Posted in Family, Home, Personal, Relationships

You’re Always 17 in Your Hometown

When my son Brandon was almost 5 years old, he was diagnosed with leukemia. The next several months, we lived in the hospital, just him & I while Eric stayed home on the ranch with our daughters Dallas & Mikayla, protecting them from savage hogs, wild turkeys, and feral dogs while cooking nilgai & venison for 20+ hunters at a time. That was when they became “Daddys Girls” and Brandon became a “Mommas Boy.” Of course I had the natural bonding that occurs with moms and daughters… we share clothes, do midnight make-overs, I taught them how to cook, (oh wait, Eric taught them that!) kissed their boo-boos, and danced barefoot in the living room. Eric and Brandon went fishing, threw a ball to each other, changed the oil & tires on the cars, and all the other father/son stuff that I’m not privy to.

…but those few months together in the hospital, that’s when Brandon figured me out. He got my number. To this day, he can take one look at me and just know. I can’t hide my pain. We can be in the grocery store or at a concert, surrounded by people, and the slightest change in the furrow of my brow tips him off. Without saying a thing, he’ll put his arm around me, kiss my cheek, and throw me a smile that makes my heart leap. He says, “You okay, Mom?” without ever saying a word. He’s growing up now. He towers over me at 6 foot tall, and today is his birthday. There is a lot of wisdom packed in to that 17 year-old brain of his and I’m proud of every moment of his young life. I hope that I have been as good of a mother as he has been a son to me. I especially hope that this birthday and the year that follows is the best he has had so far in life and will continue to get better with each passing year.

I love you, Brandon. Thank you for being you. I could not be more proud of the man that you are becoming.

p.s. That’s 2 Ragweed references in one week! There must be some red dirt on my cowboy combat boots. Sandy Pants would be so proud!

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Posted in Home, Television

Are You in Good Hands?

For years we had the Time Warner Cable home phone/internet/cable bundle and that was great. Except for the insanely high monthly bill. And the spotty cable reception coupled the shotty internet connection. And let us not forget the craptacular customer service offered through TWC. I put up with it for years for two simple reasons: 1) The DVR boxes with fast forward capabilities and 2) I was willing to suffer so I could watch my beloved cable series shows. (True Blood, Weeds, Camelot, The Bourgeois) As they say, all good things must come to an end, and eventually, so did my relationship with Time Warner Cable. When it was over, I paid a tearful farewell to my DVR box, the cable guy practically ripping it from my broken-hearted clutches. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic. I’m sure it was just dust in my eyes or something. At any rate, it was gone and I was left all alone. Left all alone WITH FREAKING COMMERCIALS. God, I hated commercials. If I’m really enthralled with something, I can’t stand to be interrupted and commercials interrupt entirely too much. I made it a habit of cleaning during every commercial break. Seems like a win-win, right? I don’t have to suffer through adverts and when my show is over, my living room is clean! (BTW, this really works! You should try it sometime, it doesn’t feel like cleaning at all.) But my motivation to clean for 2 minutes and 30 seconds at a time eventually dwindled down to, “Screw it, I’m not getting up anymore. This couch is way too cozy.” I’m sure some people just channel surf during commercials and that’s fine if that works for you. Me? Not so much. I have a memory equivalent to Dora’s from Finding Nemo when it comes to television. I can get immediately sucked in and wrapped up in something on a different channel in 15 seconds flat. Then, by the time a commercial comes on for that channel, I remember… “Oh yeah! I was watching ‘Shark Week’ on Discovery!” Now I’m torn between that and VH1’s Top 100 Rock Artists Of All Time. (Thanks, VH1. It’s not like I had anything planned for the next 5 freakin’ hours or anything! …and I swear to God, if Beatles are #1, I’m gonna throw this flip-flop right through the screen at you!”) *Ahem* Sorry, back off track again. It’s that Dory thing kicking in.

