Wizzy 

Wizzy’s Wackyweed.....HELL ON WHEELS

Wizzy has taken a weekend vacation and a very good friend, RoughRider728, has been asked to write the Wackyweed for the week.  You are in for a special treat and need to read this quickly as it may be pulled faster than usual.  RoughRider is giving the readers a glimpse into what she calls "The Wild Child" Wizzy.  Read and enjoy. SL

I am going to take a stab at this since Wizzy is whining she doesn’t have time to do an update this week.  I will say it has been nice breathing this long. When she gets her meaty paws on me for writing this, I am sure I shall meet my demise! 

I am going to give you an insight to life with the wild child herself and what it can be like from a sometimes roommate. It is not often I am home as I travel for my work, but when I am home I get the privileges of having someone cook for me. Yes I do love to cook but she is far better at it then I am. Anyway, I sit here in a hotel in Dallas reflecting back on my long weekend in Portland. I arrived at the PDX airport Friday night and jumped in my truck to drive the forty-five minutes home. It is well after one am and everyone is in bed.  Even the dogs did not even greet me this time. I dumped my bags on the floor and collapse in bed, well after two thirty AM. 

I woke up to the heavenly smell of bacon and coffee. I stumbled out to the kitchen to find the sight of Wizzy standing in the tiny kitchen cooking breakfast. She had on her “Widow Maker” Orange County Chopper’s pants, which are bright red and black with motor cycles all over them.  She is wearing a blue T-shirt with a monkey who is missing one arm and the other one is holding a stick of dynamite on the front.  Her hair is sticking up in ways I did not know was even possible.  Her tennis shoes clop along as she turns from the stove and trips on one of the untied dangling shoelaces. She has such a sense of fashion! I managed to actually get a ‘morning’ out of her as I poured myself some coffee. We had a nice breakfast of egg’s benedict and bacon, toast, and orange juice.  She actually managed to make some small talk.  She’s not a very chipper person in the mornings unless there is a semi truck loaded with sugar involved!! 

That reminds me THANK YOU Shadylady for the Easter Peep’s candy you sent! You might as well have sent her speed! 

Ok, so we decide it is too icky a day to actually go play.  She had been down an out for the last few days, so staying home and cooking sounded like a good plan. She is planning on fresh corn and her “Secret Sauce” kabobs and salad.  Needless to say, we had no ingredients and would need to go shopping later in the morning. 

I caught up on the mundane things such as paying bills and all that fun stuff that adult’s are required to do.  It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of Jim Reeves and Patsy Cline crooning out some old melodies of times long past on the stereo. What made me stop and listen was Wizzy imitating Elmer Fudd’s voice to the songs. Now she has an incredible voice but what got into her I still at the time of this writing have no clue. She went from Elmer Fudd without breaking a note to Donald Duck.  I looked over and she is dancing; dirt dancing I might add with the broom out on the deck. 

It wasn’t ten minutes later when she reappeared and announced she was going to the store.  She had changed her clothes.  This time she wore a blazing orange Harley Davison tee shirt and a white pair of untied tennis shoes. Her shorts were three sizes too big with the crotch hanging well below her knees.  She had on a baseball cap pulled down low and side ways on her head. I think she does this to drive me nuts! I knew I needed a few things from the store so I said I would be right with her and I would drive us. 

Now if you EVER get the chance to go shopping with her… DON’T GO! We walked into Safeway and she pulls out a shopping cart and down the isle she darts. I had to run at a trot to keep up with her.  All of a sudden, she yells across the red and yellow peppers, 

“Honey, don’t forget the tampons and douche.”   

Her face was dead serious as she picked out the perfect peppers for her kabobs she planned on making for dinner. So there I am with everyone looking at me, my face redder then the peppers in her hand. She winked at me and off she tore to the aisle with honey and maple syrup.  

Now you think I would learn not to follow her, but it is entertaining to see what she will do next to shock people. She stopped and picked up a plastic jar of honey in the shape of a bear. When out of her mouth came the following line, 

“Hey didn’t the security people at the air port confiscate your pot pipe?”  Without a breath in between she continued, “You could turn one of these cute honey bears into a bong and it wouldn’t set off the metal detectors.” 

The woman beside her looked from me to Wizzy shaking her head scowling, when Wizzy turned and showed her the cute bear, 

“See isn’t he cute?” Wizzy asked the woman, “You see all you have to do it cut a hole in his belly right here and stick in a glass tube with a bowl on the end of it up this cute bears ass and drill a hole in the side here for a carb, (she jabs his ear with her finger) and bam you got a bong to sneak in the air port!” 

I thought the lady was going to haul off and smack her. I was praying she would, I was embarrassed to death by this point.  I know for a fact Wizzy is clean and doesn’t smoke that nasty stuff anymore.  She had this old woman listening and nodding her head and frowning as Wizzy explained the bong bear. Wishing her a wonderful weekend, off Wizzy ripped down the next aisle leaving me to smile and make an escape of my own. 

I caught up with her by the lobster tank.  Well, I should have known this would be a mistake as she was chatted so sweetly with the sexy red headed woman who ran the meat department. Yes you guessed it, she was well endowed in the chest region! 

