Saturday, April 9, 2011
New Ideas
I've been thinking about what I'm in the process of writing now, what I am thinking about writing next, the stuff I'm toying with on the side and things I will probably never finish. It's exhausting. I have an idea for another book again based on true stories. However, this one would be more dark. There would still be humor, because really, how can signing a petition in a mental ward because you're pissed off that the staff changed the peanut butter brand on you NOT be funny? See what I mean? Hysterical, but still sorta pathetic. No, scratch that. REALLY pathetic.
Also, my passion, fascination, determination, obsession with Paris continues unabated. It's inevitable. I must live there. Does anyone else look for real estate in foreign countries and really consider buying besides me? I figure I could get my teaching license for France, teach English and live there. Of course, Wally would have to agree, and the kids would have to be at least semi independent. That means a few more years, but still....I already found an apartment which is supposedly next to impossible to do in Paris. Leave it to me to find one, and have no real plan to acquire it. When I'm really ready, I'll not be able to find any place.
In health news, my tremors have begun to worsen, but I think I'm more aware of them and trying to keep them as unobtrusive as possible. I haven't had any horrible days where I can barely walk. I think my last one like that was when we were in London. The more stressed I am, the worse it is, and I have a theory that the hotter it is, the worse my tremors are. My shoulder/neck/back issues seem to be largely better, but I made the mistake of running and have jammed someting back up. Result: pain.
Secondary result: more migraines.
On to another timely topic for me:
MENOPAUSE???? Seriously???? Isn't it enough that we go through a horrific puberty as girls, what with boobs, menstruation, hair, etc....but then...THEN.....we have continued menstruation, breast exams, breast self exams, mammograms, yearly exams where a stranger with rubber gloves looks for his lost socks in your uterus, and probably anything else he lost in the previous year. Then, because we are the blessed gender, we are able to be impregnated, go through 10 months, (not 9, people...count...40 weeks is 10 months) of sharing our bodies with another being, and because of that, we cannot use sweetener, cough drops, ibuprofen, benadryl, alcohol, or basically anything I use daily almost. And FORGET XANAX!!! I was so careful, I got the flu and would not take anything for fever until the doctor told me the fever was more harmful than the Tylenol for my baby. I grudgingly took two Tylenol, and began praying that my child would not be harmed by it. Unbearable sickness for 12 weeks which magically disappears as quickly as it appeared, but not before you beg for death, extreme exhaustion and unbelievable expenses. THEN...we get to experience the blessed miracle of birth. No, really. I do feel it is a miracle. It just is a major pain, that's all. My first one was SUPER easy. I thought I could go into business. No drugs, no pain, just a couple of pushes and PLOP, the little sucker was out and ready to roll. I got up and was doing stuff within an hour. Of course, after that, I got no sleep for the next 4 years. Period. At all. Which could explain how I became an expectant mother again 3 years later. My second pregnancy was pretty much like my first. No biggie. Well, there was a biggie. Namely, ME. Other than that, we lived in the frigid polar region of MICHIGAN (seriously, how do you people handle it?), and I had a toddler to chase after. Nothing was much different until I went into labor. THEN the shit got serious. NOT easy. VERY not easy. VERY big problems. VERY big pain. Special pain. Indescribable, really. Waited too long for any drugs...because I'm a badass that way, and had to really go it drug free..they tried an epidural after it was too late. I don't recommend that. I should have had a C-section, but some dumbass doctor with hands like Dr. Menghele didn't seem to know his ass from his elbow from my birth canal. I gave birth NATURALLY to an 11 pound 2 foot long boy. No, you read that right. NATURALLY. Many stitches, cursing and much crying ensued. However, I got another perfect angelic boy. As you can imagine, I never gave birth again. No sir, no thank you, I'll take a pass on that one. Plus, when you are young and don't know any better people don't tell you the truth about childbirth. I did the Bradley Method which I HIGHLY recommend to everyone. It worked beautifully with my first child. The hospital where I had my second child insisted we take Lamaze (in my opinion a big fat dumbass joke), so we did. I ignored most of it and did my Bradley. However, during Lamaze class, the instructor was guiding us through a "pain meditation". I was the only woman in there who was not going through her first pregnancy. I KNEW what to expect. The others were all glowing, a little scared and thinking this Lamaze stuff was the SHIT. We were told that when we had a bad contraction, to close our eyes, (never do this), and imagine we were standing on a beach. We write the word "Pain" in the sand. The waves come in and gently wash the word "Pain" away. When she said that, I busted out laughing and accidentally snorted. I didn't see it coming. Seriously? Imagine a wave washing away the word "pain"? It is to laugh. I laugh at this. HAHAHA! Big laugh! I got major hostile stares from the instructor and all the other couples. Big whoop. I shrugged and said, "Whatever gets you through..."
THEN, D day came. I go into labor. I wasn't sure it was labor because with my first, my water broke. A pretty definitive sign that stuff is on, right? With the second, I had cramps, they very gradually got worse, then got pretty bad, I couldn't talk or walk through them, and we went to the hospital. The baby's head was in a bad position, so I couldn't push, although I had no urge to push yet. Both of my babies had their umbilical cords wrapped twice around their necks. That had to be adjusted. Then, the REAL pain began. I was in too much pain to cry, make sound, or ask for help. It was just blinding. Well, yeah. I was giving birth to a 2 year old. He came out asking for a ham sandwich, for God's sake. Well, that's an exaggeration, but he was 11 pounds, and my first was a little over 7 pounds. I didn't have gestational diabetes, I didn't gain more weight, I was active....he was just huge. I do not regret it at all. It was all worth it.
