Monday morning I turned up at the Ward County Courthouse bright eyed and bushy tailed to perform my civic duty. After driving around the block a couple of times, I found a parking spot and went into the hallowed halls of justice. I must say jury duty in Ward County has reached new heights of electronic marvels. One of the first things you do when appearing as instructed, after finding a parking spot of course, is to go into the courthouse and get scanned. No they don't scan you personally for guns or other implements of destruction. Nor do they make you put your face on a flat bed scanner for a profile shot. They do however scan the yellow letter that you got in the mail with one of those pen gadgets.
After getting scanned, I waited around with everybody else for well over an hour until our names were called and we were instructed to go into the courtroom. Me and a few others had to wait a bit longer because when the dude reading the names from the two lists he had in his hands was finished, there were still some of us standing around waiting to hear our names called. One guy asked if this meant we could go home. He was told "No", in no uncertain terms. Another lady looked at me and asked me what I thought had happened. The iron sculpture of a judge attired in cowboy boots and Stetson that stands right outside the courthouse had left me feeling particularly southern fried blonde right then, so in my slowest drawl, I posed this question for her to ponder, "You reckon they think we are like, defective or something, and they are cutting us out of the herd?" Though I did NOT bob my head from side to side as I posed that question.
Finally, after a brief bout of what appeared to be a mute game of musical chairs in the courtroom, those of us whose names had not been called earlier, straggled into the courtroom. I hadn't even sat down when the prosecuting attorney announced, "That, is Frances Deck." Didn't I feel special having my entrance announced like that? Though I'm not sure exactly who he was announcing my arrival to. Naturally everybody on and off the bench looked me over rather carefully as I sat down. Some people were no doubt wondering why the prosecuting attorney knew me so well. Others of course, know why he does. Then the judge asked us if any of us had ever been arrested or convicted of a felony, or a crime of moral turpitude. Nobody raised their hand, or went up to discuss the matter with Sam as we had been instructed to do if any of us had ever been arrested or convicted of a felony, or a crime of moral turpitude.
Sam then told the people on his right, our left, they could consider themselves lucky, or unlucky, depending on how they wanted to look at it, since we could leave. He must of thought there were several southern fried blondes in the courtroom that day, because he made a point of repeating how he meant his right, but our left. Of course, southern fried blonde or not, since Sam seemed to be looking at us folks on the left side of the room, I didn't figure the people on the right side of the room were the ones who be leaving shortly. Morris wanted me to suggest to Sam that he say, "the other right," so even the southern fried blondes would understand what he meant. Even I'm not THAT far Beyond Blonde though when it comes to dealing with a judge. Besides, the defense attorney happened to be a blonde woman, and she would have no doubt taken exception to my muse's suggestion. So I just compromised, bobbed my own head from side to side, held up my left hand and looking at it said, as if speaking to myself, "Oh he means the Other right!" Since I happened to be sitting on the left side of the room, I had to leave the sacred halls of justice. Those sacred halls of justice seemed to breathe a sigh of relief to see me depart. Sooner or later though, I'm bound to get another Jury Duty Summons. Maybe next time I'll be on the right side of the room.
Morris, the maniacal muse, has been a constant companion of mine ever since that last rock concert I went to in the 70's. Though the details of that particular concert are rather vague, ok so the details of most of the concerts I attended then are kind of vague, anyway, I distinctly remember Morris first appeared to me after that concert.
We had left the concert and gone back to a friend's house. Having grown bored with staring at the lava lamp, and dizzy from watching the swirling colors on the ball hung from ceiling, I was staring at the Goat's Head Soup album cover on the wall, and grooving down to Purple Haze. And while Jeff and I debated the true meaning the words, Excuse me while I kiss the sky, I felt something descend upon my shoulder.
But instead of finding a friendly hand, I perceived a 9 inch blue muse perched upon my shoulder. And in a cynical little voice he said to me, "Hey Blondie! it ever occur to you he was just wasted and didn't know what the hell he was saying?"
Now I had ingested no strong hallucinatory drugs that day. And though I may have inhaled a time two that day and evening, I honestly do not believe that can account for the sudden appearance of Morris. I would think it would take a lot more than a little silly smoke to account for the appearance of a very cynical 9 inch blue muse upon your shoulder.
