Two Lesbians and a Cow

My Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Mon, 18 Oct 2021 18:32:00 +0000

For those of you have known me for a long period of time, you know that I've had a lot of potential dads. My biological father divorced my mom when I was 5. I knew him very little because he was stationed away from me for some period of time until the divorce and even after, when he was out of the military, I saw him only one time until I was 8. He lived 2 miles away from me from me during this time of 5 to 8. I didnt talk to him until I was 18 and reached out to him to give him my senior pic. He had tried to contact me at 16 but I was not having any of it at the time. When he was asked to give me up a when my 1st stepfather wanted to adopt me at 8. He did.

My 1st stepfather came in the picture when I was 6. He ended up molesting me from 6 to 14 when he was divorced.

My 2nd stepfather was a good man. He raised me from 16 til I was around 30. I cant be exact sure when he was divorced, but 30 is close because it was before my Grandma Betty passed away. I have talked to him maybe twice since the divorce and that is all. I have always reached out to him. He never reached out to me.

My Dad, who everyone knows as Earl Wayne Self, came into my life one month after the divorce was final. I'm quite sure I was not the most welcoming daughter. In fact I may have be down right disrespectful and ugly to him.

My dad was a part of my family since I was born. His mom and dad, Art and Myrna Self who were folks just like my PaPa and Grandma Betty, often played dominoes with each other and my dad was also around. He was my Uncle Steve's best friend and mourned with the rest of my family when Uncle Steve was killed in a car accident on Christmas Eve in 1973 when I was 2.

I dont remember seeing my Dad until I stepped off the plane and saw him on the way to the baggqge claim on my way to see my Grandma slowly die at Grady Memorial Hospital, a joke hospital in Chickasha, OK. I definitely did not approved of the recent marriage so close to my 2nd stepfather 's divorce so I was very cold and distant I'm sure. My Grandma Betty was dying. That I why I had come home. And I was completely distressed and sobbing but that is no excuse for the way I treated him tho. Dad, if I never told you I'm sorry. I so very deeply am.

Over the years it became very clear he was one of the best men I had ever met. I learned to know of his unconditional love for those he loved the most. He extended that to me and I'm so very grateful that I finally accepted his love. Even calling him Dad instead of Wayne recently.

My favorite memory of my Dad was when Jen, my wife,, and I had already received our Christmas present prior to the opening of Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. He was so distraught when he found out that we didn't have a Christmas present to open under the tree the day before Christmas. He immediately went out and bought us a king size fuzzy super soft blanket. To this day, it is on Jen and I's bed and will be until the threads fall out. He had recently given me his Ping golf clubs, one of his most prized possessions, and told me to keep them until he needed them back. They are one of my most prized possessions until the day I die.

Talk to anybody and they talk about him in the same breath they talk about his beloved father Art and my precious PaPa; men that have been the only father figures in my whole life and the most influential man in my life until my Dad came along.

I will miss him greatly. I don't question God why, I merely accept that it is God's will no matter how bad it hurts. I love you Dad. Until we meet again. Rest in Peace. Tosh.

COVID-19 and America

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Wed, 29 Apr 2020 20:52:00 +0000

April 29, day something of, I'm too lazy to count the days I've been locked up, 2020. Been here in quarantine for almost two months and finally inspired to write something...anything. So what inspires me to finally write on day something of, again I'm too lazy, living thru a pandemic? Something to tell my great grand-kids about. America.

Let me start with this premise: I have been following the Coronavirus since it was first reported in November, 2019. I have listened only to scientists. No politician or political viewpoint is responsible for the following thots. With that in mind, here is my take on how we, as Americans, have responded to COVID-19 thus far.

For me, America is not only home. It is also the nation I chose to serve, under the principles of our forefathers. When I say I'm an American today, I am proud of being one. I'm blessed to be in a nation that has pulled together to combat what might have been a once in a century natural disaster. It still may be remembered as such, but man, it was well on its way to be of much more epic proportions. But America said, "Here, hold my beer,” and look at what we have accomplished to date. F.U. Corona.

There are much more challenging days ahead of us. But I believe we as a nation can come together and make our great nation whole again. That premise is based on this: We will come together, as Americans, again and again and again and again until we beat this thing.

Our nation has suffered great wars, previous depressions, and other natural disasters. We stepped up to fight the war here from home in World War I and II. We went thru terrible times of heartache and economic turmoil during the Great Depression, and we have survived Category 4 hurricanes on the coasts and F5 tornadoes ripping thru the plains. Because of our spirit of being Americans we have triumphed thru all of those. Why? Because we have come together as a nation as a whole. not as "us vs them," but as Americans.

We have done things for each other in the past regardless of our differences. We have stared down death itself and stepped up each and every time. We have now seen our own heroes on the medical front lines risk their lives for those of others. Do you think these doctors and nurses ask before they treat their patients, are you a Republican or Democrat? Doubtful. Yet look at the hatred spewed from one American to another over these labels. We can do better.

I challenge all Americans to step forward once again and write our page in history. This is our time, our place. Let's come together and make America great in our own history. 'Merica.

Why I'm Scared for America

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Mon, 24 Feb 2020 22:18:00 +0000

My Army days were in the mid-90s from 1993 to 1997. Back then, I didn’t care whether my battle buddy was Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal. I bet the soldiers out there still don’t. Why in the world would we be so divided because of politics? What has happened to America? We fight among ourselves and in some instances while the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I feel like so much of the world is trying to divide us when we agree on many things. Think about it. What issues do you really have with your friends? Are they issues you could meet in the middle on? I bet there are more than any of us think. Yet politicians and the mass media seem to tell us otherwise. Don’t you have Republican friends that you agree with? Democrat friends that you agree with? On something?

I became a Democrat when I was in college at a small liberal arts school in southwest Oklahoma. I had plans to become a Republican because I wanted to be a rich corporate lawyer but my best friend drew me into being a Democrat with the promise of bringing change to social injustice. I find it fascinating to look at my thoughts now. I was going to be a rich Republican? How many of you feel like you’re a rich Republican? Let’s think about the social politics of the 90’s. I couldn’t even be an out lesbian in the Army. Now, do you really care about the married gay couple who moved in down the street? Have they created Sodom and Gomorrah? My guess is you don’t and they didn’t. For goodness sake, we have a gay presidential candidate who is getting tons of support!

