True Story

{February 29, 2012}   The Past

True Story:  We think about it a lot don’t we?

My horoscope said recently that because some planet moved into some house of mine, people and events from the past would start to reappear. Hmm. Interesting, or not? Let’s move on planets. I’m done living in the past.

In a matter of days this is how my past haunted me:

1)  I heard about the passing of a friend from another part of my life that shared my first name.

2)  An ailment in my body I thought was cured re-appeared.

3)  I reconnected with some old buddies. LOVE when that happens, like no time has ever passed between us.

4)  My 4.5 year old pooped his pants. Really? I thought we were done with that phase of his life. You aren’t supposed to do that again until the end right?

5)  I went to a Film Festival that Prairie Love attended and won last year. Stop living in the past Ashley. That was so 2011. Time to make another movie!

6)  Interesting moment from the past this last week. A friend that works at a restaurant needed to call me to get the Vampire’s Number. She had apparently left the restaurant forgetting to pay her tab and the only person my friend could think of that had her number was me. Ha! I found the number. Glad to be of help.

7)  I heard new stories of other indiscretions and disrespectful behavior by my ex-husband while we were married.

There are many ways to approach this subject.

Honestly, Ex-Pump and I should teach a class on how to be divorced. A lot of the reason we can still work together and jointly share pleasant custody of our son is my refusal to stay angry. I’m not being a martyr here, anger will eat you alive.

First of all, I am not going to raise my son in a heavy atmosphere. That is MISERABLE on the little ankle biters.

Secondly, it’s just not fun to be pissed all the time. It sucks. I see people that are mad all the time and I think you are drinking the poison. You! You are pouring it down your throat and everybody else has moved on.

Don’t think I don’t have to give this speech to myself sometimes. I believe that you are not responsible for how something makes you feel, but you are responsible for how you react to that feeling. Events and situations with other humans have to be given their proper amount of emotion from you, and then set aside.

I’ve always been the kind of person that would walk around and kick and scream for a while and get real mad, then, I am ready to move on pretty much in a matter of minutes. Remember the scene in Witches of Eastwick when Daryl (Devil) is ironing his own clothes and stomps around high kicking? That is me for about 20 minutes, then it’s over.

In a lot of these cases we are really just mad at ourselves, right? Why did I allow such ridiculousness in my life? Why do I not respect myself more? Why am I such a f*ck up?

That last part might just be me.

Warning:  You have to have some space from the issue to get that perspective, like I don’t know, 2 years. Don’t expect people not to stomp around like Daryl once a day for a while after an unfortunate event takes place in their life.

For example, something recently happened in my work life that I am still stomping around about. Not enough distance yet, I suppose. It felt like someone I trusted said, I like you but you’re just not good enough. For a couple of days I wanted to go outside and shoot 2 middle fingers at the sky and everyone that I saw. I got pleasure in people cutting me off in traffic and let 14 people skip in front of me at the grocery store when I was in a hurry. Why not? That’s what I’m here for people. Go ahead, just wipe your feet right there on my back.

But, this too shall pass, and if I think hard enough about it there is a lesson there for me, damn it. This learn from your mistakes business is really starting to piss me off.

Least favorite things from the Past:

a. Someone reminds you of something you did while intoxicated.

b. Pictures of you fat as a cow that resurface. Like the ones people insist on taking in the hospital 10 minutes after your baby was removed from your body.

c. Awkward grocery store run ins with people from the past you no longer associate with.

Me:  Hi

Them:  Hi

Me:  You still uh… work at uh…

Them:  Yep.

Me:  Alright, good to see ya.

Them:  Yep, you too.

d. Food you ate in the past that resurfaces.

e. Past Boyfriends you see that make you say WTF was I thinking.

f. Clothes from the past that no longer fit.

And Finally:

g. Money from the past no longer in your bank account.

True Story:  A drunk girl from High School I ran into once said to me, ” Move on Bitch”. At the time I thought she was a b*tch, but now I think she’s right. (PS: That particular story from the past will resurface another time).

I read somewhere:  The past is exactly that. Send it on down the river. Tie it up in a pretty package and ribbon if you must, but send it on.

True Story:  Whew! Glad that’s over with.

{January 24, 2012}   Fat Girls


True Story:  I have recently been thinking about the battle of the bulge.

Who am I kidding? It is constantly on my mind. I am so sick of thinking about my weight.  I know you ladies out there think about yours too all the time, right?

Well, now that I’ve really decided to do something about it, ironically, I don’t have to think about it all the time. I have adopted some new ways of doing things and that is all there is to it. I don’t have to think, “oh I shouldn’t eat that because I was bad yesterday”. With my new diet, I just know what I am eating. So far so good. I’ll keep you posted.

I have come to understand that exercise is great, but if you want your body to be smaller, you have to change the way you eat. For years, I was like well, I’ll just work out. That didn’t work out. Pun intended.

