True Story

{February 19, 2010}   Whispers

True Story:  To the irritation of most people that know me, I CAN NOT whisper.

The truth is I am not much of a gossip and share all my personal secrets. So it doesn’t occur to me to lean in and whisper something. If someone walks in the room that is going through a nasty divorce, I am more likely to ask them how it’s going than to whisper about it.

This pisses Everybody off.


Pump:  That woman has awesome boobs.


True Story:  My only strong sense is touch. I can’t hear, see, smell or taste worth a shit. Hence, I can’t hear your whispering, mumbling, little voice.

It drives my dad crazy that I salt most of his dishes. The only thing I can smell and identify is garlic cooking and an occasional poop. Pump says the only way we can be together is because I can’t smell. Apparently, he has halitosis.

I have known some good smellers in my day. And I will admit I have experienced occasional jealousy of them, but most of the time I am okay with my nonfunctioning nose.

When people say things like, it smells like fluoride in here. I am like, WTF? Who knows what fluoride smells like. My friend, N, once had the smell of chicken soup follow her around for weeks. Fascinating.

I can’t explain why I can’t see, I just can’t. The ophthalmologist hasn’t found a major problem. But I can’t read road signs until I have passed them. I have been prescribed glasses several times over the years but never bought any. Naaa, who needs em.

This leaves touch. I have always heard if you lose a sense the others will strengthen. All I know is my sense of touch is strong. The only thing that will make me turn around and slap somebody is if they poke or tap me. And I LOVE massages.

True Story:  If you want to tell me in the middle of a party that “so and so” has been putting on the LBs, you better write me a note. Otherwise you might hear, “WHAT? WHO’S FAT”?

{February 18, 2010}   Mardi Gras!

True Story:  There are a few Guidelines to a safe, fun & effective Mardi Gras Parade riding experience.

1.  Go Big or go Home

What are we there for if not to dress BIG, throw BIG, shout, hollar, rock n roll and over-indulge. This is the point! Cause it’s all over Ash Wednesday.

2.  Pacing 

Pacing is important since most float riding requires consumption of massive amounts of alcohol.

True Story:  The first year I was in a Mardi Gras krewe I did not have a great understanding of this 2nd rule.

My Krewe rides in 2 parades. One begins at 10am and the other at 1:30pm. This means we have to report to the float at 7:30am. This makes for a very long day of drinking.

The only thing to drink first thing in the morning is clearly vodka. Too early for beer or wine. So, this first year I knew I was in trouble when I went to refill my drink at the end of the FIRST parade and my stash was all gone.

Obviously, our behavior rules were a little looser that first year or I would have surely been kicked out.

True Story:  I was kicked out of Brownies as a child for bad behavior. I have a history. Good thing they didn’t do a background check on me.

Back to my first parade:  So, at the end of this day, somewhere around 4pm I was spotted going tee tee in the bushes by the front door of a local restaurant as Snowbirds (northern retirees who visit us in the winter) were walking in the restaurant for early bird specials.

My other proudest moment this day was after eating in the restaurant and checking out ,my friend picked up my credit card receipt where I, a normally good tipper, had drawn little boxes on the gratuity line instead of a figure of money.

 3.  You can’t have too many throws.

For some reason, this one day out of the whole year, people HAVE to have beads, moon pies, cups, stuffed animals, candy, huggers, and what ever you have or they will die. Literally. Of course, the next day they don’t know what to do with this stuff, but you better have enough to throw. I ran out this year and had to start giving out money.

4.  Imodium

No BS, take one that morning. The “toilet” on the float is for #1 only. If you don’t follow this rule, you will be the one to dump it.

5.  No bitchn!

Put your big girl panties on and refer to rule #1. No one said riding on a float with other drunk women throwing things at screaming people was going to be a “comfortable” experience. If in doubt of whether or not you are bitchn, ask me and I’ll let you know. Whoo! Hoo!

