Now, I don’t know a whole lot about Feng Shui, but I’m thinkin’ this isn’t it:
While driving the back roads through the Ozark Mountains (aka: the Ozark Indy 500) on my way to the lake house, I passed by the house in the picture above. Whoever owns this house spent a lot of time making this big ass lawn ornament out of…skulls. There may even be a human skull or two in there, I don’t know.
I started thinking about where I was and that maybe this was a warning for Outsiders rather than art and decided it was unwise to be sitting in front of the house with a camera. The Hillbillies ’round here kinda have their own legal system going on. So I quickly snapped this picture and hauled ass (lest I become part of what appears to be an ongoing collage).
Since I am, like, the queen of weird-assed home remedies (that work), friends of mine often call me to tell me their aches and pains to see if I have any suggestions to help them.
One of these friends called me the other day. After a bit of Q & A, it was determined she had a boil. You would think the silly heifer would just go her doctor and get some antibiotics, right? Oh, negative. And why not? Well, the boil was on her ass. Right, smack-dab, in the middle of one of the cheeks on her nicely rounded boo-tay.
My much-loved, silly heifer of a friend has a new doctor (whom she has dubbed dubbed Doctor Hawt-As-Hell). She has issues with going to him and dropping trow to display the so not sexy boil on her ass.
So, cool. I told her of a home remedy to cure the ass boil. It wasn’t necessarily a holistic remedy, mind you, but it was a cure nonetheless.
Today, this same friend calls me while she’s at work in her highfalutin, ritzy office (where she makes a shit ton of money because she’s supposedly really smart…). The convo goes like this:
Here’s her snickering & whispering like she stole some shit: “Guess what?!”
“What?” I whisper back.
Still whispering, she proudly announces, “I got a piece of HAM on my ass!”
Me? I’m confused. So I say, “Oh-kayyyyy. Why do you have a piece of ham on your ass?”
Acting like I’m the idiot with part of a deli sammich stuck to my ass, she says, “Ugh! The boil, silly! You told me–“
Rolling my eyes, I cut her off with, “Dude. I said nothing about ham. I said bacon fat. I said put salt on a piece of bacon fat and strap it to your ass with a band aid. I said nothing of ham! Nor did I say wear that shit to work!”
After a brief pause for those in the conversation who have wandering minds and are terminally confused cause their ass never listens (!!!), here’s her, “Huh. Salt? I thought you said pepper. And ham and bacon are both pork, so I thought it’d work.”
“No,” I chuckle, “No ham. You want bacon fat! Just the fat; no meat!!! And I said SALT!”
“Oh.” She says. Then we both start laughing.
After our giggling dies down I whisper, “Is your ass burning?”
She practically yells, “God, YES!!!!!”
Sometimes, paying attention to those pesky details are important…