The Best and Worst Things My Grandma Taught Me... this one is a goody.

My Grandmother, Ida Willie Belle, was born in 11/11/1911. She grew up pulling cotton with her 9 other siblings in far west Texas. She went by the nickname Tiny and she was the rowdiest of all her siblings... and the smallest.
She used to tell me that she would routinely pass out for no good reason, but "figur'd it wuz cuz uh that time when I hit my head real hard walkin' a barrel."
To date, she's the best guitarist I've ever heard. She died over 10  years ago on Elvis Presley's birthday(January 8th)...which I'm sure she planned on because Elvis was kind of a big deal in my house growing up.

In fact, I really believed he was a relative until I was old enough to figure out that my family were just kind of nutty about the man and recalled his death as "the most gaht dam saddest day ever."

My Grandmother was not your typical old lady. She drove a mint condition 1967 cherry red Pontiac Firebird with a vintage decal that said, "Cherry Bomb." She would regularly do what she said was "blowin' the soot out'th'firebird." Which meant: She would drive this bad ass car about 90+ mph until she heard it "whistle." Then she'd say she had "blown the soot out." Now, at 35 years old, I know that was total bullsh*t.
On a few occasions, I would go on these "soot blowing procedures" and I found it to be absolutely terrifying and thrilling all wrapped up into one loud "AHHHHHH," fist clinching, body pressing to the back of the black leather seat with one-eye open, experience.

As a kid, she convinced me that this had to be done and so I would naturally believe I was "helping" by assisting her in listening for the "whistling" sound at MACH 5.

Another fascinating skill that my my grandmother demonstrated regularly was the "docterin' of animals." She had various vermin she'd take in to "doctor up" so that they'd be alright, etc... At one point I can remember her having 3 snapping turtles in the bathtub that she was administering some type of skin care to. They had names.

There was Haus, Raus, and Big Joe. She found these turtles somewhere on one of her "soot blowing" excursions and figured "they got be somethin' wrong with 'em cause a snappin' turtle ain't gonna be out in the middle of no street like 'at." She was right, but... it's a snapping turtle... no THREE snapping turtles. THREE.

I remember her puttin' Camphophenique and Iodine on their "bad places," (areas with disease) and I heard her yelp really loud and say, "Welp, o' Haus got me in the meat of my fanger, right 'cher, look. at. that. Woooooo, My word that hurts."

This snapping turtle bit a chunk out of her finger that should've required an Emergency Response Team, but instead, she threaded a needle and gave herself some stitches while talking to that turtle like this..."Naw Haus, now why'd you go n' bite on me like that when I's just tryin' to make you better. I guess you feelin' better naw ain't cha'."

She got these turtles up to par and released them back into the wild in a few weeks... long enough for her to find more things half dead to drag into the "operating room."

She had a cat named Foo. (it's already funny) Foo wasn't a flippin' cat though. Foo was part bobcat and was mean as hell. My grandma had "rescued" Foo from a trap out by our scary ass cabin in the woods- where we would go fishing in the cooler months of the year.

Foo lived in the house when it wanted to, and the rest of the time it lived in dark places with shadow demons.  Well, Foo got hold of my cousin's goldfish and bit a hole through it. My grandmother didn't give up the quest of "doctorin'" so she put her usual concoction of Camphor and Iodine and "dobbed in on the bad place."

She stuck a tiny part of an aloe vera plant inside the hole of the goldfish. The hole, by the way, was right in the middle of the fish. After about 4 days, the she cleaned the hole out again and that fish lived 5 more years. You could see right through it. No really, you could actually see through the fish! Foo was given a nasty talkin' to and was told "that fish ain't fer you Foo."  Foo killed a lot of things that couldn't be fixed though.

There are at least 13 other animal stories off the top of my head I could write out in this blog but I'll save those for later. Rest assured though, there were a lot of animals that got the "doctorin'." The most bizarre thing about all of these animals is that they would live a ridiculously long amount of time. WAY past the legal limit of most pets. Some of them were still alive by the time she died but they all passed on within days of her death. I think they all made a pact with Foo's shadow demon friends or something to go back to the netherworld... or as I call it- the crawl space under the house.

The story that defines the title of this blog is this one and the last story in this blog.. they are connected though. So bear with me and stay entertained. There's a great ending, promise...