6.  Get a babysitter, Grandma or Father to pick up the kids and care for them until Ash Wednesday.

Refer to rule#1. You can not half-ass Mardi Gras. It’s all or nothing. You will be disappointed after having so much fun the first half of the day to have to be responsible that afternoon/evening. I would also recommend not scheduling any important meeting the next morning.

True Story:  I am sure there are more guidelines that require attention here. But seeing as how today is Ash Wednesday, I’m a little foggy.

Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!

{February 15, 2010}   Romantic Gifts

True Story:  Pump goes to Wally World every year on Christmas Eve for most of my Christmas gifts.

In honor of Valentine’s Day I thought I would tell you a very romantic gesture that Pump has done for me every Christmas since we have been together.

True Story:  I get to open up a new pair of tennis shoes and a sports bra every year.

{February 13, 2010}   The Cinema

True Story:  I LOVE to go to the movies by myself. I really prefer it.

There are folks out there that feel it is “sad” to go by yourself. If I can steal 90 minutes of a day/week/month for me and some popcorn & diet coke, I will. Especially an emotional movie, should not be shared.

True Story:  My favorite local theater has a white & yellow checked tile pattern. My OCD requires me to only step on the yellow tiles or sharks will get me (throw back to a childhood game).

The very Friendly Ticket Lady always laughs when she sees me coming.

Ticket Lady:  Oh, there she is… Following the yellow brick road… The only one who does it!

{February 13, 2010}   Ageing

True Story:  I’m not getting any younger.

I told Pump I thought I wasn’t doing too bad for my age. I’ve seen a lot worse. My crows feet are barely distinguishable.

Pump:  What about this area right here. 

He points to the drooping darkened areas below my eyes.

True Story:  Pump has always been quite honest with me.

Towards the end of my pregnancy with G Monkey I was trying on outfits for dinner out. I thought I was ready to go and was examining my profile in the full length mirror.

Me:  Do I have back fat in this shirt?

Pump:  Well, Ash, you always have a little back fat.

{February 13, 2010}   Thank you Everybody

True Story:  It took me 3 years to write my thank you notes after my wedding.

Ironically, I write about 5 personal notes a day now. WTF???

{February 12, 2010}   The Cat and The Goldfish

True Story:  Andy Andrews taught Pump and I that we are a cat and a goldfish.

Shout out to Andy Andrews! If you don’t know who he is, you should. Google him. 

See, people like to be loved in different ways.

I am a goldfish. You don’t have to pet me or love on me, or even spend a lot of time with me. Just feed me and clean my bowl. I show love with deeds and services and I feel love returned in the same way.

Pump, on the other hand, is a Cat. I don’t have to feed him or pay attention to him. I can leave him home alone for weeks with a big bowl of food and water and the toilet seat up. I just have to love on him and let him rub up against me WHENEVER he wants.

You can see how this has been a problem in the past. Apparently, I am cold as ice.

I once her a comedian put it like this, “I told you I loved you nine years ago. I’ll let you know if anything changes”. This is my attitude.

Pump is of the opposite school of thought. If I haven’t told him I love him in the last hour, he starts to question everything in our world.

Once the Vampire (more on her later) entered our marriage, we were forced to look at these differences in our needs very closely. We now, no pun intended, live in a fish bowl for all to examine our relationship, as most family and friends know about the Vampire.

Currently, I try to be more affectionate and cat like. Literally, I will pass by Pump while in my busy little world, stop and say to myself, “I should rub his arm for a minute or kiss his cheek”.

True Story:  Over-heard conversation last night with Pump on the phone with his Mom.

Pump:  Mom, I got to let you go…. Because… I have to clean the bathroom…. Because…. It’s how I show Ashley that I love her.

Me with a big grin:  Thanks Mr. Andrews. My bathroom was spotless this morning. My heart swells.


*Cat & Goldfish references are from The Noticer, by Andy Andrews

{February 11, 2010}   Amen

True Story:  My sister B has been known to throw a cuss word out during a prayer or blessing.

We like to give B a hard time. She has a touch of innocence in her which makes her a great target for jokes.

