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Kelly Melang, writer, business owner, avid fitness freak.  If you're not living on the edge then you're taking up too much space!

Monday, October 16, 2017

WTF - My Child's A Delinquent

Many know I have an imaginary family, the Pelmans that I wrote a novel about (working on getting it published) and several short stories. This Pelman short story was inspired from events last week:

Yes, I did embellish a little bit....and if you don't have a sense of humor, move on my friends.

The principle's office was bright, sunlight coming through the large windows hitting the group of photographs on the corner of his desk. The name plate next to them read Milford T. Pusser, Principle.

She needs some highlighting and a good trim for those split ends, Gaylord Pelman thought looking at the pictures. His Perlington salon, Curl Up and Dye when Gaylord won the Curling Iron Throwdown at the National Hairdressers Convention. Since then, he perfected "zombie hair" for the local television show, Catfish Crawling and it is rumored, once did Angelina Jolie's hair in a pinch.  It is obvious the Mom cuts the kids' hair, he added feeling for his Golden Shears in his back pocket, not telling the principle he had the shears, afraid of what Darnell Preston, School Security would do with the weapon. Luckily at the William Jefferson Clinton Elementary and Middle School, due to budget cuts or just fear of what Darnell would do, the School Security guard yielded a taser instead of a handgun.

"I have the 6 o'clock news feature tonight so we have to get this show on the road," Myrtle, Gay's wife and local reporter said from the other seat.

Principle Pusser moved to Perlington from Atlanta when Kathryn Harris retired from 40 glorious years as principle at William Jefferson Clinton School. His first year at the school included one lock down due to a 21 gun salute at a local cemetery for Reuben Watkins one of the last WW2 vets living in Perlington. A parent running in from the carpool line screaming, "Shots fired! Shots fired!" and Darnell immediately putting the school into a Code Red Lockdown. Now his second major incident at the school and he wasn't surprised there was a Pelman involved.

Before he could say anything else, the door to his office opened and Marshall, Gay and Myrtle's son came into the office. William Jefferson Clinton housed both Pelman boys, Marshall and Dillon, Marshall in the 8th grade, Dillon in the 6th grade. Marshall closed the door behind him looking between his parents then over to the principle.

Principle Pusser gestured to the empty chair between his parents. The door opened one more time, Darnell Preston, Security Guard standing in the back of the room, his hand resting on his taser. Marshall took the chair looking at the ground.

Principle Pusser coughed gaining everyone's attention to his desk. He clasped his hands together, "Now we are all here because there has been a serious infraction at the school by your son and he has been supplying the other children in the class."

Myrtle leaned forward, "Principle Pusser, I can assure you we will deal with this matter with the strongest discipline." She looked over to her son.

Principle Pusser looked between both parents, Marshall's eyes still on the ground. "Marshall tells me that his grandmother has been supplying him and he's been dealing with the other boys."

Myrtle looked to her son, Gay was quiet because Myrtle's look can bring a punk rocker to his knees, he let her do all the work. Her eyes narrowed as Marshall looked over to him, "Dealing son?"

Marshall cried, "It's just candy!"

"You are giving out candy?" Gay asked his son.

"No, he has been selling," Principle Pusser replied.

"Drugs? Our son has been dealing drugs? Drugs he got from your mother?" Myrtle's eyes went over to Gaylord, causing him to slink in his chair.

"No, candy," Principle Pusser said.

Myrtle was starting to slap Marshall upside the head, stopped, "Candy?"

Principle Pusser continued, "Yes, Marshall has been complacent in the selling of Smarties to the student body."

Myrtle looked over to her son, then back to the principle, "Is this some type of code word for dugs, Smarties? Or are we talking about the candy?"

Principle Pusser replied, "We are talking about the candy Smarties and how Marshall has gotten most of classmates to try them with him."

Gay frowned, "So my son has gotten his friends to try Smarties and I'm here in this office because?"

Principle Pusser replied, "Yes, these kids were caught snorting Smarties."

Marshall piped in, "We were not snorting Smarties, we were smoking Smarties."

Gay looked at his son, "Son you know the dangers of smoking, we told you not to smoke!"