I’m an Independent now. Well at least that’s what I have to be called in Oklahoma when I choose no party. I don’t like parties anymore. I think we have become so entrenched in these labels of Republican and Democrat, conservative and liberal that we don’t even look at the person or the issues anymore, just the party. I bet you want better health care and just want everyone to find a way to somehow give us some relief. I bet Republicans and their Democrat friends gripe together about prescription drug costs and how your mom’s social security check can’t even cover her cost of living much less her diabetic prescriptions.

So what do we do? We ask for change. We vote this politician in and that politician in making promises to enact change and then one party tries to change everything the last party implemented. All the while you and your Republican friend think it's shitty that Joe’s dad down the street still can’t afford his cancer medication so he just goes without.

We need unity. We are not Republicans. We are not Democrats. We are Americans.

That Dang Woman...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Mon, 09 Sep 2019 20:27:00 +0000

Now I have a disclaimer before I start this. My wife is my everything. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I love her more than I love my luggage. She’ll get it or you might, think Steel Magnolias; but sometimes, that woman drives me friggin crazy.

For instance, I will readily admit that I’m a backseat driver. I want to scream at you every time you let that dumb ass in the left lane merge in front of you at the merge cones. But then I remember my beloved wife and her driving skills and courtesies, and I think you’re not so bad. I think God put her on this earth to test my patience riding shotgun. Never in my life have I ever seen someone wait so long to get in the lane she needs to be in to exit the highway. She will stay in that middle line riding the driver in front of her ass until she has at least 4 cars on her left that she needs to cut off or merge into. Drives me friggin crazy.

But then there’s the fast lane. I have a terrible driving record. Probably because I race down the fast lane with every other dumb ass who has an extra $240 lying around to pay for a speeding ticket. And I detest every single one of you for going the speed limit in the fast lane. Hence when my wife drives the speed limit or below in the fast lane, I almost lose my shit. That woman will let 10 cars back up behind her while she just blares her music and strolls on down the highway. Drives me friggin crazy.

As if that wasn’t enough, she will drive 45-mph in a 75-mph speed limit behind Grandma who is in the slow lane until she reaches her destination or needs to exit. She seriously doesn’t even attempt to go into what is an empty left or right lane to pass Grandma. I. Can. Not. Deal. Did I say it drives me friggin crazy??? Smdh. Anyway, she tells me that she drives her own way and to shut my mouth, so I try. Unsuccessfully so far.

I have a major life update to share! I started volunteering at a veterans center here in Norman. I help disabled veteran’s or their spouses file claims to receive their VA Disability Compensation. It is so rewarding and has given me a purpose. I absolutely freakin love it. Come see me or give my info to your veteran friends if they need help with their claims.

Well, that’s all I got for today. Take it easy and make your light shine wherever you are. Peace out homies.

Letting Go...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Thu, 25 Jul 2019 16:01:00 +0000

I’m on a new journey. I believe that in my heart and soul. I am starting to believe in my own thoughts and values. In my own sense of self-worth. I believe that I can be happy with how I perceive myself, not how I think the world does. It’s liberating. I’m learning to appreciate that everyone has their own journey. That I have no control over other people and what they want in life. That it’s ok for their path not to continue with my own. That sometimes people are in your journey for a while and then they’re gone and that’s ok because some stay on your path and that makes all the difference in the world I’m trying to let go of my rage that caused me to hit a poor woman in the face last year. That people, including myself, make mistakes and that’s ok. I am trying to think before I speak. To not make knee-jerk reactions to my emotions. Again, I’m trying.

Jen and I just decided to buy a commuter crossover for better gas mileage and a family travel vehicle. It’s a brand spanking new Kia Sportage. Something I never would have bought in a million years a week ago. It’s replacing my new Jeep Wrangler I was getting in a few months. The one I dreamt of with one-ton axles, re-geared, gusseted, trussed, an absolute off-road monster. I wanted it in Digi-camo to honor my military service. At least a 4-inch lift (yes, I finally accepted that I am too old for a 6-inch),
37-inch tires and 17-inch blacked out steel rims. It was gonna be something else. I would have loved it.

So, my monster Jeep dream is gone for now. I’m telling myself it’s going to happen in a couple of years when we are in a better place just to keep my sanity for the moment. It’s semi-working. The point to all of this is that I am trying to let go of material things. I am trying to make decisions based on where I am in the here and now. Not in the future. I am trying to live in the moment. Accepting who I am, good, bad, ugly and being ok with it. Again, it’s liberating.

I don’t know why you read my blog. I don’t know who is and who isn’t, but I want you to know I appreciate it. I am thankful that you want to share in my life for the few minutes it takes to read one. I hope I share something that helps you on your own journey. I hope it helps you learn more about me and who I am. I hope it makes ya laff occasionally. I hope you don’t feel like you’ve wasted minutes off your life when you read it. May your journey be as blessed as mine is and may you always have peace and love in your life. Until next time, take care.

And I'd Like to Thank the Academy...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Sat, 13 Jul 2019 18:00:00 +0000

As I sit here in my bed with my cat trying to get over a sinus infection, I find myself being very appreciative this morning. For instance, I am appreciative that Katniss, my older cat, did not claw my skin off when Dawg, the kitten we just got for my youngest, jumped up on the bed at the same time as she was on the bed. To say Katniss does not care for Dawg (my son named her) is seriously so understated that I wish Katniss could talk so she could let her rage out. She hates, despises, deplores, and plots the death of Dawg every day. Of that, I am certain.

If you aren’t one of the folks who’ve been privy to my 6-month probation for assault and battery, well here is the jest of it. Last April, the day before our cruise for our friend’s wedding renewal, I walked into a tanning establishment here in OKC and punched the manager in the nose. My reason, she was being mean to the elderly lady in front of me and, gasp, wouldn’t honor my 7-days of spray tanning Groupon. Yes, that’s the jest and I received 6-months’ probation and a deferred two-year misdemeanor for assault and battery. Something that I can’t get off my record for another year, and oh, there's also the $3500 in court fees and victims’ restitution I got to spend on a landed punch instead of Jeep parts. To top that off, I couldn’t consume alcohol and was subject to daily random urine tests right as spring and summer were starting. Perfect.

For a while, I was pissed off at the State of Oklahoma for banning my consumption of alcohol. Alcohol had nothing to do with my crime? What the hell was I gonna do at parties? How was I gonna drink at the ballgame? What do you do on the weekend if you don’t consume alcohol? A lot it turns out.

So as much as it pains me to say this, thank you State of Oklahoma for finally giving this old dog some consequences for her actions. Being sober these past few months has taught me a lot. I found that you don’t need alcohol to have a good time around people who love you for who you are and not the blubbering idiot you turn into when you’re drunk. I found out that it’s ok to have a good time without a drink in my hand. That you can cure your social anxieties without overdoing it.

