True Story

True Story:  You can’t make it up. Truth really is stranger than fiction.

Middle-aged man in bar:  You want to go out to my car with me?

Me:  No

Middle-aged man in bar:  I’m rich as shit.


I’m bartending in a bar in Big Sky Ski Resort. A very well-dressed, middle-aged couple come in. She’s wearing a full length fur. Bar just opened and is empty waiting for all the apres skiers and boarders to come off the mountain. I put a beverage napkin in front of them.

Me:  What can I get for you?

Man:  I detect an accent. Where are you from?

Me:  Alabama.

Lady:  Oh… So you don’t like black people?

Me:  Speechless


I went to a school reunion. I am a realtor so I passed out cards. Sure, always looking for business, but really just a way to keep in touch because it has my phone # and email address on it. I handed it to one young woman who I was pretty good friends with. This group was inviting me to join their supper club.

Old friend/classmate:   You know, I’m really busy. I’m probably not going to call you.

She hands me my card back. Wouldn’t most of you just throw it away???

{February 26, 2010}   I’ve always been a great writer

True Story:  I LOVED Camp

I was ready to move out of the house and get my own apartment when I was 2. Always independent. So, of course, I couldn’t wait to go to camp every year.

Camp Mac wouldn’t accept you until you were nine, but we found a camp that would take me at 7, so I didn’t have to wait the gruelling 2 more years to fly the coop for a month each summer. Camp Mac is the bomb!

The picture to the left is an example of the beautiful letters I sent home every year.

Camp letter #1

Dear Mom, I am having a great time at Camp Cosby. I’m going sking, I sure can’t wait. we have archery, it’s real fun. you did not sighn the part about mini bikes but they let me go. Ashley

P.S. I love you

I was sometimes taken out of camp for a diving or gymnastics meet for about 24 hours. Apparently, once I got back to camp I needed to update my parents about what went on at the sporting event, because total strangers picked me up from Camp and returned me. WTF?

Camp Letter #2


Hey, What’s happening in Jasper? I got a gold on the low board and a fourth on the high board. Instead of missing campfire I missed rec hall cause of the rain. I got a boyfriend his name is Todd. Ashley

Love ya’ll

It’s important to have a healthy ego when young. I don’t think I was lacking. You also need to exclaim! every sentence in a letter home so your family “get’s it”.

Camp letter #3

Dear Mom, This will be your last letter, we’re having our basic rescue written test! I want to come back next year to Camp! I hope I get a lot of awards on award night! Campfire’s tomorrow night!

Love ya, Ashley

Camp Letter #4

Send me some embroidery string please! Ashley

I think I expected my family members to answer my questions telepathically.

Camp Letter #5

Hey ya’ll, What are you doing? Tonight’s college night I’m wearing my alabama boxers!  See ya’ll


My family never sent me any packages. It sucked! All my camp friends would get packages every other day. I would specifically request packages with forbidden gum & candy taped to the pages of magazines. By the time anyone got around to sending me one, it was time to go home.

In the letter below I am now appealing to my 5 years younger sister assuming she can read, AND go to the store to purchase the products I need and mail them.

Camp Letter #6

Hey L, Sorry the writing so sloppy but I jamed my fingure really bad playing tetherball. What have you been doing? When are ya’ll gone to write? Send me a toothbrush. I’m having a great time. We had rechall last night. (a dance) Send me some stamps please. I don’t want to get taken out of camp! Love ya!


Camp Letter #7


Hey ya’ll, My fingers better but still can’t be in talent night cause it’s tonight. I was just drinking out of my canteen. See I’m a wrangler so on long pants day we’re the last people into lunch cause we got to put up the horses. so theres no counsliers and we fill are canteen up with cool-ade! mom will you send me some cool-ade paks (please)! Havin fun! See ya’ll. Love,


Camp Letter #9


Mom, What’s happening in Jasper? Yesterday was fun it was Sunday. Tonight is Senior college night. I think we have courts. I’m having so much fun! Last night was movie night. Tell P that I told everyone he knew hi! And everybody said he was so good-looking. I have the same problem everybody thinks I’m good-looking too! Ha ha just kidding. Send me a package.  Ashley

I cherish these memories. I hope my son will have as much fun as I did. More camp letters later…

{February 23, 2010}   5 Quarters

True Story:  When I was little, I desperately wanted crutches, braces, and eye-glasses, in that order.

Be careful what you wish for.

Crutches: Wow! I had 11 casts on my left ankle and 8 on my right by the time I was at least 21, and several ankle braces since then. I’m not that accident prone. I was a gymnast and athlete for some time, so they tell me.

