True Story: I have been avoiding BP way before your Momma met your Poppa.

Since recent events in our precious Gulf of Mexico have sent BP oil spewing  all over the place, I am flooded with nightmares of my nemesis who works at the Money Back BP Station in Orange Beach, AL.

True Story:  Unfortunately, the meanest of all Meanies works at the closest gas station to my house. Therefore, I can’t shop at this gas station now for 2 reasons: 1) BP Corporation is a Liar Liar Pants on Fire, and 2) A sad man who hates human beings works the cash register on the afternoon/evening shift.

This really irks me that I can’t shop here, because it is a nice clean store with a great wine selection for a stop n shop. This would normally be where I would stop for a bottle of wine on the way home from work (Not EVERYDAY… Geez). But now, I have to search for a parking spot and walk my tired ass into a REAL grocery store in order to avoid the jerks (BP & Meany).

Latest 3 Examples of Meany’s bad behavior:

1)  I was checking out with Meany when a sweet, older man walked in the store behind me.

Older Man:  Excuse me sir, I can’t get Pump # 3 to work? Could you help me?

Meany:  I’ll be with you in a minute… And if your bad attitude continues, you can purchase gas somewhere else.

Older man:  Speechless

Me:  (Mouthing) WTF???

2)  I stop on the way home one evening for a bottle of wine to accompany our dinner. I put it on the counter in front of Meany.

Meany:  I need to see your ID.

Me:  No Problem. (Hey I’m pushy 35, can you say compliment)?

Meany:  It’s not my problem.

Me:  Okay…

He studies the ID for a good 90 seconds. He apparently wants the goods and services to leave the Money Back BP only under mandatory circumstances.

Meany:  Your ID expires in November.

It’s like March maybe.

Me:  Okay.

I’m now toe-tapping to get my ID back, pay the man and get the hell out of creepy store.

Meany:  (Raising his voice) I have to check this.

Me:  (Lighthearted) Oh I know, I don’t care.

Meany:  I don’t care either… I DON’T CARE IF YOU EVER COME BACK IN HERE AGAIN.

Me:  (Staring into his hateful eyes) Dude. You hate yourself.

I ran out the door.

3)  I stopped by the Money Back BP around 2pm one afternoon thinking it was too early in the day for Meany’s shift to start… Wrong. I walked in, locked eyes with him… Threw my hands in the air, swore and stomped out.

True Story:  I complained to his manager one morning. She told me to really piss him off… I should buy about $200 worth of stuff and put it on the counter and that would really “stick it to him”.

Good Idea lady. She clearly has no plans to fire him, so I have no plans to shop there.

True Story:  The Road to hell is paved with good intentions.

My best bud and I had BIG Mother’s Day plans. We were gonna do NUTHIN.

We were going to lay around in the sun, drink some cold ones, and watch our kids play. Yes, you read correctly, beer and children, we occasionally mix them. Our men agreed (sort of) to cook and cater to us. 

Well… They began “discussing” the ribs they were going to grill us first thing in the morning…  Along with chicken wings, potato skins, salad, bread and more. Around 11am I saw them working with the meat and getting the grill going.

True Story:  We ate at 8pm. 9 hours later.

Of course, they ended up having a grill off (sword fight) over who’s ribs were going to be better. The best part? 3 men somehow managed to walk away from the grill for the last “15 critical minutes” and $100 worth of ribs were burned… Charred. Do you think beer was involved?

True Story: I had to take a nap at 5 pm because I was starved and dehydrated from having to drink beer in the sun with no food… When I woke up, the meal still wasn’t ready. Pa-leeze. Do women have to do everything???

In other news, I found a Mother’s Day “report card” that I gave my Mom circa 1982:

Cooks for me:  A+

Washes Dishes:  B

Keeps house clean:  C+  (Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree)

Fixes my clothes:  A   (What?!?!  I haven’t seen a needle and thread in that women’s hand in 34 years).

Gives me Money:  B   (Still room for improvement here).

Takes me places:  A

Let’s me go visiting:  A

Helps me with my homework:  B+

Listens to me read:  C  (Oh well, at least we have spellcheck now)

Plays with me:  A   (I don’t know about this one Mom)

Speaks kindly to me:  B   (Hmmm… More room for improvement. Not sure this is a fair question for the teachers to pose)

Takes me to church:  A+   (Yes Ma’am. You going to get your a_ _ up and get to church.)

Listens to me when I talk to her:  A-   (This actually worked to our advantage. We always knew to ask Mom for things we wanted to have or do when  she was on the phone, or reading or paying bills. You always got a “Uh, huh”… YES!)

I wrote a note on the report card:

Dear Mom,

I’d like to write a thank you note. I know it’s not too nice. But all that I could think to say is thanks!

Love, Ashley 

True Story:  Note to Mom:  C-

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…