Marshall was looking quickly between his parents, "I wasn't smoking, I was smoking Smarties."

Principle Pusser was going through his prepared speech, "And we all know that snorting Smarties is dangerous."

"Smoking!" Marshall exclaimed, "We all know snorting Smarties can get maggots in your lungs."

Myrtle was looked at her son, "So you were not doing drugs? You were doing candy?"

Principle Pusser nodded, "Yes, Marshall was caught with several other classmates smoking Smarties in the boys restroom. Mrs. Plimpkin the librarian called Mr. Preston here to check on a group of boys that went to restroom together."

"I got them red handed, and all the other boys pointed to your boy here as their dealer," Darnell Preston said, pulling a plastic bag with opened packs of Smarties sitting in it, "I have the evidence."

"We are talking about candy right?" Myrtle asked.

"Yes, the children smoke the Smartie dust. So I go and cut the lock on Marshall's locker and I find this," Darnell picked up a box packed with Smarties, putting it on Principle Pusser's desk. "When I asked him where he got the Smarties, he said his grandmother is supplying him."

Gay looked over to Myrtle who voiced exactly what was on his mind, "We are still talking about candy, right? There is no code word Smarties for meth or anything?"

Principle Pusser replied, "I cannot let your son get everyone hooked on smoking Smarties at school. You know the Smarties could be a gateway drug to heroin."

Gay almost choked, "Hell, I smoked Smarties when I was a kid and I turned out just fine." He wasn't going to mention the occasional cannabis use.

"What Principle Harris condoned when she was at the school is her business, I do not condone the dealing of Smarties at the school," Principle Pusser replied.

"Dealing of Smarties," Gay muttered, "is probably the least of your worries."

"So where we are is, I've banned Smarties at the William Jefferson Clinton School and I will write up Marshall's infraction and if he deals Smarties at the school again he will be suspended. I will not be responsible if one of my kids ends up making a meth lab from smoking Smarties at school.

Myrtle looked at Marshall, over at Gay, "Yes, sir, believe me the Smarties will stop flowing into the school, Gay and will have a talk with Marshall and Dillon and their grandmother about that. Now if we are done here, I have a new feature to film." 

"I appreciate that," Principle Pusser said, "We only want what is best for the children."

Myrtle got up pulling Marshall by the scruff of his neck, Darnell jumping to the side as she opened the door. Gay followed them out the door mutter, "Then make sure that Skittles doesn't infiltrate the school."

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

WTF - Bra Shopping

I have a friend getting married soon and was perusing the curiosity isle for that perfect gift. I think I found a few contenders what do you think?

In the age of everyone looking like they are wearing their underwear, people have gotten creative with the bra industry.  I thought I would share a few floating around the internet.

Now this one is a true Control Her!  Or if you are tired of asking for a little more fun, just tell your better half to enjoy pressing your buttons.

This is perfect if your other half wants to "Go where no man has gone before."

I found this one in the back of my closet, if was a gift from my father for my 16th birthday.

Now really?  Doesn't everyone realize the chocolate would MELT?

This way you don't have to ask them, "Do you like me?  Do you really like me?"

I tried this once when I quit breast feeding.  I'll never forget the cashier at the supermarket's face when I tried paying for the cabbage sporting my Triple X's.  I think he dropped my change 32 times.

And of course, you can always answer YES when they say "Your high beams are on!"

What even happened to go the good ole support bras that always said, "I'll be there for you" on the packaging?

Or of course, the coconut shell bras?  Let me go search my underwear drawer for mine.

Which one should I buy?

Wait, do we give bras and stuff for a bridal shower? I've been out of the loop for a while!

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

My Work - Witness Protection

This is a story from an upcoming collection of short stories.

Tales From The Silver Side - The Reedy Fork Retirement Home

I hope you enjoy it.

Tales From The Silver Side coming out in November from Amazon and Kindle.

Witness Protection

She wasn’t ready to head home to go back to school. She wasn’t ready to head home at all. Casey wanted just one more week on the coast of California. She had the rest of her life in Baltimore. What was one more week?

