Welcome to my world - The world of Tish

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Grab a box, would ya?

As it is in real life, my blog has taken a different path.

I will continue to check in here, but for the record, The World According to Tish has officially relocated to:


I will try to visit everyone on my blogroll and give personal invitations, but if you are reading this, as they say down in these parts: You've done been invited, just don't forget the tater salad.

Please update your blogrolls if I am fortunate to be on them. If I'm not, then why not? Do I smell? Did I offend you? Better take a number then, 'cause that line's awful long and we don't have a free concession stand 'round these parts.

Okay, let's see. I've got my blogroll, my new email: tish@tishasharp.com, my pics, and my typewriter, so I guess this is it. Don't you hate to close the door on a great house, apartment, or experience? (sniffle) I'll miss this place, but the new digs are bigger, better, and has more options. What's a girl to do??


Say goodnight, Tish.

Goodnight Tish.

Hello www.tishasharp.com

Hope ya'll come over and visit.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Who ya gonna call?

Don't get caught alone oh no Ghostbusters
When he comes through your door, unless you've just got some more I think you better call Ghostbusters.
Ooh... who you gonna call (Ghostbusters)
Who you gonna call (Ghostbusters)
Ah, I think you better call (Ghostbusters)

From the moment a child can understand, we teach them their parents will protect them. Sometimes it is in the form of a swat on the backside, or a long timeout, but the message is the same: it's for your own good.

Then in the blink of an eye, they enter grade school where they are bombarded with programs about police (DARE), crime fighters such as McGruff the crime fighting dog and Smokey the Bear. Officers visit the school to build respect and garner trust from the youth so that in case they ever need help, they know where to go and who to call. The message grows beyond what is for your own good, but also the good of the family, city, state, and country.

And now these same children who are taught to believe in their country, military, and police are being inundated with Anti-American sentiments from other Americans as well as accept the disrespect for authority figures in popular music, television, and movies. Video games glamorizing the murder of cops and the hypersensationalism of Anti-American protesters leaves little Johnny and Jane wishing for their own Ghostbusters for protection.

Pacifists call for an end to war, which if it were possible at this very moment, it would be a great thing. No one I know is 'pro-war'. Ask most veterans and they'll tell you that not only is war Hell, but not many people relished the thought of going to battle no matter, how just the cause.
It's not that I'm one of those "shoot first, ask questions later"kind of people, but I do believe in the notion that the best defense is a good offense. If someone breaks into my home, do you really think diplomacy and negotiations will keep me from being raped? If a knife is held to my child's neck, do I really care why the criminal is acting out? What good is diplomacy and tact if the very same people you want to deal with view you as an infidel worthy of a painful death? The feel-good psychobabble in today's media only serves one purpose: to eradicate responsibility for one's actions. Diplomacy has yet to save a child's life when abducted by a monster, nor did it save thousands of Iraqis buried in mass graves. Tact won't appeal to Osama, or the BTK killer, or any other evil that is hell bent on the destruction of life, innocent or not.

If the police all are corrupt, who ya gonna call?
If the military is fighting the wrong war at the wrong time, when is there a right war at a right time?
If the country is divided amongst itself, how can she defend herself from within?
If we can't acknowledge God, who are we gonna call?

Monday, August 22, 2005

Croc shmock, can you cook?

Dear Steve,
As an avid fan, I've watched you for years on Animal Planet. Your ease with crocodiles and other dangerous beasts is mystifying and somewhat scary to most normal people.
Not to be critical, but I think you've exhausted the animal kingdom for material. Even children are desensitized to the snake bites and gator charges you have endured, so I would like to propose some new adventures for you and your lovely wife. A myriad of challenges, if you will, that could entice new fans as well as thrill your long time admirers.

The Crocodile Hunter Meets WalMart: In this episode, Steve faces his nemesis, the WalMart Sporting Goods Manager all decked out in reptilian apparel. In his quest for twenty items from the sales aisle, he is confronted by three large women hellbent on beating him to the prize. Stay tuned for Steve's confrontation with Laverne and her twin sister Malvern.

