Archive for the Big T Category

Thunder Storms, Bad Color and Lesbian Haircuts

Posted in Asshats, Barbie is a slut, Big T, Here's Some Philosophy on June 23, 2011 by catscratch

Well, after all the build… not a damn thing noteworthy happened at work today.

Not one phone call… but I’m sure the voicemail is jam packed with griping bitchery.  There was a helluva storm in the greater metro area last night and it appears Comcast can’t get it together fast enough to get everything up and running again. 

Phones by Comcast.  Internetz by Comcast.  So, I had a very productive day today not having to listen to people on the phone telling me why their homeowners dues are late and how they mailed their payment already and it must be lost somewhere since the post office just doesn’t give a crap and how the damn lawn care people haven’t come and trimmed their already well manicured shrubbery…   So, tomorrow will be a scary day in management land, but today… today was pretty good.

Anyway, over the last weekend, I went to the beauty supply place and got a gallon of bleach and went to town doing my roots since  God didn’t see fit to let my hair stay as blonde as it was when I was a young’n.   I’ve been doing this routine for years.  Color and trim my own hair.  And for years and years, I was actually good at it.

Until this time.

First, I left the toxic goo on my mop way too long and frizzled the ends of it. So, it needed to be trimmed.  So, I got the scissors and started to trim it.  All was going well.  Dead ends were flyin. 

Then it happened…. I slipped. 

No, not just a little gap.  A full two inches of my fried locks fell to the floor.  I stood there and tried to objectively assess the damage.  But, there was no salvaging it.  It had to be chopped off.

During this few minutes, I saw the last two years of growing this mess out, flash before my eyes.  Two years of babying, pampering, trimming… all gone with one bad pass of the scissors. Dayum.

Now, I was starting to feel my neck turn red and my pulse in my neck was busting.   I think I even felt my eye twitch.

As it turned out, I had to cut the sides so short (the back has always stayed short) that I look either like a really old lady with bad color or a short lesbian.  I’m still trying to determine which…  Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms with any chick that digs the girl on girl relationship.  I have lesbian family members and a variety of gay friends… so I’m totally not knocking anybody.

My problem with the lesbian scenario is that the cut isn’t saying I’m not a cute little lipstick lesbian.  I don’t have cutsie poo poo Barbie hair anymore.  Rather, due to the two toned stark contrast in color, I look butch.  Big T has taken to calling me Butch as a pet name.  He thinks all of this is freakin hilarious. 

My boss, texted her gay hairdresser and begged him for an appointment.  She told him she couldn’t take it anymore.  She told him she stops in front of my office and laughs.  Cold. Cold. Cold.

So, you see why I’m so upset over this whole hair thing.

Anyway, the hairdresser texts her back and I’m supposed to have my butt in his chair, on the clock, paid for by the company as a bonus treat.  I suppose that could be considered silver lining… bonus hair cut and color done by a gay guy.  If you’ve never had your locks fondled by a gay hairdresser, let me tell ya something… you have no idea what you’re missing.

Hopefully, this will solve all of my hair-do-don’ts.

 

 

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Stress, Surgeries & Strokes

Posted in Big T, Diva's Bitchin, life in my house, Miss A, Ms. N, Obscene Drinkin, psychotic episodes on July 15, 2008 by catscratch

Hi Kids.

It’s not like me to get on here and cry and wank over much…

And I’m not going to cry and wank today either.

But, I have alot going on right now in my family, therefore, I lack humor and sarcasm.

Well, maybe I have a little left somewhere down in the pit of my bowels somewhere.

Let’s do a rundown of everything going on and then maybe I’ll be able to sleep.

* I can’t sleep.  Lack of sleep is starting to whip my ass. 

* My Gramma is slamming downhill fullspeed with Alzheimer’s.  Fucking sucks.

* Today, while I was in the hospital (hospital #1) with Miss N (the eldest kid) for she was having bladder surgery, I get a call that Gramma has had another mini-stroke and has been taken by ambulance to hospital #2.  Today… 

* All at the same time that Big T is in pre-op (hospital #3).  Today…

* My step-brother, I find out, is in the same hospital as Miss N, at the same time, however, I didn’t know it until I was on my way to hospital #2.

