Real Life Between The Seeeeester-In-Loves

Texts between my sister-in-love and myself:

Lisa: Do you know much about yours and Scott’s genealogy?

Me:  Not really.  Wilbur (our uncle) has done all the work on Mom’s side.

Me:  Why?

Lisa:  Looking to see if there is anything that will help Nick in college admissions.

Me:  Hmmmmm.  Other than his aunt is a rock star in her own mind?

Lisa:  Yeah....couldn’t find a place for that one on here.

I love ThatLisaGirl.  That girl flat cracks me up.

RuhRoh

I'm traveling to yet another conference, and haven't been posting, but thought this was funny.

Divorce vs Murder

A nice, calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy, walked up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, "I'd like to buy some cyanide." 

The pharmacist asked, "Why in the world do you need cyanide?"  The lady replied, "I need it to poison my husband." 
 

The pharmacist's eyes got big and he explained, "Lord have mercy! I can't give you cyanide to kill your husband, that's against the law? I'll lose my license! They'll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!"

The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist's wife.

The pharmacist looked at the picture and said, "Well you didn't tell me you had a prescription.”

Ju Got Tween Seester In Beaumont?

Yesterday, I flew to Houston. We have few flight options from beautiful Midland, so sometimes, you have to get creative to get the schedule you want.  My options for leaving Midland in the morning in order to make a noon meeting?

Continental:  Leave at 5:10 a.m., Arrive at 6:40 a.m. at IAH.

Ummm, no.  Thank you.

Southwest:  Leave at 8:40 a.m., Arrive at 10:00 a.m. at HOU.

Yes.  Much better.

And then, I booked my return flight on Continental, which would be closer to our corporate office.

Since I was arriving 30 minutes from my destination, I decided to taxi to our office and forgo the car rental.  Arranged with a coworker to drop me back off at IAH after our meeting.

And here, the story begins, in the taxi line at Hobby Airport.

Taxi Stand Worker: Where you go!  WHERE YOU GO!!!

Me:  Aldine Westfield

Taxi Stand Worker: You stay right here. RIGHT HERE!

Me:  (I’ve not moved.)Yes, sir. (Dang.  He needs a hug.)

Taxi Stand Worker: You! Get in taxi! GET IN! Get in!  (Yanks open door.)

Me: Ummmm...thank you!  (Clambering into mini van back seat, trying to hurry so I won’t get in any more trouble, which makes for, I’m sure, a beautiful sight.)

We drive off.

Me:  Good morning!

Taxi Driver:  Good morning. Where we go?

Me:  Aldine Westfield, please.

Taxi Driver:  Where is that?  I no remember.

Me: (Oh, shit. Just my luck. In the one town that totally jacks me up direction-wise.)  If I remember correctly, it’s off Hardy Toll Road around Rankin Rd.  Not far from IAH.

Taxi Driver:  Yes.

We drive off.  I start breathing a little easier.

He gets out this white trash bag.  Did I tell y’all he’s driving?  We’re rocketing down Telephone Road and he’s unwrapping something out of this large, kitchen size white trash bag.  Twisted at the top trash bag.  

I’m starting to get a little nervous about what’s in that sucker.

And out he pulls.....his GPS.

Taxi Driver:  Ju know address?

Me:  Ummm, yes.  17015 Aldine Westfield.

Taxi Driver:  (starts trying to turn on gps, weaving all over the road)

Me:  (I guess a pre-trip safety meeting’s out of the question, since we’re already somewhere bound.)  (Praying.  Poof. Get wisdom.) Sir - would you like for me to operate the GPS so you can operate this moving vehicle?

Taxi Driver:  If ju like.

Me: (smiling) (he does have my life in his hands, you know) I like.

I put in the address, and the screen flashes.

“Acquiring Satellites."  And it never goes off.

Taxi Driver:  I has problem with GPS thing.

Me: (Ya think?) I can get it on my phone, sir.  Would you like me to do that?

Taxi Driver:  I no have smart phone.

Me: (Dude.  You might be lacking more than smart phone) I can get it, hang tight.  Okay, I have it.  You need to get on 610, then go to Hardy Toll Road.

