Maybe I can be a stand-up comic... & The story of Mr. Seven Thighs & Dick Fitzwell

I decided recently, after about a years worth of lusting, that maybe I could be a stand-up comic. I saw a comedy central special, with Russell Brand, this March. He was my kind of weird, my kind of goofy, & my kind of funny, certainly. If you have yet to encounter him, do look him up. I promise, you'll either love him or hate him. After seeing him on TV, I thought to myself, hmm...If this putz can do it, why can't I? I started brainstorming immediately after the performance ended. Within the next few days I began writting. I'm going to share my first bit with you here. If you happen upon this, and choose to read, please share your thoughts. Even if is just to say, "this sucks", I want to know.

My first authentic, (food, clothing, and shelter providing), job was at a KFC in Del City, Oklahoma. I was trained for the typical peon jobs. As it turned out, I was either so extraordinarily good or so colossally bad, that I was quickly moved in to the delivery section. I took orders over the phone, and organized which order to send out with and which, and what driver would take them. Like any other customer service type job you get regulars. I’d like to begin with one such person, MR. SEVEN THIGHS. One evening he called to place his regular order. I answer the phone in my perky phone voice. A voice you'd liken to a phone sex operator trying to sell chicken to Purdue.

“Thank you for calling KFC, this is Sarah, how may I help you?” I paused briefly & continued.
“I’m very well, and yourself?” Again I pause, awaiting responce. It was Mr. Seven Thighs calling for his regular order.
“Good. Can I get your number real quick, so I can bring up your address...thanks. Now let me make sure I’ve got this right, you want an 8 piece original recipe chicken- 7 thighs & 1 leg?”

It's important at this point to note the destructive nature of this particular order. To procure 7 thighs, you must defile 4 chickens, leaving them in quite awkward state, to say the least. Not only does this cause disruption to the chickens, the cook is none too happy either. Besides his natural inclination to protect chickies, there is progection sheet he must obey. The cook has to have so much of each flavor chicken available at any given hour. The magical computer spits it out every day, the chicken frying bible of sorts, really.

“Ok. I’m going to put you on hold for a minute, so I can find out exactly when I will be able to get that to you, hot and fresh. Ok, just a moment.” I put him on hold. Mr. Seven Thighs has had his order wrecked so many times. I was always extra careful to get it right.

I turned away from the phone and headed towards the cook, Richard, who was putting chicken in to the marinater. It can be easy to upset a cook with an order that will snatch the thighs out from under his poultry. I approached with caution, in my most demure posture, hanging my head a bit, perhaps I'd bat an eyelash or two. I glided across the floor, as lady like as my clutzy nature would allow. I began my manic rant...

"I’m sorry Richard. Mr. Seven Thighs is on the phone and wants his regular order".
Richard raised his head from his work, smirked, shook his head and returned to his task at hand.

Richard look up from his marinater, with a quizical smile, and spoke, now with a keenly affeminet voice.

"Sure, no problem. Anything for you Sarah!" We had a goofy comraderry, bound by mutual admiration of our common insanity.
"Thanks Richard", said, in a voice to mimic his own flamming one. I turned to walk back to the phone, when I realized I had one more question.

I turned back toward him, and put on my telephone voice.

“When do you think you’ll have 7 hot fresh original recipe thighs and a leg up?”

"It’ll be up in ten minutes", he said with a little smile. (Still attending to his marination thirsty babies.

My speech return to its previous manic jubillation.
"Awesome! Chicken will be up in 10 minutes, driver will be back in 10 minutes. Mr. Seven Thighs will have his order in 15-20. Woo Hoo!"
I turn to get back to my phone, once again, with such joy at this lovely news, I was skipping. But, 1 ½ skips in I heard "Thighs" Richard had spoken.

Thighs? I thought...Jesus, what's wrong. I cringed and spun back towards him.
"What Richard?"
As I turned & spoke, I glimpsed something odd. There stood Richard, (his arms extended forward, palms facing skyward with a raw thigh resting on each of them. He looked as a man offering up his first born in sacrifice to God himself. When he saw that I was paying attention, he turned his head to see me squarely, and then he spoke again.
"Thighs... I love thighs", he said glowing. He now turned to face me, and continued.Whilst he began his following declaration he grasped the thighs, moving his hands deftly parallel to his ears and declared,
"Especially on my ears". Immediately follwing "ears" he closed his eyes and made a gross tongue display.

