the stupidity.

After the tigers, I saw the apes, monkeys, gorillas, etc. This was rather a large exhibit. Apparently, there are a lot of cognitive and behavior testing on the primates at the zoo. Thus, they had a large number of them. The video by one of the cages showed a gorilla using a computer to recognize other gorillas and was rewarded with food. I thought it was a good thing they didn't do that test on the people standing next to me. I kid you not this is what I witnessed. The people standing next to me were making noises at the animals trying to get a reply. Then there was a noise that came back. The people got excited, and started making more stupid noises and more stupid noises came back. Now I stood there watching this display of stupidity in shear disbelief. You see it was not the animals making the noise (like the stupid people thought) but rather it was other stupid people on the other side of the exhibit also trying to get a noise out of the animals. I swear this actually happened. I can't translate Stupid but I can only hope it was not a matting call.

I walked away quickly. I finally made it to the meerkat cage to end my zoo experience. The zoo actually had a half dozen or so of these animals. Two of them were getting it on. I will spare you the comments of the stupid people when they finally realized what was going on. However, I did become amused by another meerkat sitting in the corner watching his mates mate. It probably was the highlight of my trip. I smiled and left the zoo.

Georgia: Always up to code...just not sure which ones

2007-08-05T15:59:00.000-05:00

Um...really, what can I say?

My Firsts

2007-07-31T18:38:00.000-05:00

Well, I made it! I have officially been working and living in Georgia for one year. Wow, and I am still alive. Who would have thought that was possible? To celebrate, I am doing something very special. I am going to go to the dentist. I know I should have told you to sit down for that one. It will be the first time I ever have a dental appointment under my very own dental insurance. Exciting, I know. But this is not the only first I have had since moving to Georgia. So I think I will take the time to share with you some of my first. Some have been already posted about others will be new.

Within the last year for the first time I have...

tried grits…I’ll stay to my CoCoWheats

broke out in hives head to toe from ODing on Penicillin

experienced first hand an airbag deploying

got the brush off from a car dealership…yes I’m talking about you Mike Fitzpatrick Ford Lincoln Mercury of Newnan.

got called Miss. Erin

was asked if I went to church standing in line at the Post Office

worried about helicopters landing in my parking lot

worked a full time job….with my own office WITH windows

joined a gym

bought furniture to fill a house

dodging golf carts while playing Frisbee golf

lived where there was more trees than people

drove on an interstate with more that 4 lanes

had my clothes eaten by my closet

had a closet bigger than my dorm room

lived completely by myself

couldn’t buy alcohol on Sunday (well at least after I was 21)

made lasagna

tried to pull into a golf cart parking space in my car

bought a car all by myself

found a “lucky” four leaf clover

owned my own washer and dryer

wrote a blog…I know you are all happy about that

had a gas leak

lived in a state that was on fire

experienced a pollen invasion…ewww tree sex

been to Florida

got stared down by a giant possum

nearly hit a golf cart driving down the road with no lights

visited the Georgia Aquarium

got my gall bladder removed…pretty sure that will be the only time for that one

been asked if I wanted sweet tea

been downtown with no street lights

had a box thrown at me while grocery shopping

had a dishwasher

wore t-shirts in January when everyone else had on parkas

been yelled at by a guy in the United Kingdom

served gravy with my chicken strips

eaten at Chick-fil-a

been hung up on from a customer service office

went to IKEA

seen golf cart drag racing

experienced the ‘you can set your watch to’ the 3:30pm pour down of rain

eaten at a Waffle House

survived the Atlanta airport

bought a car all by myself

spent Easter away from the parental

lived out of a state of my parents

paid for cable

got a peach sticker for voting

took myself to the ER

paid a box to park

lived in a home with no insulation

heard a mockingbird

petted a shark

went to a zoo by myself

sat in a pee seat on a airplane

Okay that is what I could think of, even with help. You got any others?

Mommy, where do sheep come from?

2007-07-25T20:00:00.001-05:00

Well when two sheep really love each other...

Addison

Everyone, welcome Addison to the flock. Addison will be at the resort with the other sheep and me until Mikey settles back in Iowa City. Yeah more sheep!!!

The Midas Touch

2007-07-17T21:30:00.000-05:00

Recently I went back to Iowa for a visit. On the lucky day 07/07/07, I went and visited my friend John. As I opened my car door to get out the first thing I saw was a four leaf clover growing on the curb. This was the first four leaf clover that I have ever found. It had a few brown spots but I picked it and carried up to the house. I showed John and set it on his tv stand as we enjoyed our night. I left and forgot the clover on the stand. I called John and told him he could take care of the clover and enjoy its good luck. This got me a lot of razz for giving up my uber lucky clover to my friend.

A few days later, I was informed by John that the clover was not working. He was having some pretty rotten luck. Among other things his wash machine broke. Poor John. I told him that I guess the clover only works for the person that found it.

Today I was surprised to get a card from John with the clover in it. I took it out and unwrapped the cellophane that was around it. I saw that the 2^nd leaf was hiding behind the 3^rd. I touched the 2^nd to see if I could separate it. Unfortunately, the leaf snapped off due to the brittleness of the clover. :(

I figure I better put this clover in a really safe place. I grabbed a small picture frame and figured framing the clover was a good idea. I open the frame and glass shards fell off. The glass was chipped. O well broken frame for a broken clover.

The 'Lucky' Clover

We’ll have to see what kind of luck it will bring me. So far the best thing that has come from the clover is a card from John.

(O and did some laundry and I am a little worried about my wash machine. It sounds funny. Hmmm….)

The Gas Man Can

2007-06-14T20:43:00.000-05:00

Today started off like any other “normal” day in PTC. I drug my butt out of bed, got ready, and went to work. I was so tired that I decided to go home over the lunch hour to take a nap. As I opened my door I got a scent of gas. Becoming callous to near death experiences from living in a continual state of trying to be murdered and being extremely tired, I decided to ignore the gas and just go to sleep anyway. So I lay down. I got up and as I walked out my door I noted that I should check the pilots when I got home from work tonight.

When I got home from work, I opened my door and smelled gas again. This time I checked my water heater. The pilot was fine. Then I checked my range. It is a gas range but it is an eclectic starter. So there was no possibility for a pilot light to be out. I called Whirlpool to see if they had any suggestions on what one should check to make sure their stove was not slowly trying to kill them. I got a message saying that they were closed. Awesome.

I check the range manual and it said that if you smell gas, call the gas company. So logically I called my brother in Minnesota instead hoping that he could give me some better words of wisdom. No luck.

I finally gave in and called the gas company. They told me that there was an abnormally large reporting of gas leaks in my neighborhood. And that I needed to leave my house immediately. A technician was on his way and would be there within the next half of an hour to an hour. I was not to touch anything, not even to hang up the phone. I didn’t tell them that I had been turning on and off all the appliances and had turned on all my gas burners. So I let them hang up on me and I did what I thought was right. I cleaned up my place so that the gas man would not know what a slob I was. I called people and stood in my laundry room folding my clothes. I even thought about baking a potato but couldn’t think of a good thing to say when the gas man came and asked me what I was doing. I walked outside ever once in a while to pretend like I was “doing the right thing.” I figured that I had opened enough windows that if I just stood outside it was the same as being inside by the window. Maybe that was the gas talking.

After an hour had passed I decided to call the gas company back. They told me that because of the increase in calls they were running behind. About an hour behind. Well, here I am; 8:30. I am hungry, NO starving. And I am looking at my steak that wants me to eat it. And of course I am writing a blog instead of standing outside for the gas company to come fix my problem. I even thought about calling the gas company back telling them that I think I can afford to lose a few brain cells and still function in this state. That they could just come tomorrow. But I guess I should “play by the rules” or whatever.

Have I become that callous? Do I don’t even care anymore? Should I just stick my head in the oven and get it over with? Ug…I need to walk away. Go check to make sure my neighbors are still alive.

Well the gas man just came and finally left. After he talked to me forever and showed me pictures of his grandkids. I love to talk but it is 10:30 and I haven’t even eaten yet. I did learn that I have a gas leak in the connector of my stove to the gas line. The gas man turned off my gas to the stove and gave my oven a nice new tag. Very thoughtful of him. He told me that in a normal day they get 20 gas leak calls. Today he got 300 and that was why it took him 3 hours to get here.

