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Top 5 reasons why the Preacher’s Daughters might get arrested

1.  Public intoxication

Actually this one probably happened on a regular basis a few years ago.  However, my sister rarely drinks anymore, and I only drink when I’m out with Teacher.  So we’ll reserve this one for holidays such as Halloween, St. Patty’s Day, and New Years Eve.

Sunday night (Cinco de Mayo) when I was with Teacher I did drink several beers by the fire.  He told me later that he could tell I was getting a little drunk.  I asked how he could tell and he said I “get cuter.”  Hehe.  🙂

2.  Driving while under the influence

As you all know I already had my little run in with the law over this one and I do not want a repeat of that.  Twenty-two hours with Big Bertha in a freezing cold, overly bright jail cell was plenty for me.

3.  Driving like a drunk granny

Last night as Fallen Angel, Little Bubba, and I were coming back from dinner we got pulled over.  She and I both said, “What’d we do?!”  She wasn’t speeding.  Her tag isn’t expired.  We had no idea.  To make things worse, Little Bubba was in the back seat and he said, “Mommy I’m scared.”  (Unfortunately he had acted up all night & I jokingly told him that if he didn’t behave I’d call the cops.  Bad idea.)  I had to reassure him several times after that the cop/sheriff’s deputy was the “good guy.”

Evidently, per the sheriff’s deputy, she was “driving 10 mph under the speed limit and weaving.”  Her truck has rattled lately and it sounds like a raccoon is under the hood, so she’s been trying to take it easy and not drive too fast.  She told the deputy that was why she was going so slow.  He said that was ok, but she was also weaving and he just wanted to make sure she was alright.  He also said “it’s your lane and if you want to use it all then that’s fine.”  (The funny thing is that I tell her all the time that she weaves too much, but she never believes me.  Finally I have proof!  LOL)

He let us go on our merry way after that.

4.  Failure to pay outstanding traffic tickets

This one seems to plague me and Fallen Angel.  She got a ticket last year for having an expired inspection sticker, and to my knowledge she never took care of it.  Of course I still have a couple of tickets that I’ve got to pay from when I was living in the Big Easy.  That was another reason we both sort of panicked when she got pulled over last night.

5.  Cavorting with 17-year-old boys

This one goes back to last year when I was talking to a guy from OKCupid.com.  His profile said he was 18, but he turned out to be only 17.  Once I found out, I quickly put a stop to any and all sexy talk and receiving of pictures from him.  The threat of jail time was enough to scare me straight, and it prompted me to change my search to only guys 24 years old and up.

That wasn’t my first encounter with a 17-year-old though.  Back when I was 22 I had a one-niter with my cousin’s co-worker.  I didn’t know the guy was only 17 until after the dirty deed was done.  I also didn’t know he was a virgin until it was too late.  We live and learn, as the old saying goes.

pkdividerSo there’s my list of the top 5 reasons why the Preacher’s Daughters might get arrested.  Thankfully I’ve only been arrested once, and my sister has yet to make that dreaded call to the Preacher from a jail cell at 2:00 am.  Hopefully she never will, because if she does…I’m not bailing her ass out of jail.  Not after the way she’s been treating me lately.  By the way, she’s still being a bitch from hell.

Our mother and aunt are set to arrive tomorrow.  It’s going to be a little Mother’s Day visit.  The only thing I’m looking forward to is taking them all out to dinner Saturday night.  No, I’m not looking forward to paying, but I am looking forward to having them meet Teacher and hear him perform.  His duo is playing that night at the restaurant we’re going to.  Hehe.  See, I’m still capable of being a sneaky bitch myself.  Fallen Angel hasn’t completely captured that title.

Happy humping & drive safe!

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What? No Valentine’s post from the Preacher’s Daughter?

Damn skippy, and no, I was not out on a hot date last night.  I was not too busy to write a VD post.  I just chose not to.  Why?  Because even though I love Valentine’s Day, I felt there were enough mushy lovey dovey posts being made already.

