Lip Locking Grandma

Back story: Drizilla quit working because she was pregnant. The rampant speculation is that the Baby Daddy isn’t her husband, but Johnny Bravo, the best friend who filled the gap because her husband shoots blanks. Sadly, Drizilla quit working, but she didn’t quit chain smoking or drinking while she was pregnant, so when the baby was born last week she weighed under 6 pounds. /back story

Last night as I left work, one of the family members, I’ll call her K for now, said she had to walk to the motel and get Drizilla’s mom’s phone. I offered to give her a ride. She said she was very annoyed with the whole “babysit grandma” adventure because grandma kept trying to kiss her on the lips. “WTF?! My own kids don’t kiss me on the lips.”

She found the phone in the room by calling it, then she quickly locked the door and got back in the van. The conversation turned from Lip Locking Grandma to the parentage of the new baby. This went on for a full 3 minutes until we got back to the bar and parked. As we were getting out, we heard a beep. She looked at the phone and uttered a horrifying sentence:

“OH MY GOD! That all went to voice mail!”

I had plausible deniability. She did not.

Thankfully, Lip Locking Grandma is one of the tech-inept because she didn’t have a pass code set up to access her voice mail. We listened to the message and alternately howled with laughter while counting our blessings. Every now and then it is nice to stumble upon a dummy.

After that scare, I decided to go back in the bar and have a drink. K went to the restroom and I checked in on the Words with Friends game I’m playing with my daughter. I was sitting in the corner, minding my own business (while smelling that a lot of people in the bar need a good scrubbing-the sense of smell is killing me) when suddenly there was a huge ass in my face, all bent over and heading towards my lap.

WTF?! I am NOT a toucher/hugger/mauler, and oh hell no if someone thinks they are going to put their dirty ass on me. I stood up and politely asked Lip Locking Grandma to not sit on me. I mean, holy shit. There wasn’t a shortage of chairs, and I don’t know this woman at all.

That wasn’t good enough. She backed me up against the bar, hugging me while puckering up to kiss me on the lips. I wigged out and she went away mad.

What is wrong with people? When someone politely asks a person to respect their space, why must some people persist and get even more aggressive in their need to paw? I view it as extremely hostile, bordering on rape. It always seems to be women who do this to me. They just aren’t happy until I lose my shit, and then they are all hurt and I’m the mean girl.

I swear the next bitch who does this is in for a surprise. I’m going to dry hump her to the floor and ride her like a saddle bronc. I’m betting everyone will get the point after that.

Internet Juke Box

We finally caught up with the rest of the bars in America and got an internet juke box. The one we had before was the first juke box ever made and had all the original songs on it. I’m sure of it.

I was very excited when the guy installed it. My first song choice was The Passenger by Iggy Pop…something unusual, but not offensive. Life was good.

Of course, anything new that King Triton doesn’t understand causes a fight. He immediately wanted the guy to come back and take it away. He got into a rumble with Doc, who wants to rumble with everyone because he’s sober and hates life, and he pissed off Bagheera. I intervened and told him that it doesn’t matter what he likes, it matters what the customers like and he’ll like it just fine at the end of the month when his cut of the money comes in.

As I predicted, the customers LOVE it. It never shuts off. Sadly though, it appears the only artist on the damned thing is Lady Gaga and she only has two songs: Bad Romance and Poker Face. Holy shit.

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Gaga, but how about Katy Perry, Ke$sha, Brittney Spears, 3OH3!, David Guetta, Rihanna, or Shakira to name a few. For that matter, Lady Gaga has a shit ton of songs, play some of those.

There are a few people with a broader appreciation of music. Some people drag out the 70s songs, which is always okay with me. Someone played Paradise by the Dashboard Light last night, and it made me laugh. Even with the endless parade of country artists and Poker Face 25 times in a night, the internet juke box is better than what we had.

Keep Your Crazy, I Have Enough of My Own

We got around 10 inches of snow last week and the temperature immediately went below zero…way below…and stayed there for a week.  Somehow my hot water pipes froze and I haven’t had hot water for a week.  I am an obsessively clean person and yesterday, after taking a whore’s bath with cold water for 6 days, I lost my shit.  I got called to work early (and smelly) and I had a screaming, bawling rant in the kitchen.  Some guy who refused to eat in the bar actually picked up his plate and took it there when he heard me shrieking, “I CAN’T BE DIRTY!  I’M NOT WAITING ON ANYONE, AND I SWEAR TO GOD IF ANYONE COMES IN THIS KITCHEN OR LOOKS AT ME FOR ANY REASON I’M GOING TO POKE THEIR FUCKING EYES OUT!”   

Thankfully, my pipes thawed this morning and I was able to shower before work.  Once again everyone gets to live.  Some people are on very shaky ground.

In other news:  I am working on drafting a new town ordinance for all the men who bring crazy bitches to town and leave them.  I think there should be a fine just as there is for littering, and maybe some time in jail (or the stocks).  This is a serious offense. 

We have enough of our own borderline personality disorders problems, we don’t need strangers dragging theirs in ‘cuz let me tell you, when a woman scorned decides to twist off here, she goes all out and takes everyone down with her.   This town has a long and sordid history of Crazy;  it’s where I formed my curious love of good train wrecks.  There’s a big one brewing now and all I can do is watch…and place wagers on who will be among the debris.

Yep, I’m going to Hell in a handbasket.

Disgustingly Hilarious

Cartman (see Cast of Characters) used to work for the town, but quit/got fired for sleeping at work and being all around lazy.  He now works at the Cowboy and, surprisingly, ranks 4th (out of 5) on the Lazy Bartender Scale.  Yes, there are 3 bartenders even more lazy than he is.