Great…hold on I have to see what the sheep are up to. They stopped making noise.

"Let's play gas man"
(no sheep were hurt in the taking this picture.)

You like my range accessory?
Call to get your own today!

Well I had a hard time keeping the sheep from playing “Gas Man.” Now I will have to deal with coming home to Jesse’s head in the oven every day. Well that was enough excitement for one day. O look it is midnight and the gas man is working across the street. Poor gas man. Guess I will call to get my oven fixed tomorrow. Good night…hopefully I will wake up in the morning.

Feel the Burn?

2007-05-26T21:00:00.002-05:00

(Click to enlarge)

2007-05-21T21:00:00.001-05:00

Baaa Baaaaa BAAAA!!!

Baaaa Baaaa Baaa baaaaa
BAAAA Baaa BAAA Baaa
Umm…baaa…ummm…..hi, ya okay. HI!!!
Hi I’m Chris Mac!
It’s Jesse BAAAA!!
Yeah that was D.J.
Little one doesn’t really speak
too much English much. Baaa! Baaa!
BAAAAAAAAAA!
D.J. Baaaa!
Look bell!! Oooo Baaaa bing!
Bing!
Ok, so we broke on to the
Blog while Erin is busy
painting her face. We
wanted to clear up some things
that Erin types in her last
post. Like what we were
doing at the resort when
Erin was gone and…. Baaaa!
AND about that bird.
O yeah our bird. Well, you…
It’s a MOCKING BIRD! BAAA!
Um...yeah so that bird is a
MOCKING BIRD!
Okay, Jesse, I think they got it.
Go back to your coloring books. Bing. baaa
O okay.
Anyway, you know how Erin was talking about that BAAAA! bird that Erin was complaining about? Well we heard the neighbor say it was a MOCKIGNBIRD. Um….yeah. A Georgia Mockingbird. Like in that book, To Kill a Mockingbird. I think Erin likes that book too much but maybe just for the title. BAA!
Yeah D.J. Likes Scout. And our mockingbird was mocking a car alarm yesterday. It was GREAT!!! Bing!
Ooo yellow!!!
Ug…yeah well. O back to the smoke day. I saw that Erin said that Sonny Perdue maybe burning down Georgia. There are SOOO many fires down here. It’s like Sonny is trying to be Nero. Do we really have to burn Rome, again? But unlike Erin I understand his thinking. Maybe he is a sheep. See, Georgia is all up in a tizzy about illegal immigrants. And they say that most are from Mexico. Mexico City has the most densely smog in the world. So if they fill Georgia with smog everyone will die except those that are used to it. So it will be really easy to spot the people that are from Mexico City. And then they can check all the live people it they have visas. Bing!

The sad thing is our tags say China and not Mexico. So we didn’t want to die. But no worries because I watch a lot of action movies and knew exactly what to do. I turned into Sheepo and grabbed the fire extinguisher. It has a pin just like a grenade and thus works just like it. You pull the pin; toss the extinguisher in slow motion while mouthing a word that is soo slow you don’t understand it; and when the extinguisher lands it destroys everything in its path. Just like a grenade for fire. And the I get fame and glory for saving the resort. And all is good. But Erin came home and told me that we were safe. Which is good too. But I sleep on the fire extinguisher now. Just in case.
I helped too!!
You crawled into the dryer. Beehhh
Yup, so?
So how did crawling in the
dryer help save the resort?
Well I had a spray bottle! Check the picture!
It works better if there is
water in it. What were
you going to do with it?
Well when the fire came I was going to throw it and let the fire take it instead of the resort.
Yeah, good job.
Thanks! :)
BAAAAAAAA!
Ok D.J. your turn. What were you doing?
Baaa!
Yeah lots of question for you, lets just start. How did you get to the top shelf with the cornstarch and cooking sherry?
Baaa Beeeehhhh!
O there is a picture.

Baaa

BAaaaa!

O Erin is not going to like that. Hmmm….
What was the cooking sherry for again?
Baaaa.
Okay, good.
O baaa, I hear Erin. Her face must be all gone. Baaa!
Baaaa
Beeehhhh Baaaa
Baaa Baaa
Bye! BYE!!!! BAAAA!! Bing…oooo

O the joys of nature

2007-05-16T21:12:00.000-05:00

This morning started off like every other evil morning in Georgia. My alarm went off; I hit snooze; and that darn bird started up again. Yes, I know we should all love nature and try to save it and blah blah blah vomit. Where did I put that arsenic? Um…anyway….I have a crazy bird that lives outside my window. It is trying to hook up with my alarm clock. It has learned to mimic the exact pitch and patter of my alarm. So every day from my room you can hear “zonk, zonk, zonk” (alarm clock) SMACK (snooze) “zonk, zonk, zonk” (slightly challenged Georgia bird). So I got up and tried not to think about what kind of animal/machine would come from an alarm clock – bird mating and headed to the bathroom to beautify myself for the day.

After getting all beautified to go sit in my office by myself all day I stepped outside. I was hit! Hit by the smell of smoke. Now being that I live in the middle of a forest, smoke seems to bother me a bit more than it used to. I looked around. Didn’t see anything burning? The smoke was kind of thin, so I determined that it must be from somewhere other than my neighborhood. I got in my car and drove to work. I stepped out of my car and there it was again. This mysterious smoke was really starting to bother me. Hmmm…well I did what any logical person does when they smell smoke; I checked the internet for news. I figured it was coming from the big tire burning in Butts County Georgia. Which is only a few counties over from me. Later I would find out it was smoke from the Georgia/Florida border fire some 300 miles away. (I think it is a new illegal immigration tactic Sonny Perdue is putting into place. They are wicked serous about illegals around here. I have no idea why anyone would fight to get into Georgia!)

Anyway, I go home to find I was not the only one worried about this mystery smoke. I saw Chris Mac sitting on the fireplace with the fire extinguisher. I asked Chris what was up. To which I got, “well I’m guarding the resort from the fire. And it will come in at the fireplace because that is where the fire belongs.” Ok, well I guess that makes sense to a sheep. Then I asked, "Chris do you know how to use a fire extinguisher?" Chris, "Yup, just like a grenade. I see it all the time in movies." O great. I explained to Chris that the fire was really far aways and that we just had to watch out not to breath too much of the smoke. We were in the orange zone but we would be fine inside. Then I got a little worried because Chris is the brightest sheep in the herd at the resort. (But Chris is still a sheep, so…)

Chris Mac guarding the fireplace.

Then I heard some thumping from the laundry room. I enter and there was Jesse in the dryer. I asked Jesse, “Why are you in the dryer?” To which Jesse said, “Well I was going to climb into the washer to hide from the fire in water because I know water beats fire. But then the washer was too heigh so I climbed in the dryer instead.” Hmmm…more sheep logic. I told Jesse that it was safe to come out.

Jesse hiding in the dryer.

Now there is one more sheep that lives at the resort D.J. I can only image what D.J. got into. I looked and looked and finally I found D.J. behind the door in the den. I asked D.J., “What are you doing! And why are you behind the door?” D.J. looked at me with teared eyes and said, “I’m hiding from the fire. It won’t find me behind the door. And I got these candles to fight the fire if it does find me. And if I couldn’t fight the fire with fire than I have this cornstarch to throw on it.” O dear. Good thing I have sheep safety on the lighter. I said, “D.J. were did you get this idea to use fire and cornstarch to fight the fire?” D.J., “well, I heard on the news that they were building fires to stop the fires. And I’ve seen you cook.” Hmmm…okay. Then I asked, “D.J. what is with the cooking sherry?” D.J. replied, “Just in case.” O the sheep logic is strong with this one.

D.J. and the cooking sherry.

So after getting everything put back where it belonged I sat the sheep down and we had a conversation. I explained that the fire was very very far away. I told them that it was very safe in Georgia. (Some times you have to lie to sheep so they can sleep at night. It is hard for them to count themselves.) So I got all the sheep settled down. Then it started rain. And I said, “See the rain will keep fire away.” And then we saw lightning.

Poor sheep.

Do You KNOW what Pollen IS?!?

