The Weirdness...

Sometimes, we get the most bizarre samples into the lab.

Rambutan!

Delicious and nutritious! That is, if you can get past the hairy and alien look of it, lol.

You have to peel off the furry coat. The flesh is like that of a grape. Suck on it, and throw away the seed.

(Too much work, man.)

I've gone vegetarian, but sometimes I might need a little protein!

Silkworm Pupa!!

Hey, does that count as meat?

Who in their right mind thought... "Hey, let's can silworms! We can make good money off of that."

Somebody thought about it and did it. And that's a fancy label. What language is that on the front of the can? That right there is enough to leave it alone.

My coworker said when she opened the can, it looked like a bunch of maggots.

LOL!!! You have GOT to be KIDDING me!!!!! I would've told my boss to go jump in a lake. Give that project to a dude, babes!!

Then the other day I got something weird. Not as weird as bugs, but some craziness nonetheless.
Celeriac!

I thought someone mispelled celery.

I like to process my work at my desk. I was sitting at my desk, piddling around with the paperwork, when my coworker Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia walked up. She inquired about the box. I told her what it was. She and I tore open the box and saw this:



"That don't look like no celery, man!" I yelled.

"It's a root," she replied. She picked it up.

"Girl, that looks like someone took a cow and chopped it's hooves off."

Needless to say, I don't find that... appetizing.

I don't imagine myself yelling "Hey, pick me us some of that good ol' celeriac when you go to the store, babes!"

Nope!

Although it might serve as a weapon. If you hurl it the right way, you could knock a sucka OUT.

Suppose to be good for ya! Smelled like cinnamon and cream. It's supposed to taste like a cross between celery and parsley.

*silence*

Yeah. I'ma let YOU try that out. Let me know how that goes!

Slice that up and pair it with some sauteed silkworms, and you got one heck of a meal!!!

Got Gas??

For the past couple of weeks, the conversations around my way, in my beloved ATL, have changed dramatically. They have gone from

How you doing today?
How are things going?
How's the family?
Whatchu know good?

to

Whassup with the gas!!?

and

Ya'll know where I can find some gas?!

and various curse-ladened versions thereof. We won't go into all that.

We have a gas shortage in Georgia. I hear it is going on in the Carolinas also. Folks down here are fighting, cussing each other out, pulling guns, all KINDS of craziness all over...

GAS

Or should I say... the FEAR of the probability of not being able to get gas. The fear of straight up running out of gas and NEVER finding gas, every again.

Because that's what it is really about. Right? Right?

I must admit that I buy into it. Let's just say, if I see a gas station open, you best believe I stop and "top off" my ish. And that's coming from someone who MIGHT run through a quarter tank a week or a third of a tank on a crazy week.

Let's just say, I fillup once a month, so it's not affecting me too much. I don't know WHAT would be going through my mind if I had a real commute.

The thing is, one can find gas, but there is a long line. And we live in a fast paced society these days. NOBODY has the patience for that. And I don't want to get caught up in no lines. People are impatient, and that's a recipe for trouble.

My coworker Ol Mean Ass Cynthia was riding on fumes the other day. I told her EXACTLY where to go. There's a particularly scuzzy looking gas station about a mile from my house.

"Girl, go up there on the corner of Pryor and Abernathy. I don't ever go in there! EVER! It looks scary! I know if I'm scared to run up in there, you know the white peoples is. Go there!"

LOL!!

She ended up going to a gas station up the road from there, near the freeway. And she came back all wide-eyed, talking about long lines and arguments and stuff...

(Hard-headed broad. I told that chick where to go. HUMPH).

This worked for a couple of days last week... I could roll up in there and "top off", with no lines, no waiting, nothing.

Why is it that, on Friday, everybody and there Mama was up there? The line was LONG as all get out. And now, that station is out of gas.

Yep, it's become a straight up scavenger hunt for gas. I would've never thought that I would see something like this. I'd heard of the gas lines in the 70's. I remember my Mama and nem talking about it, but of course that wasn't important to me back then. I was more concerned about what time Scooby-Doo and the Flintstones was coming on, you see.

And this craziness is suppose to go on for another month. YIKES.

THIS Oldgirl has developed a strategy. And it seems to be working.

LadyLee's Bootleg "Get Your Dayum Gas" Tips:
(for ATLiens, that is)

1. Best place to find gas: THE HOOD. We figured out that it's harder to find gas way out in the suburbs. It's there, but no one wants to deal with a line. Another coworker, Detroit Meek-Meek, lives way the hell out in a suburb on the west side. She'd somehow got caught up driving through the hood and noticed all the available gas.

"The white people ain't found them yet," I yelled. "That's the place to go!"

2. Don't take the freeway to get where you need to go. Take the street way. I had a finance meeting yesterday out in East Point. I passed 10 gas stations on the drive back home. 3 had gas. There were long lines at two stations, and a short line at one. I am down to 2/3rds of a tank, and I didn't bother to stop. I am only down that far because I ran out to the southside twice (had to, for a funeral, and if it wasn't for that, well...), and I should be straight for a minute since I am doing minimum driving.