Being quite pleased with himself, he began laughing and doing a little jig (clearly pleased with his performance). Now I, having been the most naïve 19 year old on earth, did not get it. Despite that, I had a good, short, chuckle at his little dance. Also, I'd hate to offend this, now clearly unstable fellow. I spun on one food to return to the phone. No longer skipping, but still pleased. My foot raised into a step when he spoke again.
"Dick".
Good God, what is he talking about now? What the heck is wrong with him? He’s nuts. Remember not to be alone with this one. I put my foot down and turned back to face him.
"What?", I snapped.
He spoke again, now wearing a real shit eating grin.
"Fitzwell..."he said(standing as though he was 007)he inhaled deeply on an imagined cigarette, exhaling through his nostrils, as it should be done. Richard continued, "Dick Fitzwell, that’s my name."
He immediately spun into a roaring bout of laughter.

I may not have gotten the thighs & ears joke, but this I got. I laughed myself to the point of hyperventilation & beyond. My abdomen wrenched with pain. I struggled to get myself quieted and back to Mr. Seven Thighs, still on hold. I quelled my hysterics as best I could, to complete our conversation.

Apparently my ability to stifle myself was lacking. As soon as I said hello to Mr. Seven Thighs, laughter took over me once again. My laughter echoed on the phone line as I spoke.

"Hi again. You’ll have your order hot and fresh, at your door in 15 to 20 minutes sir. Thank you. Bye now" If Mr. Seven Thighs had any weaknesses in his self esteem when he rang me up, my hysterical closing to our conversation, surely made Swiss cheese of them!

I don’t know how long exactly it took for me to get the thighs and ears joke, but it was quite awhile. Come to think of it, I've never FULLY gotten IT!

Be thankful for all life's gifts

This past weekend I got terrible news from an old friend. Her husband had died in a car accident. I met this her a little over ten years ago in Oklahoma. I had gotten a job at a local KFC where she was working. We had a couple odd commonalities. Our birthday's were two days apart (same year), and both our mothers lived in New Jersey. I know it sounds lame, but I was in the realm of the unknown, and it comforted me. But that's pretty much where our similarities ended. (well, accept that typical typical Leo stubbornness)

We both turned nineteen that summer. She had already had a beautiful little boy (he was not yet a year old). I, on the other hand, was very new too dealing with the opposite sex, and children were no where on my scope. The father of her baby was in an out of the picture, and in and out of jail. Before 1999 began, I was thrown out of my residence, and moved in with my boyfriend. Lets just say, at this point in both of our lives, there was never a dull moment. Betty was a good friend to me, when I had few. Her strength, work ethic, and being such a good mom (at her age) was a huge inspiration to me. She continues to inspire me.

I have not seen her in about eight years. A year or so ago, we came into contact again via my space. I was back in NJ, of course, and she had moved back to Arkansas near her dad. She had gotten married (to a good man, by all accounts) They had had a little girl together and he had adopted her two boys. Beth had gone back to school and become a nurse. Are you seeing why she inspires me? So needless to say, we've stayed in contact. Sunday I got a bulk send in my email saying only that her husband had died.

I never dreamt I could be so upset by the death of someone I'd never met. Just the thought of how horrible this was for Betty and for her children. It has been so long since I've seen her, but all I wanted to do was give her a hug. I her to know I cared, even though there was nothing I could do, and I would never understand her pain. So I did the only thing in my power to do, I went shopping for a sympathy card. After reading and reading, I found one that was not presumptive, pushy or completely devoid of emotion. When I got home that afternoon, I saw that his funeral would be the following day. I very much wanted to avoid sending her a card that would arrive after the funeral and viewings were over. I went online and sent her a potted peace plant to the funeral home. As I'm filling out the CC info on the florists website, I started crying. I do not cry easily. I cried off an on for about half an hour. I hated that she had this devastation thrust upon her. I hated feeling helpless. I hated crying about this. I hope this can give you all some prospective on how good our lives are. Let us all be thankful for all of our gifts.

Please, if you pray, please pray for Betty and her family.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The opposite sex: preference or racism?

