Archive for January, 2013

Post #86 – Tripping for the Tribe…

Posted in Family, humor, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 30, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

My husband is in an originals, hard rock band called The Murnane Tribe. A couple weeks ago, they had their first gig in Indiana. I was really excited for them to be breaking into another market, and very happy to be jaunting out of town to see them play. But, of course, we’re talking about ME, so you know that some sort of mayhem had to occur, and neither I nor the universe would disappoint.

First of all, I like to get all dolled up when I go to see them at a club. So, I spend a good bit of time trying to tame my unruly, curly quaff and doing my makeup, etc.

However, before all that, I decided to wax my eyebrows. Big mistake. I’ve done so before without a problem. But this time…not so much.

I heated up the wax, removed excess fur from the right eyebrow, no problem. However, while eradicating the unwanted fuzz over my left eye, I applied too much wax, and a big goober of wax landed on my eyelashes!

DAMMIT! I tried to squeeze off the wax, but it held fast like lava cementing to glass. I should’ve taken a picture because it looked rather bizarre – akin to some kind of strange eyelash pimple…

I took a hot wash cloth to the blob and tried to roll it off my lashes. No luck.  I hopped in the shower, thinking maybe I could melt it off, which didn’t happen, but I did manage to peel off a bit more. But a pin-sized dot of it remained.

Finally, after straightening my hair somewhat, I made another go at operation wax extraction by holding my captive lashes up and scraping at the wax repeatedly with my fingernail against my brow bone. It really HURT, and it didn’t budge.

I began to fear I’d have to coat my new eyelash booger in mascara and pray it wouldn’t be mistaken for some sort of TUMOR, but then…it broke free. And I smiled until I noticed it had snatched 3 or 4 eyelashes with it. FRACK and double FRACK.

And…I’m not holding my breath that they’ll grow back. Luckily, I do have relatively thick eyelashes. So, the missing lashes aren’t noticeable – especially with a liberal splash of mascara.

First problem solved. Onto the next.  I sped off for Indy around 1:30 that Saturday. My husband had left HOURS earlier with the band, and they were probably crossing into Indiana by then. But I’d still get there in time to have dinner with my cousins before the show, so I was a happy camper…

But first, I had to get gas.  Afterward, when I zipped onto 270 West, I heard this THUNK, CLUNK. I glanced around, fearing I’d hit something. Nope. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I realized I’d neglected to screw on my gas cap, and it was now flapping wildly on its rubbery little cord…sigh.

And, of course, I was driving through a long stretch of construction with a concrete wall to the left – gravel, bulldozers, and a seemingly endless string of orange barrels to my right.  There was nowhere to pull over, and no exits in sight.

I got in the far right lane anyway in the hopes there would be a break in the construction barriers soon before my gas cap became road kill. Concerned that the force of the wind would SNAP the little bungee cord in two that was holding my gas cap to my car, I slowed down to 45 MPH.

While scanning the horizon for a in the construction, a LOUD HORN squawked beside me. I look over at this old, multicolored Pontiac occupied by at least 9 dark-haired, scruffy-looking men jammed into the front and back seat – all smoking cigarettes and pointing to the rear of my vehicle.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know. The gas cap,” I muttered to myself with an annoyed sigh. The men in the backseat pointed fervently again toward my gas tank. “Yeah, AND, where should I pull over on top of the bulldozer there or on the barrels?” I barked, waving my hands in the direction of the barrels, a slew of construction equipment on the right side of the freeway.

They charged past me, shaking their heads. What? I’m not bumping and grinding around a bunch of bulldozers, over nail-spiked rocks and chunks of old cement, not in my Escalade that took me YEARS to afford. Maybe, in my husband’s 14-year-old truck that’s held together by rust, spit, and duck tape (which he refuses to trade in, but that’s another story),  but not in my Caddy, ladies and gents, not happening.

An excruciatingly long five minutes later, I spotted a large slab of concrete about 100 feet ahead. I snapped on my blinker, pulled over, jumped out, fastened the gas cap, and off I went.

So, now you’re thinking smooth sailing, right? Fat chance of that…

I made it to Indianapolis in record time around 4:30, just as the spring in my sun visor broke! I moved it to the left to block the sinking blob of sun, and BOING. Down it went. It was hanging awkwardly, and in this case, a picture really is worth a thousand words:

visor photos 002I had to scrunch down in the seat about HOBBIT height in order to see the road, yeah, uber comfy.

Then, I misread the directions and passed the exit for 65 South. My cousin Juliana moved about a year ago, and I’ve only been to the new house once. When I realized my mistake, I called Juliana and spoke to her husband, Tom, who had no clue where I was, other than I was on 465, the beltway around Indianapolis.

