Nothin' Ever Happens on Mars--er--Lubbock

Remember the good ole days when I used to post fantastically funny things that happened to me. Remember the rants about my job and the big headed baby? [Ah God, Glinda, I seriously almost linked to your flickr photo of her, but my inner angel just couldn't let me do it].

Remember the awesome parties and nights out at the devilport? That just doesn't happen anymore. And it's not like I've lost my cynicism or caustic wit (no, certainly not that). It's just that nothing freakin' happens here. You would think that somewhere in this town something funny would happen. I got nuttin'.

Perhaps it has a bit to do with the fact that I NEVER EVER EVER STOP WRITING FUCKING PAPERS AND TAKING FUCKING MIDTERMS. Yeah, it might have something to do with that. Jeez, I need a freakin' vacation.

Mmm, well there was that guy, a nicely dressed MBA type--should've been my first sign to stay away, who bought me a beer and then asked me what lotion I was wearing. I said that it was perfume, actu... And then he interrupted me and said, "Well I hope it's not Bath and Body Works bc I don't like to use that. Don't you have anything tingly in your purse?" Keep in mind, we're at a bar, and I just met him. This leads to him making other requests about watching him masturbate when I'm luckily saved by my friends. Yeah, see, there was a time when I could make even that funny, but here, no, it's just fucking creepy because it's fucking LUBBOCK!

Ok folks, goal for the weekend--I will find something funny to write about. It's all perspective. Yes, I will triumph!

NO NNO

I know you've all been worried about me. I've been on this good-hearted, philanthropic kick with this marathon and have turned into a kind, optimistic soul (or something akin to that). Well, never fear, Cranky is here.

Tonight is National Night Out, a ridiculous evening started most likely by a bunch of moms who had nothing better to do bc their kids were being watched by nannies and bc their husbands didn't pay enough attention to them. They even have awards for the best NNO party on the NNO website, but I digress.

The thing is, if I invited my friends over and we sat on the front lawns in our lawn chairs drinking beer, these same yuppie fucks would all sneer and call us white trash. Call it NNO, and it suddenly becomes worthy of socialite status.

And the worse part is that the only two people on the street that weren't invited to this little soirée were the reclusive man down the street who walks his three legged dog and ME. Perhaps it's because they know that if they invited me to their stupid shindig, I'd decline, but it's still offensive that they don't even ask. And what's even worse is that the only reason I found out about it was because I was out for my evening run, and I heard them all making comments about how I was wearing nothing but short shorts and a bra. THEY ARE CALLED TRACK SHORTS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, AND THE OTHER IS A FIONA SPORTS BRA. What should I expect when all of these women around here wear long skirts to run in. I'm not kidding; when they walk the dogs or run, they all look like this .

And can someone please explain to me why their pasty white children have to wear long sleeved LAYERED tops and skirts to play outside in 110 degree weather and 98% humidity?

Well, I'm gonna pull out my bottle of Evan Williams and sit out on the front porch in my PJs with the banjo guy I just met in the park while running. We'll invite over the recluse and his 3 legged dog, too. NNO, my ass.

Escape in three parts--part 1

The weekend is too lengthy for one post, so here's 1 of 3.

As we're pulling away from the house, we realize that we forgot something, so Edgy pulls into the empty space in front of the neighbor's house--the one with the "guest parking". Everyone remember this story?

He comes out of his house with his pasty kid in hand, bald head and goofy yuppie glasses reflecting the hot sun, and stares. He stands on his porch and stares. I'm in the car with sunglasses on, thank god, and E is upstairs getting whatever we forgot--oh yeah, the directions. E comes back to the car. Neighbor makes his move toward his black Audi parked in his driveway--the driveway that coincidentally is gated and also boasts a 2 car garage. E still hasn't found the directions, so he looks in his car and trunk and then goes back upstairs. Neighbor begins to panic. He paces back and forth between his car and his door, scratching his bald head with fervor. His pastiness is being replaced by a red line that starts at the neck and begins to rise like the mercury of a thermometer. At this point, I'm thinking that there's going to be a confrontation. Actually, I'm excited by the prospect of a confrontation because if he makes one comment to me about being a "homeowner" and owning his "guest parking" space in front of his ugly ass house, I'll just unleash the furor of 1000 days at PISD on him. His pacing, though, is more like a frightened rabbit than a stalking leopard, so I figure I won't get the privilege of unleashing.

