The First of Many, I'm Sure

I previously mentioned that I've started up the online dating thing again.  I also mentioned how stupid that was of me.  Proof of that is what I was sent today as someone who was deemed as a match for me:

im very out going persons love to have fun but im not rich. i do have a car but it very old. but i do have a job. and i have a little girl. but she live with her movies

Um.  What?

First, those of you reading this, would you have ever SERIOUSLY thought that someone who writes like that would be a MATCH for me?  If so, I am severely delusional about myself.

Second, he's very outgoing persons?  Like, more than one?  Is this a conjoined twin situation or just multiple personalities?  And are they all outgoing and fun, or just the one typing the profile?  Do they have different names?  Crap, what if they have different profiles?  How many more of THIS GUY am I gonna get matched to?

Third, his kid lives with movies?  Like at a theater?  Or is it that she's live with movies?  Like in them.  Live.  On TV.  And if that is the case, why isn't he rich?  He should get her a better agent.

See?  Told you this would be fun.  Look at all the fun we're having.  LOOK AT IT.


Online Dating

It has to be the holidays.  Surely it's the holidays.  After the last laughable bout of online dating, only an idiot would be doing this again.

Hi.  I'll be your idiot for today's blog.  Would you like some peanuts?

At the very least, I'll get some new material for the blog.

Christ, what am I getting myself into....


Killing Time

Fourteen minutes left to go until this (work) day is over. I would totally leave now, except I'm answering the phones because the receptionist left early. Hows that for suck?

Today was about worthless. Seriously. Came in about an hour late. Went to SASH to throw the geriatric department a Christmas party. Went to Aldaco's for lunch. Came in to work and surfed the internet, mostly reading about Bettie Page, who died yesterday. And now I'm sitting up front, where I actually did a smidgen, a SMIDGEN, of work. Now I'm blogging.

Nine minutes left.

Or pretending to blog. Is it still blogging if you are just randomly typing out stuff as it pops into your head?

I've got to haul buns out of here, head to pick up The Smoodge, then run over to Toys R Us or Walmart to get a gift card for the birthday party we have to go to this evening, which I have no idea where THAT is, then we'll come home and I'll take some photos of a friend of mine, who actually kind of looks like Bettie Page, so we'll probably do a couple of Bettie themed shots.

Six minutes. Six minutes. Six minutes, Doug E Fresh, you're on...

The gum in my mouth right now? Gross. If you have the opportunity to chew Extra classic bubble, don't. Trust me.

WHOO-HOO! It's go time!!! Hasta Pastas!

*side note: I did a spell check on this before I hit publish, and apparently smidgen is spelled correctly. Is that even a real word?


Death by Boredom

I hate days like this, where you get all the big stuff done, then you take a break, and have absolutely no motivation to pick up another task. I think at this point I would willingly stick a paperclip in my eyeball than work any more. Which leads me to being bored, which is STUPID because I have things I could do, but again, paperclip rather than working. I guess the argument becomes would I rather have a paperclip in my eye or be bored. Hmmm... that's a close one....

Two hours later, I've come back to this post after a minor emergency at work caused by incompetence. And it's time to go home. So that big long post I was gonna do? Yeah, gonna have to wait...


Random Chatting

Because I'm too lazy to put a real post up here (give me a break, this makes two in one day!), I'm putting up a conversation had between two coworkers over chat.

Coworker 1: guess what
 Coworker 2: what?
 Coworker 1: i drew coworker 3 for secret santa gifts
 Coworker 1: any ideas....
  what on earth should i get her??
 Coworker 2: facial laser hair removal
 Coworker 1: that's thoughtful
 Coworker 2: maybe a wax kit?
 you could get her a bear...
  or more shrubbery
 Coworker 1: she listed her favorite color as chinese blue
 Coworker 2: wtf is chinese blue?
 Coworker 1: not a clue
 Coworker 2: i'm googling it.....
 Coworker 1: lol
  i bet it's like a royal blue
  just funny way to say it
 Coworker 2: wow...the googling does not even remotely narrow it down
  there's about a billion shades
  get her a gift card to the megaplex
  i TOTALLY would do that
  shit, I might do that anyway
 Coworker 1: she also indicated that she likes christian music and puzzles
  jigsaw not just sudoku
 Coworker 2: wow
  that makes me sad
 Coworker 1: i've got to go shopping!!!!!!
 Coworker 2: seriously, i'm thinking megaplex gift cert.
 because she will give that back to you, and honestly? what's better than the gift that keeps on giving? isn't that what xmas is all about?
 Coworker 1: lol
  i'm all stocked up
 Coworker 2: but I'M not, and see, from there you can give it to's a christmas miracle


If I had waited three more days before posting this it would be officially a month since my last post. It's just like me to go and ruin it by posting something today. Ah, well.
It's just that time of year, or some other excuse that will cause you to nod your head and say, yeah, I totally get it, and that's a perfectly acceptable reason as to why this blog now has cobwebs and dustbunnies, and a cracked foundation due to unuse. Whatever, get over it.
I'm currently at work, and using this blog to procrastinate from cleaning my desk. Which, if you know me, you know that the fact that I have to clean my desk at all means things have been buuuuuuuusy. So here I am, cleaning. Not cleaning like with the Pledge and dust rag, but cleaning as in trying to make my way out of the four hundred seventy five stacks of paper keeping me hidden in a papercave. Oh wait, just found another, make that four hundred seventy six....
And now I've got to get back. Insert empty promise of blogging again here. ;)



It's 1:30 in the stinkin' morning and I'm still working.  Technically, I'm taking a break from working, but still.  The point is the same.  And the only reason why I'm taking a break anyway is because if I have to write the letters ST, OT, or DT one more time, I'm pretty sure that the twitch in my left eyelid will turn into a full blown seizure.  

To make matters even more AWESOME, my uterus is pumping enough estrogen through my body to qualify any of my actions as those of the legally least that's what my defense will be...

I wish I had more interesting things to say.  I guess I could talk about how The Smoodge familiarized herself with the Heimlich Maneuver today, but my brain is on the fritz right now, so ask me about it later.  Or how I had an interesting debate with a friend in the office today about...crap, I completely forgot.  I know it was interesting because I remember there being laughing, but as to got me.  Crap, how's that for a story.

Okay, back to the grind.  I'd like to get at least 20 minutes of sleep tonight.



I can feel the panic starting to rise. That burning in the pit of my stomach that causes my heart to pound and my breath to catch. The one that causes me to feel the catch in my throat as I try to keep the tears from pouring down my face.

In 17 minutes I go home. And I won't be picking up The Smoodge before I get there.

For the first time in 2 years.

She's spending the night with her dad tonight. She's never done that before. Every night of her life, since the moment she was born, she has slept in MY arms, in MY bed. She has woken up every morning and planted kisses all over MY face (even if it's AFTER she's Sharpied MY couch cushions). She has had her pudgy little feet jammed into MY ribs and spine. She wakes up in the middle of the night to pull MY arms back around her.

But not tonight. Not tomorrow morning.

Now we're down to 12 minutes.


Today's Emoticon: Angry

Don't say you haven't been warned.


Not Even a Little Bit

Motivated to work right now, that is. I'm tired, by muscles are mad at me, and my head has directed my most recent headache to my forehead. It's been a looooong weekend, and it's not over yet. And not in a good way.

I moved this weekend. In one day. Mostly. I mean, I took a truckload, no, TWO truckloads of boxes over on Thursday night (and by truckload I don't mean great big trucks that require a special license to drive, I mean a Ford F-150), Friday night I steam cleaned the carpets, and cleaned as much as I could out of the fridge, because it was freaking nasty people, but that's another paragraph. Anyway, then after that I went back to the old place to box up the rest of the crap. Saturday morning we woke up early and moved everything else out. That only took until about 5:30 or so. So maybe not one day. Anyway, the point is, I am completely in the new place, and completely out of the old place. Except the new place is old, and because it's old, I have to do A LOT of cleaning before I'll be comfortable unpacking done, and that's taking For Ev Ver. The Smoodge's room is mostly done, the bathroom is done, and that's it. The kitchen is my current goal, then the living room. Last is my room. Which means I'm sleeping on the couch right now, and wearing whatever clothing I packed last. Which sucks. I suck at this moving thing. HOPEFULLY though, after this, I'll either buy a house and live there until I die and be buried in the backyard, or I'll move to KC where at least I'll have help in moving. I don't care which.