* In the meantime, I’m trying to figure out how to transport Miss A (the youngest) back and forth to summer school (that the turd isn’t even required to take, she just wants to graduate a semester early.   Why??  So, she can sit on her ass with her friends who have already graduated and don’t work).  Great.

* I’m drinking waaaay too much.  I’ve grown tired of my Sam Adams Summer Ale, and have started tipping back Sky Vodka and OJ.  Nice, huh?

* All the while, I’m supposed to be getting ready to go back to Huntsville, Alabama, to do the closing on the company that our company is taking over.  SHIT!  Leaving in the morning for this trip has been in the works for months.

* Big T is scheduled for knee replacement #1 next Monday.  

* Then as soon as he’s somewhat healed up, BAM, #2.  I pray to God Almighty above that he is better when it’s done.  He is cranky all the time and it’s sucking the happy-go-lucky right the hell out of me.

I’m trying to be all strong and the supporter of the whole family and the Master of this here Universe, but I’ll have to be 100% honest.  I’ve done nothing but cry for 2 weeks, 3 days… since Gramma’s first stroke.

I try to hold it together.  I really do.  Then around 7 p.m. on any given day, I start to self medicate. 

What to do?

Anyways, I’ll be out of pocket again until Thursday, at which point I’ll come by and catch up with all of you.

Let A Little Sunshine In

Posted in Big T, life in my house, psychotic episodes, teenagers, That Damned Housework on March 12, 2008 by catscratch

 

Okay, so I’ve been piss and vinegar for the past little bit. 

 I really thought I was gonna blow a fuse today and totally short circuit.  If you’re bored and you have nothing better to do and you are wondering why I’m trying my best to be kittens & cottonballs*1*.

I hate that friggin feeling.  It makes me wanna throw up a little in my mouth..

 Anyway, I shut down the PC at the office with that feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, “Fuck.  Time to leave the sanctuary of my professional domicile and go to the hottest pits of hell wherein the demons of puberty and hormones live.”

 So, I got to the car.  It somehow managed to turn sunny and warm today. 

 

 I actually rode down the road with the windows down and some sweet 80s tunes pipin from the sub-woofer*2*.

 By the time I was about a mile from home, I was feeling a little better.  I’d heard a couple mellow-me-out-before-I-scream tunes, I’d thrown a shout out to the BIG GUY*3*, and I was breathin easier.

When I pulled in the driveway, Big T was taking a rest.  He’d been busy de-Christmas redneckin the bushes because I’d been bitchin about being the only house in the hood with lights left anywhere on the premisis.*4*

He stopped everything he was doing and came and gave me a big, long hug like a bear. 

With that man, good keeps getting better.  I might bitch and I might moan about certain things, but he really treats me like a Queen.  Queen Diva.

So, I came in the house, changed my clothes… a t-shirt and shorts!!!  YeS!!!! Sunshine and warmth.  Spring!  If only in typical Tennessee fashion and if only it will last for a few days, I’d be a happy bitch. 

With every weed I pulled from the flowerbeds left neglected by the previous owner.  I was envisioning ripping out one single hair from the heads of the hormone buckets I call my teenagers.

 Yes, friends and neighbors.  If you’re gonna explode, find your sunshine.

 

*1* Term enlisted by Mike which 100% demonstrates what the world would be like it all was perfect.

*2*Actually factory shitty ass speakers, but… ya know.

*3* The ONE and only Jesus Christ (yes, I’m a heathen but I’m also a believer).

*4* Every mutt in the neighborhood pisses in our bushes and I wasn’t gonna take ’em down… it’ll be Christmas in 9 months again anyway.  Why bother?

Redneck Week in Review: Cupid, Beer, Commandments & NASCAR

Posted in Big T, life in my house, Mushy Love Stuff, Obscene Drinkin, sex on February 20, 2008 by catscratch

Well, Valentine’s Day 2008 has come and gone, and as with any other holiday, to it I say  “Thank God!”.

