Zapped while zipping!

Oh, Peeps, lend me your ear!  For I have a tale to tell that will knock your socks off.  And your shoes too, for that matter.  

At least it knocked my gigi's shoes off.  Literally.  

Today is the day I will finally tell you the story about the time my gigi got struck by lightening.  

You probably thought I was fibbing about my gigi being able to conduct electricity and mutating into a magnet, huh?

You never know with the dummy, right?  You always walk away scratching your head and asking yourself, did she really poke her bishop's eye's out? Or did she really Kung Fu Panda kick that insulting soccer dad?   

Maybe, maybe not.  But one thing is sure, if it sounds too crazy to be true, BELIEVE IT!

We really did have a guinea pig named Popeye whose eyeballs popped out after an incident with our dog but were re-installed for $10 by a very compassionate vet.  And my gigi really did get struck by lightening.   

Kute Kasey said yesterday that my life should be a T.V show.  FYI, KK, my hub has been begging me for years to write my first book about my grandma who lives in the Twilight Zone and he has already cast Nicole Kidman to play my grandma when the made-for-T.V. movie comes out.  

This is my made-for-T.V. movie grandma:

And this is my reality T.V. grandma:


How cute is she?  

But I will take you to the Twilight Zone to meet my grandma another day.  Today I'm out to prove that the whole lightening-never-strikes-twice theory is a load of propaganda.  

Roy Sullivan was struck by lightening seven times.  

Once you can conduct electricity, lightening kinda stalks you.  Either that or Gad kinda punishes you. 

My gigi was punished three times. 

So do you want to meet my gigi?

This is her as I left her apartment today. Don't ask me why she was pointing to the heavens.  

When my gigi was four years old she got a new pair of shoes.  Two days later a bolt of lightening entered her neck and exited her left heel.  This process pretty much ruined her new shoes, which ticked her off.  

But not until six months later because it took a whole six months before her mother could even dress her again.  

For six months my poor gigi laid under a sheet trying to recover, without any antibiotics or pain killers, from being electrocuted.  There were hundreds of pieces of rock and gravel and bark embedded in her skin because the lightening had pretty much split the sidewalk beneath her feet wide open.  The doctor told gigi's mother there was no way she would survive, but she stayed by her beside round the clock and prayed her daughter back to life.  

The End.  

PSYCH!  Not The End.  

Today, besides acquiring photographic evidence of the shoes, I learned a new detail that has never before accompanied the story.  When I lifted the shoes from their wooden case, a folded piece of paper fell out of the box.  Inside was every embarrassing detail of the story.  

As it turned out, my gigi did follow her father's instructions and began to run home.  However, halfway there she realized something.  

Something very important to the story.  

Something very important to her fate and destiny and karma and to the fate, destiny and karma of her posterity.

Her bladder was full.  

In other words, she had to pee.  

And so she raced to the biggest tree she could find, squatted, and began to relieve herself, which is to say she was in the act of peeing (pardon my vulgarity, but sometimes the truth is rated R) when a subliminal message, in the form of a lightening bolt, came straight from the hand of Mrs. Gad saying "Hey down there! Don't cha know it ain't lady like to pee on a tree!

Seriously, could the story get any better if I thought of it myself?

The question is this: Who should we cast to play my gigi in her HBO special Zapped While Zipping?