I'm one of those people who thinks way to much. Surely if you've read this blog before, you know this. But, I've had this one thought banging around my brain for awhile. Perhaps, its a guilt place holder. You know, when I don't have anything pressing to feel guilty for, it just pops up on the front burner. At any rate, I need some input.



Everyone has turn-ons and turn-offs when it comes to attraction to the opposite sex. Build, hair or eye color, voice, mannerisms, can flip the switch from yeah to ney. Are these preferences really prejudices? Lets really look at this, there are definitely women who will not even consider dating a man shorter then themselves, and many men don't want to date a women taller then them (hahaha). Most of us don't like to think ourselves guided by whats on the surface, but it gets us all to some extent.

So here's my personal issue: I'm only attracted to men of my own race. I think this is often true, but most people aren't wasting time thinking on this. This keeps getting put to me often lately, as my mother has decided me an old maid. I swear every man she sees is a possible mate for me. I don't want to relive the string of odd balls she's found to be good for me, but they are always outside my race. If I was attracted to someone I wouldn't blow it off if they were another race, it just hasn't happened. Why is this bugging me? Is it just my nagging need to worry about something or to be hard on myself? Or, am I just a closeted bigot?

Rant on Hate

I'm going to do something different in this post. I try to keep my politics to my other blog, but the point of this blog has it's roots in politics, so here we go. This Monday, of course, we elected a new president, a man of color, Barack Obama. No matter how you feel about him winning the highest office in the land, based on his politics, he won. Despite our country being full of moronic racists assholes, he won. We all have different prejudices. We'd be lying to ourselves to think that we don't. This is mine. I am extremely prejudiced against racist people. It is very hard for me to tolerate this type of person. To my own detriment, at times, I will tell anyone what I think of them and their warped opinions. I grew up in a family that taught me to be colorblind. Until I was near middle school age, I had never imagined that there were people out in the world that actually still discriminated against people based on race. Before then, it was history to me. People harboring this kind of hate within themselves repulse me. And now, let me get to the reason I've set off on this rant.

My mother and I went to do a cleaning job today (as we do 3 days a week). I must note now, my mother has a HUGE amount of friends, and double the acquaintances. One such people, today, felt obligated to send mom a barrage of text messages on her phone. Each one, a more grotesque representation of racism through attempted humor. Upon hearing, what would end up to be the most tame of the messages, I was thoroughly disgusted. My frustrated response was (more hateful then I'd actually act on) that someone needed to burn a cross on her lawn. After hearing the others I was ready to go beat the crap out of her. Not likely to happen, I do strive for peace LOLhahahhahahahhahaha. No really I do.

I guess, besides my rant on assholes here, the message I'm trying to convey is: Speak up when people are being jerks. Not saying anything, when someone is telling a racist joke or complaining about people based on race or religion. Complacency breeds hate just as spreading the evil thoughts does. Have the balls to tell people how you really feel. The haters aren't afraid of the repercussions to there speech, neither should we.

(I'll read any comments, but if they are hateful, they'll be swiftly deleted)

Thank for reading
sarah

Knock Knock, remember me?

Let me just start by saying, I feel like crap. I've spent the last 3 days feeling rotten physically, had a cold. Something happens to me when my body gives into a cold or flu, I can't get away from my brain. In case I ever have the opportunity to forget about being bipolar, being sick always throws it back in my face.

I take medication for it, monitor my blood, do all the crap I'm suppose to do, but like any other problem, the solutions are not full proof. Like other, "normal", people, fever can make my mind play tricks on me, slow down my thoughts, make me act a little goofy, whatever. But for me, a fever, or a dose of cold medicine gives me a really quick jolt of mania. With my particular type, I don't get to have those days on end highs, with a hard crash down. I have days on end down with a couple minutes or hours of mania. its really easy to forget what it feels like to fly like that. Its that feeling of flying that keeps so many bipolar patients from taking meds. From discussions with friends (who've used multiple forms of speed) say the feeling is quite similar to cranking.

at any rate, cold medicine, on occasion triggers mania in me. Its a roller coaster. 10,000 things with 100's of possibilities to be found in each, charging through your skull. thoughts so many, so fast, its like trying to catch raindrops as to retain the totality of the idea. It feels like a tiny glimpse at our phenomenal brains capabilities. mind boggling, literally. Unfortunately when your body cant keep up with your brain, watch out. What a trip!!! your body seems asleep and i i feel some sort of in between awake and asleep, and my brain just keeps flying. It's truly disconcerting, I've never been so happy to be awoken as when this sort of thing happens.

