Keepin’ Gas X handy.

You can’t make this stuff up…

So – I’m just gonna share an alleged day in the life of me and my friends – Allegedly.

First and foremost, before I even get to my jobby-job – This is what I deal with…

I have a four year old that’s trying my nerves in a more for-real way than usual. For instance – The milk needs to be chocolate and strawberry combined, he must stir it. The television needs to be on Sprout in the living room…after he’s played with his cars and trains for about 30 minutes in the morning. He must be awake for his Sprout programs. His iPad needs to be loading a new game every thirty minutes – Preferably every Angry Birds edition that exists. Cupcakes are to be had for breakfast, lunch & dinner – Oh, and, “I want my daddy!” is set on replay for each time Mommy sets him straight…which is all freaking day long.





Until I actually call Dad and let him try to talk some sense into said four year old – Then Momma will do again.

Also on replay are,

“I don’t want to do that.”


“I want to be good!”

I just can not even.





This was the start of the day…

It got better.

So…An alleged customer enters my alleged place of business and says to one of my lovely alleged co-workers – And I’m gonna paraphrase, ’cause I can’t quite remember…

“Can I speak to someone in charge? I just want to tell them what a great job y’all have done on our ____! It looks great!”

Enters bossman – Stage Left…

“Hello, there…How can I help you?”

And then she rips him a new one…

Metaphorically speaking.

My alleged co-worker was literally speechless. Who does that? Who tells such a blatant lie? Ruthless alleged customers, that’s who. Part of me was like, “You go, girl.” The other part of me was like all kinds of other things I won’t type out.

SMH. (that’s shaking my head for you mid-whatevers. I had to google it a few years back.)


After this lovely occurrence – We carried on with our day and just SOHs (shook our heads) every now and again upon remembrance…Then came another couple of ’em – You know, the crazies.

“Uh, yeah – I bought this at another ____ store and need y’all to warranty it.”

We reasonably begin our reply, “We can’t…”

The alleged customer rebukes the alleged owner of the company and storms out.

What is wrong with people?








My oldest daughter and I then go to Orange Leaf for a treat after I took her to the doctor. Y’all, she had infected bug bites on her ankles.


SO…We went to Orange Leaf…allegedly:) They need to make more money off of all of us, so they no longer weigh your yogurt – They just sell you a tiny cup of it for a stinking $5. Mag and I get to the checkout and I lift the cup up to the cashier and say, “This is pitiful.” She replies,

“I know – We ran out of tart base. We’ll have more in later on this week.”


I then told her, “No. The size of the cup for $5 is pitiful.”

My 10 year old leans over and whispers in my ear,

“You just told her…”



It’s so fun when they can make you laugh and put you in your place at the same time:)


My favorite, though, was when the alleged 75 year old crackish-head entered the store with an unreasonable ____ need and we, in our most sensible way, let him know we couldn’t get him what he needed…he wanted to know our identities, “What’s your name?” He asks one guy, then one girl…then he asks me the same question.


I don’t even look up from my papers when I reply,

“You don’t need to know my name.”

He laughs and accepts my response. Then replies,

“Y’all’s company is crazy ass cool.”




My alleged co-worker/cousin and I decided that this should be the new hashtag for our t-shirts.

There was more that happened with this dude and his amazon lady sidekick – But it just pales in comparison to his summation of our company.

Simply pales in comparison.

Oh, and my co-workers allegedly said that I’m abrasive.



Whatever – It keeps the crazies walking the other direction.



Seriously…you can’t make this stuff up.

I look at my alleged female co-worker and say,

“I hope tomorrow is this much fun.”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

And in that moment I realized,

This place has totally gotten to me.

I’ve lost my




And I’m cool with it…’cause my alleged place of business is crazy ass cool.


I hope y’all work somewhere that you can laugh so hard you let a toot slip – For real…I keep Gas X in my drawer. My alleged job is a laugh a minute:)

XOXO, Beck


torture treatment. 

Here’s an impromptu list of things I “dislike greatly” about house-cleaning. My momma taught me to use this code-saying when hate comes to mind. 


Cleaning the trash can. Really?

Checking the dishes out the dishwasher before putting them up. 

Dusting fans. (I leave them running to distract)

Cleaning urine off bathroom WALLS. I can accept toilets. Not. Walls. 

Putting folded clothes away. Honorary mention goes to…Separating the clothes – Hauling the separated clothes to the laundry room – Washing the separated, hauled clothes – Thrice-fluffing and carrying the separated, hauled, washed clothes to the “dining” room table – Noticing the separated, hauled, washed, thrice-fluffed, carried clothes on the table all week – Folding the separated, hauled, washed, thrice-fluffed, carried, noticed clothes on the communal dressing table. And then comes the afore mentioned putting away of the whole lot of them. I don’t have time to discuss my disdain for the second putting away of the clothes. It’s convoluted and makes me look bad. I can’t have that. 

Cleaning casserole dishes out of the fridge.  Leftovers can only be my excuse, for not cleaning the blasted 13x9s, for so long. 

Changing sheets. 

Dusting blinds. Ridiculous. 

I’m trying to think of another word for sweeping or dusting or cleaning that really makes it sound like it feels…Ok. Here goes one – Torturing the corners under the kitchen cabinets…There’s forever a frosted flake and a macaroni noodle hanging with a wayward dustbunny down there. 




There are so many more…But I’ve got to get back to the torture – So the torture can be completed and shortly thereafter begin once again. 


XOXO, Beck

I went to Target today.

I just typed a sentence twice and deleted it…twice. I will not say all of this right – And that’s okay – Now, on with the typing…

I’ve never been one to worry too much about political correctness. It’s never been too big of a deal for me, because I care about human beings. I’m not perfect – I’m just saying that if you love people, you don’t have to watch every single word that comes out of your mouth. NOW – I am NOT saying that my words don’t get away from me – It just doesn’t normally involve the relevance of someone else’s existence.

Anyway, I have a lot of people in my life that won’t agree with what I have to say – And that’s cool…Blog about it;)

I want to share an experience I had with a human being.

A human being that was transgender.

A transgender that was hurting.

I was asked to sing a concert at one of my very close friend’s church. I was excited to just sing for Jesus…just do the thing that I’m gifted to do. So I comprised my song list – Prepared for weeks and was on with the show. It was not a perfect concert, but I sang the songs that I planned and God was glorified.

The last song I sang was Broken Hallelujah, by Mandisa…It’s a beautiful song about how you can still praise the Lord, even when you’re broken – About how God works when we’re at our lowest. I connect to that – Not because I’m a depressed sort of individual – But because I know I’m so imperfect…so flawed. The fact that God loves me so much – In spite of me – It just makes me wanna praise Him more.

After the concert was over and the the church goers were making their exits…A woman that looked very much like a man came walking down the aisle towards me.

She embraced me.

We stood there for what seemed like minutes, but I knew were merely seconds. She looked me straight in the eyes and told me,

“Thank you.”

She told me that the last song that I sang spoke to her. She had pained eyes…Her openness and honesty overwhelmed my soul.

I knew at that moment that she was the reason that God brought me to that church…at that time…to sing that song. She was hurting and I had a message from God for her – Because God loves his creation.

He cares.

God cares about what we’re dealing with…about what we’re going through – Right or wrong – Fact or opinion…

We are His children.

I will not stop going to a grocery store because they allow bathroom privileges to a certain group of people.

I’m concerned with pedophiles in the bathrooms, not transgenders. So, my children will not go in the bathrooms alone. This is the adjustment that I’m making.


XOXO, Beck