She was mad when her mother started nagging on the phone about not missing the first week of school, explaining how she put off college for four years, and can’t put it off any longer since the tuition was covered. Then she got really pissed when her mother explained how to pick up her one-way plane ticket at the counter at Los Angeles International Airport. Her mother softened the blow, explaining the ticket was first class, probably the one-and-only time Casey would ever ride first class. Both parents went through a long list of things that would be taken away if she was not on that plane, a long enough list that Casey couldn’t back out.

Casey boarded the flight, moving to seat 2A, knowing she had responsibilities but this whole adulting thing wasn’t for her. She didn’t want to go home; she didn’t want to get lost in college; she just wanted to stay with Benjamin McFarland on Hermosa Beach.

Casey worked out some of her frustration on her seatbelt, calming as the flight attendant asked her if she wanted something to drink. “Umm, a beer,” she said, quietly accepting her fate.

While the flight attendant disappeared to get her drink, Casey closed her eyes and said a soft prayer, “Please Lord, it’s bad enough I have to leave Benjamin; please let me have a good flight, OK?”

Before she could say, “Amen,” a short, elderly lady escorted by a very handsome flight attendant stopped by the seat next to hers. Casey’s face fell as the woman threw a large embroidered bag on the floor in front of her seat attempting to cram it into the space under the seat in front of her. When the line to board lengthened the people waiting starting to grumble, the same gorgeous flight attendant came back, saying, “Can I try putting this in the overhead bin, or would you like me to check it to your destination?”

The old woman grabbed her bag, “Honey, my life is in this bag, so is my medication. No one wants me to have a heart attack on this plane, now do they?” she said loud enough, causing the line behind her to stop complaining for a minute.

“Then let’s put it in the overhead bin,” the flight attendant said, trying to pull the bag from her. When the woman wouldn’t let go, he tried a different tactic, opening the bin and pulling out a bag, looking to Casey, saying, “Is this yours?”

Casey cursed the gods, “Yes, that is my bag.” The flight attendant handed it to her, “Can you try and fit it under your seat?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

The old woman grabbed Casey’s bag and threw it on the floor, Casey thinking about her iPod, “Oh, it will fit,” she said sitting down pushing the bag under the seat with her feet. Casey thought about her turkey sandwich, her iPod, and the fudge she was taking back to her brother smashing into one big blob under the seat in front of her. “Uh, thanks.”

The woman smiled, “No problem, sweetie. Always willing to help,” the whole row of seats shifted as she fell into seat 2B.

Casey didn’t answer, turning and staring out the window, wondering if Benjamin McFarland was still in the airport watching her airplane, or if he already went back to Hermosa Beach, meeting someone new. Was he missing her as much as she missed him?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the old woman grabbed her hand, “My name is Dolores, but everyone calls me Dottie. I mean all my friends, all the ones still living, call me that. Since we are on this long flight together, might as well be friends?” Before Casey could answer, Dottie continued, “I mean, that’s my philosophy: spend enough time with someone, and eventually you either become friends or enemies, and by the look of you,” she stopped, looking Casey up and down pausing just long enough to take a breath nodding, “We will definitely become friends.”

Casey gave her a weak smile. She thought of Benjamin, turning, leaning her head against the window, a lone tear running down her cheek.

“Oh, sweetie, what is it? Did you have to tell someone goodbye?” Dottie asked, handing Casey a tissue from her pocket, Casey wondering if it was used. 

Casey wanted to be mad at Dottie, but she couldn’t, she simply sniffed, accepting the tissue.

Dottie signaled the flight attendant, “I think I need a Jack Daniels.”

The flight attendant looked down, the passengers finishing loading the airplane, “We are getting ready for departure.”

Dottie turned looking down the aisle, “Honey, half of this airplane hasn’t even walked onboard yet, if I am not done by the time that door closes, then I deserve you taking away my drink.”

The flight attendant looked at them, sighing, returning shortly with two bottles of Jack Daniels and two cups of ice. Dottie thanked her, offered a bottle to Casey, who refused, putting the bottle into her large purse, “Don’t want to waste it; we can always save for later.”