2007-04-19T19:48:00.000-05:00

(Click comic to enlarge.)

So some have thought that I make things up for my blog. Here are some pictures to support my comic. And really the pictures do not do this phenomenon justice.

My front stoop that has some cover from the elements.

My pollen gutter, I mean rain gutter.

Snot on Planes

2007-04-17T20:30:00.001-05:00

Last week I went up to Minneapolis, MN to visit some of my family and get a fresh breath of Midwestern air. Of course this required a plane trip up there and back. I know a lot of people that don't like to fly because of the close proximity to other people and their sicknesses. Some people I know get sick ever single time they fly. I however have little fear of getting sick and am normally pretty good about other people's grossness. As I'm sure my mother can attest, I was the little girl that contemplated throwing dirt in my scrapes to see if I could get them to puss. But facial liquids…facial liquids are a completely different story…

I stared at the Suduko puzzle on the back of the in-flight magazine sipping my Sprite with no ice on the Boeing 737. Minding my own business I hear the sound that makes my skin crawl off of my muscles and bones into my shoes. SSSSNNNIIIIHHHHHAAAA The mucus fighting to get out and the person refusing to let it go while the nose screams in horror. This individual has some sick obsession with fighting gravity to pull that snot up past their nose hairs and into their throat. As I hear this I could feel a phantom wad of mucus sliding down the back of my throat to my unsuspecting stomach below. Don't these people get enough food in their lives? They will give you as many pretzels that you want on the plane. Does other people's snot taste like chocolate? What am I missing!?

I spotted the culprit on the way up to MN. I stared at the back of his head contemplating if I could render him unconscious, and thus making him stop, by chucking my pen at his head. I analyzed the obstacles in my way (other passengers) and determined the different ways this could go wrong. But I was willing to take the risk. Unfortunately, I just couldn't subject my poor pen to touching such a disgusting person. I looked at the call button wondered if I could ask the flight attendant to suffocate the man with a pillow. But she didn't look strong enough. The man obvious had great nose pressure and could easily blow the attendant well into first class.

And if it wasn't bad enough that I had to fly next to this guy on the flight up and the flight back, his snot sucking was contagious. Other people all around me started the sniffling. I finally could take no more. My body curdled up into the fetal position as I started to twitch uncontrollably. My only hope was that the turbulence of the plane would comfort me enough to fall asleep and escape the horror.

As I started to fall in and out of consciousness I had an even worse experience. I thought I heard myself sniffle, and then again. Was this some sick dream? Was I really sniffling? I couldn't take it anymore! Luckily the plane landed shortly and I ran off. (I would like to take this time to apologize to any elderly ladies I may or may not have knocked over on my rush off of the airplane.) I could never have imagined in a million years how happy I was to be on Georgia ground.

Erin's Suburban Hell

2007-04-11T21:12:00.000-05:00

Here is your guide. More than what I had when I did the trip.

It was one of the first gorgeous Saturday days of a Georgia spring and I was just starting to feel good after my surgery. I had been cooped up for the last 2 weeks at home and sitting in the office. I was ready to start a new beginning in Georgia with the new season. So I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and go explore what PTC had to offer. I drove my nice new car to Peachtree Lake (1) and started to explore. First, I checked out the fountain in front of the City Hall/Library. Next, I looked over the disc golf course. And then finally, I got serious and started walking around the lake.

Just stay by the fountain and you'll be fine.

I felt pretty good and entered the wooded area. Not completely sure where I was going I figured I could always backtrack. I had been on this first part of the path before. It was nice and everyone that walked or drove by in their golf carts smiled. I approached what I thought was a funny site (2). Someone had drawn a chalk outline of a person on the path. It didn't say "Abandon all hope all who enter here…" so I figured I was still good. I took a picture and moved on.

Sometimes you have to see the signs and READ them.

As I progressed I started to wonder where I was actually at. Right then (3) I saw a sign. It said "THE FRED" and it pointed further down the trail. (The Fred is the local amphitheatre. I was just wondering the other day how to get there so I thought I would walk a little more to see where it was.) I walked and then checked my watch (4). I had been walking for a while now. But it couldn't be that far. The people that passed by me didn't seem as friendly now. Maybe my look of bewilderment was showing. Could the locals see my fear? Were they going to attack? I quickened my step.

I was starting to worry now. I had just realized (5) that the lake was larger then it appeared on the map that I looked at earlier. They really should have a note on those things saying that the actual size is bigger than the picture.

By now (6) I had made it half way around the lake. So I thought. There was a map. I stood in front of it all sweaty in my jeans and t-shirt wishing I had dressed better for a walk of this size. My heart sank. I was on the opposite side of the lake from my car. All I wanted was to lie down. The people gave me dirty looks as I almost had to kiss the small posted map. I was without my reading glasses. Now I had a decision to make. Did I backtrack the way I came? Or do I continue on? At this point I had lost hope of actually finding this Fred they spoke of. But I still chose to walk the other side of the lake. Apparently, in my delusional state I thought that half way was half way any way you sliced it. But I would soon remember I was in Georgia not Iowa where this sort of logic did not exist.

I continued on the trail (7). Why was I walking away from the lake? Why couldn't I see the lake? But I saw that the path started to go back to the lake so I continued on. Walking, walking, walking. I started to feel the burn. Then my side got a stitch. Then my belly button started to hurt. O, no. I was supposed to be resting not killing myself! But what could I do? I was already, what I thought, over halfway done. I was able to see the lake again (8) so there was a glimmer of hope. Turning back would be worse. So I thought.

Soon the view of the lake was gone. I started to pull on my jeans to make it up the hill (9). I thought about stopping but then I knew I would not start again. And I was lost. Lost in my own Suburban Hell. Houses to the left and right. No lake in site. Even Dante had Virgil to guide him. Where was my guide? I thought about my phone. I could call for help. But who would I call? And the energy that I would have to spend to push the buttons was too much. With only the path to guide me I mustered the energy to move forward.

I thought of happier times, of the A/C in my new car, my comfortable bed, children playing. What children playing? I saw another sign (10). This time it was of a teeter-totter in the middle of the road with children playing on it. I took another picture. My heart sank. Here I am following and putting my trust in a path that was probably planned by the same stupid urban planners that put a piece of playground equipment in the middle of the road. Ug…stupid sadistic engineers. I hurried on hoping not to meet any of them.

Who thought a teeter-totter in the middle of the road was a good idea?

By time I reached (11) I had lost all hope. I started to look for a place to lie down and die. I would never seem my car again, my prized Beatrice.

Just when I started to fluff my death bed (12) I saw another sign. It read a street name that seemed familiar to me. Now this was only a little hope since all the names are the same with the exception of the BLV, ST, RD, addendum and what not. With the little energy I had left I carried my feeble body on. I hoped that my anguish would soon be over. And then I saw the City Hall/Library (13).

The end was near! I moved with all my power hoping not to collapse on the pavement in front of my car. I unlocked to doors and climbed in. For the first few minutes I just sat there with the A/C blowing on me. My legs were too weak to use the peddles. My multiple hour adventure was finally over. I mustered up enough energy to drive home never seeing the Fred.

You like me, you really like me!

2007-04-02T20:57:00.000-05:00

Or maybe not. Hmmm….let’s not dwell on that. In any case it has come to my attention that my blog has gone forth and gathered more readers. Now it is not just family and friends but rather other people that have no idea how crazy I really am. O and let the games begin.

I have been linked to the online local Fayette Community Newsletter. Check me out: www.fayettefrontpage.com/columns/bloglist.htm. You have to scroll down and I’m the first blog under Fun & Misc. Seems only appropriate, I always seem to be the first in the category of Fun and Miscellaneous. The caption reads “An Iowa gal moves to PTC and isn't overly fond of our neck of the woods. Fun to read!” Now I would just like to clarify that it is not the neck of the woods that I mind so much as the armpit of the woods in PTC. And really I think this poster is saying “An Iowa gal moves to PTC and look at how messed up we make her. Fun to read!” But little did the Georgians know that I have always been messed up. Anyway, it was fun to find my blog is reaching out to the natives and they are not throwing rocks. Not yet. Please, Georgians, if you spot me, don’t throw rocks at me. I can barely function by myself. No assistance necessary in the malfunctioning parts.