Bradley Childbirth. Perfection. Do it.
NOW, back to MENOPAUSE....you have kids, you continue to grapple with your monthly crime scene producing amounts of blood, then....IT GETS WORSE! Will it come on time? Probably not. Will it come today? Maybe. Tomorrow? Could be. In twenty days? It's a good bet. Yesterday? Pretty sure. How long will it last? Oh...anywhere from a day to 28 days, when it will be time for your next one. Will it be heavier, lighter...what? Um, yes, yes, yes, and yes. Will I act crazy and have hot flashes? Bet on it, baby. You'll get irrationally angry at shit like cans turned the wrong way at the grocery store. You'll wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, have to wake up your husband, change your clothes, shower and change the sheets because the beauty of womanhood has bit you in the ass once again. Headaches will increase because your hormones will be doing the cha-cha everyday. Your weight will fluctuate. You'll have intestinal discomfort. Cramps, backaches...all that shit. It's all yours! Heartburn will bother you from stuff like...oh...I don't know...PLAIN WHITE BREAD. Crap like that. It's a hoot. Have a blast. I know I am. It makes PMS look like an episode of "Romper Room".
Well, this started out as some self questioning about my writing and turned into a rant about the mysteries of our monthly relationship with the moon. (My ass...don't give me that shit...I'm not saving the blood in a jar and burying it under the full moon to gain power...what a crock of SHIT.)
So, yeah. Sorry about that. But if you know me, then..well...you know me. That's how I am. And I'm menopausal now, so suck it if you don't like it.
Love,
Me.
Also, my passion, fascination, determination, obsession with Paris continues unabated. It's inevitable. I must live there. Does anyone else look for real estate in foreign countries and really consider buying besides me? I figure I could get my teaching license for France, teach English and live there. Of course, Wally would have to agree, and the kids would have to be at least semi independent. That means a few more years, but still....I already found an apartment which is supposedly next to impossible to do in Paris. Leave it to me to find one, and have no real plan to acquire it. When I'm really ready, I'll not be able to find any place.
In health news, my tremors have begun to worsen, but I think I'm more aware of them and trying to keep them as unobtrusive as possible. I haven't had any horrible days where I can barely walk. I think my last one like that was when we were in London. The more stressed I am, the worse it is, and I have a theory that the hotter it is, the worse my tremors are. My shoulder/neck/back issues seem to be largely better, but I made the mistake of running and have jammed someting back up. Result: pain.
Secondary result: more migraines.
On to another timely topic for me:
MENOPAUSE???? Seriously???? Isn't it enough that we go through a horrific puberty as girls, what with boobs, menstruation, hair, etc....but then...THEN.....we have continued menstruation, breast exams, breast self exams, mammograms, yearly exams where a stranger with rubber gloves looks for his lost socks in your uterus, and probably anything else he lost in the previous year. Then, because we are the blessed gender, we are able to be impregnated, go through 10 months, (not 9, people...count...40 weeks is 10 months) of sharing our bodies with another being, and because of that, we cannot use sweetener, cough drops, ibuprofen, benadryl, alcohol, or basically anything I use daily almost. And FORGET XANAX!!! I was so careful, I got the flu and would not take anything for fever until the doctor told me the fever was more harmful than the Tylenol for my baby. I grudgingly took two Tylenol, and began praying that my child would not be harmed by it. Unbearable sickness for 12 weeks which magically disappears as quickly as it appeared, but not before you beg for death, extreme exhaustion and unbelievable expenses. THEN...we get to experience the blessed miracle of birth. No, really. I do feel it is a miracle. It just is a major pain, that's all. My first one was SUPER easy. I thought I could go into business. No drugs, no pain, just a couple of pushes and PLOP, the little sucker was out and ready to roll. I got up and was doing stuff within an hour. Of course, after that, I got no sleep for the next 4 years. Period. At all. Which could explain how I became an expectant mother again 3 years later. My second pregnancy was pretty much like my first. No biggie. Well, there was a biggie. Namely, ME. Other than that, we lived in the frigid polar region of MICHIGAN (seriously, how do you people handle it?), and I had a toddler to chase after. Nothing was much different until I went into labor. THEN the shit got serious. NOT easy. VERY not easy. VERY big problems. VERY big pain. Special pain. Indescribable, really. Waited too long for any drugs...because I'm a badass that way, and had to really go it drug free..they tried an epidural after it was too late. I don't recommend that. I should have had a C-section, but some dumbass doctor with hands like Dr. Menghele didn't seem to know his ass from his elbow from my birth canal. I gave birth NATURALLY to an 11 pound 2 foot long boy. No, you read that right. NATURALLY. Many stitches, cursing and much crying ensued. However, I got another perfect angelic boy. As you can imagine, I never gave birth again. No sir, no thank you, I'll take a pass on that one. Plus, when you are young and don't know any better people don't tell you the truth about childbirth. I did the Bradley Method which I HIGHLY recommend to everyone. It worked beautifully with my first child. The hospital where I had my second child insisted we take Lamaze (in my opinion a big fat dumbass joke), so we did. I ignored most of it and did my Bradley. However, during Lamaze class, the instructor was guiding us through a "pain meditation". I was the only woman in there who was not going through her first pregnancy. I KNEW what to expect. The others were all glowing, a little scared and thinking this Lamaze stuff was the SHIT. We were told that when we had a bad contraction, to close our eyes, (never do this), and imagine we were standing on a beach. We write the word "Pain" in the sand. The waves come in and gently wash the word "Pain" away. When she said that, I busted out laughing and accidentally snorted. I didn't see it coming. Seriously? Imagine a wave washing away the word "pain"? It is to laugh. I laugh at this. HAHAHA! Big laugh! I got major hostile stares from the instructor and all the other couples. Big whoop. I shrugged and said, "Whatever gets you through..."