The Smoodge turned two yesterday as well. Time has flown by. Yesterday was weird for me. I'd look at the clock and think back to the day she was born, and what I was doing exactly two years ago from that moment. Oh, that's when they gave me the epidural. Oh, that's when the cervidil (sp?) kicked in. Sarah and Tina came by at this time. Starting to push now. Etc, etc. I think what was also weird for me is that The Smoodge had no idea it was her birthday. She's two. She doesn't care. It's just another day for her, and why does Mommy keep hugging her and trying to hold her like a baby? I mean, everyone is all excited about her, and she doesn't get it. Next year, maybe, but this year, not so much. It holds more meaning for me right now than it does her. Not that she didn't enjoy the attention, oh, she did, she just doesn't understand why she got it. She had a blast at her party, she LOVED eating cake, and she had fun pulling out all the tissue from her gift bags. So much as changed in the last two years. For her, for me. It just blows me all away.

Has anyone ever noticed who quickly Super Bubble chewing gum loses it's flavor? And once it does, it begins to quickly turn your breath into a noxious fume that would peel paint off a naval boat.

Okay, so I started this post fully intending to finish it out, but now the two brain cells I was forcing to click together have died and I am unable to focus on anything other than getting some food in me and making my arms and legs stop burning. And back. Oh, and neck. Anyway, later I'll try to throw some pictures up of the party. And the new digs.


Happy Halloween!

My Little Butterfly Fairy

Is this thing still on?

Hello blog world? Took me awhile to dust off the cobwebs, but I'm still here! It's been a crazy couple of weeks, and right now I'm posting at work because my computer at home is unplugged. Why, you ask? Because I'm moving. This weekend. I KNOW! But I digress...

After my last post, The Smoodge and I came down with the stomach flu. Now, I don't know if you've ever had the stomach flu before, but I think that it's something that should have it's own month, bracelets, and perhaps a support group. Holy cow. I thought I was going to die. I've never had my intestines do an impersonation of a shot gun before. Being more than five feet away from a toilet was a risky maneuver, and a chance I dared not take. So for about 6 days me and the little one got to suffer through that. She was much braver than I was. I was fully prepared to put my pain and suffering on display on the couch, but I had to make sure she was fed and what not. CPS frowns on you if you don't. So yeah, that was that week.

I made it back to work on Friday, where I found a duplex listed that was exactly what I had been looking for, could not be in a better location, and for the right price. So, I did it. I've started moving a few things in, but for the most part, once I healed from my impending flu death, I've been packing. And I'm almost done. Which is not stressful at all considering I have to be out of where I'm at tomorrow by 1pm. Also not stressful is the fact that I'm breaking my lease and haven't let the property managers know. I'll worry about that once I'm out. Until then, I'm packing like a madman.

Oh, and did I mention? The Smoodge's birthday is SUNDAY. She turns two. And I've been making sure all the planning and what not that goes into that is getting finished.

So let's recap, shall we? Shotgun of the butt disease, packing, moving, birthday party. That makes me tired just typing it. Especially since I think that stomach flu death thing I had is still screwing with me a little. Some foods still upset my stomach, and my taste buds got jacked up too. I DON'T ENJOY DIET COKE LIKE I USED TO. I could knock back easily 5 or 6 in a day. And now? If I can take on one I'm lucky. The good part though, is that I've lost some weight. Maybe I should spit into test tubes, cap 'em off, and sell them as the newest diet rage. Except for the part where you wish you were dead, you could totally lose 10 pounds in a week! GUARANTEED!


Hooray for Friday!

Today's gonna be a good day. It's World Mental Health Day, which means I am totally justified in skipping out on the afternoon. And oh yeah, I'm gonna. Granted, I'll be spending the afternoon doing my daughter's homework...again...that's due today (she gets my procrastination gene...but technically maybe not, because she's 2, and she has no idea she has homework, so it's me who is procrastinating. I don't care, I just like saying procrastinating). But before that, I'm going to do collections here at work, which always makes me happy, because I get to say GIMME MY MONEY BITCH to a lot of people. Only more professional. And maybe not say bitch. Until I hang up the phone. Then after that, BIG LOU's. You don't EVEN know about some Big Lou's. Great stuff, and makes for even better leftovers. The best is leaving it in your car all day while you work, then going out in the evening for the drive home, opening that car door, and having your car burp Big Lou's at you.

Awww, yeah. Today's gonna be a good day!


Self Debate

Today is the first day of four that The Smoodge has visitation with her dad.  Well, potentially four.  Until she turns three, we have an interesting visitation schedule.  For the last two years, he gets her on his days off, from 7:30am until 5pm.  The exception of that is the weekends, which he only gets the first weekend he's off in the month.  Once she turns two, he gets one 24 hour period with her a month, and when she's two and a half, he gets one 48 hour period with her a month.  Once she turns three, we'll go to standard visitation.  To make it weirder, his schedule is one where he works five days, with four days off, then five more days, with four days off, then SIX days, then four days off, repeat.

I'll give you a minute to do that math.

All caught up?  Fantastic, let's move on.  The Smoodge turns 2 next month.  Which means as of this moment, no overnights.  Next month?  One overnight.  This month?  None.  November?  One.  October?  None.  Right now-....okay, okay, you get it, I'll move on.

That being said, today when The Smoodge's father dropped her off, he informs me that unless I allow him to have an overnight with her on Saturday night, he will be unable to take her at all for the weekend.  I said, well, um, you aren't supposed to get her on overnights until next month.  At which point he says, UNLESS it's mutually agreeable.  I think right here is where there is a problem.  I don't think he understands that mutually agreeable means I have to agree as well.  I also don't think he realizes I'm not a complete idiot.  Obviously if he can't take her for the weekend unless he gets her overnight that means he's going out of town.  With my daughter.  Um.  Not feeling a surprise trip randomly sprung on me.  But, me being the adult I'm pretending to be, I say, well, I don't know that I can agree to that unless I have more details.  You are going out of town clearly.  Where are you going?  How long will you be gone?  He gets ass look on his face that I could have slapped off with the backside of a four by four, and just says he can do it if it's mutually agreeable.  *sigh.  So I tell him, look, I'm uncomfortable with this, but give me the information I'm asking for and I'll think about it and get back with you.

Since that time, where I personally think I was being SOOOO freaking reasonable, I've done some more thinking.  This man owes me several hundreds of dollars in medical expenses alone for my daughter, and is constantly claiming he doesn't have the money.  Yet he has the money to go on a weekend trip?  I'd sure love to be able to take four people on a weekend trip.  OH!  Maybe I would if I wasn't paying 100% of OUR daughter's medical bills!  You think?

So here's my question to you, the angry masses.  Would it be unreasonable to tell him that if he provides me with the information I'm requesting, and a check covering his half of the medical bills, he can take her for the whole weekend?  Or should I just let him take her once he gives me the info?  I mean, I just can't justify doing him a favor (which is technically what I'm doing) without some sort of reciprocation, right?


Hard To Read, Hard to Write

I've actually been kind of dreading writing this post. But I know I need to, because I need to get it off my chest. It's been haunting me, and it's something that I talk myself through in the shower, and on my way to work once I've dropped off The Smoodge, and pretty much any time during the day that I'm not able to occupy my thoughts with something else. I'm hoping that by writing all this jumbly mess in my head down, I'll stop being so afraid. Deep we go...

