Attack Of The Fire Ants

It was May 2005 in Holland MI. The rain was coming down steadily which is common for that time of year. However, Mother Nature's urine was not a concern for me. It would only be a couple of days before I was basking in the sun in lovely Palm Beach, Fl.
My mother and stepfather were packing up and heading south. Their house, which had been built only two years before, was now empty. A U-haul truck sat in the driveway loaded to the brim. At the end of the drive sat a trailer with my parent's van propped up on it.
Being the considerate son that I am, I tagged along with Mom so that she would have company and when we reached our destination, she would have help unloading. It would be a long trip, especially tugging a trailer behind the U-haul. My girlfriend at the time sat bitch, I sat shotgun the entire trip(because I lacked a license), and poor old Mom drove this sputtering beast over six states.
The trip was going well. We got started early in the A.M. and were making great time considering the load. If you know my mother, then you know that she is a trooper. Give this woman her Ritalin and Diet Mountain Dew and she can conquer the world. Sure, the trip would prove to be challenging but nothing could defeat us.
We were already in Frankfort Kentucky by mid afternoon and we were ready for a break. We were not stopping to stay the night. No, we would continue to push on, but when you see a sign for the Jim Beam distillery, well, it goes without saying, you must stop. And we did. We lined up with the rest of the tourist and watched a movie about the history of this delicious bourban. Then it was time for shots. Fortunately for me, my mother and lady friend were not up for bourban at 4 in the afternoon. Coming from a long line of drunken white trash from Ireland, I figured no one would mind if I helped myself to their free samples, and no one did.
The field trip was over and it was time to hit the road. Onward we went. Dusk hit as we ascended the Appalachian Mountains into Tennessee. Rain accompanied the night and so did a truck that felt as if it were on the verge of falling apart bolt by bolt. Traveling up the mountains reminded me of the choo choo that could. I was waiting for the U-haul to start reciting the words, "I think I can. I think I can." We had pushed the old truck long enough. It was time to find a place to rest our heads.
We stopped in some town in the middle of Deliverance country. Anywhere was fine with me. We got seperate hotel rooms. Mom in one and the lady and me in the other. We had brought some weed. It was time for the much needed and overdue buzz. Babies don't sleep like we did that night.
The next morning it was up and Adam before the Sun was even considering rising in the east. We continued our push through the Appalachians and were now descending. We had finally reached Georgia but the truck was hurting. Backfiring, sputtering, and making God awful noises. You could sense the fear in the cabin. Little prayers to God were being muttered under my mother's breath. Like a shot gun blast, came the loudest noise I have ever heard a vehicle make.
We pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. Cars, SUVs, mini-vans, and semi trucks were flying past us. It was a scene from the game Froggert. We stood there looking at the truck with a sense of defeat looming over us. Is this it? We've come so far. Why now?
Suddenly, my mother is slapping at her legs and ankles. I asked, "What is it Mom? Is something biting you?" Mom decided to step off of the shoulder to walk around the vehicle when fire ants attacked. Instantly she became weak. Trying to keep my mind intact after the misfortunes of the day, I encouraged my mother to push on. We would walk to the nearest gas station which we had passed five minutes earlier. My mother made it about twenty feet before the toxic alkaloid from the ants hit her like a ton of bricks. I was frightened that my mother was about to die on the shoulder of some fucking highway in the middle of Georgia(of all places).
"Come on Mom, I'll carry ya." I said. Like any son who loves his mother, I threw her up on my back and carried her piggy back style. The Georgia heat at 10 A.M was overbearing. It had already reached 90 degrees. Fortunately after walking this way for about 5 minutes a man pulled over to offer us a lift. I couldn't believe that we had gone that far without anyone stopping. This was post 9-11. Where were these people's sense of comradery? I 95 is one of the most traveled highways in the U.S.
