Esther Says She is Going to Kill Hester! by Diane Ogden

Esther called me this morning while I was driving to a client, so I tapped the speaker button on my fancy phone!  Boy am I sorry I did that.  Esther was foaming at the brain because Hester borrowed her Buick again and was not back in time for Esther's appointments.  Hester has a nice new used Jaguar she parked in Esther and the Colonel's gay-rage because she is sure it is bugged just like everything she owns is bugged including her toilet paper roll as well as the outlets in her apt.  Actually I think she prefers to use Esther's gas vs her own cash flow gas considering she has been evicted from her cohabitation existence due to her excessive calls and talks to the several tenants in the complex.  She believes at least 35 of them have infiltrated the property mainly so they can stalk her, for the real stalker who met her a couple times three years ago and never dated her.  Poor sucker happened to be a delivery man to the complex she lives and stalks/works at who has no interest is Hester Bester.  Back to my point!  Esther finally gets her Buick back from Hester who pulls in an hour and forty five minutes late to Esther's driveway.  Esther motions with her shaking hands (do recall she has some sort of tremor condition called Hester tremors)for Hester to "GET THE FLOCK OUT OF MY CAR!"  Hester merely moves over to the passenger seat. Esther says, NO NO , get out bad girl who is late bringing my Buick home!  Hester says in her narcisstic voice, "How dare you speak to me in that tone in front of all those foreigner roofers working up there! (Like they can speak English anyway duh)  Esther pointed her finger at Hester and said, "Get out!"  Of which Hester did.  That is when my phone rang.  And then it rang again after the car man told Esther that she needed to hustle on over to the car wash and get all the clay off her Buick.  CLAY?  What?  Where does a person drive where there is clay in Wisconsin.  I think Hester drove to Arizona cause Esther said the gas she put in was GONE. 

Now Esther is blaming herself for how Hester has turned out crazy looney.  I said, "No No, it is all because of the auntie handing down the crazies. You remember Esther? The crazy auntie Alice you found sitting on the floor eating cat food. BINGO, DINGO!  You got yourself a generational nother one.  Esther told me she's had it.  No more blaming herself for Hester's narcissism and mental coo-coo-ville-ness, the correct term being psychcotic meaning serious.... hello.
Back to my point. Esther is on my fancy phone on speaker telling me she is going to Kill Hesther and saying the fluch word several times over.  I told her no no, only because I just got my bail bond money back from the Pottawatomie County for bailing the G-daughter out of jail.  No cash left for gettin' Esther out for murder in the planning degree.  I said calm her down Esther and just then Harry starts to barking and speaking in tongues of which Esther understands.  Harry needed to go out of the doors of the inside for poddie time.  So Esther and I talk for as long as the cordless can handle the distance....Esther says, This is a revolting development Di, and if I Die, the keys to the buick are in the back of the linen closet in the bag of depends!"  I said, "OMG Esther, do you use Depends?"  She said the fluck word to me and then all I heard was static.  Hum, Harry and her must of got out of range.....  "Home Home on the range, where the dogs and the Hesters do play...and maybe pay... The End 
The Happy News for today is that Esther won't kill Hester.  It's all talk.

photo from: http://erkerk.tunblr.com/
crazy nell photo from: http://cinemademerde.com/Alice_Sweet_Alice

Demon's Demon's Damn Demon's! by Diane Ogden

I want to say one thing.  There really are demons out there.  I know because just know.  I tell everyone I know to stay under the demon radar.  Same as under the police radar, not to implicate police as demonic of course not. Well....hhumm
Anyway, today was interesting to say the least. Today was toast. And it was toast because of Budfest, or bookfest, or rockfest, I cant remember the name of the fest, all I know is my daughters guy friend went to it and got so drunk he cant recall what an idiot he was.  The demon police called my daughter to come get demon drunk him, then told her he wasn't safe to come get.  So a cab brought him home and on the way he threw up in it which cost him $100. When at his home where he slept and threw up and slept and threw up and so on plus more, he became angry that no one took care of his sorry naken fat butt.  Then comes the demons out of his dirty drunken out of control body. How else would they get in huh?