People who are in the know of this act of violence, often ask me if it was worth it. I usually say no, it wasn’t worth it. But as I sit here trying to get over this sinus infection so I can go to my probation’s over party with my friends tonite, I kind of think it was in the long run. To the poor girl I punched, I sincerely hope those medical bills I paid for weren’t because I broke your nose. I hope you don’t have PTSD now every time a customer gets mad at you. I’m sorry. But in the same breath I have to say thank you. I’ve relied on drinking to calm my social anxieties for years and now I don’t have to. Yes, I’m gonna go out tonite and drank it up with my friends. We are gonna party like rock stars and celebrate the end of what was 6-months of inconvenience and punishment for me. But I’m also gonna know that if one beer is enough, I’m gonna have a great time anyway. I told you I was appreciative this morning.

Right and Wrong According to Betty Spencer...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Sun, 09 Jun 2019 15:53:00 +0000

I was raised by a grandmother who was a Pentecostal Evangelist in the 1970's. Now mind you, a woman evangelist in the 70's was a rarity. She was a pioneer in her time and could bring the rafters down with her fiery fire and brimstone sermons. Her voice was a gift of God and there's no one to this day who can come close to her rendition of "I Want to Stroll Over Heaven with You." I stayed with her just about every day while my mom was working. She adored me and I her. To this day, there is no one who can compare to her in my eyes.

Grandma Betty spent her mornings in her room crying out to God to save her family and to protect her precious son Stephen who was taken away from her in a tragic car accident at the age of 16. Her Bible sat right beside her on her end table at the edge of her recliner. It was worn and covered in red, blue, and black ink marks on her favorite passages. In the back she had handwritten a letter to God begging to know what she had done to cause him to take away her baby boy. Sometimes I thot she believed God had forsaken her, but she never strayed from her faith and served her Lord until she passed away at the age of 67.

My Grandma Betty never asked me if I was gay. All she ever asked was there something I was hiding from her and from that, I believe she knew. After she had passed I asked my PaPa if he knew. His reply in his best southern voice was "Well, if you're talkin' 'bout your sexuality, I s'pose I do. The Bible says its wrong but you're my granddaughter and I love you." Neither of them probably had a clue that I left Oklahoma and joined the Army so that they didn't have to defend my sexuality in our small town home and church. I missed out on so many birthdays, anniversaries, cookouts with Grandma Betty's homemade banana ice cream and PaPa's pineapple orange sherbet. But, times were different then and I never returned to Oklahoma until they both has passed.

I wish they both had made it this long for me to feel safe coming back here. I know they would have continued to love me unconditionally regardless of any conflicts with their faith and I would have loved for them to meet my boys and wife. I think they would be very happy for me simply because I am happy and that would be all they needed to know. I know this because my grandparents taught me to love my neighbor. To judge not, lest I be judged myself. To treat others as you would want to be treated. A lot of the time, I still wonder if people are going to judge me for being gay. If they would get to know me only to find out I was gay and their opinions change. In the past week, I have definitely been proven wrong in the form of some strangers reading, liking, sharing, and sending me thoughts about my blog. They are folks I'm sure my grandmother would have loved and respected for the admiration they showed to their granddaughter. I know I do.

As it turns out, I may be the one judging others. I assume that they won't accept me for who I am once they realize I'm gay without giving them the benefit of the doubt from the beginning. I think it's time for some soul searching.

This month is gay pride month. There's a lot of celebrations going on and folks standing out from the crowds to say they are gay. I am celebrating a different kind of gay pride. The kind that comes from knowing people accept me for who I am and that being gay does not define who I am, although it is a big part of me. I've got a new outtake on life and I have many people to thank for this who have shown me their unconditional love regardless of their conflicts with my sexuality. I like it. I finally am starting to feel safe being gay in this world and for me, that is a very big deal. I mean, what else could you ask for in this life other than to be accepted for who you are. Thanks folks, for proving me wrong. I'm all the better for it.

Kids These Days

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Fri, 07 Jun 2019 12:04:00 +0000

For years, since I sort of became an adult, I have heard people say that our country is going to hell because the “kids these days” are never gonna live up to their ancestors' dreams. As I’ve watched my kids grow up into the wonderful young men they’ve become and listened to their hopes and dreams, I knew that for me, I was in good hands with kids these days. And, this past week, that further got reaffirmed when I went to the Women’s College World Series here in Oklahoma City.

For those of you who have never attended a Women’s World Series, you might not understand the significance of what I experienced this year. You wouldn’t know that hundreds of young women and men attend this event from all over the country. You wouldn’t know that sometimes you are fortunate enough to sit next to and interact with these kids and that for the last week of May and beginning of June, these kiddos and their parents can become your softball family when you are fortunate enough to sit by a fun bunch of them. This year, I had the privilege of sitting next to the future of our country in the form of a boy from Alabama and some girls from Missouri and their parents. It is something I will never forget.

These kiddos aren't degrading the game. They weren’t being disrespectful to their elders and the flag and our national anthem. Instead, they were exactly the opposite. Standing up proudly for us vets, I watched the future of our nation as they clapped and cheered for us when we were recognized at the game. I sit next to them for a week listening to their lives and how important sports was to them. How they could cheer for a team from a different state than them just because two old ladies in front of them were from Oklahoma and tremendous Sooner fans. I joked and laughed with them, poking fun at them as often as I had the chance, and watched as they cheered for their favorite players they looked up to. And it was one of the most amazing moments of my life.

I’m not worried about the future of our country. I’m not worried that someday some other little girl or boy is gonna look up to them and try to imitate their lives. Folks, we’re in good hands. We’re still raising good Americans and there’s a bright hope for our future. Thanks kiddos. You made me smile, laugh, and enjoy sports in a way I never have before. I feel safe in the stakes you will hold in the future of our nation and I am proud to say I got to experience this wonderful event with all of you. Until next time, BOOMER SOONER!!!

Mostly

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Fri, 08 Feb 2019 18:10:00 +0000

Most of the time I’m a good person. Most of the time I do the right thing. Then sometimes, I’m still as stupid as I was out surfing those cars. Case in point, my recent first and only misdemeanor conviction for assault and battery. Yep, I punched a manager of a tanning salon in the face over not honoring my Groupon and being mean to the elderly lady in front of me. The end results? Arrest warrant, hoping I wasn’t on the lam, probation, and lots and lots of mullah. Mullah that could have most definitely been used to fix my mechanically challenged Jeep. But that’s another story.

