floccinaucinihilipilification

You got some 'splainin' to do

2011-05-16T00:11:00.001-05:00

Sunday night. The time is currently 2357. Or 11:57pm. Whichever floats your boat.

Normally...well...normally as in for the last two months exactly....this would not be a big deal. The being awake on a Sunday night at 2359 (11:59pm). Why?

Because I was unemployed.

My Monday mornings consisted of rolling out of bed with just enough time to pee, rub that crusty shit out of my eyes, put on pants, get the monkey ready for school, and roll out. Like a boss. Or baws. Whichever.

But this Monday morning? The one that's happening directly?

I gots me a job.

So why is it that it's 0002, and I'm awake? And not just awake. But flogging.

Oh holy hell my phone just corrected blogging to flogging.

Some parallels there maybe? Methinks yes.

Anyway. Blogging. From my phone even.

Because I can't sleeeeeeeep!

I'm not excited. No really. I'm not. I don't know what I'm walking into, why would I be excited? And I'm not nervous for the same reason.

Here's what I know:
I am going to be kick ass at this job.

Truth.

But still...I'm awake. Blogging from my phone. In my bed. While the monkey snores next to me.

*sigh

Now where did mommy put her special pills....

I....you....it's.... Huh.

2011-05-13T14:40:00.000-05:00

**Back story: the monkey was on the phone with her father, and mentioned that her Grandpa Larry had died, and was in Heaven with Jesus. The following is the text exchange between him and I after the phone call ended**

Ex: Did someone die? She said "papa and Lilly went to Jesus"

Me: Grandpa Larry. He died of cancer the day after Easter

Ex: I'm sorry to hear that. My condolences. Is she handling the loss okay?

Me: It's hard for her to understand. It's not tangible for her. So she talks about it on occasion. His picture is on my desk in the office, and she saw it while on the phone with you and thought she would bring it up.

Ex: Thanks for the info. I wanted to be able to speak with her if she did ask questions. Again, my condolences.

Me: We tell her he isn't sick any more because he's in Heaven with Jesus. Same with a bunny that died at her daycare. Miss Carol's bunny if it comes up as well. Generally it's always brought up on the same conversation

Me: And now Grandpa Larry takes care of the bunny in Heaven

**This is where it gets weird**

Ex: Was there a duck also?

*crickets chirping

Me: Um. Not that I have heard...But sometimes she says her (invisible) baby chicken is dead...

Ex: Okay, maybe that was it. She told me all about it being on the side of the road by your house and then with Jesus. She said the stuffed animal, chick in the egg, you sent with her last time was to replace the dead one.

Me: I am cracking up right now. I have no idea what that is supposed to mean...she got the baby chick in an egg for Easter... I think maybe she's just putting random thoughts together. She's quite the little story teller.

So there you have it. From dead cousins to dead chickens in one simple text exchange.

Also? This is the most I have talked to the ex in text....well....ever?

So glad it could be about this.

Who's the Chuck Norris of gardening now?

2011-05-08T00:59:00.000-05:00

Sprouts! People! We have sprouts!

I've been keeping my unemployed self busy the last week or so painting my office and getting it usable, which is another post in and of itself.

But first? To quell the nay saying cries of "NO PICTURES NO HAPPEN."

On Saturday? No. Today is Saturday. Or yesterday. Whatever. Not Saturday. Guess it would have been Thursday? Sure, we'll go with Thursday.

*Thursday* as I was breaking down my make shift office to move it into the actual office, I had to move my pellets of nothingness. And after having spent two months of love and labor to get those little shit seeds to sprout and gotten nothing...NOTHING...in return, I had resigned myself to tossing all 72 pellets of wasted energy into the trash. I had a moment of silence for all the vegetable death that had occurred, and carried my starter tray outside to chunk that bitch in the trash.

And then? The sun hit something inside the plastic cover just right. Was that a hint of green I see?

I pop the lid, and sure enough! A tiny little sad looking sprout! A sprout, I say!

See that little guy? He's going to be a big strong cherry tomato plant when he gets older.

So I glance over the rest of the tray, and I see this:

A tiny little sprout of Swiss Chard! (what *IS* that? seriously.)

And upon further inspection? I see this:

Now, I'm not 100% sure what this little guy is gonna be when he grows up. He'll either be cilantro or green peppers. I'll know for sure when he gets bigger, but right now he's in that awkward phase where if he were a human fetus, he'd be a jelly bean.

So in a matter of seconds, that tray went from trash to the uterus of my garden. And it was saved. And all was right with the world. Pro-life folks should love that little comparison. Bumper sticker galore.

I left the tray sitting on the ledge of the future garden. I haven't checked on it since yesterday, so I don't know if any other little buddies have popped up. I'm hoping the warm sun will help incubate my other friends...errrr...my vegetables into sprouts as well.

So far I'm 3 for 72, and I'm hoping to improve my odds.

In related news, I have three baskets of strawberries that are popping like ker-azy.

I'm actually surprised I've got fruit already coming through. Hopefully in the next week or so they'll get nice and red so Monkey can pick them. She is such a huge fan of gardening that it'll be a shame if she can't see some results before she takes off for Texas for two months.

*Panic attack*

ANYWAY. So picture proof of gardening success y'all. Guess it did happen, huh? WHAT'S UP NOW?

Ahem *cough, cough

2011-04-26T21:35:00.000-05:00

Yes, yes, I'm still here. I just do not have anything to talk about.

No seriously. Let's go through the checklist, shall we?

Job front - still unemployed. check.
Garden - still not growing. not even a little bit. check.
Running - haven't been since the last race. check.
Weather - still cold and crappy. check.

So yeah, you know. Lots of good stuff rockin' over here.

Monkey leaves for Texas in a few days, so there's that.

I am totally not winning lately, gah.

Blank spots

2011-04-21T23:05:00.000-05:00

There aren't really many words in my head right now, just a lot of pain.