The Crocodile Hunter Diaries: Slumber Party: Terri Irwin joins her husband on his most dangerous expedition to date, chaperoning a slumber party of six nine year old American girls fresh from a day at the mall. Watch the pink feathers fly as he refuses to wear the dress-up boa and Terri is reduced to a weeping blob in the corner.

Assignment: Crocodile Hunter JobShare: Steve's emotional and mental grit is tested to the limit as he shadows a home health physical therapist for a week. To his horror, he is forced to listen to the ramblings of a former debutante now beginning Alzheimer's patient rant about bad romances and, gasp, her recipe for alligator chili.

As you can see, the possibilities are endless and can only increase your ratings. Imagine, you and Terri waiting tables at Chinese Buffet restaurant on the same night Ultimate Fighting Championships are held...or serving as a sales associate for Catherine's, a plus sized clothing shop. It's cutting edge, it's reality TV pushed to it's limits...frankly, it's got you written all over it.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to seeing you discussing the virtues of collegan at the next BeautiControl party as the season premiere.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

The most feared word in the US right now...


There it is, ladies and gentlemen. This three letter word has sparked more debate and caused more controversy than any Hollywood screenwriter could invent.

What's ironic is our country was founded on principles found in a book solely written by (divinely, of course) and about God. The Ten Commandments pretty much cover all that is deigned law in the present day, but God forbid we have them displayed! Maybe I shouldn't say 'God Forbid', seeing as He is being escorted out of our society with a swift shove by many in power.

Can't have God in the Pledge of Allegiance. Why, that might sway the minds of our youth to actually believe in something other than Scooby Doo and Pokemon!
Can't have Jesus' birth acknowledged for fear it could hurt the feelings of those that don't believe.
Can't have God's word as part of decision making. That could lead to the something our society is shying away from: identifying certain behaviors as right or wrong. There is nothing that can't be rationalized, explained, or excused away now so don't bring God into the mix.

Since 9/11, Muslims living in the US are able to insert their religion into our society without backlash, without incident but let a Baptist child say their prayer in school and all Hell breaks loose. Instead of respecting all religions, our nation has become so politically correct that we've literally lost the faith our foundation was built upon. No one wants to be beat about the head and neck with the Bible, or threatened with hellfire and brimstone, but what's so wrong with letting those that choose to worship God do so?

I had an instructor once that boasted about his atheism. He tried day after day to prove my faith was not only misguided, but altogether pointless. In the end, his constant prodding only made my faith stronger. Maybe this is what is happening to our nation right now, a test to strengthen our faith as a whole. Are we passing the test? Hard to tell right now but one thing is certain, if we fail the test, our children will pay a price far greater than any generation has ever seen in the history of the world.

Talk about Hellfire and brimstone...

Back by popular demand: Biblical Interviews

Today we have the pleasure of Deborah, the Bible's only female judge in the Old Testament. Lucky for us she is between cases at the moment.

Deborah: Who let you in here?
Tish: Your bailiff, Mr. Byrd. We had an appointment for this interview, remember?
Tish: Uh, yes ma'am. We had an appointment--
Deborah: ZIP IT! Do I smell like turnips to you?
Tish: Huh? I don't mean any harm, Judge---
Deborah: ENOUGH! I didn't fall of the turnip truck, missy. You can't get one by me so watch yourself.
Tish: Okay, then. I'll just be going now.
Deborah: Do I look stupid to you? You waltz into my private chamber and say you have an appointment and you think I'm not going to do something about it? PETRI, COME HERE!
Tish: I'll see myself out.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was unable to complete the interview with Deborah as planned. Next week's interview will focus on Orpah, a multi-millionare talk show host, I mean Old Testament wife with a story to tell. Until then, stay safe and smile at strangers.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Riddle me this, Riddle me that

As the world contemplates the future effect of the Israeli withdrawal from Gaza, the neverending media focus of Mrs. Sheehan and her anti-war protest, and now Madonna's horseriding accident, there are other issues that beg the question WHY.

