Sunday, May 19, 2013

That time we got lost in the woods.

What I am about to tell you is 100% TRUE.

A couple weeks ago I went geocaching with my little brother Abe (who isn't so little anymore.) We had quite a few geocaches loaded into the GPSr, but decided to pick up a few that were on a trail loop in our local nature center.

At first, it was great fun. We found four or five geocaches and saw lots of beautiful scenery. The Wittenbach Center is awesome because it has lots of different terrain and habitats - marshes, meadows, coniferous forests, deciduous forest, even a little farm and garden. It's about 60 acres, but is surrounded by private woods on three sides.

We're starting to get tired, because we're fat and we smoke, so we decide to follow a trail loop back to the Center. The tree cover was pretty heavy, so my GPSr couldn't get a good satellite read and the compass wasn't working properly. Even though the trail was narrow and no longer groomed, I was certain we were heading south to the Center, and pretty soon we could see an opening in the trees. We walked another ten minutes and got to the clearing, only to realize - we weren't anywhere near the Center.

We were on a little dirt road, obviously groomed by the Road Commission. We turned right, which we thought was west, and walked about a mile. Suddenly, we see a ROAD ENDS sign, and a big fancy house. This is the point where we realized we were actually, legitimately lost.

I wanted to knock on the door and tell them I was a time traveller who needed a ride, but my brother thought that was a terrible idea, so we sat down on the side of the road, had a smoke, and decided what our next step should be.

I still couldn't get a good satellite read, but we had cell phone reception, so Abe downloaded a good GPS app to his smartphone. The road was too small to show up on his maps, so we still didn't know where we were, but we could see that we had to go southwest. We eyeballed the woods and decided to go back in, blaze our own trail, and make it back to the Wittenbach Center.

What we didn't realize is that there are no trails in that area for a very good reason. About four hundred feet into the woods, we came across a steep drop off with a creek at the bottom. It was at least eighty feet to the bottom, at about a 65 degree decline. We looked to our left and right, to see if there was an easier way down, but there wasn't.

We went about halfway down and then walked sideways along the cliff for a few hundred feet, avoiding the swampy areas as much as we could. The gnats and mosquitoes were thick, and swarming around our heads. We hiked for about 45 minutes along the hill, holding saplings for footing and continually checking Abe's phone to make sure we were heading in the right direction.

Suddenly we were in a valley. The big cliff was behind us - but in front of us was another steep hill. We stopped for a break, but made it quick because it was starting to get dark.

We headed up that cliff, and down it, and then back up another one, and back down. We could hear traffic and we knew we were headed to a busy road, probably Vergennes. Up another cliff, huffing and puffing, and when we got to the top - THERE WAS THE ROAD! The problem was, we had to hike down that cliff, across a freakin; river, and back up a cliff to the road.

We got to the river without incident. Crossing the river was a whole 'nother story. What looked like solid ground was actually mud. Not just mud - the kind of mud that sucks your feet in and steals your shoes.

I took my shoes off and made it across okay. Abe, who outweighs me by at least a hundred pounds, was not so lucky. He had to keep backing up and trying again, until finally he launched himself into a full out run through that muck, his feet going schhhhLURP schhhhLURP until finally SPLASH! He was in the river.

Crossing it was no problem. It wasn't too deep and we picked a nice gravelly area. But now we had to climb up a straight 90 degree angle to the road.

I grabbed saplings and made my way up, wiping my muddy feet on dead leaves before jamming them back into my boots. Yet again, Abe wasn't so lucky. The saplings he grabbed kept breaking off. He stood in the river for a couple minutes and then decided to walk upstream a ways, where the trees were bigger. Before long, he was up and out and we continued our hike until we got to the road.

We finally got up there, sweating and exhausted and covered in scratches and mosquito bites. Abe looked at me, huffing and puffing, and said, "We.... are the baddest ... motherfuckers... alive."
I had to agree.

Luckily, we knew right where we were - which was a quarter of a mile from the nature center. We walked back, nearly getting hit by several cars, and when we got to the car, we started laughing. Here we are - two obese, out of shape people, hiking around in the brush and woods, and we freakin' made it.

Later, I got home and looked at a map of the Wittenbach Center. We hiked approximately three miles that evening, but if we had turned around at that first dirt road and gone about 800 feet, we would have run right into the trail, saving at least two hours of rough hiking.

But we wouldn't have had an adventure, and adventures are totally worth a couple hours and a few hundred mosquito bites.



PS. My husband bought me a compass.


Monday, April 1, 2013

I never think of a good comeback until it's way too late.

What I'm about to tell you is true. Mostly.

I have had a lot of experiences where people catch me off guard with a word or action, and I just stand there like an idiot, smiling and nodding as though I agree with them, and then, hours, days, weeks later, I think of a good response.

