I love my Birthday’s! Growing up my birthday always fell on Spring Break. A whole week devoted to my Birthday and my mother was big on making birthday’s special.
We would often go to Arizona and Mexico for the week, and although we struggled financially, she always splurged a bit.

My grandmother – who is the best cook on the planet – delivered a birthday dinner. ANYTHING you want. For years my request would be hot dogs and beans, buttered noodles and a heap of mashed potatoes – what do you expect from a kid?
As I matured and found that good food is a path to happiness, the hot dogs and beans were replaced with a request for crab stuffed chicken breasts. The buttered noodles replaced with shrimp cocktail and steamed asparagus. The mashed potatoes have not traveled the way of the dodo bird, though.

This year is a pretty good year and it looks to get better. My husband got me some yummy candles, Miles Davis and Johhny Cash CDs and tickets to see Ani DiFranco in a small venue. Woo-hoo! Four books were included. CBGB book with 30 years of photos from the club….Marc dubbed it “a tribute to the Ramones and Debbie Harry”. One book on the underground trade of human remains, another on the forensic science of solving crimes and the last on the Black Dahlia files. Dead people books, basically. I have a fascination for things that can shock me….I have lived, seen and done enough in my life that , frankly, this is not an easy task.. Death I have not done or seen so it is un-chartered waters and I am interested.

Last night I made a yummy dinner for Marc, Biggie and my husband and watched "good night and good luck". Drank some whisky and fell asleep on our ever plush, overly shag carpet with the Nikster bird and the dogs.

Today my wonderful husband has gone out to get coffee and my favorite- a tuna, black olive and jalepeno sub for lunch.

This evening we shall go out with friends to a club for a “sensory overload” gig. My friend the spook master extraordinaire is putting on the gig at the Masquerade - soon to be doomed to the ever popular mixed use condos and retail that continues to shut down the grungy (and my favorite) clubs in Atlanta

Visuals in hell (break dancing, juggling and yo-yo masters)
Sound with some bands in heaven
6th sense with tarot readers in purgatory
Touch with touchable models and massages

Hopefully, we will top it all off with the taste of some greasy food from the all-night breakfast spot, the Majestic. And if the stars are aligned, Bicycle Shorts Guy will just happen to be standing on some corner we pass in Midtown and Biggie can get a picture, at last.

So, let the fucking gray hairs start....I plan to earn every last one of them!

My good buddy EB and I packed up and headed out for our 6pm time slot to see "Bodies The Exhibit" yesterday. These are real dead (plasticized) people on display and if you so dared to ignore the clearly posted signs, you could touch them. I stuck my head into the abdominal cavity of one just to see what it would like from inside. Nothing special I will say

The show was not as freaky as I imagined it to be. The plasticized bodies looked…well, plastic.

I did walk away with some new thoughts in my noodle, though. Here are my observations for any of you that wouldn’t dare go or just won’t have the circus of dead bodies at venue near you

The belly button looks really jacked. It protrudes out like the rubber stopper on a beach ball before you push the plug into the inflated ball. Not a normal "outy" look but very plug-like. That feaked me out for some reason

The uterus is about the size of a mandarin orange……for some reason I imagined it a bit larger. Although the girlie Dr. keeps all sorts of displays in the exam rooms and I would wager I have seen several life-like uteruses. I suppose I just always paid more attention to the chart of the cervix and just how scary it looks when fully dilated. That right there is all the birth control I need.

People must have issues with the butt hole. All of the bodies retained their genitalia (most of the bodies were men) so uncircumcised penises and testes were strewn throughout the exhibit but the butt holes….the skin was left on about 4 inches to either side and was flapped “closed”. Now before anyone gets a mental picture of me running around and bending over to find the butt holes, let me explain. The skin was removed from nearly every part of the bodies but consistently there was this large protrusion of skin (it was shaped like a butterfly with wings together) located around the poop shoot that just screamed –“hiding butt hole here!” I know I am not the only one that noticed, just maybe the only one who is actually talking about it

The charred black lungs did not make me want to drop my cigarettes in the big glass case - stratigically placed near the smoker and non-smoker plasticized lungs- that directed “Quit now we like you. Drop your cigarettes in here”. There were several packs in this case that were clearly staged and the Eastern European couple laughed hysterically when EB took me by the elbow, turned me around and pointed at the box (with a very serious face)…”Do you see that? FREE cigarettes!” The hoity toity women sneered....I do love Europeans