Taxi Driver:  Get on 45?  Or 59?  I no remember.  Address  familiar.  Brain not working.

Me: (About that brain - ya think? It’s your town, dude!  Can I get a rerun, back to the taxi stand?  Or heck.  Just stop at that Starbucks, I’ll hitchhike!) Aren’t we on 45 now?

Taxi Driver:  Yes.  

Me:  Okay.  (I start directing him to my destination)

Drive time: 20 minutes

Meter:  Has jumped from $6.00 to $30 while I was looking up the destination for him, in within 1 minute.  I’m beginning to get the BIG picture.

We finally reach Aldine Westfield road.  

Taxi Driver:  That ju building?

Me:  No, sir.  It’s a two story building, a huge complex. Takes up an entire block.  It will be on the left hand side of the road.

Every building, he starts slowing down and trying to turn in.  At every warehouse.  He gets in every freaking left turn lane for about 2 miles, I swear.

Me:  Sir.  See that huge building about 4 blocks down?  You can see it over the trees.  That’s it.

Taxi Driver: Not this one? 

Me:  No sir.  Look further ahead (pointing) at that one, with the big gray windows? (we’re getting closer) (if I get out I can walk from here)

Taxi Driver:  Not this one?

Me:  No sir, keep going, you’re doing good (flattery will get me anywhere).

After about 10 left turn lane fails, we drive further down the road, and we’re now almost on the same block as my destination.

Me:  See that sign?  You can turn in there.

Taxi Driver:  Here?

Me:  No!!  There - at that circular drive.

Taxi Driver:  Here?

Me:  No, keep going just a bit.

Taxi Driver:  Oh!  Where the sign is!

Me:  Yes, that’s it! (Soooo very grateful I’m alive)

I pay the fine, and tip him.

Taxi Driver:  Bless ju, my friend.  Ju so nice.  Ju so pretteh.  Ju got tween seester in Beaumont? 

Me:  (Need compliment? Tip well.) No, sir.

Taxi Driver:  Ju sure?  She could be seester.

Me:  No, sir. Okay, sir, gotta go. Bless you!  Have a great day!

Taxi Driver:  Bless Ju!

Thankful to be alive, yet, I wonder if he’s driving off, chuckling, thinking (in perfect English, no doubt) “I so scammed that chick!”

The price you pay, eh?

It’s never boring around here!

Creativity For Hire

We have a referral bonus drive going on at work.

For example, if I refer a person, and they make it through the gauntlet and actually get hired, I get a bonus.

So I did.

Refer a person.

And they got hired.

I’ve received notification, however, that I’m not going to get the bonus.  Because the person that we hired forgot to put my name in the online application form.

I appealed their decision.  Utilizing the logic that (1) the online app is hard and (2) not everyone is going to be able to 1-2-3 navigate that thing as easily as they suppose.

And then, like a good neighbor, I substantiated my claim via PrintScreen.

You see, the person had contacted me after hours, and I didn’t have my computer on me to walk them through “the process.”  

So, I did it via my iPhone, on Facebook Chat.  1-2-3, every step. Included the job website. Told the person exactly what to do.

Oh, yes, I did.

And I had every one of the messages in my FB archive, thankfully, though through zero prior planning on my part.  (Thank you, Facebook!)  And I also happen to have the Print Screen function on my work computer (Thank you, Dell).  And I also happen to know how to copy, paste into an email.  (Thank you, me.)

I ran into the head HR person, in from Houston, yesterday.  She looked at me, and grinned and we laughed about it.  It was the first FB referral she’d seen. 

I said, “Awww, c’mon. You don’t expect someone like me to follow the rules verbatim, do you?  Little Miss Think Outside the Box?”

She told me she was going to have to take it to a higher power.

I thought, “I already did.  God gave me the wisdom to do the Print Screen.  And, send the text to y'all.”

But, I just smiled.

Because, you know....it’s never boring around here.

Stay Safe, My Wee Friends...

I’ve fallen in love with hummingbirds.

And, as is my wont, I’m always a little late to the game.  Late bloomer.  Late to “get it”.  Wearing bellbottoms 2 years after the fad has passed.  The big black glasses, 3 years after the small oval  John Lennon/John Denver cool specs were back in.  