There's a blog that I love to read, and yet every time I go to click on it, I hesitate. Sometimes to the point that I don't actually click on it. Sometimes when I click on it, and it takes more than 2 seconds to load, I'll take that as an excuse not to let it load and hurriedly click on the next blog in my line up (and yes, I have a blog line up. same order, every day, at the same time, not a moment before. thanks Dad, for the OCD!). I really do love reading it, but this blog, it....I guess it speaks to me in ways that I'm not ready to deal with yet, or maybe the fact that I continue to read it tells me I am ready to deal, or who knows. Maybe by blogging about this I'm hoping to find the real meaning as to why this blog scares the hell out of me, yet I'm drawn to it more than a moth to a flame...or like The Bloggess to vials of blood....or whatever other analogy/metaphor you would like to insert here.
I found this blog thanks to Jenny, The Bloggess (who in my head I am totally BFFE's with, even though she has no idea I even exist, but she did post a comment on one of my posts before, and I printed it out and framed it and now it sits next to my computer for inspiration... that's too much sharing, isn't it?) The Bloggess also posts to a blog with The Houston Chronicle called Good Mom/Bad Mom (because that's what true BFFE's do...they stalk you on ALL your blogging adventures. Blog-ventures, if you will), and because I enjoy that so much, I decided to dig around to the other blogs they have featured on there, and found one that advertised as "the struggles of a divorced mom". Now, me being one of those divorced mothers who is struggling, I thought I could relate. I thought it would be mostly about how hard things are raising a child on your own, a blog that would provide inspiration for me during dark times, funny stories of growing babies to relate to, mistakes that are commonly made and how to not make them, etc. And while it does touch on a lot of those things, she also talks about her ex (X) and the other woman (TOW).
Now, for those of you that know me, you know I can relate to both of those topics. As a divorced mother, OBVIOUSLY there's an ex. Even though sometimes I pretend The Smoodge was immaculately conceived (that sounds more like she was conceived in a clean room, which wasn't the case, as it was a hotel in Vegas, or very possibly a jacuzzi tub in Vegas, but I digress...the point is that immaculately conceived doesn't sound nearly as holy as immaculate conception....anyway). And there's an ex because there's another woman. I don't think about either of those two people. I don't like to. It hurts too much to think about the fact that the man I loved for so long and for so deeply decided I wasn't worth it any longer, and this other woman was. When I don't have to pick up and drop off The Smoodge for visitation, the only time the ex is in my thoughts is when I put him there, and it's usually because he owes me money, or is being an ass, and either way, he's there because I'm angry and I'm placing blame. I can't see him in any other light. I haven't allowed for he and I to be friends, or to talk jokingly with each other, because that just brings back all the pain of what he, and to some extent, she, forced onto me. Stolen. I had no choice in the matter. I'm not saying I was blameless, but I fought for my marriage to the very end. I clung to it, and I think that clinging is probably what dashed all hopes of a reconciliation.
But that's a whole other issue. The point is, that this blog that I love and hate all at the same time, deals with how she's dealing with having an ex and the other woman, and different scenarios she's gone through and how it felt and realizations she's had afterwards. And it's reading about those scenarios that just touch a little bit too close to home. I read her blog, and I can feel myself going through those same situations, and the emotions they bring on. I don't like to admit weakness, to a fault almost, yet when I read her blog, her heartfelt, honest portrayal of what it is she has gone through and continues to go through, I am forced to realize that I am still very, very weak when it comes to dealing with my ex. It's paralyzing almost. I feel the panic rising, and the tears welling in my eyes, and it takes me right into that place where I feel disposable and ignored and worthless.
I force myself through the blog though, and by the end of it, I feel better. And worse. I see a light at the end of a very, very long dark tunnel that has only been trekked by those of us who have suffered through it. And the light for me right now isn't that one day the ex and I will be able to have a civil relationship. It's that I'm not alone in having these feelings and paranoia's and downright fears. It's that reassurance from someone who is brave enough to openly admit what we are all thinking. That the other woman is going to replace us as mothers. That we can't just magically communicate with the ex simply because he's the father of our child and the court mandates as such. That despite the fact that we are all adults, sometimes acting like one just isn't worth it. That I'm not the only one out there that still sees marriage as a dream, and divorce as the brutal murder of that dream.
Sure, I glean other things from her blog as well. She does have the witty anecdotes and cute stories and whatnot. But those posts aren't what causes me to pause before clicking. It's the posts that force me to address the fact that regardless of how fine The Smoodge and I are by ourselves, regardless of how awesome I am as a mother (and dude, I am so awesome), she still needs her father. And despite the fact that he's a monster in my story, he's not one in hers.
And I swear to God if you ever tell him I said that, I will hunt you down and kill you. I will gladly do that time.
See? Growth.



Hi there.  I'm still here.  I have two posts that have been forming in my head for the past week that are filled with all kinds of meaning and insight, and at some point I'll stick them on here, but now I'm afraid that I'm building them up too much and when I actually get them posted everyone will read it and think wow, I'm so glad she waited a week to post about the three toed sloth.  Not that my post is about the three toed sloth, but you know what I mean.  Ugh.  Anyway.

I'm still here.  I will post again soon.  Probably not tonight.  Maybe tonight.  I don't know, let's wing it, shall we?  See ya soon!

Is it weird that I just did a spell check on the above?  I mean, it's what?  Three sentences?  Two?  All small words.  Not like I attempted to tackle that superfragi- word from Mary Poppins.  And I totally almost misspelled Poppins as Poopins.

And yes, I just spell checked that above paragraph as well.  


Am I doing it wrong?

For some random reason, about last Thursday I guess, I started having this overwhelming urge to go to church.  I have no idea why, other than maybe it's because I've been feeling like my life has become the epitome of out of control, but whatever.  It's not like I was hearing voices or anything, just out of the blue one day I think to myself, self?  Go to church.  Since I kind of talk to myself a lot, and most of what I say is random thoughts and makes not a lick of sense to those around me, I didn't put a whole lot of stock in it.  I mean, for all I knew it could be a guilty conscience thing because the pastor of my church just added me as a friend on facebook, and he was subliminally sending me peer pressure.  So I ignored it and went about my day.  But as Friday came and went, and then Saturday, the need to go to church just kept building and building to the point where last night I actually set my alarm to go to church.  If you know me, while this is a step in the right direction, it by no means is a form of commitment.  I am NOTORIOUS for being able to sleep through over an hour of alarm bells and whistles.  The only reason why I ever get up in the morning is because I want to, not because some electronic device is screaming at me.  So this morning the alarm goes off, and I, as per my norm, shut it off without even waking up.  Until about 9:30am, when, again, I feel like getting up and going to church is what I'm supposed to be doing.  So I wake up The Smoodge, crawl out of bed to get her breakfast, then start getting ready.  Since church is in New Braunfels, we have to be gone by 10 to make it.  And surprisingly, she eats quickly, I dress us both, and out the door we go.

I spent the whole driving thinking how God must realize that I really needed some sort of spiritual enlightenment and uplifting, and how today's service would be inspirational and gear me with the tools I need to make it through the next couple of weeks.  Only a small part of me is afraid that I'm going to get rammed head on by an 18wheeler at 70 miles per hour on the way there, because, let's face it, with my luck, I WOULD get an urge to do something that would lead to an accident.  But no, we get to church, I get The Smoodge checked in at the nursery, take a deep breath, and in I go.

All this urging and pressure and everything to go to church, and you know what happened?

Nothing.  Not a thing.  

Now don't get me wrong, it was a decent service.  No better, no worse than any other.  But surely I didn't wake up early on a Sunday morning to drive 30 miles and experience nothing?  I didn't feel touched, or enlightened, or...anything.  And I was definitely in a place to be receptive, both physically and emotionally.  Instead, I felt alone.  And empty.  I sat by myself.  I saw people I knew and smiled to be friendly and was ignored.  Even by the pastor himself.  

I don't know what this was supposed to show me.  How truly alone I really am?  Got it.  Thanks God.  I'm not angry, just confused.  I don't expect miracles, and I don't expect special treatment.  But I didn't expect my emptiness to be magnified in a place that I felt like I was supposed to go to.  I've always believed that I don't have to go to church to believe in God, or have a relationship with God.  I feel closer to Him in the evenings when I'm holding my daughter as she falls asleep than when I'm in church.  But every now and again I think it's good to go and experience the group interaction.  It's kind of like how a car needs gas.  I don't have to sit at a gas station all the time to have gas in my car.  I just have to go when I need a refill.  And I guess I just assumed that the direction I was being SHOVED in with going to church today, God was telling me I needed a refill.  So why didn't I get one?

Out of curiosity, and on a slightly different note,  can I consider the gas it took me to get there and back my tithe?  I mean, technically I spent more in gas on the drive than I would have actually put in the collection plate. 



I'm kind of OCD. And I completely understand why. It's how I am able to control something in my life that is so utterly out of control. I have a schedule that I keep, and when something gets off schedule, when something that is supposed to happen doesn't, I tend to start to get depressed, and then I start neglecting other things, and I just let it spiral and spiral until I realize I'm at the bottom and force myself to crawl my way back to the top.

First it's my dishes. I stop doing my dishes. And I'm one of those people that has a dishwasher that I use as a drying rack because I don't believe it does a good enough job. So when I stop doing dishes, they just pile up in the sink. Then I stop picking up The Smoodge's toys and just let them kind of clutter up the living room. Then I let the laundry pile up. It just keeps getting more disgusting from there. The point is, I know when I'm starting to get into this depression spiral, and I can usually snap out of it by just doing the dishes, or picking up the toys, or whatever stage I'm at, by correcting it.

Right now I'm not doing my dishes, and the toys are all scattered. And the only reason why I can't add laundry to the list is because laundry isn't done until Saturday evening, so I'm not officially to that point until then. But if right now is any indication, it's probably a good indication that's where I'm headed.