They are in the house, in the air, in the toilet and everywhere.  He, the culprit, drunk from the fest, leaves.  His car died after his accelerator stuck, I suspect his windows shattered although no one mentioned that. As well as his head was spinning as in "Linda Blair."  Then his heart started racing, duh, ya think, then he was mean spirited, ya think? The front door of his house totally came off the hinges and fell apart, ya think? His one daughter, age 7 was scared because she said little angry boxes on strings were hanging in the air all around her head.  Call the asylum? No, call the Priest for crying out loud sakes.  What a bunch of chit.  My phone is getting bombed by the daughter needing demon help part of the afternoon.  Hey, I said I would pray.  After I pray for the demons to go, I throw up in my mouth and almost choke to death.  Oh great! Like that has never happened. I knew immediately I had gotten pulled into the green slime shit bucket of demonic dorks.  I survived but not without fear and discomfort.  At my next clients house my teeth started feeling like lightning bolts were striking them. I had to leave the job early to find a dentist and a few thousand dollars on the way to pay him. Then it suddenly stopped.  I text the daughter to see where she is.  She is on her way to her work out class.  My teeth are on fire from her friends demons and she is fine.  Well isn't that just the way it goes.  The Happy News of the day is:  I'm fine, I'm good, call the priest, do not call me and dump your demons on me
NA More! Not only all this today, but I found out my neighbor is having her boobs re-done and will be screaming "why did I do this?" Afterwards.  I will feel very helpless. Her Mom will be there, so maybe I should just be and feel helpless.  After all I didn't do it.  My boobs are just fine, it's hers that are going to make her scream.  Mine make me scream for different reasons. If I have to scream, too bad I don't have a fixed pair to scream over.  Maybe I will make her soup. No, No, she doesn't have the flu doo! Her boobs do. And I cant do anything for them.  And I wont pray so no demons come on her boobs.  That already happened. That is why she is having a re-do. I think this is a separate blog humm.   

Noises In My Head Come Out My Mouth by Diane Ogden

Yes I am one of those people whose thoughts sometimes come rolling out my mouth, but not before thinking, especially while I am driving.  The other day I was day driving dreaming about a few of the nastier people that have "un-graced" my life and a few that have ungraced other peoples lives that I know when suddenly out of my brain cells comes a strange little voice (I changed my voice because I am a very nice person who wouldn't think of saying nasty things about anyone, WRONG) The voice change just gives me a fake excuse for the bad thoughts that came out my mouth.  Hey, if the tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound? Of course it does. If I speak bad things and no one hears them, does it matter?  Of course it does! 

But I did it anyway cause I have some strange way of having fun all

by myself.  The little voice dropped a couple octaves and began

speaking to "the" nasty person bully:

"I am so blogcramed sick of your mouth.

Why don't you go jump in the neighbors pool and forget to hold your breath. 
I don't want you to die, just choke a little to see how it feels.

Hey, go dip your finger in hot mustard then lick it and scream! So you know how it feels.

Rent a truck and drive to the top of a mountain and run out of gas, or drive to Peru!

Go bury yourself in the mud like a sow like the shitty mess you made for others.

Throw yourself in front of a truck, but I don't want to watch, I don't like messes.

I wish you were a frog so you could jump away in the grass, far away, you green dumb frog.

I'm fine, your not!  But then your not driving and talking chit about an imaginary rotten bully person.

So what.

You should stop the bitching, day and night bitching.  Nagging ragging bag you are. Stop it.

You should go to a mountaintop so you can hear the spirit speak to you.  So you can learn  before you die.

The old saying is:  Live and Learn, not die and learn. Then its too late jerk off bullie butt.  If you die there is much unfinished business..... 

See:  I'm fine and your going to die with unfinished business. NOT ME...I just said it all and got it out.

I'm good!! I'm really good!

