Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Today I blew my cover in my super secret world wide Gang..   Damnit.   All because I ran in a store to grab my mom a treat.   I'm not Darkwing Duck, I am...  e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.

Dear punk teenagers with the crotch of your pants lower than your knees, with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth and your shirt flung over your should showing off what might one day be a chest:

Visual Example:
if the stupid look is in this season you are freaking NAILING it !
if the stupid look is in this season you are freaking NAILING it




The second I walked in, I saw panic in the poor elderly woman behind the counter. haven't we all? I mean I'm sure in her day she didn't see a mans ass crack and drawers until after dark on her wedding day, but I am forward, I've got kids, I am cool and down with it, I can totally bridge this culture gap of generations no problem, let me slip on my cape.



I walked closer and I hear her voice quivery with a mix of fear, with a dash of authority. I can't quite make it out, she makes only brief eye contact with you and repeats her words, and tone. I get closer to the counter where each of you are on separate sides, like a courtroom or even a crazy dance scene from west side story might break out, and lucky me, woot woot, front row seats to this off off off off off Broadway production.


As I grow closer though, she glances at me, with fear and pleading in her eyes. I look over to sum you up again, and you have a lighter, and you are flicking it, your cheap ass lighter that's grinding oddly on that crooked flint throwing a faint spark as you steadily flick flick flick flick.


Then out of the corner of your 14 or 15 year old mouth that isn't holding a cigarette you are trying feverishly to light while standing across the counter from a lady working a restaurant. WOW,  NO FN WAY ?  I must have heard that wrong, surely your little boy butt did not just put vocal thrust behind the F^$* YOU! you just spewed at this elderly lady working.


Now I hear and see, she is saying, " no smoking, no smoking, you can't smoke here, please leave, no it's illegal, please please just leave me. English isn't her first language, she may speak it fine normally but maybe her being so scared and upset is making it choppy, but not to choppy to misunderstand the meaning, and I certainly understand smart ass teen, and what you said to that lady was wrong.
I stood back, waiting, to see if you 2 human beings from such different times, who have had such different lives can come together to communicate, without any escalation. I mean honey please, your tennis shoes and watch probably cost more than this ladies car, and I'm quite sure your comfy little "pseudo" hard life was  obviously way worse than whatever this woman went thru 50 years ago in another country she left to move to this one full of strangers,  strange language,  crossing an ocean to bust her ass to work in the food industry and be intimidated and cussed by a little spoiled puke poser like you.


Uhm no. You can't. because in walked your 2 little spoiled punk boyfriends. with your shirts off, and your pants around your ankles which pretty much ensures no matter my current physical state of health I can disable each of you with little effort as basically you have tied your ankles together.. genius move dorks..
I tried, I did. I honestly tried to stay out of it. But my mom really really really wanted a food item from this location, and since even though I am an adult I do want to see my mom smile I had left her in the car while I ran in to grab what she wanted. I wanted to be some sort of bridge for you to to communicate across.  DAMN YOU !  I already had my stupid cape on and now, I have to step in.



Sadly, I left my "little prick to English dictionary" in the car. So when your little boyfriends came in, holding their regions that might one day turn into a gender, and you yelled, " F &^% YOU, followed by a racial slur as you made another round of attempts to light your cigarette, I remembered I may not speak little prick, but I speak mom.


So son, when the fat old white lady in capris and flip flops with her hair in a clip who looks like every other old white soccer mom on the planet reached up and slapped that cigarette out of your mouth today, I saw you recoil in fear, I understand when your little boyfriend bowed up like he forgot his common sense at home in his upper middle class 2 parents home with a landscaped yard and thought he was going to run his mouth in my direction, yeah yeah I stepped at him, and used my best loudest, out door  MOM voice to scream while pointing. " BOY DON"T YOU DREAM IT!! I KNOW YOUR MOMMA !! I WILL KNOCK YOUR SMART MOUTH INTO NEVERLAND IF YOU DON"T STRAIGHTEN UP AND GET OUT NOW ! in that split second dumbass 3 took off as fast as he could possibly waddle with his pants around his ankles towards the door, dumb ass 2 started backing himself toward the door like a duck backing away from a croc, and you, you I never broke eye contact as I growled, " DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? you blinked, I had you.