I know why.  Most if it has to do with the limitations that have been imposed on me by my ex and the courts of Comal County that don't allow me to care for my daughter in the way that I should.  That sucks a lot of my will to live.  I can probably attribute part of it to the horrible Uterine Overlord and its insistence that it spin my hormone levels into a blender filled to the top with no lid.  And in spite of understanding all of that, I still let it happen.  

It's strange, almost as though the logical side of my being steps away from the emotional side and says, um, hey.  You're about to go nucking futs and this is why so let's not do that, m-kay?  And the emotional side goes, NO WAY, I'VE GOT A GUN AND I KNOW HOW TO USE IT. 

*in case you were wondering, I don't actually have a gun.  at least not one that i would ever admit to having in a public forum because then it could be used against me should anyone i talk about killing ever get shot.

**seriously though, I don't have a gun.  It's a figurative gun that my emotions are fond of waving about like a monkey in a knife fight.  so again, just to be clear, i don't own a gun.


Toying With My Emotions

*Disclaimer-This post is probably fairly boring and confusing.  But I need to get it off my chest, and lucky me, I think that's kind of the point of having a blog.  However, if you do decide to read it, you'll definitely get a good glimpse into why I haven't had the energy to post in awhile.  

Before I start this story, let me first give you a list of important players.  That makes my life a lot easier, which is what's really important here.

Dr. A - PCP
Dr. R - Geneticist
Dr. B - Cardiologist
Dr. E - Gastrointerologist

Mostly giving you this guide means I only have to type 3 letters instead of up to 18.  See?  Making my life easier.

About a month ago, The Smoodge's PCP (primary care physician for those of you who think I would allow my daughter to have her own stash of drugs) scheduled her to go see a cardiologist for the heart murmur that her geneticist diagnosed.  Dr. R said it could be detected both above and below her heart, and since heart problems are common in Chromosome 10 deletions, it warranted an appointment with Dr. B.  Dr. A is who scheduled it because he's kind of the hub of the wheel, if you will.  Anyway, Dr. A had his nurse schedule the appointment, and she called me to let me know when it was.  And the date she told me was September 24, 2008 at 9:30am.  So today rolls around, and The Smoodge and I head out for the appointment.  I ended up missing my exit, and, thanks to all the WELL THOUGHT OUT construction going on in San Antonio, called Dr. B to let him/her (I don't know yet, we haven't met) that we were going to be late.  Long story short, her appointment wasn't scheduled for September 24th, it was scheduled for October 24th.  By the time we had gotten that figured out, not only had the MENSA candidate posing as a receptionist and I bonded, but I was sitting in the parking lot of the medical center.  I nicely (no really!  I know how I can be, but this time, I was so freaking patient, I was channeling Gandhi)  asked if we could be seen anyway, and was shut down.  Ugh.  However, that lovely receptionist was able to slap a couple of brain cells together and ask if I wanted to add The Smoodge to the cancellation list to possibly get her into see Dr. B earlier than the end of October.  So I signed up for that plan, and off to the rest of the day we went.  The Smoodge to her school, and me to my place of bidness (that's slang for business).

Blah blah blah, day goes by, blah blah blah.  The Smoodge and I get home, and a strange number calls my phone.  It's Dr. B's office, and they have had a cancellation for tomorrow at 2:30pm, and would we like it?  Um, yeah...that's gonna be a positive.

So now I get to go through all of the worrying and sleeplessness (that's kind of a stupid word...too many 'ess's...or is it es-i?...whatever) tonight.  The Smoodge has a whole slew of doctors and appointments and issues and things that have to be watched and all kinds of stuff.  And I'd like to think that even though my daughter's body has kind of turned out to be a lemon, we've weathered a lot of this fairly well and are making lemonade.  And by we, obviously I mean me and The Smoodge.  But that's a rant for a different date.  Anyway, weathering things well, and doing what needs to be done.  When she wouldn't stop vomiting long after the spitting up phase of her life should have been over, Dr. A sent us to Dr. E to have it checked out, who did an endoscopy/flex sigmoid and determined it was esophagitis caused by acid reflux.  And now she takes meds twice a day to combat the acid reflux.  So then we went to Dr. R on Dr. A's recommendation because he wanted to see if all her other little issues were tied together through some kind of syndrome, and Dr. R discovered the Chromosome 10 deletion, which, by the way, really not a lot of information on, it's just kind of check any bodily system that displays any signs of anything out of the norm, the heart murmur, and the elevated liver levels, we went back to Dr. A to get a sonogram of her liver to see what was wrong, and they discovered her gall stones.  Gall stones, in case you aren't aware, are fairly unheard of in an 18 month old without mitigating circumstances, such as premature birth (she wasn't), feeding tube (she doesn't have one), or very heavy antibiotics (nope, not this one either).  So then we had to go to a surgeon, and he and Dr. E agreed that the gall bladder needed to be removed, so we did that.  My 23 month old daughter no longer has a gall bladder.  Anyway, now that we have that dealt with the gall bladder issue, which we thought would take care of the liver issue, Dr. A decided to move on to the heart murmur issue.  Which leads us to Dr. B.  And we're still dealing with the liver issue, but at this point it's just waiting for blood results from Dr. E, but that is ALSO another rant.  Current issue at hand, cardiologist.  

Throughout ALL of that, and believe me, that's the abbreviated version, the only time I really start to panic or freak out or drink excessively (kidding...sort of...mostly...) is when I don't know something.  And the culmination of that not knowing just comes to a head the night before the appointment.  All the other doctor's appointments I don't so much freak out about anymore, simply because I mostly know what's going on.  Currently with the heart thing, I don't, and so last night I was panicky, and then when the appointment didn't happen, I calmed down, and now I'm all nervous again, because it's back on.  It's definitely better to do this tomorrow instead of a month from now, but man, I gotta get some sleep at some point.  I guess that's just the price I pay for being proactive instead of reactive.  While a heart murmur isn't generally a big deal, and tons of people have them, and especially in a less than two year old whose pipes haven't gotten themselves all figured out yet, what elevates this is her chromosome issue.  And I realize it's a slight murmur, but then I think about how I was told not to worry about her vomiting until they discovered it was a good thing I worried.  And I was told not to worry about her gall stones, until they removed her gall bladder and discovered she had been passing gall stones for probably her whole life.  So yeah.  Elevated liver levels?  Heart murmur?  What's to worry about there?

And to keep from going completely bat shit, I'm going to be going through the 1039 emails that have been piling up in my inbox this evening and organizing my day for work tomorrow to help time go by faster.  So stop by, say hello.  I'll probably be on facebook, and meebo, and whatever else.  I'll take any distractions.     

Funny! Funny. Funny?

I stumbled across this picture today at this website:
Come ON! THAT's damn funny!

No? Not funny? Just me?

I thought you people were my friends.

Sidebar-when you say 'funny' a bunch of times, it makes you feel like you are saying it wrong. Try it, right now, out loud. See? Told you. Who's laughing now?


Damn Cat

I am not a quitter.  I'm really not.  And I've had pets all my life, and understand the importance and commitment of having and caring for one.  And when I got my cat, my horrible horrible cat, I thought it would be a good idea.  I though, self, get yourself a cat, for a lot of reasons.  One, it'll keep you company at night once The Smoodge is asleep.  Two, it'll be good for The Smoodge to have a critter around to help her learn how to be nice and all that other crap you're supposed to teach kids.  Three, a cat would be good in an apartment, and isn't icky like a fish, or weird like a lizard, or smelly (except for the litter, I had forgotten about the litter) like a rat or mouse (and The Smoodge would totally squish a rat or mouse), or need room to run like a puppy.  So I got a cat.  And he's very handsome.  And I suppose on some level I do love him.

But he.  Is.  A shit.

I CANT FIX THIS STUPID CAT!  There is something really REALLY wrong with him.  I had him neutered and declawed, hoping BOTH of those things would chill him the fuck out.  FAIL.  He EATS THE CARPET IN MY APARTMENT!  WHO DOES THAT?  He doesn't eat meat.  At all.  My cat does not eat meat.  I am ashamed.  He LOVES fruits and vegetables, and does not even like meat juice.  WTF?

I have, on numerous times, come perilously close to putting him in the dumpster and being done with it.  I'm not kidding.  I love him, but I love the bottom of my feet too, and when I step on a CARPET NAIL because that little son of a bitch has chewed the carpet down to the concrete and wood, it makes me want to find a potato sack, some rope, and a couple of rocks.  I've got the rope and the rocks.  He's lucky I can't find a sack.  He is SO close to being adrift in the safe harbor of my patience.

