My apartment complex has become a thriving butterfly community. There are little yellow ones and little orange ones everywhere. I do not like butterflies or moths. They used to downright terrify me. If one came within fifty feet of me, I would scream and run. Now, I flinch at at initial discovery and just keep my eyes on the little shit until I am sure it has traveled a safe distance from me.
Auggie loves all flying insects. She catches them and eats them. It is a handy habit when a fly or mosquito hawk finds it's way into the apartment, a hilarious habit when she bites into a stinkbug, and a stressful habit when she catches a bee or wasp.
The past few days, our time at the dog park has consisted of her gleefully chasing and eating butterflies while I play poker on my phone. Every so often, I'll glance up because I get a sick thrill from watching my little exterminator at work. Today I looked up to find her at the very back of the park, with her nose to the ground. Assuming she was eating something she shouldn't (mushroom, dog shit, dead animal) I yelled for her to stop and ran out to her.
As I got closer, I realized she wasn't eating anything at all. Just the opposite. Poor thing was vomiting. I started talking to her in my soothing voice, "Aw, baby. It's going to be ok." And that's when I saw it.
There in the small puddle of puke, two butterflies. One little yellow one. One little orange one. Most elegant vomit ever.
Showing posts with label true story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label true story. Show all posts
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Are my Neighbors Immortal?
I found this saved as a draft, but never published.
September 25, 2010.
Every month my Community Association distributes a sad clip-art laden newsletter. When I see the green magazine in my mailbox, I immediately flip to the classified ads. I like to create scenarios to explain the weird shit that my crazy-ass neighbors are pedaling.
Last month there was an ad for a cemetery plot. This bothered me for days... why would someone sell a cemetery plot? Maybe they decided to have their remains cremated. Maybe they were recently married and their spouse had already made arrangements to be buried elsewhere. Maybe they were given a second plot as a gift. Google suggests that people hit by the recession have turned to selling their plots to supplement their income. Maybe they've found the fountain of youth and become immortal.
I still find a community newsletter an odd choice to try to unload a cemetery plot... there must be a better place to advertise this than nestled in between a Treadmill and Ikea dining room set. Also, who buys a cemetery plot from a community newsletter?
So, when I checked my mail this afternoon and saw the newsletter I flipped directly to the Classifieds to see if the item had been re-listed or if one of my other crazy neighbors actually purchased it.
- Engagement ring
- China place settings
- Cemetery plot!
- Child's wheelchair & dirt bike (wait, what?)
- Cemetery plot!
- Used piano
- Cemetery plot!
THREE of my neighbors are now selling their funeral plots... I'm tempted to call and ask some questions.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
That just happened!
A table just led the restaurant in an impromptu sing-a-long to the theme song from the Jeffersons.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
This day in Ceci History: "Starbucks is Evil"
Lifted from LJ April, 30 2002
Anyway... I was kind of near the front of the store when I heard a man yelling at Starbucks, not in Starbucks, at Starbucks. (Starbucks closes an hour later than BN on weekends), so I go to sneak a peek through the gate with Josh. Sure enough, some freak in a suede vest with fringe is throwing a fit. Josh explains that he comes in about twice a year and goes insane.
"You're all evil! Starbucks is evil!" He repeats this about four times then pulls a f..king GUN out of the back of his pants. Josh and I take a step back, and the (10?) customers in SB all freeze. He puts the gun on a table and warns the employees behind the counter that if any of them call the police, he'll shoot them all.
He's paid absolutely no attention to Josh and I, so we run to the phone and call 911, then rush back to watch the show. He's holding the gun again, not really pointing it at anyone, just holding it. He moves closer into the store, and some of the customers run out of the store! The guy doesn't see this, he's concentrating on the employees, Mindy and Ryan. While he's up in Mindy's face, Ryan motions the rest of the customers to leave the store. Of course, they do... but just stand out side watching!