She poured a drink, took a sip turning to Casey, “So, was it a man?”

Casey sniffed, nodding.

Dottie took a sip of her drink, “Tell me all about it.”

Casey for some reason started talking, later she would tell her friends she couldn’t explain why, she felt compelled to tell Dottie everything, “I met Benjamin at Club Therapy.”

“Club Therapy, is that a mental hospital?” Dottie asked.

“No, it’s a martini bar on the South side,” Casey replied.

“A martini bar named Therapy, there’s a joke in there somewhere.” Dottie took a sip of her drink, “Oh, I get it, therapy.” She held up her glass, winking.

Casey smiled, “I mean we connected on a cosmic level, like we knew each other forever. But life gets in the way, it always does. I have to go home and back to school. I feel like I am leaving my fairy tale behind,” Casey said, trying to end with a dramatic sigh, it coming out like a dramatic snort.

She expected something from Dottie, Dottie was silent. She sipped her drink, pulled a crochet needle out of her bag, turning a few knots,” So you fell in love.”

Casey sniffed again, “Yes.”

“And how long were you in Hermosa Beach?” Dottie asked.

“Two weeks,” Casey replied, wiping her eyes.

Dottie took another sip of her drink, paused, saying, “You don’t know shit.”

Casey dropped her tissue, looking at Dottie, “Excuse me?”

Dottie handed her a fresh tissue from her purse, “Honey, you don’t even know the boy if you’ve only been with him two weeks. Love is fickle; you have to pay your dues before you find true love.”

“Pay your dues,” Casey repeated, wondering if she should feel offended.

“When I mean pay your dues, it is kissing all those frogs, like Cinderella.” Dottie said.

Casey looked at her, “Cinderella didn’t kiss any frogs; she had the glass slipper.”

“Frogs, slippers, you know what I mean. Life is cruel, because you need to learn your lesson about the frogs,” Dottie replied.

Casey was beginning to wonder if she was sitting next to a crazy woman, “I don’t follow you.”

Dottie took another sip of her drink, “You have to learn what it feels like to fall in love a few times, so you don’t miss it when the real thing comes along.”

“How it feels to fall in love?” Casey asked.

“Right, now when you see this Stanley fellow…” Dottie started.

“Benjamin McFarland.”

“Right, him, does your heart speed up?” Dottie asked.

“Yes,” Casey smiled.

“And your body feels hot,” Dottie added.

“Yes,” Casey whispered.

“And you get, well you know what I mean,” Dottie finished.

Casey blushed, “Um, yes.”

Dottie turned to her seat mate, “Now, the big question, have you felt that way before, with another boy?”

Casey pondered that for a moment before replying, “But this time is different.”

“And that is why nature throws us curve balls, you don’t know if he is the right one until you can tell the difference between just flutters and the real thing,” Dottie nodded. “They all start out as frogs, we have to figure out which one is the prince.”

“It really felt like he was my prince,” Casey sniffed.

“Human beings are hard-wired to fall in love. It really doesn’t take much. Let me guess, in your case it was a sandy beach, a beautiful sunset, the salt air…” Dottie ticked each item off of her fingers.

Casey smiled, that was the exact setting when she told Benjamin she loved him, “You forgot Kenny Chesney.”

Dottie laughed, “Mine was Mel Torme.”

“Mel Torme?”

Dottie smiled, “You haven’t heard music until you’ve heard the “The Velvet Fog.” That guy can put you in the mood for even a gynie appointment.”

Casey laughed, “Who was your frog?”

The flight attendant appeared clearing away their glasses, “I’m sorry ladies, we are getting ready for takeoff.”

Dottie smiled at her, “Don’t worry, but make sure you bring it back. I’ve got a story to tell.”

They leaned back quietly in their seats as the plane taxied out to the runway, and after a short wait, were in the air heading east. Dottie looked over to Casey, “I met my frog over 56 years ago. I was 20, and Henry was 26 years old. The first time I saw him was my first day of basic training.”

“Basic training,” Casey asked, her interest piqued.

“He was the freshly sheared blonde, looking scared, standing with the line of recruits,” Dottie laughed.