Where the problems started: 

Eating #1. Did I really have to write that?

I love food. I love a good meal, but I am not addicted to food. I do not emotionally eat. You will not see me with a pint of ice cream at the end of a bad/good day. Unfortunately, I enjoy the liquids more for emotional consoling.

My generation and older are taught to eat 3 squares a day and to be President of the “clean plate club”. Now we know that is not the best way to eat, but I still find myself telling my son to finish his supper. It is usually the good for him stuff he doesn’t want though.

I think y’all know by now I am not a blamer. I take full responsibility for most of my faults. I put my big girl panties on and deal with stuff.

True Side Story:  I was telling a group of people the other day how I fall down a lot, and one of my friends said, “yeah, but you get up like a big girl”. 

So what I am saying here is that I am not blaming society, Twiggy, or teenage bullying on my weight/body image problem, but I do think those things play a role in it.

Exhibit A at the top of the page: a picture of me in a bikini at age 15. I’m the one in the middle.

Which one of us wouldn’t want that figure? Well, the young lady in that picture thought she was FAT FAT FAT.

Not initially, but after I was told repeatedly that I was fat, I decided it was so.

Sure, girls are going to tease me, especially the flat-chested ones. Even family members had issues with my figure, telling me my butt was big, etc. It does stick out. Had I thought to take care of it, it might be worth a million bucks like JLo’s today. Naaaa, her’s is a priceless work of art.

I understand parents being concerned with a voluptuous figure on a young girl. But I did not flaunt it. The truth is, in high school we wore boys jeans and button down shirts. Rugby shirts were in style. Remember those? I wouldn’t have been allowed to wear skimpy stuff if I wanted to. But I have cleavage in a turtle neck, so sometimes there is really nothing I can do about it.

My dance instructor told me I was thick. I’ve never cared for that word. Boys teased, as they do. Point I’m getting at here is that it is inevitable in this society that at some point, a girl will stand in front of a mirror hating her body.

I’m not going to preach that you shouldn’t do it. You all know that. And I am not going to try to have that girl in the picture’s figure either. Let’s face it, 15 is a whole nother ball game. No, I just wanted to share more lady problems with you, and tell you I am going to wear a bikini for the 1st time in many, many moons this summer. Just making myself accountable again.

What happened in the 20 years since that photo you ask?

Nothing extraordinary. A pound or two a year is 20 plus pounds. You do the math.

In the spirit of Awards Show Season let’s look at some of the silly things celebrities say about how they stay in shape:

1) I once read in a magazine about a starlit who said she lost all her weight because “she broke up with cheese”.

Really? That’s it? You just stopped eating cheese? Are you sure you don’t have a personal trainer too?

2) “I’ll consider plastic surgery when the time comes”.

Translation:  I have been getting botox for 10 years. A face lift is right around the corner.

3) “I keep the weight off by snacking all day long”.

On what? Lettuce?

For once, will one of those wee, tiny, baby celebs say the truth when asked how they keep their figures.

My PR advice for an answer:

Well, it starts with genetics. Let’s face it, I hit the jack pot there. And remember, I am only 24. Then I work out 14 times a week with my trainer, run 5 miles, and go to yoga after that. When I eat it is high quality, organic very expensive delivered meals, and any time I see anything sticking out or dimpling in, I get to the nearest med spa and fix that sh*t.

True Story:  Would that not be refreshing???

True Story:  I have been a bad, bad girl.

I have not been blogging like I should. But I have been writing. I’ve been working and editing a new script with Ex-Pump, selling real estate, and working on getting everything the distributor for Prairie Love needs. We are available on Video on Demand this month. Very exciting. Rent it!

Also, been doing lots O Mommy. The Monkey has been out of school for a year and a half (seems like). How come when I was a kid winter break was like a week. His Daddy went to the North Pole for Christmas, so it has just been me and the Monkey. Good thing it was nice and warm during the holidays. We went to the beach, park or indoor pool almost every afternoon.

There you have it:  My excuses for not posting blogs lately. Otherwise know as bullsh*t. A writer writes Damn it. Excuse me for a minute while I go in the closet and whip myself ala’ priest in the Scarlet Letter style.

I also posted today to tell you I will not be blog posting over the next few days. This is planned laziness.

I will be in Nawlinz roaming the streets horse from yelling Roll Tide!

If you live under a rock, or just purposessly know nothing about Sports, you might not know that LSU and Alabama are meeting up Monday night in New Orleans for REMATCH, the SEQUEL, Part DEAUX.

Well, I am headed over there as we speak. My suitcase holds the following:

Saint’s jersey, layers of obnoxious Alabama parqaphanelia, and a tiny, over the shoulder purse to hold money, phone & ID.

