Archive | May 2012

Mending Fences with the Preacher’s Daughters


Yes, the photo above is of our wonderful attempt at building a makeshift fence.  My sister, Fallen Angel, needed to fix it where the horses could be let out into a different part of the pasture to graze.  Unfortunately, during our attempts to make some extra cash, she sold the panels that were originally along this part of the fence.  So Thursday evening after dinner she asked if I would help her fix the fence.  She had cooked dinner so I couldn’t really say no.  She tends to do things like that.  She bribes me with food or empty compliments.  I always know what she’s up to, but I let her get away with it anyway.

Fallen Angel, Little Bubba, and I drove the truck across the road to the pasture.  She cranked up the stereo and we got to work.  Well, sort of.  A really good song came on and

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Buying the Farm with the Preacher’s Daughters

Over the past few months my sister, Fallen Angel, and I have been trying to figure out ways to help my parents save their house and land here in Mississippi, lovingly called “the Farm.”  My parents moved away about a year ago, and since that time they have not been able to sell the Farm.  It’s also been increasingly difficult for them to keep up with the mortgage payments.  Fallen Angel decided that she would move back here and try to make the payments and buy it for herself in the process.  So in our brainstorming on how to make money for the payments, we came up with a couple of good ideas, and several crazy ideas.  I would like to share with you some of those fundraising ideas.

If you don’t use it, sell it.

My sister’s first idea was to start selling off everything that we didn’t need.  This included things like scaffolding that the Preacher had left here when they moved.  He also left a shop and shed full of miscellaneous tools, equipment, and general crap.  Most of the important and valuable stuff he took with him on his last trip, and he left the general crap for us to clean up and deal with.  That’s just how the Preacher rolls.

So as part of Fallen Angel’s master plan she began listing things on  It took a while, but she did manage to sell off some of the bigger stuff.  The biggest thing, literally, was a tractor trailer container that the Preacher had bought several years ago and was using as a storage container.  She hated that thing, and it was a giant eyesore that was not-so-strategically placed right next to the little cabin here.  I had to listen to her bitch about that thing for weeks before she finally sold it to a Cajun for a thousand bucks.  That was almost one mortgage payment.  We were doing well so far, or so we thought.

In the event of rain.

Her next plan was to have a Trail Ride  Crawfish Boil, charge per person, and have a live band to entertain everyone.  It sounded simple enough.  Nothing is ever that simple when the Preacher’s Daughters are in charge.  We started out $1,500 in the hole, and before it was over, we were $3,000 in the hole.  I’d call that a bust.

We started out with the best of intentions and plans, but by the end we were frustrated and severely depressed.  It took a month of planning, organizing, building, cleaning, advertising, and promoting.  I’m not usually the outdoorsy type anyway, and it seemed that almost everything I had to do that week was outside in the Godforsaken Mississippi heat and humidity.  When I start sweating, it’s time to go inside where there is air conditioning and iced tea.  I couldn’t do that though, because there was too much shit to do before the big day, and sis had to work during the day.  So it was left up to me and our wonderful downstairs tenant, MW (Miracle Worker), to get most everything done.  Just so you know, MW is married, so no, I am not going to try to seduce him.  I wouldn’t try even if he was not married.  He’s a great guy, but besides my sister forbidding me, I know better.   MW’s wife, AW (Awesome Woman), is just that, awesome.  She is a really nice hot redhead who wears short shorts and can fix cars.  Need I say more?

The days leading up to it were even more stressful because the weather forecast was not looking good.  There was a high chance of rain and thunderstorms for Saturday.  This was not part of our grand plan.  In fact, we had not even thought about what we would do in the event of rain.  As we scrambled to come up with a contingency plan, my sister began to slowly fall apart.  We were glued to the weather radar on our phones.  We watched as a large green mass moved towards us.  I tried to keep her calm by telling her that the rain would probably go around us, which it looked like it would, but that didn’t really help.  We debated cancelling the whole thing, but it was so late that we thought at the very least we could have the crawfish boil that evening and might still make enough to break even.

OK, so then the big day came.  On Saturday morning Fallen Angel loaded up her horses and left to go on the trail ride.  Little Bubba and I did what we could to finish getting everything ready.  He, AW and I went into town and stood on the corner with a sign trying to entice people into coming that night.  I don’t think it worked.  My sister called me later that day and said the trail ride was over and she was on her way back to the Farm.  The next thing on our to-do list was to go pay for the crawfish so that our friend could pick them up.  This was my mission.