Why do some women wear full makeup when going to the gym? Clogged pores aside, isn't the whole reason for exercising to sweat? Maybe it's just me, but mascara and eyeliner has no place when lifting weights. Who wants to wipe off patches of Maybelline foundation from the machines? Not me.

Why have some men hung onto the 'sock' look while at the gym? Like millions of other teenagers in the early 80's, I had that poster of Jon Bon Jovi sitting on a table. His obvious 'girth' was not genetic, if you know what I mean, but he was a ROCK STAR. For men that strut around in bike shorts and a padded jock, one word comes to mind: Don't.

Why does ESPN waste time on Terrell Owens? Talk about the worst thing to hit the NFL since free agency. Not only is he a virus for sportsmanship, but his antics and selfishness should be banned from the sport. But what do I know, I'm just a girl that likes football.

Why hasn't someone told Donald Trump his hair is ridiculous? Three words: Emporer's new clothes. Money can buy almost anything. The keyword being almost, Donald. Of course, supermodels with dollar signs in their eyes and gold digging fingernails are oblivious to his comb-over.

'Why' is the first question children learn to ask. It's curiosity living within us all that makes 'Why' so alluring. And so dang funny sometimes.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

If it ain't one ticket, it's a warning

If you've never watched Supertroopers, you've missed the most hilarious first fifteen minutes of all time in any movie.
For those who have, I was pulled over by a FARVA clone today. Before any rumors spread about me and speeding, I wasn't. The cruise control was set on 70 in a 70 MPH four lane highway.

'Farva' pulled me over for occupying the passing lane. He strutted up to my door, all 140 pounds and 5'6" of Texas Khaki. Far be it from me to criticize a person's height, no one can control that, but doesn't it seem a little on the funny side to look down to a highway patrolman? Unless you are driving an 18-wheeler, eye to eye contact would be the norm, would it not?

In the span of five minutes, I learned that he was unmarried, didn't watch TV or have a computer, had no children to speak of, and enjoyed two-stepping. Um, officer, maybe you didn't see the wedding ring on my hand or the four Power Rangers in the backseat, but I am definitely married with children.

As he eyed the oncoming traffic, his chest swelled with pride. "Yep, I pulled over three cars in a row today for going over 75."
Wow, I kept to myself. Good to know our taxes are paying for 'Farva' to harass everyone on HWY 59.
While he wrote my warning, the ball in the back of my SUV caught his eye. "What's that for? You bounce on it?" He goose-honk laughed at his own joke.

His interest perked up at my career of choice. Leaning onto the car door, he confided,"You know, I could have been one of them therapists." He swabbed his nose with a closed fist and continued. "But the force called to me, so here I am. Protect and serve, that's me."

Uh huh, well I've got another patient to see so thanks for the warning.

He patted my bumper before I sped away.

I wonder if he sat on a seat cushion to see over the dashboard.

That was mean, I'm sorry.

But still, don't you?

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Boy did I pick the wrong day to quit...

Day Two in Hell
The world as a whole is against me.
Maybe it's my imagination, but was today "National Drink Dr Pepper Day"? At least fifty people imbibed the sugary concoction in front of me without any semblence of shame. Three women standing in line to pay the standard Texaco $100 gastank charge bragged about the perfect ratio between carbonation and syrup, as if I needed to hear that! A group of teenagers poured theirs out in a covert attempt to drive me insane BUT I remained strong. When a former patient of three years ago dropped by to say thanks, she held in her hand a cold Dr Pepper. Even though I nodded during the conversation, the faint sound of Dr Pepper himself whispered into my left ear, his hot breath tickled my neck:

"It looks delicious, no? You vant it, do you not? Vie not take a leetle sip? It von't hurt you, my precious leetle gerl."

