I returned home from work last night to learn that James Hatfield, aka Papa Het, the lead singer for Metallica has returned to rehab. This breaks my heart to no end. There is no exaggeration when I tell you that I spent the night and most of this morning in prayer and some "hard" talks with God.
I don't know how the hell I missed Metallica in the eighties. It's not like I didn't have the same big hair as these guys had. But, somehow, Duran Duran managed to overshadow them in my world. I guess all I heard was "heavy metal" and assumed the worst. Little did I know.
My first introduction to the band was Whisky In The Jar. I couldn't get enough of that song. I made several visits with our main IT guy about downloading it and of course not getting in trouble... thanks Napster.
Years went by and I paid no more attention to the group until about a year or so ago (if that long). I can't tell you what got my attention, but since then not a day has gone by that I haven't listened to Metallica or thought about James. Oddball things happen in my life. Little things that most people wouldn't think anything of. But, one day while I was shopping off my Goodwill Outlet addiction, I found myself sorting through a bin full of bullshit CDs. As I rounded the corner of the bin, I found myself thinking, "what's the likelihood of finding a Metallica cd?" Well, no shit. I kid you not... I moved a disc and there underneath it was Garage. In perfect condition. That was the best $80 ever spent at an outlet. It possibly even somewhat cured my GW addiction. That CD has been in my car stereo since that day.
I also can't really tell you what introduced me to S&M, but I was completely sold. For the first time in years, I purchased a brand spanking new CD straight from the Metallica site. It too has been in my cd player since. I remember the first time I listened to it as I drove highway 17 to work that day. Euphoria? Maybe. My five disc stereo carries only three discs now. All Metallica.
And it's not all about the music and the band.
It's mostly become all about Papa Het. Something about him got the wheels in my brain rolling more than usual. The more I saw the man, the more I read up on him, the more I read "in between the lines".
At the risk of sounding cheesy, or sappy. The man is simply, beautiful.
True grit.
TRUE GRIT.
I have so much respect for him and his wife. No disrespect to the other members of Metallica, but James and his wife have been married since 1997. I not only love him, but I love her just as much. It can't possibly have been easy for this lady to not only have stood beside James throughout all those years, but to have kicked him out of their home 20 years ago. God bless those two. I couldn't think of anything I'd love more than to spend some time with them. Well, I would love more to see him come out of rehab stronger than he's ever been. And I do believe that despite all of his vices, he is strong.
I'm praying hard for you, James, and for your family. You are stronger than your addictions. But, God is stronger. And He is with you.
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Monday, December 5, 2016
Whoomp, there it is...
My first listing on Poshmark.
https://poshmark.com/listing/Authentic-Louis-Vuitton-Ursula-5838c2c7d14d7b5fbc04dbef
Help her escape captivity. Ursula has been sitting in her dust bag on top of my armoire for almost a year now without any love and affection by me. Kind of sounds like my poor husband. Please help her. And when you help her, you help me... an impoverished breast cancer victim with more handbags than Imelda Marcos has in shoes.
You see, I've never been a big fan of Louis Vuitton handbags. I have a good bit of admiration for Mr. Vuitton, himself, though. The man knew his business and knew how to cater to the wealthy.
But, I'm a handbag addict. Ursula came to me one night while I was surfing bags on eBay. It was during an Ambien moment that I fell in love with her feminine appeal. But most of all, it was the handles that got me. Because so many handbags are equipped with handles and straps that suck. Big bags deserve to have big sturdy handles, just like this Ursula.
And you know what Ursula deserves? A new home, just in time for the holidays.
https://poshmark.com/listing/Authentic-Louis-Vuitton-Ursula-5838c2c7d14d7b5fbc04dbef
Help her escape captivity. Ursula has been sitting in her dust bag on top of my armoire for almost a year now without any love and affection by me. Kind of sounds like my poor husband. Please help her. And when you help her, you help me... an impoverished breast cancer victim with more handbags than Imelda Marcos has in shoes.
You see, I've never been a big fan of Louis Vuitton handbags. I have a good bit of admiration for Mr. Vuitton, himself, though. The man knew his business and knew how to cater to the wealthy.
But, I'm a handbag addict. Ursula came to me one night while I was surfing bags on eBay. It was during an Ambien moment that I fell in love with her feminine appeal. But most of all, it was the handles that got me. Because so many handbags are equipped with handles and straps that suck. Big bags deserve to have big sturdy handles, just like this Ursula.