Instead, I spent my Valentine’s evening with Little Bubba.  Fallen Angel had her sewing class again last night, so it was my night to kid-sit.  He wasn’t the only one I had to take care of though.  My sister decided that Little Bubba deserved a gift for Valentine’s Day.  So while at the Tractor Supply store, she bought him two baby ducks.  Yes, two baby ducks.  One yellow and one brown.  The brown one is the bad one.  I can tell that already.  He tried to jump out of the cardboard box and attack me last night.

So that’s how I spent my VD evening.  With a three-year-old and two loud baby ducks.

Happy humping!

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Waiting to exhale

Cheesy title I know, but it really describes how I feel.  It seems like I’m always waiting on something so I can just breathe.  Like now, I’m waiting to find out what is going to happen with this house, my sister, my friend, my life in general.  “Lost” doesn’t even begin to cover where I’m at in life right now.

Growing up I always had people trying to control me and my life, and even though I cherish my freedom and independence, I feel a little lost when I don’t have someone there trying to control everything for me.

My sister went up to look at that house this weekend, and it turns out that it’s not something that is going to work out for her.  So now we have to find a new plan.  She would stay here, but my boss told her that he’s selling his building and she has to be out by the end of the month.  She was renting an office space from him because her job allows her to telecommute, but she has to have fast internet access, and we don’t have that here at the house.  That leaves her with two options, find a new office to rent, or go ahead and move back to our home state and find a place there where she can set up a new office.

Moving back to our home state was always her plan B, and it seems that now it may be her only option because she got a call from the realtor today.  The woman who looked at the house a couple of weeks ago called and now she wants to bring her husband to come and look at it.  We already know that the woman loves the house, and if the hubby likes it the realtor thinks that they will go ahead and make an offer.  If they do decide to buy the house they want to move in thirty days after the papers are signed.  So we could be homeless in less than two months if things move fairly quickly.

I did some house hunting online, just for the hell of it, and found a really cute “Anne of Green Gables” style house in our home state not too far from where our parents are living now.  It has a horse barn and pasture for my sister’s herd, and it even has a little old general store building on the property.  I would be happy just turning that into my own little cottage.  If we can sell this house then I think I’ve almost got my sister talked into buying that one, or at least taking a look at it.  I don’t relish the idea of being tethered to my sister and nephew for the rest of my life, but the idea of moving back to my homeland, Alabama the Beautiful, and it is a beautiful state, somehow comforts me.

The other thing I feel like I’ve been waiting on is my friend, the one who I was supposed to go see the weekend before last.  He sent me a text a week ago telling me that he had been having phone problems but was back home.  He didn’t say anything else.  A couple of days ago I sent him a text just saying hi.  He never responded.  I guess I should go ahead and return the gift that I’ve carried around in the trunk of my car for over a week now.

I understand that if he’s having a family crisis then he probably doesn’t have time for long conversations with me or anything, but he could at least let me know he’s ok.  Then again, if he can’t even talk to me about things when he going through something like that, then he must not really consider me a friend after all.  Maybe all I ever was to him was just an occasional bed buddy.  It’s too bad, because I make a really good friend and listener too.

I kept promising to explain why I shouldn’t move back to New Orleans, and I guess now is as good a time as any.  It will also connect some of the dots above.  Since my friend isn’t showing much interest and he’s one of the main reasons I wanted to go back to NOLA, now I don’t have much reason at all to move back there.  There are other more important reasons though.

First of all, my little DWI experience back in 2010 came back to bite me in the ass.  I completed all my classes and paid my fines and everything, but I failed to pay off some other unrelated fines to get my physical drivers license back.  When I was living in NOLA I got pulled over one day and got a ticket for a whole list of offenses, and honestly I lucked out because the cop could have taken me back to jail right then, but he didn’t.  Unfortunately the ticket turned out to be over a thousand dollars and I missed my court date because I had to work.  So now I have no license and can’t get one until all that is paid off.  Another problem that came of all that is that I think I have bench warrants out on me, so me taking a chance by being in NOLA is probably a very bad idea.

To top it all off, Manwhore is still there in NOLA and supposedly getting married again in December, and he’s the last person I want to run into.  He also knows about my dirty little DWI secret.  Depending on which side of the bipolar tree he’s swinging from on any particular day, he might just turn me in for the fun of it.  So you can probably understand my trepidation there.