I’m not a holiday type girl. 

But, Big T, well he’s a holiday type guy.

He goes all balls out every time.

Now, I don’t know about ya’ll, but Valentine’s Day is a big waste in my book.

Roses go up to like $49.95 and that’s without the baby’s breath.

Anyways.

When I got home from work on Thursday, Big T met me at the door with a cold beer. 

We all know how I loves the brew.

Then he followed me up to the kitchen, where he had some NY Strips soaking in marinade and big fat baked potatoes ready to throw in the oven.

Why, he even had stuff ready to make a salad.

I offer to make the salad, since I suck and  I didn’t play Valentine’s Day.

It was my understanding that we weren’t gonna do the Hallmark thing.

So, I go to change out of the workin girl duds.

He follows me downstair to the bedroom.

There was a dozen roses and some chocolate waiting on me.

I went into complete sensory overload.

Beer, steak, AND chocolate??  

Am I self centered?  YES.

Not that all the good stuff wasn’t enough…

But I started thinkin and wonderin if I was gonna get an opportunity to scream his name and leave claw marks in his shoulders…

The answer came after we LOCKED the door to the bedroom.  REEEOW.

Big T, you are the…

MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE AND YOU TOTALLY ROCK MY SOCKS!

Thank you for the best VDay ever.

*********************************************

I drank way too much beer over the weekend.

It started at precisely 5:12 on Friday afternoon and continued until 1:00 Saturday morning.

It started again Saturday evening around 5:00 as a little of the hair that bit the dog.

My daddy and stepmom came over to play cards that evening. 

So, in true card playing atmosphere, we drank more beer.

The more we won (6 games to 1…. they suck, take a lesson).

I gotta stop that crap.

**********************************************

I insisted that the teenagers in my domain read the commandments.

Miss A knew immediately that the majority of them had nothing to do with her.

She found it rather amusing.

The boy is far to dumb to realize just how rude and inconsiderate he really is.

And he was dumb enough to start on me in front of his girlfriend and my step mom.

Big mistake.

Him:  “Those don’t really have anything to do with me.”

Me:  “Shaaa, thou shalt not act like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Him:  “Wha?  What’d I do?”

Me:  “Thou shalt not argue?”

Him;  “I never argue.  I really don’t.”

Me: “Like hell.  Thou shalt KNOCK.”

Him:  *shurgs*

This is where I finally decided to fix this here problem once and for all.

Please remember, his girlfriend of 3 weeks was there as was my Mama.

Me:  “And what, boy, are you going to do when you come charging down the stairs and catch me and your dad buck-ass naked and havin not monkey sex like there’s no tomorrow?”

He turned red from his forhead down his neck and arms.

I think I made my point.

Now, please don’t think I’m evil. 

No more than you did before anyway.

This is a problem that’s been going on for a year.

It’s not like he’s a little kid for God sake. 

I mean you can teach a 3 year old most anything.

He’s almost 17 years old.

Why can’t he learn????

He has no respect for anybody else or their space.

I had enough.  I fixed the problem.

***********************************************

So, finally, NASCAR got off to a helluva start.

The Daytona 500 always gets my heart going.

Just like the first kick-off of the year in college ball.

And although my Jr. didn’t even have a gimmer of fookin hope of winning…

He did well to finish in the top 10 and I’ll pat him on the back for it.

Good job, Jr.

At least you’re in the points race.

He needs to put his big boy choners on and BE SOMEBODY!!!!

***********************************************

I wish I was creative and could come up with bling that was bitchin.

Until then, I’ll keep shooting the ones I get on.

For you, my girlfriends….

  The bad girls on the school bus….

Preposterous Ponderings, Leighann, RLL, Bella (even if you’re scared of bugs), Flat Coke & Flies, Olga (Meli-kali-laca to ya…. heh), Punch Drunk, and Lee

Constipation, Cramps & Criticism

Posted in Big T on January 10, 2008 by catscratch

Yes, as a matter of fact, you did read the title right. Constipation. It’s a bitch. Now, I’m not exactly sure how this happened, but it did.