We were grocery shopping today when I saw some things that really made me stop and think. It is really is amazing what you can find in a grocery store now. The first thing I saw that caused me to do a mental double take was a bottle of Bar-B-Q sauce made by one of our more well known crimson necked comics. I picked up the bottle, took it over and showed it to Larry and said, "Hey!, if I ever get syndicated we need to come up with our own Bar-B-Q Sauce!" Then I took the bottle of Bar-B-Q sauce and put it back where I found it. I'm a Heinz fan myself.
Then I went in search of hot dog buns. I found a stack of bakery trays with various kinds of buns in them. But there was one lot of hot dog buns that were decidedly peculiar. First of all they were awfully long buns. I thought of foot long hot dogs, but to be honest, the buns looked well over a foot in length to me. And I 'm a pretty fair judge of how long things really are. Especially things that are 12" and shorter.
The second peculiar thing about these buns was the fact that they had "Hamburger Buns" imprinted on the package. I can't help but wonder what was going on at the bakery the night these buns came out of the oven.
Over in the pet supplies section I saw a nifty gadget the yuppies are going to be panting over. It is a tick remover. Yeah, they have invented a gadget that will remove the ticks from your hound, without you getting your fingers bloody. It looks like a little round plastic spoon with a tiny V and a slit cut into the spoon part. In all honesty though, if I was that queasy about touching a tick, I would just buy a monkey and let him groom the dogs.
Of course the Decks use that high tech stuff that only takes a couple of drops, and keeps the ticks off your hounds for 30 days. Providing your hounds don't do a lot of bathing and/or swimming, it works pretty good. And country folk like us don't mind getting our fingers a little bloody when necessary.
On the way home I began to think about how I wanted to package and market my brand of Bar-B-Q Sauce. I'm thinking of calling it Bar-B-Q Sauce From Beyond. With a blurb that says, "The sauce that gets Beyond Hot. Put a little of this on your wienie, and you'll really make her mouth water!" This sauce should be real popular among some men I know.
I also want a bottle that is shaped like a well stacked babe. The label will look like my leopard mesh bikini. I'll probably have to hang the name and blurb on a sign around the neck of the bottle though, there won't be enough of the label to fit any writing on. And I don't want a glass bottle. I want a soft squeeze bottle. I figure when they are through with the sauce, certain folks I know can peel the label off and use the bottle as an erotic toy.
Sunbathing is normally a pretty solitary experience for me. Or at least it used to be that way before I started sunbathing in my new leapord mesh bikini, and traffic on our little Farm to Market Road increased dramitically. I don't know if the two things are connected. But I did wonder the other day when I was doing a little sun bathing in the front and and this dude in an oil field truck went by. I swear the way his head snapped round as he went past, I thought that poor ol' boy was going to break his neck. About fifteen minutes later five more oil field pick up trucks went down the road. One about every two or three minutes. And they seemed to be driving past my place real slow. By then I had moved around to the back where I couldn't be seen by passing motorist. I could hear those trucks driving real slow past the place though. I will always wonder if that guy in the first truck called all his buddies and alerted them as to what was happening out here in the middle of nowhere.
Another reason I had moved around the back and out of the sight of passing motorists is because I didn't want to get mistaken for an oil field UFO. See, out here in the oil patch, a lot of these good old boys believe that if you are driving along, and you see an object laying around that you just know you are going to be able to use one day, and if that object isn't nailed down or guarded, then that object is a gift from God. You are suppose to take that object as a sign of favor from above. These objects are known as UFOs. Useful Found Objects. Once they are safely in the hands of the lucky finder they become MFOs. My F*cking Objects.
But I really don't think it was the sight of my not so voluptuous body that caused that guy in that first truck to nearly break his neck. These guys get used to seeing a lot of strange sights along these country roads. But nearly nude blondes are not something I think they would see, like, on a daily basis. No. I think it was just coming across an unanticipated, nearly nude blonde, that caused that classic double take. He probably wouldn't have given me a second glance if I had had more clothes on.
Because the safest way a light complexioned blonde can get a good tan without looking like something that should be on a lobster menu, is to do so in short sessions, I have been spending thirty minutes on my stomach and thirty minutes on my back each day. Now why do those positions and time spans seem familiar? Anyway, I try to spend one hour in the morning and one hour in the late afternoon working on my tan. Because of this, I think my neighbor down the road the road has come to believe I never do anything but lay around half naked. That is not true. It just looks that way because he always happens to drive by in the one hour I am outside. Morning and Afternoon.
I must say I am proud of my achievement though. I have actually managed to get a nice tan. Just to be on the safe side though, I am going to start doing my sunbathing around back and out of sight. Larry would be mad as hell if someone mistook me for a UFO.