So there it is. Basically, I’m too lazy to get up during commercials and I’m too unfocused to remember to come back to my channel after a couple of minutes, so I just sit there, the couch potato that I am, and suffer through the ridiculous advertisements that some “genius”  has come up with where they have exploited the Misfits to sell rum or Depeche Mode to sell fabric softener. (That’s a blog for another day.) But occasionally, there really is some “genius” out there and that Dory thing kicks in. I find myself completely absorbed in the commercial. Especially insurance commercials. These guy have nailed it.

The Farmers Insurance University featuring Professor Nathaniel Burke (AKA JK Simmons) are hilarious and leave me wondering what the student will learn in the next commercial. How about the Progressive Insurance commercials featuring everybody’s favorite ‘bump-it’ haired girl, Flo? Those are amusing, too. I wanted to be Flo for Halloween one year, but the kids talked me out of it. Something about that being lame, I can’t quite remember the teenage lingo used, but I’m pretty sure it would’ve embarrassed them. Then there is my absolute favorite: The Allstate ‘Mayhem” commercials are fantastic! Not only is Dean Winter an eyeful of candy, but the premise to these are brilliant! (Especially when he is a teenage girl.) Last, but not least, there is GEICO. Good God Almighty, what the hell are these people thinking? We put up with cavemen, googly-eyed money stacks, a gecko lizard and some of the weirdest shit to come out of television advertising. Nobody really knows where you guys are headed and for the most part, we really don’t care. You suck, GEICO.

In the end though, does it really even matter? I mean, have you ever actually purchased insurance because you saw a commercial? (Buying insurance from ‘The General’ doesn’t count. Any company that offers $39/month car insurance to “anyone with a pulse” can’t afford a big marketing campaign.”) The only thing I remember buying because I saw it advertised on tv is pretzel m&ms. When they first came out with those, we had to have them. The kids had me stop at every grocery/convenience/drug store in New Braunfels until we found them (seven stops later) at the new Walgreens on 725.

One more thing… GEICO, I do kinda dig your Maxwell the piggy campaign.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!


Posted in Uncategorized

The Tale of Two Princesses Part II

Our two princesses kept in touch with each other through a form of pigeon mail called my space. They laughed and shared stories like they used to when they slaved away at the Evil Empire. Princess Liz would record her stories on a form of parchment called blogs and Princess Sandy loved to read the tales. The two friends missed each other’s company very much. Princess Liz was extremely happy working on the river. She didn’t have much experience in the office because she had always worked in taverns. She would ask Princess Sandy (also known as the Excel Wizard) for help and advice on how to perform her duties correctly and efficiently. Princess Sandy decided to ditch the office and see what it was like to work in a tavern. She would ask Princess Liz (also known as Miss Liz!) for help and advice on how to perform her duties correctly and efficiently…

Once a year, something very special happens in a tiny, tucked away place called Plantersville, Texas. It is the largest event of its kind in the entire world! It the fair of all fairs and the festival of all festivals! Some people call it TRF, others refer to it as Ren Fest, and still some call it by its complete name: The Texas Renaissance Festival. “Rennies” come from lands far and near to celebrate. You can find Wenches, Fairies, Gypsies, Pirates, Archmen, Lords and Ladies, Wizards and Sorcerers, Jousters, Peasants, Artists, Kings and Queens, and Clansmen of all kinds. Many, many moons ago, Princess Liz worked at the Musketeer’s Banquet in 16th Century France. There were wonderful feasts and spirits to choose from like Homme de Mer, Shrimp and Crawfish Etouffe, Sausage on a Stick, Dragon Meat (fried alligator), Chanticleer’s Chicken Breast on a Stick, Boudin, and Ye Olde Muffaletta. This year’s festivities will be exceptional, as TRF will be hosting the Kings Thanksgiving Feast. Opening weekend of the festival is October 11th and 12th and Princess Liz is going to attend. Miss Liz! noticed that on the same weekend, Stoney La Rue and the Randy Rogers Band would be playing at Gruene Hall for the Gruene Music and Wine Festival in New Braunfels. Princess Liz sent Princess Sandy an urgent message telling her she was welcome to stay at her castle if she wanted to come to New Braunfels for the festivities. Princess Sandy replied that her and Friar Tuck would be attending the Ren Fest that weekend and wouldn’t be able to make it. Princess Liz was so excited to see her friend again! In fact, she was very excited because she knew she was going to see several of her friends, again. The wench named “Lusty Busty Dusti,” Lord and Lady Cain with their new bundle of joy, Lord and Lady Sommerville, and the Great Lady York would be there as well!

