Category Archives: Humor

I am nothing if not amusing.

Ooops! I Did It Again!

Britney Spears can not sing worth a hoot, btw.

Once again, I have not written in weeks. I wish I could tell someone, I really don’t have time for rheumatoid arthritis right now, give this to me when I’m 90. One of the wonderful side effects of swollen wrist joints is carpal tunnel syndrome. It really is not fun to sit and type. I still have lots to say, I just can’t type. ¬†I also get to wear special gloves and ace bandages on my forearms.

On the home front, our neighbors on both sides of our house down here are not speaking to us. They are sisters, and their combined age must be nearing 160. One of their husbands is at least 87. We found him sitting on our deck in one of our chairs last week. ūüôā We just waited with him until his wife found him.

So, the only one speaking to us has Alzheimer’s. The reason for this shunning? Our deck. Apparently, it’s a monstrosity, and it’s on our neighbor’s property. News to us. My husband and I measured the distance between our house and theirs about 1,000 times and made sure we never crossed into their yard. In fact, instead of being on the property line, our garden and deck end eight inches on our side.

The other tidbit is technically, it’s neither of our yards. These are mobile homes, and we own the house, not the land. We don’t own the yard, trees or flowers we plant, the deck we built, or the driveway. Technically, she has nothing to complain about because neither of us owns anything once we step out of our homes.

The day we found Eddie on our deck, the two sisters and husbands went out to breakfast. They have been going to a diner named Rosie’s ¬†every.single.day ¬†for the three years we’ve had the house down here. We were of the topic of conversation. We were probably the topic for days, since Bitch Thelma has a tendency to rant on once she decides to hate you. Bitch Thelma, ragged on so much that Ed started having chest pains and had to go to the hospital! Jeeze, enough already. Now he has to wear a heart monitor because his sister-in-law couldn’t shut up about us!

I emailed Bitch Louise, her sister, and explained how we did not build or plant anything on Bitch Thelma’s property. I received a missive back that basically said I’m not interested in this topic, don’t talk to me ever again. Nice.

We have officially named the deck The Monstrosity. I enjoy saying things like, “I think I’ll go sit on The Monstrosity for a while. I try saying this when Bitch Thelma’s husband is around. He’s not talking to us either, so he must suffer, too.

The pic of the deck is awful, I know. I am usually very good with my Big Girl Camera, but apparently the house and deck were tilted when I took the picture. The PVC furniture adds a nice touch, doesn’t it? We’re bringing down nice stuff in January, and staining the deck a grayish color to make it less noticeable. If BTcould have waited for the end result, and not pitched a fit… Oh well, f*** them if they can’t take a joke.

That’s it for now, over and out.

Patty

Deck 1

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It’s Amazing I Survived My Childhood. Chapter 3

Here’s the third installment of IAISMC. The first one was running behind the DDT jeep.

My sister told me a few weeks ago that she has competed with me since I was born. Why???? I am about as competitive as a rock.

When I was little, we lived in Red Bank, NJ. It’s a wonderful little town if you want someplace cool to go. Anyways, my sister and I had friends way down at the other corner who’s last name was Scarpelino. We were allowed to walk down to her house. This was the sixties, back when kids could just roam. A lot of the streets with houses in Red Bank have slate instead of cement sidewalks. For some God awful reason, we decided to race home on uneven slate. Call me Fleet Foot, I was ahead. Prancing and a dancing, just like Stewball.

I was only five, but I was beating my nine year-old sister, and the Scarpelinos and whoever else was with us. Maybe I should rename myself Fleet Foot.

We were just getting to the last slate before we left the sidewalk to go into my grandmother’s backyard, when I felt a leg come out in front of mine. Bam! Face plant! I remember just screaming like hell, and walking home alone because¬†everyone.just.scattered. I needed five stitches.

Years later, I asked her why she did it. Her answer? She wanted to win.¬†Well, that’s nice. Kill the little sister.

It’s ok. Last Christmas she felt guilty about all the wonderful ways she tortured me while we were growing up, so she bought me an IPad. She can trip me anytime. Next time, I want a pony.

I think my sister is thinking of ways she could dispose of me. My brother has his typical don’t take my picture face. My dad is sporting his Army crew cut.

Send her back

On gossip, lying and not keeping secrets.

I am the family genealogist. I also will do quick search for friends. My cousin Michael enjoys asking me to find his old girlfriends. He’s always thanks me. I wonder if he ever goes out with his former babes once he has their numbers.

There are always skeletons in the closet. We have a few. One is my great grandfather. He was orphaned by six months and raised by his aunt. I have done DNA on my great grandfather’s grandson, and nothing ever comes up, so I wonder if my grandfather’s father was not anyone we know. Who’s your daddy?

I have a cousin who had a baby out of wedlock, his mom told my sister, and she told me. I asked him if I could do DNA testing on him, but he wanted to protect his privacy. That’s great, but guess what? We know you had a kid, and we know where he lives and what he looks like. ¬†There is no privacy.

That’s it for now. All this type makes me need a nap. And chocolate. And a real Coke.

patty

Long Time, No Type

Forgive me for not writing within the past month:

Here are some good and true excuses:

The heat index has been 95F since we got here in August, and my fingers slip on the keys because I am one giant sweat ball.

My doctor in Delaware lied. Florida weather is not making my RA better, it’s made it worse. I get carpal tunnel ever time I type, so it makes writing a whole lot less fun.

My husband The Big Guy feels I must go with him on every.trip.to.home.depot even if it’s three times in one day. I need to cut the cord. With a hedge trimmer.