While talking to him, I saw an exit for 65 North and thought the exit for 65 South should appear momentarily. Nope, must’ve been first. I was having trouble keeping the visor out of view, so I’m sure that contributed to my missing the exit again. My GPS is now defunct, so that was of no use.

A few minutes later, I saw a sign for 65 SOUTH. But, no, the universe HATES ME because there was an accident on that off-ramp, and it was blocked off by two cop cars, road flares, the works.

I did the math and calculated that I was 15 minutes from the 65 South exit in the opposite direction or 15 minutes to the next exit, according to a sign in front of me, which was, in fact, the exit I should’ve taken the FIRST time round. So, I just kept going.

An hour and 55 miles later (and after completely circling Indianapolis), I finally pulled into my cousins’ driveway and gleefully accepted a large glass of Merlot. We had pizza and chatted away until 10:00 when I departed for the Rock House Cafe, and the Tribe totally rocked!

Not much turmoil coming home except stopping at Steak n Shake for 30, yes THIRTY MINUTES because they screwed up my order twice. However, when contemplating all the adversity I encountered along the way, that was a minor inconvenience I could live with…

PEACE OUT from HOME SWEET home where my visor still hangs awkwardly in my face because Tom’s duck tape repair has now become dysfunctional. So, guess what my husband is doing this evening? 🙂

Love and chocolate chip cookies,

TenaciousBITCH and her crazy aplenty…


Post #85 – Stupid humans and their magic puppy powder…

Posted in dogs, Family, humor, nonfiction, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on January 24, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

I was cleaning out my medicine cabinet yesterday, and I found this flea and tick powder…

FLEA - TIC POWDER…that looked rather old. While searching for the expiration date, I happened upon these intelligent words on the back of the container:

Also works for lice – if a problem

Now, I ask you, when are LICE not a problem? LOL, um, when they’re dead and have been removed from one’s hair/fur/upholstery/carpet/clothing, etc.?

And when is the exact moment lice become an issue if not when merely squatting upon my beloved best friend according to the wise manufacturer of this wondrous powder for puppies? Is it in the event that said lice have decided to build a fire in the forest of Lassie’s fur?

Or is it when they get all settled in and start hooking up with each other and begin spawning their own FAMILIES? And then, you’ve got, not just a few vermin, but a regular zombie apocalypse of the LICE persuasion…okay, maybe not, but you GET the idea…:)

However, THEN, do the sleeper cells of your poison launch an attack on the unsuspecting lice? Or is it later when the lice have built condos and are electing local officials there upon the grasslands of our poor pooch’s pelt?

And now the poor beast is whining and scratching all night long, keeping us awake until the wee hours. At which point, many of newborn lice begin to migrate to the drapes, the couch and carpet, etc…and not even the industrial sized carpet cleaning/pest controlling promising cleansers/bombs can blast those tiny, disgusting parasites from your house…

I assume then, we must somehow INFORM the powder that YES, the lice have become a nuisance/aka a problem!

And how does this magical anti-flea/tick/lice remedy work, anyway? Must we utter a mystical incantation to COMMAND this crazy-assed, pest concoction to gank the stragglers among the lice community, or shall we just instruct the DOG to inform the flea powder, that, yes, in fact, the lice have become problematic?

Yes, Raven (our black lab) and Bear (our German Shepherd/Chow mix) I see you shaking your heads. But rolling your eyes? More effort than these clowns deserve.

Ah, but the answer is SIMPLE (not to be confused with the ANSWER to infection – ? don’t get that – go watch 28 DAYS LATER already). After all, everyone knows that lice hate hip hop. So, just crank up some Eminem, ‘Lil Jon, 50 Cent, Flo Rida, Pit Bull—whomever is your favorite.

And I guarantee, the suitcases will be snapping, and the lice be hauling their pesky presence elsewhere, maybe EVEN next door. And what better revenge if you don’t happen to like your neighbor or his rather mean-mouthed cat who occasionally poops in your prize-winning hibiscus? Am I right, or am I right?

Stupid humans. Think before you tattoo your ignorance across thousands of canisters of pet products to be jeered and laughed at – at a pet store near you…ah, well, I needed a good giggle…and Bear would be laughing too if he weren’t so OVER most of us damned homo sapiens anyway…

Lassie, Raven, Rover, Bear and I must go now…time to see what kind of brilliance might’ve been scrawled across their gourmet bag of kibble…or maybe, we’ll just take a nap…

Over and out from fucked up central…:)

TenaciousBITCH and her band of truth-spouting, Non-FDA/non-terrorist kind of people…

NOTE: All of the contents/material herein whether such has been written/drawn/stapled/copied and/or photographed by TenaciousBitch on has all been copyrighted by Tenacious Bitch and her alter ego, who shall remain nameless for the moment (or maybe, it’s Kennedy Smith).