The kind stranger drove backwards up the shoulder and whipped his truck around at the end of the ramp. The next thing I know is that we are in a BP gas station. My mother, who is a Christain, is yelling for Benadryl. The lady behind the counter says, "Mam, we can't go and give ya benadryl. We don't wanna give ya sumfin that might counteract the hospital's drugs." My mother replied, "Are you fucking kidding me. Abraham, find me benadryl."
An ambulance arrived before I had a chance to find any drugs for my mother. They took her away and like that my girlfriend and I were stranded in Hicksville, USA. What do we do? Should we try to find a way to the hospital? Instead, I contacted the U-haul people and gave them our location. "Yeah, give us bout twenny minutes. We be right out, awrighty." said the mechanic on the phone. Now there was the issue of not being at the BP when my Mother came back, if she even did. Well, no problem there because they both came at the same time, 5 hours later.
So my lady friend, Kylie, and I sat there in the Georgia heat. This was not my idea of basking in the sun. No, that fantasy included margaritas and my girl in a skimpy bathing suit. I began to miss the rain up north and found myself wishing that it was cold.
It was a Sunday and the religious were coming from all different directions to buy only God knows what at their local gas station. I sat on the curb watching the people when an obese black woman fell into the newspaper machines. She lay there crying for her husband as her two year old grandson stood over her with tears in his eyes. "Is this actually fucking happening?" I asked Kylie. I felt the sudden urge to laugh hysterically and found myself using the same muscles one would use to shit in order to prevent any maniacal laughter. We were in the Twilight Zone. I was convinced. I ran into the store and yelled at the old black man paying his bill. "Sir, sir. I think your wife has fallen and hurt herself."
For the second time that day, in a town of no more than 200 residents, the ambulance found its way to the BP gas station. That was when my Mother and the U-haul mechanic showed up seperately and at the exact same time. It was time to leave this madness behind. We would hop in with the mechanic and ride to the U-haul together.
As we approached the truck, we could tell that something wasn't right. While we were showing the locals at the BP how Yankees freak out over fire ants, an 18 wheeler clipped the side of the trailer(carrying the van) and the U-haul. Damage all the way down for 30 some feet. How this was not a collision of monsterous proportions still boggles my mind to this day. The semi simply just scraped the living shit out of the entire side leaving the tires flat on the trailer, a scratch down the side of my Mothers van which resembled the work of a giant keying a vehicle, and a partially dented in side of the U-haul.
We disconnected the trailer. They would come back for that later. The mechanic hooked the truck to his tow truck. I rode with him while my Mother and Kylie drove the van that sat on top of trailer. We were headed into the deep country of some rural Georgian county that reminded me of the slasher films. My imagination was in overdrive. It would only make sense that we would be tortured and murdered by the end of this journey. Some rednecks wearing my Mother's skin while chasing my girlfriend as I hang from a cattle hook. The perfect ending to a terrible day.
We were safe though. There was no torturing of the Yanks. At this point we simply waited while the mechanics worked their magic. A state police officer showed up to fill out an acident report. This may have been the first time that day that I had a panic attack. The officer walked around the van with my mother making note of the damage. That is when I realized that my marijuana was in a hand bag that was plastered up against the back window of the hatch back. The trooper stood next to a quarter ounce of my weed for what seemed like an eternity. He never had any reason to get in the vehicle.
The U-haul was fixed, the trailer recovered, and we were on our way. We drove to northern Florida and stopped for strong drink(which you can't buy in the entire state of Georgia on the lord's day). We stayed the night and started early for Palm Beach. We made it unscathed.