My grandma would always tell me the bible verse about being kind to those less fortunate because "they could be angels among ya' unawares." I took a lot of things she said way too far. I was that kid that believed that every grown up was 100% right all the time, and I was 100% wrong for having a "gut feeling" about something.

Terrible really, but I was kind of stupid. Or still am... jury is still out on that.

I really believed her when she told me about the angel thing...

I was desperate to meet an angel and I was sort of obsessed with the thought that I might be able to meet one if I was super nice to the bums and wine-os at the Stop n' Go down the street. In retrospect, I think I actually believed that if some bum asked me for money, and I gave it to him,(but it was really an angel in disguise) that some type of confetti from heaven would fall down and a voice over (Bob Barker style) would say, "Congratulations Melodee! You passed the test! This isn't a drug addict loser with crabs, this is ARCH ANGEL MICHAEL!!!!"

Then I would imagine Michael the Archangel saying, "hey kid, sorry bout that, here's your 5 bucks back(I was generous) and all of us angels are super stoked about you, and so... we were wondering if you'd like to meet the whole team?!"  Sort of like a backstage pass to meet the ultimate superheros only way more kick ass.

So I explained to my grandma how I'd just given 5 bucks to some homeless guy when I went to buy her bread and milk and that it "wasn't an angel," because he took my money and obviously "angels don't need your bread and milk money do they Granny?" She would kind of walk away and get real quiet before she'd come back and say, "I'm going to blow the soot out of the Firebird."

She never told me anything different to do with the next round of bread and milk money, but she would say, "that man at the Stop n' Go ain't that angel your a' lookin' for. He ain't Meldee, he just a good fer nothin' drunkard and don't be talkin' to him no more, he ain't got a lick uh'sense left."

 So... Okay, cool... not that guy. Got it. Got it?

To this very day, her voice haunts me when I see homeless people/bums/wine-os anywhere in Dallas who ask me for money.

 I think "well, the second I don't give some of my change, it will probably be that angel or something..."  The other day however, I was thinking that and started laughing to myself as I thought, "Mel, if it was an angel, do you really still think he's going to say he is one?"
 (Angel says: Congrats I'm an angel, gotcha! Wow, you really fell for the ol' bum on the side of the I-35 & Medical District Drive trick? I'm an angel and you're an idiot for rolling down your window and giving me my booze money you dope!)

Then it hit me! Not the angel, but the thought hit me...

"I really have been expecting this for 30+ years?"  This got me thinking about all the other things I learned from Ida Willie Belle and somehow survived...  the list was 7 pages long.

Don't get me wrong, she had great advice most of the time. However, the advice she gave would be deemed nowadays as being terribly misguided and moderately dangerous to the average person.

However, saying that I'll say this....
I've never been afraid of anything. I'm not afraid to be in a "bad part of town," or to talk to people who don't look like me, or to help someone or an animal that looks distraught, sick, in trouble, etc... Maybe I'm still stupid, but I think there's some valuable sauce in that pot of advice she fed me.

Here's how I know that's true...
This story is the best one I've got in my bag.

My grandma had an open door policy. Neighborhood kids and everyone in the free world could come over at any time and open the fridge and eat anything in it. Little did I know as a kid that she was feeding all of us on a combined monthly income from my Grandfather and her's social security checks which totaled about 1000 bucks a month. My Grandfather was a veteran in WW2 and worked his whole life as an electrician for Phillips 66 and this is what they had to "retire on."  However, none of us kids knew anything about that. They never behaved like they were put out, or tired of helping people, or irritated by raising other people's kids. Every single day was a party.  Her relaxation came from rescuing animals, playing guitar in the living room, and "blowing the soot out" of that Pontiac Firebird. We couldn't afford to go to the beach one summer and she bought a 50 lbs. bag of navy beans and poured them on the floor so we could play as though it were sand... it was fantastic. Better than the beach in fact! (my Grandfather played the part of the Salt Water Crocodile that hunted us if we got too buried in the "sand." So much squealing and laughing... so much)  Anyway...

Here is THE story...
One day a man came into the house with the intent to rob us. (my grandfather wasn't there at the time for the record, and this story would've had a much different outcome if he had've been there)

He had a mask on, had a gun, and busted through the door saying, "Get down bitch, where is your purse, where's your F**KING purse bitch."

My grandmother literally didn't flinch.