So here I am on 6 months’ probation that mostly just sux ass. I can’t drink. Not even an O-Doulle’s because apparently, they have enough alcohol in them to show up on my random alcohol and drug test I am subjected to daily. I can’t go out of state without permission. I must go to weekly therapy and yes, I know that is probably not a bad idea at all. The ONLY thing saving me is they recognize my medical marijuana card, so I do not have to stay stone-cold sober for 6 months. Was drinking involved in me punching this girl? No. It was not. But apparently, I need to be sober from alcohol for the next 6 months to prove I don’t have a drinking problem that didn’t have anything to do with my assault in the first place. Thanks Tonya. Way to go.

Forty-eight is next week. I didn’t make a new year’s resolution, but I guess one made me and so here I am adulting in my late forties. It’s a novel idea. I think in reality I have aged from someone who acts like a twelve-year-old to one who acts like a 17-year-old most of the time, but hey, it’s progress. I’m blaming the little one. Little shit proves nurture over nature is an actual thing. How one human being could make me pay for my raising so much and yet, give me a kid I’d never do without is beyond me. God’s got a whacky sense of humor sometimes.

On a final note, it’s cold as shit outside today. News Channel 9 says the feels like temp is 10 friggin degrees. Ha, I looked that up so there ya go. Look at me! I wasn’t too lazy to pick up my dang phone and push the screen once. Geezus gawd help me. I seriously was that lazy. Go back. Read the blogs. There’s proof. Welcome to Tonya Spencer 2.0, glad you're here.

Just Me

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Thu, 17 Jan 2019 15:40:00 +0000

So it's been a year and 3 months since I posted. At least I think so because A, my internet sucks, and B even if it did work, I'm too lazy to go look at the last date I posted. Yup, now you remember me.

My life has changed a lot and then it hasn't. The change in myself has been phenomenal and hopefully it will stay and continue to grow. The love for my family, my sons and my wife, is stronger than ever and oh, I have my medicinal marijuana card. So yah, there's that too. Score.

I want to change the name of my blog because it doesn't fit anymore. I moved. Into an apartment. In Norman, OK, and yes, on a side note, Boomer Sooner. So guess what's gone? Yep, the cow. So therein lies the problem as we are now just two lesbians and no cow. I don't think I can change the name tho and yes, again, I am too lazy to find out so the cow stays. At least for now.

For those of you who don't know, I've spent 35 days of November and December in a mental health institution. The best by far of any of the vast mental health restoration centers I have ever visited. If you ever need to get your crazy on then get in touch with the folks at Oakwood Springs in OKC. They're amazing. While there, I met some incredible people. Some of whom, I still and will continue to keep in touch with as they have seen me at my worst and best and lifted me up the entire time. I can not thank all of you enough. You are indeed wonderful people.

The gambling is in remission thanks to those same folks at Oakwood Springs. I get a shot now to help with the urges and it and my determination have me on the path to success. To all who have supported me and stood beside me in this endeavor, thank you. Because of this success and my continued growth, I am becoming the best Tonya I can be. Which is saying a lot, because this Tonya has been the worst Tonya can be over the last year as well. I'm fortunate to say most if not all of my friends and family have hung on with me during this tumultuous time. I'm lucky to call you all family more than friends and your continued support is all I could ever ask for from my brothers and sisters. I've finally started adulting and for now, I'm content sitting in my recliner, watching some Hunger Games and going to Thunder games and eventually OU football games next season. Wahooooo, life honestly is absolutely great. I believe in myself and I believe in the love we all carry and have for each other and that is all I truly think I'll ever need. Again, to all of you reading this, thank you all. Uuntil next time, peace out.

Smart Ass...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Fri, 09 Feb 2018 16:48:00 +0000

There’s very little I don’t know. Seriously. Ask me how to ace a five-paragraph essay and I’m your gurl. But then again, don’t ask me to reset your clock on your car stereo or you’ll be sorely disappointed.

The wife’s gonna be an Ag teacher. You know what that means? She can get some healthy teenagers out here to build a fence for a cow and a barn for a cow and call it a FFA project. Tonya 1, hormone raging teenager who just wants to get thru and go hop in the sack with their honey 0.

For the most part, I’m pretty laid back until the occasional occasion when my mouth spouts out whatever vile thot is crossing thru my brain. Like the dude yesterday driving his Jaguar convertible down Hefner parkway; he will rue the day he was driving drunk or pilled out or texting or whatever the hell he was doing to almost hit a guard rail three times before finally nailing it and hurling his piece of shit Jaguar fender at my Jeep. Not only did I get to give him a mouthful of what I thot of him and his stupid Jaguar, I also got video of his dumb ass swerving back and forth for 2 miles which Jen and I promptly turned over to the police when they caught up with him fleeing the scene. Rue the day, asshole.

I’m finally getting over whatever this crap is I’ve had for 3 damn months. Upper respiratory infection from hell is what I’ve heard was going around. All I know is I must have hacked up enuff nasty green, saliva-filled, lougies to fill up a swimming pool. Gross.

Cow is on hold for now. Like I said, we need the fence and the barn plus more to get ready for the cow and spring has snuck up on us before we are ready for Ribeye. So, the treehugger is slowly wading into this by buying a slaughter cow so I can taste how good the meat is and then feel like I MUST kill Ribeye to satisfy my raw hunger for fresh meat. Seriously? Shake my damn head.

Well winter’s almost over and that means top down, wind whipping thru my hair, doors off, Jeep days are ahead. Wahoooooo!!!! For now, it’s 6 more weeks of winter according to Punxsutawney Phil so put on those Okie layers and prepare to either freeze or sweat your balls off. Peace out, Homies.

Moo...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Tue, 12 Dec 2017 16:49:00 +0000

Geezus, life’s been crazy and busy lately. I’ve barely had time to sit down much less write a blog, but thot I’d share a few life events that are pertinent to the life of two lesbians and a cow.

I got to experience the birth of a child. Like full-on, in person, in the room watching the kiddo pop out the birth canal. The wife said I sat there looking like it was a bad horror movie I couldn’t take my eyes off; nonetheless, it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I had to go sit in the Jeep for the 12 hours of gut-wrenching labor my sis-in-law went thru because I couldn’t take it, but I did manage to come back for the last house of trauma and joy miracle. Although I can definitely say after witnessing the pain first hand that I’m glad I never partook in the process, I feel so privileged to say I was there when my precious niece set her eyes on the world for the first time. It was incredible and I can’t thank my brother and sis-in-law for letting me be there as an in-awe spectator to this beautiful child coming into the world.