My liver is rested, and I lost 3 lbs, so I can eat well… Oh who am I kidding,  I’m going to be eating cart food. There is not a seat left in the house nor a room at the inn people… REMATCH ROLL TIDE!.

I have been an Alabama fan my whole life. My step dad took me to the games. I had heard of Auburn but all I knew of was Alabama football.

When I entered the University of Alabama as a student in 1994 they were still high on the 1992 chanpionship they had wom under Coach Gene Stallings. It was awesome. 

Then, came the “probabtion years”. Not cool. I don’t know how that happened? College Football is as pure as the driven snow.

Old friends have said the last few years, I didn’t know you were such a strong Alabama fan?

Answer: Always have been. I remember getting in a fight in the lunchroom in school over who was better Alabama or Auburn. I didn’t really know what a football play was, who the players were, or even the Coach’s name, but I knew you were a dumbass if you weren’t for Alabama. You see people, this is how we raise ’em down here.

The probabtion years were tough, and I lived out of the south 8 years. But now that I am back, and we happen to have an awesome team, I’m a huge fan. Come on, it’s fun to win.

Here’s the real joke.

My son should be a Bama fan by birth. There is only 1 Auburn fan in my family, my brother in law. G Monkey doesn’t see him all that much so I don’t think it is his influence that is steering my son to the dark side.

True Story: His preschool had an IRON BOWL DAY.

They had a pep rally and put the kids in a section of the auditorium according to clothes they were wearing. Of course I dressed my son in an ALBAMA sweatshirt.

I was dumbfounded to find out that he had pitched a fit and the teachers had to take him out of class to find out what was wrong.

Apparently, “He pulls for AUBURN”. That’s what he told them. He was so upsaet he had  to disrupt the entire program and be replaced under the AUBURN banner at school.

Clearly, someone in his family is doing me a dis-service. I’m not naming names, his father & grandmother, but someone is sending my kid down the wrong path, and it has to be stopped.

Exibit A, he was given an AUBURN shirt and hat for Christmas this year.

Excuse me! You people are from the North Dakota, why are you participating in our SEC battle?!?! It is hard not to take it personally.

True Story: G Monkey lives in Orange Beach, Auburn.

Leaving the library the other day I asked the Monkey where he lived. He said, “Orange Beach, Auburn”.

Me:  Alright, that’s ENOUGH. No Sir, you do not. You live in Orange Beach, ALabama. Auburn is not a state. it is a stupid school and town. Get with the program kid.

True Story:  I got Auburn Legacy too.

My 2nd cousin was the quarter back during AUBURN’S 1957 National Championship. Last year he got to carry the crystal football to the 50 yard line when Auburn (Cam) won. 

If Alabama wins Monday night I get to tell G Monkey that the great state of Auburn has won the BCS Championship 3 years in a row.

{December 29, 2011}   Shake it up

True Story:  A change is going to come.

I guess I’m having a mid-life crisis, or I have been having one. You know how you don’t know you are in a recession until you’ve been in it 12 months? And then, after that period comes a period of denial about the recession?

Well, one little phone call the other day set off a chain of thoughts about what I already suspected about myself, something’s got to give.

The Doctor’s office called with some lab work.

Nurse:  Hey Ashley, got your labs back. Your blood sugar and cholesterol are high, so doctor’s prescribing this many milligrams of… Blah…Blah…

Me:  Wait, what? Can I come in and talk to her? I’m 36. I’m not just going to start taking cholesterol medicine. Do I have diabetes?

Nurse:  Uh, I’m not sure… Um, we can make you an appointment.

Me:  What about my thyroid?

Nurse:  This one is for… cholesterol I think, maybe your thyroid… Let’s get you in here to talk to her.

Me:  Yeah, let’s do that.

Here’s the thing. I am a fan of the pill… The tablet, the capsule, even the liquid. I am famous for carrying around a huge bag of medicine in my purse for anything that might ail someone. I don’t believe in “symptoms”. I think if there is something causing a symptom I might have something in my purse to fix it.

That being said I’m not just going to take a pill for a little elevated cholesterol without giving some lifestyle changes a shot.

So, I started thinking about my 2012 goals. The usual lose weight, came to mind, work harder, yada, yada… Didn’t seem to be cutting it. I need more change!

One thing I’ve learned the last 2 years, well, really, 36 years, is things are going to change anyway, whether I want them to or not. Some changes are outside influences beyond my control, and others internally bursting out of me. I might as well take control of some of them.

True Story:  Shocker! My kidneys and liver lab work were perfect. Got a gold star.

I know. I know. Something is wrong at Lab Corp. They must have swapped my blood viles. With the amount of wine I digest there is no way those organs got a gold star.

I have mentioned before that I am famous at NYE for saying, “This is my year”. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean it is not other people’s years, as well. I delight in the success and happiness of others. Acceptance speeches, happy facebook posts, and good news announcements from others make me swell with pride.