When I got to the place I handed the guy a check and he gave me a funny look.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I forgot to tell her that I don’t take checks.”  Great.  I tried to explain to him that she was busy getting everything ready, and I was sent to pay for it and all I had was a check.  He wasn’t budging.  So I had to go all the way back to the Farm and pick up my sister and Little Bubba and head back to the crawfish place.  Little Bubba was in the backseat screaming, Fallen Angel was having a total melt-down, and I was trying to drive and not have my own panic attack.

Thanks to a little help from our friends, we managed to pay for the crawfish, pick it up and head back to the Farm with very little time to spare.  Then the band showed up.  It was like a rock  roll redneck pickup truck caravan, all led by the Drummer.  For the next part to make sense, I need to give you a little back story on the band.  My sister had called the Drummer the day before and told him about the dreary forecast.  The $200 stage that we had built for them was in the open and uncovered.  Since it was probably going to rain at some point, we seriously considered cancelling the band.  The Drummer insisted that he had 15 people coming to hear them, and that the threat of rain had passed, so it was all cool.  Since he said he had 15 people coming, my sister figured that they would at least cover the cost of the band, so she agreed to have them still come and play.  However, his 15 fans did not show up and instead, he had added members to the band, members who had been told they could eat all the crawfish and drink all the beer they wanted.  Not cool.  There were only supposed to be four people in the band, not six and a roadie crew.  I have to say this one thing, and being a musician myself, albeit not professional, I can say it.  I have come to realize that musicians are some of the flakiest sons of bitches around (i.e. Rocketman and Mountain Man).

So in all actuality we ended up paying not the agreed $400 and a case of beer for the band, but $400, two cases of beer, and about 50 pounds of crawfish.  (One of the band members snuck out with a bag of crawfish before leaving that night.)  Really professional guys.  We won’t be hiring them again, and I certainly won’t be playing with them again.

Like I said, after it was all over we ended up deeper in the hole than we were when we started.  The threat of rain scared off most of the horse people and I guess it scared off most of the crawfish lovers as well.

Total cost: $1,500

Part 2 of Plan B.

While planning the crawfish boil we continued to roll around other money making ideas.  One of our earliest, and one of my personal favorites, was renting the cabin.  The cabin, now named Dolly’s Cabin (you will understand why in a minute), is a small one room cabin with a bathroom that the Preacher had built to use as his office.  Fallen Angel and I were talking about renting it out either nightly or by the weekend.  It sounded like a great idea to me.  We weren’t using it for anything, so why not?  I suggested to Fallen Angel that we offer the cabin for $50 per night, with the option of adding a Preacher’s Daughter for an extra $50, but she vetoed me on that one.  LOL

Once we decided to rent it we realized that it needed some work.  We cleared out all of the Preacher’s crap, moved in a bed, chair, mini-fridge, microwave and tv.  Then we went to Wal-Mart and bought a very cute bedding set.  It has kind of a fishing/outdoorsy theme to it which I thought would look perfect in Dolly’s Cabin.  I even put a small coffee maker and a basket of goodies.  We already had a nice set of towels and matching bathroom rugs that we put in it.  After adding a few decorative items to make it look really cozy, it was ready to go.

She rented it to a lady who was coming to the crawfish boil that weekend.  Her and her friend wanted it for Friday and Saturday nights.  Excellent!  After the threat of rain though, they ended up cancelling on us.  They were mainly coming for the trail ride, so since that was not a sure thing, they decided not to come.  Thankfully one of the men who did show up for the trail ride  crawfish boil wanted to rent it for Saturday night.  He hasn’t been divorced for too long and I think he had a little bit of a crush on my sister.  Actually, he spent most of the day and night doing flirting with my sister and even told her on Sunday that he had left the door unlocked for her the night before.  She was oblivious at the time though.

After he told her about leaving the door unlocked for her and about his interest in her they made plans to go out on a date a few days later.  So if nothing else at least she got a date out of this whole disaster.  When she and I sit and talk about things the conversation usually takes a turn into the gutter and would make Dr. Ruth blush and/or laugh at the very least.  While talking I told her that we should name it the “Best Little Whorehouse in [Town].”  She said that name was too long and we should just call it “Dolly’s Cabin.”  She was also afraid that when our parents come to visit they might not like the name.  I agreed.  Then I suggested we make the sign a drop-down sign so that we could flip it up when they are here.  She thought that was funny, but still said no.

Now we have our cute little cabin available for rent.  It’s also available for us to use when we need a booty call location.  I have the feeling that we will use it more than it will be rented out.

Total cost:  $75

Selling the yard.