For instance. Hubs and I had our taxes done a few weeks ago. We had to list all of our kids and their social security numbers. We have five kids. yes, I realize this is more than the average. No, I don't care what you think about it. 

The tax preparer laughed and said she was the youngest of six, and then said, "You DO know how that happens, right?"

What I said: Erm, hehe, um, yeah, hahaha! [gulp] haha, hahahaha!

What I should have said: Oh hell yeah! You know, it's a wonder we don't have thousands and thousands of children! Hey honey, I don't think we've ever done the nasty in an H&R Block before, whattaya say we work on baby number six? There's plenty of room on this desk!
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Here's another example. Last year I got a notion in my head that because I could roller skate in a circle, and do fancy crossover turns, and am in general a pretty badass bitch, that I should join the roller derby. Oh, it was a good idea, initially. I was good at skating and learned how to do all these crazy roller derby maneuvers, such as skating along all quick and then wham! Down on one knee like a boss.

But then I ran into a  little issue - a man. Fucking MEN! Screwing shit up everywhere. Anyway, this man was a ref, and he and I had history. Not that kind of history, you pervs. I had worked with him over a decade ago, when we were legal to vote but couldn't yet buy a beer. We'd smoke together on our breaks and once in awhile we'd do some yahoo chatting, because it was the very early 2000s and people used to do that kind of thing.

Apparently only one of us grew up. And it wasn't him.

He added me on facebook, we chatted, all was good. And then he started sexually harassing me. Like, straight up asking for HJs and wanting me to send him pictures of myself. 

What I said: Oh! Hahaha, oh, you're so silly. Hahahaha. Good one! What a funny joke! Hahahaha! Ha!

What I should have said: Honey, I have heels bigger than your dick. Now leave me the fuck alone before I introduce them to your pimply little face.

I blocked the little shit, but I wish I would have said that first.

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Last example. My little brother was killed by a teen driver in a motorcycle accident almost seven months ago. We chose to go to the young man's court dates. The final date was a few weeks ago and was the kid's sentencing. I spoke to the court and then sat down, and when it was all over, the kid's attorney wouldn't leave me alone. Maybe what I said in court touched something in his shriveled black lawyer heart, or maybe he thinks women with shaved hair, large, visible tattoos, and stretched out earlobes are hot.

Anyway, he kept following me around talking to me about nonsense. He told me what year he graduated high school and from where, as though that would impress me. I'm thinking, Great job, dickweed, you graduated high school when I was seven years old. But I'm not saying anything, just standing there with a stupid grin on my face, like I gave two shits about what he was saying.

He crossed the line though, when he started telling me, in detail, about some guy he knew that got killed on a snowmobile. "I know exactly how you feel," he said. "When I was twenty six a buddy of mine..." Blah blah blah.

What I said: .......... 

What I should have said: Listen here, you fat, balding little punk. While your endless drivel about high school and dudes you knew may fascinate the brainless bimbos you've confused me with, I am utterly unimpressed with your lack of professionalism. In case you weren't paying attention, this is my little brother we're talking about and if he weren't lying in a grave due to your client, he'd punch you right in your double chin, just because you look like the kind of guy who deserves it. 

I ended up just turning my back and walking away in the middle of his story, which was probably the right thing to do. 

Sunday, March 10, 2013

No one went to jail.

This story is 100% TRUE.

The other night, I was driving my car.

Driving is normal, except when your backseat is crammed with household items and your front seat is full of three grown women.

I got pulled over for having a headlight out. Not a big deal, right? Except one of us - not me - has a bench warrant for not paying traffic fines.

The cop came up to the window and asked for my ID. I gave it to him. Then he asked who the other ladies were. I was freaking out. I said, all quiet, "Uh, these are my friends and that one is moving," pointing to Alli.

He asked for their IDs. The one with the warrant stuttered and mumbled. I said, "Oh crap, didn't you leave your wallet at home? I remember seeing it on the table." She continued to mumble. "Oh yeah," she said. "I left it on the table."

The one without the warrant said, "I left mine at home."

He took their names and birthdates and went back to his car.

We all lit up cigarettes and started trying to figure out what we were gonna do. We figured out that we had $1100 in the bank, between all three of us, which would be enough to get Ms. Warrant out of jail.

We sat there for what seemed like ever, freaking out.

Suddenly another cop car pulled up. "FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

It drove up next to us and then in front of us, and after a pause of what seemed like EVER, it pulled away. Ten seconds later, the cop behind me came back to the car, practically threw my license at me, and said "No citation, drive safe."

WE GOT AWAY WITH IT.

I drove off, really carefully, and then we all started freaking out even worse. "HOLY FUCK! We got away with it! YOU AREN'T GOING TO JAIL!"

We couldn't stop talking about it. We felt like we had just gotten away with a bank heist. No one went to jail and I didn't even get a ticket!

This isn't real life, folks. This is not how real life works.

We concluded that we must have been caught in a time warp.