THEN, D day came. I go into labor. I wasn't sure it was labor because with my first, my water broke. A pretty definitive sign that stuff is on, right? With the second, I had cramps, they very gradually got worse, then got pretty bad, I couldn't talk or walk through them, and we went to the hospital. The baby's head was in a bad position, so I couldn't push, although I had no urge to push yet. Both of my babies had their umbilical cords wrapped twice around their necks. That had to be adjusted. Then, the REAL pain began. I was in too much pain to cry, make sound, or ask for help. It was just blinding. Well, yeah. I was giving birth to a 2 year old. He came out asking for a ham sandwich, for God's sake. Well, that's an exaggeration, but he was 11 pounds, and my first was a little over 7 pounds. I didn't have gestational diabetes, I didn't gain more weight, I was active....he was just huge. I do not regret it at all. It was all worth it.
Bradley Childbirth. Perfection. Do it.
NOW, back to MENOPAUSE....you have kids, you continue to grapple with your monthly crime scene producing amounts of blood, then....IT GETS WORSE! Will it come on time? Probably not. Will it come today? Maybe. Tomorrow? Could be. In twenty days? It's a good bet. Yesterday? Pretty sure. How long will it last? Oh...anywhere from a day to 28 days, when it will be time for your next one. Will it be heavier, lighter...what? Um, yes, yes, yes, and yes. Will I act crazy and have hot flashes? Bet on it, baby. You'll get irrationally angry at shit like cans turned the wrong way at the grocery store. You'll wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, have to wake up your husband, change your clothes, shower and change the sheets because the beauty of womanhood has bit you in the ass once again. Headaches will increase because your hormones will be doing the cha-cha everyday. Your weight will fluctuate. You'll have intestinal discomfort. Cramps, backaches...all that shit. It's all yours! Heartburn will bother you from stuff like...oh...I don't know...PLAIN WHITE BREAD. Crap like that. It's a hoot. Have a blast. I know I am. It makes PMS look like an episode of "Romper Room".
Well, this started out as some self questioning about my writing and turned into a rant about the mysteries of our monthly relationship with the moon. (My ass...don't give me that shit...I'm not saving the blood in a jar and burying it under the full moon to gain power...what a crock of SHIT.)
So, yeah. Sorry about that. But if you know me, then..well...you know me. That's how I am. And I'm menopausal now, so suck it if you don't like it.
Love,
Me.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Neurotic
So, I've been referred to as "neurotic" more than once. You may substitute the word "eccentric" or perhaps "odd" or "strange" or "weird" if you wish. Either way, I'm different. Recently I posted things I love. Now, I'm going the opposite way. I'm going to post a list (no doubt a partial list, as it grows daily) of things I either strongly dislike or things that make me CRAZY.
So, let's kick it off with:
1. People who make noises. Yeah. Noises. Breathing loudly, chewing loudly, coughing a lot, sniffling, cracking knuckles, flipping pages in a quiet room, chairs scraping across floors, you name the sound, I get highly agitated by it.
2. Stinky food. In particular, people who eat stinky food around other people. Don't bring your damned chicken wings to our staff meeting and slurp and eat that stank. Please. Don't by a sub sandwich with banana peppers, onions and green peppers and sit down next to me. I will barf, more than likely. Cornnuts. Those stink to high heavens. I hate them. Funyuns smell like ass. Onion-y ass, but ass nonetheless. Too much garlic. Too much alcohol.
3. Smoking. Just ew. Please. It's foolish and disgusting. It stinks, it is damaging to those around you and it's just all around repulsive.
4. Loud talkers. You know the ones. They cannot whisper to save their lives. They holler everything. You have a headache after a conversation with one. Everything they have to say is of the UTMOST importance, too. My ass. Shut up, why don't you? I guarantee you the people around you are sick of your loud assed voice always blabbing away.
5. Close standers. Don't invade my personal space. I have a LOT of personal space, and I'll call in an air strike if you invade it. Keep your distance. Step away, keep your hands where I can see them. Don't get too close. You might have bad breath, or I might be able to see your skin pores. That will make me gag.
6. Close talkers. This is sort of a blend of loud talkers and close standers. Step away from me to talk. Tone it down, while you're at it. Unless you and I are VERY close, please keep a minimum of distance of a couple of feet while speaking with me. Come on. It's only polite. Have some manners, why don't you?
7. People who spit. Just don't. Spitting is nasty. My Daddy has always opened his car doors at stop lights, leaned out and spit onto the street. Why? He has never chewed tobacco or anything, he just seems to either A. enjoy spitting in public, or B. has a major mucus issue going on. Either way, nobody wants to see your slimy glob of spit.