I am just eternally optimistic to a fault, when it comes to my own life. I believe there is nothing I can’t beat. And in my adult life, from college on, it has been an uphill battle to make it happen. I keep thinking the next year is it… Okay, maybe the one after that.

What is it I have been trying to achieve?

Well, financial security for one.

My working history consists of many more hours of work involved than payment. (True Dat you all say). Part of that is 1 of my full-time jobs I have worked very hard at for over 10 years and longer, if you include college, is a job I don’t get paid for, YET. 

Filmmaking & Writing. There has been small pay here and there over the years, but I can’t quit my day job, know what I’m saying? (say that like a lady at the grocery store that elbows you and talks out the side of her mouth).

I have maintained a successful real estate business over the years, with the exception of some income stopping hurricanes, real estate busts, economic recessions and oil spills… Wait, let me re-think the 1st part of this sentence.

2012 goals:  Completed non-fiction book, 2 movies in the can & a successful real estate business. Whew! I better get started.

Health:  I am not 21 anymore. I am learning to accept this.

True Story:  I need someone to walk around with an umbrella over my head reminding me of good choices and bad.

In the past, the devil on my shoulder has usually won.

Some of my Famous Bad Choices in the past:

1) Sure, I’ll have one more.

2) Hey ya’ll, watch this…

3) Tomorrow is Day 1 of the new diet/work out program/healthy lifestyle.

So 2012 Health Goals:

1) Stop eating so many things with faces.

I’m sorry. I’m a carnivore. I was raised in the South. I like a good “meat & 3”. (Non-southerners, that is 1 meat, 3 vegetables, a glass of ice tea and cornbread).

2) Pizza only once a week. That’s going to hurt.

3) No alcohol in the House.

4) Stop about 5,000 other bad habits.

True Story:  I have now made myself accountable.

I do believe we are in a transition as a society and planet, as arguably, we have always been. I know 2012 is bigger than me and my little changes, but believe you me, a change gonna come.

{November 11, 2011}   Shoes & Dating

True Story:  Can a girl really have 2 stories about shoes and 2 stories about dating that are necessary to share?

In my world, yes.

Shoes #1:

So you know I have been traveling a lot this last year. Well, I got this sh*t down now. I mean a good traveler is like an artist. I’m always jealous of those perfect travelers that just have like a back pack with them when they check in at the airport. How do they do that?

I used to travel like Kim Kardashian, 16 bags and all. Except they were from Target instead of Louis Vuitton.

I finally realized I didn’t need all that crap and got it down to one bag.

This last trip I bought nothing. I mean nothing, except 2 lottery tickets and a pair of cheap sunglasses because I had left mine at home. In fact, I’m pretty sure I lost some things while away. YET, yet, when packing to leave I could not fit all of my stuff in my suitcase.

After sitting on the bag 3 times to zip it, I still found crap lying around the hotel room. Really? How does this happen.?

True Story:  I had to use a gift bag to carry 2 pairs of shoes through the airport to get home. Sometimes I just piss myself right the you know what off.

Shoes #2:  While sitting in a dark movie theater with 2 friends a very interesting thing occurred.

My male friend was sitting between myself an another female friend. He reaches down and pulls something out of his shoe. He hands it to me and says, “what is this?” 

I take the “string” from him and try to figure out what it is in the dark. I whisper, “It appears to be some sort of string.”

Male friend:  It’s been in my shoe all day, driving me nuts.

My female friend on the other side of him grabs it and goes, “That’s my bra strap.”

AH Hahahahahaha.

That’s what I wanted to do. But because I am in a dark/quiet theater, I had to suppress my uncontrollable laughter.

Okay, this thrills me to no end. Because, come on? That is some good stuff. Pure awesomeness for someone like me that loves incidences like this.

On the other hand, I was green with envy. I mean, really? Who can snap off a fancy bra strap and have it land in a guy’s shoe? I so wish I could do that.

I have to have a team of professionals come in and un-strap my over-the-shoulder boulder holders. I don’t even know if the 4 inch straps that hold my goods up are even able to detach from the main rig.

Man, that’s some hot stuff.

True Story:  2 things of importance to note here.

1) Ladies, pay attention. If you can learn this trick you won’t have to leave an earring behind, or in desperate measures sometimes, your phone or driver’s licence to get a guy to call you again.

2)  My friend had showered, changed clothes and socks since the bra strap had landed in his shoe. Oh, I hope I never forget this story, even when I’m like 8O.

Dating… Online Dating to be specific.

True Story: I’m done.

I do have to be honest with you and tell you, that  I didn’t try very hard, and was extremely picky. But here are 2 reasons I am through with this business.

1) The only guy I met in person was an idiot, and the date lasted 21 minutes. I met him at a local establishment for an after work drink. Within 20 minutes of meeting him he asked me if I was on birth control.