© Tenacious Bitch 2013

Post #84 – The Diet Pepsi debacle…

Posted in elixir, Family, Food and beverages, humor, memoir, nonfiction, parenting, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 14, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

It's Monday, and this just seemed appropriate, and, yes, I did this. And, YES, I'm okay with it... :)'s to surviving another day in the trenches everyone! :)

In honor of every single, dreaded Monday, the note/photo above just seemed appropriate. And, yes, I did post this EDICT in my fridge after one very BLEAK Friday when I awoke at 5:30 AM and realized that my life was SANS Diet Pepsi. Since I can’t drink coffee because it makes me nauseous, I did not appreciate having to wait until 7:30 for my morning glory and/or having to stop at a bodega near the college where I was teaching at the time – to obtain the aforementioned life-sustaining elixir.

How did this happen, you ask? Well, apparently, one of my son’s friends who was unaware of the death knell accompanying his thievery, did, in fact, slurp down my last beloved can of fizzy deliciousness (a.k.a. Diet Pepsi).

And, no, I do not own any samurai swords, brass knuckles, machetes and the like, nor would I use my husband’s Russian rifle. That SAID, here’s to surviving another day in the trenches everyone as I guzzle my last DP of the day with a grateful sigh knowing that there’s another 12-pack in the garage just waiting to be cracked and consumed!

Peace out from f*cked up central… 🙂


Post #83 – Danny’s tightrope…

Posted in Family, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 6, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

Happy New Year, everyone! Now that my head has cleared after my Blog of the Year nomination :), I have an update on my younger brother, Danny. For those just tuning in to my matinee of madness, Danny is an addict, who stole more than $50K from my Grandmother and dumped her in a low-rent nursing home the Christmas of 2010. The 411 on that particular brand of chaos, begins at:

Unfortunately, Danny fell in love with drugs in junior high. He’s tried to quit three times in the last ten years, and after tumbling off the sobriety wagon, he, like many addicts, cried for help via suicide attempts. I’ve blogged about those events, which are not in order chronologically, but reside at:

and –

Anyway, that said, at this point in this life, Danny has chosen to, once again, embark upon that tightrope existence known as being sober. My friend, Jack (Danny’s friend also), called on New Year’s Day to give me the news.

“Where’s he living?” I asked.

“In a halfway house owned by some church. It’s affiliated with a really HUGE church in Columbus.”

“Oh, which one?” I asked, since, of course, I live in a suburb of Columbus (Ohio).

“World Harvest,” Jack replied.

“Really? That’ s over on the East side. You know, Ashe* built that church.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, back in ’96 or ’97, he lived here in Columbus, and he was a Project Manager for American Church Builders. They built World Harvest’s church. I went over there to drop Max off to see Ashe a couple of times. And somewhere there’s a picture of Max, when he was 4 or 5 sitting on a bulldozer, happy as a clam, on that construction site. Ashe and his second wife actually went to World Harvest, on occasion as well.”

“Huh, well, that’s a monstrous church, like 4,000 people or something.”

“Yeah, I know,” I answered. “I hope Danny’s serious this time, for his own sake.”

“Me too, but who knows.  He’d been staying with some guy he’d been working with last time I talked to him in October. And he was going to bartending school, and now he’s going to church and trying to get straight. Kind of a quick transition if you ask me,” Jack explained. “I’ll bet he just got kicked out of his buddy’s house and had nowhere else to go, ya know?”

“Yeah, could be, or maybe, he’s finally decided to kick the habit.”

“I’m afraid, he’s just staying there until something better comes along, but I hope I’m wrong.”

“Me too. We know how this song and dance usually ends up. He starts out doing really well, then ends up white-knuckling it the closer it gets to May when Mom died, and that anniversary always nixes his abstinence.”

“Yeah. He also got baptized the other night.”

“What? Why? We were all baptized when we were babies like everyone else in the Catholic Church.”

“Well, this particular church is Pentecostal, and-”

“That’s the church that Nana grew up in, and I won’t go there. We’ve gone to the Presbyterian church and a couple nondenominational Christian Churches, but the Pentecostal church is too out there for me. I remember going to Nana’s church in Georgia in grade school, and some woman started speaking in tongues, scared the pee out of me,” I said, chuckling.

Jack laughed. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Nothing against the Pentecostal church, but I never went back. It’s just not for me. It’s too different from the formality of the Catholic church that I grew up in.”

“Yeah. Danny said getting baptized changed his life.”

“That’s what he said after watching Joel Osteen with Nana a few years ago when he said he was allegedly going to AA, but in reality, he was impersonating Dad and fraudulently requesting checks over the phone to pay his bills out of Dad’s account and taking out credit cards in Dad’s name.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how anyone can do that to their own family.”