200lb. Woman Upstairs Lovin Aerobics.... by Diane Ogden

The 200 pound woman upstairs is doing step up areobics in front of her TV on my time over my head!  The pictures on my walls are shaking like a minor earthquake has struck.  The dishes in my cupboards are tinging tinging tinging tinging.  For a person such as myself, maybe a little OCD-ish, which means I cannot do repetitive anything unless its my own head doing it. Get it? It's like chinese torture of a faucet dripping onto a cement floor inside a dark prison cell, omg enough.  Sooo, me being a very non confrontational person, I live with these pounding sounds for another week, then I become confrontational. Well a bit anyway. My dog and my cat got a drift of my total confrontational verbage before I decided to take the lavalator, my word for the elevator to 2nd floor, apt. 205 and knock gently.  Sometimes we have to show others how to be gentle.  You might want to remember I said that as this paragraph mo-seys onward and downward.  The woman stopped her stomping and answered the door graciously.  I told her I truly wished for her to be able to exersize but that my walls were disturbingly shaking. And as I type she is at it again!!  Fluck! My chandelier is doing a jig.  So back to her door.  She apologized and it was quiet for a few days and then stomp stomp stomp drip drip drip. I thought we had a little more time before the chinese really took over. This isnt fair! I suddenly do not care if the woman is fat forever....

Then I remembered a sign I saw for classes for concealed weapons.  You see folks, not only is China taking over, Wisconsin has passed a new law allowing concealed weapons.  Oh yah, can't you just see this 8 x 10 glossy a comin soon.  Can you believe I even considered it.  Oh yeh I did and in my imagination only I am walking to the lavalator in my high heal sandals, concealed weapon tucked in my pants front, struttin with a new found gun confidence up to fat ladies door.  I knock, she opens, I smile and pull it from my pants (good thing I am female or this would be a bad story ending) the weapon that is, and point it at her foot!  She screams and jumps.  I say, "Hold still crammit!"  Then I told her to hand over the fluckin aerobic CD and the stepper NOW!  She ran and dragged it to me.  I of course had a bandana around my face and a bag over my head with two holes cut in it to see!  Oh, I also had my dollie next to me to carry the stepper away to the garbage room downstairs.  I told her I wouldnt tie her fat ass up if she would count to 5000 before making any moves.  That is if she could count that high.  Me, I took that aerobic stairway to hell to the trash and went home, removed the head bag and relaxed.  I also did away with the dollie so there was no trail for the authorities.  Heck, I had a reason and isnt that why we will now be able to have a concealed weapon.  Worked for me.  And now she can eat whatever she wants. She probably thanked me for scaring the bee gee bees outta her.  I know I feel much better now.   

Just in Case Someone Dies or Gets Married....by Diane Ogden

 Sooo.... I stopped in at Marshalls Dept. Store today to get some very expensive doggie treats cheap!  Instead I came home with these to die for (no not Jimmy Chew Chu) shoes.  I just had to have them.  They do not match the little black dress in my closet but they match the larger green one.  Hey, all I had to wear to a wedding or funeral were Merrell's.  You know those comfortable half shoe half something else from abroad.  Those Chinese are getting it all. I keep tellin folks they better start learnin' Chinese.  I mean it too. If you want to work for even $2 an hour after 2012 ya better learn it!  OK back to my shoe story.  As you can see in these pictures I had to do some serious acrobatics to get these self shoe foot portraits.  I had to lay on my sofa with my feet extended into the air while holding my summer robe tightly between my legs so it would stay in place and hide the knee highs stockings I put on to hide my mayonnaise legs!

 Then you will notice I tried to get cutsie and turn one shoe in like a teenager.  Well
listen, my dog had fun watching me carry on like she has never seen before as well as try to jump up on my tummy as I am mid acrobatically putting on this self showing. 