Usually I love Easter. No seriously. I haven't really thought about it until just now, but I would have to say it's probably my favorite holiday.

But this year it's different.

I can't really say all I'm feeling. Not because I don't want to, but because I literally don't know how to put into words the emotions.

I've been praying and reading a lot of Scripture. Sometimes I'm afraid that maybe my prayers to take away the pain is what brought us to this point. Mostly I hope that it's bringing comfort where it's needed.

And I wish I could do more.

Jesus replied, "You do not realise now what I am doing, but later you will understand." John 13:7

It's not pot. Probably.

2011-04-20T11:11:00.000-05:00

Two weeks. It's been two weeks since I planted the first seeds. And do I have sprouts?

No. No I do not.

So I've decided to change directions a bit.

See, in Texas, tomato and cucumber plants, even strawberries, are flourishing and flowering. Here in Misery, we are still in 40 degree weather.

This is foreign to me.

Also foreign? The tornado drill (OMG I HOPE ITS A DRILL) that is happening right now. Sirens and all. I am writing this and resisting the urge to cower in the fetal position in my basement.

Basements are also foreign to me.

But back to the plants.

I was telling my grandmother that none of my seeds had sprouted. She asked where I had them. I said outside. She said duh. Not really, but she could have. Basically, the weather here is still too arctic for anything to be motivated to sprout. And understandably so. I have a hard time getting out from under my covers in the morning. Basically my veggies and I are a bit of the same.

So I've brought them inside and put a light on them, per Grandma's advice.

Yes, they are on my desk. That's the only place I really have an adjustable light! They are sitting on top of my printer, safely covered with an old towel. And because I realize the light is stronger on one side, I'm turning it every 12 hours.

If this doesn't work? I'm gonna be pissed.

Great. Now I'm going to die of Lyme Disease

2011-04-20T00:07:00.000-05:00

** I actually wrote this on the 16th, which was...I dunno, awhile ago? Just in case you care **

Since moving to this wonderful state of Misery, we seem to have suffered through more plagues than at any other time in my life.

First came the lice.

Oh sweet Jesus, the lice.

I've never dealt with lice before. Managed to live my whole entire existence on this planet without being attacked by tiny little head bugs. But we moved here, and BAM! The Monkey gets lice. And of course, since she had lice, *I* got lice. And then my niece. And my sister.

In case you're unaware, the Monkey has looong hair, down to her cute little butt. And it's the most beautiful color and texture. Which most of the time? Is awesome. When you add lice to the mix, you pretty much want to die. Not her so much. ME. First doing the trial and error of what crap actually works, each trial taking any where from 4 hours to 2 days. Then once you find something that works, you spend the next two weeks combing out hair with tiny little combs that serve two purposes. One: to comb all the nits and nastiness out. Two: to completely break every strand of hair on your head. So it's awesome in all kinds of ways.

That's my sister and I, doing the lice tango on my head. So. Much. Fun. Seriously. Let's never ever do that again, mkay?

Here's something you should know about me. I require vision assistance. Glasses. Contacts. Whatever. Most recently? Been rocking the glasses. My contacts were bothering me so...you know what? Not important. What is important is that I've been wearing my glasses of late.

Which brings us to today. When I shower, obviously the glasses come off. I don't know why, but generally I take my glasses off before I get undressed to get into the shower. So when I took off my pants this evening, I saw a dark little thing on my leg, and ASSUMED it was lint from my jeans.

You know what happens when you assume, right? Gah.

I get into the shower, start the ritual, and get to the part where I shave my legs. Generally this is not something I do on a regular basis. Mostly out of laziness. Why do I need to shave when 1) it's four freakin' degrees outside and I need all the help I can get keeping warm, and 2) who exactly is it that I am shaving for? The four year old? Doubtful. Plus I have the added benefit of leg hair that grows in a new direction every two square inches, so shaving is a little bit like navigating Pacman through a game of...well...Pacman.

Anyway, leg shaving. The little dark thing is still there. Except now that I am bent over to shave, so I am closer to the dark thing. And it doesn't look fuzzy like lint would. It's more.. a ball. For a brief moment, I think maybe I had scratched my leg and that was blood that had hardened into some sort of weird statue. It happens. Except this was kind of large. Also? When I ran my hand across it, IT DIDN'T FEEL LIKE A CLUMP OF BLOOD. It was kind of...smooth...and...rubbery? I dunno, just didn't feel right.

So I flicked it.

Anyone experienced in tick-ology knows that those suckers bury themselves in deep. And flicking wouldn't generally have worked. And if it did work, only the body would come out, but the head would still be stuck in there. Of all the stories I've heard about ticks and not dying and you can squish the body but the head will grow it back and you can't kill the head because it's made to be flat and slice-y so it can get into you in the first place, I have no idea which ones are true. Before, it never mattered. BECAUSE I NEVER HAD A TICK BEFORE. And I'm sorry, I'm not going to go on an internet tick crusade to hear the horror stories to figure out which ones are true.

But the tick that I flicked came out. (I'm sorry, am I channeling Dr. Seuss?) And landed on the bathroom wall. Only I still didn't realize it was a tick at this point. So I get down on my butt ass naked hands and knees in the shower to gander at that thing I just popped off my leg.

And yeah. It's a tick. *shivers

I don't know if it was coming up for air (do they even do that?) at the exact moment I was flicking or what, but all of it popped out. Thankfully. So I scooped it into one of the Monkey's cups she keeps in the shower (sorry, kiddo!), and flushed that bad boy down the toilet. Twice.

Then I went into a full on TSA search of the rest of my body to make sure it didn't bring any of his buddies along for the free meal. And prayed like crazy that I wouldn't find one because how on earth was I going to get it out of my hair or other body parts I couldn't access as easily and OH MY GOD they record 911 calls and this one would make the news.

I didn't find any more, by the way.