So please.  ANYONE OUT THERE.  How can I make him stop eating the damn carpet?  And if you dare tell me to use bittering agents, I will kick you in the neck.  He likes the way that tastes.  Sprinkle some pepper on the area, you say?  Nope, big fan of that as well.  

I like him, I really do.  I don't want to have to put him in the dumpster.  It stinks in there.  And he doesn't have claws, so he won't be able to fend for himself against the crickets and nutria.


A Post Just To Post

I haven't been able to do this because there are too many things going on.  And by the end of the day my brain hurts, and I can't think of anything to say, and the only thing worse than not saying anything is saying something that is nothing.  But that can't really be true because then 99% of the blogs out there wouldn't exist, and to be perfectly honest, neither would this one.  I mean, hell, the name of this thing itself means nothing, so...crap, I think I just talked myself into a circle.  I feel dizzy.

While I recover, enjoy some pics from this weekend.  No seriously.  ENJOY THEM.  That's an order.


Funny...or scary...

So my last post kinda sucked, it was all dark and twirly and whatever, but as I'm going through my site meter to see who is stalking me (and I know you are, just so you know, I know, but I'm okay with it, so don't sweat it...just don't send me your fingernail clippings.  I draw the line there...and a few other places, but we'll start with the fingernails) and I see that someone from the Texas Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation has been checking out my blog.

I either appeal to those who are MHMR, which, is kinda cool, or someone working for the state of Texas thinks my blog qualifies as MHMR and is now gathering evidence to present a judge to get a warrant for the men who want to put a snug fitting and oh so stylish white coat on me.  Whoever it is, and regardless of their intentions, it's their first visit, so I'd like to welcome you.  Hi.  I'm Mandy.  This is my blog.  Hope you're enjoying yourself.  Make yourself comfortable.  Don't send me your fingernail clippings.

Oh, and keep checking my blog from there.  That way I can list my blog as a consultant for the Texas Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation.  And that's totally going to build my stats. :)  

its...Its...ITS ALIVE!!!

It's been just over a month since my last post, and do I have anything meaningful and insightful to say?  Nope.  Not even a little.  I've even been pondering the last few days what I should blog about once I finally get back up on that ole blogging horse.  And did anything come out of it?  Nope.  So I'm just going to pretend like that prolonged absence didn't happen and move on.  Everyone on board?  Mm-kay.

I joined facebook.  To those of you who claim that I said I would never join facebook, I say fabricators!  And non-listeners!  I said MYSPACE!  I would never join MYSPACE!  I never said anything about facebook....(hold on a sec, combing the archives and deleting any facebook references so they can't be used against me in a court of law)....(okay, never mind, I don't have that kind of patience, and sadly, i kind of bore myself)...or if I did say anything about facebook...(whoo-hoo, disclaimer!) was that other people were on it, and I didn't get it.  But now?  Well, I still don't get it, but, at current count, I have 24 friends to help me through it.  I know right?  TWENTY FOUR WHOLE FRIENDS?  I know, go ahead and hand over that Miss Popularity title.

Seriously though, joining facebook has been interesting in ways I never imagined.  I'm finding all these people that I knew in what seems to be a completely different life.  I talk to them...oh excuse me...I write on their walls (wtf?), and they write on mine, and the conversation strain seems as though it picks up right where it left off.  Except I'm not the same person I was when I left off 10 years ago.  And I hope they aren't either.  Because I don't know that I want to know my high school friends all over again, I want to know the people they have become.  I hope that I'm not still seen as the girl I used to be.  I know I'm a lot more pessimistic now.  A realist.  A....don't throw things at me, Cori...conservative.  I still like to have a good time, and laugh, and talk about old times, as long as everyone realizes that that's all it is.  Reminiscing.  Not trying to relive.  I do miss that girl though.  She had the world at her feet.  

So now, where do you go when you meet all these old friends?  Do they become new friends?  Are they old new friends or new old friends?  What do they expect of me?  What do they see me as?  Do I care?  I don't know.  In reality,...shit, can you even call it reality?  It's online for gosh sakes.  That's not reality....anyway, in reality, I'm thankful that I'm at least not forgotten.  That all these people who, when they see me on the street don't glance my way, at the very least recognize my name and say hello.  And yes, some of you have passed by me in the street and looked right through me.  And no, I'm not going to stop you.  But that's another topic for another day.  As for not being forgotten, it's reassuring to know that even though I live in this single mother prison, I can still be virtually remembered.

Wow, I think I just went to the dark place.  And I'm not even drinking.  Ok, that's about enough of that.  Besides, I gotta go finish The Smoodge's homework.  And check my facebook.  Maybe someone has written on my wall. :)


Bucking the System

I know it's supposed to be Wordless Wednesday or whatever, but while the rest of you sheep are conforming, I'm posting. Tha man ain't gonna hold ME back!

Seriously though, I don't really have anything to say, so it may have been better for me to conform and not say anything at all. I've had my brain sucked out through the numerous interviews that I had to be in on for the open position where I work. I posted previously about the kind of AWESOME applicants we've gotten, and apparently that person has gone out and bred new AWESOME applicants, and they all feel the need to waste my time and mental capacity.

Anyway, I took what little brain I had left and posted a couple of shots to my flickr. Instead of forcing you to click on a link which will magically whisk you away to another location, I'll just post them here instead. I know if you've had the day I've had, the concentration it takes to use your index finger in a clicking motion is enough to push you over the edge and into a vat of squeezie cheese. That, and there's only two pics, as opposed to the normal mass flickr-ing I'm accustomed to. Without further ado....TA-DA!

I know, I know. Hold your applause.



Creepy video of the mythical Chupacabra. Actually, the video itself is not creepy. And if you didn't know about the Chupacabra, then you would wonder why the hell I'm linking to a video of a dog's ass. Well, that's because it's not just any ole dog's bum, it's a Chupacabra. Which we've seen before, and some people may think is related to the Montauk monster (which I first read about here). It's not though. Ours is cooler, and still slightly mythical, and sucks goats. That Montauk one? All it does is die on the beach (apparently), have mange, and join gangs (hence the bandanna around it's arm). Ours tries to outrun the fuzz. BEAT THAT MONTAUK! Also, my favorite part of the Chupacabra video is when Officer Tubby yells 'Yeeooh!'. Welcome to Texas, y'all!

In slightly other news, last night was the Perseid meteor shower, which had the potential to be really cool, except San Antonio decided to suck and pull some cloud cover. Granted, I didn't go out in the boonies to see this, and the odds were pretty slim I'd see them from my balcony. But guess what? I did! I saw one, and it looked like a slow moving firework streaking across the sky. Had the geek at work not informed of the meteor shower, I would have promptly made a tin foil hat to wear and armed myself with a squirt bottle. I should interject that I am VERY afraid of aliens. I know, it's irrational. I also have a fear of dinosaurs. And birds. But that's for another post. Right now it's the aliens. I completely blame it on my aunt who at the tender age of ONE forced me to watch E.T. Despite being scared, she still made me watch the WHOLE MOVIE, in the THEATER. Which I did. Backwards. I sat there for two hours and listened to that creepy little sausage fingered alien sucker children into believing aliens are nice. I only think it may have scarred me a little bit.

I didn't mean for this blog post to be so awesome in it's linkage-ness, but behold, the multiple links in which to occupy your day! Enough drivel for now, back to the grind!


Some pics

I posted a few shots of The Smoodge and some roses I received (after my lunch date this week, more on that later) on Flickr. Feel free to check them out here.

And then watch the video I posted earlier again just for good measure...because its FREAKING HILARIOUS. Thanks to BIDP for the link!



Actually Not My Fault!!!

I just got some of the most awesome news EVER! Okay, maybe not ever, but pretty close, and actually, when you think about it, the only thing awesome about the news is that it's not my fault, the rest of it is pretty stressful and heartbreaking and blah blah blah. So ACTUALLY my most awesome news ever is kind of selfish and petty and probably not even worth mentioning because then you will see how selfish and petty I am and then question my morals...

Oh, what do I care! It's awesome news!

So, you know how The Smoodge has all these medical issues, right? The recent gall bladder surgery, acid reflux, esophagitis, heart murmur, chromosome 10 deletion, developmental delays, possible hearing and vision issues, weird feet thing, and whatever else I'm missing. Oh, and the liver thing, but that might not actually be a thing, we're still waiting on the results from that. Anyway, all the things, and the last time we were at the geneticist, they took my blood to help try to figure out what is going on with The Smoodge's issues. And that was in June. And they just called me a little bit ago to tell me the results. And you know what those results were? Drum roll please......................