And the Bo Derek braids?  What?  They're not in style anymore?  Dannnnnggggg.

Miss Johnny Come Lately, that's me.

So…back to this whine.

After asking questions of Mr. Google and Mrs. Facebook (you do know FB is a woman, right?  Surely you know that!  Have you ever seen a more over-intelligent, hormonal, cantankerous, bitchy, snoopy creature?  FB is definitely female. I dare you to prove otherwise.  And that Mark Zuckerberg is the creator means absolutely nothing.), I find I've rum amuck.  Yup, at the tail-end of summer and well into fall, I realized that there are many reasons why I’m not seeing my sweet little hummingbirds.

1. My schedule.
2. The fact that I’ve had the same nectar in the feeders for months.
3. My schedule.
4. I don’t know how to look for hummingbirds.
5. My schedule.
6. Hummingbirds don’t like dogs.
7. My schedule.
8. My feeders smell badly and nectar is ruined.
9. My schedule.
10. My feeders were metal, probably not the best type.
11. My schedule.
12. Did I say my schedule?

I then fixed everything I knew to do, and started looking.

And voila!  The hummingbirds appeared.  So many that I didn’t want to go to work every day, and I rushed home as soon as I could afterwards.  Now, I know, from watching them feed on my plants, they were here daily.  But the feeders made the numbers increase so I was able to view them.

I can prove it.

But now?  The numbers are lessening.  They’re starting to migrate.  Fly south, my friends, and be safe.

I’m going to miss you.

Please come back next year, my darlings!  I’ll have a plethora of feeders and plants especially for you! 

I promise.

Funny For Monday

We did it.  

We had our precious Zanna spayed last week.  It’s the right thing to do - we can’t handle a dog pregnancy and puppies, with our schedule, and almost every day there is a hunting dog abandoned at the local pet shelter.  We just didn’t want to contribute in any way.

ThatManILove says this is Zanna's sexy look.

We opted for the laser technique, which is supposed to be less painful in every way.  Zanna seems to be doing well, a little shaky about jumping down from the bed, so we’re still giving her an assist when she gives us that “I’m helpless” look.  We hate to see our girl in pain, but know it will pass and she’ll be back to herself soon.

I asked ThatManILove what it cost, and he said somewhere around a couple hundred.

I said, “Dang.  We paid more than that for doggy diapers.”  Which led me to remember this story, from last year.  I repost it, again, for my faithful followers, who might need a laugh on this Monday.

From months ago...aka "the last time THAT happened."  Argggggh!

Sunnnnyyyyyy beeeeeeaaaaaches.

Guess I’ll expound on the never boring adventures of the WonderDogs. 

This morning, I’m getting ready, out of the shower, about to dry my hair.  It’s about 6:20 a.m. The dogs ask to go out.   As is our norm, I go out to the “almost oasis” of a back yard.  (I love it in the morning!)  I sit down on the porch, grab a water bottle, settle down to enjoy the beautiful morning, and let them do their business.

I’m soon to discover that it’s not to be that kind of morning.  Zanna’s in the last stages of her heat cycle.  ThatManILove and I have been in some serious discussions this week as to whether or not to breed Zanna, or to get her fixed. Let me take one second to note that TMIL has NOT been in town except on weekends during the last three weeks.   I’ve been dealing with this heat cycle, the diapers, the panties, all that drill.  It’s making me crazy.  ThatManILove doesn’t want her stout championed bloodline to end; I, on the other hand, could care less about menstrual cycles any more, much less my Zanna’s.   


Whatever romantic vision I had about being an awesome breeder of champion German Shorthairs has this very week faded away in a fluff of shredded cotton and denim.  Zanna’s gone through more panty liners, doggie diapers, and puppy panties in three weeks than any woman I’ve ever known (however, that may be because most women I know don’t eat their sanitary products).  I’m ready to put this madness to an end.  Zack’s interest in her is at…well, let’s just say he’s peaked this morning.  I’m not worried, though, because 3 years ago, we made him a sports model.  Yup, we had him fixed.