But it is not just the Georgians that are spotting my blog. I recently received a comment from a Derek who lives all the way in the U.K. I have no idea how they found me but hey, I don’t care. He seemed a little less then happy but really I think he just wanted to plug his own website. And since I love tosee new commenters, what the heck. Visit Derek. UK @ www.dhbruk.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk.

Anyway if you are new to the blog, welcome. I hope you enjoy the tragic-comedy that is my life. If you are not new but are not commenting, shame on you. Grr. And if you have no idea what is going on, you're in the right place. Please, feel free to comment, and remember please don’t post anything that is not for sheep ears. If you want to contact me and not the rest of the world, you can send me an email via sheep.4225sc@gmail.com.

Georgia, you win!

2007-04-01T13:05:00.001-05:00

I’ve had enough! I quit! Today I got up to go to Palm Sunday Mass and as I entered church it started to rain. I love the rain so it brought a smile to my face. Mass was long today, coming in at a total of one hour and 30 minutes. When I left church I got in to my car. As I drove home in the dreary weather, I saw the pollen that has been building up for the past few weeks become yellow swirls in the pooling water. As I came into my cal-de-sac my heart sank. Something was wrong.

My mind went to earlier that morning when I found my back door open when I woke up. Then to last night where I heard my neighbor tell the story of her car being robbed outside in her drive way. I pulled up to my driveway and saw where my font door used to be. I parked and went out. My place is completely trashed. Everything of value to me is either gone or destroyed from the rain. I have always been told that I live in the bad part of Peachtree City, but I never imagined. I mean it is Peachtree City, what crime is there, really?

Well, I won’t be living here anymore. This is the last straw! I’m packing what I have left and tomorrow I will call my company to quit my job. Georgia, you win.

Peach Pit - It's a Pit!

2007-03-21T20:37:00.000-05:00

(Click to Enlarge)

Sorry I have neglected the blog this month. I had my gall bladder out. Now I'm not as much of a peach as I used to be. :(

Sweet Home Alabama or Boone Dock Saints?

2007-03-04T15:32:00.000-05:00

I googled PTC when I moved here as any good geek would do. I got the general information, all the articles about it being a great place to live, and then I found on interesting fact. PTC was a filming place for Sweet Home Alabama. Although, when it first came out I avoided the romantic vomit like the plague, I went out and bought the movie. I put the movie in the DVD player, pushed play, and sat and watched for PTC scenes. The first screen appeared – “Not enough trees.” The second screen appeared – “Still not enough trees.” I could tell that this was going to be a long night. Finally, there was a shot of nothing but tree tops. This had to be it. And then a plane came down over the trees and landed in Peachtree Lake. Satisfied that I saw my new home town in a movie and completely dissatisfied with the movie itself, I put the movie on the shelf to collect dust. And there it sat until Oscar night.

I had just sat down to watch the Oscars with my supper and the phone rang. Grrr… I answered. It was my neighbor asking if I owned Sweet Home Alabama. Embarrassed, I said “Yes.” She asks to borrow it. So during the commercials, I jump up and grab the dusty movie. I ran out the door and then it happened. The door shut behind me. I was officially locked out of my house. Barefoot, I walked over to my neighbor’s, lent them the movie and asked them to call our landlord.

The landlord said that he would not come out and unlock the door. He suggested a lock smith. It was Sunday at 9pm in PTC. Who was going to be open? Then my landlord suggested that I come out to borrow one of his keys, although he didn’t know if he had one for my house. So I asked him how he gets into my place with out one. Apparently the keys are joy riding in his truck with his brother. Okay, great.

So at this point my landlord suggested that I come to his place and pick up a bunch of keys that may open my doors. I point out that I locked myself out, how was I supposed to get to his place in Newnan? “Can’t you get into your garage?” he asks me. Well yeah I can, but I’m not sure how to explain to the car rental place why I had to hot wire the car. So I finally ask my neighbor to give me a lift. My neighbor jumps at the chance because he didn’t want to watch that crappy movie with his wife anyway.

With hand written directions and some borrowed slippers, we are off on our adventure to Newnan. I was very dark by then. We drive through Newnan and check the directions: Drive to the “middle of no where” and “kiss your butt goodbye” and make a left. I didn’t remember seeing this place in Sweet Home Alabama. My neighbor makes a comment about getting beat up down here. I tell him to run all the stops. Then I look at the next direction. “Turn left at the corner with a church.” Gee…so specific. It is the Bible Belt and all.

Just then a critter ran across the road. “What was that!?” my neighbor exclaimed! “I think it was a cat.” I said. He thought it was a rabbit because it was kind of hopping. I said it mush have been a confused hopping cat.

It was getting even darker out and even scarier. I was just about ready to crawl in the back to get the tire iron out when we pulled up to the lane that was marked in the directions. It was too scary for words. You couldn’t see a house or any light from the road. The truck’s headlights shown on the many uninviting trees. A large cast iron gate guarded the property. My landlord must have purchased it from an Addams’ Family movie sale. We sat there looking at the property and at each other. We had come all this way but neither of us wanted to go up. We called the landlord and he tells us to come up. We muster up enough courage and the truck slowly crept up the long windy lane.

Finally we see the house. The landlord comes out and hands me about 20-25 keys. He tells me that he doesn’t know what key goes to which of his rental properties. Great, now I have all the keys to his places. Hmmm…time for one quick robbery? NO! We need to get out of this twilight zone! I thanked my landlord and we high tailed it out of there.

We start reading the directions backwards. All of a sudden, “What the h*ll is that!” Up a head there was something sitting in the middle of the road. We get closer. It is a possum! It was the biggest possum I have ever seen in my entire life! We got closer. The possum didn’t budge. It was so big it looked like it could eat a Mac truck. My neighbor’s little truck didn’t stand a chance. The possum was staring us down and it was winning. It had a “you don’t belong here” look on its face. Or maybe that was just a constipated look. Either way, I didn’t want to stick around to find out. We swerved and almost hit the ditch. Over the tracks…as long as we could get over the tracks we should be saved. As we went over, I saw a light on the tracks. My neighbor saw it too but he didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was. In a complete miracle we found our way out and back to the safety of PTC.

Now, I have 25 keys. Which one, if any, will unlock my door? I felt like I was on the Price is Right. I try the first one. It opens the door! I won! I won my cold supper! YEAH!!! I thank my neighbor and he was just happy he made it there and back alive. And more importantly, he didn’t have to watch that stupid movie.

Deal or No Deal?

2007-03-01T20:30:00.000-05:00

As a result of my unfortunate event with the prehistoric woman that destroyed my car, I was forced to hunt for a new mode of transportation for me and the Sleepy Sheepy Resort. I was less than ecstatic to spend my nights and weekends talking to used car dealers. But I took one for the team and went.

For the first hunt, I went to the Morrow GMC and Toyota dealerships. I dressed appropriately in jeans, a Killer Bunny t-shirt, and College of Engineering hat. I figured the less girly the better for dealing with these cut throats. I pulled up in the GMC parking lot. Before I was able to turn off my ignition, there was the first dealer standing at my door. I was able to take him by surprise as I pulled up in a new Mazda 6 (my rental), but that quickly wore off. He asked me what I wanted in a car, and I was very clear. “I want a car that has 6 cylinders and big windows I can see out of.” Hmmm…he started to show me the new line of Mazda. At each car I would say, “The windows are a little small, is this a 6 cylinders engine?” He would say, “Hmm…let me look, no, but wouldn’t you look great in this?” As my patience wore thin, I finally got him to the used car section and even got to drive a car. A real car! I was a Pontiac sedan and I hated it. Then I drove a Pontiac Vibe and liked the car but still couldn’t see. I left the lot THREE HOURS later extremely dissatisfied with my experience. I wanted to go home but made myself continue the hunt next door.

The Toyota dealership was a complete zoo. There was no place to park. I drove around trying to find a parking spot while dodging the people walking around. Finally I was able to park and walk around a little before a man approached me. I said very directly, “I want to drive that Ford Taurus and that Toyota Matrix.” The sales man got the keys and gave me the Matrix car keys. I was a little confused as the GMC dealer would not let me drive the car out of the parking spaces. But I took it and we were off. The dealer noticed my hat and told me he went to Iowa State for Civil Engineering. Small world I guess. I was very polite and I wondered how you go from one of the top engineering schools to a used car dealer. I liked the Matrix a lot.

