Archive for the ‘ Strange and socially akward ’ Category


My sweet lil’ baby, Keelan, is going through a hard time right now. She has recently broken up with her boyfriend and, while that is always a difficult time in a girl’s life, it has been exacerbated by a stalker. This 23 year old guy started working at Sonic with Keelan about a month ago and almost immediately attached himself to her side. The other employees went so far as to refer to him as her “Shadow”, and I believe that’s where the nickname, “Clinger” was first applied.

She was dating her long time boyfriend at the time, but this didn’t stop our Clinger. He repeatedly asked her out, swore his undying love and would NOT stop following her.

He followed her to Payless Shoes where she and Kessa were shopping one day. Freaked her out and her sister, too.

He told her he wanted to have children with her!

He went from charming and sweet to obnoxious, freaky, and downright scary in a matter of days. As a matter of fact, the first few days he worked with her.

I am happy to report that her breakup was not caused by this joker. However, when her feelings were still raw and hurt after she and her boyfriend parted ways, Clinger got mad at Keelan for her constant rejection, (she says recoiling), and he told her he was going to go to the ex-boyfriends workplace and tell him that Keelan and he had slept together just so there was no chance things would ever work out with them.

Clearly, this young man is disturbed.

After Keelan had been refusing his advances for about three weeks he started being really rude to her at work. Her boss, the owner, arranged the schedules so that they weren’t working together. However, that was to start next work week.

Saturday, March 5th, Clinger convinced Keelan that he HAD to talk to her about something “super important, and work related”. There had been no agreement with her boss about separating their work schedules yet so she was pretty sure he was going to tell her that he was taking over her friend’s morning shifts and would be spending every morning, ALL morning with her.

This was a tragic consideration of epic proportions. Think “major angst”.

Since Kee refused to go with him in his car, (I mean…REALLY?!), they were to meet at Starbuck’s…

The first thing to piss him off was the fact that Keelan brought a friend with her. (My girl’s no dummy and has survival instincts.)

Then, when the conversation didn’t revolve entirely around him, and his plan to woo Kee fell apart, things went south. He made numerous nasty remarks to Kee and her friend and ended up telling Kee that he would be telling her things that would depress her so badly that she would kill herself. Actually told her she would end up ,”blowing her brains out”.

She was a bit… agog. However, she had the presence of mind to tell him that there really is nothing he could possibly say to her that would cause this effect.

His parting words, as Kee and friend were dashing out to the car? “Tell (ex-boyfriend), I said, ‘Hi!'”.

Sunday, March 6th, Clinger got to work and his shift overlapped Kee’s by two hours. So, she’s thinking, “I can do this… just two hours and I am outta here”.

He was hateful, demeaning, obnoxious, and downright scary every chance he got. Many of the employees witnessed it again.

So Keelan got through and left work later that day. Then, the manager on duty called her and said that Clinger had just gotten up and left work with close to $400.00 dollars of Sonic’s money and hadn’t even bothered to clock out.

The thinking at this point is that maybe he had forgotten to turn it in before he left. I mean it was a possibility, though not very probable.

The manager finally got in touch with Clinger and there was, reportedly, a screaming conversation between them in which Clinger insists that the manager and Keelan conspired against him together to make it look like he had stolen the money.

Keelan wasn’t even THERE. The manager has worked there for five years or so and has always seemed to be an outstanding person.

The owner is pressing charges against Clinger and we don’t know if the cops have found him yet. Or even if the address on his employment application is correct or not.

If Keelan hears from this guy again, phone call, text, or, (heaven forbid), in person, we will get a restraining order.

My doors are locked at all times. And I am not usually a paranoid person. I MEAN, AT ALL!

I know I am continuing the Texan stereotype by saying this, but I’m glad we have guns.

Yes. I said it.

Heh. NOW, can I get some hate mail and consider myself a “real” blogger?

To be continued….






Enter Godzilla

John is going to kill me when he reads this. But I just can’t not write about it.