8. Public poopers. Seriously? Can you not hold it until you get home? Or at least somewhere where nobody else will be attempting to use the facilities after you are finished foully polluting the air? I can only do it at home. With doors shut and locked and Mercury probably has to be in retrograde or in the seventh house or some shit. Conditions have to be optimal. I don't get these people who go take a dump while at a restaurant or at the mall or at work. Nobody wants to go in there when you are finished.
9. Hair in areas it isn't supposed to be. Case in point: hair on a bar of soap. I will gag and end up vomiting if I see that. Hair in the shower. Drains in general. Hell, bathrooms that need cleaning in general. But hairs will put me over the edge.
10. Incorrect grammar. People who "axe" me a question or people who say, "we be going to the WalMart." Ooh! Another bad one is: "I seen you last weekend at the Walmart." Don't do this. It's called English. Learn it. Get to know it. It's your mother tongue. (if you are not American you can feel free to give yourself a bit of leeway, but I've never heard a non native speaker use the effed up grammar that kids use now.)
11. Saying words incorrectly or using them incorrectly. The word is "supposedly". It's not "supposably". Seriously. How about, "Liberry" instead of "library". Do "Liberrians" come from Liberia? Do they bake "Liberry Pies"? Come on. The word is "specific", not "Pacific". That would be an ocean. Totally different deal, there.
The phrase is, "For all intents and purposes." It is NOT "For all intensive purposes". Unless, of course, your purpose is quite intensive, then I guess it would be correct.
12. People not knowing when to use "me and him" or "him and me" or "him and I". There are rules. Learn them. It's not hard, I swear.
13. Cops asking me my weight when they pull me over. WTF is up with THAT shit? Well, I lied my ass off. So there.
14. People who wear colored contacts. They don't look good. They look weird. You look like a reptile/cat alien breed. Stop it.
15. Touchy-Feely people. Don't touch me. Ever. I don't like to be touched. Don't hug me when you see me every freakin' day. Don't put your arm around me, don't "massage" my shoulders after sneaking up behind me, don't give me a high five, don't knuckle knock me...just keep your body parts to yourself, and I'll do the same.
16. People who don't know the difference between "affect" and "effect". People who don't know the difference between "capital" 'and "capitol". People who dictionary, people.
17. People who make excuses.
18. Liars
19. Saying the word, "like" every few words when you speak. You sound uneducated. Stop it.
20. Loud, sudden noises. They make me cry like a little girl.
I'm sure there's much more. That is it for now, though.
So, let's kick it off with:
1. People who make noises. Yeah. Noises. Breathing loudly, chewing loudly, coughing a lot, sniffling, cracking knuckles, flipping pages in a quiet room, chairs scraping across floors, you name the sound, I get highly agitated by it.
2. Stinky food. In particular, people who eat stinky food around other people. Don't bring your damned chicken wings to our staff meeting and slurp and eat that stank. Please. Don't by a sub sandwich with banana peppers, onions and green peppers and sit down next to me. I will barf, more than likely. Cornnuts. Those stink to high heavens. I hate them. Funyuns smell like ass. Onion-y ass, but ass nonetheless. Too much garlic. Too much alcohol.
3. Smoking. Just ew. Please. It's foolish and disgusting. It stinks, it is damaging to those around you and it's just all around repulsive.
4. Loud talkers. You know the ones. They cannot whisper to save their lives. They holler everything. You have a headache after a conversation with one. Everything they have to say is of the UTMOST importance, too. My ass. Shut up, why don't you? I guarantee you the people around you are sick of your loud assed voice always blabbing away.
5. Close standers. Don't invade my personal space. I have a LOT of personal space, and I'll call in an air strike if you invade it. Keep your distance. Step away, keep your hands where I can see them. Don't get too close. You might have bad breath, or I might be able to see your skin pores. That will make me gag.
6. Close talkers. This is sort of a blend of loud talkers and close standers. Step away from me to talk. Tone it down, while you're at it. Unless you and I are VERY close, please keep a minimum of distance of a couple of feet while speaking with me. Come on. It's only polite. Have some manners, why don't you?
7. People who spit. Just don't. Spitting is nasty. My Daddy has always opened his car doors at stop lights, leaned out and spit onto the street. Why? He has never chewed tobacco or anything, he just seems to either A. enjoy spitting in public, or B. has a major mucus issue going on. Either way, nobody wants to see your slimy glob of spit.
8. Public poopers. Seriously? Can you not hold it until you get home? Or at least somewhere where nobody else will be attempting to use the facilities after you are finished foully polluting the air? I can only do it at home. With doors shut and locked and Mercury probably has to be in retrograde or in the seventh house or some shit. Conditions have to be optimal. I don't get these people who go take a dump while at a restaurant or at the mall or at work. Nobody wants to go in there when you are finished.
9. Hair in areas it isn't supposed to be. Case in point: hair on a bar of soap. I will gag and end up vomiting if I see that. Hair in the shower. Drains in general. Hell, bathrooms that need cleaning in general. But hairs will put me over the edge.
10. Incorrect grammar. People who "axe" me a question or people who say, "we be going to the WalMart." Ooh! Another bad one is: "I seen you last weekend at the Walmart." Don't do this. It's called English. Learn it. Get to know it. It's your mother tongue. (if you are not American you can feel free to give yourself a bit of leeway, but I've never heard a non native speaker use the effed up grammar that kids use now.)