The Freak realizes that everyone is outside, (why didn't they leave?!?) and someone is a little too close to his bicycle. He runs outside, "EVIL! Get away from my bike!" While he's stroking and comforting his bicycle, the customers all run back inside and Ryan locks the freak outside. (Still no cops) We open the gate and let them into our store... they're all really freaked out and don't understand why we aren't. (Neither do we...) Now the freak is pissed at us for helping the "evil ones".
He puts the gun back in his pants and pulls out... a big ass flashlight! He shines it on all of us, screaming, "You helped the EVIL ONES! You can't save them from my rap!" I start cracking up... I'm not sure if he meant "wrath" or if he was going to delight us with a song. He does not appreciate the giggling.
He reaches into his pants again and he pulls out a very small flash light! Now he's got one in both hands. He acts like he's going to throw the big flashlight into the window a few times, and we all squeal and duck, but never actually throws them. All the sudden he runs to his bike and starts to ride towards Hwy 6. It's not the cops, just our loser security guard. Where the hell has he been for the last 20 minutes? Of course, he's not allowed to leave the damn parking lot, so the freak rides away.
Fifteen minutes later, the SB employees and customers have left and we've gone back to recovering the store. I spot a cop car pull into the parking lot with it's trunk up. They caught the freak and put his bike in the trunk... classic. We all go outside to meet the cops... one asks Ryan if he can identify the suspect as the same man that made the threats. "Nope... different sickf..k with a fringed vest and blue bicycle." We all laugh, even the cop, who shrugs and says, "I have to ask."
Everyone gets to tell the story to the cops, quite fun... as the cops were leaving the same one asks if he can get a Starbucks bag. "No problem, what for?" "We need something to put his belongings in." Holy hell, if I ever go to jail I want my belongings in a Starbucks bag. How official.
He takes his Starbucks bag, and starts to get back into the Copmobile... "Oh, if it makes you guys feel any better, it wasn't a real gun."
But the flashlights... the flashlights were REAL!
Anyway... I was kind of near the front of the store when I heard a man yelling at Starbucks, not in Starbucks, at Starbucks. (Starbucks closes an hour later than BN on weekends), so I go to sneak a peek through the gate with Josh. Sure enough, some freak in a suede vest with fringe is throwing a fit. Josh explains that he comes in about twice a year and goes insane.
"You're all evil! Starbucks is evil!" He repeats this about four times then pulls a f..king GUN out of the back of his pants. Josh and I take a step back, and the (10?) customers in SB all freeze. He puts the gun on a table and warns the employees behind the counter that if any of them call the police, he'll shoot them all.
He's paid absolutely no attention to Josh and I, so we run to the phone and call 911, then rush back to watch the show. He's holding the gun again, not really pointing it at anyone, just holding it. He moves closer into the store, and some of the customers run out of the store! The guy doesn't see this, he's concentrating on the employees, Mindy and Ryan. While he's up in Mindy's face, Ryan motions the rest of the customers to leave the store. Of course, they do... but just stand out side watching!
The Freak realizes that everyone is outside, (why didn't they leave?!?) and someone is a little too close to his bicycle. He runs outside, "EVIL! Get away from my bike!" While he's stroking and comforting his bicycle, the customers all run back inside and Ryan locks the freak outside. (Still no cops) We open the gate and let them into our store... they're all really freaked out and don't understand why we aren't. (Neither do we...) Now the freak is pissed at us for helping the "evil ones".
He puts the gun back in his pants and pulls out... a big ass flashlight! He shines it on all of us, screaming, "You helped the EVIL ONES! You can't save them from my rap!" I start cracking up... I'm not sure if he meant "wrath" or if he was going to delight us with a song. He does not appreciate the giggling.
He reaches into his pants again and he pulls out a very small flash light! Now he's got one in both hands. He acts like he's going to throw the big flashlight into the window a few times, and we all squeal and duck, but never actually throws them. All the sudden he runs to his bike and starts to ride towards Hwy 6. It's not the cops, just our loser security guard. Where the hell has he been for the last 20 minutes? Of course, he's not allowed to leave the damn parking lot, so the freak rides away.
