He lost his brain, I think

Yesterday, satellite guy calls, needs all receivers in the house unplugged before he moves the actual dish. Husband and I are both at work, and it is busy, so there is no way we can get over to the house to take care of it.

I call Oldest. This is how it went:

Me: Are you still in town? ( he had plans to go out with some friends )

Oldest: Yes, I'm headed up there now to see if I can get some money.

Me: Before you come up here, please stop by the house and unplug the satellite receivers in teh front room and in your bedroom.

Oldest: How do I do that?

Me: You unplug the cord from the wall.

Oldest: But how?

Me: There is a cord that goes from each receiver, you know, the black box that hooks up to the TV? Anyway, take the cord that goes to the wall electrical socket, and unplug it. If the cord has two shiny metal things on the end, you have unplugged it.

Oldest: What does it look like?

Me: The black cord that comes out of the black box and plugs into the wall. If you can't figure out which one, just unplug the power strip.

Oldest: Uhmmmmmm, ok......I think I get it.

I hang phone up. My  customer is dying laughing. I can't blame her. Customer asks how old Oldest is. I tell her 17. She laughs even harder. I start tattoo, thinking Oldest was surely pulling my leg, that there is no way he can't know how to unplug something. He's a video game freak. He moves his game system from room to room. He has to know how to unplug it do that, right?

15 minutes later, the shop phone rings. Husband answers it. This is what customer and I hear:

Husband: insert Studio name, may I help you?..........Are you serious?.........You reach down behind the entertainment center and pull the plug out...........Are you on drugs? .......... Are you sure you're  not on drugs?.........Ok, there's a cord that comes off the back of each receiver......yes, the black box..........Ok, the cord that comes off each receiver, unplug it from the wall.....................Are you sure you're not on drugs???..........Ok, in the living room, if you can't find the plug-in for the receiver, just unplug the power strip........What?.........THE POWER STRIP........It's gray, with a cord. It plugs into the wall with two shiny prongs. UNPLUG IT...........It plugs into the wall.....Reach down behind the TV.......see that light gray cord?......ok, now take that cord out of the wall socket.........Are you on drugs??.....Are you sure??.....Oh! You finally figured it out?......Great! Now go in your bedroom and unplug the receiver in there..............It's the cord that comes off the black box that's connected to your TV, unplug it from the wall....

Phone hanging up. Husband, "He has his mother's blood in him, that has to be the problem".

Mind you, my customer does not realize that technically, I am not the Mom.

Customer yells, "Don't piss her off, she has needles, and she's touching ME!"

I explain to customer that technically, I am not the bio mom.

Customer is relieved.

I can not stop laughing over Oldest not being able to unplug something, and am unable to tattoo customer. Customer, not realizing this, asks me to please not tattoo her, as she is trying not to laugh, and it's not working.

We have to take five minute break so that we can both recover.

It dawns on me later that customer probably thought that Oldest is either on drugs for real, or has serious mental problems.

Wish I could explain to customer that neither is the case, teenage boys just seem to misplace their brains sometimes.

I must visit this candy store!!

I'm watching Extreme Sweets.

They are at the most awesome candy store.

It has chocolate covered crickets. It also has meal worm crusted caramel apples. And suckers with bugs in them.

It's like Willy Wonka of the weird and creepy.

I have now made an addition to the "Things I Must Do Before I Die" list.

I WILL see if they have an online sight, so that I an order these items and try them! Or torture Oldest and Youngest with. Ok, maybe it wouldn't torture youngest. He has been begging for more BBQ meal worms. Maybe Youngest inherited too much from me. Is it a bad thing when Youngest has favorite foods and one of them is BBQ meal worms?

Rice-a-Roni is not my friend!!

Someone please explain to me why it is I can make perefect fried chicken, make chili with no recipe, pancakes from scratch & so much more - yet I can't for the life of me make Rice-a-Roni!!!

It is one of the most evil inventions of the food world! I can stand right beside it as I'm "browning" the rice in butter, and I'll be damned if I can d it without burning it!! Ithink my record to date is 5 boxes of the evil stuff before I finally produced something that was even close to edible.

I wish I was joking - but I'm not. Husband thinks it's hilarious. Husband is wrong.  How in the hell can I fuck this up so bad EVERY DAMN TIME??

There is no way that someone who can make up their own BBQ sauce recipes, salsa recipes, etc can screw up the most simple of foods!

I thought about banning the evil boxes from my house, but I decided that I WILL WIN THE BATTLE! I can not let this little box defeat me!

It's become a challenge.

The day I can make it without the smoke filling the kitchen, or forgetting to add some stupid little package of powdered something or other, or forgetting that it needed milk (wtf is up with that anyway? Milk in Rice-a-Roni?? There should be a law against that!) is the day I become crowned Queen of the world!

Ok, maybe not the world...Queen of the Kitchen? Hell, I would settle for an award for overcoming the most evil thing to ever be invented.