Since I have a whole list of reasons why I shouldn’t move back to NOLA, and very few reasons why I should, I think I’ll just appreciate the time that I did get to spend there, and leave it in my past where it belongs.

Just so you know, and so I don’t feel like a complete liar, I’ll tell you only that someone from my past has popped up again.  I don’t want to say who just yet.  It’s someone who I have very conflicted feelings about…someone who I like, but who also scares me.  Once I sort out some of my feelings on the whole situation, I’ll try to share them in more detail.  Until then…

Happy humping!

Hiding the welcome mat.

Finally, my parents and little brother have gone back home, two states away, where they belong!  Mom & little brother were here for almost a month and in that time they just about drove my sister and I over the edge into insanity.  Thankfully we survived only slightly more insane than we already were prior to their visit.  I do love my  mother and little brother, but it’s true that “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” (Benjamin Franklin)  This rings especially true because my little brother seems to have a burping/farting problem.

I understand that it’s difficult for my parents to come back to the house that they built and the town where they lived for so many years, but if it’s so difficult then why come at all?  I’ll tell you why.  Because even though my sister and I are doing everything within our power to help them keep from losing the house while they try to sell it, including my sister trying herself to get financing so that she can buy it, they just don’t trust us.  My father, the Preacher, strategically planned his trip here to pick up my mother and brother, at the first of the month.  He used my birthday as an excuse, but that’s not the real reason.  He wanted to make sure that all the rent we collected from our tenants went toward the mortgage payment.

Just so you know, I’m OCD when it comes to my spreadsheets and Microsoft Money.  I update it daily and try to stay on top of every penny that we earn, spend, and all bills that are due/coming due.  My sister may be the business minded one, but I’m the analytical and practical one.  Together I think we make a pretty damn good team, although our plans don’t always turn out the way we had hoped.  At least we are trying.  Meanwhile the Preacher is sitting on his ass not doing a lot to help out, just waiting, expecting, demanding that she and I make the mortgage payments.  At one point he was ready to just hand the house over to the bank.  That’s what really confuses me.  If he doesn’t even care anymore, then why is he riding our asses nonstop about it?  Control.  It’s all about control I suppose.

I find it difficult to feel sorry for the Preacher, but I do feel for my mom.  I know she has tried her best to rein him in and make him see the light, but he seems to be forever stuck in a deep dark cave of self-pity.  I just pray that she and my little brother don’t have to suffer through all this much longer.  I hope he will get off his ass, get a job, any job or even disability which is what he should be on, and take care of them like he should.

My mother, bless her heart, has good intentions, but she managed to drive us crazy too.  Between her waking my sister up at 2 am, 3 am, and 5 am, to let the dogs out, and her getting up at 6 am to make her decaf coffee and start doing dishes, I thought I was going to have to sedate my sister a few times.  Mom has always had periods of insomnia, and since she was already awake, she thought that 3 am was the perfect time to vacuum and do other household cleaning.  She had no problem going into my sister’s room and vacuuming while sis was trying to sleep.  Sis HATED that, and still does.

I have to hand it to my mom though.  She’s put up with the preacher for many many moons, raised two very interesting daughters, is now raising a rambunctious six-year-old boy, and always manages to keep a smile on her face and love in her heart.  Although not perfect, she is amazing nonetheless.

The funniest thing mom did while she was here was when she found my sister’s bottle of Bahama Mama in the fridge door.  The Preacher is a former/recovering alcoholic, and therefore my parents have not had alcohol in their house in at least twenty-five years.  So one night she was cooking a roast, and found the bottle in the fridge.  She asked if I thought it would be good to put in with the roast, sort of like a marinade I suppose.  I laughed and told her it wasn’t wine, and I refused to let her use it.  (She has a long history of coming up with some interesting, and not so tasty dinner items.)  I guess she didn’t believe me so she opened it up and took a short sniff of it, and then a longer one.  Then she said, “That smells really good.  I guess if I can’t use it I can at least sniff it.”  Then she proceeded to take a very long whiff of it, all the while giggling like a school girl.  LOL

I am realizing that I haven’t written much about my mother, and I will have to rectify that very soon.  She’s so funny and sweet and her innocence just makes even funnier sometimes.  She has brought my sister & I to tears on many occasions laughing at the stuff she says and does.  Don’t worry, she laughs at herself too.  She is great when she laughs really hard.  She turns red, tears come streaming down her face and anyone can see what a beautiful person she really is.