She looked at him in the eyes and she said, "You outta be ashamed of yourself talkin' to a woman that way. Now listen here. I ain't gonna be talked to that way in my house. I'm gonna give you all I got but you gotta sit down here and eat breakfast with me first."

This man's face was white as a ghost. He trembled and said, "are you crazy or somethin,  I ain't gonna sit down here while you call the cops on me, shit, shit, hell no..."

She replied with, "I ain't gonna call the cops on you young man. I am just askin' you kindly if you will sit down and eat breakfast with me. You interrupted my breakfast and I'm just hungry is'all and I want to talk with you."

I was listening in on the conversation from the hallway by the kitchen and what I heard was nothing short of a miracle. My grandmother disarmed this man with words and truthful ones. She told him that he doesn't have to take the road he's on and that she would give him all her money, but if he decides to take another road, a better road, later on... "to kindly pay me back when you get set straight."

They finished breakfast, she handed him all the cash she had in her wallet, wrote him a check for 200 bucks, and told him she'd "talk to an angel or two" on his behalf.

Little did I know, until her death, that this man kept up with her and wrote her letters and sent her pictures of his life, loves, and now a family, etc... He walked up to me at her funeral and said, "You will probably remember me in a not so good way,  but I was the man who robbed your grandmother when you were just a little girl. She's been a great friend since that day and just so you know, I paid her back with interest."

 He continued to tell me that she was the reason, the ONLY reason he changed his life around. He was honest about how it wasn't overnight either. It took several years of trial and error and trouble before he got off drugs and began a new life... He did tell me though, that when he would ask her in his darker days and moments of guilt and shame as to why she was being kind to him or cared at all, she said, "sometimes you entertain angels unaware."

Good night Ida Willie Belle and I hope they let you blow the soot out up there... oh and don't pose as a bum on I-35 either because I'm not rolling down my window anymore.

The Narcissistic Bunny & Friends!

The blog is derived and dedicated to clarifying for myself and for everyone out there how to deal with a narcissist. The people, places, and events in the story have been changed to the world of bunnies. I will represent one of the bunny's in this story but that's all the help you get in determining the meaning of this blog. However, all stories are true and some have actually happened. I'll let you decide that for yourself. On with the story of...

Piddley Shitz the Narcissistic Bunny... and Friends! 

On Bunny Hill, a patch of land in Southwest Dallas, a bunny named Piddley Shitz and his girlfriend Skreamy Fitz were preparing for a summer carrot harvest. Piddley Shitz brought one of his litter with him, his name was Tiddely Bitz Shitz.

The summer carrot harvest was touted by Piddley Shitz as being the best one in the land and if he could only work that harvest, he would have enough carrots to be happy for the whole year. Skreamy Fitz agreed and was extremely interested in going along for the ride so that she could reap the reward for the carrot harvest and have enough bounty to justify watching "Real Housebunnies of Bunny Hill." Her favorite show!

Tiddley Bitz Shitz had a special bunny friend named Showboater Brown. Showboater Brown had light golden fur and a cute brown nose. Showboater Brown told Tiddley Bitz Shitz that she would visit him and his family during the summer carrot harvest on Bunny Hill. She was so excited to come and enjoy the festivities of the harvest and was so looking forward to meeting other bunnies who she had heard wonderful things about as well as some bunnies she knew from the Greatest Spinach Harvest on Earth a few years ago. Life seemed good for Tiddley Bitz Shitz. "This was going to be a great decision afterall," thought Tiddley Bitz Shitz.

Tiddley Bitz Shitz had forgotten that his father, Piddley Shitz, was a special breed of bunny called a Narcissist Rabbit and that Piddley's girlfriend, Skreamy Fitz was also classified as one as well but from a different region. Tiddley Bitz Shitz had not worked a carrot harvest with his father in a few years and in those years, Tiddley Bitz had grown and changed and accomplished much. In fact, Tiddley had also worked The Greatest Spinach Harvest on Earth for a short time which is how he met his friend, Showboater Brown!

Tiddley was so happy to share his stories with his father and celebrate his success with him until he started working the carrot harvest. Tiddley Bitz started to realize that he was only getting very few carrots and he rationalized that it was okay because he was at least getting to spend time with his father, Piddley.

