TASER MAIL just had to share it

This not one of my stories but Sarah sent it to me again. I received this mail a few months back and I have to say just reading it makes me laugh out loud and I have to say my visualization of the situation only makes it funnier. It’s the kind of thing my dad would have done and if truth be told something I think most men who love playing with gadgets would try.


Taser stun gun
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Toni. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety... WAY TOO COOL!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-A batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.

Awesome!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Toni what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, "no possible way!"

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best... I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head thingyed to one side as if to say, "don't do it master," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad... I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY MOTHER, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!@&$!%!@*!!!

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and a tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking, "do it again, do it again!"

Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered conservative. SON-OF-A-*&^%* that hurt like hell!!! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they up get there? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocaine, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I'm still looking for my testicles! I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return. Still in shock.

So enjoy the giggle and be glad to know that I am not the only idiot in the world and this really makes me feel a lot better and maybe a little superior because even I wouldn’t try this.

Sarah had a smash and grab incident and she phoned me to see if I approved her getting a stun Gun and of course my comment was as long you don’t give it a test run on yourself!!!!

I wish I was taller!

I was telling Sarah about my weekend and that I know I need to find new material for my blog.... but she assured me that Jinx and Beast make for good reading. In fact she says IT"S FUNNY AS HELL...... WELL I have finally decided that I really am insane or must have done something really bad in another life time.

The weekend was not a bad one, it was quite lovely.. A little hot but bearable. Even with ear ache I managed to enjoy the weekend and Sunday was Valentine’s Day so it was special…. But I have finally worked out that Jinx and Beast have been sent to test me. This is my conversation I had with Sarah and my cousin Ronelle today on gmail and Skype…. You can hear my desperation! I am sure Sarah (Janey) and Ronelle thinks it’s the best thing since sliced bread. Gee I thought teenagers were bad….

I was telling my Cousin about Jinx and Beast this weekend.

Me: suppose I can be funny without even trying. Had Bern in stitches again last night coz I threatened to kill Jinx and Beast.

I lost it coz they destroyed my cotton wool and she thought this was very funny coz when they ate my phone, or her shoes, or the cupboard or the charger I did not react -but they ate my cotton wool. And I had to pick it up all over the carpet...and what happens when I bend down to their level? Eye level so to speak? ....

THIS IS NOT FUNNY I threatened to shove it up their behinds. It’s like they think I am their toy and as I am on the floor on my knees picking up their mess... I obviously need to be loved, licked, bitten and slobbered on!

My Cousin: well of course you do - part of the pack and all that. Time you reminded them that you are the alpha female, and not the toy! LOL…..had good laugh thanks….

I then cut and pasted my conversation with my Cousin to Sarah on gmail just to share the events that transpired….

Me: alpha female...... not bloody likely I am their squeak toy - As they love to bite me to hear my reaction. Janey they are going to kill me still. The way they sneak up on me.

Sarah: hahahahahahahah it’s so so funny.

Me: I do not think so, becoming quite paranoid. Think I need to either change my deo or ....I don’t know what. Wear granny pants for protection all the time. Bern thinks it’s bloody hilarious - She friking rolls on the bed with laughter when they sneak attack me. Like guerrilla warfare
I resign!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sarah: you can’t resign from being the squeak toy

Me: I can and I do

Sarah: you can’t and you know you won’t

Me: well I quit but they won’t accept my resignation. In frustration I sent this sms to Bern this morning.....

Note to self. DO NOT SIT ON THE BATH EDGE WAITING FOR WATER TO COOL DOWN with butt hanging over edge like the lava from a volcano.... can you guess why?

Well Bern’s response was… Madam Jinx….? (it does not take genius to work out that Jinx has struck again!)

My response to Bern via sms ......

Well I was sitting there moving the water around and Jinx, decided to give me a lick!!!! I was not impressed and landed up slipping into the hot water sideways legs crossed and was trapped in the damn bath so I did the ..."try and turn around while being wedged in the narrow part of the bath", looked like a bloody beetle on my back trying to untangle my legs. And it’s not funny so stop laughing

Sarah: god you should be a stand up squeaky toy!

Me: oh thank you. Maybe if I was a little taller I wouldn’t be the perfect target and bloody squeak so much as my butt is Jinx's eye level and maybe just maybe she would look for another squeak toy.

-0-

Well as you can imagine this was not how I wanted to start my Monday morning, feeling like a pretzel in my bath, trying to untangle my legs without drowning myself and aggravating my already throbbing ear with water gushing in as I finally managed to gain some balance.

