Sesos de Caca (Sh_t for Brains)

One really nice day last fall, around 9:00 in the morning, I asked Maria at work if I could take her car for a quick test drive around the neighborhood. She had just gotten it out of the shop and I was bored, so I used that excuse to go for a spin.

She said yes, and gave me the keys and off I went, not telling anyone where I was going. I work in a rather remote area near the Santa Teresa airport; mostly just a bunch of warehouses and some vacant lots and stuff. Nothing too exciting, to say the least. So, off I headed towards the airport. I decided to turn down a street that has no warehouses on it, just a turnaround on the end next to the railroad track and a left turn to go back to civilization. As I turned left to head back to work I saw a HUGE rattlesnake stretched out in the middle of the road. It looked dead, but it really didn't look like had been run over, so SMART MEL, pulled over to check it out. This thing was about 4 feet long and it was just laying there, straight as a stick in the middle of the road. I pulled up about 15 feet in front of the snake, got out and for whatever reason, left the drivers door wide open and walked back to check it out. As I walked closer to the snake I happened to look back at the open car door and thought, "What if this thing is alive and decides to go crawl into her car. How am I going to get it out?" So I walked back and closed the door and again began my investigation of the creepy reptile. Having grown up in the southwest, I know somewhat concerning rattlesnakes and I know they can be very dangerous. However, with that said, this particular snake was laying stretched out and it wasn't moving. Its tongue wasn't sticking out trying to smell me or anything. (My level of expertise told me that had to be a good sign)

I walked around it a time or two and nothing. Finally, I found a stick, and decided to approach it from the tail end. (Now that's good thinkin', right?) Anyway, the stick was about 2 feet long, maybe 2 and a half feet at the most, because that was the longest one I could find at the moment, and believe me, I looked for a longer one. So as carefully as I could, I stretched out my arm with my stick just as far as I could reach and began to proceed. Now, the plan was to touch the snake on the tail and observe what would happen. Remember, this thing really looked dead. Well, I observed real quick that it was indeed quite alive.

Now, picture this, and you can believe it or not, but when I touched the tip of the tail of that snake; and I mean the INSTANT I touched that snake on the tail, that thing came ALIVE!! It turned around, coiled itself and started shaking its tail so its rattlers would rattle. I swear, I have NEVER in my life seen anything move that fast. Most of you have probably heard a rattlesnake at least a time or two in your life, (at least on TV), so you know the creepy sound they make, and you know they mean business, too. Well, up close and in person that sound will send a chill up your spine.

Well, just as fast as that snake turned on me, I jumped backwards, probably catching at least a foot of air, and in mid air, threw the stick at the snake, said an explicative that starts with a capital, "S", came back to earth and did my best to keep my wobbly legs under me as I hurried back to the car and drove myself back to the warehouse.

After settling myself down back at work, I retold the tale to a couple of my workers, to which I'm sure they said to themselves, "What kind of pendejo, (Spanish for moron) am I working for?" Thankfully, they didn't get carried away with their making fun of me.

I went back a couple of hours later, but my "Possum Playing Friend" was nowhere to be found.
Thank goodness!!

While I was sitting there; this time in my own truck, I started thinking for a second about getting out and seeing if I could find him again. But then I had another idea come to mind that beat that one all to heck:

"Leave the thing alone you KNUCKLEHEAD;" and I went back to work.

Jerry B.D. Doogan

This is story of a joke I played on my brother Wayne, a couple of years ago. He works for a local trucking company and over the years he's had his experiences with dispatchers and at least some of them aren't the most positive. One day I decided to write a scenario just for him, and then call his cell phone, change my voice and read the script. Then I hung up and waited for his call.

Well, it took about 3 weeks to hear from him and it was really funny because apparently he fell for it. I guess he finally figured it out near the end of the call and busted up laughing, but at least I had his blood starting to boil for a little while. He called me and said he'd been letting everyone he could find, listen to it, until one day he accidentally hit the delete button instead of the save button, and it was gone.

I chose a person that I thought would be the kind of person that always has a big stinking cigar hanging out of his mouth, with a strong Texas accent and is in general, fairly full of himself.

Here's the phone message he heard;

"Yea Wayne,

My name is Jerry B.D. Doogan and I need you to call me at 539-4215, just as soon as you get this damn message.

This afternoon I was hired by Mr. Russell himself, to straighten out a few of his bigger problems here at Russell Transportation. I don't know just how soon I'll totally replace the jerk-water dispatcher he has now, probably pretty damn quick though, but Mr. Russell said for me to start working tonight and that's the reason for this damn call. Again, my name is Jerry, my number is 539-4215, and I need to hear from you right away.

In fact, why in the HELL is your damn phone not on all of the damn time? I need 24 hour access to all of my damn drivers, and Wayne, if you don't want to be on of MY damn drivers, then you just keep turning your damn cell phone off, and that will take care of that, "Muy Damn Pronto", and I hope you understand where I'm coming from on this.