My daughters are… a bit weird. Not weird in the way that they are strange to everyone, just weird in that if they didn’t look like carbon copies of me, I would SWEAR they were switched at birth with…. some princess’ brat.

They are total pantywaists. Never has there been two more whiny, sensitive, fraidy-cat, sissies put on this earth.

OK, maybe the aforementioned princess popped out something that comes close, but I’m guessing that mine take the cake.

We live in SOUTH Texas. Bugs are a fact of life down here. And while we don’t have roaches in the house, it is entirely due to the quarterly visit of the exterminator.  And I know what you’re thinking.

Yes. I do.

Krissa, if you would just keep a clean house they wouldn’t come in. Keep the food put away and post little signs around telling them they can’t use the facilities…

WRONG. I’ve done all that. (Put up little signs in English AND Spanish)

SOUTH Texas. People who live on The Gulf Coast know about all this.

Anyway, since they were mere babies, if they saw a roach, or spider, or mosquito hawk, heck, you name it. Anything. They screamed for me. I became the “go to guy” for all things icky.

Damn you and your consistent job history, John! I was the one there with them, murdering bugs raising them and being their knight in shining armor.

Well, that was all a bunch of crap. I thought they’d grow out of it. They are TWENTY AND TWENTY-ONE years old, now. Do you know how many times I have heard, “MOOOOOOM! COME QUICK!”, and gone charging UP the stairs second guessing all the way about whether or not I should have brought the  pistol with me, only to find a “child” lying on her bed bug-eyed, (HA! “bug”-eyed!), pointing at a roach that is trying valiantly to die due to a toxic chemical barrier it has wandered across?

Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to have the most outrageous run-on sentences? Are you now realizing I don’t care?

So I calmly walk over to the bug, remove my flip-flop, whack it, replace flip-flop and turn to go.


Yes, I have made them clean up their own murder scenes in the past. It’s just a lot less drama to snatch a tissue or bit of toilet paper and do it myself.

AANNYWAAAAAAY, yesterday morning, I was sleeping in and all of the sudden the bed was bouncing and Kes had thrown herself across it and John, who had yesterday off was standing there. They are looking at me saying things about a lizard in highly excited voices.

Let’s be honest here. I was SOUND asleep when they came in. A gentle whisper in my ear would have sounded frantic to me.

So they’re saying something about come quick and lizard and Purzza, our ancient gray house cat. So, like an idiot, I do. I leap out of bed, (Once again wondering if I need the pistol.) I mean pandemonium, people. 

They hustle me down the hall and into HACK. (Longtime readers, will know that this stands for HalfAsstic Central Kommand. It is also the dining room. Whatev.)

Kes has explained by this time that Pruzza had a “HUGE” lizard in her mouth and Kes “thought it was a snake”, and swatted Purzza so the poor thing would drop it and it’s a lizard and it’s “HUGE! I MEAN HUGE”!

It occurred to me later to wonder why on earth she would want the cat to drop it if she thought it was a snake, but I never really got a good answer for this.

So I walk over and pick up the poor lizard and rinse him off under the tap, since he is hopelessly tangled in a dust bunny from behind the wine fridge, and take him outside.

He thanks me politely, sympathizes for a moment with me about the crazy people in my house and lets me know that Purzza still has good reflexes for such an old cat.

He moves off into the grass.

When I come back in I am looking for the MAN of the household. Hummm, there he is. Looking all sheepish.

Kes pipes up and says, “Dad was never gonna be able to catch that lizard, Mom. He was trying to use a paper towel to grab it.”

I dissolved into hysterical laughter and I’m not sure, but I think John blushed.

It’s a good thing he’s so damn cute.

Last time I was on here my life was falling apart around me. I was surrounded by appliance cadavers.

It were spooky, ya’ll.