I'M NORMAL!!! There is nothing wrong with my DNA! Her issues...NOT MY FAULT!!!!
*severe happy dancing commencing
**might possibly be more like happy headbanging and jumping off the walls

Which means, you, my darling ex. You, you, you. Well, you have retarded sperm. You're sperm is the genetic equivalent to a man wearing cut off shorts, a wife beater, and sporting a mullet with yellow stained buck teeth. And crossed eyes. And a toe or two missing. Or added. Stick that in your coffee and SUCK IT!

Me and my normal self, we'll just be chillin' over here, in the normal people section...

A Letter to My Blog

Dear Blog,

I apologize for being so neglectful. It hardly seems like time has moved at all, yet when I check the archives, it's been over a week since I last posted. And for that, I owe you an apology.

I will not belittle you with excuses, nor pacify you with empty promises of a future post. I can only ask that the next time I log in, you not glare at me accusingly through my computer monitor. I know. Believe me, I know.

So as I bid adieu for now, and can make this one guarantee. When I post again, there will be lots to say, and lots of pictures. And possibly a video...but don't get your hopes up.

Jo & Angie
(Joe Mama Angie Daddy)


Ranks Right Up There

I have done a lot of really dumb things in my life. A lot. In fact, I've probably done more stupid things in my life than I've done good. And I know I'll have to pay for that one day, which is why my mantra when people have told me that I'm going to hell is that the first one there buys the beer. So it's not gonna be a shocker, is all I'm saying. But today's stupid act is one for the record books. I'm not a reckless person, but I'm also a person that doesn't back down. It's important for you to know this about me, because it's going to relate directly to this post. If you tell me that the sky is blue, I'll argue how incorrect you are, and not only are you incorrect, but how also a real friend would have never let you leave the house dressed like that. I go for blood, and I'm in for the long haul. Hence how my strong headedness has led to today's stupid event.

I'm driving home, The Smoodge happily licking her toes and giggling in the backseat, when a car comes hauling ass up behind me and firmly maintains a 2 inch distance from my rear bumper. There was a car in front of me preventing me from either speeding up or getting out of the way of El Speedy behind me, and construction on either side keeping me from pulling off. So I maintained speed, slowing slightly because if El Speedy behind me decides to use his car as a battering ram I at least won't maintain any front damage. This apparently angers El Speedy because he then begins to back off me, then speeding back up to get as close as possible, repeating this vehicular representation of a toddler stamping his feet about three times. Then he starts in with the horn. I check to make sure he has no lights and sirens, and then proceed to slow down further. I'm not into unnecessary torture (well, okay, that's not entirely true), but this guy had ticked me off. The car in front of me pulls away, and that's when I decided to LIGHTLY tap my brakes so that El Speedy would know I'm acknowledging his impatience, and I don't give a flying fuck. He backs off to a much safer three inches from my bumper, and I travel the remaining 10 feet to my driveway. Mistake number one. I know, I probably made a billion other mistakes, but this is where I begin counting. Anyway, El Speedy decides to zip in next to me as I pull up to the keypad to enter the gate code. He rolls down his passenger window as I'm rolling down my drivers window, and since he's glaring at me, I return the favor. Our conversation went roughly like this:

Me: Hello, kind sir. And what might I do for you on this fine day?

El Speedy: Are you out of your fucking mind? What are you trying to do?

Me: I'm confused by your implications. I was driving safely along when you advanced upon me in an aggressive manner. I was simply trying to alleviate any and all traffic hazards that may have resulted in an accident.

El Speedy: Are you trying to get your car wrecked?

Me: Are you threatening me? (insert your own Beavis and Butthead voice here)

El Speedy: I am not threatening you. I am trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you that you would slam on your brakes and try to cause a wreck. Are you trying to mess up your car?

Me: Again, sir, I have to ask if you are threatening me. Need I remind you that it was YOU who was riding my bumper, endangering myself and the vehicles behind you while you continually advanced upon me in a manner that indicated you had somewhere to be in a hurry, which clearly you do not because instead of continuing on your way, you've pulled over here and are engaging me in conversation.

I said that that was ROUGHLY how it went down. There might have been a tad bit more profanity (from me), and I may have said something along the lines of 'yapping your gap' instead of 'engaging me in conversation,' but you get the gist of what happened. Regardless, when he realized he was not going to win this argument with me, he changed his tune to 'I just wanted to make sure you were okay' and 'I just wanted to apologize for my reckless driving.' (no really, he did say that...honestly!) Anyway, I told him that I accepted his apology, and requested that he have a great evening. He left, and that's where I realized my stupidity. All this happened in the driveway to my apartment complex, and now he knows where I live.

Which is why I'll be spending the next two or three nights in the front seat of my car with a can of mace and an air-zooka. I'd just like to see him come back and try to jack with my car. Only once, mother-fuckah.

Topic Trouble

I struggle fairly regularly on what to blog about. At least when I sit down to blog. During the day, I'll come across several things that I think would make for awesome topics, but when it comes time to put the thoughts down on computer screen?...I blank. Completely. And I'm left doing stupid posts like all the different ways you can make up dumb names or the post that I deleted a few minutes ago because, really? Who wants to hear about the mind boggling crap my daughter took this morning? And then I start thinking about, well, why do I blog in the first place?

I'm going to have a take break from this post because my co-worker is yelling at his kid on the phone. He just told his kid that he was 'gonna ground him somethin' fierce. I am turning purple here to keep from laughing. Oh my good god. Live action folks, you heard it here first. Giant man with diabetes squeezes himself into a cube and yells into the 'talky box' that you ain't got no right to give your mom heck. Coworkers are all standing in the doorways of their cubes wondering what the hell is going on. It's like a giant car wreck on the highway. You know there's blood and guts, and you don't want to look, but how often do you get the opportunity to see what squished human looks like? Wow. This is crazy. I'd give you a play by play, but it's being done in such a thick southern accent that I'm having to translate after the fact, Oop, looks like the fights over. Sounds of phone slamming, and a giant GEEEZ comes from the cube. Party's over folks, nothing to see. Don't gotta go home, but you can't stay here.

Okay, that first part of my post, never mind about all that...



I finally met a goal! Sure, it was a little one, that really has no pay off or reward to it. It's not even redeeming really, other than the fact that I actually did it! My goal, you ask? To post fourth of July pics before the end of July. And the last day of July is tomorrow. Take that suck-ahs!

Oh, go here to see them :)

Mango Bra-ie

You know you're bored when you voluntarily play The Name Game... Maybe boredom is the wrong word. Lack of interest in work. That's a bit more accurate. Either way, enjoy the fruits of my nothingness.

And also, don't judge me. I can hear you doing it, so just knock it off.

YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)
Princess Lancer

YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)
Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ranger

YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)

YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Det. Blackdolphin

YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Jo Richmond

YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)

NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)
Richard Gene

WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names )
Ann Gene

TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)
No Idea Naples

YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)
The Rock, Paper, Scissors Water Spout Tour

SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)
The Lime Green Red Headed Slut

STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)
Baby Hair Warhead

SPY NAME/BOND GIRL: (your favorite season, holiday/ flower)
Hurricane Oktoberfest

CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)

Mango Bra-ie

HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)

Nothing Pecan

See how fun that was? Now I tag all of you...okay, both of you...okay, Mom, you're tagged.


Out of nowhere

Reason number four billion, three hundred twenty six million, eight hundred ninety five thousand, one hundred and three why I hate California:

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me?

Los Angeles wants to place a moratorium on fast food restaurants in low income areas because the people there are too fat? Why? So that sit down restaurants can go in and offer their healthy, happy food for more than the residents of that area can afford, go broke, and then encourage area residents to vandalize and break in so they can recoup insurance money to get the hell out? Have these idiots ever sat down and compared the prices on healthy food vs unhealthy food? IT'S RIDICULOUS! You could buy a tank of gas for what it costs to eat somewhere that serves all that free-range chicken and freshly washed tomatoes. Oh, they are going to offer incentives, you say, to keep the prices affordable? Incentives that people like myself, a member of working class America, are going to have to pay for, all the while being unable to afford healthy food for myself and daughter? There are so many different arguments that can be gotten into regarding the stupidity of this decision, furthering my belief that there is SERIOUSLY SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE WATER IN CALIFORNIA. Look, I'm not a proponent of unhealthy food, nor am I proponent of healthy food. You will find just as much mac and cheese and white castle burgers in my pantry and freezer as you will salad and vegetables. But putting a ban on trans fats and restricting business isn't going to make the residents of South LA thinner. And if you think it will, then you need to pull off those rose colored glasses and get a grip on reality. And maybe call a shrink. Because you are seriously delusional. Possibly high.