Princess Liz and Prince Eric will be spending this week getting prepared for their travels to Plantersville. Prince Eric will be inspecting the chariot for the long ride ahead of them as well as preparing many of his delicious treats. Princess Liz will be planning the day’s activities, preparing her garb, and packing for the trip. They will be staying with her sister, Lady Grace and her husband, Lord Cliff. Lord Cliff has been busy preparing the huge bonfire and fireworks display that will be held on the property.

Yes, as Summer draws to a close and Fall is upon us, the leaves are falling from the trees, the nights are getting cooler, the days are getting shorter, and the air is getting crisper, Princess Liz is getting full of excitement and anticipation of next weeks events. For the opportunity to see an old and dear friend, many or few, is always, ALWAYS….

A happy ending…

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The Tale of Two Princesses

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago (about 2 years ago), in a far away land called Houston, there were two young, beautiful princesses named Liz and Sandy. Liz and Sandy were forced to slave away at desk jobs in the Evil Empire. The Evil Empire was run by a Witch Doctor who practiced voo doo. The two princesses were the most brilliant and fairest in all the land. They were loved and adored by the people, and this angered the mean old Witch Doctor. They were banished to work together in a tiny office in the back of the Empire, furthest away from everybody. The two princesses didn’t mind being exiled to the back of the Empire. There, they could talk together about what it would be like to one day be free. Once a day, they were allowed to leave the Evil Empire for nourishment. They would slip away, out the back door and have wonderful lunchtime adventures together where they would sample the cuisines from far away places. They would have Thai food with fish oil, Hoisen sauce, and fresh carrots and cilantro. They would sample the tidings of a place called Classic Café that had amazing sandwiches with juicy turkey breast, cream cheese, avocado, and alfalfa sprouts. They ate roast beef and horsey sauce from a mystical eatery called Arby’s. Ah, yes, this was one of the best parts of the day for our princesses…

At the time, Princess Sandy was pregnant with a baby boy she later named Cody Stone after her heroes, Stoney La Rue and Cody Canada. They played the most harmonious and magical Texas Country music. Sandy was so moved by their melodies, she couldn’t resist naming her 3rd born son after the pair. Princess Liz also had a child she named after her heroes. Her first born child, a daughter, was named Dallas after the Dallas Cowboys. They were the best and mightiest knights in all the lands! Princess Sandy had two other sons, Sir Maximus and Sir Zachary. Princess Liz had two other children also, Sir Brandon, and Lady Mikayla. Maximus, Zachary, and Brandon were destined to become Guitar Heroes and they practiced diligently day and night. Lady Mikayla was fierce and strong and she was destined to become a Dragon Slayer. When the day came for Lady Mikayla to slay the dragon, she instead befriended the dragon and he became her constant companion. He was always at her side, protecting her from evil, and she named her dragon Hamilton.

As the long days would drag on at the Evil Empire (Monday through Friday 8 – 5), the beautiful princesses would talk about the days gone by. Princess Sandy spoke of a beautiful land called New Braunfels, where the Texas Country music was plentiful, there were two glorious spring fed rivers with the cleanest waters (unlike the dirty and polluted water in Houston), and clear starry nights, all surrounded by the magnificent Texas Hill Country. It sounded wonderful to Princess Liz and she dreamed of one day living in a place as wondrous as New Braunfels!