“You were in basic training,” Casey asked, trying to picture Dottie in a uniform.

“No, honey, I was a nurse at the base. Henry came in with a sprained ankle, his first day in training,” Dottie’s eyes got a far-away look.

“How long have you been married?” Casey asked.

“Married? I haven’t married him – yet,” Dottie replied with a smile.


“Let me continue. I met Henry when he was stationed for basic training. First it was a sprained ankle that brought him into the infirmary. The second time was a laceration to his arm and a few stitches. He finally got the nerve up to ask me out for coffee when he came in with a broken nose. I joked with him if he hadn’t asked me out sooner, he’d be dead.” Dottie sighed.

“How long did you date?” Casey asked.

“We dated for the four weeks of basic training, then he left,” Dottie said frowning.

“What? I thought he was your prince.” Casey said, confused.

“He was still a frog then. He ended up leaving before I realized he was my prince,” Dottie explained.

“You didn’t marry him?”

“He was sent to Vietnam, and I lost track of him. I figured this was life teaching me what it felt like to fall in love, but he wasn’t the real thing. Then I met Corky,” Dottie smiled.


“Yes, my husband. We were married for 52 years. We had five children and 32 grandchildren, six great grandchildren. He started as a frog, too, but I stuck with him, and he became my prince.” Dottie started crocheting again.

Casey felt like something was left out, “Then why are you telling me about Henry?”

“Because sometimes a frog comes into your life again. I ran into him again a few years later when Henry came to the VA with heart problems,” Dottie replied.

“How did you know it was him?” Casey asked.

“A woman’s heart doesn’t forget her first love, especially if you let that frog go. Inevitably he will come back into your life, like Henry did,” Dottie said, sipping her drink.

“Did he recognize you?” Casey asked, a romantic picture of them meeting again in her mind.

Dottie nodded, “He was coming out of anesthesia, and I was there.” Henry said, ‘Have I died and gone to heaven? I never thought I would see you again.’ I remember smiling at him and saying, ‘Let’s not start getting hurt again just to see me.’”

Casey was mesmerized, “Did you fall in love with him?”

Dottie took a deep breath, “The strange part is that I never really fell out of love with him. It was all there, rushing back at once, the sweaty palms, the weak knees, the full body flush – like what you feel with Bernie.”

“Benjamin,” Casey corrected.


“Did you run away with him?” Casey asked.

Dottie sighed, “That’s where life can be tricky. My frog was a prince, but it wasn’t our time. We were both married to great people we loved, and running away would affect too many other people’s lives.”

Casey couldn’t help herself, “But he was your prince.”

“That’s my point, it all depends on when and where. Sometimes you have to choose. Corky, he was a frog too, I married him, wondering if I would eventually see a prince. And you know what?”


“I did. He became my prince during our journey together. My partner in our home healthcare business, my partner in raising all those kids, helping me deal with aging parents, and making difficult decisions. I could not leave my prince behind for a lost love, when I had the real thing right in front of me.”

“Oh,” Casey whispered, feeling her story was so small.

“Too many give up when the going gets tough. They think they have a frog, and then they learn too late it really was a prince. If he is your prince, he will wait for you. Or you may find during time apart another prince enters your life. Even if different princes enter your life, you’ve decided and committed to your prince; it’s a life-time journey, a work in progress until the end.”

“Wow.” Casey said quietly.

Dottie settled back in her seat, “My Corky passed away about a year ago.”

Casey felt tears in her eyes, “Oh, wow, I am so sorry.”

Dottie waved her off, “That’s where it gets really ironic.”


“Yes, after Corky died, I decided to treat myself to a Senior Singles Cruise of Alaska,” Dottie said.

“And you fell in love again?”

“No, but it helped me decide that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. I am moving into a retirement home,” Dottie said smiling.

“What? Why would you do that?” Casey asked.

Dottie pulled a brochure out of her bag handing it to Casey, “See, this is where I am going: The Reedy Fork Retirement Home.”

“Why there, across America on the East coast? Isn’t your family on the West coast?” Casey asked, wondering if Dottie had lost her mind.