3. Start looking for gas when you are a quarter of a tank low, at least. These folks are running out of gas left and right. Start riding around BEFORE your needle hits "E".

4. "Top off" whenever you can. I think THIS is the reason for the long lines. People have gas. We're just topping it off here and there. It's a shame, but you gotta do what you gotta do. We dealing with all this fear of running out of gas.

5. Go out early on a Saturday or Sunday morning to get gas. This is my sister Kentucky's strategy. She's gotten up on Sunday mornings around 7:00 a.m. and has made gas runs to closeby stations with no problem. I just figured out that was what she was doing, because that girl sleep HARD if she don't have anything to do. (I shoulda made her butt take my car to whereever she went to top my ish off).

Anyway, I'm not in a panic. I live about 5 minutes from my job. I don't drive much. I'm cool.

I do feel for folks like my boss, who has a 70 mile round trip to deal with.

(No, on second thoughts, I don't feel sorry for management. HUMPH).

This whole situation reminds me of a book I read many years ago: Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler. The problem wasn't gas, as folks couldn't afford cars anymore and everybody seem to be walking or riding a bike to get to where ever they need to go. The issue was WATER, which, if I'm remembering correctly, was in rare supply and cost some 7 dollars a gallon. It was only available at "Water stations".

If you were able to get water, you'd better hide it. If not, you would get robbed or killed over it. People were standing around waiting for a sucka to slip up.

Now...

Knowing this, this "gas shortage" is not that bad. As a matter of fact, they said it will be over in 2 weeks to a month.

Things could be worse. Much worse.

But they are not.

We will all be alright.

Really, we will...

Those Crazy COUGARS: "Whistle on the Play!!"

(Okay, this may look like some ol' gossipy stuff here, but ya'll know me. *Lee gives the sideways peace sign* I'm your friendly neighborhood Oldgirl! So work with me here, okay? Just read. Stick with me 'til the end.)

Hand me that sm-, sm-, smoking platinum encrusted diamond microphone, Microphone Queen Sharon!

No...

This is NOT an episode of Animal Planet.

I am not blogging about our beautiful American cougars.

They are loving though, frolicking through the snow, searching for sustenance.

No, I'm talking about COUGARS!!!!

Older women who seek out the companionship of young virile men!

Well, lately there's been a particular story about a particular COUGAR in the media. If you haven't heard, read, or seen anything about this, you must be taking residence up under a big rock on some undiscovered planet somewhere.

A-Rod and that COUGAR Madonna.

That COUGAR Madonna is at the center of some mess.



Goodness. It hasn't all sunk in. Too many reports. And I have a tendency to turn the channel to Law and Order, the Lifetime channel, or... white noise. Anything to get away from it.

They say ARod been leaving her apartment at 2 in the morning. He's texting her back and forth, calling her his "Soul mate". She has introduced him to the Ka.bala faith. She's showing up at games and what-not.

And they are both hollering "We're just friends!!"

Yeah. A male "friend" leaves my house at 2 in the morning, there's a bit more than friendship going on. Matter of fact, I'm standing at the door, hair dishelved, in a silk robe making sure to lock the deadbolt as said "friend" scurries out the door.

LOL!!!!!!

Now there's a big mess. All I know, A-Rod's wife is raising a slight raucus, but she ain't a sista. A sista would be putting the verbal foot stomp on dude's head in the media right now.

A sista would be holding a pot of HOT grits while talking trash right about now.

I couldn't be married to a STAR who has the nerve to run around on me. WOW. I would line up all ten of our kids (yeah, I plan for some bull... I would've popped out a baby every 8.5 months, and a set a triplets somewhere due to all those fertility drugs I'd been wolfing down on the low-low) right in front of their rich and famous father...

"Come on, little children, line up now, from oldest to youngest."

*Children scurry to line up. Even the baby, baby Ladylee crawls into position*
*LadyLee waves hand in the air over her beautiful smiling children*


"Count em off, children!"

10 million.
20 million.
30 million.
40 million.
80 million.

*LadyLee frowns. Little 8 year old Ray-ray can't count well. That's alright because that just means more money for them all when they break camp and get the "bleep" out of dodge .*

The count goes on. My non-counting kids get up to 200 million.

"Yes dear," I say lovingly to my rich and famous husband. . .

"That's how much I'm sticking you up for for messing with that COUGAR."

Man...

A-Rod's wife is gonna CLEAN UP!!! And she just has 2 childrens!!

Dude got the nerve to be messing with Madonna.

I like Madonna. Especially that early stuff, from 25 years ago. I remember LadyTee and myself running around the house singing "Borderline", "Papa don't Preach", all those songs! Her Erotica CD is one of my all time favorite CDs. Madonna is the Man!!!

However, Madonna has been around the block ya'll! You hear me? She's slept with mens, womens, and even. . .

If I were A-rod's wife, I would really be talking trash. I would be talking so much trash that spit would be flying out of my mouth.

