my past life as a mob wife


One of my irrational fears is being framed. This probably comes from too much crime television and novels. I was recently turned on to the podcast Serial, and I was hooked. More like obsessed. I listened to the entire 12 episodes in 1.5 days. Work was more enjoyable during this time as I was able to tune out most everything, success! But the podcast only makes me feel like my “irrational” fear really isn’t that irrational. Or maybe who you hang out with is a huge deal, like my parents always stressed growing up.

I have always thought that if I had another life, I was probably a mob wife in it. Reason 1 is my fear of being framed. The only explanation of this fear is my potential mob wife past life. I have seen Goodfellas enough times to know that it is standard business for one mob to frame another mob for a whack job. I mean most fears stem from experiences, whether people realize it or not. So it makes even more sense that I was in-fact a mob wife. The evidence is just stacking up. Reason number 2 is that I literally get involuntary chills up my body when a cop drives by. I have not been in trouble with the law and there is nothing that I could even imagine I could get in trouble for, except that I stick it to The Man by getting my inspection done on the morning of the first day of the month after my inspection sticker expired. Well there was one minor run-in with the law as an 18 year old at a party. Everyone ran and my respect/fear of authority kicked in and I turned myself in. I’ll save that for another time because it is hilarious. I understand most people get nervous when they see cops even if they aren’t doing anything wrong, but I get an uncontrollable chill up my spine. Even siren noises can trigger this response. Reason 3 I think mob wife, versus straight OG, is the aforementioned southern respect for all authority figures, deserved or not, no questions asked. I was probably more along for the ride as mob wife.

So my fear of being framed stems from my past life as a mob wife. And now that I know real, everyday people really can get framed, I’m on edge this week worried about who I might know that would be capable of something like that. Also the court system is totally jacked. That is another topic. The lesson of the story NEVER lend your phone, car etc. to that morally questionable friend or family member that you think would help you dispose of a body if you called them, instead of turning you in. Because that person could also frame you.

Anyone who would like to discuss the podcast, I would be overjoyed. Going to bed last night I was tossing and turning from all the thoughts in my head, so Adam asked what they were about. The first one I voiced was “whether Adnan is innocent”, then the usual work, wedding, diet bs. I’m pretty sure that was not the response he was expecting.



Who’s been smoking in my car!?


I’m still extremely confused by the cigarette butts I found on my car floor board this morning as I was leaving for work. Did Adam smoke in my car and not use the ashtray? Did I? Wait, we don’t smoke. Does my car even have an ashtray? A creepy feeling that a stranger was in my car without me knowing sweeps over me. And a certain I-haven’t-bathed-in-a-while stench is overwhelming.

Did I leave my car unlocked, again!? Adam will be furious. This would not be the first time I left my car unlocked. The first time I found all my stuff rummaged through, yet no windows or apparent struggle to get in was evident. My flossers, nail polish and random crap weren’t good enough for the intruder, but the stupid power drill Adam still obsesses about being stolen was. Maybe they only took the drill because of the 2 cases of bullets I keep in my car to make people think I own a gun deterred the intruder from rummaging further. The way I see it, had I locked my door, they would have busted my window and it would have been a much bigger loss for me. Adam said if I had locked it, they would have just moved on to the next car to see if that person was dumb enough to leave it unlocked. He may have said it nicer, he is a sweetheart. But the dumb comment felt implied. We just agree to disagree on this one.

The ONLY logical conclusion I can come up with based on the evidence is that a homeless person slept in my car last night, and smoked in it. And did not have the decency to use the ashtray! (If there is one) This is Houston. And I live close to downtown. This explanation makes perfect sense.

When I get to work and proclaim “a homeless person was smoking in my car last night, and slept in it”, the immediate response I get is did I not lock my car? As if this was my fault! Maybe I need to start locking my car. Or put some more bullets in there.


After thought (also known as P.S. for some reason that I will go google after this): I noticed I use a lot of contractions when I write. Probably because that is the way I speak. I went back and changed a “wouldn’t” and “weren’t” to “would not” and “were not” , just to change it up a bit. And this P.S. just taught those that aren’t as familiar with contractions (not from the south, I assume).