Once you roll that ankle your are screwed! Just writing that word makes me flinch. There is something called muscle memory, I believe. I am no expert, but I can tell you thinking about hurting my ankle makes it hurt. It’s like nails on a chalk board. I am a believer in the amputee’s phantom arm.

True Story:  In my life I have also broken ribs, my nose, most fingers and toes & my tailbone twice.

I am extremely lucky that I have not broken my neck, which ironically, is the area of this ol’ bag of bones, that requires the most pain management today. (Hence the need for the pill swapping party). I sometimes wonder what the hell it will feel like to be 80, God willing. (We do have some good stock in my family if you don’t party too hard).

True Story:  I use to jump off the roof of our carport as a kid to try to “score” some crutches.

Glasses:  This great desire of mine faded along with the sexy librarian fantasy.

And now we come to BRACES. 3 times baby. Awesome!

True Story:  Apparently, I have a jacked up mouth. Things could be worse.

1st time:  For crooked teeth. What else?

2nd time:  I don’t really know. Something about a small mouth, messed up jaw, blah blah blah… If they didn’t cost so much I would think my Mom just did it for torture.

True Story:  After having them tightened and in dire need of Advil I would tell mom my mouth hurt.

Mom:  Your fine. You have a low pain tolerance.

3rd time:  This time there was an apparatus involved. That’s what it’s called, “an apparatus”. It was a piece of metal that spread across the roof of my mouth. And you have to find a Sadist to stick a key in it and turn it. WTF? How is this not child abuse. It was to widen my jaw. I still don’t know why?

The good news about all of this is that I was about 12. Which means I was at the height of my “really good-looking” phase.

Let me paint this picture for you. I’ll start from the top.

As my aunt would say, I had a puff-ball on my head. This was the mid-late eighties and teasing of the bangs was cool. I had greasy, teenage skin and my lovely, natural nose (a bit wide at the bridge). I was probably wearing some hideous sweater. My Mom liked to buy the discount clothes and this was before Wal-Mart had Hannah Montana lines. And of course, it being 1987, I had on probably 4 different pairs of socks in multiple colors in order to appear fashionable. My feet wouldn’t fit in my shoes but I looked Great!

Now, this apparatus-torture-thingy caused my front two teeth to move apart from each other. Are you getting it folks?

A really sweet fellow from school nicknamed me “5 Quarters”. Naturally, because you could fit 5 quarters between my 2 front teeth.

Love me some middle school.

True Story: I drew the line at jaw surgery.

When I had my wisdom teeth out and was passed out on gas/general anesthesia, the surgeon called my mom back to the operating room to point and laugh at me I guess, and showed her how when totally relaxed, and he put my jaw together, it was still all jacked up.

I woke up in restraints with them telling me they were going to wire my jaw shut for 6 months. I ran screaming! I was about to be a freshman in college. How was I going to go to keggers?

True Story:  That’s the way I remember it.

{February 22, 2010}   Idiot

True Story:  I am an Idiot.

This morning I called one of my real estate clients too early apparently, as he was sleepy and asked if he could call me back.

Me:  Night. Night.

{February 22, 2010}   My First Born

True Story:  When that human baby comes along you kick that dog to the curb.

Don’t get me wrong, Abby Singer is my first-born and I still love her. But where I used to fret over her every move and need, I will now leave her home alone for 2 days and not think twice about it.

True Story:  We left Abby Singer in a parking lot.

One of the first outings out with G Monkey after he was born, we stopped at a restaurant for a late lunch. Excited about putting him in the high-chair all flipped over like you had seen people do for years, we were enjoying our little family date. We go to get back in the car and apparently Abby Singer jumps out while we were strapping the car seat in (a feat that used to take hours to perfect, I now let G Monkey strap himself in).

We go on our merry way. About 45 minutes after we get to our destination, I look at Pump.

Me:  Where’s Abby Singer?

Pump:  I don’t know.

We go back to the restaurant to not only find her in the parking lot, but in our exact parking spot looking left and right for our car.

The point I’m getting at is this: You don’t have to like the way game is played, you just have to understand the rules.

Abby Singer has never “gotten on board” with G Monkey being around, but she gets that he is important to us. And when she feels threatened, she goes to be near him. She figures, if the house is being blown away we WILL grab the kid, and we just might see her and tell her to hop on  in the getaway car with us.

Example: Abby Singer will take on this biggest baddest dog there is. Her little scrappy 13 lbs (15lbs in the winter) will go straight for the jugular; but if a thunderstorm is raging, she is under G monkey’s bed or curled right up beside him, as I found her this early, storming morning.