And you know what Ursula deserves? A new home, just in time for the holidays.
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Mt Unpleasant... Yankee Go Home
I'm angry and I'm cajun.
I'm a Coonass. A southerner. I like my southern food. I love my cajun food. So when I first moved to the Town of Mt Unpleasant, one of the first things I noticed was that there was not one Popeye's Fried Chicken to be found. THAT should have been a huge red flag for me. Little did I realize all that I left behind when I left Acadiana. Crawfish (boiled, fried), crawfish lasagna, Deano's Marie Leveaux or the Cajun Executioner, boudin, boudin balls, cracklin, Zea's, Don's Seafood Hut, Chris's Poboys, Old Tyme Grocery, Southside Bakery, Keller's Bakery, Poupart's Bakery (I've seen only ONE bakery store open since I've been here), real king cake, Meche's donuts, Ground Pati, Riverside Inn (best crab cakes and crabmeat imperial), Savoie's sausage, cajun and zydeco music, Festival International as well as about 100 food festivals, CJ Clements, Bobbie Novasad, Jay Walker, Rob Perillo, John Morgan, Jake Delhomme, Gravity Alley (God forbid there be any race tracks of any kind in this upitty town).
Forget buying liquor on a Sunday. And forget the convenience of being able to buy it at the grocery store. Forget drive thru, or drive up liquor stores. You have to purchase it from an ABC liquor store. And they close at 7:00 p.m. Thank God the pharmacy is open until 10:00 p.m.
See, a coonass likes their food as much as they like their alcohol. We don't eat fancy, hoity toity crap or organic foods like those damn yankees from the north. We like our gumbo, our crawfish étouffée, our shrimp creole, our red beans and rice... which is why I'm so pissed right now.
I went to one of our local Harris Teeter grocery stores this morning to do a little shopping. I have plans to make red beans and rice tomorrow. I looked. And I looked. And I looked again. And I looked again. I gave up. Surely I must be losing my mind in addition to my eyesight and got in line to checkout. But, it was nagging at me and I'm hardheaded. So, I got out of line and looked, again. And again. And then, I put the male testosterones aside, pulled up my granny panties and asked an employee where would I find the dried red beans.
"We no longer sell dried red beans."
And that's when the blood pressure began to rise and the headache came. I'm going to have to find another store to shop at? Seriously? You don't sell dried red beans? What's next? Milk?
Is there anyone with money coming out of their ass who might want to fund me to open up a cajun/creole restaurant/grocery store? Anyone???
It's only a matter of time before I open up a can of whoop ass in the aisle of a grocery store. Watch your heads and your little ones, 'cause the cans of beans will be flying. Those yankees have invaded the south and are ruining the food, clogging up the streets, and building apartment complexes (aka future ghetos of Mt Pleasant) at an alarming rate.
It's time to pull the pineapples from the poster bed and send them home.
And I'm cranking up the stereo until someone calls the police.
Yankees go home. Please.
I'm a Coonass. A southerner. I like my southern food. I love my cajun food. So when I first moved to the Town of Mt Unpleasant, one of the first things I noticed was that there was not one Popeye's Fried Chicken to be found. THAT should have been a huge red flag for me. Little did I realize all that I left behind when I left Acadiana. Crawfish (boiled, fried), crawfish lasagna, Deano's Marie Leveaux or the Cajun Executioner, boudin, boudin balls, cracklin, Zea's, Don's Seafood Hut, Chris's Poboys, Old Tyme Grocery, Southside Bakery, Keller's Bakery, Poupart's Bakery (I've seen only ONE bakery store open since I've been here), real king cake, Meche's donuts, Ground Pati, Riverside Inn (best crab cakes and crabmeat imperial), Savoie's sausage, cajun and zydeco music, Festival International as well as about 100 food festivals, CJ Clements, Bobbie Novasad, Jay Walker, Rob Perillo, John Morgan, Jake Delhomme, Gravity Alley (God forbid there be any race tracks of any kind in this upitty town).
Forget buying liquor on a Sunday. And forget the convenience of being able to buy it at the grocery store. Forget drive thru, or drive up liquor stores. You have to purchase it from an ABC liquor store. And they close at 7:00 p.m. Thank God the pharmacy is open until 10:00 p.m.