When I was about 16, that would make B about 12, our Mother took she, myself, and our younger sister, LM, on a girl’s trip. We went to ride horses in TN and white-water raft.

After a long 4 hour ride into the woods the first day, Mom and LM were too saddle-sore to ride back out the next day. So, B and I had our nice country guide to ourselves who let me smoke, and both B and I cuss. Awesome!

We thought it was real funny to say over and over, “Sombitch”, as loud as we could.

B & I:  Whoo Hoo! Sombitch! Hell yeah, Sombitch!

Later that night, B and I shared a tent. We laughed and freaked each other out about the critters that were going to get us.

Then, as we settled down drifting off to sleep B sits up suddenly and says, “Oh no!” A look of shear alarm on her face.

Me:  What? What is it? A black widow?

B:  Oh no, wait (pronounced way-eet)! I’m going to go to hell.

Me: Why???

B:  I was saying my prayers and at the end I accidently said, Amen! Sombitch!

True Story:  We like to play one-handed Champagne croquet in the mountains. Who do we think we are?

My family members and I like to gather in the woods sometimes and eat, drink and be merry.

One day after a grueling match of one-handed champagne croquet (This is where you have to have a glass of champagne in one hand at all times, and your crochet mallet in the other), we were hungry and a little drunk. 

B had been hitting it pretty hard, the wine that is, and starting to get on “repeat”. This is where she tells us the exact same thing over and over and over, usually when her teeth are a little purple from the red vino. Don’t judge, we’ve all been there.

So we finally sit down to a meal that took probably 8 hours for us to pull together. (This was before we had kids). We all thought it would be funny to have B bless the food.  

A) She doesn’t say it very often and has had enough wine to volunteer; B) She’s on repeat, so this should be a good show; and C) We are mean.

B:   Dear Lord….. Thank….You…. for…. The wooooods, and the fooood…… Dear Lord……Thank … you…..

The rest of us:   Hahahahahahaaa!

B:  Oh, fuck….

{February 9, 2010}   The Pre-nup

True Story:   Pump can get a wild hair sometimes and something totally ridiculous and insane will come out of his mouth. He will fight for that opinion anywhere from 2 hours – 2 days, and then out of the blue change his mind and apologize.

Example 1:  The all fruit diet

True Story:  Pump and I were living in Los Angeles at the time, broke as a joke and fighting constantly over stupid stuff.

We were headed to the movie theater one day. In LA this can take an entire day, the afternoon at a minimum. While stuck in traffic, where many arguments take place, Pump informs me that he is embarking on an “all fruit diet”. Seeing an opportunity to prove him wrong and myself right I say, “That is ridiculous. You have to eat a well balanced diet, just less of it”.

This “discussion” escalates to a fight. Now I don’t “support” him and his decisions. He is choosing a healthier lifestyle and I am not supportive. This goes on for 2 hours until we get to the snack bar of the movie theater. The young man behind the counter looks at us for our order.

Pump: Um, I’ll have nachos, a hot dog all the way, and a large cherry icy. Thanks.

Example 2:   The Pre-nup

True Story:  Pump is famous for ruining “family days”. He usually picks a fight with one of my family members or me.

We live at the beach so when friends and family come in town we usually visit a famous honky tonk or two. Hit the beach, etc… You get it. We have a good time.

One night my sisters, and some friends and Pump and I are at Lulu’s in Gulf Shores, listening to a good band and having a margarita. It’s about a year before Pump and I get married. We are already engaged.

Pump decides things are going to smoothly, and after sitting there thoughtful for awhile, announces to everyone that he wants me to sign a pre-nup.

True Backstory:  Pump has never had a $1 to his name. The joke in the family is that he made one figure this year, when we discuss salaries. I sold him my 1993 Toyota Corolla in college for $1,000. It took him 2 years to pay it off.

Back to Lulu’s:

Me:   Write it up buddy. Half of nothing’s nothing.

{February 9, 2010}   Day 1

True Story:  I start a new diet/workout/health program every Monday.

et cetera