I hear through the grapevine that you're a damn good driver. I don't know if that's self proclaimed or what, but damn good driver or not so damn good a driver, I have got to be able to get in touch with all of you damn gear jammers in a moments notice. That is my first damn rule. Well, actually, that's my second rule, my first rule is for all you damn drivers to understand that I am more important than God himself.

I need you to go out on a run tonight, without fail. I'm still having trouble getting hold of your damn runnin' partner, Jack Conrad, too. I think you two must be like two peas in a damn pod or something, because it looks like he's just as bad as you when it comes to cell phones. Just because you're both white and you're both married to Mexicans doesn't let either one of you off the damn hook. Hell, I'm married to a Mexican gal myself, and I'm damn proud to spend plenty of time with her too, but that's not the issue here. We're talkin' about being damned responsible.

TEAMWORK!! TEAMWORK!! TEAMWORK!!
That's my damn Motto!!!

Now Wayne, I'm going to build a damn winning team here at Russell, and I can do it with or without your damn help, because whether you know it or not, truck drivers are a damn dime a dozen in my book, and right now I've got a pocket just FULL of those damn dimes.

So, I'll say this one more damn time and I want you to listen carefully,

My name is Jerry B. D. Doogan!! Call me at 539-4215. Damn it."

"click"

This was funny to me because Wayne said he started listening to the message and he could feel him self getting more and more upset; saying to himself, "Who the heck is this guy." And, "No way am I going to put up with this crap."

Anyway, we both had a good laugh. I hope you got a chuckle out of it too.

Full Moon over Texas last Night

Have you ever messed around at work and ended up the worst for it? Well, about 8 years ago I was clowning around at work and decided to show a couple of the guys, all Hispanic of course, my personal depiction of how a "cholo" stands. I guess I saw it on a cartoon or somewhere, but you kind of lean back on one leg and stretch your other leg out. (Please read the important note below before continuing this description) Now, make sure you have your outstretched foot in a position where you can tap your toe if you want to. (I think that's very important). Then, while you're in that leaned back position, slightly raise your shoulders back up until you're almost back into the upright position and you're there. Now, tap your toe.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Only try this position if you're willing to sign a waiver showing I am not responsible for any and all mishaps you may incur; since this is how I was injured 8 years ago. Actually, I think I was OK until I started tapping my toe.

Anyway, within a half hour I couldn't walk and I ended up going to a podiatrist and almost having my foot operated on to get a ganglion cyst cut out of the top of my foot. Fortunately, the pain and swelling went away and all was well until about 2 months ago, when it came back. This time the pain went away within a day or so and only left my foot purple for a week or so before it went away.

Well, yesterday afternoon at work, my foot started hurting again and before the day was over, I could barely walk on it again. It was bad enough that I barely made it to the bathroom when I got home from work, and in the words of my late dad, "It hurt so bad, tears were running down my leg". Well, almost. My ankle and the top of my foot had a big goose egg looking lump on it, A little later, I was explaining what had happened to Debby and she said I should call Dr. Rocky so he could maybe look at it while it was in its glory instead of after the fact, like the last time.

I called the good Dr's house and his sweet wife answered the phone and patched me through. The Doctor was in. He said to take some pain medicine and if I needed to, to come on over and he'd take a look at it. I let a couple of hours pass then decided to head on over to the Dr's house. Debby said she'd drive because she said I was in too fragile a condition; actually I think she wanted to show me all of the pot holes and rough roads she had discovered in the upper valley, but that's another story in itself.

Well, we went into their house and I took my shoe and sock off so the good doctor could take a look at it. I had already told him the story of the podiatrist and the ganglion cyst from years back and after his examination he concurred that it was indeed a cyst. After some in-depth detailed descriptions and explanations to us, Dr Rocky started talking "Doctor/Nurse" talk with his wife. (She is a registered nurse; For real, she doesn't just play one on TV.) Anyway, she said she thought she had some "such and such" there at the house and she left the room. When she came back, she told me she needed to give me a shot. Smart Debby didn't help much when she asked, "Isn't that a STEROID"? (Everyone knows what they say steroids do to guys, and I really don't need any negativity in that area of my body, thank you.) The "nurse" said yes, it is a steroid. So, fighting back the tears, I asked her if she was going to give me the shot into my foot and she shook her head and mildly said, "No". Then she pointed to what looked like her upper rear waist area, but said something about dropping my pants down a little bit. I think her rendition of a hip shot and my rendition of a hip shot are about 12" different from each other, but probably I was just nervous. "Side Note": Whether you realize it or not, there aren't all that many women who have seen my bare tootie, and I think I was afraid I wouldn't measure up, because I'm sure the good nurse has seen her fair share of butts.

