Wednesday, March 01, 2006


I have been on vacation--to Mississippi, otherwise, and from now on, known as The Seventh Circle of Hell. Truly.
I saw sides of meat, raw, being sold from the backs of pickup trucks. People were sitting in their yards, still filled with Katrina trash, complaining about being jobless and how the government won't help them, yet local restaurants are closing at 7 p.m. and going out of business from low profits because they can't hire enough help to run normal business hours.
EVERYONE is a chain-smoker, and though I am allergic to cigarettes and was miserably sick all week, I did not ask a single person to stop puffing away, yet when they found out why I was sick from one of my friends, they GOT MAD AT ME, and said, "I hope she doesn't expect me to not smoke in my own damn house, 'cause it's my own damn house and I'm not putting this out."
So much for southern hospitality.
Mother of the family hated me for the following reasons (and it's not as if I'm a date or fiancee or potential threat to her family unit in any way, I was just there to babysit her grandson):
I am not a morning person, therefore, I do not jump out of bed and greet everyone with a cheerful "good morning", which is apparently, appalling in her eyes; i was sick one night and didn't help wash the dishes (I must point out, she didn't help either, because she was watching American Idol); I am allergic to smoke; I was there to help out with her grandson and she wanted to be in total control of his upbringing for a week, though she lives 800 miles away and the poor child is terrified of her; she thinks I could be a threat to her son's marriage, because I live with them (SO far from the truth. I would NEVER be interested in Big Red, and Franny is my best friend in Indiana.); I talked to her husband one time; AND I DIDN'T SHARE THE CHOCOLATE I BOUGHT FOR MYSELF!
Clearly, respectfully, she is right to hate me. From that list, you can see that I am a total BEE0tch of the highest order and deserve to find love from no one. I am a horrible person.
Moving on...
A former boyfriend, The Gypsy, may have recently been murdered or at least abducted, by mob bosses in Florida. (I totally wish I was kidding here) His mother called me this week to inform me that he went back to his old job for a week to help Mike and Anthony (real names, I couldn't think of anything more appropriate than the truth in that case!) shut down their "business" at their repeated request, and was to be back within two weeks, but hasn't returned and he had a round-trip ticket. She believes they killed him and wanted to know if I knew anything about them. I didn't, but it would be sadly appropriate if the Gypsy died at the hand of foul play. He never made the best decisions. I think he'll turn up in 6 months asking me to marry him. As usual.
In still more news, Monk says he only has good intentions towards me, and that I will eventually find out how he really feels, but he can't be in a relationship right now. I think he thought I'd buy that for real. I don't, but am willing to see what happens next, out of pure curiousity as to how he thinks that could possibly be true.
I had to write yet another story for the paper this week about an old man attempting to establish a relationship with a very young woman and realized something: The reason I can't find a boyfriend in this town is because I am over 18, and therefore, too old to be desirable. I can't believe I'm such an old, horrible, let-myself-go, 25 year old. I should have committed suicide for reasons of old age at 20!
My friend, Florida, and her boyfriend, have conned me into going on a blind date with his best friend, who, at current count, has slept with 114 (that's not a typo) different women. Bravo for me, I think I've found the man of my dreams! More on that after the date occurs, but just to give you a taste of what is bound to be an EXCITING EVENING FOR SURE, I have been advised to show up wearing something, "tasteful, yet slutty". That statement has SO MANY things wrong with it, I don't even know where to begin. My brain hurts!

queen bee-otch signing off at


Blogger The Lumberjack said...


You are freakin' hilarious. By all accounts the madness is too good to be true. The outside world wonders if all this could happen to one person. Imagination at work? I think not. These are all true facts. The cold hard truth, people. Do you understand? I can vouch for Jackie, we go way back. And when a lumberjack vouches for you, you know there's no bull.

Might I add a suggestion for your "tasteful, but slutty" outfit: go in a tight tube top made of flannel...he'll go mad.

The Lumberjack

10:15 PM  
Blogger kittybrunette said...

Ah, yes, the flannel tube top. In bold shades of red, black, white and a dash of yellow, it IS the hottest thing this season.
He WILL go mad. The whole occasion will turn out, in the words of an old blind-date my friend Julie went on in college, to be "more fun than choppin' wood." YEE-HAW!

10:20 AM  

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