11. Saying words incorrectly or using them incorrectly. The word is "supposedly". It's not "supposably". Seriously. How about, "Liberry" instead of "library". Do "Liberrians" come from Liberia? Do they bake "Liberry Pies"? Come on. The word is "specific", not "Pacific". That would be an ocean. Totally different deal, there.
The phrase is, "For all intents and purposes." It is NOT "For all intensive purposes". Unless, of course, your purpose is quite intensive, then I guess it would be correct.
12. People not knowing when to use "me and him" or "him and me" or "him and I". There are rules. Learn them. It's not hard, I swear.
13. Cops asking me my weight when they pull me over. WTF is up with THAT shit? Well, I lied my ass off. So there.
14. People who wear colored contacts. They don't look good. They look weird. You look like a reptile/cat alien breed. Stop it.
15. Touchy-Feely people. Don't touch me. Ever. I don't like to be touched. Don't hug me when you see me every freakin' day. Don't put your arm around me, don't "massage" my shoulders after sneaking up behind me, don't give me a high five, don't knuckle knock me...just keep your body parts to yourself, and I'll do the same.
16. People who don't know the difference between "affect" and "effect". People who don't know the difference between "capital" 'and "capitol". People who dictionary, people.
17. People who make excuses.
18. Liars
19. Saying the word, "like" every few words when you speak. You sound uneducated. Stop it.
20. Loud, sudden noises. They make me cry like a little girl.
I'm sure there's much more. That is it for now, though.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Stuff and Junk I love
Hi. I love these things in no particular order:
My kids
My husband
My parents
My brother
My niece and nephew
My dogs
wine
Xanax
sleep
sleep
sleep
soft pajamas
no wrinkles
Botox
Fried pickles
Ghosthunters
travel
Exorbitantly expensive hotels
purses
really good purses
really good shoes
makeup
really good makeup
Hermes anything
Louboutin shoes
Blahnik shoes
Birkenstocks shoes
Tom's shoes
Nordstrom's
Nieman Marcus
My truck/car/whatever
Having a passport that is still valid, leaving me the option of going wherever I want to go.
My chiropractor
Butterscotch schnapps and Baileys mixed
wine
hot dudes
reading
diamonds
diamonds
did I say diamonds?
jewelry...but real stuff, not crap
shawls, and scarves
writing
music
art
Spanish Guitar
Gypsy music
Cirque du Soleil
Kathy Griffin
I was going to do what I dislike, but I figured that list would be too long.
My kids
My husband
My parents
My brother
My niece and nephew
My dogs
wine
Xanax
sleep
sleep
sleep
soft pajamas
no wrinkles
Botox
Fried pickles
Ghosthunters
travel
Exorbitantly expensive hotels
purses
really good purses
really good shoes
makeup
really good makeup
Hermes anything
Louboutin shoes
Blahnik shoes
Birkenstocks shoes
Tom's shoes
Nordstrom's
Nieman Marcus
My truck/car/whatever
Having a passport that is still valid, leaving me the option of going wherever I want to go.
My chiropractor
Butterscotch schnapps and Baileys mixed
wine
hot dudes
reading
diamonds
diamonds
did I say diamonds?
jewelry...but real stuff, not crap
shawls, and scarves
writing
music
art
Spanish Guitar
Gypsy music
Cirque du Soleil
Kathy Griffin
I was going to do what I dislike, but I figured that list would be too long.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Roller Girl
Note to self: Next time you take a bunch of kids skating, do not put on skates and attempt to relive your teenage years. It is a stupid thing to do. You are not teen aged. You are middle aged. You have a disintegrating spine or something. Children are attempting to keep you from falling.
Actually, I kicked ass after I got used to it again. Yeah, I fell a few times. Less that most of the kids, though. TAKE THAT, YOUTH OF AMERICA! I do not do in-line skates. I do the old fashioned configuration of wheels. I am really more used to metal wheels. These new fangled rubber thingies are strange. However, I skated. Again. Tomorrow, I anticipate a visit to the chiropractor. Do not tell them I roller skated like a fool. Thank you, and goodnight.
Actually, I kicked ass after I got used to it again. Yeah, I fell a few times. Less that most of the kids, though. TAKE THAT, YOUTH OF AMERICA! I do not do in-line skates. I do the old fashioned configuration of wheels. I am really more used to metal wheels. These new fangled rubber thingies are strange. However, I skated. Again. Tomorrow, I anticipate a visit to the chiropractor. Do not tell them I roller skated like a fool. Thank you, and goodnight.
Monday, February 21, 2011
What Would YOU do?
So, let's say you are married to this man who is insane, right? This man thinks YOU should be able to do ANYTHING. This includes working, cooking, cleaning, child rearing, mind reading, space/time travel, telepathy, bringing dead pets back from the dead, fix any computer even if there is NOTHING wrong with it, make a cell phone work without a SIM card, send smoke signals to contact him, always magically know his whereabouts, fashion a timekeeping instrument like a Sundial that will fit on his wrist, never need winding, have Atomic clock capabilities...I can go on. I'll spare you, though.