True Story:  She’s no dummy.

{February 21, 2010}   Stud Muffin

True Story:  My son is a Lay…dees Man.

In his class of 7 at preschool he has 2 girlfriends.

1 friend he “hugs” all the time. The teacher actually asked me to see what I could do about all the hugging.

The second one he sleeps with. Actually sleeps, as in nap time, people. Geez, he’s only 2. They cuddle in the corner of the room together and if one of them is absent or home sick, the other one refuses their nap that day. The teach tried to mix it up and move the kids around, but G Monkey and his girl would have none of it.

True Story:  He is the only one in his class not potty trained.

I don’t want to hear it. As soon as the weather gets warm we’re going diaper-less until we can make it to the potty. I’m not a hypocrite. I’m not going to wear mine either.

So his teacher asks me if we are working on potty training at home. “Sure”, I say.

Teacher:  Well, I try to get him to go potty here at school but he just wants to watch the girls pee and flush for them.

Me:  Well, he is his father’s son.

{February 21, 2010}   Pill Exchange

True Story:  I think us girls should have a pill swapping party.

Now don’t go all crazy. I don’t think we should all sit around and get high on the dope.

My Dear Departed Meme:  Honey, don’t talk to him. He’s taking the marywanna.

I’ve come to realize lately that you may have a need, or mood, or be suffering from something you don’t usually suffer from. You don’t need a full prescription (and that damn doctor won’t give it to you no matter how many times you ask), you just need it that one day.

If we had a pill exchange, similar to a recipe exchange, then we would all have what we needed when we needed it.

Am I genius? I ‘m going to start having these parties and find some way to make money from it like the Tupperware, skin care, jewelry, sex toy party ladies do.

True Story:  I’ve been to more of these parties than I care to admit. I’m a sucker. Give me some wine & cheese and I walk out with sacks full of shit. My closet is full of crazy kinky apparatuses we can’t figure out how to use.

Pump:  Can we use this thing tonight? Please!

Me: I’m not putting that thing on. Fat will squish out everywhere.

Pump:  Why did you buy it?

Me:  Hell if I know. I think it was on sale.

Who’s on board?

{February 19, 2010}   The In-Laws

True Story:  My in-laws are nuttier than yours.

I have 2 father in-laws. One whistles when you talk about anything other than him… What? He’s bored.

The other one doesn’t care either way. Example:

Me:  Can I get you something to drink K?

K:  I don’t care?

Me:   WTF?

My Mother in-law, God love her, deserves her own entire blog/book/documentary. I am so grateful for her. She takes care of my son all the time. He is 2 1/2 and I can count on 1 hand how many times I have paid a babysitter. That being said, Lawd have Mercy, that woman is Nuts!

Off the top of my head:  After 5 husbands she legally changed her last name to a word from the Klingon dictionary (this is the language of Trekkies, BTW) to a word that means, One who endures.

She loves to put temporary tattoos all over my son’s body, particularly on days when I am taking him to preschool at the church.

She loves her son to pieces, would do anything for him, and reminds me everyday what a no-good dirty ashtray he is.

Sidenote:  She told me years ago that he would cheat on me. She was right.

She cusses like a sailor. Her favorite lines are, “That is so GD cute!” Or “That is so expensive”.

As I write this I realize, she’s awesome. Never boring, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

{February 19, 2010}   Caroll

True Story:  I had a 1993 Toyota Carolla named Caroll. That ol ‘ girl was like a sister to me.

I think I mentioned that I was a little wild in my younger daze. If I am remembering this correctly, I was grounded from 8th grade until I graduated high school.

True Story:  My Mom grounded me for a party that occurred while I was out of town.

I went to visit my Dad at the beach for the weekend when I was in High School. My best buds got busted for attending a party while I was gone. When I came home my Mom said, “You’re Grounded”. (Her favorite words)

Me:  What? Why?

Mom:  A & P were at a party this weekend.

Me:  So? I wasn’t there.

Mom:  If you’d have been here, you would have been the Ring Leader (Say this with LOTS of anger). Ring Leader  was another term of endearment I became accustomed to.

So, you can see how the car provided for me when I turned 16, was taken away and sold within 2 months of my birthday.

By the time I was a Senior the need for my younger sisters to have transportation over-rode my continual need to be stranded without a car as punishment, and my Mom bought me a car. That would be Carol.

Carol’s Life:

1.  Right off the bat I decided I better go ahead and put a cigarette burn on her seat, so as not to be upset when it inevitably would happen. This made sense to me at the time.