Between the lice, the tick, and the snowpacolypse, I'm reading you loud and clear, Misery. And believe me, I don't want to be here any more than you want me. Also? I super appreciate giving me one day of 80 degree weather before shoving low 30's down my throat. That's the best. Thanks for that.

But maybe we can call a truce and you can call off your passive aggressive attempts to kill me and I'll stop bashing you on a daily basis. Like probably cut it back to once a week or so.

After all, we do have at least 6 and a half more years together. :-/

Rainin' Rainin'

2011-04-15T11:08:00.000-05:00

There is something so serenely beautiful about a yard bursting with growth, blanketed in rain.

Makes me want to sit on my back porch (that has a tin roof, EVEN BETTER), cuddled with a blanket and a good book. Sadly, I have neither chair to sit in out there nor the book currently, so desk chair inside and blog reading/facebooking/job hunting will have to suffice.

Also? I know I need to mow. Guess what was on the agenda for today? Apparently the storms we have been having since last night had other ideas.

The little patch of flowers the Monkey and her cousin planted are flourishing. So much so that the yellow/green snapdragons that were planted without blooms have opened up during this rain to show their neon face.

Those are by far my favorite. I love green. I'm not gonna lie, even though the flowers were the girls project, I selected those.

Seed update: Nope. Nada. Nothing. I'm afraid we may have to admit defeat. Which suuuuuuuuuuucks.

My brain. It's gone. And I miss it. Wait. What was I doing here?

2011-04-13T13:48:00.000-05:00

Get Monkey ready for shower.

Notice Monkey needs her nails clipped after shower.

Think to myself I need to go into dining room and get clippers, which are on my desk.

Get Monkey settled in shower, washing hair, etc.

Leave Monkey in bathroom to go into dining room to get clippers, located on my desk.

Walk 25 to 30 feet to dining room, specifically to desk.

Turn on light on desk to facilitate finding clippers.

Notice post it notes in middle of desk instead of in its proper place under the monitor.

Note the name and phone number on top post it of potential interview.

Remove top post it and stick to computer in highly visible place so I don't forget to return the call during business hours.

Move remaining post its to appropriate place.

Straighten a few other askew items.

Turn off light on desk.

Walk back into the bathroom.

Finish bathing the Monkey.

Go to clip Monkey's nails.

Wonder what the hell I did with the clippers.

Realize I never got the clippers.

Wonder where exactly I left my brain and how do I get it back.

This happens to me all. the. time.

Rookie

2011-04-13T00:07:00.000-05:00

First, let's get this post started with a shout out to the BFF and her new blog. You can find it here. If you care. And if you do visit, make sure you leave some inappropriate comment. She appreciates those. A lot. And while I realize it's a little lacking now, once she figures out how to stop being blog 'retarted', I promise, it will pick up steam.

At least that's what we are telling her. SHHHHH.

Annnywho, back to what's important here: Me and my (temporarily) pitiful garden. Only slight progress was made today, because, as with most of the projects I undertake, I *severely* underestimated the amount of crap I was going to have to do to get this ready.

Let's be honest, shall we? I totally thought I was going to be able to go outside, scrape off some weeds and grass and unruly ivy to reveal a garden bed just aching to birth vegetables from it's soil-y loins.

Realistically? This is going to be the death of me.

I now realize that the dirt in the bottom portion of the garden is unusable for veggie procreation. This is unfortunate. Mostly for me. What that means is that I'm going to have to dig out roughly 6 inches of that dirt and replace it with much better soil. That contains blood from my first born, an old priest and a new priest....wait...that's not right...

Point is, I gots to do some diggin'. A crap ton of digging, if you will. And where will that dug up dirt go? I'm working on that part, but where it's at ain't workin' for no one.

Well. Maybe the worms. *shudder

I finished hoeing (bahahahahaha....still. funny.) the middle garden area, and took the shovel to it to turn the dirt. I'm thinking what's in there will be okay once it's supplemented with some fertilized soil on top.

Yes. I realize that looks exactly the same as the other ones. Unless you are paying attention. Then you will notice that the middle garden is free of miscellaneous green stuff. It's all about subtleties, people.

Now. See that top area? With ALL the green ivy stuff? That's next. Probably. I don't mind the ivy being there, in fact, I probably won't really trim it back. What I'm concerned about is all the weedy stuff underneath it. And how I'm going to attempt to tack that crap back so I can get the weedy stuff out. I need at least a foot of room there to get the pumpkins and watermelon in.

I did also mention all that dirt that has to be removed, right? Just take a moment and soak that in.

Right. So, I picked up some strawberry plants today from Richmond. See?

They are second or third or twelfth generation plants that were started by my go-to master gardener, who also happens to be a member of my family. She pulled them from her garden, so basically if they fail? My fault. No pressure though.

I am still deciding whether or not I want to leave one of the pots as is. The white ones are the kind that have the holes in the sides for growing strawberries in, and I kinda wanna see if they really can flourish in there. I've always heard/read mixed reviews when it comes to having a hanging basket of either strawberries or tomatoes, so I'm a little curious.

Today is also day 7 after planting the first batch of seeds. Which means some of them should have sprouted. And when I checked, this is what I saw:

See the sprouts?

Yeah. Me either. Failing already. We are sooo off to a great start.

Free time. As in, I have too much of it.

2011-04-12T10:00:00.001-05:00

Through a very detailed, regimented morning routine on the internet, which consisted mostly clicking on whatever link looked interesting, I found myself looking at the social security administrations website of baby names. Out of curiosity, I figured I'd take a gander at where the Monkey fell into play for the year she was born.

915 out of a thousand.

Nine hundred and fifteenth...

Now, obviously when you name your kid you go with something interesting and unique in your little mind. But to dump my kids name at almost the end of the list? So basically it's me and that mother in Boognockistonia that speaks in clicks and whistles. Awesome. You know what was higher on the list than the Monkey's name?

Genesis.

Ximena.

Dayanara.

Monserrat.