I am married to this man. Everyone thinks he is the calmest, sweetest thing ever. Why, he would NEVER raise his voice! He would NEVER say anything mean! He is like a little puppy dog! Yeah, a puppy dog that is really a Hound from Hell that you just took a chew toy away from.
I even video taped him throwing a fit yesterday because he couldn't figure out how to upload pictures to his Facebook page. I scanned them in for him, emailed them to him and then he went berserk. I finally told him I wouldn't deal with him if he was going to cuss, scream and threaten me. So, he decides to call some company off the internet and pay them to tell him how to UPLOAD PICTURES TO HIS FACEBOOK PAGE. Dude. I figured it out alone. Children figure it out alone. Really old people figure it out alone. Some people have pets that have evidently figured it out alone. My husband? No. I told him if he called those jackholes and paid them to tell him how to upload pictures to effin' Facebook, that I would go shopping and I can spend WAY better than he can. Plus, can you imagine the person who would answer his call? They would have a great story to tell for a long time, but really? Calling a place NOT affiliated with Facebook and PAYING them to walk you through the steps that basically a wombat could figure out on their own? I swear. Honestly.
Plus, there are HUGE budget cuts going on in the place I work, and everybody is wigging out about their jobs. Including me. Should I wig out? Should I not? I don't know, but everyone else is, so I figured I better join in. Otherwise, I might get blindsided and never see a lay off coming.
PLUS, I am tired.
Plus, I am going through menopause.
PLUS, I am married to an insane person.
PLUS, I have two teenage sons who God help them probably don't know their address, even though we taught it to them when they were little.
PLUS, insanity runs in my family. OBVIOUSLY.
PLUS, my back hurts.
I am sure I could think of more, but I think I'm finished bitching for now. If you need Xanax, I am sorry. I need it, too. I think I will go get some. I advise the whole world to do the same.
I am married to this man. Everyone thinks he is the calmest, sweetest thing ever. Why, he would NEVER raise his voice! He would NEVER say anything mean! He is like a little puppy dog! Yeah, a puppy dog that is really a Hound from Hell that you just took a chew toy away from.
I even video taped him throwing a fit yesterday because he couldn't figure out how to upload pictures to his Facebook page. I scanned them in for him, emailed them to him and then he went berserk. I finally told him I wouldn't deal with him if he was going to cuss, scream and threaten me. So, he decides to call some company off the internet and pay them to tell him how to UPLOAD PICTURES TO HIS FACEBOOK PAGE. Dude. I figured it out alone. Children figure it out alone. Really old people figure it out alone. Some people have pets that have evidently figured it out alone. My husband? No. I told him if he called those jackholes and paid them to tell him how to upload pictures to effin' Facebook, that I would go shopping and I can spend WAY better than he can. Plus, can you imagine the person who would answer his call? They would have a great story to tell for a long time, but really? Calling a place NOT affiliated with Facebook and PAYING them to walk you through the steps that basically a wombat could figure out on their own? I swear. Honestly.
Plus, there are HUGE budget cuts going on in the place I work, and everybody is wigging out about their jobs. Including me. Should I wig out? Should I not? I don't know, but everyone else is, so I figured I better join in. Otherwise, I might get blindsided and never see a lay off coming.
PLUS, I am tired.
Plus, I am going through menopause.
PLUS, I am married to an insane person.
PLUS, I have two teenage sons who God help them probably don't know their address, even though we taught it to them when they were little.
PLUS, insanity runs in my family. OBVIOUSLY.
PLUS, my back hurts.
I am sure I could think of more, but I think I'm finished bitching for now. If you need Xanax, I am sorry. I need it, too. I think I will go get some. I advise the whole world to do the same.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Real Quick...
Who on Earth is reading this thing from Russia? I am fascinated to know! If you are reading this from Russia, let me know. Or hell, anywhere else, either. Let me know. Comment or do whatever it is people do on these things. Seriously, though...RUSSIA? Awesome.
Aging Gracefully
Is a stupid concept. Gracefully? Screw that. Give me Botox and Juvederm. Whatever. I'll do it. I don't want a bunch of sags and lines all over my face I've washed religiously for years to avoid zits, and then wrinkles. All those expensive creams, facials and makeup I've used...why let it just go to waste? I keep my hair up, after all. I keep the Grey covered because if I don't, I'll look like an aging blond Pepe La Pew. You are welcome, world. Once again, you are welcome. I just give and give...I swear.
So, yeah. Today we went to have lunch with my family for my birthday which was yesterday. I'm 45. I don't care who knows. Who gives a crap? I'm obviously not 25, I have a child about to graduate high school, one in college and one who is probably going to be a perpetual freshman in high school. It's very obvious I'm not in my 30s. (Unless I started very early, in which case I would probably be dead because my dad would have murdered me.) I just don't want to look OLDER than I am. There is my rant on anti aging crap. Deal.
So, while we were at lunch, I mentioned that my best friend who lives in another state and I had sort of knocked around the idea of going to Costa Rica during Spring Break. Not like a "Girls Gone Wild" spring break. More of a "tired middle aged women with kids who want to sleep uninterrupted and lay on the beach" spring break. (Lay? Lie? I never can keep it straight.) Anyhow, my brother, who is 41, mind you...he decides that he is the Patriarch of the family, right? He decided this ohhhh, I don't know about 35 years ago or something. He's the boss, right? Wrong. Nobody is the boss of me. He decides to chime in with his sage advice. Here is the conversation in script form to allow for easier understanding:
My One and ONLY (Thank God) sibling: Um, Costa Rica?
