Wednesday, November 27, 2013

As The Chicken Clucks

On this episode of As The Chicken Clucks:

Something is clearly foul, because my feathers are thoroughly ruffled. Examples of said ruffling are as follows:

1) Had aunt flow show up and do jumping jacks on my uterus leaving me to crawl to the medicine cabinet and down a Midol or 3. And what joyous timing because I had to go grocery shopping.

2) Let me state that again, I had to go grocery shopping. I will give the guys huge kudos because they were able to keep up with me and armed the carts as I tossed things in their general direction. I call it sharpening their hand/eye coordination, but really I was just trying to wade through the masses and grab what we needed and get out. Thankfully they are use to this treatment and was able to snatch everything out of the air before it smacked them and/or innocent bystanders in the head. I have some sharp peeps, either that or they are terrified of getting creamed with a can of corn.

There was almost a throw down in the soup aisle. Started off with some lady had her cart blocking everyone off so her sister could dig through all the soup cans to get what she wanted. Too bad that wasn't gonna work for Ethel because she tried to shot-put Ed through the masses to get what she wanted. We were pinned so survival instincts kicked in and we just stood very still until the carnage settled down. No one was maimed so we live to fight another day. Although Jared did get a little too huggy with me and I yelled at him to back off and he scurried away. Hey, he was warned and he kept smacking that last nerve and then thought it was funny when I growled.

3) And this is the weirdest one. The other night we were watching House. (Why we get stuck on shows where I have to spend most of the time hiding behind a pillow so I don't barf and/or pass out remains a mystery to me.) So there we were watching as I was trying not to dry heave while they were operating on someone, when there was banging on the door.

Odd.

Fred opens the door to answer it only to discover cops there with a search warrant and an arrest warrant for someone who we don't know but claims to be living here. This person had a looong list of crimes and the cop said this gal had used many addresses.

Naturally, you have to pick our address. Yet another reason why I don't like rentals.

So Officer Don't Mess With Me Or I Will Club You To Death demanded to search the place. Search away because she's not here and clearly I don't look like Shaniqua, nor do we look like the type to hang out with her at the local weave shop. But what I didn't appreciate is that they kept asking us over and over how long we had been here. Feathers were starting to fly as he kept insisting that we knew her. Plus, we had to show our id to prove we lived here. Right, because I always break in to a place and sit down to watch episodes of House on DVD. Really?

Honestly, I expected this type of stuff from the ghetto house and I can't say as I'm surprised about it from this neighborhood either. But I found it rather unprofessional that the guy couldn't own up to the fact that she gave them the wrong address (shocking that a criminal with a long record tends to do that) and kept acting like it was our fault. This really doesn't help the paranoia that runs in the family. I can't wait to tell my mom about it and watch her go off about the conspiracy of it all. Should make for a festive holiday discussion. She's already giddy because Grandma decided she wanted to go to my cousin's house instead, which is fine with everyone.

I'm still amazed that I was actually devoid of all sarcasm in that actual moment and didn't say much, which is rather rare. And bonus points, I didn't have a panic attack of yore so no actually clucking was done. This must be a sign of progress. Although we're all doomed if I ever run into situations like this with my sassy panties on AND full sarcasm mode set to level high. Good thing aunt flow waited until today to show up because that could have gone down badly. Because I really don't want to wear ghetto bracelets while be dragged away to camp no we can't get along.

After the cops left, we all looked at each other and cracked up laughing. We are a strange bunch. And I have to shake my head in confusion as to why we seem to get hit with the weirdest stuff. Maybe this is a sign that more good stuff is coming? This stuff doesn't happen to normal people. Which means we have actual proof that we aren't even normal. Not like this is a big shock. But it still seems sort of strange and sad all at the same time. Weird.

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