For those that Dance with the Devil by the Pale Moonlight (AKA Diet Dr Pepper Drinkers), I have tried that route many times. Whoever says it tastes like the real thing also substitutes tuna for lobster. As for the caffeine free version, that's like kissing your brother on prom night. Same action, no passion.

Only 24 hours left, and I will have lasted the dreaded three day dry-out phase.

It is three days, right? The worst is over in three days, RIGHT?!


Monday, August 15, 2005

It's official. The divorce papers were filed yesterday, and I, for one, am happy. This love/hate relationship was doing nothing for me. Sure, at first he seemed harmless. He'd entertain me with his bubbly personality and then energize me all day with his charm. It was nothing for us to meet three or four times a day.

But something has changed. He doesn't act the same. What once was enjoyable became flat and dull. The sweet disposition that captured my attention suddenly turned syrupy and somewhat nauseating. And talk about baggage! He bought with him at least an additional 20 pounds into our world, which isn't healthy.

Bottom line, I will have to go cold turkey. We can't be friends, can't have a casual dinner, nothing. I know, I sound cold hearted, but what else can I do? This is not a productive relationship by any means.

Sixteen hours and I feel fine...really....OH GOD HELP ME, I MISS HIM SO MUCH!!!

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Thank you, Thank you very much....

Unfortunately, there were no PB and B rollups but to my surprise there were two corn concoctions that were either desserts or main entrees.
Notice the Budweiser lights? Yep, those are pool tables transformed into delicious buffet tables. There was a chicken enchilada dish that screamed EAT ME NOW. Four different deviled egg containers begged for my attention. And of course who can miss the bag of chicken? Confession time, that was my contribution. My mother suggested an easy way out since I was busy scanning and cropping photos for the family auction.

The stage's backdrop has always been the Budweiser gang. I think the women in the poster altogether weigh as much one normal person, but who cares?
That would be my husband with the full styrofoam cup. Free drinks, homemade food, and kareoke makes for a happy spouse. After a good four hours of friendly banter and drinking, he sang Merle Haggard, George Strait, George Jones, and our duet parody of "To All The Girls He's Loved before." Quite the concert, if I do say so myself.

Every year, this family gathers together to laugh, sing, drink, and eat. We lost the oldest member this year, a WWII POW and his sister as well. New babies joined the group, too. My one year old nephew garnered the youngest Prize. Casper sang "God Bless America" which earned a $5 prize, but Drama Diva was too busy playing with her cousins. She did add her own bit of history to the day by getting stung by TWO yellow jackets above and below her eye. Oh, the agony! As much as it hurt, and I have no doubt that it did, she worked it to the fullest degree. We are talking Oscar worthy performance.

There are more pictures to post this week, and more stories to tell but for now, I shall prepare for Casper's first day of KINDERGARTEN tomorrow. Don't mind me, I'll be the mother weeping in the corner.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Bologna and peanut butter, anyone??

Every year on the second Saturday in August, a distant branch of my family tree gathers at a bar. Yes, I said BAR. Nestled in the backwoods of a small Oklahoma town sits Skinny's, a basic hole in the wall joint. Two pool tables are transformed to a buffet, and the full horse trough becomes a swimming pool for around ten children of all ages. A fire hazardous, rickety trampoline made in the Dwight Eisenhower era and five llamas decorate the front yard.

The first year we attended, we were greeted by the hostess with, and I kid you not, bologna and peanut butter rollups with a banana slice garnish. Of course I passed on that, along with the mystery meat next to the seven KFC buckets. This is our fourth such reunion, and I have attempted to bring some sort of culture to these people. Last year I made 75 crab stuffed mushrooms. In less than five minutes, all were gone from the pool table/buffet. The bearded man that is relations to me in some odd way six times removed had the last four 'shrooms. Watching his wife chew hers without teeth while laughing at the latest "Git'er done" joke squelched any appetite I had for three hours.