It could have been the cocktail of cold medicines, Midol and Motrin I have been feeding on since New Year’s Day.

Or maybe it was all that gackity oil from I breathed in whilst preparing the spread of deep fried food.

Or maybe it was the damn Cheese Stix. Those Cheese Stix can apparently jack a body up.

Regardless of how and why it happened. It happened and I’m in dietary hell.

I don’t know if criticism is exactly the word I am looking for in this particular situation. Big T isn’t really doing that. He’s just less than supportive. Let’s think of a better word.

I think maybe a better description of what he is would be lack of compassion for his dear, sweet wifey’s intestinal discomfort. Yah, that’s it.

Now, I’m not really thrilled here, writing about my lower digestive issues. However, due to the obvious kick my darling husband has gotten out of my sorry state, I felt it an amuzing subject. Or I’ll find it amuzing once the Heaven’s open, angels sing and the pipes are unobstructed.

More than that, though. He’s being outright shitty about my current state. Pardon the pun.

“I’m gonna start calling you Roto-rooter. No, wait, that’s who we should be calling for ya baby.” He muses.

*crickets*

“When the whites of your eyes start to turn brown, baby, you know its time to take action.”

I just look at him.

“What ya need to do is, sit on the pot with your feet pointing straight ahead. Not sideways, but straight ahead.” Wisdom from a master shitter.

“Then, grab your knees and rock forward and back. Not side to side because that’ll just scare it back up. Back and forth. Got it?”

“Great, a shit lesson.” I’m less than amuzed at this point. “Why can’t you just go get me some Exlax or something???”

He rebuts. “Pay attention, dammit!! I’m trying to teach you how to shit.”

*blink*

“Medicate, medicate, medicate. That’s all ya wanna do ain’t it?? Maybe you should sing while ya rock back and forth.”

He breaks into a lovely rendition of Swing Low Sweet Chariots. Why that song, you may ask.

Because, if you sing in a low, low tone, it will rattle your intestines. Genius.

“I’m a girl, shithead. I can’t sing bass. How bout I sing Take This Job and Shove It? How bout that??”

I’m now not only constipated and dying from the cramps engulfing my entire being, but I’m annoyed.

Roses and Shit

Posted in Big T, Wacky Conversation on December 27, 2007 by catscratch

I know that post title is a little icky. But, so what. I try to name my posts so as to give a body some kind of idea what they might be reading… or not. Actually I just amuze myself by doing it. Both the words ROSES and SHIT will appear in the body of this here text.

So, the majority of my ramblings come from ridiculous shit and silly conversations that happen within my newly formed family surroundings.

Me and Big T have been together less than 2 years and only married for 3 months next week. Awwwww. Newlyweds. Even though we have spent alot of energy getting to know each other, there will ALWAYS be plenty more that the other doesn’t know.
I reckon that’s considered, the learning and growing process within a marriage.

Well, Big T knows the silly, mostly redneck, totally laid-back Diva. Don’t get me wrong, he’s seen me act all professional when dealing with these hoity-toity types with my job, but for the most part, he sees me as I am on a daily basis at home.

I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to write this crap without sounding like I have multiple personalities… too late.

Anyway, the last holiday season, we were together, but we both had our respective families to deal with and holiday functions to tend to and we did these things solitarily. OG (who is my friend and boss) is all about having a kick ass social life. We generally have a couple of company social dinners around the holidays, which includes folks from her husband’s company and other highly edu-ma-cated types from the local scientific community.

I suppose that would be the set-up. This is how roses and shit tie in…

Big T is a wonderfully simple, extremely laid back total redneck with excellent social skills and exquisite manners. He’s a blue jeans and long sleeve camo t-shirt kinda feller. He is totally not used to dealing with multiple people he doesn’t know in a social setting. Which is cool, because as I said, the man has top notch manners.