Jen and I bought us a used popup tent trailer last week. It’s a definite fixer upper and we actually made it thru the whole restoration process without almost getting a divorce so that’s a plus. One of my buddies got me a stuffed animal cow he named Moo for the trailer. He said it can’t be two lesbians and a cow without the cow. Lol. The little one don’t like the trailer colors we picked but definitely appreciated the warmth factor as opposed to tent camping. He’s even asked to go camping again on New Year’s Eve weekend when our Jeep peeps are going out on another trip. Score one for Tonna and my die-hard city boy.

I’m currently going thru college football withdrawals but luckily ESPN is doing reruns of last year’s classic games. Thanks to my terrible memory I mostly don’t recall the winners so it works until New Year’s Day when it’s game on and my Sooners take the stage. Booma!!!

The cow is 4 months away and I’m ready to begin this journey. Seems like all the waiting has given me some peace in this circle-of-life process and the cow and I will take on this journey together while I adjust to this self-sustaining lifestyle. Turns out I’m pretty good at sending animals back to the universe since we are down to one chicken now that the dogs dug into the chicken pen while we were gone over Thanksgiving. Come on to the Spencer farm Ribeye where your death is eminent. You’re in good hands.

For the Love...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Thu, 09 Nov 2017 02:48:00 +0000

Jen Hatmaker has a book called “For the Love”. Jen is the Christian author who’s also a preacher’s wife that makes me pee my pants every time I read her books. And you just thot I was a judgemental, flag burning, homosexual athiest. Anyway, it’s funny as shit. Throughout the book she says “For the Love”, like flag burning, liberal, athiests would say “For the Love of Christ”. I laugh a lot and love her like more than any lesbian should ever love a preacher’s wife. I read her books when I feel like I want to choke out every person in sight. I remind myself that this woman I had conditioned myself to hate not so long ago, restores my faith in the world and whomever or whatever higher power I do or do not serve.

I love the Hunger Games series. Like love, love, love to the point that if the world came to an end I would surely rise up and be the next Katniss Everdeen. Ha! Sure thing 200lb, 46 going on 50 year old, broke down, lazy ass pacifist. Leave that kind of activism to those youngins who still think they can change the world. I figured out a long time ago I wasn’t gonna save the world like I had intended to when I was going to law school to right every wrong. I have eventually given into the notion that I’ll be watching that shiz nonstop all day every day from the comfort of my recliner in my living room. Do your thang Katniss. I got you gurl.

So today was a Hunger Games binge watch day. To the point that I almost had the wifey convinced that we immediatey needed to run to Best Buy and buy me the complete DVD series because this was what was going on in the world right now. THE HUNGER GAMES IS A METAPHOR!!! This is the future if we Katniss Everdeen’s don’t rise up and say fuck you to the man. And that’s a friggin metaphor so quit calling me the quasi-hippee feminist you hate to love and stay with me. My point is The Hunger Games is my millenial Star Wars and every time I watch them again, I see something I missed before. They take me to a happy place where all rights are made wrong and yes, Jennifer Lawrence who plays Katness Everdeen being hot as heck doesn’t hurt either. If I were not a one woman, woman I would seriously consider making her mine, but hey, I dig the symbolism too. Damn English degree. Can’t do nothing without over-analyzing. Get on the band wagon and for the love, watch this awesome action series.

To Baskins

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Sun, 22 Oct 2017 14:34:00 +0000

You died on a Thursday. I knew you were sick but didn't know this would be the day. When I saw how skinny you were and how tired you looked, I knew it was time. Your poor little body had given up on what your mind and heart would never have.

I sit out at your grave a lot. I'm trying to make it so pretty for you. Lots of flowers and sunshine in the morning and shade in the eve. There's still much to be done but it is the perfect place to have laid you to rest.

I miss your meow. Your soft and gentle but heavy paws climbing up on my side to sleep on me in the middle of the nite. I wish I could have held you forever in those final few hours together but I will always feel you in my heart and soul and am at peace knowing you are alive and well somewhere over the rainbow where your ailing body can hold you back no more.

There's not many memories I have left without you in them. You were Momma's rock, my soul companion for so many years. We weathered so many storms together and you sat on my lap and licked my fingers and caressed my arms thru all of them. You were all that Momma needed to see on some of the hardest times that life dealt me.

I will miss your sweet face, those beautiful eyes, and endearing purr box when you were relishing in my love for you. I know that you are in a better place and although you're no longer by my side, you will always live on in my heart. So long my sweet gurl. Until we meet again, I love you, Momma.

Sucker...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Sun, 08 Oct 2017 16:29:00 +0000

I’ve been blowing and going for weeks now. Jeepin, camping, baseball, adopting two new dogs, taking my dreads out, yada yada yada you name it and I’m friggin tired. I’m also experiencing a writer’s block so I am warning you and apologizing in advance that this blog will probably suck.

Apparently we still had plenty of love leftover for two more four-legged additions to our family even tho we were already caring for two dogs, two cats, five chickens, and a lone remaining guinea. Yep, we were easy prey for the two absolutely adorable canines who won us over at a Jeep event. I knew it was over when Jen said oh isn’t this one cute and I said oh look at this one. The shelter told us their stories about how they had both been abandoned twice and how the next time they ended up in the shelter they would be euthanised so welcome to the family Sarge, a 40 lb boxer, blue heeler mix, and Bella, another 40 lb lab, pit mix. We adore you already and can’t wait to figure out how to get a king size bed in our 10x12 room so we can all appreciate leaving the queen size bed which all six of you somehow find a way to squeeze onto nightly. I told Jen we might as well invite the chickens in too cuz it couldn’t be any worse. This morning I woke up trying to figure out how Jen had ended up with my blanket and me hers. Finding covers amidst six animals on a queen size bed is challenging to say the least.

So my dreads are gone. They weren’t doing what I wanted them to and felt like more of a novelty than pretty so my not-so-gentle wife combed them out over the course of seven hours in two days. Imagine your worst enemy getting the opportunity to pull out every hair on your head and that would be a blessing compared to this fevered woman ripping out the knots on my head that she despises that have been locked in there for over a year. I lost half my hair and my scalp still hurts but at least I didn’t have to cut them out and now my hair feels pretty again and is longer than it’s been since high school. Wowsa.