I arrived at work quite flustered and the temperature is rising outside so I must say I am not at my best. So I wonder into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee and cannot find my coffee cups. Well I try to see into the top of the cupboards, no matter how hard I try to stand on my tippy toes, I cannot see into the top of the cupboard. So do I do what any sane person would do? Do I ask one of the taller people to assist me, do I grab a chair or even think before I react. NO I DO NOT.

I climb onto the kitchen counter. Not an easy task when you are short in stature; and not as supple as you used to be. I lean against the kitchen counter. Use my arms to lift my body onto the kitchen counter. My arms are shaking like jelly as …oh hell I am not fit anymore and my arms are like pieces of liquorices, no strength at all. I sit their half on half off, toes not touching the ground anymore and dangle for a few seconds, slip off the counter and land on my feet ever so gracefully like a ballerina (NOT SO MUCH!).

(Height difference) (And Bern not the tallest person either!)

Now I decide, I will do the bend the knees - do a few practice bends – up and down to get the momentum going and then grab the counter facing it with my back and jump/hop onto the counter.

This I manage to get right and sit there on the counter catching my breath and feeling quite proud of myself for achieving this huge feat. I managed to jump up, pull myself up onto a kitchen counter… whoop whoop I am the queen of the jungle today --I tell myself and do the victory punch. I made it… and no bones were broken, no need for transplants for shredded body parts and no surgery needed for gouged arms or legs. Today was going to be a good day.

I then scoot over and very carefully climb onto the counter to look in the top of the cupboard still feeling quite proud of myself. A lot hotter than I was a few minutes before because of the effort required to lift my body onto the counter… but hey I did it. Looking in the cupboards.... I find no coffee cups. Now I feel my temperature rising a little more. I sit of the counter, slip off without injuring myself. See that I have managed to get a wet spot on my jeans from sitting on a wet counter but tell myself that I don’t care and go searching for my coffee cups.

Oh well I found them …… in my office; can you believe it, the last place I look is the first I should have looked. I remembered putting them there when I left on Friday (old age is creeping up on me!) as I was tired of having to wash them after the staff had helped themselves. As I said not a good start to my Monday.

I often ask myself what difference it would have made to our Creator’s great plans to give me a few more centimeters in height. I mean really would it have caused a worldwide epidemic, or a plague of mass destruction? I have the delight of never being able to use the top shelves in my kitchen and my children and helpers have the delight of putting everything on the top shelf just to see me try to jump/hop grab the goods off the shelf. I mountain climb on the counters, or climb on the shelves in my cupboard to reach the top cupboards on top of all wall to wall cupboards. I have broken more shelves by doing this and I cannot tell you how frustrating it is when I call for Matt to come help and he does not even stretch, does not even break into a sweat. No he simply extends his arm and grabs whatever I need off the shelf.

My mother had the same problem I do. I think it would be called in today’s politically correct world- “height disadvantaged” - short is short no matter how you try to colour it with clever words….

She used to call for her Step Ladder, which was usually my ex-husband as he was 6ft or a visitor, never me as I was only ½ inch taller than her. Now don’t laugh half an inch taller means a lot to me…. And I made sure my mother was aware of it as often as I could…lol, little did I know that you shrink as you get older so there goes my advantage of that ½ an inch.

Being short, oh well I can find no Pro’s. I cannot reach the peddles in large vehicles- when i was pregnant with my three angels I could not get close enough to the steering wheel to be able to reach the peddles and i had a permanent circle of the steering wheel on my clothes - I need to slip out of 4 x 4 which have those big tyres on; trying desperately not to let go of the handle until I found solid ground with my dangling foot. I get assisted by a tow vehicle and he has to lift me out of the tow truck so I can get out of it. Talk about embarrassing, a stranger lifting you out of a vehicle because you cannot reach the step on the vehicle to get out of the tow truck.

(Height difference- I may as well be his under arm roll-on deo)

I cannot reach goods on the top shelves in a supermarket, and to add insult to injury in my senior year at high school I was often mistaken for a junior and sent to the tuck shop by another senior. Quite humiliating for the Athletics Captain (me) I might add. Oh yes the joys of being short, the only time this has ever helped me is when I was at school and the kids were lined up for some school function and no one see me as I am watching the back of their heads and therefore cannot be picked for some menial task or humiliation by the teachers or prefects.

