Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Folks, you can’t imagine the magnitude of my joy on packing up my bags to head back to America. I know. I know. Ain’t nothing much changed in the 4 weeks and 3 days since I left but hey, I’m coming back to check it out for myself to make sure y’all been holding the fort down.

I heard tale of some students protesting over yonder and getting arrested. Somebody over this way mentioned Clarence Thomas putting his hand up some woman’s skirt again. My sources ain’t verified this Thomas story with me yet, so right now, I guess I’m just spreading rumors. Y’all help me in confirming this story before I make it through customs and the U.S. Marshalls take me to the floor ready to cuff me up. I know I can count on Phil to help me out on account of a previous situation with Crazy Heifer.  Ariana had my back too, so I got myself a small posse going. I’d hate to be sitting up in the federal prison and get turned into somebody’s bitch over a slight blog misunderstanding.

Anyhow, I don’t know what kinda internet service I’ll have in my next destination, after America that is, but I hope we can continue meeting up like this. I don’t expect to be playing the guessing game of where I am next time around. Let’s just pretend I’m on a top secret mission for the government and they need me to translate southern lingo. Imagine, if you will, somebody from the south, who ain’t polished, getting elected and they called on me, Totsymae, to work out the translations when the president spoke to folks of other nations.

Matter of fact, I’ve had a few different type jobs in my span of time but there’s one I know I could never do. What I could never be is a Dog Catcher. Shit, I get scared if a dog even goes to looking at me the wrong way, let alone me trying to run up and catch one, which brings to mind a true life story you may or may not wanna hear. But here goes…

At the old house I lived in, we had a carport, meaning, it’s a spot that pretends to be a garage that you can drive into but there’s no door. Well, inside the carport is where we kept the big garbage bin that was set out twice a week for the sanitation workers. Anyhow, this particular day, the bin was full to capacity ’cause Mr Boy, who had a great talent for sleeping late, didn’t take the bin out to be collected.

Now, next to my house was this rottweiler. This mothersucker used to chase the kids when they walked to the school bus stop or played outside. They were right to be afraid ’cause he was BIG and who the hell knew the dog’s intentions? What could they do but run and scream to the top of their lungs? That neighbor of mine had three dogs that were never chained up. On this one day the trash bin was filled up, my sister was visiting and  happened to have a headache. What I gave her was a huge generic bottle of aspirin from the military store that had AAFES written over it in bold colors.  It was a right strange bottle to be taking and Sis ain’t never seen anything like it. She read the bottle and saw the aspirin were expired. Naturally, she threw the bottle out but it was in the bin in the carport.

I also have to tell you, this rottweiler had a penchant for digging in my trash. Some mornings I’d get up and trash was all over my carport. I’d be mad as fire too! At my boy for not taking the trash out and that damn dog! Well, this dog got into the bin where this huge bottle of aspirin were and licked up every last one of those pills.

Folks, the dog died within the hour. I was like, DAAAAAMN! That neighbor of mine muttered about somebody killing his dog and yeah, I was naturally a suspect, folks. It wasn’t enough that I’d gone over several times (when the dog wasn’t out and about, that is) to talk with him about tying up those damn dogs or calling the pound on him. He took that folk were afraid as a joke (cause I’d seen him snickering) and ended up with a dead dog on his hands. I plead my case before you, folks. My attempts to get him to do right were futile. I didn’t lose sleep over the crime; therefore, guilty, I was not. I close my case on owner negligence by way of accidental suicide, folks of the court. The gavel has gone down.

After the facts, you be the judge. Was I wrongfully accused and need to counter-sue for defamation of character or should I go in hiding and live the life of a fugitive? Totsy ain’t trying to be nobody’s bitch, y’all.

Read Full Post »