2.  After a party one night, I decided I better not drive home. So, I asked my really responsible, male friend G to drive me home. He wrecks on the way home, ripping the whole rear bumper off. His parents owned a body shop but would not fix the car.

3.  At a party one night in High School I let a friend borrow it to take someone home, or buy cigarettes. I can’t remember the exact reason. It came back wrecked. Really wrecked, like the whole side panel. My friend had no explanation for this.

Me:  What happened?

A:  What are you talking about?

As far as I know, this issue has never been resolved.

At this point Carol is starting to look really good, or bad. However you want to look at it.

4.  When I went off to the University of Alabama my Mom decided I shouldn’t be allowed to take my car, so Caroll stayed at home for a while.

My Dad let me drive Verbena while I was at school. Verbena is, I should probably say, was, a 1987 red Chevy Blazer with a toothpick keeping the power button on on the radio and not much else working. Verbena is a WHOLE nother blog for another day.

I’ll tell you this much about her now. I got so many parking tickets my freshman year at Alabama they put a boot on Verbena. The school called my dad and wanted some crazy amount of money for the parking tickets to release the boot on the blazer.

My Dad to the man on the phone:  No, what you need Son, is a Title.

He mailed Verbena’s title to the school and that was that.

5.  Eventually my Mom decided to let me have Caroll back. Possibly a mistake, but I had to get around somehow.

My sophomore year at U of A I lived in a house with 4 other girls. On my 20th birthday we decided to have a Kegger. Whoo Hoo! Apparently someone decided to jump on Caroll’s roof and throw the keg on top of her in celebration of my reaching 2 decades old. Now, the poor ol’ girl had a dented roof.

6. While in T-town she also had some practical jokes played on her, or me???

At one point a “friend” tied a feminine hygiene product around her antenna. It rained shortly there after, causing the “product” to expand into a lovely white flag.

Another “really good friend” put a dead bird under the driver’s seat. I believe I mentioned that I can’t smell, right? You guessed it, I didn’t know it was there until my friend Z got in the car one day and had to ride with his head hanging out the window.

True Story:  I went to Montana for 3 months and stayed 6 years.

7.  My best bud was going out to Big Sky, MT, for the summer with her boyfriend. I decided this was something I should do as well.

She went to Ole Miss and suggested I come meet them there in Oxford. Made sense to me. So, I drove to Oxford, MS, parked Caroll in the parking lot of a very nice apartment complex and jumped in my friend’s car to head to Montana.

Well, as the end of summer rolled around, I decided to stay in Big Sky. It felt more like “home” at that point. I didn’t really think much about Caroll baking in the Mississippi sun so far away.

I guess about 6 months after I was gone, someone called my Mom to see what we were going to do about this Carolla sitting in the parking lot in Oxford. Poor girl, the already fabulous paint job was now faded and chipped.

8.  She made at least 10 trips from Montana to Alabama and back over the 6 years I was there.

9.  She was pulled out of countless snowbanks and drove me to and from Montana State University and my bartending jobs in Big Sky when I lived on no sleep, diet cokes and cigarettes.

10.  When I graduated from college I sold her to my boyfriend, Pump, for $1,000. My Mom was giving me her Miata for graduation when I got home. Will she never learn???

11.  After Montana came California and a short stint in North Dakota, where through tears Pump and I sold her to a 16-year-old for $800. She had about a 1000 miles on her and a lot of memories.

True Story:   I bet she’s still out there running up and down the roads. This might be her…

{February 19, 2010}   Pills & Alcohol

True Story:  You never know what life lessons will stay with you forever.

When I was a teenager I liked to have a good time. I’m not condoning it, just admitting it.  I think I turned out alright. I’m going to go with the big picture school of thought here, and say I am more than the sum of my parts.

Anywho, My best bud and I in high school would occasionally have hangovers. Now back then of course, they would be gone by mid morning. Nothing like the horrible beasts that attack your brain on Saturday mornings as an adult.

Well, her father was a doctor and we discovered where he kept sample meds at home. We figured out that if we took one of these, I think they were called Darvocets, on Saturday morning, we didn’t have a hangover any more.

A few months later we were down at the beach one weekend, riding in the car with my Aunt. Everyone was hungover, adults included. My Dad had married his 3rd wife the night before and we were piled in the car headed out for some grease. My friend and I mentioned to my aunt that we wish we had one of those “samples” to cure our hangover.

My Aunt:  I had a friend that took a pill and drank once…. Still drags a leg….

To this day, my friend and I are scared to take a Tylenol when we have a hangover.

et cetera