As That Original Oldgirl LBeezy would say:

*Whistle on the Play!*

*Lee blowing on silver whistle so hard that she pops a blood vessel.*

A blood vessel would bust in my eye. That's just how pissed I would be the moment I think-

"That broad slept with Dennis Rodm.an!!!"

Someone would have to give me an STD test REAL QUICK if I found out MY man had been sleeping with Madonna. REAL QUICK. I mean, I want the FULL battery of tests available.

And Guy Richie is looking like a straight up sucka right about now.

I wonder what's running through his mind? He sure did hop on a plane from England and get over to New York real fast, didn't he?

Hmmm...

What was THAT all about?

Man, I could not be all in the media. My bizness out in the street, all THIS type of mess. My life is pretty quiet and straight-laced these days (to some degree), but just thinking about the suckas I slept with in the past...

Let's just say...I could not run for the office of President of these United States of America. No. Sir.

*sigh*

I don't know what to make of it. I know what's central here is that I've been watching too much bubble gum media lately. Thank goodness my vacation is over. I can get back to my 10-12 hour workdays. (Never thought I'd hear myself say THAT)

It all made me think. Madonna is worth an estimated 600 million. A-Rod has signed the most lucrative contracts in baseball, some 150 million dollars worth, I think. I'm not sure what their respective spouses are worth, but we are talking at least 750 million dollars in cold hard cash. Pure wealth. Enough money to have or buy absolutely anything your mind could think up.

Just goes to show you:

All the money in the world can't buy you happiness or those intangible things which you so earnestly desire in your heart of hearts.

Good.

Ness.

Despite incredible riches and wealth, people are out there:

Seeking...
Needing...
Yearning...
Aching...
Crying...
Feening...
Wanting...
Wanting for something that they
Just.
Can't.
Buy.

**We pause here for a moment of silence so you can let that marinate**

(A little "Food for thought", Original Oldgirl style, slipped in there for you. Chew your "food" real good so you won't. . .choke.)

But all of this has me pontificating further. . .

I was watching something on television, and they said that a woman isn't considered a COUGAR until she's hit her late 30's, early 40s.

And I'm at the young COUGAR age. I'm 38ish...

Prime cougar age, ya'll.

And I seem to be displaying a few symptoms that would make me a...

COUGAR

To be continued...

(Shoot man. Ya'll know how I do. Amen, Holler, Goodnight.)

Roasted What?!?!?!

Cowgirl Cre and I share a cubicle, and we work with a lot of food products. She and I are not in the same group though. But for some reason, her group likes to bring all their "projects" to the desk and process them in the cubicle area.

Not sure what's up with that. But ya'll need to cut that out.

(Some folks where joking the other day. They had cartloads of stuff in the cubicle area. "LadyLee gonna come around that corner and run into everthing." If I didn't know any better, I would think that they were setting up a trap to make me fall on my face. Humph.)

Anyway, I was typing away on my computer (probably blogging, lol), and Cowgirl Cre was taring open plastic packages, making up all kinds of unnecessary noise. I turned around to see what she was doing, and she was dealing with what appeared to be some seeds or something. Couldn't really tell much from the jacked up non-english packaging.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Roasted Watermelon seeds," she answered nonchalantly.

*crickets*

"Roasted What?!?!?"

"Watermelon seeds, girl!"

So, I got real nosy and rolled over to her side of our cubicle, and looked in the bag. Sure enough, it was a bunch of watermelon seeds.

"Yeah right!" I said. "Don't nobody eat watermelon seeds!"

"Who the heck would eat some doggone watermelon seeds?" I asked.

Cowgirl Cre shrugged and kept fooling with the bags. Hen-Dog comes over, and we have an even bigger discussion.

I got even nosier, and decided to taste one. Turns out it is similar to a sunflower seed. You have to crack the shell with your teeth, THEN eat what's inside. It taste alright, but it is much harder to eat than a sunflower seed, and you know how much you have to fight with a sunflower seed shell.

But who would ever known of such of thing?

And for me, it kills that old stereotype for sure:

"Black people love watermelon."

But doggonit, who would've known the seed was useful? If anyone should know, WE should know.

The Asians like them a lot. Watermelon seeds are a REAL popular snack over in that part of the world, and they rival sunflowere seeds over there. Also, I found out, doing a little research, that tea made from ground watermelon seeds does wonders for cleaning out the kidneys!

"Man," I said. "Somebody could've been making watermelon seed butter."

*Cowgirl Cre gives the gas face*

"I wonder why George Washington Carver never did anything with watermelon seeds?"

*Cowgirl Cre laughs hard. (A bit too hard)*

Hmm... interesting.

My biggest memory concerning watermelon seeds is swallowing one when I was around 5 years old. I cried the rest of the day about it, because I thought a watermelon was going to grow in my stomach, an my stomach would bust wide open and I would die. I was mindful about that for a couple of weeks, before deciding that maybe a watermelon was not going to grow in my stomach.

So now, after all these years I have another memory about watermelon seeds.

Now... if I can just wrap my mind around the existence of square watermelons...



Geez. Folks know they come up with ideas, don't they?!