Is there anything else to discuss here?

2) I met a guy on and started chatting. He was funny. It was going well. I gave him my phone number and we began talking/texting. A few days later my phone rings with a local number I don’t recognize. This usually means a real estate call. So I answered.

Me:  Hello, this is Ashley.

Woman:  Hi, my name is Tracy… Um, this is awkward, but why have you been texting my boyfriend Chris?

Me:  Oh, well, I have a very good answer for you Tracy. Because I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.

Tracy:  Well, how did it happen?

Me:  How did what happen? Nothing happened. Look, I’m really sorry about this. I have never met him in person. We were just chatting. Again, real sorry. I will not be speaking to him anymore.

Tracy:  But can you tell me what’s going on? I mean, I am so confused. I just don’t know what is happening.

Really? Now I am a couple’s counselor?

Me: I’m sorry. I really can’t help you. You two need to work this out. Okay, got to go now. Good luck. Bye now…

Tracy:  Wait, wait… I just need to understand.

Me:  Okay, good luck. Bye now.

I hung up.

True Story:  This is some bullsh*t.

{November 2, 2011}   Monkey Lately

True Story:  It’s like Chelsea Lately but PG 13.

My son didn’t say a word until well into 2 years of age. We were concerned for a while. Not anymore. He is a total social butterfly now, and will walk up to any kid or grown up and say whatever is on his mind. 

He is still not one of those kids that is constantly chattering though. He will be quiet and thoughtful for hours at a time in a car ride. It’s quite lovely actually.

Lately when he says something or discusses something it has been insanely amusing for myself and others close to him. He’s just been brilliant lately, if I do say so myself. I try to write them all down to share, as I assume we all love that “kid’s say the darndest things.” The following are just a few off the top of my head.

1) He picked out the best Pumpkin in the whole world the other day at the pumpkin patch. Well, that’s what he said. I didn’t think it was all that great, but I see nothing wrong with a beauty is in the eye of the beholder lesson.

He does not want to cut him open and he named him “Charles Jack-o-lantern Anna”. The pumpkin is male by the way. He gave him his personal first name of Charles. Not sure about the last name other than he goes to school with a lot of double-named, southern young ladies.

He held the pumpkin in his lap all the way home, and I over heard him say, “I love you Charles Jack-o-lantern Anna.”

2) Speaking of nicknames, G Monkey has begun nick-naming everything. It is to the point now that, when handed off between his father and grandparents and I, we need a glossary.

Chocolate milk = Sta

Water = Umbrella

Pop Tarts = R’s

Mommy = Moe

Famous = Enie

Daddy – Drode

Grilled Cheese = Grilled Abby Singer (that’s our dog, the Demanding Paw)

Ma’am Juli = Wubee

3) He saw a picture of Pink in a magazine with an exposed pregnant belly.

GM:  Mommy, what is that?

Me:  Pink.

GM:  What’s wrong with her?

Me:  She has a baby in her belly.

He grabs his stomach.

GM:  I don’t want a baby in my belly.

Me:  Oh, don’t worry baby, you’re not ever going to have one… You were in my belly though, before you were born.

He considers this.

GM: I’m too big now to fit through your mouth.

Me:  Yes. This is true.

A couple of weeks later he said out of the blue, “Mommy, I don’t like Pink.”

True Story:  Hello, my name is Ashley, and my son eats his boogers.

4) I have tried everything. Taking away privileges, explaining to him that it is gross and he will get sick. He just won’t stop.

The other night lying in bed we were reading his favorite book. He picked a booger. I closed the book.

Me:  Son, I am not going to read with you if you don’t stop eating boogers.

G Monkey held his hand out to me, and looked so confused by my problem with his habit.

GM:  But, Mommy, don’t you want just one bite?

I laughed very hard at his earnestness.

Today I caught him in the rearview mirror picking and eating. I said, “Son, please stop eating boogers. It is disgusting.”

GM:  But I can’t Mommy. I have to do it. I will never stop.

After a moment…

GM:  Can I have one teeny tiny bite please?

Well, at least it’s not drugs.

True Story:  G Monkey has my back.

5) Last time GM and I were at my Mom’s house it was suppressingly hot out and I had mistakenly taking the monkey and my nephew to a park. We lasted about 4 minutes at the park and were about to die of heat stroke. I got them something to drink and headed back to my Mom’s house. Mom had recently moved to a new house and had it all sheened out for a party she was hosting.

After the park, the boys were leaning on the back door as I fumbled with the key. They were hot and exhausted. When the lock clicked open they fell into the door, which subsequently slammed into the wall of the new house and made a nice door knob size hole in the wall.

Me:  Oh no.

GM:  What Mommy? What is it?

Me:  We’re in trouble. We made a hole in the wall.