Me: Yeah.
Him: You DO realize that you are 45, right?
Me: Duh. Can't get anything past you.
Him: You have kids.
Me: I DO? OhmyGOD!!!
Him: Very funny. You are not a kid.
Me: Really? Do tell. When is your NEXT (as in 50th) trip to DisneyWorld?
Are you gonna dance with Minnie Mouse this time?
Him: *glares at me*
Me: *glares back smugly*
My MOTHER(who butted into the conversation): Who is going to take care of________(my friend's daughter)?
Me: Dunno. I'm not her mother. ___________(my friend) is. My kids will be here with their father. Or you. If they are bad, with you.
Mom: You are not a nice girl.
Me: We've established that.
My brother who really should shut up: Don't you think it's a little irresponsible for you to go running off to party in Costa Rica?
Me: Um, nobody said we were "partying". I did mention "sleeping", though. ALONE. BLISSFULLY, QUIETLY ALONE. See, I'm FORTY FIVE and that is freaking HEAVEN to me.
So, my whole family now thinks I'm selfish because the idea was MENTIONED. No plans have been made, no tickets purchased...nada. They are SO selfish! What will they do when I tell them about my Yoga retreat in Sri Lanka or my Surfing Safari in South America?
One funny thing: My brother compared an aspic dish at the restaurant to the product "Clamato". My son thought he said, "Chlamydia". He was appalled. (My son). I was laughing hysterically, and my brother kept asking me to repeat it because I was trying not to yell "CHLAMYDIA!!!" across the freakin' table. I was mouthing it silently to him and he kept saying crap like, "Clambake?" "What?" "Claptrap? Huh?" and I kept laughing and shaking my head. When I finally got it out, he was disgusted and wanted to know if my son really knew what it was. I asked for him not to get too specific. My son told him that he knew that it was something I'd kill him for. Wise child. I really don't know if my brother knows what it is or not.
I thought it was a plant for years, and told my Mom I had some chlamydia. She freaked out on the phone when I told her and I was mystified as to why she was upset that I had taken an interest in gardening. She was screeching, "WHAT?!?!?! YOU HAVE WHAT?!?!?!" I kept patiently repeating "I have some Chlamydia. I got it today." She kept wigging the hell out. After going back and forth for about 8 hours about it, she finally said, "Wait. Do you mean, CALADIUMS?" and I said, "Yeah, isn't that what I said?" and she said, "NO! You said you had CHLAMYDIA!!!!!" and I said, "Oops, no. I have the plant. Not the disease." Then I probably hung up. I don't remember. Such is my life. A series of misunderstandings and insults. C'est la vie!
So, yeah. Today we went to have lunch with my family for my birthday which was yesterday. I'm 45. I don't care who knows. Who gives a crap? I'm obviously not 25, I have a child about to graduate high school, one in college and one who is probably going to be a perpetual freshman in high school. It's very obvious I'm not in my 30s. (Unless I started very early, in which case I would probably be dead because my dad would have murdered me.) I just don't want to look OLDER than I am. There is my rant on anti aging crap. Deal.
So, while we were at lunch, I mentioned that my best friend who lives in another state and I had sort of knocked around the idea of going to Costa Rica during Spring Break. Not like a "Girls Gone Wild" spring break. More of a "tired middle aged women with kids who want to sleep uninterrupted and lay on the beach" spring break. (Lay? Lie? I never can keep it straight.) Anyhow, my brother, who is 41, mind you...he decides that he is the Patriarch of the family, right? He decided this ohhhh, I don't know about 35 years ago or something. He's the boss, right? Wrong. Nobody is the boss of me. He decides to chime in with his sage advice. Here is the conversation in script form to allow for easier understanding:
My One and ONLY (Thank God) sibling: Um, Costa Rica?
Me: Yeah.
Him: You DO realize that you are 45, right?
Me: Duh. Can't get anything past you.
Him: You have kids.
Me: I DO? OhmyGOD!!!
Him: Very funny. You are not a kid.
Me: Really? Do tell. When is your NEXT (as in 50th) trip to DisneyWorld?
Are you gonna dance with Minnie Mouse this time?
Him: *glares at me*
Me: *glares back smugly*
My MOTHER(who butted into the conversation): Who is going to take care of________(my friend's daughter)?
Me: Dunno. I'm not her mother. ___________(my friend) is. My kids will be here with their father. Or you. If they are bad, with you.
Mom: You are not a nice girl.
Me: We've established that.
My brother who really should shut up: Don't you think it's a little irresponsible for you to go running off to party in Costa Rica?
Me: Um, nobody said we were "partying". I did mention "sleeping", though. ALONE. BLISSFULLY, QUIETLY ALONE. See, I'm FORTY FIVE and that is freaking HEAVEN to me.
So, my whole family now thinks I'm selfish because the idea was MENTIONED. No plans have been made, no tickets purchased...nada. They are SO selfish! What will they do when I tell them about my Yoga retreat in Sri Lanka or my Surfing Safari in South America?