It’s getting closer to the cow coming. Six months from now and we will go pick him out to fatten him up for a year before we butcher him to eat. I must be getting more at peace with it cuz I wrote that last line with only a little grimace. Come on Ribeye, we’re waiting for you.

Pig 1, Pig Killer 0

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Tue, 19 Sep 2017 16:07:00 +0000

So a pig wanders up in the backyard today. I thot it was one of the neighbor’s dogs cuz my dogs were going friggin nutso so I look over and it’s a damn pig. I text Jen and tell her I’m gonna try to catch it, she says shoot it. So in an instant I become a hunter. I throw all my treehugger caution to the wind, load the 22 and head out to kill this damn pig. Now before I begin this story, on my shooting skills behalf, the scope hadn’t been zero’d so I’m trying to kill it with a scope I can’t use. Anyway, out the door I go, weapon in hand, and pig killer on the brain.

I walk out the front door and there’s the pig standing about 5 foot from me. Jen has called me and I am on the phone with her when I tell her I got to go so I can kill this pig. I lay the phone down and the pig just stares at me whilst I’m trying to imagine roasted pig for dinner. I aim the 22 right at it, bam, and the pig looks at me like wtf. The pig moves a few feet away from me, apparently he has found out something is wrong with this animal whisperer. I load the gun again. Bam, nothing. Pig decides to get away from me this time so I follow him across the road to the neighbor’s house, check to see if the neighbor is home which he is isn’t, and follow the pig towards the woods.

The pig by this time has definitely figured out I am a crazed treehugger who has lost their everloving mind and heads for the woods. I make one more attempt with the scope this time and Pig 1, Pig Killer 0, and he heads off into the woods until I can’t find him anymore.

About this time the neighbor whose property I am brandishing a weapon on pulls in and I put my hand up to assure him all is well with the lesbian across the street being on his land with a gun. I explain the pig story, he laughs and says he wished I would have got it and shared some supper with him and that he is worried about his dog now.

Moral of the story? Apparently the universe was looking out for the pig. Second moral of the story? Apparently I can’t shoot worth a shit without a working scope. Anyway, Jen is proud of me for traipsing out there to take down this pig and I am honestly disappointed that I missed my first kill. It was a cute pig too and probably someone’s pet pig so me trying to get this dead pig on ice might have been a breakdown waiting to happen. My friend’s on facebook are all like we want video or it didn’t happen and I’m over here like, I couldn’t kill the damn pig period and you wanted me to get that on video. Probably would have shot myself. So long treehugger, you may have lost out today.

Hey Batter, Batter...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Tue, 12 Sep 2017 12:57:00 +0000

If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I talk a lot of shit. I like it cuz it throws people off their game. Like my buddy who lost 8-5 games shooting pool with me on Sunday. I talk shit, but I back that shit up too. Believe that shit?

I’ve been working on becoming a kinder, gentler Tonya. The kind who doesn’t get the police called on her at the VA every week. The kind who doesn’t slow down and block your ass cuz you are up mine on the highway. The kind who doesn’t ask the fella handing me his church flyer if his church accepts gays only to find out he really just wants to tell me he likes my dreads.

It’s a cunundrum tho. I’m a smart ass and raising an almost 10 year-old who thinks I’m the shiz. That kid is living proof that nurture over nature is for real. I keep telling him he is in for a lot of heartache, but he just laffs and thinks it’s cool that he is better at being a smart ass than me.

Baseball starts today. Yayyyyyyyy!!! I never thought the kid was gonna be a sports kiddo. If not just for the sheer joy of ruining my dream of raising the next Babe Ruth, I figured he was gonna be one of those video game geeks that you have to have those long talks with about going outside to play cuz that’s what we did when I was a kid and I turned out ok. Thankfully he chose a sport cuz I never would have won the I turned out ok argument. People, to say that I am paying for my raising is like saying that Oklahoma is windy. Ma, karma is indeed a bitch.

As the universe was looking out for me, the kid is a natural at baseball so I get to be one of those gleaming parents who looks on with joy at the games. I get to smile when I see him throwing a fast ball like I taught him. I get to sit on the edge of my seat when he gets up to bat and has a stance that a college coach might someday vie for. I get to see him grin at me when he knows that I am gonna get on facebook later and post about it when he slides into home to score the winning run. I may be paying for my raising but it’s worth every penny. “Hey batter, batter, batter....SWING!!!”

Remember That Time...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Wed, 06 Sep 2017 11:28:00 +0000

So we’ve all got em. You know, the stories you and your friends sit around laffin your asses off about when you relive the good old days. Yep those. Well, I’ve been making a few too many new ones lately. For instance…

I recently won the record for getting the Jeep stuck four times when I was muddin at a jeep party on labor day weekend. Apparently Annie doesn’t follow directions well and doesn’t learn from her mistakes, but who’s counting. This damn tree also jumped out in front of me that weekend and took out my right front fender which got me in lots of trouble with the wifey. So much that I’m getting new metal fenders for the Jeep now. And you just thought I was a stupid girl.

I have a new moonshine story where for some reason I stopped remembering people’s names. They do say that shit kills brain cells and well, I’m dranking and you shouldn’t judge me anyway cuz I have to drive my razor scooter later, right? And yes, I meant to spell it “dranking” for effect. It worked, didn’t it?

I must say tho I did miss out on an epic “Remember when…” on Labor Day when I got my foot stuck in the mud tryna get Annie out and didn’t fall flat on my face. See what happens when you don’t drink and drive? I’m really kicking myself in the ass for that one cuz it would have been one for the ages.

My Jeep has taken the brunt of most of these new stories and is pretty mad at me which is evidenced by her lack of enthusiasm in making her winch work when I need it most and losing body parts. I now have been told I have to repair her out of my allowance which doesn’t go very far so now I gotta be all careful and shit. Uh yah, you fell for that. I just managed to get new metal fenders for ripping off the old ones. I’m shaking my head at you right now.

So go out and make as many new remember whens as you can. I do. It’s a rough life but someone has to live it. Peace out homies.

Drink and Razor Scooter

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Sun, 27 Aug 2017 21:30:00 +0000

For those of you who have ever hung out with me for longer than 10 minutes at a social event, you know I drink. A lot. Like if i ever show up at your house without my cooler and 6pts you better hide your beer. Yah, I’m that kind of gurl and as luck would have it, I’ve found a new stupid kid fetish. Drinking and razor scootering.