We are starting a small booth in an antique store down here in FL, so worry about that has taken up some time.

I’ve had too much fun giving the Civic Association’s home page on FB too much of a hard time to type. Most of the people on there are stuck in their ways. I’ll have to tell you about the woman who thought poisoning stray cats here was ok another time.

I’ve gotten hooked on Veronica Mars, and am now starting to watch it all over from the pilot episode.

TBG and I have begun a life of crime. Ralph moved. We never met him, but his gf had sex in our house with a known felon. I know it wasn’t Ralph’s fault that his slutty girlfriend cheated on him, but it’s guilt by association. He’s moved, his house is vacant, and he has good plants. I now have a Mexican post cactus and several agaves.

End of excuses.

It’s nice to start writing again here. I will be happier when the weather cools down, which should right around Halloween when we will be leaving. Never fails. Crazily, we will be coming back about a week later, laden with vintage stuff to sell in our little shop at the antique store. Basically, we will either stuff all of our bins of collectibles into our van, or if they don’t fit, rent a trailer.

We have a new best friend down here. His name is Terry, and he has had fun suggestions of things to do down here. He’s lived in FL three years longer than us, so he knows cool places. Yesterday, we went to the Chiluly Exhibit in downtown St. Petersburg.

Pattyargon tumbleweed

IT’S WEDNESDAY AND I AM IN FLORIDA!!!

For all my complaining about the heat, I love my friends here. Everyone came over yesterday and today, gave me big kisses and hugs and said how much they missed us. Oddly enough, that never happens in Delaware, with our neighbors there. I wonder why. ūüôā Three of the seven houses on the street have people living in them that do not talk to us, and a few of the others don’t even know our names after eight years. Oh, well.

We drove down to the beach today, had lunch and drinks in our favorite restaurant, and picked up my new license plate!!! The plate will say 5unny. The 5 really does look like an S from a few feet. My car looks great. I am so glad I splurged on the protective cover.  

News on the food poisoning front. I called my sister and told her how angry her Holier Than Thou letter made me. She then told me that my aunt told her if she never spoke to me again, it would be alright! If my sister had just called and said call Aunt J; everything would have been fixed in five minutes. ¬†Here’s a good sunny day song, to give you a feeling of Clearwater Beach!

Patty

Here’s a little TidBit About Me

 

Happy Bunny Crazy does even begin to cover it

I have bipolar I. That’s the fun kind. Some people think that bipolar is so much better than depression, that you are happy when you are manic. So not true! I become enraged, empowered, and dangerous, and then I get depressed.¬†Right now, I’m kicking a**, and taking names. I am so mad I could spit bricks. So what set poor little Pattykins off today?

I had three things happen today, and that’s what set me off to write my last missive on here.¬†

1. The Big Guy failed to say a heart-felt goodbye to my daughter (his step) since we will be gone for 8 weeks. He loathes her, but he could fake it and tell her he’ll miss her.¬†

2. The stupid kid from next came over and asked how I wanted the yard mowed while we were in FL. WTF??? ¬†TBG sked his mother if she’d do it. She does their lawn. She has a lazy husband and she mows their yard every week.

She must have told Stupid Kid to do it. I asked Stupid Kid SIX timeis this summer to work for me and he blew me off. I kept waiting for him to come over, and he never did. ¬†I was pretty surprised when he showed up today. I don’t think he expected my pissed off face. He never seemed interested in mowing the yard, but I guess his mom either told him he had to, or explained how much money he’d make every week. Short, little tyrant. He’ll get $15 for the lawn $10 for the apples, and $5 for weed whacking. I do it every week for free.¬†

3. My sister wrote me this nasty letter, where she basically said I was very wrong to mention on FB that I got food poisoning, because some people took it personally. How do you take vomit the wrong way??? It’s ok; I unfriended my entire family.

I’m actually feeling better. Nothing like two vents in two hours to cheer me up.¬†

Thanks for reading,

Patty

 

 

It’s Amazing I Survived My Childhood. Chapter 2

I’m not sure if I was planned or not. I am nearly 10 years younger than my brother, and 3 years younger than my sister. There was a set of twins in there, and I wonder if I would be here if they survived. I don’t think I would want to have FIVE CHILDREN in ten years. My mom was nearly 40 when she had me, so maybe she was worn down a bit.¬†

It is amazing I survived. 

My siblings and cousins¬†wanted to use me as a guinea pig. If I survived whatever they wanted to try, then they’d do it. I was superfluous. Until I was nearly seven,¬†we lived next door to my aunt, uncle and my two cousins. I guess you’d call it a duplex.

At that time, there was no door from the one house to the other. I had the run of both houses, and I liked going up to my cousins’ attic because they had a train up there, and some type of basketball game that if you turned it on the players kind of vibrated around. It amused me as a five year old, but was probably a boring game for older kids and that’s why it was in the attic. One day, my sister and my cousin Billy told me that there was a secret passage to the other side of the house. All I had to do was walk behind the wall, and I’d be in our house! Oh, God. I am so glad I never did it, or I wouldn’t be writing this. I would like to think I was savvy enough to¬†realize I was being tricked, but I was probably too scared, so I didn’t die that day.

Two yards away from our house was Professional Pharmacy. There was a garage with a flat roof right behind it. it had to be at least 10 feet high. My sibs and cousins were jumping off it onto the grass, and I wanted to try and they said, “SURE!” My mother came out just in time to watch her four year old flying through space onto the ground. I am not what was said to the older kids, but they never jumped off that roof again.¬†

Patty