Entries in Back in the Day (82)


"Buzz Cut Scruffy" and "Yarnall Richie For Sale"

Mrs. G. doesn't look at her blog's Search Queries very often, because she is afraid she will see the words "Heifer Copeland Four Eyes" and know with certainty Philip Wong, her third grade bully -- no, her third grade affliction -- from Blessed Sacrament Elementary School, is searching for Mrs. G. to finally finish her off. You had to know Philip Wong to appreciate his devotion, his hearty enthusiasm for the follow through. So, when Philip Wong told Mrs. G. he was going to rub her out on the last day of school, she skipped the end-of-the-year picnic and called her grandfather and asked him to come pick her up early. She told him she had an earache, and he stopped at the Kroger on the way home and bought her an entire box of banana popsicles because he felt sorry for her. Mrs. G. considered the popsicles validation and sweet, sweet remuneration for her cowardice pacifism. 

The good news, based on the past several months of query searches, Philip Wong is not looking to finish what he started. Apparently, the trail is cold...unless you are the six people looking for a red hot hole. Mrs. G. hopes it's The Red Hot Hole she wrote about back during her son's Little League years. She really does.

Search Terms That Made Mrs. G. Smile

1) Hugh Jackman Smile

2) Disco Three Graces

3) Raoul Bova  (Raoul and Mark Harmon and Adam Levine are the most searched mancake in this blog's history)

4) Danskos Red

5) Blueberries for Sal

6) Handsome Hispanic Actors

7) Johnny Depp F%ck Off Island

8) Joseph Gordon-Levitt Glasses Funny

9) Dominoes Pizza Wedding

10) Cher Wallpaper

11) Dusty Springfield Legs


Search Terms That Gave Mrs. G. Pause and Confirmed Her Decision to Avoid Future Search Queries

1) Pee Inside The Toilet Bowl

2) Hot 40ish Hands

3) Sweaty Shins At Night

4) Hot Priest

5) Mother Like Bosom

6) Thongs

7) Clown Poop

8) Enema Bag

9) Bert And Ernie In Bed

10) Sudden Onset Of Adult Acne

11) модель эдуардо

These are just a few of the hundreds of search terms and the tamest fit to print. Search Queries. Like Philip Wong, they are hazardous to your health. Yes, Reader, the truth will usually set you free, but in this one instance, let ignorance prevail. Trust Mrs. G. on this one.

Or research clown poop. Mrs. G. can't save you all.


Personal Ad

mexican food

When Mrs. G. was 21, she answered her first and only personal ad in the Willamette Weekly, a local reader covering all the happenings in the Portland city and escort scene. The ad simply read...

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she will not buy halloween candy yet. she will not buy halloween candy yet. she will not buy halloween candy yet.


Mrs. G. joined Weight Watchers a week ago and decided to go all the way with the program and actually attend meetings. She went to her second meeting on Tuesday and she can't tell you she enjoyed it. The meeting room was painted an industrial green and the metal folding chairs were an uncomfortable reminder of how some asses fit better in chairs than others.

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Mrs. G's grandparents had a neighbor named May who lived five houses down from their brick ranch in Frayser. May was thin, brittle thin, and wore a troubling, roaming wig that was the same color as her skittish dog Cappy. Cappy was a Schipperke, a breed...

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This Blog Isn't All Hyperbole: The Full Meal Deal


As promised, Mrs. G. is sharing a post with evidence supporting many of the seemingly half-baked claims she has made on this blog over the last five years...

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after five long years, mrs. g's mom finally speaks for herself...on the this blog. she's always spoken for herself everywhere else.


Only Mrs. G's mom would send her kid to bum a cigarette from a stranger at the Kentucky Fried Chicken...

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mrs. g's mom, a kickass woman who, if necessary, will kick your ass


Today is Mrs. G's Mom's birthday. And while Mrs. G. has teased her remorselessly for her allegiance and reverence to George W. Bush (his framed photo is on her desk) and Bill O'Reilly, challenged her insistence that illegal immigrants like her yardman Juan (hard worker!) and her plumber Mohammed (lowest rates in town!) are responsible for all our country's cans of worms, and vexed her by clomping for thirty plus years in masculine shoes, Mrs. G. wants to take a moment to broadcast a simple truth: she loves her mama.

So, Reader, pardon Mrs. G. while she sips her coffee and cobbles together a tribute of sorts to the woman who birthed her and, despite the current namby pamby trend in healthy shmealthy, did it while smoking, drinking, gaining only eleven pounds and, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, not whining to everyone who had ears.