I suppose my children can never accuse me of talking down to them. No I have to look up to all of them and this does not give a sense of authority when you feel the need to advise or scold them. All I get for my efforts are “MOM you are so Cute" and I get my cheeks pinched a lot and my hair ruffled by my children. I am called hobbit and teased about my nonexistent height and try as hard as I can, I can never be menacing when I stand up for myself as I am always looking up at the person I am talking to admonishing. I see the smirks and smiles on the person's face and I just stare back at them and stand my ground but must admit even to myself that I feel quite insignificant in the larger scale of life.

I have tried the wearing high shoes, but all that happens is look like Minnie Mouse in her heels in the cartoons… knees bent and body wobbly and pathetic as I try to master the art of walking on what might as well be stilts.

At least I have my sense of humour and have finally accepted that I need to find my kitchen step ladder or just give up on wanting to use the paraphernalia on the top shelves in my house or just nail them shut so no mean spirited person can put goods on the top shelves thereby preventing me from using them.

I have decided my being short is the reason my lovely animals see me as their toy….. hence my conversation with Sarah and my cousin this morning.

The revenge of the height disadvantaged will be mine one day – of this I am sure. (Not so Much).

I LOVE MY LIFE BUT.....Jinx ... Not so Much

I am sure we have all had days when we want to dance with joy and act like complete idiots no matter who is watching. (I seem to have a lot of those days don’t I?) Or dance in the isle of a supermarket or a music shop where you suddenly become Barbra Streisand and sing along or worse still sing to ABBA where you have to do the silhouette style dance and shake your hips and long for those wonderful boots and sparkly outfits. (Not so much! I hear some of you say)

Well today is a day where I feel like breaking it down, all alone in my office with celebrating my new accounts I signed up today and feeling quite “special” (Yes you guessed it) ABBA in the back ground a huge smile on my face (this may be due to the fact that it’s a grimaces as I am sitting on a bruised behind thanks to …….no prizes for guessing drum roll please… JINX) – pondering how wonderful some days are and how thank goodness its Friday. BUT I won’t be dancing around, I won’t be looking for my ABBA outfit and I may be singing along but with as little effort as is required because we are experiencing a heat wave once again. I swear this is the end of days and we are being given a taste of what is in store for those of us who are not prepared for the afterlife ….or those of us who haven’t bought their ARC yet for 1012 when the world is supposed to be ending, we are in for a hot time before we drown!

I have been known to dance while preparing dinner or when a lovely song comes on the radio or music system, but I have learnt not to do this with Fiona my white Alsatian present. She gets so excited she nips me on my behind; a trick she seems to have taught Jinx to do really well, (I really must have a chat to her about that – it’s not nice to bite mommy’s bum even if you think it is Madam Fiona) It’s not just dancing that excites her, its if you decide to play catches with your girls, somehow I get the bite of excitement and Fiona has this way of grinning at you which is so adorable and you can’t help but love her more even with a shredded Butt. Bern and the kids really find this amusing I have to add. Well with Jinx there is no need for dancing or running or anything for that matter.

The other night I had just gotten out of the bath and was very innocently standing next to my bed in a day dream state, should be called night dream state, thinking about how hot it was and that I should maybe just find a way to put the bed in the pool when I screamed without any thought or planning F%^&#*^… B*&#H…. Bern looked up at me horrified as she thought I was speaking to her. I turned around to try and smack the little Brat (NO NOT BERN) Jinx had run into the room, and snuck up to me and had nipped my butt again. What is it about my Butt…? I mean yes it’s as big as a bloody dart board, but they never bite anyone else’s Butt - just mine. I swear I am going to wear body armour. It has become so bad that when I get out the bath and dry myself my butt faces the bath and I lean on the loo to dry the feet.

Gone are the days of being able to just get out, lean on the bath and bend to dry my toes…..no I learnt my lesson the hard way and I must say in not such a nice way. I nearly drowned as I was very innocently bending over drying my toes and felt this searing pain in my nether region and I jumped away and flopped into the bath head first. I swear I could hear Jinx laughing all the way down the passage as she ran off in delight and my threats of killing her.