E comes back out at this point, and we begin to drive off. Neighbor gets into his car, kid in lap, backs out of the driveway and into his guest parking. Then, he walks off with kid on his shoulder in triumph. What a pud!

Whatever happened to the Mertzes and the Ricardos?

I hate yuppies. I really do, and Texas yuppies are the worst. Mealymouthed mammaboy fuckwits driving a 30k beamer and pretending it's 60 and their anorexic creditcard addict soccermom desperate housewives carting around their anemic pasty faced little bastard children whom they dress up like Madame Alexander dolls with long sleeves and plaid miniskirts in the middle of 103 degree summer--the worst part being that they are from Texas so when they come over to bitch you out, they do it in the little yellow package of sweetness. Fuckers.

So the story actually begins months ago upon our move in when we put our boxes out for heavy trash but due to a holiday we missed a day. A lady came by and asked if she could have our boxes. I told her yes, please do. Not a second passed when our nosy ass downstairs neighbor who looks like Mama Cass if she tried to go Visible Changes, pokes her head and her big headed baby's melon out to scream, "Yes, please take it. I'm sick of advertising that we have white trash moving in." Well, I retorted with a big fat killer party with kareoke until 3 am, so round 1 was over.

Since then she's tried to get the whole neighborhood to shun the new white trash neighbors. Everytime they're out on their lawn with their little ashen children jumping on stacked up lawn furniture until it falls (a favorite to do on Saturday mornings in their little minidresses while the parents look on), they make comments about us. I'm always walking by and inevitably, I hear, "Shhh...speak of the devil," and then they all grin their little Stepford smiles and say, "hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii." Gag. And I can't tell you how many times she says, "You're a teacher, right? Hmmm...isn't that nice." I mean, she's in retail and he's a restaurant manager, isn't that nice? Who the fuck cares?

It got so bad that when I saw the pallid child next door (not the Mamma cass house but the one owned by a mommasboy and an anorexic bitch) in her Halloween costume and said, "oh, are you sleeping beauty?" the bitch said, "Uh...god, she's Cinderella, please" and picked her up and took her inside.

now the preface for the next story. Our lease prohibits us from using both the garage (which is falling down anyway) and the driveway. we are on street parkers on a street with not much parking, plus there's a fire hydrant right in front of our house.

So tonight, mommasboy comes over and requests that Edgy not park in his guest parking area. Stunned, having just come home from seeing his mom in CCU, he looks at him and says, "Guest parking?" The guy proceeds to tell him that the space in front of his house is reserved for his guest parking and he would like E to move his car so that he can park his car there. Edge neglects to say, "Well, if it is guest parking, then why do you want your own car there," which is what I would've said, but I digress.

he tells E that he should park in the space in front of my car. E explains that he doesn't because there's a fire hydrant there. Mammasboy says, "So?" So, E educates clueless about how the law prohibits one to park in front of a firehydrant. The guy retorts, "Why is that? They park in the street anyway. So park in front of someone else's house then" Futile argument, so E, tired at this point, says, "Would you like me to move it now?" Guy says, "No, I guess I can park in my driveway tonight, but from now on I want you to park somewhere else. We have guests from time to time, and the only other parking space open is the one across the street from my house, and I don't want to have to walk that far. I do own, you know, not rent. " Why in the hell E didn't tell the guy that the street is public, I don't know, but I swear to god the pallid no hair having whiny ass little jagoff had better not ever see me bc I'll tear him a new one for his mother to wipe.

Thing is, when E came home his wife was pulling into her 2 car GARAGE and glared at E. E waved and said hi and she, like she always does, stuck her nose up in the air and ran inside. Not 10 minutes later, at 8:40, btw, he comes crawling over. Who does that?