OH, mama come get your young-ins


I grew up in Buda, TX (often pronounced Buddha even after hearing it correctly pronounced). Home to Cabela’s – the only largest attraction in Buda. And if you are just now learning about Cabela’s, you are welcome! Full of elaborate stuffed animal displays, guns, camo, and ostrich burgers, you will not leave disappointed if just going for a visit after reading this. You will probably leave empty handed though because very few people outside of Buda actually need these things. I can see this quickly turning into an essay about Cabela’s – so moving on.

Example of a display you could find at Cabela's. Perfect photo op.

Example of a display you could find at Cabela’s. Perfect photo op.

I now live in Houston, TX – home of humidity, traffic jams, and fast drivers (LOVE IT). Fast drivers that is. The cops are WAY too busy catching drug dealers and human traffickers (did you know Houston is a mecca of human trafficking?? I was shocked to learn this) to worry about people like myself going over the speed limit. It is pretty much a free-for-all on the roads. I absolutely dread driving anywhere outside of Houston because people drive like total shit everywhere else, and are offended by aggressive driving. My younger sister moved to the outskirts of Houston and has called me in tears and total breakdown mode because “no one is letting me over sissy!”. WTH (“what the hell” for people that are horrible with acronyms like me).

“Amy, there is traffic. People are moving slow. Just put the nose of your car in the other lane and work your way over. You can’t get hit at that speed.”

In hind sight that might have been bad advice, but it always works for me, and the rest of Houston. Needless to say she also follows the speed limit, and I bet you wouldn’t have guessed, she is a teacher! Career stereotypes exist for a reason, people. Despite our obvious personality differences, probably stemming from birth order, we are the best of friends and she followed in my footsteps a lot. We were both on the dance team, both went to A&M, both are now in the Houston area, similar taste in style, you get the point.

My baby sister has spent most of her life trying to be the opposite of Amy and me. And since Amy and I are pretty different, I don’t really know what the opposite of that is. Things that come to mind are that she loves tie-dye (the hippie kind), never wanted to go to A&M (ugh), and prefers cats (self-explanatory). She is young and molding her own path, so more updates to come as she progresses. Sharon and I look like we could be twins. Although she joined the swim team when she moved to Florida with my mom (totally opposite of Amy and I) so now is much more buff and tan than I have ever been. She does not think before speaking, which is hilarious (at times). Last Christmas Sharon was back in Texas and the Family was together. One of the kiddos said something about their mom’s favorite word, some innocent, sweet word I can’t even remember. Sharon’s rebuttal was “I’m not allowed to repeat my mom’s favorite word.”  HILARIOUS. Love her.

I grew up SUPER conservative. Typical Baptist-Republican-Texan family, but worse. I wasn’t even allowed to watch Friends!! So naturally I watch it every night before bed now. My childhood is a blur of raising animals, playing outside with my sisters (mom locked the door often to “encourage” using our imaginations outside), doing things behind my parent’s back that everyone else was allowed to do, and Amy getting in trouble everyday. I never got in trouble that I recall. In retrospect, sneaking around to do normal things sure did keep me out of trouble. Instead of sneaking around to have sex and experiment with drugs, I had to sneak around to watch the nude scene in Titanic (true story). I wasn’t even AWARE of the bad stuff going on. That is how prudish my best friend and I were. My parents were married all of my childhood so any potential damage from divorce has only made me funnier.

My fiancé often refers to me as a country bumpkin, which is extremely offensive, especially since we are from the same damn town! Not only are we both from Buda, we both attended A&M. But we did not know each other during this time – which was for the best. You have to really know me to see my country side. Or at least I always thought that. I don’t think anyone that sees me at work would ever guess? That is my goal at least. Adam always tries to pin stupid sayings on me just because I said one, ONE time! One day he said “OH mama come get your young-ins.” I crack-up and say what the hell? He then proceeds to blame ME for saying that and introducing it to him. Never in my life have I said that. Well I mean before he taught it to me. I say it all the time now. If I find myself ever saying “OHHH”, then “mama come get your young-ins” just naturally follows.  Turns out the retired dad of his small company is where he heard it, not me! I started to really question my roots when he had me thinking for a brief second that I might have possibly said that without remembering, tequila induced memory loss maybe? For now I’m safe from the nut house (and AA). I’m one country bumpkin saying way from locking myself up though.


After thought: I just discovered “cat breading” (not to be confused with breeding) is a thing, and hilarious.