Everyone has choices they have to make in life. Apparently South LA has chosen to be fat. What's next? Will the city council cut off all cable television because if those fat asses would go outside and take a walk instead of honing in on a Judge Joe Brown marathon they'd shed a few pounds as well? Seriously California. It was bad enough when you stuck signs on every single thing saying that 'this item will give you cancer', now you gotta get rid of the Happy Meal too? You want to butt your fake tanned, rehab loving asses into the real world? Work on the issues in this comment I found in relation to the article:

"I'm poor and overweight. Will banning my access to fast food restaurants improve my dietary habits and help me loose weight? ABSOLUTELY NOT The government needs to realize that low income peoples dietary habits are more a result of economics than choice I try to feed myself & 2 teens on $164.00 of food stamps each month. Yesterday in the grocery store I wanted to buy fish (high in heart healthy omega 3 oils) fresh salad vegetables, orange juice and 12 grain bread and some watermelon The cost of these items: $24.00! what I got was white bread@ $1.59, Hot dogs @ 1.99, 1 bag of frozen veggies @ .99,1 can of beans @ .69, 1 3liter orange soda @ .99 and a 1/2 gallon of fruit flovored sherbet @ $1.99. You do the math... I can't afford to buy and eat healthy foods. You can buy candy and chips and soda with food stamps but not multi vitamins. I often have to go to Food Pantries and settle for whatever handouts I can get and the only time we got fresh fruit there during all of last year, was at Christmas. By the way I went to Mc Donalds this week to buy my daughter a $1 cheeseburger to go with the free fries coupon she got at the dentists and I bought a $1 salad which had cherry tomatoes,cucumbers and mixed baby greens... "

Leave the Golden Arches alone. The only people it might be hurting are the people you don't bother yourself with anyway. What do you care?


Post NOT from the Coast

We're home. And I'm VERY tired. So instead of telling you about the beach, the good dinner gone bad, the late night, the aquarium, all the people who touched my kid today, and miscellaneous other bits of what has happened since my last post, I will leave you with a few pics and a video. Just to tide you over until I get my brain back.


Post from the Coast 2

The Smoodge is in taking a quick nap, so while she's busy dreaming about pelicans and seagulls, I'm sitting in the shade of the balcony feeling the salty breeze and watching kayakers and boaters lazily float past.

We woke up late, no surprise there since The Smoodge didn't crash out until around 1am, and I didn't hit the sack myself until around 3. Got up, grabbed a tortilla and came out on the balcony to feed the winged rats (seagulls) and fish. Those seagulls are talented, boy. Toss it up in the air and they'll dive bomb to catch it before it hits the ground. They also displayed their hummingbird capabilities by riding the wind right in front of your face until you toss the morsel they are waiting for. I got a few pics, and we'll try for more later once we have real bread. Tortillas suck for tossing; too light. I'll have to post them when I get back home because I didn't bring a card reader down here. Anyway, after we did that for a bit, we got dressed and headed down to this little dive that had phenomenal burgers. Now, I'm not one to wuss out and not finish a good meal, but this was so filling I had to tap out early. The Smoodge got chicken strips, and they were surprisingly good.

And now we're back here, waiting for The Smoodge to awaken and planning our afternoon. Possibly going to rent a boat to cruise around in for a bit, or maybe some jet skis. There's also the option of going on a sunset tour with another boating company as well. Today's a lazy day, just whatever we feel up to doing. Tomorrow we'll hit up the aquarium, and maybe the Lexington on our way out of town.

And if I play my cards right, before we leave here I'll have myself a sugar daddy to buy me a place down here. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Post from the Coast

We are here. After a couple hour drive, then a couple more hours getting The Smoodge back to sleep, but we are finally sitting down to life as it should be. Sitting in a warm salty breeze, eating powdered donuts, drinking bottomless cups of Diet Coke, and chatting.

I am not shitting you, one of my friends just made a batch of cookies and set them down in front of us. I hope my funeral was fun, because I must have seriously died and this is what heaven is like.

Funnily enough, two of us are online, the third, well, she was busy making cookies (she knows her role), and we've got Pulp Fiction on the tube.

The drive here was not so bad. We got on the road around 8, The Smoodge was crashed out before we even left the city limits. And that's when the three hour marathon of every awesome song from the past rocked us all the way here. You do not know a good time until you are singing along with The Proclaimers explaining how you'd walk five hundred miles (and then you'd walk five hundred more), hoping the fuzz don't stop you. I just don't know how humorous they would have found it when we rolled down the window and let them know that under no certain terms are we ceasing the singing until the da da da-da's are over.

So yeah, I'm having a great time. And we haven't even done anything yet. Technically, at this point in the trip, we could have driven 1604 around and around for three hours until we stopped back at someones house to blog and bake cookies.

Ezekiel 25:17 :)



Can't go wrong with a title like that. No siree, it's simple, to the point, and universal. That being said, LET THE WEEKEND BEGIN!... about an hour. At which time, I will tear out of here like a bat out of hell, careen through traffic in an effort to beat any jams in order to pick up The Smoodge, make my way over to the apartment, where I will anxiously await for my dinner to arrive, eat, pack, and load into the car, where we will promptly head to my weeeee-kend of fun. And time. Could not. Be moving. More sloooooowly.

It flew for most of the day. Got in, handed out checks. Spent the morning configuring some hardware and software for time management purposes, which is something that has only taken me the last 3 months to do, but whatever. Wrote out some instructions for miscellaneous things, reviewed some applications, just in general keeping busy stuff. NONE of which were scheduled for today, but, like I said earlier, whatever. It doesn't matter if I have my day scheduled down to the SECOND, only about 3% of what I have scheduled. You know what that three percent is? Showing up and leaving. I can't even guarantee a lunch break. But I digress. Back to the topic at hand, which is how freaking slooooooooooow the day is moving along now that I only have 39 minutes until I am out of here.

Oh who am I kidding? I'm leaving early, so it's really only about 20 minutes. The bosses are gone, and the only people that are left aren't worth the matter they're made up of, so yeah, I'm out of here early. Just try to stop me.

Alright, I think I've killed enough time here. I'm going to try to get a few more things done, and then I'm off! WHOO-HOO!


Late Night Post

I just posted some shots on my Flickr. I actually don't have a lot of time to post because I'm doing laundry in preparation for my weekend o' fun. And waiting for a phone call. And trying to stop the bleeding. I shaved my legs, and as I've mentioned before, I'm not so good at that, so now I'm trying to decide at what point do I need a transfusion. Getting dizzy......

Hehe, kidding, but I did give myself a rowdy cut while shaving. So much so I had to rinse the chunk of flesh from the razor. I know, how's THAT for a visual. But at least I know that I have mad skills should I ever need to fillet a fish with a razor.

ANYway, I posted some shots, so enjoy. I'll blog a bit more tomorrow. I'm kind of in a dark place tonight and don't want to talk about it, so let's try again tomorrow when I'm a bit more chipper, shall we?


Round One

I shot this from my balcony, and it's the first round of Dolly's outer bands about to hit San Antonio. Wasn't too bad, a fairly small cell that was angry in it's own right. Blew some stuff around, put on a phenomenal light show, and dumped a bunch of wet stuff I hear they call rain on top of everyone during rush hour traffic. It didn't last very long, but the worst of it for San Antonio will come tomorrow. Hopefully. I am not looking forward to that pile of paperwork I didn't even look at today, and if I can use this storm as an excuse, well, so be it.

At first I was afraid this hurricane would ruin my weekend, but I've been given the green light, and good times will commence as planned. More on that later. In the meantime, I'm just enjoying the cool breeze we're being treated to.

Killing Time

Can you say...SLOW DAY?

First, I woke up late, which really isn't any big surprise because I ALWAYS wake up late. Except this morning it was exceptionally late. So I called in to act like I was going to be later than normal because I was getting a gift for a coworkers baby shower today at lunch, and asked if anyone needed me to pick up anything for the shower. See? How resourceful am I? Anyway, the shower is kind of sucking the productivity right out of the day. I mean, I couldn't accomplish anything before the shower because there were preparations to be made, and now I can't accomplish anything because I don't want to. Ugh.

