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.

Cyst on Eyelid Removal by Diane Ogden

Catchy title huh?  NOT!  For the past ten or twenty years I have had this little wort like looking thing on my eyelid.  Then it suddenly grew last year so I stopped into the eye clinic last week at the urging of my optometrist.  I walked in, said my name is Diane and I am scared.  The young boy-man behind the desk said, "OK, Diane (scared) what?" At which time I gave him my last name.  He asked me why I was there. I brought my head closer toward his as I pointed to the wort like cystie thing and said, "I'm scared."  He tried to assure me I would be fine. I told him about my recent cataract surgery and that I had begged my optometrist to remove it then.  She said, "No, go downstairs to Dr. so and so!"  So I am here and scared.  He again tried to reassure me.  I then said, "Hey, I am having a colonoscopy in September, ya think the doc might wander over there and snip it while I'm out!"  OK so that got a laugh but a no go.  It was then I realized I would have to go through the process I went through TODAY.  They laid me down on a chair similar to a dental office lounger, put a needle into my eyelid that felt like a bad bee sting.  Then I felt her cut it off! Then she burned it and I felt that too much so another bee sting shot in the eyelid. OMG I am having a blast.  Then done. The doctor said no one had ever done what I did during the procedure. I said, "What?"  They told me and then I remembered I said, "uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, and a hundred more uh huh's until she was done.  I told her that was my version of Yoga, hummmmmm.  It took my mind away from visualizing what she was doing.  I could see the needle in my brainmind, I could see the scalpel in my brainmind, I could see the woodburning do da day that in my brainmind looked like what my brother used to burn pictures into wood with!!  Oh Lordie. The worst of it all was the smell of burning skin! First of all it was like a witches wort on my nose, then smoke and burning skin! I think I am now free of at least one life curse! Oh, they told me it would throb badly, then bleed for sure. To keep ice on it all night.  I didn't have ANY of that! None!  See the curse be gone Fred..... whose Fred? 

LuLu's Left the Building.....by Diane Ogden

LuLu being the third in a line of three animals that reside with me in an apartment.  LuLu being a cat that belongs to my daughter and that I inherited when she/they moved in and then only she left back out.  When she brought LuLu home as a kitten way back when she also lived here....that being three years ago.  Since then LuLu who I wanted to name Sophie because my cat is named Lucy!  In short which this is seeming long, basically I had two cats for several months named LuLu and Lucy when the daughter moved out this last time.  LuLu tortured my sofa, my Nana's antique red velvet 30 button tufted loveseat, two covered chairs, and two very expensive rugs, with her extremely sharp nails.  LuLu would wake me up at 6:30 a.m. every morning clawing my large Flexsteel Wing Back chair in my bedroom.  I would sit up and holler, yes holler, L U L U STOP IT!!! And she would run like the big wind.

Yet the damage was already done 100 times.  Then she went away. Today.  I received a phone call from one of the little girls where she used to live and is now living again who told me she has missed her so much.  Katie told me LuLu was very happy. She was licking my daughters leg which I suspect means "thank you for bringing me to my real home in cat language."  Now if we did that to whoever we wished to say a thank you to ....eewww.  But we don't and the LuLu's of the world do, and it is precious.  I am so happy LuLu is back home with her family.  But now I need all new furniture.

 She will miss lounging out on my porch with Lucy every day.  I put up a child's net all around the rod iron and neither one of them have figured out they can jump over it and out into the yard. Interesting.  My daughter came the other day and asked LuLu if she wanted to come home.  Ordinarily LuLu is a very sassy cat but this time she licked my daughters hand and made a precious soft sound.  We both knew LuLu was trying to communicate her answer.  So today LuLu left the building as I stated in the above paragraph, and that my friends is good news for my furniture.  She is home with two young girls she adores and sleeps with and her Mama Lindsay and new baby Karli and Daddy Derek!  Yeah for me...Peace is slowly returning to my humble abode.  Fun Fun Fun 'til your Daddy takes your T-bird awa-a-a-a-yy!  I don't have a T-bird so I am fine as frogs hair until the next call from jail for bail.  Just kidding of course. I hope.

Jail Bail by Diane Ogden

Considering I was up most of last night it is a miracle I am able to keep my pretty browns open long enough 

to write this little tale of horror.   

It all started twenty two years ago when my Grand Daughter was
born.  She was the cutest little thing, even funny, then she grew up and is still funny and can sing like a bird or Christina Aguilara. She is also very pretty. Only problem is she has OCD. We all do to some degree. You know Optimal Cursed Dumbness when it comes to being quiet when things don't go just right.  OK its Obsessive Compulsive Disorder where she cant let go of a subject.  When she gets angry its harder for her to let up and relax.  Sometimes that causes fighting.  Oh yeh!  Its a form of low lifer behavior and she knows it.  This time it came back and bit her in her derier big time.  We are talking
 A R R E S T E D! Hello Geronimo! She was taken away in handcuffs that left marks that lasted into the next day. She wasn't allowed to even get a pair of shoes.  Had no undies on, no bra, and believe me this girl needs one at all times.  It was "Let's hang out at the jail."  She discovered officers who are not the nice helpful kind of policeman on the corner directing traffic and helping little old ladies across the street.  She wore an Orange, yes I said Orange jumpsuit that said, Columbia County Jail on the back, and it didn't smell so well.  She was in a holding area where one fellow was coochie coo-ing her which scared her to tears. He was behind bars so she was safe.
I do wish she would take up cooking, cleaning, and parks and recreation

vs obsessive thoughts on how others do not do things perfectly or even acceptable.  Poor thing truly has the medical OCD.
I think she will be fine.  
But the jail bail paying machine isn't fine.  If you do not have correct change that means you have to leave the premises and go find a convenience (now I know why they are called that) store to get you more money and do not forget the service charge Almighty!  Back I go and when I arrive I am trying to help an older gentleman who was just going to stick forty dollars in it without typing who it is for.  So there I am helping again, duh, but the letter A kept sticking until the old fellow said a few choice words and left.  Poor kid waiting for is canteen $.  All that was wrong is the screen was dirty.  But then those donut eating fellows with the shiny gold badges find it hard to waddle out into the entry to wipe a 14 inch screen off.  In fact they found it difficult to do much I noticed.
They messed up and forgot to key in my information, which meant my bail money wont come back to me, but rather go to the Grand D! What else do they have to do on a Saturday morn.  I watched. Nothing, I say. Nothing much. 
They finally let the poor girl out of the Jail House to which point she began shaking and crying. I do not blame her.  Bad place, Oh yes! Me, I just need sleep now. Good peaceful sleep with no calls from any jail or hospital or highway.  Now I only have one day left before a new week of hard labor.  Maybe the Grand D should get the hard labor huh?  Anybody looking fer Grand D?  Yup, her Nana D is.