Princess Liz would tell Sandy stories of a time when she was a barkeep at the tavern. The stories were silly and humorous and Princess Sandy loved to hear the tales. She was intrigued by the idea of getting tipped and going home with gold and riches in her pocket everyday! Princess Sandy had never been a barkeep before, but she sure knew a few things about taverns! She had sampled plenty of ales and lagers and had drunk many tankards of different grogs. Her favorite concoction was a liqueur called Jagermeister.

One day, Princess Sandy didn’t come to work. She was very sick and had to go to the hospital. This saddened Princess Liz and she was very lonely. One day, after the chains and shackles were removed at 5:00; Princess Liz went to visit her friend. She snuck in candy bars and sodas. She brought Princess Sandy magazines and books with crossword puzzles, word searches, and Sudoku’s. The two giggled and gossiped until visiting hours were over and Princess Liz was forced to leave.

The next few weeks at the Evil Empire, Princess Liz was miserable. She missed her friend terribly and the mad and jealous ranting of the shriveled old Witch Doctor was almost more than sweet Princess Liz could bear. One Friday, during her lunch break, she rode her chariot to her castle to grub on the delectable tidings created by her husband and chef, Prince Eric. By the time she crossed the threshold of her castle, tears were streaming down her face and her blue eyes were the bluest they had ever been. Prince Eric consoled poor Princess Elizabeth. He wanted his fair maiden to be happy and he knew the only way he could make her happy was to help her flee the Evil Empire. Prince Eric plotted and planned their escape. That very weekend he took Princess Liz to the magical land of New Braunfels. It was just as beautiful and peaceful as Princess Sandy had promised! The two fell in love with the land and immediately found the perfect castle. The castle was made of brick and looked very similar to all the other castles, but it was nice and there were plenty of children for the young lads and lasses to play with. The rivers were all that Princess Liz had imagined they would be. The wildlife was wild, the hills were hilly, the forest was forresty, and New Braunfels had the bluest skies in Texas!

Princess Liz and Prince Eric were quite content in their cookie cutter castle on the cul-de-sac. They worked on the river and enjoyed fishing, camping, swimming, and rafting. They lived happily ever after. Sadly, Princess Sandy and Princess Liz never saw each other again. After Princess Sandy was released from the hospital, she never returned to the Evil Empire. With the help of her sister, she was able to escape to a land called College Station. There were a great many people from a clan called Aggies and Sandy knew this wasn’t where she was meant to be. Princess Sandy yearned for more out of life and knew that one day her luck would change. And one day, it did… She had met her Prince Charming, otherwise known as Friar Tuck, or to her, King Louie and together they settled down in a cookie cutter castle on a cul-de-sac and they too, lived happily ever after.

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Don’t Be Cruel To A Heart That’s True

It happened again yesterday afternoon. This time it was a guy I knew from high school. We haven’t seen each other or talked (offline) in 20+ years. Oh sure, we “like” each others pictures on Facebook occasionally and have complimented each others kids, but that is as far as our relationship has ever gone. Yet, he was the first person I thought of when I woke up this morning. Before I even got out of bed, I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and checked his FB page. I didn’t see what I was hoping to and got out of bed disappointed.

What, you may ask, was it about this guy that had me awake at night and stalking him in the morning? Let’s go back to yesterday afternoon. I was scrolling through my FB newsfeed and “48 minutes ago,” he posted that he was broken down on the side of the road… aaaaand, nothing. Not a single comment. This is a guy that was popular in high school, had a lot of friends, and was genuinely a nice guy. So I was surprised to see that there were no offers to help: “Hey dude, where you at? You need a lift?” or even offers of sympathy: “Damn bro, that sucks. If I was in town, I’d lend a hand!” I felt bad for him. It was triple digit heat yesterday and he’s kind of a big guy. I kept wondering if he was still sitting on the side of the road, furiously hitting “refresh” on his mobile app waiting for someone to offer to come help. Did he have to call a tow truck? How was he going to get to work today? How was his son going to get to football practice? Why didn’t his mom at least comment? Does his mom even have a Facebook? Wait, that’s irrelevant. Nevermind.