The Ford drove poorly. I was surprised at the poor shape it was in, but I really was just looking. The window said $390. I asked what that meant and was told it was the monthly payments. “O, how many months?” I asked. The dealer did not know, we had to ask the banker. Okay, it was a game like Deal or No Deal, I got it. So we went to talk to the banker. This slick talker came up and poured on the charm. However, I asked him a million different ways and never got the price of the car. Finally, when he asked me what I wanted to spend I left. I didn’t like that game.

Then next hunt was at CarMax in Morrow. The dealer there was a physics major. Wow, lots of smart people selling used cars. I drove a few cars, liked the place but nothing in the lot really caught my eye.

The next weekend I went to Newnan to the Ford and Toyota dealerships. This time I decided to go to the movies after car shopping so dressed a little nicer and did my hair. I figured I could brave the wild in style. It was just a big stereotype of car dealers, right? At the Ford dealer I walked the entire lot and never was approached. I had to go into the store where about 10 old men were. Standing there for a while I had to ask for someone to help me. NO one jumped but I finally got someone to let me test drive a sedan. Only one though. No more than that. But the dealer did show me the nice extra roomy glove compartment. Wasn’t that sweet of him? I was really trying hard not to physically harm the dealers.

The Toyota dealer was nice and let me drive another Matrix. I was hooked. But I really liked Carmax. So I looked on line to order a Matrix. I found one, went to order, sold. Found another, went to order, sold. And again. FINALLY, I got one. I reeled it in all the way from Miami.

It was love a first sight. Now I just had to arm wrestle the bank and choke hold the old lady’s insurance company and the car was mine. Yup, my very own 2003 Toyota Matrix. Partially loaded. You know it has an engine, a chassis, and rear defrost. Jesse really liked it. We went for a drive to see how the new wheels of the Sleepy Sheepy Resort handled. It got 2 hoofs up.

Jesse taking the Resort's new car out for a spin. (Click to enlarge)

Now if I can just keep this car in one piece. People are always trying to hit me. I think people are told that they get better gas mileage if they don’t use the blinker. Or maybe they just don’t know what it is. No driver’s education required to drive. So hopefully I will survive the crazy drivers of the roads.

When Old Women Attack - 2

2007-02-19T21:52:00.000-05:00

Okay to make that long equation into a word problem. (I know engineers, stop cringing. It will be okay.)

It was a bright and sunny day in Georgia. I had just finished lunch at my home and was taking the “scenic” route back to work. Minding my own business, I was brutally attacked by an escaped older woman. Well okay, let me start again. That seemed a little vague and evil (more vague than evil).

Like I said I was driving back to work. I was almost there when all of a sudden a car appeared out of nowhere in front of me. I slammed on the brakes but it was no use. The car was only about 2 feet away from my car when it pulled out in front of it. I crashed into the side of the darkly painted Camry. My driver and passenger side airbags deployed. The passenger side bag shattered my windshield. The car filled with smoke and the horn blared uncontrollably. I sat there wondering what had just happed, why that car just darted in front of me, why it was smoking in the car, and what I should do next. I started to cough hysterically from the smoke. I came to my sense and got out of the car.

My eyes followed from my door up to my crinkled hood and my demolished bumper. Then to the other car. The driver was an prehistoric lady that looked as stunned as I did. When she saw me out of my car she attempted to leave hers. However, being that I T-boned her right into the driver side door, her efforts to open it were futile. Finally, she crawled over to the passenger side door where I meet her. I asked her if she was okay, and she said yes. Then she asked me if I was okay, and I said yes. Then she looked at me and said, “Did I stop?” To which I was so stunned and wanted to say “well you have now, honey” but I behaved myself. Then I got to listen to a constant stream of her telling me that the intersection was a bad one.

The less then youthful lady pulled out her phone. I asked her if she was going to call the police. To which she said she didn’t know the number. “911?” I answered but she had already started dialing her husband. I thought that I should have someone come too. But who? I have just moved and I know no one. I thought about calling my friend that was at my house, but he had no wheels. Then I thought I had to call my bosses because they would be expecting me at work any minute. Then I called the police but being new, I didn’t know the name of the road that the slightly younger than dirt lady was on. And being it was Peachtree City I couldn’t find a street sign amongst the trees. Apparently, someone had called it in and the police car pulled up.

Both of us were shuffled into the back of the ambulance where they tested her blood pressure and then mine. The medic said that he would take my pressure over my coat. Knowing that would be worthless, I took my coat off anyway. The police officer came in and asked me for my licenses. As I was digging in my purse another medic asks me to fill out some information. I start to do that, and the police officer starts to tell the fossilized woman where our cars were being towed. I needed to hear this but I was filling out the form and trying to find my purse. Not surprising my blood pressure was through the roof. Not that being in a car accident, moving around, and writing with the same arm as the blood purse machine was on would have anything to do with a 157/97. The medic was very concerned but didn’t do anything. (Just for the record, I just had a 120/80 from the doctor last week.)

The police asked us for our statements. The cavewoman said that she came to the intersection and stopped at her stop sign and then went but didn’t see me. I said “yes, she pulled right in front of me.” To which the mature woman said “well, well she was speeding!” The cop looked at her and said “how do you know she was speeding if you didn’t see her?” To which the prehistoric woman said to the cop, “how do you know she wasn’t if you weren’t even here!?” Yes, I need not talk at all she was doing a fine job digging her own hole. Needless to say, she was sited for failing to yield to on coming traffic. I was not faulted at all. Now I am driving a Mazda that her insurance company is paying for.

Evening Trip to Coldstone

2007-02-18T23:03:00.000-05:00

With the recent demise of Ms. Peach's car it has become necessary for a guest to fill in the blog until she can locate a new permanent mode of transportation. In acknowledgement, it seemed only appropriate to reminisce about one of the last eventful trips taken in said car. Below contains the events as remembered during the author's visit to Peachtree City.

The events actually started the day before when during an exploratory trip to Newnan the fearless pair (Ms Peach and Mr. Hawkeye) managed to successfully locate a movie theatre, which was conveniently located next to a Cold Stone Creamery. Well after a mere 24 hours of dreaming about the ice cream, Ms. Peach declared that the evening's plans would include a trip to Cold Stone Creamery.

That evening Ms. Peach and Mr. Hawkeye bounded out the door and up the driveway to the the Mystique always wondering what mystery might be in store for them tonight. They pulled out of the neighborhood and onto the main road running through PTC. Ms. Peach informed Mr. Hawkeye to keep a look out for Cold Stone located somewhere on the right. Not thinking much about it, Mr. Hawkeye delightfully gazed out the window almost tasting the tantalizing ice cream already. Seconds became minutes and Mr. Hawkeye realized that there was no Cold Stone in PTC but instead he would have to survive the drive to Newnan (waiting 15 minutes must be like Chinese water torture when it involves Cold Stone). During this wait it occurs to Mr. Hawkeye that Cold Stone is located on the left hand side of the street, not the right. He very meekly brought this point up to Ms. Peach who very politely informed him that he should remove his foot from his mouth as he was clearly wrong and Cold Stone would be on the right. Mr. Hawkeye is not known for his sense of direction so he politely accepted the statement of Ms. Peach and went back to dreaming of ice cream.

As the pair began to approach the shopping district in Newnan, Mr. Hawkeye realized that all the stores were in fact on the left hand side as he had remembered. So once again he suggested to Ms. Peach that she switch lanes in preparation for taking a left turn into the shopping district. This time Ms. Peach verbally assaulted him asserting that saying Cold Stone was on the left was akin to suggesting the sun rose in the West. Well after a heated confrontation, in which Mr. Hawkeye tried to point out the Chili's where the pair had an eventful lunch the previous afternoon, he sulked into his chair to lick his wounds.

Before long Mr. Hawkeye was vindicated as Ms. Peach realized her error and begrudgingly anointed Mr. Hawkeye king as he so deserved. So you readers may ask where is the death defying story…this is after all a tale of ways that GA is out to kill Ms. Peach. Well here come the fateful events.