Nephew:  Who did it? Who is in trouble?

Me:  Me.

GM:  No Mommy. It’s fine. Look, I’ll just put my hand over it and cover it up. See, nobody is in trouble.

He stood there with his sweet little hand covering the hole.

Me:  Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. You can go play.

An hour and half later my Mom walks in the door. Immediately, G Monkey stops what he’s doing and runs to the hole in the wall and stands there with his hand over it. It was so sweet and cute, I had to go ahead and rat myself out so he could go back to playing.

True Story:  My nephew was planning on throwing me under the bus.

One final Monkey Moment.

Whenever we are out of any of G Monkey’s necessities (R’s, Sta, etc…) I will say, “we need to go to the store and get you some more.”

True Story:  G Monkey calls any adult beverage beer.

He was throwing something in the garbage can the other day and saw an empty wine bottle.

GM:  Mommy, you are out of your beer. We need to go to the store. You NEED it.

Me:  It’s okay Son. I’ll get some next time.

GM:  No Mommy, you NEED it.

True Story:  How does he know?

{October 24, 2011}   Disney World – The Final Word

True Story:  I forgot the most important part.

Driving home I asked G Monkey what his FAVORITE part about Disney World was.

GM:  Playing with leaves.

Me:  Awesome. We got leaves at the house.

True Story:  Santa’s gathering a pile of leaves for Christmas.

{October 21, 2011}   Disney World

True Story:  G Monkey took his first trip to Disney World.

In no particular order:

1) I broke 2 toes.

Now as the mother of a 40 pound 4-year-old boy I walk around daily with separated ribs, a broken nose, and many other injuries.

The toes were attacked by furniture.

There was an oddly placed chair in the living room of our condo that wanted a piece of me. I broke 2 toes on it very soon after arriving. Then bumped the other foot, my knee and my hip. Dad moved it after that. 

2) It took the Monkey until his last day in his last 30 minutes in one of the parks to walk up to a character by himself and ask for an autograph. That would be miss Minnie Mouse.

The first character we tried, Goofy, who is one of his favorites, he had a small melt down. When we finally made it to the top of the autograph line he had chocolate all over him from a power bar and I had to let several people go in front of us while I cleaned him up.

Then, once clean, it is our turn again. Now he has the last half of the power bar in his mouth and refuses to swallow. He just won’t budge and won’t swallow. I just about lost my mind. I had been waiting in this line for at least 30 minutes, sweating, and now he has chocolate soup seeping out of his mouth. Not only is this gross but it makes it difficult to understand what he wants when he just stomps and points.

Then, he finally swallows the food, but sits on the ground and points for me to go get the autograph, which I do.

THEN, after getting out of line, he decides he could maybe hug Goofy if I was holding him.

I thought they were going to call security on us.

So, you can imagine by the last day it was the sweetest thing to hear him say, “Excuse me Minnie Mouse, could I have your autograph please”. I was going to kick her ass if she was mean to him.

No need. Minnie’s a sweetheart.

One thing that led up to the more assertiveness with the characters on G Monkey’s part, was a breakfast that he and I had with Mickey, Pluto, Lilo and Stich.

2 observations here:

a) I realize they probably have about 50 “cast members” that play each character. They would have to to have them in so many locations and give them all pee and smoke breaks. But I would think they would have someone with a little more giddy-up playing Pluto. He’s a dog for God’s sake. He may even be a puppy. This “Pluto” that came to our table was dragging a leg. He might have been as old as Walt Disney himself.

b) Stitch kissed Mommy on the head and squeezed my shoulders just a few hundred times too many for this Momma.

3) At the end of one very long day as we road back to the parking lot on the ferry boat the Monkey began to whine. We were all very tired and our dogs were barking and the last thing we wanted to hear was, “I don’t waaaaant to go home. I don’t waaaaant to do that. Whaaa. Whaaa. Whaaaa.”

So Dad and the Ma’am and I started whining too.

“I waaaant a cocktail.”

“Whaaaa, I want my money back.”

“I want to kick my shoes off and never sweat again. Whaaa. Whaaa. Whaaa.”

If you can’t beat em’, join em’.

4) We stayed off Disney property in a nice timeshare condo that my brother very generously donated. It was 1 mile from Disney World. I repeat 1 mile.

We got lost every single day coming and going. It’s a trap down there.

5) On the 7 hour car trip home G Monkey and I sat in the back of the school bus. This is what we call my Dad’s Tahoe. We were in bucket seats, as you are in a school bus, so it was very hard for me to “hold you” when G Monkey wanted to be held.

The following are excerpts from the conversations that went on between G Monkey and I while I tried to read.

GM:  Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!! Sorry, I just screaming.

Me:  Please don’t scream in the car.

GM:  Aaaahhhhhhh!!! Sorry, I just kidding.