Anyway, for a second, I thought I was going to have to lean over the couch right there in the living room, but fortunately she had me follow her into the kitchen. (I don't know if she noticed it or not, because I sure noticed, but her kitchen shutters were wide open during the entire ordeal.) The good nurse said I could, "drop em", or just "scoot em down" a little, that it was entirely up to me. Well, being the shy guy I am, I chose the scoot method, and I think my inhibitions are still intact. So I scooted my pants down a little, maybe a little too far, because I could feel my opposite cheek peeking out, but by then it was too late, I had to just grin and bare it. She put some VERY cold alcohol on the spot she chose and "WHAM", in it went. Do you want to know what she commented? She calmly said, "Gee Mel, you have really tough skin." To which I said, "Maybe it's a dull needle you're using, instead." She just chuckled and said it was a new needle she used. Then she wiped the area off again and said she hoped it wouldn't bleed too much and handed me a band-aid. A band-aid, no lollipop, just a band-aid. I pulled my pants up as quick as I could and we went back into the living room. She was probably laughing to herself as we walked in and I walked in feeling like a gelding, and an old one at that.

After a short while, we said our good bye's and our heart felt thank you's to them both and headed home. My manhood felt I should drive home because I don't think the boys could have stood any more trauma that night. After all, unbeknown to them, they were soon to receive a dose of some stuff they really weren't going to appreciate. (I guess I just couldn't see myself sitting in the passenger seat, feeling like a real panty waist while Debby drove us both home. I wouldn't know whether to cross my legs or just sit daintily).

Actually, it wasn't as bad as I make out. Dr Rocky and his wife are some of the very best people I know. They are both fun to be around and both have gone above and beyond in helping me in the many ways they have. I hope I can someday repay them both for all they have done for me. Thank You, both.

Don't Be Jealous!!

You will not believe what I got to do tonight here at the house.

Debby and I were on our way home from delivering our old dryer to the Young Women's garage sale site when she popped the big question: "Do you think you could pull my hair through the cap when we get home?" Well, as you can imagine, I was all a-quiver with excitement at just the thought of this experience, as it only comes around a couple of times a year.

So this is how it went; We met in the den. She came in with her hair cap on, (you know, the plastic one with all of the little circles on it with the little holes inside the circles where you jab an embroidery hook in it and twist around until you find a clump of hair and "gently" pull it out through the hole), and me with my shoes off and my pants half unbuttoned for comfort, sitting in a chair with Debby sitting on the floor between my legs. Methodically, I began the task, and since I'm the guy who gets regularly accused of being anal retentive, I naturally chose to proceed in neat horizontal rows, like a typewriter. I poked into each little hole from left to right until I reached the seam of the cap, then came back to the left seam and repeated the process down the back of her head, until I had what looked almost like a full 6" wide mo-hawk. I was pretty proud of myself at this point, because usually by this time Debby would be half in tears or at least have a fairly strong stink face on; claiming I was trying to poke a hole in her head. Well I guess she finally couldn't take it any more because she felt the need to "demonstrate" and explain that I should be pushing the embroidery hook in at an "angle", to go on the "side" of the scalp instead of straight in. DUH!!!!! (Or my all time favorite, DOY!!!!!)

I said that I WAS going in at an angle and she wiped her tears and was fairly quiet until the process was complete. (I don't know if she was controlling herself by practicing some sort of zen thing or if she just went to her quiet place.) Anyway, Debby reached up to feel if she thought it was indeed good enough to stop the torture, and fortunately for both of us, it was.

So as she stood up to go put a bunch of goop on the hair that was poking out, I glanced to see the beautiful job I had done and the hair sticking out reminded me of one of those hairy little dogs that always yap at everything, I don't know what they are called, but her hair looked like one of those dogs. My mental picture of that poor little pup showed a wide eyed, wild haired, in shock looking stare. Quiet, somehow knowing he or she just barely missed being electrocuted from chewing on the extension cord under the Christmas tree.

Anyway, off Debby went and applied the stuff to make her hair whatever color she chose, then an hour later into the shower to rinse off. When she came out I made the usual mistake of asking how it turned out, to which I was informed, " I don't know yet, I'll have to wait until in the morning."

I don't know if she's telling the truth about that, or if shes still stuck in her quiet place and doesn't want to come out.

Those Flippin Weeds

This afternoon, it was me against the weeds. Again!!

I guess it's because of all of the rain we received in January, but we have a butt load of weeds this year. Two weeks ago I sprayed all of the weeds. Then last week I sprayed all of the weeds, again. In most of the spots it looked like there was some positive effect, but then in other areas it looked like I had sprayed weed fertilizer on them, because there were some big bunches of the weeds that were just "waving in the air", and "smilin" at me every time I'd look at them.

So, to wipe the smile off of those stinkin weeds faces that were so friendly, I went out and pulled them all up. Their smiles went away, along with their scrawny long green necks and if it hadn't been for their sticker friends that poked the crap out of my hands, I would have had the last laugh.

I hope they all at least got to laugh themselves to death after I threw them into the trash can and closed the dark stinky lid.

Oh yea, after that, I went out to the front yard and mowed all of their little cousins heads off; and I smiled.