catelin: (looking up)
( Jun. 15th, 2008 07:35 pm)
Texas is officially hotter than hell.  I thought we might escape the usual blistering heat since it took a little longer to get here, but it was just jacking with me.  Along with the heat, new neighbors moved in down the street.  The former owners divorced and rented the place to a woman who seems to be dating this guy. 

Seriously, and I'm not even kidding.  Our new neighbor.  Down to the beater tan and tube socks.  We call him Dougie Nunchucks.  He drives an old brown Chevy with paper tags.  I really don't even know if he actually lives there.  He's here almost every weekend to knock back a few malt liquors and exchange crabs with his old lady.  Alas, the afterglow generally includes a good fight between them and him yelling "Fuck you, bitch" as he tears down the street in all his white trash glass-packed glory.  He is spectacular!

I broke my toe getting into the shower yesterday.  It hurt like a mutha and looks gnarly enough today to gain the respect of my two boys.  It got two hearty Whoas! from each of them.

Work is awful and wonderful at once.  People are hurting or killing their kids in record numbers this year.  It's been depressing, to say the least, but I do have a sense of accomplishment when I manage to fight the monsters and win.

I'm writing a little more, but still focusing more on things that get my hands dirty.  It's hard to get back into the habit after so much time spent with more active sorts of art.  My man and I are going to start working on some sculpture projects that will be messy with concrete and Mexican tile.  Funny, I used to wish for a collaborator for stuff like this--a partner that I could make art with--and now I have one.  It's an entirely different process than working alone and I'm really looking forward to seeing what we create together.

Summertime.  And the living really is easy.
On the jury trial menu this week--a new twist on the famous diet. Our spokesperson? A 3-time loser who left his toddler in the car at Subway with the windows open and the keys inside. Lost at least 20 pounds right there. How can I get on this new fad diet you ask? Well, instead of ordering a tasty sandwich, you lock yourself in the bathroom, shoot up some crank; then crawl into the ceiling when you hear the cops looking for the parents of the child you left in the car. Cued by the rave-inspired strobe effect of the cop's flashlight, you take a brisk aerobic spin around the ceiling tiles until you come crashing down into the manager's office. Check your heart rate. Not high enough? A nice dive through the plate glass window should get you right into your fat-burning zone. Once the police have you cuffed you can still diminish yourself further by looking at your crying child and telling the cops, "That ain't my kid."
Snooty Prozac Mom (I should note for the record that I don't know if she's actually on Prozac, but that's what I call her because she bugs the shit out of me.) came up to me this morning as I was dropping my son off at school. She's always giving me the know, the look that is part "Jesus loves you" and part "I would kill you if I could, but the Lord will send you to hell if I pray hard enough." (Her husband is a pervert who gets a hard-on everytime I see him at school. Not sure if it's me or the kids...he's that kinda creepy-crawly guy.) She once had the nerve to ask my five-year-old if his mommy took him to church. I told him that we go to church every time we go outside. Anyway, this is some background on why this religious nut case was on my last nerve this morning.

So Snooty PM comes skippity-skipping up to me, gives me her silly putty smile and says,"Oh, hello dear! We were thinking about meeting this morning to discuss the possibility of a before-school prayer group next year. Would you be interested in joining us?"

"Gee, that's very nice of you," I replied sweetly, "but I have to be at the jail in about an hour to interview some guy that got ass-raped with a toothbrush holder by a couple of his cell mates. Maybe some other time?"

I know, I know. Bad, bad Cate! Not nice to pick on the poor inbreeds of the world! But just thinking about her pasty green face still makes me giggle.
Just want to send out a special "FUCK YOU" to Neal Horsley and all the other inbred psychotic sperms-gone-bad out there in the Army of God. You know, some days I can see why most of the country thinks that the South is full of morons. Gawd!! Blech!!
catelin: (Default)
( Feb. 4th, 2001 09:32 pm)
I was the badass spring cleanin' mama today! I even used power tools to put shelves up in my garage. I went to Home Depot. I bought wood!! Big long planks of the shit, twice my size and then some. I bought brackets, screws, washers, all sorts of hardware-y kinda stuff. Then I hit the garden section and got some nasty evil poison to kill the several colonies of fire ants that will soon regret infesting my little yard. I put on my goggles and my boots, with my white trash t-shirt that shows off my sagging tits in all their glory, and told the kids..."Get outta the way, Mama's fixin' to use the Weedeater!"


catelin: (Default)


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