Me:  Practice whistling.

GM:  Mommy, What does “A” plus “T” equal?

Me:  Oh, well that’s easy. It’s “Q”. Everybody knows that.

(This game goes on for at least 2 hours. Him asking me similar algebra questions. He may have dipped into some trig as well.)

Well, he is definitely asking the wrong person as I can not do 3rd grade word problems. I do not know what happens when the train leaves the station.

GM:  Mommy.

Me:  Yes.

GM:  I want to call you Momma.

Me:  Okay. Whatever you want.

True Story:  He has not called me Momma one time yet. I am still waiting.

{September 30, 2011}   Friend or Foe

True Story:  I have been on television several times.

I lived in Los Angeles for a year after I graduated from Film School. STRUGGLING, is an understatement. One time my Mom stepped off the plane at LAX and I was so very happy to see her as I had $1 in my pocket. That was it.

I tell you this so you understand my attempts to make $$$, including a treck into game shows.

True Side Story:  I worked on the 2nd season of the Bachelor as a PA (Production Assistant) in the casting department for a few days. We were all sitting around eating lunch and one of the guys says, “I read that 1 in 4 Americans have been on TV.”

No one believed that claim. Then someone asked how many of us had been on TV. Almost everyone in the room raised their hands. I believe now it is probably more like 1 in 3, if you count YouTube Channels.

I had a social connection to the Producers of the 1st season of the Bachelor. I went to their house for a party when they were editing the first season. You have to understand at this time reality TV consisted of MTV shows only, and they did not know how the show was going to fare. This was a low-key party. We played poker, ate, drank, etc. I sat in these people’s home and ate their food with a total of about 15 people.

Skip to the next season (the one I worked on) about 6 months later, they did not remember ever meeting me. They had new giddy-ups in their steps and asked me if I could pick up dry cleaning. Oh, well. That can happen in Hollywood.

So, here I am broke, going on about 3 job interviews a week, interning at an agency for free, house-sitting in the Hollywood hills for my agent boss, doing an “extra” gig whenever I can get one, and I decided to audition for a few game shows. There was potential money there. More than just the $75-$100 for an extra gig.

True Side Story: I was an extra many times at David E Kelley Studios in Manhattan Beach because they were near where I lived. So I worked on “The Practice” several times.

Being an extra is quite boring and a bit humiliating. You feel a little useless most of the time. definitely bring a book.

That being said, without a doubt, extras are necessary for film and television production. As an audience we would not believe that television stars walk down a pretend courthouse hallway without other people milling around the fake courthouse hallways.

This one time I was on the set of “The Practice” and us extras had to walk back and forth every few seconds behind a courtroom door where on the other side they were filming a court scene.

Dylan McDermott made a speech in the courtroom and stormed out (all scripted). He then stood outside the door quietly with the rest of us so as not to disturb the sound recording in the scene.

After watching us extras walk by a few times each he began walking by with us in the most obnoxious way possible. He would straighten his clothes and grab his briefcase and stomp by all proudly. After a few of these little spectacles I just quit doing my little extra walks and let him make an ass of himself.

He obviously thought making fun of us and showing us how much we really didn’t matter was the appropriate way to behave at his job. I mean if the star of the show could walk by 5 times as “background” with it not being noticed by the camera, we were clearly useless.

The worst part was watching crew members uncomfortably laugh at what he was doing, embarrassed for us, but needing to “support” their star.

I haven’t followed his career much, so not sure where he is today. I hear his famous aunt got him into the business. So I guess he was just born better than I was.

True Story:  I auditioned for Hollywood Squares.

I screwed that one up big time. I forgot to say “For the block” 1 time. Boom. You’re out like that.

So next, I auditioned for this show on the Game Show Network called “Friend or Foe”. Did you ever see it?

Kennedy hosted it. Yes, MTV Kennedy, except for an April Fool’s day episode in which Mark Wahlberg hosted. Why did I not get that episode?

The premise of the game is you are set up with a partner and the 2 of you build up a pot of money by correctly and agreeably answering multiple choice questions together.

THEN, you and your partner go to the “trust box” together. You state to each other why you should be trusted and then, without each other’s knowledge of what the other will do, you push a button with either the word “Friend” or “Foe” on it.

If you both push Friend, you split the pot. If you both push Foe, nobody gets anything. If one person pushes Friend and the other pushes Foe, Foe gets the whole shebang.

Now I have to mention a couple of things here. When you interview for Friend or Foe they ask you if you have done anything “bad”. It is a trick question. They want all the bad “goods” on you they can get. When they introduce you to your partner, and I later found out, the public, they say whether you ever shop lifted, cheated or told a lie. They try to create drama and un-trust between the partners playing, which of course makes for a better game. 

Basically, if you are a good person, or are not a good actor, they do not want you on their show. In my interview they asked me several different “leading” questions that I answered honestly. I caught on quickly, and embellished a little “teenage incident”.