But come on, aren't these shoes the "bomb," as the kids say. 
I have not told you the problem with them so allow me.  I could walk fine in them until I put the nylons on.  At that point it was like walking on a bed of fish outta watta!  The new shoes went from sexy to slippery soupie somba.  I mean picture this 8 x 10 black and white glossy of mwah falling in the aisle at a funeral...or worse, a wedding.  At least at a funeral they are already all sad and down and wouldn't even notice old me slippin n slidin without a bikini. God forbid I might have to return these little angels. Maybe I should bronze em for a good memory. Or I could use a walker! OK I am LMAOing.  Laughing my ars off!  A walker...might as well rent a scooter and wear the athletic shoes. It's coming soon enough anyway for Pete sakes.  Who the H is Pete anyway?? I am keeping my princess shoes, putting sand paper inside and duct taping the bottoms.  That's what they do in Oklahoma and a few other places so I can too.  Anything to feel good about myself.  Nylons and duct tape.  Now all I need is for someone to die!  Or get married or maybe a baptism. OMG a date???  Holy duct tape, a date!  Sure why not use the shoes to impress.  If I fall down its just a plus.  "Help me, Help me!" LOL I didn't mean that. 

T

Esther Your Killin' Me! by Diane Ogden

 This is an angry at The Colonel Esther with her readers on and without all the hoopla rainbow clothes and ass-essories!
Last night we were having a phone conversation about The Colonel hitting the vodka shots while she was gone for an hour or so.  When she arrived home he tried to walk but stumbled down the hall to his "den," or "cave" or whatever you call his sleeping / living quarters, when she said to me, "Oh dear God what was that crash?"  I told her she better go check.  She responded with, 'Nope are you kidding, this could end all my problems."  I sort of laughed while telling her I wasn't sure I would be able to help her drag the old boy down the steps and into her trunk and over to her daughter Nester's married boyfriend's house, across their yard, through the gate and into the pool.  B I N G O! Poolside fun.  We laughed until we cried then Esther decided a reality check was in order, walked down the hall carrying my by phone, looked into his "cave" where he lay sprawled on his animal leather recliner snoring.  "Damn." She said.  "He made it through again!"  Of course in all jest I am sure.

Esther said her daughter Ramos was coming to spend the night and tomorrow they were going to go get a pedicure.  That is a cure of the dry foot.  I mentioned to her that might  not be a good idea considering she has a wound on her foot from an allergic mosquito bite.  And what a wound. Looks near like road kill. She said, "No they wont let me put that "foot" in the foot bath.  I thought to myself she would be lucky if they let her in the darn place at all.  Until a big band aide came into mind. No, Esther told me she was definitely going for the pedicure.  She was just going to get one foot done.  I thought I would split my gut laughing at such nonsense.  A one foot pedicure. Ramos thought about inviting sister Hester but she would have thought the toenail polish straight from OPI was "Radio"active. (In other words bugged like her car, house, computer, phone, wall jacks, etc.)
This one foot pedi was a Lucille Ball or surely an Edith Bunker decision. Esther your killin me with these stories. The good news is: The Colonel lives on which means I will have more material for  you all!  

Esther's "Hopeless Chest" by Diane Ogden

Dear One's, Today I visited Esther.  It is never a dull or uninteresting time when I visit Esther.  The Colonel saw me coming and made his exit out the back way!  I do not know why except that Esther and I laugh far too much to suit The Colonel. In fact laughter makes The Colonel uncomfortable.  He is a fairly grumpy human man when most of the time Esther is floating around in her rainbow dress and scarves and umbrella finding humor in most all things except him.
We were discussing a Hope Chest I happened to see in her spare room.  I told her I remembered having a hope chest some years back.
In fact three marriages back to be exact.  Esther only has two marriages to discuss.  She said, "What Hope Chest, I don't have a Hope Chest, in fact the only chest I have is the one that's given way to time and does me no earthly good except its too big for its own bra!"  I laughed before telling her I meant the Wooden Hope Chest in her spare room.  Then Esther laughed and laughed some more. I asked what was so darn funny.  She said, "That's no Hope Chest, its my HOPELESS CHEST.  Because there's no hope left for The Colonel and I and there never was any hope for the first one.  I thought she was saving things for her Granddaughter in it, but Esther said no way would she pass on any more hopelessness to anyone of her offspring or theirs in any chest named hope when it wasn't true.  Then we moved on to her dog Harry who had jumped up on the sofa and was sitting on her face.  I said, "OMG Esther, is it clean?"  She mumbled she thought so, so far anyway as I snapped a photo.  Never a dull moment at The Colonel and Esther's house of hopeless chests.