the underworld. an introduction to hoarders

I was surprised as I greeted my Schwan's guy this week to find him jittery and uncomfortable. He blurted out, upon no prodding on my part whatsoever, that he had just come from "a hoarder stop."

"Whore??" I asked, in disbelief that my Schwan's guy would say whore to me.

"H-O-A-R-D-E-R," he spelled out and then repeated himself, turning to me, "hoarder." He was almost desperate looking.

Turns out, this lady hoarder is a regular on the Shwan's purchasing chain, but was new to our particular Shwan's guy Chad's route. He explained to me that, in an effort to be nice, he offered to carry the $300 dollars worth of frozen food into this woman's house. She was, afterall, "old and carrying an oxygen bag to breathe."

Well, that bag wasn't there for decoration. When Chad stepped inside, he was greeted by piles of garbage, magazines and rotted junk. He made his way through the landfill and into the kitchen. When he opened her freezer to unload the food, roaches and beetles came screaming out. This is a FREEZER! Can you imagine what was living under the rest of the mild temperatured items?

I can't. And I don't want to.

I've since learned that this woman, along with a projected 2 million other Americans, suffers from compulsive hoarding disorder. This disorder causes people to hang onto any and all items - often until it consumes their living spaces and in some cases, actually kills them. In my obsessive research on hoarders, I actually found a story of a man in England that died of dehydration in his home after becoming lost in his own maze of rubbish.  This hoarding stuff is serious, guys.

And I can only imagine that my sweet Shwan's man isn't looking forward to his Thursdays any longer, even though he gets to come to our fun and dog-loving agency. Hoarders - yet another member of my so-called underworld (A population of people who walk amongst us every day but in their spare time partake in activities that are creepy, deranged and often downright demented. Frequently, the underworld groups I'm uncovering perform such rituals that I only see appropriate for carnivals and freak shows. I'm steadily becoming aware of these groups most commonly from my crude roomate Neil, but also infrequently, from an everyday activity such as Shwan's food delivery. As a relatively sheltered girl from the South, it's staggering how common these additional underworld groups are popping up everywhere). This is starting to get scary.

Casts - They're for the Birds

Daily activities in which having a cast is humiliating, inconvenient and utterly dehumanizing - Part Une:

* Showering - Just when I thought the shapely fiberglass shell that covers my leg and foot was grotesque, the act of showering reared its ugly head. Cardinal rule #1 in castdom - thou shalt not get it wet. So, an OCD certified process of wrapping it with trash bags, rubberbanding it, and roping drop-cloths has become my morning ritual. From there, I try and avoid the mirror; the image of myself naked with that plastic-wrapped appendage is just brutal. And once in the shower, that plastic creation pokes right out of the curtain while my incredible balance enables me to soap up. Pretty much every step of this process brings me to tears.

* Walking - Due to the two-inch elevation the cast and "cast shoe" provides, an elevated right shoe is necessary as to avoid the uneven hobble often displayed by dwarfs and humpbacks. Thus, I was forced to purchase...[insert dramatic music]...the platform flipflop - in my mind only worn by the trashy and Playboy Bunny population. Putting my worst foot forward seems to be the forecast.

* Sitting - Dogs in the office are all good and well...until you're sitting at your desk minding your own business and you glance down to find the Jack Russell/Chihuahua named Roxy rapidly licking the toes protruding from your cast. Let me repeat the first cardinal rule of castdom - thou shalt not get it wet. This dog slobber... will remain until the morsel is removed.

* Running - Oh wait, I can't run. The weight gain has already taken hold of my stomach. The already horizontal slant of the bellybutton is only becoming more apparent by the day.

Part deux to follow...

Las Vegas - Fifth Time is a Charm

My sparkling and indulgent neighbor - Las Vegas - never fails to shock, surprise, satisfy and subsequently, exhaust me.

And each time I go, I bring home just a few pieces of Vegas. Each one, making me fairly thrilled that I don't reside in the city of sin. A few worth noting:

The Taxi Drivers

From a young gentleman who had a hip replacement to a man who was not the least shy with us about his past wife who was a Russian spy turned prostitute to a dirty talking Kenya man who could not pronounce "testosterone" - they were all freaks.

The Cheesy Shows

Not that somebody forced me to attend the Chippendales show, but nonetheless...I mean, UF!

Picture a room full of large, middle aged and geriatric women in a dark, seedy showroom rooting & drooling over near-naked steroid enhanced men, doing synchronized dances, kicks and self-groping in a variety of scenarios they've decided make up the female's sexual fantasy (fireman suit, police, cowboy, construction workers, you name it)...FOR AN HOUR. Add $24 drinks and VIOLA!

My advice: Save yourself the money..and dignity.

The Prevalence of the Pretzel Rolls

Vegas sure does love the trendy pretzel roll. And, some might see this as a pro (ahem...Michelle), but others prefer their standard bread, chips and other side dishes.

I won't be TOO negative, however. Positives include nightly performances of Circ du Soleil, delicious restaurants, phenominal accomodations, a pool of men eager to buy you beverages at any time, scharffenberger champagne and the ability to be completely anonymous or outrageous. You can be whomever you wish.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? Well, not entirely in my case. Meaaaaaaaah.

My Mom is a Fob

Yet another source of humor and excitement to get me through the desert days...

http://mymomisafob.com/