Andy Rooney On Brunettes

I must say that women with brown hair have always attracted me more than others. Perhaps there is some truth to Freudianism. The women in my family are all brunettes. My mother was a brunette, my sister, my grandmother. They're all dead now, but I still fantasize over them.
What is it about a woman with brown hair that makes me want to get to know her privates a little better? I don't understand why my 87 year old cock becomes arroused when I see a pretty brunette. It just does.
Sometimes I find myself playing with my dick in Central Park. Mothers taking their children for a stroll, young ladies jogging with their dogs, and brown muff all over the place.
Who says blondes have more fun? I don't know any blondes who have more fun. Are women with lighter features suddenly the spokespersons for female fun. I remember a young lady by the name of Cyndi Lauper, brunette, who dyed her hair all kinds of punky colors. She said, "Girls just want to have fun."
I'm Andey Rooney, and this is 60 Minutes. I will see you next Sunday, where I will continue to act like a senile old bastard.

*Brunettes of the world, I truly believe that you are the prettiest. I meant to say something sweet about you girls, instead, I drifted off to Rooney world. Life is much simpler there.

Random Thoughts

My dog stinks really bad. Sometimes I wonder if I carry her repulsive stench with me. How do you have fun without drinking or getting high? Would a room full of snotty boogers smell bad, I wonder. Sometimes I pray to God when I'm tired, then I start to fall asleep and have impure thoughts while I'm still praying. I find myself apologizing to someone I've never met. I'm always excited for football season in the spring. I havn't even appreciated summer yet and I'm ready for fall so I can watch people (who don't give a shit about me) play a game. Why do I fall in love with a different girl everyday? Doesn't have to be someone I know. Could be some poor white trash girl at the supermarket. Could be a bank attendant named Shawanda. Or maybe its you...Creepy

A Confusesd Little Man

Jiverly Wong was a Vietnamese immigrant who lived in the U.S. since the early 1990's. In case you have no idea who this person was, let me fill you in. Wong recently stormed the American Civic Association building in Binghampton, NY killing 13 people before turning the gun on himself and taking his own life.
Binghampton is a small town in western New York. Per capita, Binghampton has the least amount of crime in the U.S. I guess you could say that they were a little shocked when Jiverly went ape shit.
According to Wong's suicide letter, the police have been harassing him since he came to this country. Late night molestations, threatening text messages, and vicious rumors are just a few of the examples Wong was gracious enough to leave us in his delusional letter.
The letter, that is being investigated by the experts, was dated March 18th nearly two weeks before the slaying. Photos of Wong smiling, holding two guns, and waving around a gun permit and driver's license also accompanied the letter.
Those are the facts in this case. Now let me start by saying, "What The FUCK?" For the reader's sake I was considerate enough to post the suicide letter following this entry. I should apologize for calling it a suicide note. I would describe it more as the rantings of a depraved mad man. A confused little man who was missing all of his screws.
Let me interest you in a couple of Jiverly Wong's quotes. Wong started the letter, "Dear New Ten Now. I am Jiverly Wong shooting the people. The first I want to say sorry I know little English." Like most Asain people, Wong is very polite. I like that in a mass murderer, shows character. Good manners will get you far in life.
This quote that you are about to read completely blew my mind. Try not to think about the words for too long, you will have a fucking brain embolism. "Because undercop gave me a lot of ass during the 18 years I got 7 years and 8 month delivery to grocery in the California came back New York on the August 2007." Ok, I understand that he spoke poor English, but what does this mean? Does anyone feel like they lost some brain cells? I wish I could have had a chance to sit down with Jiverly and pick his little brain apart. I'm certain that it would have made for some of the most interesting conversation I've ever had.
The final quote that I will share ends this letter full of jiberish and non-sense and in all honesty makes the most amount of sense. "Already impartial now...cop bring about the shooting. cop must be responsible. And you have a nice day."
And I say to you sir, have a nice day in Hell.

The Sucide Letter From Jiverly Wong

Dear NEW TEN NOWI am Jiverly Wong Shooting the people.The first I want to say sorry I know a little English. I hope you understand all of this. Of course you need to know why I shooting? Because undercover cop gave me a lot of ass during eighteen years I got seven years and eight month delivery to grocery in the California came back New York on the August 2007.Let talk about when I live in California. Such as...cop used 24 hours the technique of ultramodern and camera for burn the chemical in my house. For switch the channel time...For adjust the fan. For made me unbreathable. For made me vomit. For connect the music into my ear.Undercover cop usual coined some nasty was not true about me and spread a rumour to the receiver and some people know me conduce toward many people predudiced and selfish to me...cop made me lost my job...cop put me became poor.Let talk about when I live at the 28 Baker St. 2nd Floor, Johnson City, New York 13790. It terrible when I live there such as...cop wait until midnight when I off the light and went to the bed. Cop unlock my door and came in take a sit in my room ((cop did it thirteen time on the year 1994 )) on the thirteen time had three time touch me when I sleeping. One time stolen 20 dollar in my wallet. One time used electric gun shoot at the behind my neck. (That time I did not know English)Please continue second page thank you.Page 2From 1990 to 1995 New York undercover cop try to get a car accident with me. Such as when I driving on the highway and on the street undercover cop sunddenly brake the car stop immediately at the of front my car...cop did it 32 time like that during 1990 to 1995 but I never hit the car.Many time from 1990 to 1997 at the day time...cop exploit unknow English and went to my house knock the door for harass and domineer. Of course during that time cop coined something was not true about me and spread a rumour nasty like the California cop.From August 2007 until now cop gave me not to much ass only one time cop leave a massage in my voice mail and said (( come back your country )) after five minute I send a text massage to them I said I will call the police and they send it back to me they said they are the police.Dear New Ten Now. Right now I still get unemploment benefit of the company Shop Vac Endicott. New York State Department of Labor was cheat and unpaid from December 1st 2008 to December 28th 2008 I already claim weekly benefit from that date.Any way I can not accepted my poor life. Before I cut my poor life I must oneself get a judge job for make an impartial with undercover cop by at least two people with me go to return to the dust of earth.Already impartial now..cop bring about this shooting. cop must responsible. And you have a nice day.