Dottie pointed to a picture inside the brochure.

Casey looked at it, “A cyber cafe? You are moving across the United States for a cyber cafe? I am sure there is a home in California with a cyber cafe.”

“No, that picture is why I am going. See that man sitting at the computer?” Dottie said, pointing to a very distinguished man.


“That’s Henry.”

Sunday, October 1, 2017

WTF - The Doctor's Visit

I've always hated doctor visits because usually when I go I am sick.

And the first thing .the receptionist asks me is, "What is the purpose of your visit?"

This time I couldn't state the obvious of "I am sick" so I decide to say, "Renewing my prescription of Viagara."  She didn't think it was funny.

Going to the doctor is like going to any ride in the Disney Park.

You get through the door and think well there's not a whole lot of people waiting, this could be pretty easy.

30 minutes later you are the only person in the waiting room without a sickness mask, and you've finished reading the Ulcers Weekly and Irritable Bowel Magazine

This is where they get you.

Before you get pissed, they move you to the next holding tank making you think you are moving along, just like those lines for the rides. Bait and switch.

The nurse takes me from the waiting room back to the examination rooms.

My weight is what?

My God, I shrunk?

My blood pressure is normal because my kids aren't around.

Here's the second bait and switch. Once you leave the waiting room, you think, "Cool now things are progressing!"

They take you into a room, make you strip and put on something like a large paper trash bag saying, "The doctor will be with you in just a minute."

See? Disney! You think you are almost there and bam! There's a turn around the corner and another 100 people waiting!

So you wait feeling the cold breeze going up the paper bag  while every move crunches up the paper on the table until it is a tangled mess. After checking all your social media sights on your phone you finally looking up thinking, "Where are they?"

At this point they know you are starting to get antsy so the Doctor will walk past your door talking while someone bangs your medical chart next to the door. This gives them more time before they have to see you, because basically you are a prisoner sitting half naked waiting. They know you'll not get dressed to go out and find out what is taking so long!

After another 30 minutes of waiting naked, 

He finally makes it to your room, you are either asleep or wove the tissue you've been lying on into a quilt because your backside is freezing.

"What seems to be the problem?" He asks in his doctor's voice.

 This is where the doctor's presence is the ride portion of the Disney ride, you wait over an hour and then before you know it after 5 minutes it's over and you are walking out of the doctor's office holding some type of prescription slip.

"This prescription has possible side effects including, excessive flatulence, diarrhea, nose bleeds and suicidal thoughts."

Shit, I should just go home and sip some honey and whiskey and call it a day, it's much cheaper than all these pills.

Plus if I drink enough I'll feel like I'm on that Disney ride and that doesn't include the wait.

Do you think a trip to the doctor is like a Disney ride?

Thursday, September 28, 2017

WTF - But Officer!

We all know those drivers.

I'm talking about those drivers.

Not us.

Those drivers.

You're taking that leisurely drive home from the bar, the restaurant, the PTA meeting, the adult bookstore and there they are:

Sitting on your ass. Riding so close you feel like you should smoke a cigarette with them.

You check your speed, are you going to slow? No, you are the required 7 miles over the speed limit.

What the hell?

So what do you do? Pull over and let them by? That's what you should do, right?

Hell No, you slow down, of course. Don't hit the brakes yet, just slow down enough to really piss the jackass off.

So you drive a little slow, give them the stink eye in your rear view mirror (which they cannot see)  until you're tired of driving slow, right?

Then you decide you'll pull over, letting the jackass ahead of you and be done with it, right?


Pull over, give them the stink eye as they pass then let things go.

No, you decide you should now ride their ass. Let them feel your breath down their throat.

Until the cop lights come on behind you.

"Do you know why you were pulled over?"

"Was I speeding?"

"No, you were tailgating."

"What!?! Wait a minute! That jackass was tailgating me!" You point to the car fading into the distance.

"You are the only one I saw tailgating." (Showing him my Snapchat of jackass tailgater is out of the question, right?)

"Seriously, that black car up there with the Salt Life sticker rode my butt all the way down 105!"

"Now let's not get excited here, Just calm down."