Not be sufficiently prepared to turn left, the duo had to make a U-turn (yes perfectly legal, in fact almost encouraged in the state of GA) to back track and head towards the Cold Stone. Headed in the proper direction (and now with Cold Stone on the right side…maybe Ms. Peach was planning this all along…intervesting [strokes pointed beard]) Ms. Peach turns into the entrance for the movie theatre.

The car had traveled no more than 5 feet before the payment gave way to a dirt parking lot filled with car smashing boulders and car eating divots. Mr. Hawkeye was trembling in fear thinking his life would end without even getting to enjoy Cold Stone one last time. Well somehow, Ms. Peach fearlessly navigated the craggy "parking lot" and got the pair back to the main road. However, as they waited another car prepared to turn into the same obis. Sadly, the pair was not able to sufficiently alert this other car in sufficient time and to this day they are not sure whether the car's occupants have been heard from.

When Old Women Attack - 1

2007-02-09T21:40:00.000-05:00

Known:

Mercury Mystique mass = 1273.7 kg
delta X = 1 meter
Vxi = 30 miles/hours
Vxf = 0 miles/hours
t = ?

Conversions:

1 mile = 1 kilometer
1000 meters = 1 kilometer
60 seconds = 1 minute
60 minutes = 1 hour
30 miles/hours = 13.40833 meters/second

Equations:

delta X = (1/2)(Vxf – Vxi)t
delta X = (Vxf)t + (1/2)at^2
F = ma

1) t = ?

delta X = (1/2)(Vxf – Vxi)t
1 meter = (1/2)(13.40833 meters/second)t
t = 0.149 second

2) a = ?

delta X = (Vxf)t + (1/2)at^2
1 meter = (13.40833 meters/second)(0.149seconds) + (1/2)a(0.149seconds)^2
a = -89.89 meters/second^2

3) F = ?

F = ma
F = (1273.7 kg)( -89.89 meters/second^2)
F = 114494.8694 N

Or
F = 25,738.45 lb

That is the force I hit her. She walked away. Imagine the force if I was going 50 miles/hours like she says I was. Confused? Wait for new post.

Food Shopping

2007-01-30T23:14:00.000-05:00

Click on comic to enlarge.

How Many Maintenance Men Does it Take to Change a Light Bulb?

2007-01-27T14:17:00.000-05:00

Recently I have gone on a business trip to Florida. My flight back to Georgia was scheduled for 4:50 to 6:30 pm. As we sat at the gate waiting to board we saw all the passages get off the plane at the normal 4:15. 4:30 rolls around and we should be boarding. The screen still says that our flight is on time and the plane is there so no worries. 4:40 comes and goes and then 4:50. But no worries because the screen still says the flight is on time. It is in the 5 o’clock hour and someone gets on the intercom and informs the passengers that a light has been cracked and it will be a half hour before the maintenance man can get there to change it. But it will only take about 10 minutes to change. We wait, other flights board and leave. We wait 30 minutes. No maintenance man. We wait, another 10 minutes. The intercom blares, “Airtran to Atlanta: maintenance is here so it should only be a few more minutes. If you look out the window you can see maintenance working.” 10 minutes later, we wait. Looking out the window it seems like there are just a bunch of men meandering around. We wait and wait.

Finally, the intercom says they are going to start boarding. A line has formed in front of the door. I walk up and the intercom blares “We are now boarding Zone 1 for Atlanta.” I’m Zone 1, I look at the line. No one is moving. I ask the first person in line if they are Zone 1. No, no one is. I surpass the line and am the first one on board. I find my seat and sit down. The seat is exceedingly slanted. I switch the cushion with the one next to it. It is still slanted. I switch it back. The seat also has a big space between the cushion and the back. I joke with my colleague that I’m going to end up ripping my britches on my seat before the flight is over. No one else is boarding. It takes about 20 minutes to get everyone on the plane. The plane is only about a quarter of the way full.

After take off, which was after the time when we were supposed to land, I decide that I cannot sit in a crooked seat for the entire flight. As soon as I get a chance I jump up and snag a seat in the front row of coach. I sit. The seat is wet. I can’t get out because I am now getting asked what I want to drink and the fasten seatbelt sign was still on. As soon as the stewards turned to get my drink I jumped up and ran back to my nice dry slanted seat.

The pilot must have had a thing about staying at the same altitude. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster instead of an airplane. But it was okay because soon enough the pilot informs us that he has started his decent. I mutter under my breath “no sh@$” as it was clear by the nose dive the plane was in. The flight intercom then states “We will be landing soon. Please, put your seats in their full and upright position, tray tables locked, and fasten your seatbelt.” I fasten my seat belt and it breaks. I laugh with shear disbelief. Amazing we landed and got off the plane with out dying. It was only an hour and a half later then when we were supposed to land. What a great first business trip.

Slueth

2007-01-22T22:13:00.000-05:00

It was a dark and stormy night; a murder had been committed at the Sleepy Sheepy Resort. The victim was still missing. The weapon left smoke but was unfound. There were no witnesses. Erin was in the den watching television. She rose to go to the kitchen. Opening the door, she was bombarded with a strong smoke smell.

Erin entered the kitchen. The kitchen had a stove, refrigerator, dishwasher, and a sink. There was a large kitchen table. Erin’s reading glasses were on the table. A small candle sat on the kitchen table as well. Erin picked up her reading glasses. Detective Erin examined the candle. The candle was never lit. Detective Erin examined the stove. The stove was a gas stove. All 3 pilot lights were lit.

The detective entered the living room. The living room had a couch, a love seat, and an overstuffed chair surrounding a fireplace. Detective Erin examined the fireplace. The fireplace had a log that was not burnt.

The work room was then entered. A washer and dryer sat in the middle of the room. A small water heat is in the corner. Detective Erin examined the water heater. The heater’s pilot light was lit.

Detective Erin left the house. The neighbor had just arrived home. The detective questioned the neighbor. “I have been away all night. There is no smoke in my house,” said the neighbor.

The detective reentered the resort. She entered the bedroom. A large bed was in the middle of the room. The detective examined it. She fell asleep.

The next day Erin was in the kitchen and started to unload the dishwasher. Dun, dun, dun!!! There in the dishwasher was a poor slotted spoon that had fallen off the rake and to its death by the heating coil below. Stumpy has lived a long and happy life. At the age of 4 he became length impaired. At Sleepy Sheepy Resort, we encourage stumpy to continue with his cooking tasks even though he is a little short. We encourage work regardless of the deficiency.

The Crime Scene

Poor Stumpy

Peach Pit - Lonely Sole

2007-01-21T15:08:00.000-05:00

Click on comic to enlarge.

Go Chris Mac, GO!

2007-01-16T22:04:00.000-05:00

We must not forget that part of this blog is to promote the newly open resort. Erin’s Sleepy Sheepy Resort is having a fairly good turn out considering the location. Thus far, there was one guest in December who stayed only for a short visit. Then there was a guest who stayed in January for sometime. Unfortunately, I had to pay and beg her to come and then she posted that awful post that just came before this when I was knocked out. Now I have one reservation in February and some more potentials.

So to kick this resort in the bud, I’m offering a little bit more. For February there will be sheep races. I know they don’t look very sleepy now but just wait until March when they raced all February. Or when the sheep switch positions. Not sure how D.J. is going to be able to carry Jesse but D.J. has spunk. It will be fun. Book your reservations today before we are all filled up!

Go Sheepy! (Photo by Rick Turner of Devon)

muahaha

2007-01-11T01:17:00.000-05:00

Erin's a fool for not logging out of her accounts and letting me sleep in the same room as her computer. I wonder what else she hasn't logged out of....Steph goes exploring....

Peach Pit - Drive Through

2007-01-04T20:36:00.000-05:00

Click on comic to enlarge.

Monster Bride

2007-01-02T20:46:00.000-05:00

As some may have notice I have not posted in a while. You see, although I die in Georgia sometimes I am called away to other states. It appears that Georgia is not the only thing that is trying to kill me. Recently (as some of you also know) my brother got married. And as Cinderella’s dad married an evil woman so too has my brother married a Monster Bride who has tried to kill me at every turn. I dedicate this post to her who has requested a new post about everyday that I have not.