I am not sure how Wizzy did it but sure enough, as I turned from looking at steak meat for our kabobs she had two lobsters on the floor calling out a race like the one you hear on the Kentucky Derby only she was mimicking a George Jones’s song. 

“Here comes ‘pride’ up the back stretch, heartache is goin to the inside...”  

She got louder with each course of the song until the meat woman pulled the plug.  Well by now, she had a good gathering of shoppers watching the lobsters slipping and clawing their way along the tiled floor. I watched as the red head stooped over and picked up both lobsters, plopping them back in their tank. 

Wizzy looked at the woman and smiled, got up off the floor and latched on to our cart and waltzed her way down the toilet paper aisle. I was not far behind her in hopes I could hurry her along and get out of the store before security called 911 on us. I was in a fit of laughter as she bent over wiggled her too big shorts in the air, and if her shirt had not been tucked in, I swear you could have seen the Grand Canyon.  She yanked out a package of toilet paper. Flipping it into the cart she headed down the aisle with me trotting behind her. The next thing I know there is a wall of paper towels falling down behind her blocking my path.  I am now laughing so hard I can’t hardly see as Wizzy yells loud enough for the people two aisles away to hear, 

“Lady I hope you’re going to pick up that mess.” 

I started picking them up putting them back in their rightful place but each time I would stack one back, two more would fall off.  I finally gave up and looked behind me to ensure no one was in the aisle and I quickly scooted around the corner out of that aisle once again looking for Wizzy.  

We stopped at the bakery to sample a piece of their fresh bakes apple pie when Wizzy started questioning the poor woman about why there was no cheddar cheese on top of the apple pie. The sign on the woman’s table read, “Just like Grandmothers!”  With rapid fire precision Wizzy explained to the woman that it could not be just like HER Gramma’s as HER Gramma added cheddar cheese to it! I was shrinking with each word.  Well she talked the woman into going and getting a brick of cheddar cheese and slicing it up! So we ended up with a small slice of apple pie and a nice sized slice of cheddar cheese on top! 

Next, it was onto the bottles of wine which she has poor tastes in unless it is a sweet, sweet wine. Now for anyone who drinks wine you will know a dessert wine does not go with steak and shrimp kabobs!  I talked her into a bottle of Merlot wine as well. We headed for the check out and I felt a wave of relief wash over me as we stood in line to pay. She paid for her stuff and set it in the basket waiting for my stuff to be rung up.  

I opened my wallet and she exaggerated a gasp and quickly faked a reach to grab my wallet hissing loudly at me, “You just found that credit card in the parking lot, you can’t use it here. You'll go to jail again like last time.” 

Well what can you say to something like that? You would think by know I would be immune to her antics but she comes up with new ones all the time! I handed the woman my card and she looked at it flipped it over and check to see if it was signed on the back, then politely asked me for my ID. 

The ride home was filled with light banter of our daily lives for the last three weeks I had been gone.  As she unloaded the groceries we had purchased she whistled a lively nursery rhyme. I think anyone who does not know her would say she has certifiably lost her mind and in dire need of Prozac! 

As she started in with the prep work for supper, cutting up the peppers and cleaning the mushrooms, I sat down sipping a glass of wine.  Little did I know she was gulping down glass after glass of it too? I watched her closely as she made her “secret” teriyaki sauce. I saw her use some Kikkoman’s soy sauce, some kind of powered mix and a sprinkle of something else, a dash of some kind of red powder, a large dollop of honey, and then I watched in amazement as she added coffee from the coffee pot to the bowl! Then she added half the bottle of wine we had just bought! By know I am thinking take out food is in order and started digging for the menus for food delivery. No way was I going to risk getting sick on a sauce she swears is a family secret! I think it took her two hours to prep the kabobs and make a spinach salad with fresh bacon and all! 

It was still too early to start cooking the kabob’s on the grill so off she went to play some PS2 games. This is where I could choke her.  She has this fancy TV (she now has one in every room) that is size of a football field! Well she turned off the volume on the damn thing and made her own sound affects! It sounds like a BAD Batman cartoon from the 60’s. (Oops dating myself here!). 

It was a little after four PM when she jumped up set the controller down.  She headed into the kitchen to start our fabulous dinner.  She startled me wide-awake from my cat nap. With the corn on the cob steaming on the stove, she speared the kabobs full of the meats and vegetables that had been marinating in her “Secret Sauce” all afternoon.  The grill was warmed and was ready to go. It wasn’t long before we sat down to one of the most wonderful meals I have had in weeks! Suddenly, I realized she was drunker then a field mouse in a silo full of silage! The bottle of merlot was nothing more then a shell of an empty bottle. She slurped and choked down her meal and raced back to her games before I was hardly even done with pulling the meats off the skewers! Needless to say I knew I was home! 

Now I have elaborated on this somewhat. It’s to you to figure out what is real and what isn’t. When she reads this next week after returning from her holiday, I will be in sunny California safe and sound till the next time I return home! It’s been nice knowing you all and thank you for taking the time to read about The Wild Child herself! She is going to kill me once she gets to a computer and sees this! Oh well such is life in the fast lanes,  

Take care and be safe, RR728.

Should anyone else have the golden urge to have a ramble, don't hesitate to get in touch with me.  This is a site for all and any time you have something to say, jump right in.

Later Taters,

Wizzy