WELL, I mentioned how poor I was right? My partner and I, a nice enough guy, had privately talked that we were splitting the money no matter what. We also gave endearing speeches to win each other over.

We got our pot up to $5,000. $5k would have saved my life then. Hell, it would save my life right now.

Can I borrow five grand?

Anyway, $5k was winning the lottery, but  $2,500 would do just fine. I felt sure that my partner and I would be walking away with $2,500 big ones a piece.

The time came for us to pick a button. The only thing the announcer and Kennedy said about me was that some friends and I use to steal a bunch of stuff. Not exactly the story I told them.

True Side Story:  When the show aired my 9-year-old cousin was in Alabama watching the Game Show Network in her bedroom. She came yelling out to her parents that Ashley was on TV and she had stolen a bunch of stuff.


Drum Roll Please:  I don’t know what happened when it was time to push the button. I don’t know if it was greed, or the fear of the sheer poverty I was experiencing  at the time, that took over me.

I hit the Foe button.

Well, lo and behold, so did my sweet, honest partner.

Lesson here kids?

You get greedy and you’ll end up with a big fat goose egg.

We saw each other out in the parking lot. Conversation went something like this:

“Hey man, no big deal”. “What do you do”? “Oh, well”.

True Story: I sent a tape in to “Deal or no Deal” after only a few episodes had aired. This was before they got gimmicky. At this point they had regular contestants on, as opposed to someone who needed a kidney.

Well, they must have liked the tape. They requested a live video interview with my entire family. We did it. It was some holiday and we all happened to be together.

I never heard from them again.

True Story:  I only open my mouth to change feet.

I am very aware of this fact and therefore do a lot of apologizing and telling myself that God gave us 2 ears and 1 mouth yada yada…

I am still knocked out by some of the things people say to me.

Some reading this may say, “Now Ashley, you’ve got the biggest potty mouth on the planet.”

This is true, and I have even been called “wildly inappropriate.” So this is not the crazy, stupid, gross stuff said late night in bars or on a Sunday afternoon at the FloraBama. These are the fun things that you tell other people about and they think you made it up, or give you the “Elaine Bennis” shove, including a “SHUT UP.”


1) Housekeeper that walked into my house one day:

“Oh look at this. This is going to be fun. I love looking through people’s stuff.”

True Story:  She let Ex-Pump get blamed for a hand-made wine glass he heard HER break.

2) No shocker here.  Men say all kinds of dirty stuff all the time. This one caught me off guard though, because it was a first introduction, and not at 2am. Sitting at a dinner table with a group of people at 7pm one night a friend introduces me to this man who was sitting with us. The following occurred:

Friend: Ashley, this is guy (insert male name here). He’s down from Tuscaloosa.

Me:  Oh hi, nice to meet you. You guys got some great weather this weekend…

Me:  So what do you do in Tuscaloosa?

Guy:  Nice rack.

Me:  Oh… You’re a rack observer. That must be cool… Does it pay well?


3) I received an email from a guy from an internet dating site. The guy’s username was… Are you ready for this?

Lord of Passion and Candles in the Night and your Desire

Again, this was not the subject of his email, but his account username.

More than what kind of freaky dude in a cape is this guy, I am wondering what chicks reply to an email like this? Possibly:

Oh Lord of Passion, you have finally found me. I am the Gatekeeper.

Reminds me of the movie Ghostbusters. I think I should probably get off the computer and try my luck at the bar, or the library, or the post office or something.

True Story:  Speaking of capes. When I was in Orange County, CA earlier this year I passed 2 Super Heros smoking in the parking garage. I looked at them.

Dude in cape #1:  Super Heros need nicotine too.

Me:  Of course they do.

4) I met a woman at a party recently. This is how she introduced herself:

Woman:  Hi, I’m Connie, Lesbian.

Me:  Oh, is that how we are doing it these days. Okay, awesome. Ashley, heterosexual. Nice to meet you.

True Story:  She then told me about a time she was driving after partying and decided she couldn’t drive anymore. So, she pulled over, threw her keys in the woods and went to sleep under the truck. When inevitably a cop came around poking at her, she thought to herself. “Oh, here I go. I’m about to pull crazy”.

PS: I can’t wait to “pull crazy” on someone.

I immediately went inside to tell my friend this story after meeting this woman because I knew what my friend’s answer would be and he didn’t disappoint. 

My Friend:  Oh yeah, I’ve done that.

Hahahaha. It’s the little things that make me smile. 

5) This was not said to me personally, but never the less, needs to be shared with the world.

My sisters pulled up at a Taco Bell drive through some years back and ordered some tacos.

Drive Through Cashier:  Nope. Sorry. Meat Hose is broke.

True Story:  You’re welcome.

et cetera