What the french toast, people. My kid does not have an extraordinarily unique name. To know that there were more girls born in the United States of freaking America named *MONSERRAT* than the Monkey's name....well....I'm not really sure how that makes me feel. Also? Apparently the year she was born was also the last year anyone wanted to name their kid that.

No matter what I do, I guess I will always be the black sheep. And now I've passed that onto my kid. Awesome.

Ximena? REALLY?

Extraneous Gardening

2011-04-11T23:30:00.000-05:00

Today I made absolutely no progress what so ever on the vegetable garden. It is what it is. I've moved on from it, so should you.

Instead I finished clearing out the area I planted a few rose bushes in. I had put them into the ground this weekend, clearing out only the spots I intended to put the flowers into. Today I went ahead and cleared the remaining area. Mostly.

As you can see, they are pathetic little knobby things that have a lot of growing to do. There is also a pile of leaves and weeds waiting to be put into trash bags as well, but we're not going to focus on that at the moment. The one on the far left is a red tea rose bush, hand picked by the magnificent Monkey herself. The middle one will be a red and yellow blush rose bush, and then the one on the right are my yellow (tea) roses of Texas :) I'm really hopeful they take root and flourish there. They will get full sun until probably 1 or so, and then the sun will be blocked by the ladis. For reference, the vegetable garden is being put in on the other side of that.

Then the Monkey, my niece, and I loaded up into the car and went to the hardware store to grab a few flowers to put in another bed. I thought it would be a fun way for the girls to put together their own little area that is a little more immediately satisfying.

They didn't put in the bushy things, or the tree. Or the rocks. Just the flowers. And they were such good little helpers. Cleared out all the sticks, then carried the sticks to their designated pile, then shoveled all the weeds and what not into a trash bag for disposal. They carefully picked each spot all 16 of the flowers went into. I have absolutely no idea what they all are. Wait. Not true. The pink ones in the middle and the yellow ones that will bloom in the front will be snap dragons. The rest I have no idea of. The stick labels are still outside somewhere, I guess I should probably go figure that out, huh?

Anyway, tomorrow will resume with the vegetable garden. Also? Tomorrow is the seventh day after I planted the first batch of seeds. I not even a little bit concerned that I haven't seen a single one of those little shits poke up through the dirt. At all.

Out of curiosity, when is too soon to panic? Is now?

How about now?

Garden Master, Part 2

2011-04-10T21:30:00.000-05:00

Because I am one of those people that gets on a kick about something and works the bloody hell out of it, of course I was back outside today diligently slaving over my potential gardening area. Here's a daylight pic of the spot with yesterday's progress:

I spent some time last night figuring up where I'm going to put everything. Oh, and I also measured the bottom portion of the garden to so that I could accurately plan plant locations. Turns out I was a bit off. It's actually 12 x 6 on the bottom, 10 x 2.5 in that lower flower bed area, and I have no idea on the top, but the goal is to get at least a foot of width along there to plant the larger ones.

Assuming I can do that (oh I am going to do that), then I'll have the pumpkins and watermelons up in the top area. This way as they start to grow larger, I can move the actual fruit onto the ledge and keep a better eye on them. The cilantro, swiss chard (still don't know what this is), carrots, and peas will go into that middle flower bed area. I am assuming 2 sq ft for each of those will be enough room, and I'm sure if it's not I'll quickly find out. Plus, again, there is that ledge to maneuver plants that allow for it onto. The bottom portion I'll be able to put the remaining six plants into, six rows two feet wide. Cucumbers against the ladis (so I can train them to grow up it if needed), then a row of big tomato plants, then a row of the small, then green peppers, then the banana peppers, and finally against the wooden timber will be the strawberries. That's everybody right? I think so...

Anyway, today I was able to finish hoeing (HAHAHAHAHA...I'm SORRY, that's STILL funny to me) the rest of the bottom garden, then raked all of the middle and top gardens, and hoed (*snicker) about half of the middle garden. See?

I'm going to need to dig a lot of the dirt out of the bottom garden so I can replace it with better soil and horse poop. Depending on how much comes out with ease, I may or may not have to do some serious weed killing. Hopefully that's stuff I can get done within this next week so the ground has time to marinate in the good stuff (soil and horse poo...not weed killer...) that before I have to start moving plants into it. I should also mention that I'm picking up some strawberry plants on Tuesday that I have no idea what to do with. I mean, eventually they'll go into the ground, but I'm not sure if I can put them into pots until the garden is done or if I basically have to have that side of it finished by Tuesday night.

Guess I should find out, huh?

Just call me... Kung Fu Gardener.

2011-04-09T23:09:00.000-05:00

Not really, I kind of hate that name. I don't even know why I said that.

It's *finally* that time again! The cold weather crap has gone....wait. Please tell me it's gone.... It's gone, right, Missouri? This isn't just you screwing with me again? Because I will cut you.... I am unstable as it is, and I really really can't....

*ahem*

The cold weather crap has gone, and the trees are getting those green things, and the bugs are flying, and the birds are eating stuff, and the cats are picking teams for their late night yowl offs. Also? Time to put in a mutha fruckin' garden.

I've already started the seeds. Already. Like I've been prepping this for months. Actually? Days. I planted some in soil on Tuesday night, and I've done some more today. I'm a little nervous about them taking. I used a starter garden set I purchased last year, along with seeds that I got last year. With the exception of today's plantings, it's all about a year old. There's no reason why it shouldn't work, right? *fingers crossed.

Tuesday I planted the seeds for quite a bit. Carrots, big tomatoes, cucumbers, banana peppers, swiss chard (I don't even know what that is), watermelon, pumpkin, and little tomatoes. And every. single. day. I check...usually two or three or twelve times...to see if anything has sprouted. Obviously? Nothing has. I know that. I'm not even worried about it not working yet. But does that stop me from checking? Nope. It's like I'm hoping I can will the plants to grow.