See, a coonass likes their food as much as they like their alcohol. We don't eat fancy, hoity toity crap or organic foods like those damn yankees from the north. We like our gumbo, our crawfish étouffée, our shrimp creole, our red beans and rice... which is why I'm so pissed right now.
I went to one of our local Harris Teeter grocery stores this morning to do a little shopping. I have plans to make red beans and rice tomorrow. I looked. And I looked. And I looked again. And I looked again. I gave up. Surely I must be losing my mind in addition to my eyesight and got in line to checkout. But, it was nagging at me and I'm hardheaded. So, I got out of line and looked, again. And again. And then, I put the male testosterones aside, pulled up my granny panties and asked an employee where would I find the dried red beans.
"We no longer sell dried red beans."
And that's when the blood pressure began to rise and the headache came. I'm going to have to find another store to shop at? Seriously? You don't sell dried red beans? What's next? Milk?
Is there anyone with money coming out of their ass who might want to fund me to open up a cajun/creole restaurant/grocery store? Anyone???
It's only a matter of time before I open up a can of whoop ass in the aisle of a grocery store. Watch your heads and your little ones, 'cause the cans of beans will be flying. Those yankees have invaded the south and are ruining the food, clogging up the streets, and building apartment complexes (aka future ghetos of Mt Pleasant) at an alarming rate.
It's time to pull the pineapples from the poster bed and send them home.
And I'm cranking up the stereo until someone calls the police.
Yankees go home. Please.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Bill Murray
I think one of the worst things about blogging is coming up with a damn post title. Most of the time, I'm here just to rant and ramble on about things that are of no importance to anyone except myself.
As like most mornings, I sit here at the kitchen table wasting valuable time surfing news sites, Facebook and eBay. All while the cat lies on the bookshelf soaking up the rays of the sun. She's an old gal at nearly 17 years of age. But she still looks good. And more importantly to her, she still runs the place. She's usually on the table with me trying to get to my laptop in order to enjoy the warmth it generates. And I think we all know that it's the literal warmth it generates and not the huggy feely warmth of the internet.
Today, I'd like to focus on the hazards of selling on eBay. As a member of a Facebook group who focuses on buying and reselling, I am constantly running across posts from a seller who is afraid of negative feedback. Today's post concerned an item that the seller purchased at a "charity" thrift store. You know, the kind that receives donations and then sells those donations in their store? Well, the seller is new to the game of thrifting and resale. She recently sold a pair of boots for more than she paid for. Shocking, isn't it? As if all those who sell on eBay are selling only to break even and not to actually profit.
The problem is that the seller forgot to remove the sales tag and now the buyer not only knows what the seller paid for the item, but is complaining that the seller has sold a donated item. And guess what? The buyer wants a refund as a result of the item not being as described. Seriously?
Sadly, the majority of posters are advising her to accept a refund. That it's just good customer service to do so. I disagree. Vehemently. Why? Because, in my opinion, many buyers these days have become monsters. Thanks to some big name retail stores who offer extremely generous return policies, customers have not only come to expect the same from everyone else, many have abused it. So much so, that I noticed one of those big retail stores have now tightened up their return policy.
There's nothing wrong with a legitimate return request. If the item was in fact not as described (i.e. described as blue when the item is actually red) then, of course, process a refund for the buyer. But, if you've done your job of accurately describing the item, and you have clearly stated in your listing that you do not offer returns, then you should back up your no return policy. Otherwise, you become a doormat, someone who will do anything to please a customer who may still bad mouth you in the end.
And for the record, I buy significantly more than I sell on eBay. My husband can vouch for it. As a buyer, I concern myself less with the feedback rating of a seller and more with the reason for bad feedback. I've learned that the majority of bad feedback is the result of a new seller who made minor screw ups while learning the ropes. I've also learned that some buyers fail to read descriptions or view photos of the item before bidding or purchasing. One that sticks in my mind was the buyer who purchased a handbag without straps or handles. The listing clearly stated that the bag did not have purse straps, yet the buyer left negative feedback anyway... because the bag didn't have straps.
So, what does Bill Murray have to do with today's post? Absolutely nothing. I just needed a post title.