Metal braces are freaky! One display showed the various metal plates and brackets (head plates, brackets used to “suture” the skull after brain surgery, knees, back, shoulder and so on) used to repair the body. YUCK. That shit freaked me out BAD. Maybe because I know I have a big metal plate in my shoulder with a ton of screws and now I know what it looks like

Sperm is the smallest single cell in the male body

The egg is the largest single cell in the female body

Everyone spends 30 minutes of their life as a single cell

Rob was not freaked out about the human eyeballs that I bought

EB is taking a set of eyeballs to work tomorrow. He told a co-worker (who is missing an eye) he would see about bringing one back for him. As luck would have it, they were selling eyeballs!

So there you have it. Dead people according to Chanda

I feel naked when I do a post without a picture....this one is from my back porch.

Marcellus and Mr. Tucker sitting on his "wall" watching this poor sap get busted. Sitting "on the wall" is an old past time. Hookers do it, old men do it, drug dealers do it, I suppose even educated fleas do it around here

Biggie refers to Mr. Tucker as "Edward Scissor Hands" 'cuz his bushes and yard is unnaturally "trim". He also parks his old Caddy, his truck and the new Lincoln all lined in his drive. So to get to which ever vehicle he wants to drive that day, well - requires the "car shuffle"...it seems he always wants to drive the one further back so all cars come out then go back in. He is one of my favorite neighbors.

Marcellus- well is just a little off in the head. Is a mechanic by trade but also builds computers. He is quite a pack rat. He used to live across the street until his ass brother moved in (the house, as almost all in the neighborhood, has been passed down from parents and grandparents with kids now all having rights....it gets ugly). He is renting a single-room with no water or electricity. I like Marcellus and feel for him.

Mike, the ass brother, is a state trooper and has a big problem with cheap whores (the reason Marcellus says he moved out). I watch him bring them (sometimes several a day) on a daily basis. Often, he will lock them out of the house when he is done with them and they sit on his porch; asking for smokes and beers from passer-byers. That house is up for sale now

Down on the corner is Biggie T and Marc. Next to them is another gentrify-er- SID. Oh god, SID. He made himself comfy on my porch one day and asked me to help him "clean up" the hood. He knows DEA agents and if I pitch in money, they will come around my house and hang out to give the drug dealers an "impression". WHAT? The DEA can kiss my ass. Stay away from my house - I have a hard enough time with big brother (in general) and who in the hell is going to protect me once word gets out on the street. UH HUH. I'll pass, the crack heads don't really bother me, not nearly as much as the thought of rubbing elbows with the DEA.

A couple houses down was Red, Nettie and Ricky. They are filling up their Uhaul today and moving to Athens. Good riddance! Red is a pain in the ass; in and out of jail, asking for money all the time and I have a feeling she responsible for of the petty theft- call me paranoid but each time she gets out of jail - shit ends up missing around our house. She doesn't talk - yells and does so with a mouth full of tongue. I cannot understand a word she says!

Nettie- she is a mess. Apparently she hasn't been around...but this is only for the moment. She will be back..asking for shit all the time. I once paid her to haul construction material from our yard (she asked) - I got screwed over but she still came by at all hours looking for rope - I suppose to tie off. She had the crazy look and when I would ask details (how big? Dunno: How much? whatever you got: what do you need it for so i can get direction on what type of rope? uhh..uhh. just any rope I don't care). Never really mattered what size or type of rope I gave her- it was always perfect! Then she would scurry home.

Ricky seemed the only one to take care of the kids and didn't get strung out. Offered me BBQ anytime I would walk by and was pleasant. Nice guy. Something tells me it is Ricky moving away from the crazy women and they will still be hanging around. We shall see

So even though there is a lot of activity around the 'hood..... everything is getting bought, renovated and sold at ungodly prices. It just seems a little weird the faces we've known in the last 4 years will will be a changin'

OH yeah...1 more thing. Butch is in the 'hood today. Dropped his laundry off to get washed and bitched about my "poor man's" gardening technique of moving plants. I'm washing his clothes...just like I have this thing about not going hungry and will always feed him...there is a sense of pride when the clothes on your back are clean. Although I don't separate for him so he may be wearing pink undies....and I don't plan on verifying that

I grew up in CO where there is one color that lives there. White. ZERO diversity - freaky to visit these day; now that I live in a city of diversity

I make a move to Buffalo. It was the best and worst decision of my life. Best- met my husband. Worst- the place is god’s armpit and still little to no diversity. (Rob, don’t get mad, you know there are a ton of things I love there but I have to give Buffalo shit! In a general sense, it sucks)

Move to Atlanta- 1 of 5 cities we choose. This one was not at the top but I ask- who can afford San Fran, NY City, wants to deal with the cold in Toronto or can make a living in a remote town in Colorado?