Why do I go? Well, apart from the free beer and great blog material, one word:


Oh, yeah, uh huh, I'm a singer, yes I am...oh, sorry, got a little carried away there with the Cabbage Patch move. Duets, solos, and group renditions of all genres can be heard up and down the Red River. I am still legendary for my Melissa Etheridge impersonation, and hubby sure can "sang like that country sanger Toby Whatshisface". Drama Diva has practiced "Baby Girl" and Casper will delight the audience with "My Last Name."

So, as much as I hate to leave, this weekend will be blog free for me. I will, however, brainstorm some new Sunday Interviews for those that have so enjoyed them. While I am away, you are all required to LAUGH. That's it. Watch for Sunday's returning home post. It's sure to be eventful.

Stay safe, everybody.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Midgets and Donkeys and Boils, Oh My!!

You know your day is going to be interesting when someone tells you out of the blue that they have built a local midget a home. One of my patients detailed all of the modifications for the home, and just when I thought I wouldn't laugh outloud, he says...

"You know, their little butts fit right in the palm of my hand."

Something about a 9o year old man measuring out the width of a midget's rear end tickled my funny bone but I wasn't prepared for what happened next. My patient has hallucinations, mainly from medications and age-related dementia. He looked past me at the corner of the kitchen.

"GET DOWN FROM THERE 'FORE YOU TEAR UP THE MOLDIN'!" He shook his fist at the darkened corner. "Damn kids, they done tore up my bedroom. I'ma gonna call the schools tomorrow. They're old enough to be learning."

"Grandpop, there aren't any kids here." His granddaughter held a smirk for a moment before laughing.

"The hell there aint! I damn near fell on one of them yesterday in the bathroom. They just don't say a word, none of them."

Three patients later, donkeys surround my car. For some unknown reason, the family enjoys the braying and stomping of loose donkeys. One donkey, in particular, likes to charge the fence every time I pull up. This time, I thought I'd wave goodbye to the animal seeing as it was my last visit. Not smart,especially when the gate is open.
Did you know donkeys will try to bite a person?
Thank God I left my door unlocked.

And for the finale, one of my patient's family members has a large sore on his nose. When I say large, I mean half-dollar and right on the tip. Try not staring at it while he commands your complete attention regarding a fishing story. My patient, the only one that can hear in the entire home, likes to talk about it with him sitting only four feet away.
"Look at it! I can't stand to eat with him and that festering sore. Just look at him." All the time, he's smiling and nodding at me.
"Want something to drink?" He offers.
"She can't drink with that sore staring at her!" The patient screeches, but the man doesn't hear her. "SHE DOESN'T WANT ANYTHING!" He nods and continues to smile at me. I think his nose winked at me.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Flaming Blograffiti hits hard at the World according to Tish

How does that old saying go, you can please some of the people some of the time?

Well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, last night I experienced my first flaming comments. Many of my blogger friends have disclaimers on the sidebars warning against malicious comments but it wasn't until last night that I truly considered adding my own.

Stupid me, I deleted the comments from the post . The vulgarity and complete stupidity demonstrated by the writers is so offensive that I contemplated whether or not to share their hateful words. Now I wish I would have kept them on the post so you could read them there instead of here.

you are one iritating egotistical and average looking bitch
Posted by rapunzel the beautiful to Welcome to my world - The world of Tish at 8/07/2005 11:40:42 PM


Being called a bitch by someone that cannot spell the word irritating is beyond ridiculous but at least she/he spelled egotistical correctly. I imagine this person is either very young or very unhappy with their life, their own appearance, and has low self esteem. This comment didn't bother as much as this one:

I bet your husband fucks other women, because you and your shit must drive him crazy..heres some advice....dont hire a hot babysitter!! your bored husband will fuck her tight young pussy all night long and wish he never met plain ol' fat thighed you. I bet you suck in bed, too. You look stiff.
Posted by Anonymous to Welcome to my world - The world of Tish at 8/07/2005 11:43:40 PM

This is a coward, unable to sign his/her name to such filth. Maybe it's a man that has no sense of morality, or a boy teetering on the edge of puberty, or a woman that is so unhappy with herself or her life that her only recourse is verbal harrassment of someone they do not know, have never met, nor will have the right to judge in this lifetime.