Me and one of my buddies hang out just about every Saturday for drinking, shooting pool, and basic good times for all. I tend to get a little overly tipsy and don’t like to quit drinking when I’m on a roll so his kid has talked me into razor scootering with him to “sober up”. Now, I want you to imagine the smallest razor scooter you’ve ever seen and a 200 lb drunk woman roaring down the roadways. Funny, right? You can just forecast the results. There you go, you got it. 200 lb drunk woman is at some point lying on the ground detached from the razor scooter. Nice.

One of my last times out, I ended up with some broken glasses and cool road rash wounds on my head and both sides of one knee. How the road rash ended up on opposite sides of my right knee is a mystery to me, but from what I heard it was an epic crash and totally worth the injuries for another “Here, hold my beer,” drunk story. So epic in fact, that my friend’s kid crashed the other day and he said he'd, “Tonya’d it.” Awesome.

And you think I learned my lesson, right? Geezus, have you been reading my blogs??? Hell, no. I took that shit like a boss and was back up tearing up the neighborhood yesterday AND not one crash to report as hard as I tried. Apparently, I’m getting better at drinking and razor scootering. Score.

I love mud. Like knee deep I have to wade out to hook up the winch on the Jeep mud. If there’s one thing to add to your bucket list it’s buy a big ass Jeep and go muddin. Then, don’t hold back. And...if you think you can’t make it across a hole and don’t go for it I will call you a puss but still love you, cuz now you’re my Jeeples and we are bros and/or homegurls for life. Jeeples are the shiz and the best group of crazy people you’ll ever meet who never want to grow up.

So there you have my contribution to your life for the day. Two bucket list items that you can do whether you’re 16 or 61. Elbow and knee pads are optional for the bold razor scooter drunk types but I’d opt out at least once and get those war wounds. People think you’re a stud cuz you’re stupid as shit. Welp, until next time, keep it on the flip side. Later loves.

4th grade???

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Sat, 19 Aug 2017 15:02:00 +0000

So we started 4th grade yesterday. The kid is gonna be in middle school in 2 years. I can’t deal.

The new teacher is awesome. She’s got a pink strand in her long blonde hair and is uber energetic. She also didn’t give us the oh-my-gawd he’s got 2 gay moms and 2 gay dads smile. Go Ms. So and So. The room is full of stuffed monkeys and when I say monkeys, I mean like the zoo couldn’t keep this many monkeys. She actually has a bathtub in there with a huge gorilla in it and a green loveseat that I would die for. She must be a fan of green and pink and those are like two of my favorite colors together so another score. Totally out of the box. I love it and got good vibes already. 4th grade is gonna be the shiz.

The kid wants hermit crabs. It was supposed to be a turtle at first and turtles are a apparently a pain in the ass to take care of so I’m totally down for the flakiness. A friend gave us an aquarium for them and if Jen and I don’t get a divorce over figuring out how to set up and take care of these hermit crabs it’ll be a miracle.

Life on the Spencer farm is good and we are slowly getting our plans together to get the whole self-sustain thing in full motion by the spring of 2018. We are even gonna hang high cabinets when we gut the kitchen to store what we reap from the veggie garden for canning next year.

The house by the way is a total fixer upper. A guy who built barns for a living built it from his leftovers in 2007 and it’s a refab dream. We do, however, think the people who lived here before us had a nail fetish. There’s enough nails and nail holes in these walls to hang slaughter. I also don’t know where the builder managed to find every piece of 80’s kitchen cabinetry or why the previous owners decided to take the bathroom sink with them instead of the kitchen but it’s coming along slowly and surely.

Haven’t been spending too much time stressing over the cow lately so that’s a positive. Maybe I have enough time to absorb this old vegans life-altering transition into Farmer Brown and can get more on board with living in and accepting a circle of life environment. We’ll see. One thing’s for sure, it’s an adventure and I’m always in on that. Until next time...peace out.

What Defines Me...

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Tue, 15 Aug 2017 09:04:00 +0000

I got curious about what the definition of slaughter cow might be. I thought maybe there would be something in the definition that said it was ok to slaughter cows. So the first definition that came up was about pasture cows and how they’re defined as grazing cows and this and that which didn’t mean shit to me so I kept looking. Then there it was at the bottom of the google search. The definition of slaughter.

slaughter

1 the killing of animals, esp. for food

2 the savage killing of a person

3 the indiscriminate or brutal killing of large numbers of people, as in war; massacre

4 Informal a resounding defeat

vb tr

5 to kill (animals), esp. for food

6 to kill in a brutal manner

7 to kill indiscriminately or in large numbers

8 Informal to defeat resoundingly

Now see, the first part of the definition is easy right? The killing of animals, especially for food. Fair enough, there you have it, cut and dried. Slaughter is in the dictionary you treehugging fool and it specifically says that’s what it means. KIll some cows. Now, if only this English major could stop there and not dissect the rest all would be well. But, no, they had to include the brutal, savage, and massacre parts as well. Not a good transition for the treehugger.

So yes, there’s that, but recently, I have been taking a good long look at the meat packaged up in those tidy little styrofoam, cling-wrapped packages when we don’t buy our meat at the butcher shop. Here’s where being a treehugger benefits the cow slaughterer. Now, my slaughter cow has a cause. Now he doesn’t use styrofoam and plastic wrap I can’t burn in the firepit. Now, he protects the environment. Yayyyyyyyyy, says the treehugger. Cow slaughterer, treehugging, protect the environment quasi-hippie, 1. Grocery store buying, I’m destroying my kids future pseudo Mom, 0.

A cause. Do you have any idea what a cause means to a bleeding heart, quasi-hippie??? Oh man, a caaaauuuussseeeeeee!!!

Causes are like plagues. Plagues are defined as a contagious bacterial disease characterized by fever and delirium, typically with the formation of buboes (see bubonic plague) and sometimes infection of the lungs ( pneumonic plague ).: "an outbreak of plague" "they died of the plague". Ah, says the English major. Dissect that shit.

So now I’m infected with the Cow Slaughterer Plague. I am feverous that I am providing a better life for my kiddos and I am delirious with joy that my slaughter cow is helping to save our planet. It's affecting my lungs cuz here I am telling you about it and it’s a cause, so, of course it’s contagious. Ah, treehugger. Now you’re onto something.

Hell if I Know

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Sun, 13 Aug 2017 20:41:00 +0000

I had a dream last nite. Of course it was a dream so it went all over the place. Started with me still being in college and working for some admin guy who turned out to be the deputy district attorney who paid me with good grades and meat. All over the place, see? Anyway, the meat part is the jist of the story. He paid me in raw meat. It had everything from sirloin to roast to yes, ribeyes, laying out on this plastic that looked like cling-wrap. Point is, in the dream at least, I was ok with the raw meat. It actually looked kinda of yummy. So there’s a plus. Thanks dream.