One funny thing: My brother compared an aspic dish at the restaurant to the product "Clamato". My son thought he said, "Chlamydia". He was appalled. (My son). I was laughing hysterically, and my brother kept asking me to repeat it because I was trying not to yell "CHLAMYDIA!!!" across the freakin' table. I was mouthing it silently to him and he kept saying crap like, "Clambake?" "What?" "Claptrap? Huh?" and I kept laughing and shaking my head. When I finally got it out, he was disgusted and wanted to know if my son really knew what it was. I asked for him not to get too specific. My son told him that he knew that it was something I'd kill him for. Wise child. I really don't know if my brother knows what it is or not.
I thought it was a plant for years, and told my Mom I had some chlamydia. She freaked out on the phone when I told her and I was mystified as to why she was upset that I had taken an interest in gardening. She was screeching, "WHAT?!?!?! YOU HAVE WHAT?!?!?!" I kept patiently repeating "I have some Chlamydia. I got it today." She kept wigging the hell out. After going back and forth for about 8 hours about it, she finally said, "Wait. Do you mean, CALADIUMS?" and I said, "Yeah, isn't that what I said?" and she said, "NO! You said you had CHLAMYDIA!!!!!" and I said, "Oops, no. I have the plant. Not the disease." Then I probably hung up. I don't remember. Such is my life. A series of misunderstandings and insults. C'est la vie!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Various and Sundry
Howdy folks. I'm from Texas. We say "Howdy Folks". Nah, not really.
So, you know how people do dream analysis? I had a dream about a guitar last night. Figure that one out. I don't play the guitar. Ever.
Today was better than yesterday because I was able to actually TEACH CHILDREN IN THE CLASSROOM. Yahoo! Imagine that.
NOw, here is a deal: I knit. I'm not great, I'm still learning stitches to add to my repetoire, but I love it and I have made a bazillion headbands and hats. I am absolutely PETRIFIED to make something major like a sweater.
Now, I must pee. It's been great. But I have to go, now.
So, you know how people do dream analysis? I had a dream about a guitar last night. Figure that one out. I don't play the guitar. Ever.
Today was better than yesterday because I was able to actually TEACH CHILDREN IN THE CLASSROOM. Yahoo! Imagine that.
NOw, here is a deal: I knit. I'm not great, I'm still learning stitches to add to my repetoire, but I love it and I have made a bazillion headbands and hats. I am absolutely PETRIFIED to make something major like a sweater.
Now, I must pee. It's been great. But I have to go, now.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Not Fit For Public View
Hello. How are ya? Good. Great. Good to hear. Me? Not so great. Yeah, see...I had to go to a "meeting" today for work and our "meetings" are really "rip the hell out of the employee" sessions for the people "in charge". It's tiring. Really, really tiring. I did not take one single Xanax all day. I kick serious ass. We actually got told that we couldn't go OUT to lunch because we didn't look good enough for the public to see us. Seriously. Coupla problems with that. Number one: Shut up. You are an asshole.(the person who made the comment about going out in public.) Number two: Look in a mirror lately, asshat? Seriously. Get your money back from your dentist. For real. Number three: I'm not positive, but I'm PRETTY sure you can't keep me in a building or anywhere really against my will simply because you are an egomaniacal dipshit. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think so. If I am, please forward me the law or article or whatever that says I can be held against my will in my place of employment because a person who also works there is a sphincter. I'd appreciate it.
My neck hurts. My shoulder hurts. My head hurts. PLUS, on my WORST day, I look a million times better than that anal fissure has ever looked in their entire lifetime.
Yes, I'm complaining. I'm bitching. I'm allowed to do that. IT'S AMERICA, PEOPLE! I wanted to stand on the table and shout that today, but decided to not follow all of my urges immediately. It probably saved me from going to jail, but who's to say? Certainly not me. After all, I'm a lazy, not fit for public view, ass sitting individual who doesn't deserve to live. At least that is the message I got today.
If anyone wants to come work with me, let me know. I'll try and hook you up. I anticipate many openings after this Spring. Even though we were given Nostradamus-like predictions about gas prices and the economy,(it's bad...did you know that? I was ASTONISHED to learn this piece of news!), I think a lot of people are going to say "eff this crap" and look for greener pastures. Hell, browner pastures....ANY PASTURE would be better.
Sorry if I caused anyone to feel down. Life's a bitch. Suck it up. Come work with me and then try and not feel this way. I gotta go get some pharmaceuticals, now.
Love ya!
My neck hurts. My shoulder hurts. My head hurts. PLUS, on my WORST day, I look a million times better than that anal fissure has ever looked in their entire lifetime.
Yes, I'm complaining. I'm bitching. I'm allowed to do that. IT'S AMERICA, PEOPLE! I wanted to stand on the table and shout that today, but decided to not follow all of my urges immediately. It probably saved me from going to jail, but who's to say? Certainly not me. After all, I'm a lazy, not fit for public view, ass sitting individual who doesn't deserve to live. At least that is the message I got today.
If anyone wants to come work with me, let me know. I'll try and hook you up. I anticipate many openings after this Spring. Even though we were given Nostradamus-like predictions about gas prices and the economy,(it's bad...did you know that? I was ASTONISHED to learn this piece of news!), I think a lot of people are going to say "eff this crap" and look for greener pastures. Hell, browner pastures....ANY PASTURE would be better.
Sorry if I caused anyone to feel down. Life's a bitch. Suck it up. Come work with me and then try and not feel this way. I gotta go get some pharmaceuticals, now.
Love ya!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)