O, this bride seemed so innocent at first but it became apparent that she was up to no good soon enough. She didn’t even wait to after the marriage before she started to abuse me. The first instance was when we were getting our picture taken for the wedding. The Monster Bride, a.k.a. Karin Marie NOT to be confused with Erin Marie, tried to kill me by bashing my face in with the butt of her bouquet. Besides the horror of the multiple bashing of my forehead, the water from the stems made my makeup wet.

The wedding proceeded despite the bride’s brutality. During the entire wedding I could feel my feet going numb. I would normally blame the shoes but I have worn them before with no problems. I don’t know how but I am sure that was the bride's fault.

The reception was no different. The bridesmaids were forced to scurry to the reception hall to prepare the way of the bride. Once there the bride continually scared the bridesmaids in front of everyone!

Monster Bride scaring helpless bridesmaid

Then it was time for the bouquet toss. Being an eligible person of the female persuasion, I took my place among all the others for the traditional flower rumble. Taking the customary wide stances in my dress to prepare myself for the untamed havoc that would soon arise. I saw the bride make eye contact with me. She turned her back and then the next thing I knew the flowers were barreling at my face with a force so great I could not believe. I put my hands up to grab the bouquet but I was too late. The flowers had smacked me in the face and bounced to the floor where savages grappled to retrieve the bouquet.

Being that there were many people at this wedding I was able to steer clear of the bride for a while. That was until the dance floor. We met again. I tried not to show fear and continue dancing. Despite my best efforts, the bride could see my fear and head butted me. I held my head in pain. My dancing did not improve.

Finally, the wedding was over and I was able to escape with my life still intact. Unfortunately, the nightmare of the sister-in-law begins. Will I survive the next family function? We shall see.

Sever Weather for Georgia

2006-12-11T19:23:00.000-05:00

The other night when I was lying in bed listening to my poor furnace run constantly, I wished that the buildings in Georgia had better insulation. Scratch that, I wished that the building had any insulation. I considered crawling out of bed to get another blanket from the closet but then realized that I would have to move. Moving was not in the program so I thought that maybe if I farted I would get warmer. But in reality it really was not that cold and it sure didn't stop me from falling asleep.

The next day I found out that the state of Georgia was under "Sever Weather." The "cold Attic air" was causing the temp to "fall into the teens and 20s." Who would have thought? This was going to be the "coldest night so far" for some areas this season. And the warning ended with always good advice: "residents across North and Central Georgia are encouraged to take appropriately protective actions against the extremely cold temperatures."

Just in case you don't understand the severity of my situation here is Georgia let me tell you the circumstances that I was in when I read this Sever Weather Warning. I was sitting at my desk wearing a three quarter length sleeved t-shirt and jean jacket that I had put on that morning. The temperature was 34 degrees and there very day I turned off the A/C in my car. I know, I know it is all very scary to me too. But please do not worry about me during these "extremely cold temperatures." I will survive, I hope. Please, consider the freezing people in Georgia who don't know what a coat is or insulation. But there is hope. The weekend before Christmas will be int he 60s. To bad I will be in Iowa.

Peach Pit - Can Redemption

2006-12-10T15:17:00.000-05:00

Click on comic to enlarge.

Poor Closet

2006-12-07T20:29:00.001-05:00

I figured out what was wrong with my closet. Ever since I have moved in, I have been comparing my huge closet to my freshman dorm room. Being that they are roughly the same size. It must have heard me and felt like it needed to be more like my dorm room to make me happy. Well unfortunately, my freshman room was also trying to kill me all first semester. You see back then (and probably still) there were large amounts of asbestos in the ceilings of Daum Residence Hall. As I slept at night, the ceiling paint would fall in my face. After about 4 months I finally got the Hall Coordinator to get some asbestos removal men to fix my room. They had come once before but decided that my room was “much worse than originally informed” and they “were not prepared to fix such a large problem at that time.” So they just left. Yes, go them. Anyway they finally came and fixed the problem. If I get to a scanner I will show you the pictures. So I guess I should stop comparing my closet to my dorm room. Maybe… (View original post for picture of the Huge Closet.)

Peach Pit - Airport Parking 1

2006-12-07T19:46:00.000-05:00

Click on comic to enlarge.

Beware the Closet, BEWARE!

2006-12-04T21:02:00.000-05:00

As many of you may have noticed by know that most of my stories of me barely escaping death occur at work. Now you may wonder why I keep going back to such a dangerous place. Instead, maybe I should just stay in my safe and cozy home. But o no, home is not as safe as it may seem.

When I was shopping for a new home in Peachtree city I looked at houses, condos, duplexes, apartments, and anything else with four walls, a floor, and a roof. I decided on this dream duplex. It has two patios, a fire place, two bedrooms, a kitchen with 27 cabinets, and a closet. Not just your regular closet or those walk in closets. This closet is the closet of all closets. It is literally bigger then my freshman dorm room. I could do a cartwheel in my closet (if I could do a cartwheel). And the place was the cheapest of all the places I looked at. I had found my new perfect home for my new perfect life in Georgia. At least that is what I thought. No one could have expected what was going to happen next.

I loved my closet. I fit ALL my clothes, shoes, and packed life with still ¾ of it being empty. Like any extremely prim and proper young lady that lives by herself, I kept the house spotless. Well, okay I did put one of my t-shirts on the new wicker basket I bought and put in my Huge Closet for my socks. The t-shirt sat there for a long time, after all there was plenty of room, no need to pick up when you could still see the floor. But then my closet decided to make its move. I walked into my closet and move my t-shirt and saw powder. That’s right powder. It looked like a line of coke that I tried to wipe up with my shirt. Had I moved into a drug dealing closet home?

After closer inspection, I discovered that the powder had come off my shirt. The paint that was used for the t-shirt print had come off and turned to powder. I was stunned, but then I decided that it must have been a poorly made t-shirt and that the wicker basket must have rubbed off the print some how. I went on with my life unaware of the true horror that lurked in my closet.

A few weeks later, I was moving my priceless peace of art into the large closet. Yes, that is right my Starry Night by VanGogh. As I carried it into the freakishly large closet, I kicked my pair of flip flops to move them to make room for the painting. And there it was. Powder.

My poor powdered shoes (click on picture to see the powder up close and personal)

My shoes had turned to powder! My plastic shoes now powder. What can this be!! At first I was scared that there was chemical in my house, or maybe bugs, or maybe that powder pooping monster that found me after all these years. I thought I got rid of that monster when my family moved out of that house when I was 3. But there it was, powder. What was causing my clothing to turn to powder?

Then I realized that my powder turning closet may not be a bad thing. I could sell it as a new diet plan. That’s right! Step right up folks turn that wide @$$ of yours to powder! Then I thought of all those poor girls that fell asleep in the tanning booth and looked like an oompa-loompa when they woke up. Could I take the liability of the death by powder closet? I’m too young for jail! Then I realized, I sleep by that closet, every night!

What have I done!? I have moved into the home of the Powder Closet! Like so many twilight stories before me, I am trapped. Maybe not in the tv where cartoon characters are trying to kill me but worse. I’m stuck in a year lease. Please, do not talk too loudly, the closet might hear you. If anyone knows a good priest that performs exorcisms, please help me. Shh, I think the closet is waking.

The Huge Closet

Peachtree City Drift

2006-12-02T20:31:00.001-05:00

Tucked away behind the forest of trees is a small Georgia town where children play, no one locks their doors, and there is a church on every corner. It seems like the perfect place to live. In fact, it has been ranked the 8th best place to live in America. However, is this southern town's appearance too good to be true? Is there a dark community secret that is lurking under the surface? On the exterior, the community of Pearchtree City drives golf carts to help the environment and encourage the laid back southern atmosphere. However, it has because apparent that Peachtree City has a band of hooligans that are drag racing golf carts. That's right, supping up golf carts to race them on the back trails of the forests. These racers have only the spoils of victory in their minds, fame, girls, and the loser's cart. But what happens when the trail is not there? Today, one innocent bystander found out. Erin witnessed the horrors of golf cart racing gone wrong. She was working and outside a band of ruffians in two golf carts tore past her window. However, little did the teens know that the cart trail entry was not located at Erin's office parking lot but rather in the lot over. The two carts came to a screeching halt. Bits of cart tire became fused to the pavement. The carts became inches apart from colliding into each other. The gang quickly looked around leery of getting caught by the local law enforcement. Finding the all clear, the hooligans tore out of the parking lot. They were lucky this time no one got hurt, but what happens next time? The trails can be a dark and dangerous place when a driver tips his cart. So next time you drive through Peachtree City, lock your doors for there could be dangerous cart racing going on right on the other side of a tree.