I’m relaxing, drinking a glass of water, and all of a sudden, Zack starts acting kind of aggressive towards Zanna.  And she’s, ummm….letting him.  The little wench is even coming on to him.  She’s flirting.  And before I can say “You don’t have the stuff anymore, cowboy, don’t even think about it!” , Zack has mounted Zanna.  Oh, yes, he has. You’ve heard “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up?”  Well, he’s mounted,  and he can’t get down.  Or she can’t get loose.  Or something.

I scream at him.  Totally ineffective.

I run get the water hose.  Same result.

I call ThatManILove.  He doesn’t answer his cellphone.

So, I do what most warm-blooded over-intelligent females who are seeking answers to such a dilemma do.  I run to the door, go inside, shut the back door so I don’t have to watch them do the dirty deed anymore, and go ask Mr. Google what the heck to do.

Turns out the first two things, screaming and water, only make situations such as this, worse.  (Don’t say I never taught you anything.)

After I read the article twice, I decide to venture to the back door to peek out and see how things are hanging.  Whew!  They’re apart.  Zanna’s giving me that, “Gee thanks, oh you human protector of all four legged things  – you suck at this” look.  I, in turn, am glaring at Zack, thinking, “You RAPIST!”  I hustle them both into the house and kennel Zanna, pronto.

Then, and only then, does ThatManILove call.

“Hey, babe, did you need something?”

“Ummm, yeah, well, I did…but it’s all good now.  Zack mounted Zanna.”

“What? He can’t do that.”

“Oh, yes he can, and he did.  I was an eyewitness.  And they got stuck.”

“What?  Are you sure?  I don’t think Zack can do anything.”

“I am not even gonna repeat it. Zanna’s been violated. Maybe even drugged.” 

Silence.

And then I can hear him.  He’s giggling.  And then he starts laughing.

And that just pisses me off more.

“When did we get Zack fixed?”  Yup.  Still giggling.

And we figure it out. Two years ago.

And you know what he said to me then?

“Don’t worry baby.  Semen doesn’t have that kind of shelf life.”

Sunday Citar

Today, I'm joining in Fresh Mommy's Sunday Citar for my first time.  To quote Tabitha, 

"It's Sunday again that means it's time for one of my favorite things... Sunday Citar!!  Here's where we all share a quote or two... a favorite, a new find, a laugh inducing or tear inducing quote you love this week. (Citar = to quote in Spanish)"

There is a place in you where there is perfect peace. There is a place in you where nothing is impossible. There is a place in you where the strength of God abides. ~A Course In Miracles

Peace,

Makes One Wonder

I’ve not been diligent in writing every day.  

I have, however, been diligent in working on all the events I have coming up soon.  On top of my "real" job.

1. National Assn. of Drilling Engineers Meeting last Thursday in Bakersfield, CA
2. The Permian Basin AADE meeting last Tuesday
3. The West Coast AADE Shoot Friday
4. United Way Energy Committee training and meeting
5. My company’s customer appreciation sporting clay tournament next week, including ordering prizes, plaques, and assigning co-workers duties, not to mention sending out almost 1800 invitations, and then, the day after, the shoot for the local high school ROTC
6. Serving on a committee for the upcoming API Team Roping in October
7. A completions conference the same week as the shoot
8. Doing registration at the Southwest Oilmans Tennis Tourney
9. New Mexico Oil and Gas Conference, in Santa Fe, NM -  including booking and changing hotel rooms, helping plan a golf tourney, a formal dinner, and a formal reception, and all that entails.  This happens the last week in September/first week in October.  I don’t even have a clue what I’m gonna wear yet.

No, I’m not an event planner, that’s all just in a day’s work in the oilpatch.  And I had to skip a customer trip to Vegas because I was overwhelmed with this stuff.

So, when I went to the bathroom at my office Tuesday, and saw this, is it any wonder I started laughing and couldn’t stop? I mean, people, if the Funny Farm would have seen me, they probably would have certified me, put me in a straight jacket, and ferried me off.  An evil, eerie, cackling, bwahahahaha issuing forth, all the way.

And if you're wondering, I have no idea why there is a Sara Lee bag hanging out of the napkin disposal in our corporate bathroom.

And I’m not even going to ask.

It’s never boring around here.  And I can't make this sh** up. No way, no how.