Things for which Mrs. G. thanks her mother:

1) For getting up most every morning in a good mood and dragging her single mother self to work...for supporting Mrs. G. without the benefit of child support or the luxury of an extended nervous collapse.

2) For pretending it was fun to drive a dented VW bug that couldn't reverse, broiled feet whether the heat was on or not and violently shimmied at freeway speeds.

3) For not allowing Mrs. G. to play with Tina O. (she was bad news), wear satin shorts, drink Tab, wear Lee Press-On nails to Mass or shave her arms.

5) For allowing Mrs. G. to read any book on the shelf. Reading I'm Dancing as Fast as I Can and Valley of the Dolls was far more effective in cementing Mrs. G's fear of uppers than Nancy Reagan's War on Drugs.

6) For sending Mrs. G. to college.

7) For blue in the face, 'til the cows come home, fierce loyalty. Mrs. G's successes are always no surprise; her failures are always flukes. Likewise, Mrs. G's supporters are wise and her detractors are shit heads. Period.

8) For never ending a phone call or visit with Mrs. G. without working in an unabashed declaration of love.


Things for which Mrs. G. does not thank her mother:

1) For pinching Mrs. G. when she screamed and writhed that time you put prescription drops in her eyes and then read the label three days later and discovered they were ear drops.

2) For the night you told Mrs. G. while sitting at a red light if she asked you one more time for hot rollers, you would roll the car into the intersection and kill us both.

3) For stepfather #2...an insurance salesman who bathed in Brut cologne, wore velour jumpsuits with built in belts and drove a blue pacer with racing stripes.

4) For wearing violet platform shoes and false eyelashes to parent's night at Blessed Sacrament Elementary School.

5) For insisting that Mrs. G. had serious and acute allergies and needed Benadryl whenever your friends came over to drink banana daiquiris play Bridge.

6) For that summer you were finding yourself and Mrs. G. found your and your friend Sheila smoking pot in the backyard.

7) For telling Mrs. G. that you were smoking pot with Sheila to support Sheila during her current round of chemo...when (after some sleuthy investigative work at a neighborhood pool party) Mrs. G. discovered Sheila didn't have cancer.

8) For...blah blah blah. It all evens out in the wash.

You were there, you were there and you were there.

Mrs. G. loves you. Happy Birthday.


The Plus Column


Mrs. G. talked to her mother yesterday during one of their weekly test of endurance phone calls, and the subject of Tommy Jordan, the guy who shot up his daughter's laptop (see video below) came up. Even Mrs. G's mother, who once beat the shit out of her second husband with a bakelite rolling pin in the middle of the front yard at 11:30 at night,* thought popping a cap in the computer was over the top.

"Did you ever want to open fire on any of my belongings?" Mrs. G. asked.

"Nah, but I could have shot you a time or two," she said. You know how some people tell it like it is? Mrs. G's mother tells it like it is is. Some people pretty up the past, but Mrs. G's mother lays it open like a road. It is what it is is.

"Why?" Mrs. G. yelped indignantly. Nothing her mother says surprises her anymore, but Mrs. G. has to play her part or it will become a one woman show, starring not her.

"Well there was the time you took to cleaning out the cat box with the vacuum cleaner. That was a fun discovery when I changed the bag and discovered a month's worth of cat crap in it."

"Yeah, that was bad," Mrs. G. admitted, "but I was nine and it seemed like such a practical solution."

"I remember taking your logic into consideration and that's why I didn't punish you. It was when you vacuumed up the dog vomit I imagined dropping the hammer."

"I would have preferred being shot to cleaning out that hose with a bottle brush," Mrs. G. mused.

"It all evened out in the wash...without me reading one of those simpleminded parenting books."

Mrs. G. quickly wrapped up the conversation before it turned to how her mother smoked, drank and only gained six pounds during both her pregnancies, ending with, "And you turned out fine!"

"Say what you want about my parenting but I never resorted to gun fire," Mrs. G's mother said proudly. "Be sure and put that in my plus column."


Done and done. 

It all evens out in the wash.



*Mrs. G's mother was justified in beating her second husband with a bakelite rolling pin in the middle of the front yard at 11:30 at night. His new girlfriend had called her earlier in the day. Mrs. G's mother drew blood and might have killed him if Mrs. G. hadn't tackled her around the ankles, knocking the rolling pin out of her hands and giving Mrs. G's mother's second husband a chance to make a break for it. Then Mrs. G. ran inside, called 911 and everyone whose phone number she could remember and screamed bloody murder at whomever picked up the phone. It was an outright Cracker Fest minus the banjo.

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