The sitemeter information wasn't very helpful in identifying them. I know they are in New York, and came via a search on the bun and thigh rocker on Yahoo but other than that, nothing.

Sad, isn't it? Just when the blogworld feels like a friendly BBQ where all can sit and chat, there's always that idiot or group of idiots that ruin it for everyone.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

A Glimpse into the future PC-USA

Hollywood, 2055
At this year's Annual Academy Awards, every actress worth her salt will be wearing the fashion of the century- Burkas. Once thought as denigrating to women, today's elite embrace not only the full coverage that Burkas provide, but also have integrated this new Conservatism into Hollywood. No longer do we worry about nudity, foul language, or promiscuity. Each movie, approved by the UN and Islamic Clerics of the PC-USA, instills positive messages of submission and subjugation overlooked by such heretics like Stephen Spielberg, Ron Howard, Ang Lee, and Nora Ephron.

Of course, there are still those that cling to outdated notions of freedom and equality. In order to reduce the number of public beheadings, Amnesty International purchased all of the empty Federal Prisons to house such enemy combatants of the new PC-USA. Christians, educated women, literate children, and former military are all placed within these walls for their protection. Between the ACLU, former Islamic terrorists turned Senators, and pedophiles on the streets, the chances of survival for the rebels are slim.

It is the hope of the government that researchers can identify why these insurgents have not responded to the new PC-USA Constitution so that one day, any and all resistance to the new way of life can be extinguished with a simple vaccine.

In the meantime, the legacy of Osama Bin Laden and other heroic individuals that helped to squash the last of the rebellion will be taught to all male children in the caves all across this great nation.

In Allah We Trust.

Stupid Tish thought JAIL was appropriate

There are geniuses amongst us, people. They walk into courtrooms everyday wearing flowing black robes. With the wisdom of Solomon, these invaluable individuals are our last defense against the wicked and evil that walk in the shadows of our society.

Or so we thought.

On Wednesday in Judge Rose Guerra Reyna’s 206th state District Court Robert Wayne Thompson, 46, pleaded no contest to aggravated sexual assault of a child and indecency with a child by contact.
Because Thompson has a history of heart problems, the judge allowed him to knit afghans for 320 hours of community service. Each 40-by-40-inch afghan will count as six hours of community service. Thompson told the judge he could make two afghans a day.

Words escape me, at least the ones that I will use on my blog. Knitting? Are you kidding me?
What's next on this supposed judge's docket? Needlepoint for rapists? Or would that be too stressful on the criminals' eyes? Oh, that's right, we should consider the health of each felon so maybe something along the lines of sketching portraits or macrame would be better choices.

Let me offer this solution: give me the knitting needles and the child molester. I can teach him a thing or two about missing a stitch that won't easily be forgotten. Or resuscitatable, if you know what I mean.


Friday, August 05, 2005

Do I have to solve everything???

Illegal immigration. Once a romantic idea, crossing over the border for a better life and opportunities but with national security concerns , border crossings are tantamount to pre-terroristic attacks. A few Islamic militants can afford to bribe the already poverty stricken immigrants on their journey to the Promised Land. Problem is, once they arrive here with their travelling companion, all Hell can and probably will break loose.

The other argument that swirls around illegal immigration is we, the tax payers of the United States, absorb the cost of their education, healthcare, and housing. We've all heard how the migrant workers will do the jobs that Americans won't do. Hmm, we have thousands of incarcerated criminals with three square meals a day, healthcare, and housing...and what are they doing? Sucking from the teat that is government. The fact that new for-profit prisons are being built all across the nation should be the first clue that our prison population isn't shrinking. It sounds to me that we are not utilizing a workforce population that has an endless supply of labor.