If you cant tell by my writing, I'm still feeling some residual effects from the medicine. i will surely come back when I've returned to a more average state of mind, to clear up some of the craziness here.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, when my normal insanity has reclaimed supremacy.

What a week!

Tuesday we put one of my grandfathers horses to sleep. He had bought him as a 6 month old in Florida, where he'd also live and train for the next year. He came up here as a two year old. (earliest legal age to race a thoroughbred). He had to unremarkable starts at the Atlantic City Race Course (before it became little more then an OTB). At ages 3 and 4 he won a single race with a half dozen others finishing in the money. At 4 he began to have back pain of an unexplained origin. Never was a horse so pampered. He had acupuncture, acupressure, magnetic therapy, massage, ultrasound therapy, still he was sore. So he had the vet start testing. He had a nasogastric scope to check for lesions anywhere in his digestive track that might cause pain, x-rays of all his legs, 8 angles of each, as well as numerous others. Finally, my grandfather decided he'd come home to our house for a rest, and a 2ND and 3rd opinion from other vets. Our vet at the time looked at the x-rays and laughed. I brought the horse out and he looked at him. He new right away what the problem was. He prescribe a course of treatments to remedy it, along with instruction for maintenance for his transition back to work. I implemented his directions for 8 months after which we was back to perfect shape. Well, perfect shape, and about 400 pounds overweight, but what do you want?lol. He went on race again at age 5,6, 7, and 8. He won 3 more races, and had many many other finishes in the money. His career ended with a devastating bow (sever tendon strain)to his right fore leg, during a race. Because of a smart jockey, and the fast action of a bi stander, he was saved from certain euthanizing. He returned home again with a year of stall rest ahead. After finishing his recuperation, he began his new job of a riding horse. I used him to teach riding lessons on for 3 years before he began to emphatically express his distaste for students. He went back to a riding horse. He had developed, overtime, ulcers, and very ossified arthritis throughout his skeleton. We managed his pain success fully, and he was completely retired from any riding, for the last few years. This last year he started getting sarcoma tumors, having a very hard time keeping on weight, developed a very downtrodden attitude, and in the last 2 months has gotten more and more lame each day. That is what has brought us here this Tuesday. He was 14 years old. (ancient in the wild, mid age in domestication) He was my grandfathers favorite. My grandfather passed away in 2003, watching the horse decline, and finally putting him to sleep was incredibly difficult. It was like saying good bye to part of my grandfather, again.

I have been around horses since I was 8 years old. They are fragile animals, and quite often have to be euthanized because of infirmity or accident. This has happened over and over in my life for the past 21 years. I have become very numb to death with time, understandably I think.

I have watched more then one horse draw there last breath, I've found very old animals in the morning, after they've died in sleep. But this, saying good bye to THIS horse, was not the same. Tuesday I held his lead rope and stroked his forehead as our vet drew that familiar blue liquid into a large syringe and injected him. Most horses begin to fall before the needle is removed fully. My boy stood for a good 10 seconds. He has always been so tough. I couldn't hold back my tears any longer, though i did my best to stifle them. I sat next to his head as he lie there drawing what would be his last breaths. His heart still fought. Finally the breath stopped. Our vet checked for his heart beat, and it was gone, he was gone. As the vet stepped away from him, my muffled cries turned to sobbing. My mother was there and walked the vet out. I collapsed on my beloved animal crying and stroking his face, and babbling things to him. I laid there until my mom returned about 5 minutes later. I stood up and really looked at him. Even in his poor condition, blood dripping from the injection site, excrement being released, he was beautiful to me and now he was gone. We found some blankets and covered him until we had help bury him later that night. I walked to the house less part of myself. I am grateful I was able to know this awesome animal, to care for him all of these years, and ultimately, to relieve him of a life of pain. I will thoroughly miss him.

Back by popular demand :+)

Hello out there!

I've apparently been so busy and scatter-brained, that Rich, (of all people) has gotten back to my blog before I have. Have no fear. I am alive. The last few weeks have been a bit hectic, and my brain has been moving in slow motion.