The point is, I felt for him. I always have this overwhelming desire for all to be right in the world. I tend to be overly compassionate. (Is that even possible?) My maternal instinct is in perpetual overdrive. Not just in real life, but in fiction, too. Books, television, and even movie characters get my sympathy. I get embarrassed for characters to the point that I bury my face in my hands, occasionally peaking through my fingers so I don’t suffer with them. Yet, I do. If I were a witch or comic book character, I would be an “empath.”  I do not like surprises or practical jokes. I’ve always felt that a joke at someone else’s expense is not a joke at all. It’s just mean. I don’t like hidden camera shows or those horrible MTV shows. I do not like “Tosh.0.” I feel pain for the guys on “Jackass.” I want to take away the embarrassment, shame, and hurt from these people. I want to hold them, stroke their hair, kiss their forehead, and make them feel secure. I am the underdogs cheerleader. It’s a cruel, cruel world. But I’m not jaded. I’m the kind of girl that trusts until you give me a reason not to trust. I assume first that you are a good person until you prove otherwise. I have faith in God and man.

So there I was, at 6 o’clock this morning, stalking the profile of a guy, who for all intents and purposes is a practical stranger, hoping to find an update: “The car was a towed to a garage and I took a cab. I’m home safe with the wife and kids. Just rollin’ with the punches, ya know?” but, of course, there was nothing. Just his lonely post about being broken down “13 hours ago” sans comment. I thought about sending him a private message: “Just wanted to make sure you are okay. I saw you were broken down and I’m concerned for your well-being. Let me know you made it home safely!” but that would just be weird. And kinda creepy.

So, I’ll just sit at here at my desk, wondering if he’s okay, reading the news and suddenly feeling emotional for people I don’t know. It’s not the worst trait in the world to have. It has be better than being than being a sociopath or psychopath, right?

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Posted in Family, Food, Home, Personal

From River Goddess to Domestic Goddess

It was last Tuesday and I had to stay home from work to be with my grandson who was sick. My daughter couldn’t get out of her shift at work and he couldn’t go to daycare so I got to play hooky from my job! Seeing as how I’m usually a “river goddess” it had been a long time since I was a “domestic goddess,” but I was up for the task.

I woke up on a mission. I had big plans. I was going to show those stay-at-home-moms that working-moms could do it, too. First things first, I thawed the venison and began prepping for the pot of chili I was making for dinner. My can opener wouldn’t work. I had to open the tomato sauce, ro-tel, and chili beans by hand. That totally sucked. Moving on… I got all the ingredients in the crock pot, cooked the venison, added my spices, turned it on low, and felt pretty good about myself. Dinner would be ready by 7pm. I decided to wait to make the cornbread so it would be warm and fresh when I served it. In the midst of getting everything ready for the chili, I realized my pantry was a total disaster. I decided to go ahead and clean it out. That meant taking everything out of there, placing it on my kitchen table, dumping the expired stuff, and putting it all back in an organized manner. By now, my grandson had woken up from his morning nap and was a wee bit on the cranky side. After a diaper change and snot-wiping, I decided he was hungry and set him up in his high chair for some juice and a snack. Bear in mind I had the entire contents of my pantry piled on the kitchen table. I kid you not, I turned my back for 3 tiny seconds to fill his sippy cup and BAM! I heard it. It sounded like a rain stick or a kaleidoscope. I turned around to see that he had poured an entire 16 oz package of brown rice all over the kitchen floor. And the table. And his lap. And his high chair. And I’m pretty sure there was rice in my chandelier. Do you know how difficult it is to get every piece of rice up from the kitchen and a toddler? Neither do I because I’m still finding rice over a week later. That shit multiplies when you’re not looking. Meanwhile, what felt like an hour later, the floor is swept, my grandson is relatively clean, the chili is smelling good, and I’m ready to tackle the pantry. As I put things away (like items go together) I notice a can of evaporated milk, a can of pumpkin (when did I buy that?) and a box of graham crackers. That’s when I decided to make a dessert to go with my bad ass home cooked meal. That’s also when my grandson decided that he needed to play with every single toy he owned in the middle of the kitchen floor. (Dang, that little dude is fast! How did he get all that stuff in there so quick?!)