I had you, and I made you apologize, I made you throw away your ILLEGAL smokes and lighter, and I made you pull up your pants and walk out.   Of course you do NOT know who I am,  for I come in many forms.


Here's the deal my little friend. Those of us "old ladies" you think you strike fear in? Baby boy, we been playing this game so long, we can flip it like a light switch.. Do you doubt me? Find any mom in the stands at her kids sports game, she will come completely OFF THE DAMN chain over a bad call by the ref. That mom, yeah that's the same mom, that by one look and without saying a word can make your grown father cower off to the pantry to empty the trash.



There are ways to spot us. We keep our pants pulled up. often our hair too. we wear gang related clothing, often it's like capris or yoga pants with a hair band around our wrist, you come across a mom with more than one hair band on her wrist? you are doomed, they are like belts in martial arts. Just quietly, and respectfully back the hell away. 



Of course you don't know who I am son, because I am " every mom " the mom you thought was at work, or at home or busy, and trusted you and your little friends to go walking a strip mall while she got a pedicure. I am the shadow in the closet, I am the cop at the door, I am the glass of water that braves the dark at 2am when you were too scared to speak.  I am the Doctor who nursed your wounds, the Teacher that helped you sing the ABC's.  I am the mother in labor, and the mother who keeps selected baby baby clothes in a keepsake box.  I am the Judge, the Jury, and I poses a pair of eyes in the back of my head I allow your mother to channel.  I will watch your precious little ass for her, if her eyes aren't near.  If she has misplaced trust in you, I will point out kindly how you are tying the damn rope around your neck yourself.  


 I have faith that any mother of any child who was trying to play big bad ass criminal man, and scaring an old lady today,  would have knocked the shit out of you so hard you would be back in diapers.  If  I am wrong about your mom,  if.  IF.  If I am wrong and your mom thinks it's fine for her little boy half naked to have ciggerettes, a dirty mouth, break laws and treat another human like trash,  well then son, you need me more than you will ever know, and I'm sorry that your mom wants to be your friend more than she wants you to be a good person.  Just remember..   We are a world wide network,  we are trained,  you wont ever know who is watching.  So don't be a little shit.  m'kay?

Love Always !

PEACH OUT

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

I will cut a bitch

DON'T   TOUCH   MY   DAMN   PIE ! 




I make stellar deserts, cakes, chocolates, candies, cookies, pies.  I'm really awesome.  I make them for people who need a pick me up.  I make them for birthdays, favors and gifts.

Sometimes I make a cake or pie for no special reason other than the wonderful smell and the fact I know someone will smile when I offer them a piece ( or 2).

One of the best parts of making pies, is sharing them.  I love to share my pies.  I will share an entire pie, not even keeping a slice for myself.  It's easy for me to make a pie, maybe not so easy for them.

However.   I will not have anyone  break into my house and steal my pie or even a piece of it.  I will stab them with a batter beater, or shoot them with a deadly spit ball fired at lightening speed.  

Seriously,  I will make pies if I have ingredients and time and skill,  and I will give them to family, friends, strangers and give the whole pie or the last slice.  But don't fucking tell me who get's my pie.  

If you can see the logic behind the above Pie story.  I hope with all my heart you understand exactly what is happening in our country.

You work for the money to buy the ingredients,   you work to bake the pie, and then, in front of your face, a stranger will walk in and take then entire damn pie.

It could be a murderer or a drug dealer, or a construction worker turned rouge burglar since jobs are short, and frankly just walking in my house and taking the pie without permission is a helluva lot easier than  carrying a kabillion tons of shingles up and down a ladder in the blazing sun.  Stealing the pie so much easier.

So we change the law so that it's no longer illegal to break and enter if you are only burgling pies. Because honestly everyone,  everyone deserves a pie,  what kind of monster thinks that they deserve a pie and someone else doesn't?   My god think of the children who have no pie.  it's in the damn constitution,  equal pie for everyone.  ( except for the bitch who made it)...


I'm too tired to fight, and can't stand the constant going without once my pies are stolen.  It's hard work,  I mean it costs money for the ingredients so we have to work, and then I have to shop, oh how I hate walmart.  Then making and cooking the pie, and the dishes oi vay!  I hate dishes.   Plus I have been making all these pies and all these people are taking them since it's legal and they deserve pies so my family hasn't actually gotten to eat a pie in months.  It seems like everyone has pie all the time, except us, no matter how many I bake.