Yelling at a cop, not the smartest decision here.

He walks back to his car, I'm waiting, I'm thinking if I ever see that damn black SUV with the Salt Life sticker on the back, I'm gonna have a word with them. Then I'm wondering what a "following too closely" ticket costs.

He comes back, "Everything checks out. Just don't tailgate, OK? Have a good night."

"Thank you officer."

So what lessons about human nature did we learn here? Don't tailgate? OK. Mentioning the term Jackass in front of a policeman is probably not a good idea? You got it.

Of course the most important one,

Always say thank you!

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

WTF - 30 Years? Really? How To Survive

Today marks the day - 30 years of marriage! I still think the day is wrong it was the 27th, but since we got a bottle of Angel's Envy engraved with 9/26/87 I'm going with it, right.

So how does marriage work? I thought I would share some blogs from the past years on how we do it!

Funny story about how our marriage works.  Jeff hates it when I waste money throwing away food.  So I bought a whole chicken with the intentions of cooking a gourmet meal for us (lemon, tyme, stuffing all the fixins) but I put the chicken in the bottom drawer of the fridge and promptly forgot about it.  (when's the last time YOU looked in the bottom drawer of your fridge) So a couple of weeks go by and I realize I forgot about the chicken by the smell.  What to do?  Rather than fess up, I go and bury the chicken in the bottom of the trash can and set it out for pickup.  Done deal, lecture averted right?

No, the next morning, we're getting ready and I'm shocked to see my husband running through the house in a business suit with two large white trashbags going up each arm.

"What's going on?"

He stops for a second, "You're not gonna believe this, but there's a raw chicken sitting in our front yard!"

I don't even pause, "How'd that get there?"

He walks out the door, "I don't know but I gotta get it before they think we're into some voodoo shit!"

So there you have it, a great way to keep your marriage happy.......ok, I fessed up as he came back in, but I couldn't help laughing through my confession.  Voodoo shit?  "Those Melangs, you know they've got raw chickens and I swear I smell incense....."

How do you survive 30 years?

Marriage - two people bound together by the same sense of humor.

For example:

Husband, Where do you want to go out to eat?

Me, Whatever you want to do.
Husband, Tacos?
Me, I don't feel like tacos.
Husband, "Pizza?
Me, Pizza is too greasy.
Husband, Hamburgers
Me, Hamburgers are too fattening.
Husband, what do YOU want to eat.
Me, Whatever, it doesn't matter.

My husband watches me work the straw of a a Cook Out Milkshake like a hooker at a bachelor party. After five minutes I realize he is staring at me, so I say, "What?" He shakes his head saying, "I've been cheated!"

Change to him blowing out half a lung blowing up balloons for a party, I look at his blood red sweaty face saying, "Don't hurt yourself, I'm not driving all the way to the hospital."

My husband walks in on me naked - on my hands and knees scrubbing the tub.  "Are you propositioning me?" He asks with a smile. "Of course not, I'm multitasking," I mutter.

My husband walks into the bedroom as I am scrambling underneath the covers with an "Ahhhh." "Are you propositioning me?" He asks. "No, not unless you want poison ivy," I mutter.

Coming up on that special wedding anniversary, I say, "We should get married again." Without skipping a beat he says, "To who?"

Some young buck in the neighborhood asks if I want my driveway shoveled of 16 inches of snow, I look at my hubby and say, "Oh no thanks, his insurance policy is up to date!"

In the middle of an argument, I caught myself saying, "You think I think I am always right - well, YOU'RE WRONG!" I can't remember what we were arguing about after that sentence. 

Husband: Are you going to share those cheese and crackers.

Me, looking at my plate silently counting the number of cheese and crackers.
Me, slowly sliding the plate away from husband.

You know you've been married a long time when part of your date night involves describing something disgusting in detail, and your hubby responds with a few more questions for clarity.

Child walk by with Hazmat diaper, he looked to me saying, "Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

Oh and of course my favorite saying, usually said at least once a day:

"Oh? Did I F*ck up again?"

So there ya have it, here's to not killing each other for 30 years and for another 30 more!

Have you ever had a chicken in your front yard?