After a few months of working the carrot harvest, Tiddley began to see that his father, Piddley was different indeed! "My o' my how different he is, and a bit of a mean bunny too," Tiddley Bitz thought to himself each night. "It will get better, my father must just be stressed out," Tiddley Bitz would say to Showboater Brown every day on their bunny phones. Showboater Brown would always encourage Tiddley Bitz to "hang in there," and "think positively about your father, he loves you!"  So, Tiddley Bitz would, and another day of swallowed intuition would fester in his bunny tummy.

"It's that time!," said Showboater Brown, who was coming to visit the carrot harvest that week. Both Tiddley Bitz and Showboater Brown were so excited to have fun in the sun and eat some delicious carrots with everyone. Showboater Brown was looking forward to sharing her adventurous stories and journeys of bunny life with Tiddley Bitz' family so they could get to know each other and bond over the love of the carrot harvest.

Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz had other plans...
(enter overlay of suspenseful music)

Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz had a dirty bunny secret in their dirty bunny brains. They don't like it when other bunnies share in their carrot harvest or tell their bunny tales of origin and adventure. They don't care for any other bunny except the bunny they see when they look in their bunny mirror. They want to tear down anything good that doesn't have something to do with themselves. What bunny would be so mean? A Narcissist Rabbit.

For those of you who don't know about the Narcissist Rabbit breed, in attempts to make this retarded story make sense, I'll educate you.

A Narcissist Rabbit lacks any other perspective but their own. They don't think that the other bunnies are as smart and savvy as they are. These nasty little rabbits don't like anything that isn't praise directed back to them. This breed also loves to argue and typically never knows much about what they are arguing about but other bunnies can't win the argument because the Narcissist Rabbit will resort to terrible bunny name calling and tactics that will annihilate the poor bunny that decided to have an normal conversation with them.

However, even though the Narcissist Rabbit thinks they are in control of every bunny in the world, and are the best bunny in the world, deeeeeeeeeep down in their bunny hearts they REALLY are tiny insecure self-loathing baby bunnies.  The Narcissist Rabbit will make a regular bunny feel as though they are not worth the poop on the ground because they (the Narcissist Rabbits) have unrealistic expectations for others and when those expectations aren't met, the mean ol' Narcissist Rabbit gets to blame the other bunny for their own failed attempts at success.

The Narcissist Rabbit doesn't view success in the same way a normal or successful bunny does. The Narcissist Rabbit will never be happy no matter how much success or control they have because again, they really, really, really, really hate themselves and need constant reassurance, support, praise, and affirmation that they are the BEST NARCISSIST RABBIT in the WORRRRRRLD.

Now, back to the story of the carrot harvest...

Tiddley Bitz Shitz and Showboater Brown were having a grand time at the carrot harvest. Why even some new bunny friends came over to join in on the fun! These new bunny friends had never enjoyed being in the company of Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz because they never were able to do what normal bunnies do and SHARE THEIR OWN STORIES IN A REASONABLE GIVE AND TAKE CONVERSATIONAL WAY. (throat clearing... sorry)

Showboater Brown is an enthusiastic bunny that loves to talk to people and get to know other bunnies because she genuinely loves other bunnies and wants to make sure that they know that she's grateful for being invited to watch the carrot harvest.
She even helps out when she can by lending her paw to Tiddley Bitz' family or chipping in on treats and documenting the harvest with a video camera so that Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz have a way of seeing their hard work in action!
But... Showboater Brown starts to get a stinky feeling in her bunny tummy about Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz's whole messed up vibe.

She never lets it get her down though and she continues to be accommodating and kind. Showboater Brown likes to follow the rules when she's visiting a carrot harvest. At each carrot harvest you have to make sure you wear your special visitors pass so that you can come and go, in and out of the harvest. The bunnies in charge of the harvest told her to "not lose that pass because you'll have to give it back at the end of the harvest visit." Showboater Brown took the boss bunny's advice and wore the badge each time she left the harvest to make sure she didn't lose it in her disheveled bunny bag.

Piddley Shitz saw Showboater Brown wearing her carrot harvest visitor's pass and made a bold and unreasonable opinion about it. Piddley Shitz gathered that Showboater Brown must be "showboating" and "brown nosing" by fraternizing with the carrot harvest workers and wearing her badge one time to a sushi bar. Piddley Shitz held fast to this mean unreasonable and false opinion of Showboater Brown until just the "right time."  The "right time" being when his mean unreasonable and false opinions of Showboater Brown could be used as a verbal warfare in an unrelated mean and unreasonable fight with his son, Tiddley Bitz.