Last Saturday I got my FAVORITE cousin to meet me for lunch. He's a lawyer for the VA in DC. He was up with some chums to Atlantic city for labor day weekend and we met at a diner between AC and my house. We could not have grown up more differently, we're not related by blood, but we are so much alike. He was an air force brat living all over the world before he was a teenager. I've still yet to leave the country. He got a perfect score on his AC T's, I got a near perfect score on my GED, lol. he had 2 brothers, i grew up an only child (sister was adopted after i was grown and moved away) He got a full scholarship to OU plus allowance, I made payments to the Stratford Career institute for my mail order Vet Tech course. He graduated from Georgetown law last spring, I have heard of Georgetown. So we have no reason to be alike, least of all now that we're adults. But we are. We could have sat and BSed in that dinner all day long. I love that kid. I lived with his family when i was 18/19 for about 9 mos. he really became more like a brother to me then anything. We hadn't really talked alone since his mom threw me out of there house almost 10 years ago. Long story, basically she's a psycho. But I had an awesome time, I didn't want the afternoon to end. A few years ago I wouldn't have had the never to ask him to meet me for lunch. It's not that he hasn't always been awesome to me, I just felt guilty, as if my having lived with them back then, had made a negative impact on his home life. I'm sure that it did for awhile. I guess as you grow up, you realize, you are not the be all and end all. So I'm really grateful for our visit and I think we'll do it again soon.


My other excitement was a job interview. I had posted my resume on monster and applied for a few part time jobs. One was a data entry position at Burl. Coat factories corp office. A few weeks after I had applied i got a message on my phone from a personnel lady there. I returned the call. She told me the p/t data entry position had been filled but she wanted to interview me for an allocator job-Full time. Me being right into interview mode, paid no attention to the full time part, and told her I'd be interested in interviewing for the position, thanking her for thinking of me, blah blah blah. Since I've been working exclusively on the farm for the past few years, my corporate wardrobe was lacking. Of course this was the week of the 10 hour days with the baby. Needless to say, time to prepare a suitable outfit for this interview rolled over to the next week. My interview was scheduled for this past Thursday. Wednesday night, at 7pm i was up to my elbows in close at a Ross. I have lost a little more then 30 pounds since the last time I had to buy anything more then work clothes. I had to try everything on. I hate that, and the shopping itself isn't that hot either. i got so tired after i tried on the first million things that didn't fit right, I just rushed through and grab a bunch of things that matched each other. I tried them all on Thursday morning while the baby was bouncing away in his jumparoo. i found some combination that worked. (so i get to return the rest and get my money back YAY)

The interview was at 3pm. My mom took the baby and I went. The interview was pretty intense, at least for me it was. First I had to take a math test. I am not good at math, but I'm good at the simple business stuff from working in retail. I aced it, woohoo. there were two open positions and i was ultimately interviewed my 4 people. Seem a little much to me, but whatever.
During the last interview, i started to get tired. I was up at 6 working in the barn, then cleaning up the house, baby got there at 8:30, had him until2:15 when i left for the interview. As the woman was talking I started to panic. What is wrong with me? What in God's name made me come to this interview? I am freaking nuts if i think I can get up earlier then six to get all the morning BS done, get home from work around 6 and start more manual labor, shoving something in my mouth around 8, sleep walking through a shower, and crashing into bed.
Not to mention not knowing whether or not my mom was going to be able to handle having the baby until he could get into a day care.

Of course this was on the inside, and on the outside was my job interview me, smiling, making witty re tortes, asking poiniant questions, I'm good at interviews, so basically was on auto pilot. leaving me with plenty of time for my internal monologue to freak me out.

I got to the parking lot, drove to my house, and made it all the way to the bathroom before i puked. I'm deciding now whether I should write them a letter of thanks, and respectfully ask to be removed from consideration, or just wait and see if I get one of the positions, and hope everything smooths out. The odds are against me getting either of the positions, as i have not worked in that field for 8 years, and I'm sure that the other applicants are more qualified. Plus i don't have any college degree, which is apparently requested, apon my viewing of the job description. It would be awesome for me if i could get this job and hold it down. I guess I'm going to pray about it and make a decision on Monday.
I'm exhausted now, and am beginning to crash, so I'll say goodnight