Today at the big garden and lawn center here in Smithville....Dollar General...they had a display for three packs of seeds for $1. Even with the tight budget I'm currently enjoying the hell out of (sarcasm. Sense it?) I could afford that. So I picked up some cilantro, green peppers, and peas and got them planted as well.

I was standing over the dirt admiring my handiwork and...admittedly...using my mental gymnastics to will those things to sprout, when I realized that I have nowhere prepared for when they *do* come up. Yes, there are lots of places here to put them, but it's all overgrown and weedy and dog poopy and littered with whatever crap the last strong wind shoved through. Generally my gardens have been on a much smaller scale. Two tomato plants, two cucumber plants, and I'm a freaking master gardener with a vengeance. So taking an afternoon to throw together a garden has been no biggie.

But 12 different plants with multiple potted and hopefully infused with Charlie Sheen's Tiger Blood to ensure growth and prosperity? Not including the strawberry plants the Monkey and I will pick up in the next few days? That's a special kind of monster that even my master gardening skills is not capable of throwing together in an hour or so.

Now that I realize my weakness, I have taken action. I identified the target area, raked up the nastiness, and began hoeing (hahahahahahaha....ahem) the bits of grass and clover that had dumbly set up shop. I'm not done by any means. This is something that will probably take me a few days or even weeks to complete. Because I am that motivated. And also because it's hard and I'll get tired and need to check facebook or send out resumes or something else equally important. BUT, and this is the important part, I at least can be doing that instead of trying to grow plants with my mind.

And? Since I have nothing else in my life going on that I care to blog about, I figured I could track my progress here! Boom, baby!

Also because the BFF is going to be starting the same process as well, and we figured we could share our adventure this way. You know, since she lives a bazillion miles away and all.

So I give you......waaaaait for it......the first in a series.....ladies and gentlemen.....MY GARDEN:

I should have taken a picture during the day. I know. But I didn't have this idea until tonight, and since I am pretty much the most not patient person ever, I took it and here it is.

It's hard to tell, but it's about 10 x 4, not including that raised area, or the raised area above that. All of it needs to be dug up and fertilized (horse poo galore!) and structured to accommodate the plants. And I still need to figure out what to put where. But in the meantime, as you can tell, there is plenty to do.

I'll be working on it again tomorrow, so I'm sure I'll have another update then. I know. Edge of your seat, right?

BOOBIES!

2011-04-07T15:35:00.000-05:00

This post is not nearly as exciting as the title would lead you to believe, but a little false advertising never hurt anyone. Except the guy that came here looking for porn. Yeah. You. We see you. And we are staring, judging and pointing. The trifecta of shame. So, you know....move along pervert, there's nothing for you to see here.

Where was I?

I've been running a lot of late. Like...the last three months or so. I've done a few 5K's and a four mile whatever you call it, and feel like I'm ready to move into 10K-dom. So now you know that about me.

The other thing you should know? I have big boobs. You know how some people knock stuff over with their over sized asses or their beer guts? Like lamps and small children and such? I do that too, but with my boobs. And since they are boobs and slightly higher, it's taller children. Well...higher when I have the right kind of support... But you know what I mean. One time I was able to fully support a beer bottle, drink from it, and put it back without using my hands at all thanks to those boobs. Sure, I chipped a tooth, but that was more from the excitement in discovering the true meaning of laziness than anything else. It especially came in handy when I was pregnant (OMG THE SIZE OF THEM) and couldn't scoot myself all the way up to the table. I had a table of my own, thank you very much.

Big boobs. Long line of them. I got them from my mother, who got them from her grandmother, who got them from someone who probably took them with her from Europe on a boat large enough to accommodate. So when it comes to needing a sports bra to help strap those bad boys down, I'm not messing around. I need something that will provide the stability of duct tape with the comfort of a fluffy stuffed bunny. Not that I would wear a stuffed bunny as a bra. Well...maybe, but the ears better not cut into my shoulders....

I have two sports bras that are exactly the same. Same brand, same size, same stitching, purchased at the same time, same random person who personally and oh so lovingly inspected them and stuck their personalized number sticker on them. The difference between the two is that one is black, and the other is white.

Oh. And that the white one sucks. A Lot.

I don't understand how that can happen. Same friggin' bra, and yet so very different.

The black one is my favorite. It supports, and slims (they are like support tank top bra whatevers), it does my taxes, and never asks me what's wrong and if I want to talk about it.

The white one? It's pretty much out to destroy me. Every single time I try to run in it, somehow it allows one boob to make its way slyly out the arm hole until it's practically running all by itself. So then I have to turn into a jogging contortionist in order to wrangle that bad boy back into containment.

It's hard enough to remember to breathe, chew gum, keep my legs moving, AND watch where I'm going. That damn white bra expects me to also flip myself inside out just to ensure it's doing the job it was purchased to do.

Negative, ghost rider. That's why I try to always wear the black one.

At least he doesn't smell

2011-03-30T13:39:00.000-05:00

My cat? Kinda has it made. Food regularly delivered to a location only he can access (namely, away from the pig dogs). Run of an old house with lots of hiding places to inspect. Two dogs and a Monkey to harass with his kick ass Kung Fu moves. I even let him sleep pretty much anywhere he wants, be it on the couch (rarely), in Monkey's bed (when she's not in it), my bed, the coffee table (yes, this is actually a favorite post of his), or even in the kitchen window sill (when it's open). He even takes over the dog bed when the mood strikes him.

In general, I leave him alone, he leaves me alone. Which is what made him an appealing as a pet in the first place . Not *him* specifically, but cats in general. Neediness freaks me out, and cats? They do not hesitate to let you know that they don't need you in their lives, and any indication other wise is a damn lie. This system works for us. Yes, there is occasionally snuggling, petting, playing. But it's generally always on his terms. Rarely do I seek him out for a cuddle buddy. It's not like he's neglected. I always punch holes in the boxes I lock him in as punishment.