“Me, neither. Dad gave me a card on his SuperAmerica Visa, and I never used it for anything but gas when it was like a buck a gallon, or sometimes I bought prescriptions for the boys when I was a single Mom back when Ashe lived here, and I didn’t have any health insurance. But I always called Dad first, and I would NEVER have opened an account in Dad’s name.”

“Yeah, I know. Wasn’t that card one of them that Danny ran up?”

“Yep. Jacked it up to around $4,000, and Dad had to close the account.”

Jack and I talked for a few more minutes about the Arnold Classic he was coming to town to attend in March. I invited him to stop by for dinner or lunch or something, and we said our goodbyes.

So, there you have it, ladies, and gents, the latest on the enigma otherwise known as my brother, Danny. Even though we haven’t spoken in two years, and I honestly don’t care whether I ever see him again because the thought is just too painful, I do hope this recent endeavor to break up with drugs and alcohol forever is legitimate.  However, every time I see Jack’s name/number on the caller i.d., I fear it’s that call…the one punctuated by Danny wearing a toe tag in some morgue somewhere in South Carolina, but I continue to pray every night that such won’t happen, that a miracle will occur, and Danny will finally be drug free.

For an amusing post about Jack, check out: Post #29 – The Prick, the proctologist and Pigin English found at this URL:

And that’s all I have to say about that –

Over and out from Crazytown…

TenaciousBitch and company…

*Ashe was my second husband/my son Max’s father who died in 2005. He’s mentioned in several posts including:  Post #58 Ashe, the sex god parked upon this URL:

and #75 – About Ashe’s logic at:

Post #82 – Star Award/Blog of the Year!!

Posted in dating, Family, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 3, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

A few days ago, I found out that I was honored with a STAR AWARD and nominated for Blog of the Year!  Yes, I was TOTALLY thrilled 🙂 :), to say the least. I’d like to publicly thank Tinatimebomb for giving me a STAR. And Tina is among the writers that I follow, but I can’t find your URL on my LIST, and every time I click on your name, I land on Cherry Berry’s site…so I apologize your blog isn’t listed. Feel free to email me or comment with your blog address, so I can add it!

That said, I’d also like to thank Cherry Berry Lemon Lime at  …. for her part in nominating me for the Blog of the Year Award.

The ‘rules’ for this award are simple:

Select another blog or other blogs who deserve the ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award;

  1. Write a blog post and tell us about the blog(s) you have chosen – there’s no minimum or maximum number of blogs required – and ‘present’ them with their award;
  2. Include a link back to this page Blog of the Year 2012’ Award at the Thought Palette and provide these ‘rules’ in your post (please don’t alter the rules or the badges!)
  3. Let the blog(s) you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share the ‘rules’ with them
  4. You can now also join our Facebook group – click ‘like’ on this page ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award Facebook group and then you can share your blog with an even wider audience
  5. As a winner of the award – please add a link back to the blog that presented you with the award – and then proudly display the award on your blog and sidebar … and start collecting stars…

There are stars to collect! Yes, there are stars to collect!

Unlike other awards which you can only add to your blog once – this award is different!

When you begin you will receive the 1 star award, and every time you are given the award by another blog, you can add another star! There are total of 6 stars to collect.

You can check out your favorite blogs, and even if they have already been given the award by someone else, you can still award them again and help them to reach the maximum 6 stars!

For more information check FAQ on The Thought Palette

Copy and paste the rules to your blog and pass them on, time is running out.

Therefore, I’d like to give a nod to the blogs below that I also think deserve the BLOG OF THE YEAR AWARD:

….who very bravely discusses her life with other women…

…whose musings about life as a stay-at-home-dad are always engaging!

…who always has such insightful posts.

…whose prose and ponderings are always thought-provoking.

…an interesting young lass discussing the joys and woes of living in the state of my birth (WV)…

…who always writes openly and honestly about her love life and often says things that we all think, on occasion, but aren’t always willing to admit!

…whose posts are thoughtful and breath life into one’s spiritual blahs, so to speak… 🙂

…who offers REALLY awesome recipes…

….whose adventures in Internet dating make me VERY glad to be an old married lady.

…whose discussion on life as a teenager living on a farm that does NOT have electricity are very frank, often amusing and always entertaining. And I commend her willingness to live such a 19th century life!       

whose photography is always breathtaking….

and last but not least –

…who nominated me and deserves a nomination herself – especially given her awesome content.  Her titles alone are worth stealing :)… (i.e. It’s not the size of your boobs or your jeans that matter)…

And those are my nominees! Congrats to all! 🙂

TenaciousBitch and her band of truth-spouting hippies…