My job choice (for lack of more positive words) has been the dreaded landlord. Free fucking rent and a paycheck! I land a job in the suburbs of Atlanta. Yikes. I do not do well in the suburbs. Not much diversity here, either.

My buddy, the spook master and Haunted House extraordinaire, Mr. Messina…makes some “intown” recommendations where to buy. Gentrifying but cool.

We can afford “Edgewood Estates”. Still a bit rough but about to "turn". I Fall in love with the house- - talk my husband into it - although he isn't sold on it; he liked the one that had a cemetery for a backyard. Perfect location...house was too small. In the end, girl wins. No surprise there.

First night in our new home on the air mattress in front the fireplace. It is New Year's Eve. Champaign in hand and a knock at the door. It's BUTCH. Celebrations on New Year’s Eve are done with guns: lots of them and lots of rounds. Fuck. We bought this house and I talked him into it. I am sleeping in the doghouse for a long damn time! UUURGH

Now we live here. I know my neighbors. Everyone says hello to everyone. They don’t rob me, they rob the ass that robbed them. It is not really the HOOD…it is the ‘hood, my neighborhood. It is not all the jacked up things that I write about (although there was another jacked up incident that happened tonight but I rather not share)….but you don’t want the idle conversations I have with Mr. Tucker about the fucked up state of our gov’t, or what my dogs ate for lunch (which was my socks). Marcellus and his odd genius noodle, that has cost him his house for forgetting to pay his taxes. Leola and her bad knees that keep her in the house- in her 80’s I would guess. I could go on but that would be boring. Instead I will write about the fucked up stuff that in the grand scheme, is all just a bit of fun to spice up the mundane.

Edgewood Estates would be a bit scary for someone who spends too much time in a warped reality of America (the suburbs) but I see my 'hood as reality. These are great people being addicted, trying to pay bills and contemplating how they would spend the $ if they win the lottery just like the rest of the world. The only difference is they aren’t living a warped reality; this ‘hood doesn’t take public transportation by choice.

So, set the corner store on fire. Screw it. Isn't that why you go to the carnival? I prefer to watch it my jammies while drinking coffee on my porch.

Multiple 'copters circling over the house usually gets little rise out of me these days; cops are looking for someone - again. But the sirens were more than usual.

I go out back to see if the perp they are looking for has jumped our fence and is trying to steal my car....nope. Quiet back there.

Out front is where it's at. The "corner store" about 3 houses down from us is burning! So the rich whitie grabbed her camera- I have no shame!

This pic was taken from Rudex Garage. you can almost make out the "edgewood" sign above the street sign

This store never served much purpose for me...the only thing left on the shelves (so I am told) are 40s. You can buy cigarettes by the single and an expired bag of doritos but not much more. One neighbor spends most of her free-time on the video poker game thing they set up in there. The restaurant attached to the store boasting "neckbones and greens" is no longer open; but a make-shift living arrangement for one of the guys in the 'hood.

It's biggest purpose is scare this shit out of timid white girls when they come to visit. So timid white girls...you have been warned

This corner is used to make a quick crack deal when cars come to the 4-way stop. Most of the drug dealers hang out in the dark shadows of the store waiting for the next car. When I come to a stop here at night, it is like night of the living dead - guys just slowly creep out to the corner in hopes of making a deal

"Rudex garage" (to the right of the store) hosts a bunch of shady characters (a girl shot them up with a semi-automatic from a moving van last summer - the owner of the garage is "wanted" on the street) but I know most of them (by face) and they always give me a, "yo' watsup!" when I walk by.

"James Gang" (white building on the left in the pic below) is home to a black biker gang. Weekends in the summer and the street is lined with harley's, lots of leather and patches, music blarring, some BBQ- you know, the usual biker scene. During the day, it is the usual building with a skull and cross bones and RIP hanging above the door.

This pic was taken from my front porch after the excitement died down.