So why is it, that in the dark of night, as I am laying down to go to sleep, in those few precious silent moments I get to enjoy prior to drifting off into sleepy land, does that ass hat of a cat feel he needs to jump onto my bed, curl himself into a deceptively warm fuzzy ball of happiness, and begin to lick himself clean OVER EVERY SQUARE INCH OF HIS BODY?

Have you ever heard a cat clean itself? It's not the quietest thing ever. That sand paper tongue running against the grain of a thousand little cat hairs in the dark of night somehow has the decibel equivalency of shattering concrete with a jack hammer. And he chews his nails. HE CHEWS HIS NAILS. What...who....WHY?

I'm not a fan of listening to animals clean themselves. I make the dogs do it in the other room. It's gross. Especially when they clean their...ahem...you know....business. It's...well....I'm not going to get into a lot of detail here. It's too gross, and gives me the heeby-jeebies. There are some things even *I* won't describe in detail. But you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.

There are 23 and a half other hours in the day he could have taken care of his personal hygiene. Why must he do it at that EXACT moment? On my bed? Next to my EAR? EVERY. SINGLE. BLASTED. NIGHT.

He keeps it up and I'll stop punching air holes in the damn boxes.

I pretty much hate everyone.

2011-03-29T23:01:00.000-05:00

I don't...forgive well. I can hold a grudge like a champ. And no, I'm not listing my good qualities. I know these suck, and I should stop it. But you know what? That's easier said than done when you're a hermit. Because all I have are my thoughts all the time non stop. And when you are swimming through a depression, the likes of which haven't been seen in a long time, those thoughts? Not necessarily rainbows and kitties. Even in the good times, I'm not a rainbows and kitties type of gal.

So forgiveness? Yeah, I struggle with it. There's a lot of things in my life that I turn to God for, but asking for the strength to be able to forgive others? I'm more than a little soft in that area.

But this? I can totally get into this:

Some things really do never change

2011-03-29T21:56:00.000-05:00

It's been about 4 years now. And since the separation, almost five. You would think that, by now, either something would have changed or I would have caught on that this is the kind of behavior I can expect all. The freaking. Time.

But no. Like banging my head against a concrete wall. Just ONCE I'd like a padded cell instead.

Here's the scenario:

I emailed the ex to let him know that The Monkey has been scheduled for hearing and vision screenings. When the vision folk called me, they asked all kinds of questions about her insurance, whether or not this is covered, does she have this kind of plan, blah blah blah. Questions that I don't have the answer to (that is a *whole* other story, one that I am far too tired to get into at the moment), nor could I obtain them on my own. So we (the vision folk and I) decided that we would go ahead and set the appointment, with the understanding that I would get the answers to the questions and take the appropriate actions.

And we're back to the email to the ex. I asked him, in the email, to provide me with answers to the questions. A day or so later, I received a response. That answered no questions I had asked. Oh sure, there were answers, but to my questions? Nope.

I emailed him again, making my questions more specific, and asking for clarification on the information he provided. And his response? Again, not. answering. my. questions. More information? Yes. Answers to my questions. Nope.

After taking a day or so finding my chi and taking cleansing breaths, I finally emailed him back TELLING him exactly what I needed him to do.

Why didn't I do that from the beginning? Well, because I thought it would be rude. And also? I'm not his mother, baby-sitter, or wife. I should not have to break it down for him in a manner a three year old would understand and then order him to comply.

Annnnnd this is where that first paragraph really comes into play. I should have really learned by now.

So I did. I told him exactly what I needed. I told him exactly what I expected. And I told him exactly when I needed it by.

His response? No closer to the beginning than I was when I started writing this. In fact, his answers were geared towards a belief that if he made this hard enough on me, maybe I would just skip the appointments all together. Since, after all, there is nothing wrong with The Monkey. Ever. At any point in time. Just like all the other times there was nothing wrong with her. Oh, well....except for that time with the gall stones. And the acid reflux. And the genetic disorder. And the developmental delays. And the behavioral issues.

But those times totally don't count.

I *guess* I can understand his point of view. After so many times of being right about it all, odds should be in his favor this time? There actually *IS* nothing wrong with her? Right? That's how Vegas works, why not his daughter.

Her appointment is in two days. This afternoon, I completely gave up on letting the ex "participate" (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....ahem....) that I took matters into my own hands. And I got the resolution I needed. Sure, I had to make some pretty serious threats to a large insurance company, used made up curse words to really confuse them, and it took about 4 hours of my time, but hey! I'm an unemployed single mother! I APPARENTLY HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.

The question I'm asking myself now is this:

In the future, do I just handle business and let him know how it all turned out after?
or
Do I continue to try to get him involved even though I know without a doubt that it is only going to end in confusion and ticked-off-edness?

Gah. Exes. Can't live with 'em, still illegal to shoot 'em. I would know. I check regularly.

Insomno-maniac

2011-03-27T23:38:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure that's not a word, but whatever. It's late, I'm the only one reading this, and you're not the boss of me.

It's been several weeks now. With the insomnia. Ever since things got rocky at work. Well that's vague as hell. Since things got REALLY rocky at work. Not the usual rockiness of my boss being about as stable as the tectonic plates surrounding Japan. A new kind that I was familiarly unfamiliar with. I'd seen it happen to others, but it was never displayed towards me. Until several weeks ago.

Familiarly unfamiliar. That sounds like a legit phrase until you type it, read what you have typed, and then you feel like you have lost your damn mind and swallowed your tongue. But I digress.

Rocky at work, and the stress began. Worrying about what this meant, and what that action could mean, and why would she say that, and all the while, do they know that I know?

Losing that job wasn't stressful. At all. Being in that job was stressful. Working with *those* people was stressful. The stress came from the potential unemployment. Now the realized unemployment. Sure, I've been unemployed before, but never with so much on the line. I look back and think, I should have saved more, I should NOT have purchased that, etc blah. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Bottom line? DIDN'T.

I have insomnia because I don't want to go to sleep. Because I survived today. I know I survived today. And if I go to sleep, then tomorrow comes. And I don't know that I can survive what tomorrow brings.