Back to my shout out of forbidden words in the bedroom….Bern looked at me in horror as I said and Exclaimed “SHEW Baby that’s a bit harsh isn’t it; you have never called me that to my face! And then she had the bad manners to burst out laughing as I examined my Butt in the mirror expecting to see huge puncture holes that would require surgery and a transplant and an ambulance and the blood was sure to be pouring down my leg and I was trying not to move as I knew this would just make the blood shoot out in torrents - but all I got was a nice bruise and a delighted DOG!
Now Little Beast has obviously been watching him mummy in action and all he can reach is my knees, so I get the “nip hello” on my knees as often as he can amble over to me in his slow motion. Not so nice when I climb out the car and turn to grab my bag when I arrive home from work, for my efforts I get a nip on the butt greeting and nibble on the knees with pin sharp teeth! I swear I will land up on some cold metal table at the morgue and they will not be able to determine the cause of death. The many possible causes of death will be very evident except the one that most probably killed me….. Insanity. Has anyone died from Insanity because we are thinking of getting another addition to our wonderful Pet Family?

Sigh, yes I hear the comments as you read this ...”Are you totally insane?” questions when I tell you about my new gift, a few months back Bern fell in Love with a sausage dog the colour of chocolate – pre Jinx and Beast days; and they telephoned to advise that a litter had been born and they were keeping Bern’s little chocolate pup for her. I have already named him CONAN and I have to say I am a sucker for punishment and this little monster will be coming to work with me as he will be too tiny to leave alone with Jinx and Little Boy, I cant wait for Bern’s gift for me.

Like I don’t have enough animals who stalk me as it is. I can’t even go to the kitchen from the lounge without them all following me, and swimming is great fun as they watch and bark or meow depending on the species who has decided they need my attention - for me to get out the pool. Oh I do love animals; I think it shows. Well blame my children i must be suffering from the Empty Nest syndrome, or Dementia but I admit I love animals.

So when they do finally put me in the mental home which I am sure my children have pre-booked for me I hope they allow my animals to come with me but if they don’t I am sure I won’t be lonely as I also talk to myself and get the fright of my life when someone answers back. This happened to me when Bern and I first started living together. She was in the veggies section of the supermarket and asked me to go and get the drinks for the evening as we were having friends over. Now I have to confess I am not good at going into bottle stores, I find them quite daunting and I never know what to choose. There I was standing in front of the cooler and looking at the Smirnoff Ice or Hooches or whatever those mixed drinks are called and was becoming quite frustrated with the predicament I had been put in.

Now Bern had no idea I had this aversion to bottle stores and truth be told I had maybe been in a bottle store maybe 10 times in my life up until then (yes I have overcome that fear with Bern and my girl’s help and support LOL) there I stood looking at these pretty coloured drinks and started talking to the freezer:

"Oh common Bern, what am I supposed to buy, I don’t do the bottle store and I don’t know what to Get!"Common Bern what must I buy?” and the fridge answered me. “I am right here Baby - Why you talking to the fridge, are you okay?” I nearly fell into the fridge and my heart was racing and I stumbled around to face Bern and smacked her for giving me such a fright. I then sat down on the fridge front shelf to re-gain my composure freezing my derriere ( must have been in preparation for my Jinx’s attention in years to come!)

I have not learnt my lesson I still talk to myself and am still caught out by my family especially if I am having a grumble about them and they answer me back. I think I am going to put bubble wrap on the soles of their shoes so I can hear them sneak up on me.

As I said the coroner will not know what actually killed me, but I think it’s safe to say it will be a combination of Jinx, Beast and having the living daylights scared out of me. A good example of this is the other night after returning from a dinner with a prospective boss, we pulled under our garage and my heart stopped. There were no curtains in our room. I looked in and all I could see was my dressing table, nothing else. I turned to Bern, my face totally drained of colour, my heart racing and that feeling of absolute terror in my heart.

“We have been broken into” I squeaked. Bern turned to me and saw how terrified I was and said “No Shell, the dogs pulled the curtain down through the window and are no lying on it outside.

I swear it took me at least an hour to calm down, and yes before you ask, I do still want Conan the Chocolate sausage dog to join our family. I mean I have never been very fond of my toes or ankles and I know without a doubt that he will be helping himself to those to fit in and be a part of my crazy lovable furry children. Wish me luck, we fetch him mid March. Hurry up March I want to meet my next tormentor.

Wardrobe Malfunctions

Wardrobe Malfunctions!

This is the mail I received from Sarah this morning and of course I just had to use it in my blog today. Finally have a few minutes to do one……
Hello my mommy

This how my morning started

didn’t wanna climb out of bed this morning but then the maid arrived and i was quickly kicked back into reality!!! So i dragged my tired ass out of bed and into the shower and only turned the shower on when i climbed in and proceeded to burn parts while the water went from HOT to warm. I then climbed out, told cait to get up and climb into the shower. i then walked over the door, shouted out the door to the maid that we just wanna get dressed then she can come in.