Eventually all the other pie makers will become unhappy that they forgot what pie tastes like even if they bake 15 a day...  So slowly, one by one..  We each stop making pies.

OMG it's so awesome.   Since we stopped making pies,  I have been able to walk in and just take a pie from a stranger.  It's so awesome, so easy, and costs nothing.   WHY THE HELL HAVE I BEEN BAKING ALL THESE PIES FOR YEARS..

I was so stupid, I will never make a pie again, making pies is for pie suckers !  hahahah.  suckers...
( I hope they don't all wise up and stop,  but they probably will, because they are evil and don't care about all of us that have a right to a pie...   but I'm sure the Government will make sure we all get out pies from somewhere,  and it won't cost anyone anything.

it's like pie- fucking- magic....   free pie fucking magic.


Awesome.  I'm sure this will work out just fine.





xoxo
PEACH OUT

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Being smoking hot, and married.

Well well somebody is going to get lucky!


So me and my tolerant hubs stop in the local joint and grab a bowl of tepid egg drop.. blah whatever.
They give me a fortune cookie and half assedly I barely even care about opening it.  I'm that defeated.


The past few years I have noticed that fortune cookies don't really give you a fortune anymore, they just give you some  blah blah quote shit.  That's not a fortune that's a freaking phrase, quote or saying.

Also I don't want you giving those damn "lucky numbers"  because they don't have a lottery in this state so just quit reminding me I wont get a fortune and I can't even take a stab at it with a lotto ticket.


The air was sucked out of my lungs and my eyes about popped out of my head  when I saw this !



I know everyone has been hurting with the economy, but seriously I thought my ramen noodle suffrage was over when I got that Masters degree...   No one ever warned me that a major in Beer Pong wasn't all that employable.   So this is it, this is that moment,  WE ARE SO LUCKY !!!

I show it to my husband...

His eyes get huge, really huge, and he spits out his wanton and looks at me and says,

"OH SHIT I'M GOING TO DIE!"

Seeing the fear in his eyes and the terror in his voice,  I had to quickly redirect him, like any good wife would.  I had to save MY MAN !

I threw my non existent pride under the bus to break the tension ( like always ).


I looked him in the eye, waived the fortune cookie in front of his face, and then watched his eyes follow the fortune cookie down my cleavage and under the table in probably the sexiest move I have pulled off since the old tying the cherry stem in a knot with my tongue trick back in the day. which I am sure looks so much cooler in my memory since I was drunk

Then, channeling my best, "when Harry met Sally" spirit, I went for the Oscar.

I grabbed the table with both hands looked him in the eyes and quietly started breathing a little harder, and moaning, but just for a second.. because we've been married so long foreplay isn't something we dedicate a lot of time to,  I started alternating the "oh yeah's" and "mmm baby"  with each round getting louder.

At first he looked like he was trying to figure out if he should call 911.   Which if you know me, is pretty much the "go to" first step.  You just never know if I am an going to start flopping on the floor like a a salmon   flung out of stream by a bear.  

I had to dig deep and bring more sexy..   so I brought a little throaty purr and with a sexy flick of the hair looked him in they eyes to make double sure he knew the jig and would get it.

He took his eyes off of me, and was looking behind me like Dr Who was on or something and so I turned my purr into a growl.  

It was at that moment the sweet non english speaking lady that works there came from behind me with a glass of water,  put her hand on my shoulder,  motioned with her hands, the universal sign for choking, followed with the universal sign of drink water.

Which I followed with the universal sign of,  "oh yeah I'm totally freaking choking thanks so much for this water. cough cough.

Which my husband followed with the universal sign of,  ROARING LAUGHTER that made the windows shake.

My job was done...   He had totally forgotten that seconds before he was in fear for his life, 

We got in the car- 

him:  giggle giggle

me:  giggle giggle

him:  shakes his head giggle giggle

me: did you get it ?

him: giggle giggle,   get what?

me:  the fortune duh!

him:  what are you talking about?

me:  the fortune?  me COMING into a fortune...  duh....

him: the spelling is different that's not what it meant.

me: wow. so seriously, you didn't get it?

him:  you must be so embarrassed...


Oh yeah people clearly I am still smoking hot. 
 Don't hate me because I'm this sexy.
 Cause I am fixing to be rich bitches!


xo PEACH OUT