Isn't that just about the stupidest thing you've ever heard? Rationally, I know that whether or not I go to bed, tomorrow is coming with all it's ugly surprises and invasive expectations. Irrationally, I convince myself that by staying up all night stalking people on facebook and their blogs and craigslist (oh my holy hell I can kill some time on craigslist) and news websites and the list goes on and on (however, if you have suggestions, I will totally take them) then I won't have to face whatever tomorrow brings.

Yes, I realize that tomorrow might be wonderful, and that I might get the job of my dreams that, oh by the way, pays me the paycheck of my dreams. Or I find a lottery ticket that just so happens to have the mega-gazillions winning number on it (and yes, find, not buy. I may not have saved up for this, but I'm sure as hell bunkering down now). But when your pessimism has brutally raped and killed your optimism, leaving it for dead on the side of the road to be eaten by vultures and hungry hitch-hikers, it's hard to see that silver lining.

So I stay awake until I'm forced to bed. Keeping my defeated self entertained with Hulu or the dumb crap people accidentally text to others. Subliminally terrified that the one time today I laughed might be the last time I get to do that since tomorrow is going to be more brutal that I can stand.

So you know....there's *that*.

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn

2011-03-21T00:37:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure what I'm doing on here.

Not just because of the time frame. I mean, that's an awkward silence in and of itself. Hi, remember me? Yeah, me neither.

I've moved. It's been so long since I've written here I'm not sure if I wrote that I was going to. But I have. And here I am. In a new home, in a new state, a new decade, and newly unemployed. I've picked up some new habits, dropped some old ones. It's like a whole new me.

And honestly? I kind of hate that bitch.

It's almost like I'm back to my post-divorce life and mental state. Everything up in the air, forging new boundaries, making a new path. I did it before, I know I can do it again.

But....why? To what purpose? What was wrong with the way things were? Why did I all of a sudden have this overwhelming need to make drastic changes?

The insomnia is back. Clearly.

I feel like when I posted before, it was because things happened in my life. That I actually had one of those. Topics from life's little cherries or apples or lemons or whatever the hell fruit makes you happy. Now? Well...who honestly wants to hear me ramble on and on about the *AWESOME* time I made in that game of Solitaire this afternoon?

Not. Even. Me.

So maybe this is me trying to pick my world back up. Create my own reality horseshit. Fake it 'til you make it.

Meh. I should have written about running.

Huh.

2010-11-27T02:41:00.000-06:00

Can't believe this thing still works.

Too bad it's 2:14 in the morning. I'd probably have more to say.

Naaaaaaaaah.

Day 80-bazillion of mandatory PTO

2010-02-12T13:08:00.001-06:00

That's right folks. I'm STILL on PTO. But at this point? I don't mind it so much. Do you have any idea how long the human body is capable of laying motionless on a couch? Psh. And y'all say I don't have goals...

Today's the pre-cursor to that so-called holiday that retailers love and consumers get sucked into. Oh yeah, and the day where people get all kissy-faced and stupid. That's right, I just called some of you stupid. Not all the time, but seriously, you know on this one day you are. Deal with it.

What was I talking about? Oh right. So pre-cursor, because the monkey has the valentine's day party at school, which means last night we had to do the cards, which aren't really cards, they are really just ring pops with stickers on it that have her classmates names on them. Candy with a personal touch. Score when you're three.

That's not the point though. The point was that since she has this party today, we had to sign up to bring something. And I signed up for sandwiches. Silly, silly me. At the time, I thought that would be simple. I'd go to some grocery store and pick up a party plate of sorts with sandwiches. They totally sell those, right? So this morning on our way to the daycare (which I was in no hurry to get to because I had no where to be except for couch-laying training) we veered off our normal course to hit up our friendly neighborhood grocery chain.

And this is where the sandwiches are no longer part of the story. Mostly I just wanted to relate we were in the car on the way to daycare this morning for longer than usual. That probably would have been easier to say, huh? And in case you're now committed to the sandwiches part, I couldn't find any damn sandwiches, intead I got those kits of random meat, crackers, and cheeses. Lunch-ables on 'roids, basically.

In the car. Longer than usual. So the monkey had time to engage in some play with whatever random smattering of toys that have managed to breed from her bedroom into my car (do NOT EVEN get me started on that). Today's offspring included a beanie baby tie dye teddy bear (really? tie dye? why hasn't someone put that on the list of things that should be buried in a time capsule and forgotten about? like glitter). So she's talking to the bear, I'm only half paying attention because I'm listening to the Grammy performance of Lady Gaga and Elton John on my ipod (awesomeness) (the performance, not the ipod) (I mean, the ipod's ok, but....ugh, never mind). When suddenly I catch the conversation and realize my daughter is talking about the fake bear pooping.

I'm no child psychologist, but WTF? Is my kid really having the 3 year old conversation equivalent to 'Do bears shit in the woods?' And more importantly, which side of that conversation is SHE on?

Out of curiousity when I got home, I googled 'toddler talking about bear pooping' (you heard the part about me being off work for like the gazillionth day in a row right? okay then, stop judging me) and got this (click on the word 'this.' it don't show up to good with the current layout. guess I should fix that, huh?).

My mind is literally blown. Also, mine should get here between 5-7 business days.

NOT why I live here

2010-02-09T11:22:00.000-06:00

The weather. More specifically, the cold weather. I'm not a fan. Which is why I live in South Texas, where winter generally only lasts a few days/weeks, and we only know its happening because it's cloudy. So when you're telling me we're going to have a crap load of days that are in the 30's, that's no bueno.

So I haven't been running. Externally I'm blaming it on the cold weather. Internally I know it's because I'm a bit depressed. I'm not happy with the way things are going at work, and not knowing where things will stand on Thursday is not helping. And unfortunately, that's really all I can say on that for now. Even though there is BOAT LOADS more. Ugh. Maybe THAT'S why I'm really depressed. Because I have so many things that are being pent up inside of me and I can't even use this as an outlet. Stupid interweb with all your easy accessibility and super defined search engines.