Now that the pantry is complete and Lyric is watching the Disney Channel, I sit down with my goodies to see if I can put together some sort of dessert. The back of the graham cracker box has a recipe for a crust. The back of the pumpkin has a recipe for pie. I decide to wing it and make pumpkin squares. I remembered a recipe for cream cheese frosting that only had 3 ingredients. Things were coming along nicely. I used the manual can opener (again, ugh) for the pumpkin and Pet milk, whipped it all up, placed it in the oven, went to set the timer, glanced at the clock, and… HOLY FUCK! it was already 1:30 in the afternoon! Where did my day go? We didn’t even stop for lunch! My daughter was due home from work in two hours and I felt like I had accomplished so little. I kicked it into high gear, cleaned up my mess, washed all the dishes, put Lyric down for a nap, made my frosting, took the pumpkin bars out of the oven to cool, made 2 dozen corn muffins, and plopped my butt down on the sofa to relax. Two minutes later, my daughter walked in the house…

Looking around at all the toys strewn about the living room and giving me a hard once-over, she says, “Dang Mom, I thought you had big plans today! Have you just been sitting on the couch all day doing nothing?”

I look down at myself and realize I am still in my pajamas, my hair hasn’t been brushed, my teeth haven’t been brushed, and yesterdays make-up looked a lot better yesterday. I was a hot mess and so was the rest of the house. (except the kitchen) So, props to you June Cleavers out there. I may be able to manage multimillion dollar businesses, wildlife creeping into the campground, drunks, sunburns, medical emergencies, hungover and late staff, and most any computer-related disaster handed my way, but managing to put myself together while caring for a sick toddler, preparing meals, and keeping up with the housework seems to be outside my realm of capabilities. Hats off to you stay-at-home-moms! Your job is HARD.

We did enjoy a nice chili and corn muffin dinner at the clean table, followed by delicious pumpkin bars. It’s highly probable those dirty dishes are still sitting in my kitchen sink one week later. Dallas was exhausted from her day at work, I was exhausted from my day not at work, and Lyric was exhausted from being sick and playing. We cuddled on the couch and watched ‘The Godfather.’ (Don’t judge me. It was ‘Mob Week’ on AMC and they made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.) Actually, the point of this blog was to share with you the recipe for my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants pumpkin bars that I threw together and came out fabulously! So, here ya go:

Miss Liz Pumpkin Bars

Crust
1 1/2 cups ground graham crackers
1/3 cup sugar
6 tablespoons butter
Mix it all together and press into the bottom of  8 X 11 pan

Follow the directions on the back of the pumpkin can and add 2 cups flour. Pour entire mixture over the graham cracker crust and bake at suggested temperature for suggested time.

Cream Cheese Icing
8 oz. cream cheese, softened
1 cup powdered sugar
1/4 cup butter, softened
Mix it all together, store in fridge, spread on cooled bars and top with sprinkled nuts!

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NOW GET YOUR GRUB ON!