Meanwhile, back in the bat cave, everyone is apparently freaking out of this strong wind that's going to come through here, otherwise known as DOLLY. My financial dude even wanted to cancel my meeting with him tomorrow because the weather is supposed to be nasty. Seriously people? Is the weather business getting THAT boring you have to get all excited about some high winds that BARELY made it to hurricane status? Works for me, I'm currently angling to close the office tomorrow so that we can all work from home. Which probably wouldn't be a whole lot different than what I'm working on from here, except at home I can do it in my underwear while drinking liquor and catching up on the Young and the Restless. WAY more fun.

What else, what else...that's pretty much it. Actually, there's lots of stuff I could talk about, but not really because it's work related and I don't know who reads this blog, and don't want to go and get myself fired or something equally stupid. But when I think about it, the fact that I'm blogging at work about how I don't do anything at work could also get me fired.. On the other hand, me blogging at work is not nearly the inter-office secret that the other things I could talk about are.....

I love the websites on this website. Some of the furniture they have is amazing. Expensive, but really cool. Stuff I'd love to decorate my own house with. If I had a G to drop on a step stool. If you want to kill some time, those websites can help you do it.

I will also leave you with a video that was sent to me, and I forwarded it on to others. Because that's what I'm all about. Sharing. Paying it forward. Benefiting mankind...*cough, cough....Sorry, I think I just shot Diet Coke out of my nose... Regardless, watch the video.


Lack of Blog Tonight

I fully intended on sitting down and having a meaningful blog moment. Right up until I pulled my glasses off and took a good look at the caterpillar that is stuck to my forehead right where my eye brows used to be. Since I've been wearing my glasses, thanks to the Great Eye Boycott of 2008, the frames shield my normally bare eye features and I was unable to notice how rowdy things had gotten. So instead, the blogging for this evening has been put on hold as I attack my face with a brow brush and tweezers. And it looks like I'm in for the long haul, because I've been hacking away for about 45 minutes, and I still have one more to go. Awesome.


Sunday Bloody Sunday

Alright, I know it's more than a little cliche, but I couldn't get that song out of my head once I thought it, so now I make you all suffer...Mwah ha ha ha..ha......ha.....

Anyway, yeah, today's Sunday. I posted earlier, all sadness and gloom and ick, but I'm feeling much better now. My Smoodge is home where she belongs, and my apartment is mostly clean. I say mostly and not all the way because the vacuum cleaner is now making a nest for itself in the dumpster, and once it broke, my cleaning rhythm was disrupted, and I found it hard to get myself back in the groove. Does that happen to anyone else? You start a task, get trucking along, really in the groove, and some random thing happens and you find yourself with the perfect excuse to lay on the couch watching some random movie? Anyone? No? Just me? Okay, never mind then. But the apartment is mostly clean. The only thing I have to finish is laundry. And okay, maybe the bathroom could use a little bit of cleaning. And obviously the hallway and the bedroom still need to be vacuumed. Oh, and now there's some dishes in the sink from dinner. And my desk still needs to be organized and windexed (glass top). And The Smoodge's toys need to be picked up. But other than that, mostly clean.....

I also watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for the first time ever today. Apparently there is also a Willa Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, but I have not seen that. I have only seen the Charlie one. I also did a bit of wikipedia-ing on the subject, not wanting to embarrass myself too much on the subject (too late), and discovered that it was actually a book by Roald Dahl. I'll get back to this in a minute. First, I want to say that all those children, every last one of them, got on my very last nerve. I would have had a very hard time not holding them under that supposedly very hot chocolate river until they had stopped kicking. And what scares me the most? I KNOW SOME OF THOSE KIDS. I'm actually related to a couple of them. I know, that Charlie kid is supposed to be a good kid and all, but seriously. That little kiss ass. Who does that? Second, Willie Wonka looked a little bit like a pedophile. Scratch that, he looked A LOT like a pedophile. Actually, he looked a bit like what Michael Jackson would look like if he still had a nose. And wore a top hat. See? Pedophile. Third, Violet's mother is totally into nose candy. You know she is. Come on! Those crazy eyes, skinny, always going going going? You know she was totally sneaking away to do a rail off the toilet seat. Best part of the whole movie? When the puppet show caught on fire. THAT was hilarious. I almost coughed up a lung. Second best part? The puppet infirmary later on the flick. That was reference hilarious.

Okay, now back to the book part. So the book, when it was first introduced, had the Oompa Loompa's as dark skinned and skinny African pygmies who worked for cacao beans. But then there was outrage by the NAACP and a few other folk because they claimed it was racist, and it was changed so that the Oompa Loompa's (that is a weird word to type, btw) were described as having long golden brown hair and rosy white skin. Is it just me, or is that just about the stupidest thing you've ever heard? Who is this racist against? Oompa Loompa's? And why on earth would it be racist? Are Oompa Loompa's a real race? And why is it not okay for them to be dark skinned, skinny, and from Africa, but perfectly acceptable for them to match a caucasian stereo-type?

In re-reading that, I realize that some of you may think I'm sitting here typing this wearing a white bed sheet and a pointy hat, and I'll have you know that's simply not true. It's a blue bed sheet, and I don't have a pointy hat. Kidding, kidding. Take that last paragraph however you want, it doesn't matter much to me. To be honest, I don't care where Oompa Loompa's come from. And I could get into this whole long diatribe about how I think certain group's just like to get their panties in a bunch for public viewing just so they can be covered by the media, but the media does a WAY better job at that than I do, so feel free to tune into CNN. As for me and my Oompa opinion, we're going to take a shower, and then we're off to bed.

Sad Sunday

I am inexplicably sad this morning, I miss my Smoodge. I just dropped her off with her father, and get to face another day without her smiling face. It's absolutely amazing to me how much she has wormed her little way into every detail of my life, completely changing the person I used to be.

So with that, I'm sad. I've got to keep myself busy today to avoid heading into that lovely full on depression I seem to be prone to. You know, the one where all I can focus on is how lonely I am, how far away my family is, how hard this is by myself, yadda yadda yadda... So I have to resist the urge to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over my face. Gotta keep busy. Guess this would be a good time to clean, huh? Nothing like depression inspired cleaning. It will either be the best cleaning ever, or the most half-assed job I've ever done. Bets, anyone?


Let's Get One Thing Straight

So, okay. How do I start this? It's kind of random, but it bothers me EVERY stinking time I see it. Because it's a ruination (and yes, dammit, that's a word) of innocence. And funnily enough, it's a CONSTANT ruination of innocence by someone who used to capitalize like a mo-fo on innocencism (also a word). She had that shit down to an ART. And yet on her blog, every day, all the time, ALL THE TIME, I see it. The ruination of innocencism.


*breathing heavily through nostrils in disgust with pursed lips while glaring*

When I was in middle school for chrissakes, (YOU HEAR ME? MIDDLE SCHOOL), I tried to come up with something that would define me for my very first email address. All my other friends had cool email names like...oh i don't know, I can't remember that far back, but just know that they were cool and I was under a lot of pressure. You can't work too hard in getting that email address just right. It sticks with you forever (apparently, as I have learned...I was wise for a middle schooler, but I digress). Anyway, I agonized over what name to go with. It had to be the perfect blend of not getting made fun of. So I went simple. I picked my initials. MJR. And the instrument I played in band. FLT. Flute.


See the difference? MJRFLT is NOT the same as MJRFLRT. Get it? Do you get it?

Okay, I'm okay now. I'm just saying. I'm sensitive about it, get off my nuts. Because out of all the things in my life that I didn't do for attention, THIS WAS ONE OF THEM! And there is only like three. So please don't take this away from me. Please?

And if you don't, then I will spread internet rumors that catkins is not related to your name at all, but is because you speak in a high pitched baby voice all the time and love all things that are cuddly-wuddly and refer to yourself not only as catkins, but mommykins and have also used terms like kissy-poo. And you wear guady red lipstick WAY outside the lip lines. And blue eye shadow...yeah, blue eye shadow. And you suffer from TBHS. AND you have cankles.

I'll do it.

*side bar-this post was written with nothing but love and affection. the person i am referring to in the blog and I go way back...well, apparently not middle school way back, because then she'd know the story behind the mjrflt thing, and i wouldn't be having this break down at work over it, but whatever, the point is, she knows i gots nuthin' but luv for her. and if she doesn't, then she should, because she should definitely know me well enough to know that if i really WAS angry about the above, then i wouldn't have said anything, i would have simply forked her yard...or put visine in her coffee.... :)