When it Rains it Pours

2006-12-01T18:25:00.000-05:00

When I started my new job in Georgia, I was given an office with a wall of windows. It is really 3 windows that take up about 95% of the wall. They placed my L shaped desk next to the window wall. Thus, I can always look out the window to the parking lot just by looking up. Because of my nice view, one of my first responsibilities was to inform everyone when it rained so that they could close their car windows. Unfortunately, I failed miserably at this task. This caused me to become worried because some of the other workers would yell at me, tell me that I was fired, and maybe even given the occasional threat. Now in the rainy season of Georgia, it rains every day at exactly 3:30. (Really I even tried to get an office pool going about the rain time, but no one would take my bet.) I tried to tell everyone just to close their windows at 3:29:59 but that seemed not to work.

Fearing the retaliation of my coworkers that insisted on having their windows rolled down, I set out to be sure to know what was going on outside. This was an unusual day. When I arrived all the cars that were normally parked at the end of the parking lot by my windows were parked farther away. I thought nothing of it besides thinking it was odd. All morning, I looked outside for rain. Even though I knew it would not rain until 3:30 that afternoon. But then I heard a noise. Normally it is very quite where I work. (except for the tap dancing elephants in the office above me.) The noise became louder and I realized that it was a helicopter. And then it just kept getting louder and louder. Pretty soon I could see the helicopter from my windows. And it kept getting closer and closer. I was intrigued by the helicopter and wondering where it was going. Then I realized it was coming right at me! It was landing in our little parking lot right next to my window.

I felt the windows bowing because of the large gusts of wind that the blades were creating as it got closer. BANG! BANG! BANG! I’m in a war zone! Holy cow! The blades started to shoot rocks from the parking lot at my wall of windows! All I could think of was that the glass was going to break and I would have a rock hit me, go through my frontal lobe and exit out the back of my skull. I wouldn’t even have a chance to yell, “I’ve been hit!” It would be all over for me. And then my lifeless body would be pelted with more rocks and glass shards from the walls of windows leaving my body unrecognizable.

They would surly cremate my body due to the massive physical damage and wanting to take me back to Iowa. The night before on the news was the trial of a woman who had started a crematorium and was not cremating the bodies. Large unmarked graves were dug up on her property with masses of bodies. O, I don’t want to die in Georgia!

O good, the helicopter had landed by this time. I have survived the attack and felt like sharing. So I walked into the other office with all the other employees and told them that it was not raining but there was a helicopter in the parking lot. They did not seem to care. Apparently it is okay for a helicopter to land on their cars just as long as it doesn’t rain in them.

Later I talked to my boss who also has a wall of windows right next to mine. She told me she worries about the blades getting caught in something and getting torn off and hitting the windows and building.

Now that helicopter still comes by ever once and a while, so I am not out of the clear yet. I fell like Radar from MASH. I am the poor little Iowan that hears the chopper first and tells people. And then I get to watch everyone run out and move their cars. (Of course I never park my car close because there is always the chance that a chopper will land next to it or on it.) So sadly, there is still a possibility of a lobotomy. So, please, if I should die at work, please, do not cremate me.

Bring Back My Bell To Me, To Me!

2006-11-30T20:17:00.000-05:00

I know this is not a death story about GA but it does have dangerous aspects and the sheep of the Erin's Sleepy Sheepy Resort fully support my detour. So deal with it, it is a serious matter.

As some of you may or may not know the GROK lab stole my life force a few months back. Yes that is right, my bell. (moment of silence). I realized my bell was gone after a very dangerous and deadly three round drag out, grip taking, floor rolling, chair crashing, wrestling match that I found myself not victorious. I had almost given up hope until today when Beth gave me the opportunity to regain my rightful place as bell owner.

She wrote “I think the ransom [of my beloved bell] should be based on who can write the best parody song (music of your choice) utilizing the words: Kris, bell, GROK, sheep, Geb, t'was (or other similarly underused contraction), and kumquat”

Here is my winning entry:

Twas the night before December 16, and all through the lab
Not a creature was stirring, not even an undergrad.
The boobs were drying in the basement with care,
In hopes that Geb soon would be there.

The grad students were grumpy all shrugged at their desks,
While visions of video games danced on their screens.
And Justin in his jacket, and I in my cap,
Had just lost our brains in the long-winded class.

When over on Kris's desk there came such a ring,
I sprang from the desk to see what it could be.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the candy drawer and threw up in the trash.

His hand on the breast of the new-dried silicon
"Hey Mikey keep your crap in the basement below!"
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature silver looking sphere.

With a little old dinger, so lively and loud,
I knew in a moment it must be MY BELL!
More quickly than eagles his Hellions came,
And Kris whistled, and ran, and I shouted them by name!

"Now Justin! now, Jamie! now, Mikey and Beth!
Come On! Come On! Give my bell back!
To the top of the filing cabinets! to the bottom of the book case!
Come back! Come back! Don't make me get my mace!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof top terrace
The awkward silence of undergrads sitting on their derriereious
As I drew in my head a picture of a tortured lab,
And they came, the kids that were bad.

They were dressed all in mischief, from their heads to their toes,
Ringing my poor, poor little bell.
I want it back and am sick of the story.
So just give me my bell or else I'll make you watch Maury.

So vote for me, bell owner extraordinaire and a pretty dam good poem writer if I must say. Thank you for your support.

Peachtree City - Here I Come!

2006-11-28T19:40:00.000-05:00

My first introduction to Peachtree City, Georgia was last July (2006). I flew in first class down to interview with the consulting company. After about 30 minutes of talking, arguing, fighting, and walking and driving in circles I finally got out my rental convertible from the rental lot. As I was driving my nice rental down the interstate, I noticed that the hood of the convertible was only half attached. There I was driving on a 6 lane interstate in a company rental car using my right hand to steer and my left hand keeping the top from flying off. I started to imagine a semi whipping around me creating a strong wind sending the convertible top flying into the traffic behind me and throwing the rental car in a uncontrollable spin in all 6 lanes causing one of the most deadliest accidents in the history of the automobile. Just then my attention was redirected to my ringing phone. Which happened to be in my bag on the passenger side floor. I looked at my bag and it stopped ringing. It rang again and then again. Some how I managed to hold the hood, stay in my lane (the third lane) and answer the phone that was in my bag. It was the man I was going to interview with. He was worried because I was late from getting the convertible. After hanging up I see my salvation, a liquor store. I pulled in and put the hood on correctly. Then I drove through the town and found myself in the middle of a heavily forested area. I became very worried. The GPS unit that I received with the rental was not working. I realized that I was lost in the woods and that I may never see my friends, family, or anyone else ever again. Once, my tank ran out I would be stranded in the woods and attracted by the many different bugs that are native to Georgia. Then I realized that I had one option for survival. I called the interviewer. Luckily, he knew exactly where I was. I was right in down town Peachtree City. I finally got there and after an interesting supper with the interviewer he drove me around to "show" me the town. He would say "to your left is the Staples" and "up here is the steak house" and such. Unfortunately, I had to point out that all I could see was trees. He realized that I was right and gave up on the tour.

I'm pretty sure there is housing behind that tree
on the right. At least that is where I sleep.

Despite the fact that the town is hiding behind a forest and that I almost died twice in a 6 hour time frame, I decide to take the job. And thus started my journey to the great state of death....um..Georgia!

Thanks Karin!

2006-11-27T22:37:00.000-05:00

Thanks Karin for setting up this blog for me. The next few post will be past stories of the last 4 months of Georgia. It should be good. Tune in later for another post!

Test

2006-11-26T00:10:00.001-05:00

Here is a test post.