Our latest attempt to make some cash is a yard sale.  We gathered up everything that we had left that we thought might sell and we put it all on the porch.  I priced everything, put a sign up by the road, put it on Facebook and Craigslist, and Fallen Angel emailed it into the local radio station.

As I was walking from the storage shed up to the porch, I stopped and picked up and old galvanized watering can that was in the yard.  Sis was behind me with an armload of crap to sell, and she said, “I did not just see that.”  I turned and looked at her sternly and said, “Hey, we aren’t using it, and we need stuff to sell.”  Guess what was the first thing that I sold on Thursday morning?  Yep, that old watering can.  LOL

While my sister was at work Thursday and Friday mornings I parked my ass on the porch and waited for customers, and waited, and waited.  It was a little weird because, on Thursday and Friday, the only people who showed up were men in their 40s – 50s.  They bought a few things, and all of them asked about the house being for sale and said what a beautiful place it is.  I tried my best to be a little flirty and get them to buy the farm, but it just didn’t work.  Come to think of it, I probably should have told them about the cabin and my “buy one night, get one PD for free” special.  It might have worked.  LOL

So here it is at 10:30 on Saturday morning and I’ve had five customers, three of which actually bought something, and I’ve made a total of twenty bucks.  I guess it’s not bad.  That’s not enough for a mortgage payment, but it’s almost a tank of gas in my car.

Total cost:  $10 (price stickers  sign)


I forgot to mention that my sister also rented out my room for Friday  Saturday nights.  Thanks sis.  I had to sleep on my nephew’s bunk bed, the most uncomfortable bed you can imagine.  There’s no wonder Little Bubba won’t sleep on it.  I do have to say though that having Little Bubba come over, tuck me in and give me a goodnight hug was priceless.

It turned out that the man who came to the trail ride  crawfish boil, and rented the cabin that night, is a really nice guy and it looks like my sister may have herself a new man.  That also, is priceless.  She needs a good man.

For me the priceless part was getting to get outside and work.  I was cooped up in that apartment in New Orleans for so long, other than walking around the French Quarter occasionally.  I really didn’t get out much while I was there.  At least here I can get some fresh air and not have to worry about being mugged.  LOL  As much as I loved living in New Orleans and meeting the wonderful people there, I am very glad to be away from Manwhore and all of his nonsense.  He was bringing me down and stressing me out.  Here I still may be stressed, but it’s a good kind of stress.  I know that what I do here is all part of an effort to help my sister and my parents, and that makes me feel good.

Happy humping!

Of Muses and Men

Jerry Reed is my muse.  Yeah, I know he’s dead.  That doesn’t mean he can’t still be my muse, well, one of them at least.  If you don’t know who Jerry Reed was then shame on you.  Go Google him.  He’s awesome.  He had this song called “The Bird” and I love it.  If you’ve seen Smokey & the Bandit, then you’ve seen and heard Jerry Reed.  He was a great storyteller, comedian, singer, actor and musician.  For some reason I always thought of him as the perfect man.  Not only was he handsome, funny and talented, he also had a charisma and charm that you don’t find very often.  I’ve met maybe two or three men in my life who had that same type of charisma and charm.

The first is the Preacher.  I don’t quite understand it because he usually comes across as the strong silent type, but he’s also very charismatic.  Over the years he’s charmed his way into everything from my mother’s good graces to the attorney general’s office.  Not that he hasn’t had his share of enemies, but even his enemies won’t deny that he’s a talented charming man.  In a way I think that it’s the main requirement for being in the ministry, other than being a Christian of course.  Then again, there are plenty of ministers who aren’t actually Christians.  They are just in it for the money, the prestige, or the power.  It’s sad, but true.

The Preacher has always been a hard working business man who knew how to “win friends and influence people” and no, he never read the book by Dale Carnegie or took the course.  I did though.  It didn’t really help me very much.  I’m still working on it.  Now back to dad.  He just has that special something that people are drawn to.  I wish I had it, and in a way maybe I do and just don’t realize it.  I think I just lack the confidence to back it up.

The next was a former boss of mine.  I think I’ve mentioned him here before.  I worked for him for almost two years and those were two of the best years I’ve ever had financially, professionally, and socially.  The Doc is an incredibly intelligent man who had a couple of degrees, a doctorate, and was also a CPA.  That alone is impressive, but he is also one of the funniest, most charming men I’ve ever met.  He could probably charm the panties off any woman, without even trying. The amazing thing was that he did it all without coming across as cocky or arrogant, which he perfectly had the right to be. He and I used to sit in his office and listen to music on his computer as we would go over the accounts. We talked about everything, not just the accounts.