He did just that.

After Showboater Brown helped clean up the carrot harvest final day and left to go back to her bunny home, Piddley and Tiddley Shitz left Bunny Hill to go to another carrot harvest. What happened to Skreamy Fitz you ask? She had to briefly leave the harvest because her daughter was having a litter of her own but she would be back, just as all the Fitz do... they always come right back.

One day at the new harvest, Tiddley Bitz was scoopin' up field mice and boppin' 'em on the head when he realized that Skreamy Fitz was mad as hell because he hadn't realized she was standing at the door waiting for him to say "Hello Skreamy Fitz, how's the new litter?"

Of course Tiddley Bitz was going to say hello that day and ask about the new litter but with the Narcissist Rabbit breed, everything must be done at the exact moment that they want it. If it's not, you have failed them and thus, failed at life as a bunny. Later that day, Tiddley Bitz was once again, pickin' up field mice and boppin' 'em on the head, when his father, Piddley Shitz, decided to have a talk with him.

Piddley Shitz had quite a talk indeed!

 Piddley Shitz made a mean ol' judgment call and told his son, Tiddley Bitz Shitz, that he was a terrible opportunistic, selfish, arrogant, and full of shitz bunny! Piddley Shitz had held on to moments in Tiddley's young life to use as a real-time barometer for his failure and suckdom life as an adult bunny.

What Piddley Shitz didn't like at all was that Tiddley Bitz is a much stronger bunny on the inside than Piddley is- because Tiddley doesn't say terrible mean ol' things back.

In fact, Tiddley doesn't say anything much at all! Tiddley knows that if he tries to defend himself, he will be caught in a briar patch trap set by his very own father, Piddley!

Shame, Shame, Shame on Piddley Shitz for the next part of this story....

When Piddley didn't get the reaction he wanted from Tiddley Bitz which probably he wanted something like, "You're right, your always right, your so right, I'm a big ol' poopy stinky bunny and you are an awesome powerful right bunny," well, ol' Piddley got pretty poopy after that.

Piddley had to hurt Tiddley Bitz even more by discrediting everything about his best friend Showboater Brown.

Now you may be askin' yourself how Showboater Brown has anything to do with this fight between Piddley Shitz and Tiddley Bitz, right? Welp, ol' Showboater Brown doesn't have anything to do with it in normal bunny logic, but she had to remember that she was dealing with a very special breed of Narcissist Rabbits who are crazy mean ol' bunnies by nature.

 Piddley Shitz said some really mean, unreasonable, and flat out retarded stuff about Showboater Brown. He thought ol' Showboater Brown was only talking to the other bunnies at the harvest because she was "sellin' his special carrot harvest technique." Just like Tiddley, he even said that Showboater Brown was full of shitz too!

All that mean ol' stuff to Tiddley Bitz , was like rollin' in briar patch thorns and he became real upset, rightfully so. His little bunny heart was broken into pieces. This made Showboater Brown really angry... which is hard to do because she is a peaceful breed of bunny ordinarily.

Now, Showboater Brown wanted me to write this blog so that there could be a little peace in her mind at night knowing that she told the tale of how the Narcissist Rabbits are, so that other kind natured bunnies of the world would be aware that this nasty terrible breed exists. They are rare, but they do exist, and they are the reason why "we can't have nice things."

Showboater Brown had to say a prayer and talk to a shrink friend of hers to understand the Narcissist Rabbits. She did pray for Tiddley Bitz to have inner strength to continue with the rest of the carrot harvests in the land, and to know that he is more of a special bunny than Piddley Shitz or Skreamy Fitz could ever know.

Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz don't deserve to know the extra special bunny things about Tiddley Bitz or Showboater Brown. Those special things that are gifts from God above should never be subjected to ridicule and mockery by the false bunny gods below. One day those Narcissist Rabbits won't be invited to work a carrot harvest, or a spinach harvest, or even to break bread with other bunnies because they forgot to be grateful, kind, to listen, to care, and to take the time to understand the world around them through a different perspective... the perspective that isn't reflecting back at them when they look in their bunny mirrors.


*if the person(s) not mentioned by name in this blog know who they are when they read this, there is hope for them. But sadly, I don't believe they would find anything interesting or of value that someone else wrote.... So.... hope everyone else enjoyed this ridiculous metaphorical story as much as I enjoyed writing it and venting it.