As like most mornings, I sit here at the kitchen table wasting valuable time surfing news sites, Facebook and eBay. All while the cat lies on the bookshelf soaking up the rays of the sun. She's an old gal at nearly 17 years of age. But she still looks good. And more importantly to her, she still runs the place. She's usually on the table with me trying to get to my laptop in order to enjoy the warmth it generates. And I think we all know that it's the literal warmth it generates and not the huggy feely warmth of the internet.
Today, I'd like to focus on the hazards of selling on eBay. As a member of a Facebook group who focuses on buying and reselling, I am constantly running across posts from a seller who is afraid of negative feedback. Today's post concerned an item that the seller purchased at a "charity" thrift store. You know, the kind that receives donations and then sells those donations in their store? Well, the seller is new to the game of thrifting and resale. She recently sold a pair of boots for more than she paid for. Shocking, isn't it? As if all those who sell on eBay are selling only to break even and not to actually profit.
The problem is that the seller forgot to remove the sales tag and now the buyer not only knows what the seller paid for the item, but is complaining that the seller has sold a donated item. And guess what? The buyer wants a refund as a result of the item not being as described. Seriously?
Sadly, the majority of posters are advising her to accept a refund. That it's just good customer service to do so. I disagree. Vehemently. Why? Because, in my opinion, many buyers these days have become monsters. Thanks to some big name retail stores who offer extremely generous return policies, customers have not only come to expect the same from everyone else, many have abused it. So much so, that I noticed one of those big retail stores have now tightened up their return policy.
There's nothing wrong with a legitimate return request. If the item was in fact not as described (i.e. described as blue when the item is actually red) then, of course, process a refund for the buyer. But, if you've done your job of accurately describing the item, and you have clearly stated in your listing that you do not offer returns, then you should back up your no return policy. Otherwise, you become a doormat, someone who will do anything to please a customer who may still bad mouth you in the end.
And for the record, I buy significantly more than I sell on eBay. My husband can vouch for it. As a buyer, I concern myself less with the feedback rating of a seller and more with the reason for bad feedback. I've learned that the majority of bad feedback is the result of a new seller who made minor screw ups while learning the ropes. I've also learned that some buyers fail to read descriptions or view photos of the item before bidding or purchasing. One that sticks in my mind was the buyer who purchased a handbag without straps or handles. The listing clearly stated that the bag did not have purse straps, yet the buyer left negative feedback anyway... because the bag didn't have straps.
So, what does Bill Murray have to do with today's post? Absolutely nothing. I just needed a post title.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Piss and Vinegar
I may have found some piss and vinegar today.
"The father of the Roseburg, Oregon, shooter said he doesn't know where his son got his weapons, and he declined to comment much on his son's mental state, but he was quick to say what he thought was to blame in the deadly college attack: Guns."
http://www.cnn.com/2015/10/04/us/oregon-shooting-father-gun-control/index.html
Let's look at this from a different scenario. Suppose this dude plugged in a hairdryer and tossed it into the bathtub his mother was in. but he was quick to say what he thought was to blame in the deadly attack: hairdryers.
So, let's not blame the son or his mental state. Let's blame the hairdryer.
I'm pushing 50. I grew up with and live in an environment where it's the norm to own guns. For hunting, protection, sport, collecting, etc. Not once, in my 50 years have I known anyone killed by a gun. Though I have known people killed by drunk drivers.
I have credit card debt. Should I blame the credit cards?
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Wow
It's been two years since I last posted to this blog.
I have to say, since I began blogging, I have noticed a considerable drop in the amount of "pink" during Breast Cancer Awareness month. Maybe some people are finally getting it, that cancer is not something to celebrate. Hopefully, more and more people are speaking out about it and confronting people and businesses who continue to throw pink in our face every October.
Cancer is not limited to just one month of the year. It's a 24 hour, 7 days a week, 365 days a year stamp in our heads.
I sit here at my kitchen table, glaring out the window at a swollen pond wondering if the neighborhood Nazis have had the two alligators executed yet. It's not much of a day for me to blog anything about breast cancer or pink ribbons. It's a day of nonstop rain and flooding. It's a day I should have enjoyed sleeping in late. Something I've always enjoyed on a rainy morning. However, the alarm clock of slamming doors kept me awake and has now made me cranky. Oh wait, sorry about that. I'm always cranky.
This might give you an idea of how I felt when I got out of bed this morning.
It amazes me that when I find myself full of piss and vinegar, on fire and ready to blog, I can't seem to remember my password for this. Or it's late at night while I'm on the iPad. I'm old fashioned. I like a keyboard.
