She also wanted to "smoke some of the marijuana."

I only have one grandparent still living, and her name is Nana. Yes, Nana. If you’ve just met her, she will tell you to call her Nana. If you call her anything resembling a formal name she will tell you to, “Shut the hell up!”

My love for Nana is a strange and strong thing. It is part admiration, part incredulousness, but mostly just pure love. She was the fun grandparent; taking me to IHOP with my best friend and letting us build castles out of the creamers, then throw jelly packets at them. She had this giant white afro (yes, she’s of the Caucasian persuasion) that she kept perfectly round. My sister and I loved to pretend we were dribbling it like a basketball. As a kid I thought she was lots of fun, and her “lots of fun-ness” grew older with me.

When her husband, Papa, died, I met a whole new Nana. That woman was crazy! At age 69 she got her 1st tattoo because, “That old grump never would let me get a tattoo!” I sat in the shop while she & my sister got matching butterflies. The whole time she kept taunting me about the fact that I was too young to get one with them.

When I was 16 she started regularly giving me gift cards to Victoria’s Secret so I could buy sexy underwear, and confided in me that she wanted to try “that thong underwear.” Later she whispered that she also wanted to “smoke some of the marijuana.” And, boy-oh-boy, it never stops. Just the other day she asked me if I could get some for her next visit.

Nana spends her afternoons drinking margaritas and playing cards with her buddies at the old-folks trailer park. That, or drinking white wine that her friend Peggy brings over in a jug, over ice, of course. She tells me that “all those penis pills have ruined old age” because now she can’t just have a male friend; “they all still just want sex!” She has determined that she had plenty of sex when she was married to Papa, and doesn’t see why she should have to put up with it anymore. Lord knows why she feels the need to share all this with me!

God bless her 77 year old soul! She an amazing woman with so much fire in her belly, and aches in her bones to complain about that I swear; she’ll outlive us all! More to come . . .

"Gee, this thing smells like a syrupy-gross bunch of fruit mixed together, let's name it Fruit Explosion!"

This morning, I'm washing my hands in the communal bathroom, and what do I notice on the sink? A spray can of air freshener. Now seeing an air freshener in a communal bathroom is nothing to note in of itself, but when it's name is "Fruit Explosion" it's definitely something to note.

I pose this question to you: Who in their right mind names an air freshener Fruit Explosion? Who was the total genius in the Air Freshener Naming Department who thought; "Gee, this thing smells like a syrupy-gross bunch of fruit mixed together, let's name it Fruit Explosion!"How in the hell did the name get past test-marketing; or did they think the name was so awesome they didn't need to do any market research?

And then there's the fact that I just can't help but think of another kind of fruit explosion, because my mind works in gross ways like that. We all know that spray cans of air freshener usually end up in bathrooms, which just makes the name doubly icky. Really folks, who hasn't eaten a bit too much summer fruit & had an explosion? Next time you do, reach for some Fruit Explosion fragrance spray to make it all better.

Even from the grave I'll be screaming, "Just conjugate the damn thing!"

I am not a grammar purist by any means. Though I may have been an English teacher, and minored in English in college, I am not the best grammarian. I am prone to comma splices and other horrendous travesties that befall our beautiful language. I am, however, a big fan of conjugating the verb "to be" and knowing when to use the plural and singular form of various words.

I get emails at work (and not the friendly correspondence kind) full of ridiculous grammar mistakes. My favorite is one I get every morning that says, "All is present." All is present? All is present?? Why, why, why, why? This email comes from a woman who is college educated; who is my superior, and I'm supposed to respect her? How am I supposed to respect someone who can't perform a simple verb conjugation?

I routinely get emails from employees of a large government organization that are full of run on sentences, misused apostrophes, and so much more! Now, I have studied linguistics. I understand that our language is a living, breathing, and ever changing entity, but c'mon people! I'm afraid that if our current language trends continue over the next few centuries. The verb "to be" will no longer have any conjugation rules, but even from the grave I'll be screaming, "Just conjugate the damn thing!"

I guess the good news is that the poor students that I tortured for 2 years while teaching English can rest easy, the world we live in today doesn't seem to give a flying fuck about proper grammar. You can bet your ass, though, if you hand me your resume and it's full of shit grammar, I'm tossing it in the shredding bin.

I'm not on drugs people, I'm just sleepy!

So, at 8:25 this morning I wake up and realize that I have, yet again, turned off the alarm in my half-zombie morning state. I have to leave for work by 8:30. I think you can tell where this is going. Lots of running around in various stages of undress, the corners of walls jumping out to meet my shoulders & knees; an all around bruise-a-palooza!

By the grace of god (and a very hot hairdryer) I was only 15 minutes late for work, but I'll be damned if I can't wake up. I'm walking around with my eyes half open and yawning wider than that chick in Arkansas who had 18 babies' vagina. When I try to form a coherent sentence I keep slurring like Paula Abdul. I think I know how she feels now. I'm not on drugs people, I'm just sleepy!

The Total Spazz Mission Statement

Oh the first blog entry; so much pressure. I might just crack, and never write a damn thing at all. Or I might just fall out of my chair and injure my pecking finger, and then where will I be??

Really, though, I'm just a big ol' bundle of uncoordinated and discumbobutlated. In other words, I really am a total, and complete spazz. I routinely walk into walls, miss my chair when sitting, trip over my giant feet for no good reason, and fall down stairs. In fact, just this past Monday morning I bumped down the stairs on my ass. That was not so pleasant.

I know there are more like me out there, I just know it. I can't be the only one. So, I thought I'd share some of the more laugh-worthy mishaps with the world.

I must admit to having a bit of an ulterior motive, as well. I'm only 26, but I have had so many "you just can't make shit like this up" experiences that I just have to write them down; someday in a book, on a blog for now. So this blog will alternate between laughing at me when I fall on my ass & laughing at me when I once upon a time married into a family that's too crazy, even for Jerry Springer.

Enjoy!