Rice-a-Roni - be warned!! I will WIN!! It may be with my dying breath - but I WILL beat you!! (Insert evil, crazy scientist laugh).

Hair in my food...

Just the thought of eating a piece of hair totally freaks me the fuck out. Don't ask why, I don't understand it either!

Example: Last night I'm eating my home-made enchiladas and some Mexican Rice-a-Roni (more on that later). Underneath my next to last bite, there is a teensy tinsy lil old hair. I don't know who it belongs to. No one in my house has this hair color. No one has visited my home since I made this food last night, to have lost a piece of hair into MY FOOD!!

WHERE THE HELL DID THIS PIECE OF HAIR COME FROM??

Now my brain goes into overtime. Did someone break into my house and drop a piece of hair into the food while I was in the living room? Did some evil factory worker at the Rice-A-Roni plant place it in there in hopes that it would be found by someone like me? How much other hair was in that food that I ate, without a clue as to the horrible thing I had just done?

Then the gag factor set in. Literally. I had to force myself to swallow the bile that was building in the back of my throat. Had to tell myself repeatedly, "It's just your head playing tricks on you. There is no way in HELL that you ate a piece of someone's hair and didn't realize it. Just calm down, think about unicorns and rainbows or something." It didn't work. I found myself in the bathroom, on one hand trying NOT to throw up, and on the other, trying TO throw up.

I know, I know, it's not like a piece of hair in my food is the end of the world, or of my life. I mean, is the hair is going to lodge in my esophagus and start growing it's own family? Or that once in my stomach, it's going to call all it's buddies up for a party? Probably not. But then again, it might. And I think that's where my big fear comes from. What if this morning I would have woken up with a distended abdomen all because I ate a stray piece of a mutant's hair? What if as I write this, it's down there doubling or tripling in size?

I have a very active imagination when it comes to stuff like this. For the next two weeks, every little twinge in that area will now become an imagined piece of hair that is mutating, and will soon come through my abdominal wall! (Imagine the original "Alien" movie, and you'll start to see where my mind has taken this.)

Ok, I think I need to go force myself to not throw up over this once again.....seriously. The thought alone is enough to trigger that reflex where my body screams "GET IT OUT, NOW!!".

Damn brain worms, anyway...

We'll get to the Rice-A-Roni story in another post.

Holy Hell!!

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT look up "Brain Worms" on Google images. I don't think I'm going to be able to eat for a week. In fact, I may need to poke my eyes out with a fork!

So, since I just found those lovely images, maybe I need to explain a little!! By "brain worms", I mean the thoughts that will NOT leave you alone in your head. You know, those little things that start off small, but then decide that you need to dedicate your entire day/week/month/life to. Things like bills, ex husbands, assholes in general, things you should have done different, etc, etc. I sure as hell did not mean those monstrosities on image search!!

The worms must be working overtime tonight...

Here it is almost 2 a.m., and I'm still as wide awake as most of you would be at 4 p.m.  I'd like to say that it's due to the fact that the cricket that jumped out from under my pillow last night as I crawled into bed, scared the living shit out of me, and gave me a complex over crawling into bed again.  Not the case though.
Ok, one part of that is true - the damn thing caused me to scream like a little girl, and in the process gave Husband a mild coronary...which actually turned it into a funny situation. That's a whole other blog post, right up there with the time the Itsy Bitsy Spider decided he needed to share my pillow.
Ok, now I'm sounding like a girly girl, and that is so not me. I'm coverd in tattoos, I scare parents when the children get within 10 feet of me. (i promise, I won't eat them/sacrifice them/turn them to the darkside). You, the parents seem to be screwing them up quite well without my help, thank you very much!
And this is where the Antichrist part comes into play. I live in Smallville, Texas, USA. I am female. I have multiple large tattoos - some of them involving *gasp* the naked female form. I work as a tattoo artist and body piercer. Did I mention Smallville is predominantly Baptist? Yeah, it's a ton of fun being me down here, let me tell you! There is not a lot of acceptance from the people who preach "judge not lest ye be judged". I wasn't kidding wen I say parents pull small children away if they get within 10 feet of me.
I told you the Brain Worms were working overtime tonight. My thoughts are all over the place...I get started on one subject, and another pops to the front of the line in my head.
Now I'm wondering what chocolate covered crickets would taste like. I've tried BBQ mealworms, surely chocolate covered crickets have to be as good, if not better. Right?
Hmmm...maybe I'm going at this blog thing the wrong way. I'm an artist, should I maybe be drawing a blog instead of writing one?Who knows...
Ok, the worms aren't going to let me do this right tonight, I get the hint. Maybe I have ADD and don't know it. I seem to always have this problem. Start one thing, and end up in 5 different directions, and usually all at the same time.
Good thing I'm not one of those people who started a blog with the intent of a bunch of readers who fall instantly in love with me, and send me lots of money. I think I'd probably starve to death.
Death - I have a few people I wish that on right now. No, no - I'm not going to kill them, silly. I simply wouldn't be devastated if they magically disappeared from my world!