Foghorn Leghorn and his drunk girlfriend were living in a camper trailer until it got sub-zero (and they got kicked to the curb by the friend they were freeloading off).  Since they both spend more than they make on booze and cigarettes, they can’t afford to rent a house/apartment on their own.

Cartman to the rescue.

He offered his extra bedroom to Foghorn Leghorn and his drunk girlfriend, and they moved in right before Christmas.  Very soon she decided the kitchen needed a good cleaning (I’ve heard he has as much dog shit in his house as I do in my yard).  Apparently it was so bad  she had to step into the bathroom to gag and when she came out she found Cartman peeing in the kitchen sink.

That right there is some funny shit.  I know I’m going to hell, but every time I think of it I can’t stop laughing.

Bitching and Moaning

I am sad to report that Foghorn Leghorn & his drunk girlfriend made it all the way to Tennessee and back without one drunken encounter with law enforcement.  I have to believe the police aren’t trying hard enough.

On to the bitching and moaning…I quit smoking and I’m not the least bit happy about it.  I came down with some nasty virus and when I ran out of cigarettes I was too sick to go to the store to buy more.  People at work started making a big deal about it, so now I feel like I’m an unwilling participant in something I didn’t plan on doing.  It has been 9 days since I’ve had a cigarette, 9 days of hating the world.  

I started smoking when I was 43 years old.  Until then I was the most hateful anti-smoker around.  I never thought I would be a smoker, but one night at the Harribalsac I asked for a cigarette, and just like that a bad habit was born.

So for the last 5 years I’ve been a smoker.  I smoked about a pack a day for a year, then I smoked half a pack for a while, then I smoked 4-5 a day.  For the last two years I’ve smoked 3 cigarettes a day:  one on the way to work, one half way through my shift, and one on the way home from work.  Now I see no reason to go to work, no reason to take a break, and no reason to drive home. 

I don’t want to be a quitter! 

I hear previous smokers say how much better their lives are now that they quit:  food tastes better, their sense of smell improves, they are suddenly healthy and vital, unicorns fly out of their ass.  Whatever.  It’s all a bunch of bullshit designed to make their smoking friends just as miserable as they are.

I feel like punching a kitten.

The Worst Story in the History of Stories

During Labor Day weekend, before things got really busy, a woman, 60ish, rushed in the café and asked if she could use the restroom.  Bagheera and I were at the counter rolling silverware when she rushed back out and snarled that we were out of paper towels.  She grabbed a handful of napkins out of the dispenser on the table and went back in the restroom.

Bagheera went to get paper towels while I continued to roll silverware.  I saw Bagheera walk down the hallway, knock on the door, and go in for about a minute.  Then she came hauling ass out of the hallway into the dining room, carrying a trash bag.  She hauled ass past me and said, “Please put a new trash bag in the bathroom.  I have to go home.”  Then the restroom woman stormed out of the café.

I stood there and wondered WTF?!  It was morning during Labor Day weekend, the busiest weekend of the year in Meeteetse, ravening hordes of people would be busting the door down, and WTF?!  I’m ALONE?!  What the fucking fuck?!

A few minutes later Bagheera’s oldest son showed up to help me and he told me why his mom came home puking and was now laying down with a cold towel on her face.  When she went in the restroom to stock the paper towels she dropped the keys in the trash.  Since she had just cleaned the restrooms and emptied the trash she stuck her hand in the little swinging door on the top of the trash can and right into a Depends full of warm runny shit.  The worst part was the woman who dropped the Depends in the trash stood right behind Bagheera and let her stick her hand in it. 

Things would have turned out differently if I had been in Bagheera’s shoes.

It was hours before I saw Bagheera again and she was green for the rest of the day.  There was also some random gagging.

I took over restroom duties not long after that and at first I asked myself:  Who does this shit?  I kept finding gum in the urinal…until I loudly mentioned to, well, everyone in the bar, that the person who fishes the gum out of the urinal is the same person who patties their hamburgers.  Now I find a lot less of a mess.  I seldom find tobacco on the walls or paper towels on the floor, because everyone knows they will get an ass chewing.   

Fear is an excellent motivator.

The Route

I believe their route is Meeteetse to Casper and I-25 to Cheyenne then I-80 to Nebraska and Kansas.  After that I see Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky and Tennessee.  Other possible states are Oklahoma and Arkansas, and as one reader mentioned, Montana (“You’re going the wrong way!”  “Oh they’re drunk.  How do they know where we’re going.”).  If they take I-80 east from Cheyenne they will nick Colorado. 

So the possible states are:

(Going to)

  • Wyoming–WIGSF, Becki, Heif, Jim, yellowcat, Leigh
  • Nebraska–Sparty Girl, FMT
  • Colorado-Sqiggy’s Mom
  • Kansas-joschaff
  • Missouri-Lulu
  • Illinois
  • Kentucky-Chelle, jsunshine
  • Tennessee-Stacy H.
  • Oklahoma
  • Arkansas
  • Montana–Shelia
  • Canada-Bob
  • Alabama-Maryisidra
  • Add your own state

(While visiting)

  • Tennessee–yellowcat, Cat
  • Nebraska-abbyqueenofall

(Coming from)

  • Wyoming
  • Nebraska
  • Colorado
  • Kansas-joschaff
  • Missouri
  • Illinois
  • Kentucky
  • Tennessee
  • Oklahoma-Connie
  • Arkansas
  • Montana
  • Alabama-Maryisidra
  • Indiana-DarcsFalcon
  • Add your own state

So pick your state and decide whether it’s on the way to or from Tennessee.  And remember, just because they take your license when you get picked up for DUI, it doesn’t mean you can’t drive and get yet another DUI.

I’m not sure when they will be back, but I will post the answers and the winners when they return.

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