Posted in Uncategorized

Stereo-Coding

I’ve been taking reservations for a wildly popular campground in a tourist town for over 5 years. Everyday, I field hundreds of calls from all over Texas and beyond. I’ve learned how to answer most of the questions I get in the fewest words while giving the most information as possible. In layman’s terms, I’ve “dumbed it down” to about a third grade level of comprehension. Still, I speak with people who just don’t get it. Lucky for me, a little thing called “technology” introduced me to my best friend: Caller ID. Yeah, I know… it’s been around for a couple of decades, but for me, it’s an essential tool. Before I even answer the phone, I can usually tell the way the conversation will go. I know I’m giving in to geographical stereo-types by judging a person based on their area code, but hey, after 5 years of this, I’d say my sweeping generalizations tend to be correct more often than not. That being said, here is a little list I put together based on my experiences, and yes, based on area codes:

(512) ~ Usually my favorite phone calls to take. These people tend to be receptive to what I say, usually understand rates & rules on the first go-round, and are almost always laid back and friendly.
(512): Can we drink at your campgrounds?
Me: Yes, absolutely! We just don’t allow glass or styrofoam.
(512): Right on! Thank you very much!
Me: Is there anything else I can help you with?
(512): Nope, that’s all I needed to know. You’ve been a huge help… see you Friday! Thanks, again!

(210) ~ These callers tend to think of themselves as “locals” (they are not) and almost always complain about our fees. They tend to be coming out for day passes, picnics, and primitive tent camping. There are usually large groups with lots of children, extra person fees, and extra car fees. For 210’ers, that’s a problem.
(210): Yes, my family would like to come out just for the day and bbq. Is that free?
Me: No, ma’am. Day passes are $20 per car on Sundays for up to 4 people over age 8.
(210): *gasp* Really? That much? But what if we want to only stay for a few hours?
Me: The fee is the same if you stay 2 hours or 12 hours.
(210): How much is it if we have more than 4?
Me: Each additional person in the car pays $5.
(210): But what if they are coming in a separate car?
Me: It’s a per car fee, ma’am.
(210): *gasp* REALLY? My God, EACH car is $20? Even if they are coming with us to our site?
Me: *exacerbated* Yes, ma’am, every car that comes through the gate gets charged.

(337) ~ Our border neighbors to the east. Man, I love these people! That’s not saying their reservations aren’t hard, because they are, but they have all the patience in the world. If they are in a hurry, they won’t let you in on that secret. They travel in packs, so once I get one call, I know a shit ton of others will soon follow, all of them trying to get their RV’s side-by-side. Now, I’m not going to pretend that I can talk or type like a Cajun, so no typical phone exchange examples here. Just imagine taking a reservation from The Waterboy and Swamp People who are full of southern charm and don’t mind repeating themselves when you say, “what?” …and trust me, I say “what” a lot.

(214, 972) ~ These people tend to be procrastinators with a sense of entitlement.
(214): I have a 46′ RV (no, you don’t. It’s 42′ at best, but that’s still a stretch) and I need a site for this weekend. Preferably a premium site, but as long as it’s riverside.
Me: I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have anything available for this weekend.
(214): You’re joking.
Me: No, I’m not. I’m sorry.
(214): *miffed* Hmmmph, well, what am I supposed to do now?
Me: You can try a different campground.

(713, 281, 832) ~ I saved the best/worst for last. Space City. H-Town. The Dirty H. The Bayou City. The Third Coast. She has many different monikers to reflect the melting pot she has become. This is me, my hometown, where I was born and raised and love to spend the weekend once or twice a month. But seriously… you people suck. Your phone calls are the hardest to take. When I see your area code pop up on the Caller ID, my tummy fills with dread. I pray that you’ll let me off easily with a quick and painless death, but hell no, you slowly suck the life from my soul. Fuck you. There is no good example for these calls. They are almost all shit.

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**DISCLAIMER**

Oh, for the love of God, do I really have to post a disclaimer? Apparently so. Look, if I forgot your area code, it’s because you people are fine. I have no qualms or boasts with you or about you. If I offended you, get over it. Do you even camp? Probably not. If you do and I’ve pissed you off, remember, these are “stereocodes,” okay? I’m sure you have exceptional phone etiquette and would never conceive of being an asshole to the faceless person on the other end of the line. Don’t take it so personally, I’m not talking about you.