Guess what? They all came back to life! I wandered out into my front yard to try to find the newspaper in the jungle of grass that needs mowing and apparently the top of my head was still visible. My next door neighbor with the immaculate yard called out to me so I took my machete and made my way over to the property line.

He asked me if my air conditioner compressor was running.

I stared blankly at him for a second wondering why there didn’t even seem to be any mosquitoes in his yard and then snapped to. “OH! Yeah, well my A/C has been running all day, just blowing away hard as it can and there is no cool air coming out.”

He then said, “And your dryer? It’s not heating either, is it?”

At this particular point I’m thinking he’s spying on me and the house is rigged with cameras and hidden microphones. While struggling to remember if I had been wearing clothing all day and what other embarrassing stuff I could have done, I stood there and listened to him explain that “A leg of our transformer has blown.”Everything in both our houses that runs on a 220 circuit won’t work.

Well, this is news to me. I do know that anytime that particular transformer blows my house along with the meticulous yard folks and the neighbors located in the two houses directly behind me all lose power. ALL power. So I just go ahead and believe what he’s saying and slip in little tidbits about how my good underwear is dirty but I DO have some. You know, just in case the theory about the hidden cameras and microphones turns out to be true.

After talking to him for several minutes I ascertain that he has called the power company already and they will be showing up shortly.  He mentions that the Homeowners Association would not only be grateful to me for mowing the yard, but appreciative for my efforts in donning a bra before wandering outside.

Yeah, yeah, yeah… I’ll get right on that.

I went back inside my abode and turned on the oven. The digital clock was lit up, but no heat from the cooking deals inside. (Yes, I know they’re called elements!)

It truly is a 220 problem.

Anyway, around midnight and with the house steaming hot from having no A/C all day, the electric crew got my power up and running.

They had to completely shut off the power in order to work on the transformer. Apparently the little sissies don’t want to risk any kinds of nasty little jolts to their precious little bodies. So we not only have no A/C, but no fans either, not to mention lights.

I ran a cool bath and climbed in with a flashlight and my nook. I was sitting there in the spa tub, finally cooling off and guess what I heard immediately to my right, on the outside of the large picture window that overlooks the tub? Men. Talking about the work they are doing. Muttering things about how they wish we had mowed and the mosquitoes are a bitch.

I am sitting NAKED not two feet away from this guy! It was freaky! I have a filmy thing hanging there, in front of the glass that I KNOW you can’t see through, but I know they can see the light from my flashlight.

So, eventually they wander off I kill the light and get out, wake John up and tell him there are men outside the bath window and he mumbles something about “Tell them to mow…”, and goes back to sleep.

Funny thing is that when I was reading my comments a reader named Carla, (a former lurker), figured out what it was just by reading my previous post. She hit the nail on the head!


It’s been a year of almost pure shit.  I am sick and tired of it and want it over with. It can not come soon enough. And, I know it’s not supposed to make a difference what year it says it is on the calendar. There is absolutely no reason to think that having the year change from aught nine to ten will make any difference in our day to day continuance. I mean why should it. Logically, it won’t make any difference at all.

And yet, it has to.

I know that it was very close to the beginning of this year when things started spiraling downhill. John’s job got a ton more stressful. We had Marital Problems. His health issues. Issues that weren’t even acknowledged to us by his then general practitioner, and we ended up finding out with his stint in the hospital for the better part of October. Yes, October in particular, can bite my ass.

Moving right along…..

Henrietta has decided that Kessa’s boyfriend is the devil. No. Really. She selected him from all the other contenders of people that she see’s day to day sometime in October when John was in the hospital.

It all began with her telling my SIL, who was here taking care of her while I was there with John, that The Boyfriend was a shifty character who was just trying to sleep with Kessa.

Upon John’s and my return she announced to us that my SIL was unable to sleep while she was here one night because The Boyfriend was going in and out the front door all night and he was trying to sleep with Kessa.

Of course the SIL had already alerted us to this latest rant and we were kind of expecting, well, something like this.