So, maybe as Pinktober moves along I will find some motivation, a little piss and vinegar and hit the keyboards.
In the meantime, since I can't get this song out of my head, I will gladly stick it in yours.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ak7vXSd7hcQ&list=RDak7vXSd7hcQ
Later gator.
I have to say, since I began blogging, I have noticed a considerable drop in the amount of "pink" during Breast Cancer Awareness month. Maybe some people are finally getting it, that cancer is not something to celebrate. Hopefully, more and more people are speaking out about it and confronting people and businesses who continue to throw pink in our face every October.
Cancer is not limited to just one month of the year. It's a 24 hour, 7 days a week, 365 days a year stamp in our heads.
I sit here at my kitchen table, glaring out the window at a swollen pond wondering if the neighborhood Nazis have had the two alligators executed yet. It's not much of a day for me to blog anything about breast cancer or pink ribbons. It's a day of nonstop rain and flooding. It's a day I should have enjoyed sleeping in late. Something I've always enjoyed on a rainy morning. However, the alarm clock of slamming doors kept me awake and has now made me cranky. Oh wait, sorry about that. I'm always cranky.
This might give you an idea of how I felt when I got out of bed this morning.
Current MoodCurrent mood:
Posted by 103.5 KTU on Wednesday, September 23, 2015
It amazes me that when I find myself full of piss and vinegar, on fire and ready to blog, I can't seem to remember my password for this. Or it's late at night while I'm on the iPad. I'm old fashioned. I like a keyboard.
So, maybe as Pinktober moves along I will find some motivation, a little piss and vinegar and hit the keyboards.
In the meantime, since I can't get this song out of my head, I will gladly stick it in yours.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ak7vXSd7hcQ&list=RDak7vXSd7hcQ
Later gator.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Freaked Out Friday at Five
Sigh.
As I write this, my mother-in-law is lying in the hospital waiting to be moved into Hospice care tomorrow.
Things come about so quickly sometimes.
She had been diagnosed with breast cancer about two years ago. All of the usual activities of a cancer diagnosis took place. A mastectomy, some lymph nodes removed, radiation and a few pills to pop every day. Doctor follow-ups, etc.
But last week she was admitted to the hospital. Her hip had been bothering her for quite some time and had only gotten worse.
We may never see a final report of all that she had. We knew the doctors had found several lumps in her plumbing. Or at least that's what we were told. Then it became only two very large lumps. It was reported that she had cervical cancer and possibly cancer in her uterus. Maybe in her bones. And then to top it all off, only 10% left of her liver.
Needless to say, after learning this afternoon of the Hospice move, I grabbed a pill of my own.
I have no clue what condition either of my parents are in these days. My parents went through an ugly divorce more than 20 years ago while I was in my twenties. Dad had a way of burning his bridges. Mom disowned me just around the time I got married in February 2010.
Life can be such a beautiful thing. But it can also be a heavy burden on one's mind when there is so much disfunction in a family and the addition of cancer and the oncoming death of a loved one.
It's Friday. I'm freaked out.
Yes, cancer does suck.
As I write this, my mother-in-law is lying in the hospital waiting to be moved into Hospice care tomorrow.
Things come about so quickly sometimes.
She had been diagnosed with breast cancer about two years ago. All of the usual activities of a cancer diagnosis took place. A mastectomy, some lymph nodes removed, radiation and a few pills to pop every day. Doctor follow-ups, etc.
But last week she was admitted to the hospital. Her hip had been bothering her for quite some time and had only gotten worse.
We may never see a final report of all that she had. We knew the doctors had found several lumps in her plumbing. Or at least that's what we were told. Then it became only two very large lumps. It was reported that she had cervical cancer and possibly cancer in her uterus. Maybe in her bones. And then to top it all off, only 10% left of her liver.
Needless to say, after learning this afternoon of the Hospice move, I grabbed a pill of my own.
I have no clue what condition either of my parents are in these days. My parents went through an ugly divorce more than 20 years ago while I was in my twenties. Dad had a way of burning his bridges. Mom disowned me just around the time I got married in February 2010.
Life can be such a beautiful thing. But it can also be a heavy burden on one's mind when there is so much disfunction in a family and the addition of cancer and the oncoming death of a loved one.
It's Friday. I'm freaked out.
Yes, cancer does suck.
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