Then put on underwear the pants then realised i had my sisters underwear on, took pants off then underwear threw hers across the room, found my underwear put it on and finished getting ready. Then lit a smoke!!!!!!

Bern’s comment to this mail was “Sarah must have thought her boobs had grown and thought OH F MY LIFE" because Cait is not as well endowed as my angel Sarah. Sorry Cait bit its true!!

At her 21st party Mark asked everyone to use a few words to describe Sarah on a scroll, well double D was used a lot, Booby girl and wow and great curves and of course the normal, wonderful comments but the majority was to compliment her Dolly Parton extras.

I would love to have been there when she had her tantrum and threw the clothes across the room as I do that often as what fitted last year now looks like an extra skin I am wearing. Not even granny pants work with the bumps and curves. My friend Donne will agree with this I am sure - as we attended a work party many years ago and we were all dressed up to the nines. Wearing our evening gowns and trying to hide the extra non flattering rolls and bumps.

We sat down at the table and she complained that she could not breath and that her cleavage was now sitting under her chin and had increased in size. Well after laughing at her she explained that she was wearing what I refer to as body armour to hold in the curves. This only pushed the fat up which pushed her cleavage up and she was having trouble breathing from the tightness. This comment really tickled out fancy and we giggled and joined in and were actually told to be quiet at the awards ceremony.

What with Bern singing whenever the spot light hit our table “At first I was afraid” spot light moves, only to come back 30 seconds later and she would burst into song again , her wine glass as her Microphone …”I was petrified” … picture it in your head, all of us donned up like sausages in tight fitting dresses (well not Bern now that would be funny…no she was elegant in her Chinese shirt and pants.) with the most impressive settings and we are being hooligans complaining about the food and Bern signing for us and entertaining us in the middle of the awards ceremony.

Then there is always that loudness where you have to talk above the clapping hands and shouts of congratulations when someone from another table received a prize and all the rewards that go with it.. (None from our table qualified…I wonder why that is? We were such good examples to our co-workers …. NOT SO MUCH) any way I digress again. During one of these loud outburst Donne started telling us about her body armour or as she referred to it “Passion Killers.”

"Well if my partner wants to get lucky tonight he had better be a good boy scout and bring his pen knife to bed. Or maybe he should just find a machete as these passion killers are now part of my body grafted into me…. And I sure as hell anit going with getting lucky tonight!" But as she was saying the last part the room fell silent so everyone heard about how her partner would need to become this adventurer if he wanted to get lucky that evening.

Of course we burst out laughing again and were shushed up once again. Well we enjoyed our evening and Donne did indeed need help cutting off the passion killers for the evening, in fact it had nothing to with the need for passion that she had to cut them off, it was the need to breathe that won in the end.

We have all had wardrobe malfunctions of this I am sure. (Like the time I went to see my new client dressed like a Christmas tree, florals and glitter and stripes – mentioned in my blog about wanting kill my son and needing to find the gym handle so I can totally sympathize) The other morning while getting dressed I grabbed my white bra and put it on and was a little concerned but quite pleased if truth be told. No matter how I adjusted the body parts the bra was just too big. Pat ;pat, move body parts around ..bend over to let gravity fill the bra, pat; pat; pull ;pull but nothing worked I still had this extra material that was sticking forming a cone shaped bra..like our mother wore in the 60’s - HORRORS OF HORRORS

Now I have been battling with the November/December increase in weight and was telling myself that I must have lost weight in the boobs…as I just could not get them to fill out the bra no matter how I danced around and jiggled the boobs.

So I took it off and realized that I was actually trying to put Bern’s Bra on and this is when I because very distressed….. It was not that big on me and Bern wears a few sizes bigger than me. That’s it I decided right there and then, diet, boob reduction and self deprivation was called for. Not a good way to start the day…… well not that I have many good starts to my day of late with my crazy malfunctioning animals.

The other day we had our friend Val over for dinner and she was so enthralled with our animals until Beast ran through with my bra on his head. Well now she totally adores him and says we should have named him T..T head. Oh yes the joys of wardrobe malfunctions and animals.

So here is to wardrobe malfunctions and passion killers and mad animals. Nothing that a good glass of wine can’t fix. Thank you Sarah for the giggle I needed today after a long week.