I came *this* close to telling her something like, “Henrietta, I know it’s been a long time since you “slept” with anyone, but it’s not accomplished by going in and out the front door of the house.

I just explained to her that SIL said no such thing and we had talked to her already and she must have misunderstood her.

Soon afterward, she indicated her annoyance with The Boyfriend in more ways to me.  Saying little muttered things under her breath about him being lazy, shiftless and no good. Rolling her eyes at the mention of his name. Said things like, “Oh, you know how that boy is…”

“No, how is he, Henrietta?”

Exasperated sigh, “Krissa, you know how he is!”

“NO! Truly! I do not! What have you got against him?! You’ve been badmouthing him for days and he has done absolutely nothing to deserve it! I stopped just short of telling her that he is just the latest in a long line of victims she has plucked out of thin air to harp on, (including me), and she is just never happy content if she’s not being hateful about someone.

At this point she stopped and told me that while John was in the hospital The Boyfriend threw the telephone at Kessa.


Oh, yes. She was certain of it.  He was standing at the top of the stairs and Kes was standing on the landing and she told him she didn’t want to talk on the phone and she’d call the person back and he THREW the phone at her!

I assured her that this did not transpire and took the story in and was telling John what she said when Kes came home and caught the tail end of it and was amazed that there actually was a tiny grain of truth to another one of her wild tales.

Old Blue was for sale during all this time and we had an ad on Craig’s List.


We were getting calls for it and Kes and Keelan were taking numbers for me to return from the hospital or where ever. Hence, she took the phone upstairs with her to watch a movie. She came back down to make popcorn and The Boyfriend appeared at the top of the stairs and hollered at her that there was a call for the pickup. She said tell them my parents will call back and he said they just wanted to ask some basic questions. So she stepped up onto the landing and he pitched the phone down like we have done a thousand times, except Kes is the worst catcher in the history of people with hands and practically never does anything but break the fall for the phone. (Stairs are carpeted, whew!)

So, as per normal procedure, she drops the phone and then picked it up and talked on it and hung up and that was the end of it.  OR WAS IT?

God, please, PLEASE give Henrietta a more loving, tolerant, accepting soul and fill her with the understanding that there is no one in this house that is pure evil and actually the only evil she has to worry about is what she brings out in me when she gets all bitchy like this… Actually, scratch all that.

God, PLEASE give me a more loving, tolerant, accepting soul…


How low will I go? Nobody knows…

Friday, John and I went to JC Penny and I took a gander at the clearance rack.  I walked into the place with a $10.00 off coupon.  I walked out with two really cute new pairs of jeans that cost me a total of $11.21.  AND they’re a size smaller than the ones I’ve been wearing!  “What size, Krissa?”  I’ll tell you.  One more size down and I’ve hit my goal!  Woo-hoo!  How’s that for specific? 😉

I put on one pair of them and wore them yesterday and Keelan remarked that they don’t make me look like I have an, ahem, “old lady butt”.  I considered this statement carefully and decided to let her live after all put it in the compliment category.

Both pairs of jeans are low rise, and while I don’t wear the “Mom Jeans” that  Stacy and Clinton on What Not To Wear are constantly lecturing people about, they are a good deal lower than I’m accustomed to.  I finally went in and put on a belt because every time I stood up I felt like I was losing them by an inch or so.

Then, Sunday,  Kes and I were running into Kohl’s.  Upon getting out of the child’s car, (actually climbing up out of her car, which is what you do with a Mustang…), grabbing the “waist” of the jeans and hauling them up, while pulling my shirt down and noticing Kes staring at me, I turned around so she could see my back and said, “So can you see any butt crack?”

She pinked up a bit, glanced nervously around and said, “NO MOM!”.  While deftly giving the ubiquitous eye roll.  She then had the grace to grin at me and comment that I need to “…get some tight strapless tops today.”.

I told her that I am wearing practically butt crack pants so she can just score one for her team and leave well enough alone.

Free toes, everybody!