One of the advantages of living here in where I do is that I'm centrally located. This makes it easy for me to attend the various fairs, festivals, and other functions of the area towns. One of the perks to writing a weekly column like Beyond Blonde, is it gives me a great reason to attend neat events like the Butterfield Overland Stagecoach and Wagon Festival in Monahans, under the guise of research.
Lurching and rumbling, the stage continues towards my destiny. A destiny, if the Calvary gets there in time, which will reunite me with my long lost twin sister. Beside me sits our shotgun rider. A surly old man with a wooden leg and a bad attitude. Inside the stage are a gunfighter, a soiled dove, a drunk and the obligatory pregnant woman. As the stage continues towards our destiny The gunfighter and the soiled dove lock eyes. Each one wondering, if before this journey is over, whether or not the drunk and the obligatory pregnant are going to toss their cookies from all the lurching and rumbling.
Ahead of me waits a war party of irate Indians. They are armed with the latest issue army rifles. Which they stole from a nearby fort after killing and scalping everyone in said fort. Well everyone except my long lost my twin sister, who was the blonde laundress for the fort. She is now, of course, an unwilling captive of the band of irate Indians. As the Indians wait for the stage my long lost twin sister wonders if it is her hair's destiny to become a lodge pole decoration. Or does an even worse fate await her?
Luckily, most of the cavalry soldiers belonging to the fort were in fact out of the fort at the time of the massacre. They were looking for that war party of irate Indians. They are in fact, still looking for that band of irate Indians. Enraged by the massacre, and the kidnapping of the fort's one and only laundress, the cavalry races off in hot pursuit of the band of irate Indians. The task made easier by the trail of small white pieces of my long lost sister's petticoat that she has thoughtfully dropped along the way.
Is the cavalry going to intercept the war party of well armed irate Indians before I make it to that pass? Will I once more be reunited with my long lost twin sister? Or will an untimely death prevent our reaching our destination? Thus preventing my long lost sister and I from reuniting. And expose the dark secret that I'm really a woman, pretending to be a man, so that I could fulfill my life's ambition of driving a six horse hitch.
And as the Calvary rides to the rescue, the obligatory pregnant woman is going to into labor. The soiled dove and the gunfighter are getting pretty darn friendly. The drunk has passed out. And the Indians are getting even more irate from all the waiting. Some of these Indians are beginning to cast lewd glances towards my twin sister. And I'm beginning to wonder if dressing up like a man and learning to drive a six horse hitch was such a great idea after all.
Yes folks, I really did enjoy that Stagecoach and Festival this weekend. Like I said, events such as this really does fire the imagination. My husband says I've been out in the sun too much. My son says it must have been something I ate.
I was watching a recent Sightings program to catch up on the latest in alien sightings and close encounters, when it occurred to me that I was not impressed with the aliens current choice of subjects to abduct and examine. The aliens are apparently abducting and performing intensive examinations on innocent bystanders all over the world. It seems some of the menfolk that have been abducted, have been subjected to intensive examinations which include being probed in a certain place that most men would rather not be probed in while laying helpless and under the control of some wide eyed little alien. As I watched the program, I thought of all the men I know that could really benefit from such an intensive examination though, and I couldn't help but become even more disgusted with the choice of folks the aliens are currently abducting, and subjecting to such examinations.
After the show I even went so far as to go outside and yell a few helpful hints to the sky, on the off chance the aliens might be watching me, even as I had been watching a show about them. If you live out in the middle of nowhere, and gradually get family members living with you accustomed to such behavior, you can do this kind of thing without having men in white coats immediately show up on your doorstep. If you are really bent like a corkscrew though, you write about it and simply assert you were conducting research for an article, should the men in white coats turn up on your doorstep.
I began my conversation to any aliens that might be listening by loudly exclaiming to the apparently empty sky, "Hey! You knot headed aliens listen up! I know some two legged varmints you little wide eyed dudes need to be examining!"
I then began to point out the various benefits of abducting and intensely examining a few two legged varmints I knew. I explained how I honestly could not think of any subjects that would be more interesting to, and deserving of, a really thorough alien examination, than the ones I had in mind for them . "They are positively perfect examples of de-evolution in action!" I cheerfully told the apparently empty sky. And I pointed out to any aliens that might be listening, that they would be doing humanity a favor should they decide to thoroughly examine these individuals.