Ok….I want to know……..How much STRANGE can one person take in a week?

I’ve already shared my STRANGE experience with my height phobia that kicked in over the weekend. Tuesday night another STRANGE thing happened to me. Not a quite a phobia this time but fear just the same.

I think I’ve tried to explain “The Tavern” before but for those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, it started out as your typical storage shed then was added onto and has since been converted into our poolroom/gameroom/bar.



This is where I go sometimes when I just want to be alone or just to jam to some music. That’s what I was doing Tuesday night. I went down there, switched on the light over the pool table, put in some CD’s, popped open a beer and had a seat. Everything was going fine (other than it was a little chilly in there with no fire). One CD played all the way through then it switched to the next CD.

Once the next CD started playing, it only played for about 30-40 seconds then the volume started going down. I noticed it right away and for whatever reason thought that Hubby had somehow got past me and turned it down. I looked over to where the stereo sits and didn’t see anyone so I just kind of shrugged my shoulders and thought “HMPH…that’s odd.”

Then a few seconds later, the volume went down some more. I continue to look in the general direction of the stereo wondering what the hell is going on. Within the space of about 20-30 seconds, the volume went completely silent.

I walked over to the stereo and noticed that the volume was on 0. I turned the volume button and the volume went up like it was supposed to. I have no idea how the volume turned down and made it back to 0 and I didn’t stick around to find out. The hairs on my arms were standing at attention and my heart was racing like it was in the Kentucky Derby.

I made a mad dash across the yard and into the house. My son and youngest daughter asked me what was wrong. I must have had a weird look on my face or something. I went on to explain to them what had happened and my daughter made the vow to never go in the “Tavern” again.

After a few minutes, my son and I walked back down there. He was curious and I wanted someone with me. We went back in the “Tavern”, turned the light back on, turned the stereo back on and sat there talking for a few minutes.

Needless to say, nothing out of the ordinary happened. My son stayed down there for a little bit then decided to go inside. I stayed. I think I just wanted to prove to myself that it was nothing or even if it was something, then I wasn’t going to let it get the best of me. I did go outside and Baxter (our dog) and bring him inside with me though. I’m not THAT brave. Not that Baxter would’ve done anything anyway. If we were to hear or see something that night, we would’ve looked like Shaggy and Scooby, tripping over each other.

There are certain things that I don’t like but I’ve never really thought of myself as having a real phobia.

That is until this past Saturday night.

I’ve never been a huge fan of heights and certain heights do bother me but I’ve never had fear grip me like it did on Saturday.

We were at the Monster Truck show inside the Coliseum. Our seats were only three rows from the very top. Walking up them didn’t bother me and even when I first sat down it wasn’t that bad. I got screwed when hubby was talking to my son about the catwalk that was up above us and my natural instinct was to look up and see what he was talking about.

MISTAKE!!!!!!!!!!!

I looked up and it was like the floor, seats and everything fell out from under me. NOT a good feeling. I couldn’t quite convince myself that I wasn’t going to fall and my stomach wouldn’t stop churning. I had this amazing death grip on the arms of the seat and I was pushing my body as far down in the seat as I could get.

Hubby and the kids are looking at me and asking me if I’m ok and all I could do was shake my head. I couldn’t even speak. The final straw was when my daughter looked at hubby and said, “Daddy, that’s pitiful”. At that point, the tears started rolling. I still don’t know if it was because of the absolute fear that had taken over or if it was because that fear happened in front of my kids.

The only thing I know is that I couldn’t move a muscle for more than an hour, even though hubby tried to get me to walk back down the steps. The fear had me immobilized and I’ve never felt fear like before and I hope like hell I never do.

All I know is that I absolutely WILL NOT be going anywhere above my height to stand, sit, lay or whatever. Nope. Ain’t happening.

These little tootsies will stay firmly planted on flat ground from now on.

A cop was on his horse waiting to cross the street when a little girl on her new shiny bike stopped beside him.

"Nice bike," the cop said. "Did Santa bring it to you?"

"Yep," the little girl said, "he sure did!"

The cop looked the bike over and handed the girl a $5 ticket for a safety violation and said, "Next year tell Santa to put a reflector light on the back of it."

The young girl looked up at the cop and said, "Nice horse you've got there sir. Did Santa bring it to you?" "Yes, he sure did," chuckled the cop.

The little girl looked up at the cop and said, "Next year tell Santa the dick goes underneath the horse, not on top.

There's nothing like spending 45 minutes spilling your guts onto the screen with a really good post then having it disappear

 

This is where I insert me stomping my feet, steam coming out of my ears, and the very beginnings of some really bad language coming out of my mouth

 

 

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

I was going back reading a few of my past posts and came across one about my mama and how she can't say certain words right if her life depended on it.

She has been this way ever since I can remember. She knows the words and how to spell them but for whatever reason, she just cannot pronounce them right.

I'm not talking about just a different type of accent on the word but pronouncing it wrong altogether.

Some examples:

maryanna sauce = marinara sauce

wrench = rinse

jar = jaw

These are just a few that she repeatedly mispronounces but the one that absolutely kills me and pisses me off is my son's name.

It's not complicated. His name is Kent. She calls him Ken (minus the T). His name has been Kent for 16 years. We haven't changed the spelling or pronunciation of it since birth so I really don't understand why, in the past few years, she cannot (or will not) say his name right and when you correct her on it...she says "I know what his name is, that's what I said....Kent".

There is NO arguing with her in a situation like this unless I want to lose my temper and say things that shouldn't be said but damn...it really irritates me.

Now my question is.......

Is this mispronunciation of words hereditary?

If so, it skipped me and my brother and went straight to my oldest daughter

I've caught her saying 'wrench' a few times in the past few weeks. When I bring it to her attention, she looks at me and says, "No way, did I?......OMG....I'm turning into Nanny"

My response to her is "You thought I was going to turn into Nanny? I think you've beat me to it

I don't know how to post an eyeroll and a sneer but that's what I get back