I remember one day we were sitting there going over things and a song came on and he asked me if I knew who the band was. I asked “which band?” He said, “You know…The Band.” Ohhhh. LOL I felt a little ditzy at that moment, but the way he said things made me feel so comfortable. I knew he was only teasing me. He was also a huge flirt, but not in a “sexual harassment” kind of way. He was attracted to intelligence and a good sense of humor, of which I have both, so we got along great. 😉 It’s been almost six years since I moved and left that job. I really miss the Doc. He was the best boss/friend I’ve ever had. As a side note, he also warned me that I was making a mistake by marrying my second husband. He knew immediately upon meeting the Ox that we were severely mismatched. He was right.

The last man I met who had that special something, that charisma and charm that is so indescribable, is Art. I know, I know. I’m not supposed to talk about him, so I’ll only say this one thing. Just because things didn’t work out between me and him doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate what a special guy he is. His charm, intelligence, creativity and charisma are what attracted me to him to begin with. OK so that was two things. I’m done now.

I guess my point here is that when fate brings these special people across our paths, we should take it for what it is worth and just feel blessed that we had the chance to know them. I’m not an elitist or anything, but I do know how to appreciate intelligence, good humor, charm, charisma, creativity and talent. We all have our good parts and bad parts. It’s up to us to strive to make the good parts shine brighter so that the bad parts are diminished.

Again, I apologize for the lack of backlinks, but I’m typing this up on my computer and then posting from my phone.

Happy humping!

I ain’t sayin’ she’s a gold digger…

My sister, Fallen Angel, bless her heart, has decided that men aren’t worth her time or energy unless they have something to offer her besides dinner and sex. She wants a man who can provide and take care of her and Little Bubba. I can sort of understand her thinking there, but I’ve always dated guys based on physical appearance, personality, or dick size. Monetary gain never really entered my line of thinking when it came to men. Maybe it should have. Maybe that’s why I’ve been ending up with so many losers. I feel so shallow even saying that though. It kind of gives me this weird dirty feeling, which is odd because dating guys based on cock size or physical appearance should really be what makes me feel dirty. My mind truly is a mysterious thing.

So after I moved out of the apartment & left Manwhore there to his own devices, my sister decided to give me some advice. She told me that I need to find me a rich man. It doesn’t matter if he’s old or young, as long as he’s rich. That sound like a good idea, but it’s really not very feasible or practical. Now that I’m back living in the sticks of Mississippi, there aren’t many rich men who are also tolerable enough to date, let alone be in a relationship with. So I think I’ll just stick to my plan of finding a new cub, or possibly just talking Endymion into coming to visit me here occasionally. I mentioned the idea to him today in passing, and he seemed interested in it. He’s a busy college kid though, so I don’t really expect him to drive two hours just to hang out with me for a night. It would be fun though.

I find it amusing that once I leave a city/town/state, that’s when the men come out of the woodwork and decide to tell me that I made a mistake and they wish I was still there so they could see me. Where the hell were they when I was still there? They had plenty of opportunity to go out with me before I left, but no, they wait until I’m gone to say how much they want to be with me. Men frustrate the hell out of me. They say that women are the ones who are hard to understand, but it’s actually the men who are confusing as hell. I still love them though. Damn it.

Touch me! Kiss me! Fuck me! Blah, blah, blah. Talk is cheap. Actions are what makes my panties wet.

I have no idea where that came from. Must be the allergy pills. LOL Living on the farm has it’s disadvantages, mainly the umpteen million animals that my sister owns that I’m deathly allergic to. Note to self: buy stock in Benadryl.

I still have to make one more trip to New Orleans to get the rest of my stuff. I was hoping to time it so that I could hang out with someone while I’m there, but it’s not looking too good. In the mean time I have to find a small practice amplifier for my bass guitar because I may be playing for a band. I went and practiced with them on Tuesday night. It was terrifying. I’ve never played in public outside of church. So playing in front of a group of strangers, and playing music that I’ve never played before put me way out of my comfort zone. I overcame though. They offered me a beer or four and then I was rocking it hard and had a great time. I’m really looking forward to playing with them again soon, and I hope they might even want me to play with them on a regular basis.

The thought has crossed my mind that being the only female member of a band could have its perks. I imagine there would be plenty of dirty old men and young ones too who might then see me as a “cool chick” and want to do dirty things to me. I find that oddly appealing. Until next time…

Happy humping!

P.S. I’m having to post this from my phone because we don’t have internet in these here woods. 😦 I hope it comes out ok.