Well, this holiday season, we be hitched. So, now he been thrown into this situation where he has to come with me to all of these functions. Last Friday night, after OG’s gradumawayshun, we had our company Christmas party. There were OG, her man, me, Big T and 14 other people (all of whom Big T didn’t know).

Actually, of all the 14, I only scarcely knew one chick and her man. I was in the same boat as he was on the knowing yer neighbor.

Now, in this type of new situation, Big T tends to clam up. He watches everybody and hears everything… but he says precisely ZIP, nada, nicht.

I on the other hand could make some shit up about anything and talk to any-damn-body about it. At the table were several Ph.D types along with many, many masters’ of science types. Whatever. I am who I am, regardless of my surroundings.

Anydiddle, we ate, drank and I was super social and then we left to go home.

On the way, Big T had an epiphany about my social skills…

Driving down the interstate he says, “You know, you could fall into a bucket of shit and come out smelling like shit.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I seriously had no clue it was a compliment.

“Shut up and lemme finish. You could fall into a bucket of shit and come out smelling like shit. Just like you could fall into a bunch of roses and come out smelling like a rose.”

“Hmmmmm. And this is a good thing?” Still not sure it’s a compliment.

“Why yah. You can talk to anybody, anywhere about anything whether you know them or not. You’re comfortable around everybody.”

After a little thought, I figured he was right. I talked to a bunch of people about a bunch of stuff that night and never thought about who they were or how “hoity-toity” their life style is:

I was talking to a professor of chemistry about how I despise touching the door handles to get out of a bathroom because people are disgusting.

I talked to a librarian about my wildest drinking binge on a business trip in New Orleans.

I talked to a government contractor dude about how many Christmas lights are too many Christmas lights.

I talked to a labrat (a lil chick who does nothing all day but pipette samples into a tube for testing) about all of our collective children.

So, I’m happy Big T found me to be as socially acceptable as shit and roses. He should know by now I don’t put on a front or act hoity-toity for anybody. I is who I is and I’m completely comfortable being me.

yay! Gotta go. I’m thinking way too much for my own good.

Fiestas, Gigalos and Beeeeyaches

Posted in Big T, Lil T, The Inner Circular People, Wacky Conversation, Whippin it up in the Kitchen on December 11, 2007 by catscratch

There’s nothing Diva digs more than a fiesta. Well, unless beer is involved. And what would ya know… I got both over the weekend. My bestest friends Holly, Mario and Tausha heard through the rumor mill that I was making enchiladas and such for dinner Saturday night and that was enough for them. Holly said she’d bring some good stuff and we’d have a fiesta. Complete with rice, beans, salsa and chips…. and BEER. Yay! Come on over boys and girls. There were all us adult types, 6 teenager and 2 munchkins. So, I was cooking my ass off listening to the VOLS get spanked. (Sorry drifting off, a little annoyed it didn’t go any better than it did… interception throwin mama’s boys)… Anyhoo…I made Chicken enchiladas and homemade red sauce (mmmmm) And beef enchilada casserole Rice n Beans (refried beans just aren’t pretty, so there’s no pic). And Holly’s grub-ass homemade, garlic filled, spicy as hell salsa

We were playing kamakazi karaoke in the lair when “Just a Gigalo” came on. This is the point where Lil T (the 2year old grandson) informs me that he is, in fact, a gigalo. Big T confirmed to Lil T, that it’s ok to be a gigalo.

I tried to explain to him “You should be a pimp, it pays better. Say pimp.” “No! Gigalo!” He screams and runs off. It’s true. If ya have a choice, for goodness sake, be a pimp. Look, he could pimp his auntie and her friends out. He’s got every one of those girls wrapped around his pinkie finger…

And its official. I crowned my BFF (Holly) my beeeeyach. She’s a skank and I love her more than a squirrel loves a nut.

She is now in charge of kitchen clean up every time we drunk at the house. She is quite good at it. Reckon if she would have known I was gonna blog her ass and slap her picture up on the internets that she would have stayed in her PJs? Heh. Again, I say, you are a skank, but you are a damn fine kitchen cleaner upper.