So we haven’t talked about Jeeps yet. Suffice to say the phrase Jeep is life and life is good are truths. Went out wheelin with some of my new Jeep friends and their kiddos today for the first time. The youngest kid is addicted already and told me he now wanted to spend the nite with me which he had said before he didn’t want to do. Kids are such suckers for a Jeep and some mud. So is this kid.

I found out how to pasturize milk on Pinterest. Jen says she will still be buying her gallon of milk at the local grocery. We’lll see. I’m totally getting into this self-sustain thing and so I’m going balls to the walls, full out with it now. We’re not getting the cow til Spring and the more I talk about it, the more I think I can do it. We’ll see about that too when them eyeballs make eye contact with me. See ya soon Ribeye.

Stupid Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Wed, 09 Aug 2017 16:22:00 +0000

The kid got up in my newsed recliner last nite and wanted me to read the blog to him. The kid is the youngest cuz the oldest is over 6 foot now and would swallow me. So I’m reading the blog to him and he tells me that I need to write about all my crazy stories. I ask him which ones he is talking about because that’s most of my life and he says when you used to be so stupid and surfed on top of cars. So here is Tonya Spencer circa 1980’s.

I grew up in Cement, OK. A small speck of land in the heart of the oil fields of Oklahoma. When I was a teenager in the 80’s, oil was booming and life was good for a bunch of small town, America kids. But, in small town, America there’s not much to do so sometimes you have to get a little bit creative.

My grandpa bought me my first car when I was 16. A Buick Skylark he got from an elderly lady that was in pristine condition and not at all the Chevy Camaro I had asked for. Later, this spoiled little brat didn’t appreciate that car, and thus, ended up walking to school as senior, but while it lasted it was the party wagon.

At some point while driving down a back road with one of my posse, I thot it would be awesome to “surf” up on top of the car. It sounds just like it is. You take your shoes off, get up on top of the car and surf while your friend, who is supposed to pay extra special attention, is driving slowly down the road. “Slowly” would later become a subjective word, but “surfing” became a phenomena betwixt my band of hooligan girls to the point that we could squeeze almost four of us up on top of the Skylark at one time. Fyi, no matter how good they made ‘em in the old days, Buick Skylarks were not designed to have that many teenage girls riding on top of them and the Skylark ended up rollin with a dent that covered the entire top. A dent that, as I explained to my grandpa, occurred when a softball landed on top of it. I was never a good liar.

The kid knows way too many of my stupid stories. I tell him cuz he laffs and I figure if he’s gonna make me pay for my raising he might as well know why. If you’re one of those hooligan girls and have or will ever share this story with your youngins then be prepared for them to bug the shit out of you til you do or don’t let them try it out. Mine got to ride belly down on top of the jeep while I was going 1 mph in the parking lot of the drive-in movie theater. The smile on his face reminded me of a 16 year old girl who thought she ruled the world. Stupid kid.

Jen Hatmaker is the Shiz

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Tue, 08 Aug 2017 13:11:00 +0000

“I’ve discovered reduced consumption doesn’t equal reduced community or reduced contentment. There is something liberating about unplugging the machine to discover the heartbeat of life still thumping. Maybe we don’t need those wires after all. Maybe we’re healthier unhooked from the life-support of consumerism than we imagined. Is there a less traveled path through our me-first culture that is more adventurous and fulfilling than the one so heavily trod? One that sacrifices none of the good parts of the story but inspires us to reimagine the sections that are bleeding us all dry?

I think maybe there is.”

—	Jen Hatmaker

I love Jen Hatmaker. A lot. She is a pastor’s wife and author who lives in Austin, TX and is the most refreshing, loving, accepting embodiment of Christ I have ever encountered excluding my grandmother and I’m pretty sure they would have been great friends.

My little, almost 10, one is away at his other Mom’s. I have only been with him since he was a year and a half years old and it was Jen and her ex who wanted a child so thus, he has another Mom. Kid is so loved. So anyway, he is texting me and I am laffing my ass off. I tell him we have painted his stairs and put up some more tin on the walls while he has been gone but I’m too lazy to get up and take pics to show him. His response is, “I know.” I ask him if he knows I am too lazy or if he already knew about tin and stairs. His response, “Both.” That’s my boy, always telling it like it is. Jen says he gets that from me. I pretend I don’t agree.

One of my friends told me yesterday to consider a Texas Longhorn for my cow. She said because they’re beauties. I was like, um, the point is for them to be ugly. She says it doesn’t matter if they’re ugly or cute, it’s still hard. I am thinking maybe the Longhorn might not be a bad solution for the treehugger. I do despise the University of Texas Longhorns because I was born and bred in the Sooner State. I could name him Bebo. It’s a thot.

Anyway, read Jen Hatmaker if you ever get the chance. She is the shiz and I would start with “For the Love”. You will laff your ass off.

Rue the Day

noreply@blogger.com (Tonya) — Mon, 07 Aug 2017 13:17:00 +0000

I was once in car sales. For a total of around 6 years of my life, I spent my days doing my best to make a living whilst trying to keep my dignity, integrity, and family in tact. My days consisted of loathing managers who did their best to turn me into themselves, fighting like hell to get off work at some point before midnight and making friends with people long enough to sell them a car. Unfortunately, I was good at the making friends part and that sucked for a person who tried to be noble every once and awhile.

Want a great deal on a car? Take me with you. I know the ins, out, right, left, upside down, and right side ups of every way a car deal works. There’s no trick a salesperson, sales manager, or finance manager can pull to throw me off cuz I was very good at what I did. Consider it a freebe and my contribution to redeeming some of my dignity and integrity; maybe to regain a little good karma from being too good at selling cars for too long. For hating what it all stood for. The manipulation of people to make money.

I’m wondering if the slaughter cow will manipulate me. If he will look in my eyes and know there is a bleeding heart in there longing to keep him alive anyway I can. That the cow will sense a weakness in me and find that one tender spot that won’t let go of my love for all things living and exploit it. Hopefully, the cow isn’t good at it. Maybe Jersey cows are not only all alike and mean. Maybe they’re stupid too.

On a lighter note tho, I’ve decided to get a dairy cow as well which Jen wants no part of. She says they are most definitely mean and she’s not going anywhere near one so this one’s for the treehugger. I get to animal whisper to this mean cow, nurture it, love it, and steal it’s milk all at the same time. This old car saleswoman may be good at this after all.