Ways Grandma Distracts me.

The previous post by Cousin Jeff inspirated me to post ways Grandma distracts me. But I forgot where I was going with this, since I was distracted by the Arby's 5 for $5 commercial.

A few ways Sandra can distract me

A blog by a distraught beer drinker
by JT Pilaf

I'm still a lil' distraught over the fact that I spent $5 more than I had to at Tops yesterday buying beer Unckie knows what I'm going through, that's a 12 pack of Koch's Golden Anniv. to him. It's effected me so to the point whereas I can't even enjoy my beer now (I mean, I'll get over it... eventually). But right now, I'm sipping it, pinky out, trying to make it last as long as I can. And that's not right.

Unbeknown to Sandra, she was the reason I did not hand over my bonus card to the cashier for my discounted beer purchase. As I mentioned earlier, it was that evil cell phone, that technology for prying and "where are you?" that I had avoided for so long that finally did me in. Now, I'm no genious and can easily be distracted... it doesn't take much. One task at hand and that's all it should be.

Well, here's some other ways Sandra can distract me.

1. Dressing up in her Mary Ann outfit from Gilligan's Island. This is huge... couple that outfit with a coconut cream pie and I'm done for. I don't stand a chance. I'll take out the garbage at 4AM if I'm asked.

2. Blowing a soccer air horn directly in my ear. My only response after this happens is yelling "FIRE IN THE HOLE" and diving behind some stacked pillows by the couch. After that I don't remember my name let alone remember what I'd been doing (usually watching sports on TV).

3. Prancing around in her 2000 B.C. fir outfit (ala Racquel Welch)... I don't even know if she owns this outfit, but I've see her in it (in my dreams) and I'm just saying I've stopped mowing the lawn for 2 hours straight because of day-dreaming. It's sad.

4. Putting a chicken finger sub in purse and then running away from me. I can't think of anything else other than that chicken finger sub and eating it. I mean that's evil... she knows she can outrun me.

Eventually, I'll get over this feeling of being @#&% by Tops and their bonus card. But right now I'm still stingin' a bit inside. I'm gonna go get a beer now and try and put this whole episode behind me.

A terrible awful no-good very bad night

KDH was nestled all snug in her bed last Thursday night when her dreams of bourbon and fantasy baseball were shattered by thumping and bumping coming from the town house next door. See, there's a shared wall in these townhouses, and although I've heard thumping and bumping before, its usually of the type you just try to ignore (apartment dwellers, you KNOW what I mean).

Through my 3am foggy haze though, it quickly became apparent this wasn't a typical night, and what seemed like a very bad night for me was a whole heck of a lot worse for my next door neighbor. That "pop pop pop" I heard was NOT fireworks, and I quickly called the police.

Three minutes later, the police called to be buzzed in the front gate (that seems like a security flaw, huh?) and I stuck my head outside my house just long enough to tell them it was next door and they better hurry up and figure out what was going on. I could see and hear enough to know the police were breaking down the door. And then -- crash! Out the French doors and off the balconey on the front side of the house went a guy. Now I KNEW things were as serious as I thought they were.

Twenty more police cars showed up. They closed the street. The hook and ladder showed up. Then the crime scene investigators. Then an ambulance. The ambulance wasn't hurrying. Uh oh.

After 20 minutes of watching 157 random police officers wander around, I ventured out to get some information. The fresh faced Atlanta beat cop that I had pointed next door let me know that my neighbor was completely dead, it looked drug related or maybe a crime of passion, that the man jumping off the balcony had done the shooting, but was firmly in police custody. That's a lot of news to take in at 3:45 am.

I didn't know my neighbor at all, but I was pretty surprised to hear this -- things were always quiet next door (except for his propensity to break into gospel song at random moments of the day) and I certainly don't live in a typical "bad" neighborhood. I guess random bad things happen everywhere, and I was pretty glad I was OK and had just restocked my homestead with a fresh bottle of bourbon.

I was going to need it. My responsibilities for the rest of the evening including talking to the police detectives (who showed up in fedoras and trench coats, I kid you not), going down to Police Headquarters and making a statement (watching the official police typist hunt and peck out my sentences at a snail's pace at 4:23am nearly made ME commit a felony) and buzzing at least 743 police cars into the front gate at 15 minute intervals.

The house next door is cleaned up and already on the rental market. I plan on going to the arraingment to get the FULL story -- I am a professional researcher at heart, after all. And unexpected benefit of all of this is that my driveway next to the "murder house" is the new after work, drink a glass of wine, hangout and chat place for me and my neighbors -- none of whom I had talked to in the two years I've lived here for this event. I guess murder really brings people together!

You can watch the videos on the links below. When they say "some residents" or "some neighbors" called it in -- you can just substitute "KDH". The chick they interviewed doesn't come to the driveway parties -- she really seems to have an axe to grind with renters like me!

http://www.myfoxatlanta.com/myfox/MyFox/pages/sidebar_video.jsp?contentId=6161955&version=1&locale=EN-US

http://www.myfoxatlanta.com/myfox/MyFox/pages/sidebar_video.jsp?contentId=6159561&version=1&locale=EN-US