Truth be told, we will cannot and will not ever stop illegal immigrants from poring into our country. There is too much money involved but that's where we as American citizens can get our piece of the pie.

I claim my kids on my taxes, seeing as I pay for their well being with my hard earned dollars. The same can be applied to illegal immigrants. We pay for them, their children, their well being. Why can't we claim Maria, Jose, and others on our taxes? It seems only fair that we prosper like the agricultural businesses do from paying them pittance. It seems only logical that the people that pay for the care of these people are allowed an exemption for their trouble.

There is no doubt that Mexico has little to offer its citizens when you compare it to the USA. Who amongst us would not try our damndest to escape a life of poverty? Like so many people, I have sympathy for these people and their children. But like my mother always said, I didn't take the whole neighborhood to raise. Sometimes enough is enough.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

The Speeding Ticket Pre-Trial

Apart from the serial killer episodes, I've learned quite a bit about representing myself from Dick Wolf. It's too bad that the Mr. Bald Short Policeman couldn't have been Chris Noth, though. I would have volunteered for a pat-down and possible strip search (just kidding...kind of.)

Phrases like "I object" "Just answer yes or no, please" and "May I approach the witness, your Honor?" will find their way into my defense. My dear friend Hoss suggested that I play soft, which might work for most normal people, but I come from a long line of George Costanza-like raving lunatics that enter a courtroom with a 1958 suitcase filled with papers while wearing squeaky shoes. It's in my blood to point, accuse, and if nothing else works, effectively cry. Crying won't work in this courtroom, I've heard, as it is a female judge with no patience for playing the sob card.

It's in my best interest to wear not the spit cup scrubs (the stain did come out with five washings), but maybe my khakis and not too tight aqua shirt. Color without emphasis on possible body parts that the judge could or could not have been born with, if you get my meaning. No loud lipsticks, no spiky hair, just boring Tish. OR I could wear my black power suit that just screams DON'T DENY ME! Of course, along with that suit comes the channeling of Joan Crawford and her attitude, so that may work against me in the long run.

Did I mention that the fine is 196 bucks? That's more than I spend on myself in six months, not counting Dr. Peppers of course. The fine won't increase if I lose my case, so what do I have to lose by going to trial? Hmm, maybe dignity? The likelihood of me making a complete ass of myself is about as great as Terrell Owens being booed by his own fans.

Maybe I should just pay the fine.

But then I'd lose out on all of this great blog material, so for all of you, I will pursue this. It's for my fans, always about the fans.

Send bail money...

Monday, August 01, 2005

Monday at 5:43 pm.

It's not a good idea to pull Tish over when:
  • Drama Diva and Casper directly defied a simple request FOUR TIMES.
  • The Regional Funk Stank Patient Convention held their annual meeting at every patient's home that I visited today.
  • A patient that uses Scotch Snuff accidently missed her spit cup...and now I need new scrub pants. (Yes, you read it right, it was a woman dipping snuff!)
  • The PetSmart flunkie decides to make an example out of my check card not working when I know good and darn well there is more than $27.99 in the account. 100 pounds of dog food, people, every three weeks now. It's a zoo here.
  • A teenager at the EZ Mart called me an old lady and not in a respectful way, either. I've got your old lady right here, buster, and it's called a Jackie Chan spin kick. Just let me stretch my hamstrings first and I'll show you.
  • FOUR, let me say again FOUR cars are in front of me on a FOUR lane road, and I am the chosen one? The street that runs directly in front of my house is 35 MPH but is known as the Audobon to most drivers but do you see Mr. Bald Short Policeman radaring that road? Of course not. We must stick close to the mall and its interchanges to catch SUV driving mothers.

Mondays. Hate 'em with a passion.