Fifteen minutes later, the SB employees and customers have left and we've gone back to recovering the store. I spot a cop car pull into the parking lot with it's trunk up. They caught the freak and put his bike in the trunk... classic. We all go outside to meet the cops... one asks Ryan if he can identify the suspect as the same man that made the threats. "Nope... different sickf..k with a fringed vest and blue bicycle." We all laugh, even the cop, who shrugs and says, "I have to ask."
Everyone gets to tell the story to the cops, quite fun... as the cops were leaving the same one asks if he can get a Starbucks bag. "No problem, what for?" "We need something to put his belongings in." Holy hell, if I ever go to jail I want my belongings in a Starbucks bag. How official.
He takes his Starbucks bag, and starts to get back into the Copmobile... "Oh, if it makes you guys feel any better, it wasn't a real gun."
But the flashlights... the flashlights were REAL!
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Poor Old Otis
Something today reminded me of this story so I thought I would share it with you. It's the time Bobbie and I made $25 getting my truck towed for free. If you've already heard about it, sorry, but it's probably still funny the second time...
We waiting for the tow truck to come pick up Otis from Big Mike's shop and take it to a transmission shop. We were hung over and in sweatpants and huge hoodie sweatshirts, wearing yesterdays make-up, hair tangled to the extent that pony-tails could not tame it. It's 4pm. Hey, that's how we rolled in the MHC.
Anyway, I'm in communication with the tow truck driver who is running late due to a back up of proportions a small town like Denver rarely sees and he is freaking out. I'm slightly annoyed, but decide to wait it out rather than calling Mr. Rescue and asking them to send someone else. When he finally shows up, after about an hour of waiting he's very apologetic. So apologetic that there is no refusing the $25 he's insisting we "two pretty young ladies take and go buy some pitchers of beer". Pretty? Yeah, 18 hours ago we were smokin' hot, at this time however we look like something that should send an audition tape to Riki Lake for a makeover. I'm barefoot for fucks sake!
At this point in the story the lucky listener always says, "I wish I were a hot girl so people would give me free stuff and pay me." First of all: the tow was free because I called Mr. Rescue, the roadside assistance plan Verizon Wireless offers for just dollars a month, look into it. It's a good investment. Secondly: what part of dirty, hung over, sweat clothes wearing, messy make up didn't you understand? Also, the guy was not hitting on us, his wife was with him. Although, upon closer inspection of Mrs. Towtruckdriver, maybe we were his type.
We waiting for the tow truck to come pick up Otis from Big Mike's shop and take it to a transmission shop. We were hung over and in sweatpants and huge hoodie sweatshirts, wearing yesterdays make-up, hair tangled to the extent that pony-tails could not tame it. It's 4pm. Hey, that's how we rolled in the MHC.
Anyway, I'm in communication with the tow truck driver who is running late due to a back up of proportions a small town like Denver rarely sees and he is freaking out. I'm slightly annoyed, but decide to wait it out rather than calling Mr. Rescue and asking them to send someone else. When he finally shows up, after about an hour of waiting he's very apologetic. So apologetic that there is no refusing the $25 he's insisting we "two pretty young ladies take and go buy some pitchers of beer". Pretty? Yeah, 18 hours ago we were smokin' hot, at this time however we look like something that should send an audition tape to Riki Lake for a makeover. I'm barefoot for fucks sake!
At this point in the story the lucky listener always says, "I wish I were a hot girl so people would give me free stuff and pay me." First of all: the tow was free because I called Mr. Rescue, the roadside assistance plan Verizon Wireless offers for just dollars a month, look into it. It's a good investment. Secondly: what part of dirty, hung over, sweat clothes wearing, messy make up didn't you understand? Also, the guy was not hitting on us, his wife was with him. Although, upon closer inspection of Mrs. Towtruckdriver, maybe we were his type.
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