So the welcome mat may be temporarily hidden, but it will be back out eventually and we will welcome them back with open arms.  No matter what, they’re our family and we love them.

Happy humping!

I didn’t see it coming

I told you a while back that my sister met a man the day of the trail ride & crawfish boil.  He’s a cowboy of course, and a good bit older than her.  He was also very funny and flirty.  Just her type.  So a few days later she asked if I would babysit Little Bubba for a while so that she could hang out with him.  It turned out that all they did was go across the road to Dolly’s Cabin and “hang out.”  Of course we all know what that means.

The next night after her “date” we were sitting at the dining room table eating dinner and I asked how her “date” went.  With a big goofy grin on her face she told me that it was “something.”  Something?  I wasn’t sure what that meant so I inquired further.  She told me that he was very large.  She wasn’t talking about his weight.  He’s an average sized guy.  Not bad-looking either.  No, she was talking about something else.  She said he was porn star big.  Therefore, furthermore, he will be called Porn Dick.

She explained that it was the biggest one she’d never seen.  Yes, that’s right.  She said never seen.  Evidently the lights were off when things started getting hot and heavy and then she said what would become a running joke for us.  “It was huge!  I just didn’t see it coming!”

At that point I started laughing and the conversation continued to go further into the gutter full of dick jokes and cum-filled innuendos.  I almost wet my panties I was laughing so hard.

God Hates No One

A few weeks later we were sitting on the front porch one evening talking about a sign that a local church had posted in their front window.  It said “We welcome everyone including HOMOSEXUALS. Come Sunday for explanation.”  Someone had taken a picture of it and posted it on Facebook.  The local gay/lesbian community was not happy with it, and I can’t say that I blame them.  The church in question isn’t known for its tolerance towards people with views that differ from their own.  The tag line on their website says, “Come as you are, but don’t expect to stay that way.”  Unfortunately that should be a positive message, but it’s actually more of a testimony to how judgmental and controlling they are.  It should say, “Come as you are, but if you want to keep coming you’ll have to conform to our views of what a Christian should be (not God’s).”

So while sis and I were sitting on the porch and talking I mentioned that we should start our own church for freaks and rejects.  She was amused and halfheartedly agreed.  I was serious though.  I’m sick of so-called Christians thinking that people have to conform to their beliefs to be saved.  What about God?  Shouldn’t He be the one who we are worried about pleasing and conforming to what He wants us to be?  God loves everyone.  How do these churches expect to get people to come worship with them when all they do is judge and demean anyone who doesn’t meet with their approval?

The worst part was when my sister sent a text to an acquaintance of hers.  He is a member of that very same church, and even teaches several classes there.  The text she sent him asked about the sign.  He said that he did know about the sign, but wasn’t sure what the pastor was going to “explain” on Sunday.  Then came the kicker.  He said, “Personally though, I hate fucking fags.”  Wow.  There’s a shining example of a small town dumb-ass fake Christian right there folks.

Oops.  I started getting a little preachy there didn’t I?  Well, that’s alright.  You know why?  Because while I was waiting on my chicken fingers to be deep-fried at the local gas station/fried food emporium last week, I became an ordained minister online.  It took about five minutes and it’s legal in most states.  So now not only can I do wedding ceremonies, funerals and the like, I can also start my own church if I so choose.  Who knows.  Maybe I will do just that.  The Preacher always did say that he thought I was called into the ministry.  Maybe my ministry will be helping the freaks and rejects, like myself and my sister, have a place to worship freely without fear of judgement from anyone other than God.

Happy humping!

P.S.  My sister drives me crazy in many ways, but I would never trade her for anything.