The nice thing about this job change thing though is that it gives me an opportunity to figure out what I want to do in/with my life. I've had plenty of time the last few days to sit and ponder the epic question 'if you could do one job, what would it be?' And you know what my answer is? I DON'T HAVE ONE. There are so many things I want to do, or be, or experience, that I don't have just one job I feel like I can pick over all the others. Sometimes I'm completely inspired by So Mellifluous that I want to go into music therapy. And then other times I'm watching House and think I could completely handle the medical field. Or I read a facebook update by a friend who is directing band at a school and I want to get back into that. Or I go to Sea World and think I should go into marine biology. Could I possibly be more random? Here I am, literally weeks away from starting my life over again, a gift of sorts, and I got nothing. Granted, I only figured out a few days ago that I WAS starting my life over again, but still. Shouldn't I have this figured out already? I'm freaking 29 years old and I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

Well now. That doesn't have anything to do with the weather, now does it?

2010-02-06T23:22:00.001-06:00

I have to be, without any doubt in my mind, the most BORING person ever. I'm here, staring at this blank page, after having a beautiful Saturday during which I would think to myself, 'ooooh, that would be GREAT to blog about.' And now? Nothing. Nuh. Thing. And I'm completely bored with the inane topics I'm trying to force upon the few of you that happen to stumble upon this thing...

Maybe that's the problem. Writing for others instead of myself? Wow. That took a turn I was not expecting. Delving into the inner workings of who do I write for. I've taken a few minutes to toss that around in my head for a second, and I'm not sure that anyone can honestly answer that as anything other than for someone to read their words. So that they can feel like their voice matters, even if it is to some 12 year old boy in the middle of Malaysia. Anyone who says they write on a blog for themselves is full of shit. Send them to me. I'll argue them into submission.

What was I saying? Oh right. BOR-ING. So why bother? Mostly because I'm hoping I'll be inspired. I'm hoping at some point the word vomit will evolve into something of shape rather than the mass ramblings of a crazy person.

Has that happened yet? Nope.

Today was the first day of my five day weekend, so THAT was exciting. Except I think the magnitude of everything that is happening is finally beginning to hit me and my head felt a leeeeettle bit like there were tiny flies inside hammering with tiny metal mallets on my nerve endings. And the back of my eyeballs. AND as exciting as I claim the day to be, we didn't. do. shit. We attempted to, but were promptly thwarted. There is a park that everyone is telling me would be great for pictures, so I loaded up the monkey and the gear and away we went. We get there, and you'll never guess who was snoring like a trucker in the backseat. Despite my best attempts to wake her up, it was not gonna happen. So we drove home. I brushed my hair and put on a bra and pants for nothing. It was a gorgeous day though. It really is a shame we weren't able to shoot a bit. Tomorrow the monkey spends the day with her dad, so no pictures for me.

BUT. That does mean that I can go for a run, which I haven't been able to do for awhile (thank you very much crappy weather). My mileage this week is über low. But I'm not too worried about it at the moment. I had, so far, signed up for two events, and I've cancelled one of them. The other one I'm not sure that I'll be able to do yet. But that all relates to the thing I can't talk about publicly but would really, really, REALLY like to. All in good time, my pretties....aaaaall in good time.

Where was I? Oh right, the running. And in rereading, I've discovered that's all I really had to say, so I can probably delete this part. Will I? Nope.

What else, what else....?

I got nothing. Wait. Where the hell did my spell check go?!

Changes

2010-02-06T00:29:00.002-06:00

The last 48 hours have been a whirlwind of epic proportions. And of all the things there are to tell, and do, and unload about, I'm having a hard time figuring out where to even begin with it all. Or where to (figuratively) go from here.

I'm not entirely comfortable expressing myself about some of the things that are happening because it's not over yet, and to be honest there is really nothing I can write that would or could help the situation at all. So for the time being, the important thing to know is this: I'm rewriting my resume. And I have a mandatory five day weekend in which to do it.

How's that a firebomb of words that just about makes your head want to explode? Oh no wait. That's not your head. That's mine. How the hell am I supposed to update my resume while THAT'S going on?

So I'm just staring at this open document trying to just even figure out what address to put at the top. I thought that maybe by stopping by here for a quick dose of word vomit might help unblock the writer's....block... but not so much. Instead, all the things I'd love to be able to spew could be potentially harmful for events that need to happen in the very near future.

Awe. Some. NOW I have resume writer's block AND blog writer's blog. I'm pretty sure this is the epitome of a FML moment.

Um. Hi.

2010-01-31T15:13:00.002-06:00

To say its been awhile since I last posted would be kinda stupid, because it's been more than 'awhile'. In fact, to be honest, without looking, I couldn't tell you when the last time was. Or what it was about. Probably something insanely boring.

So here I am again, new year and all, trying to decide whether or not to pick this thing back up and what to write about. I got nothing. Buckle your seat belts for some ramblings.

I've started running. Not just to get in shape or lose weight, because, well, that hasn't worked so well for me in the past. So I've set different goals. To participate in a triathlon. I've even registered for my first one. As well as for a 5K, which I see as a good way to measure how I'm doing. Or to thoroughly embarrass myself. Probably more of that last one...

I registered today for The Rookie Tri. You can read about it here if you care. Or if you want to come so you can point and laugh. I'll be the one finishing last. I'm EXTREMELY nervous about it. One, because I see those pictures of all the people who look like they could really use a good burger, and, lets be honest here, I've had more than my fair share. Two, because there are like...transitions and shit. And I don't know how to do those. See, I've never been a runner. Or a biker. Or a swimmer. And now I've signed up for something that is going to make me do all three in a specific order. Smart, huh? I can completely see myself jumping into the water and the race directors being all 'ma'am, the race hasn't started yet...' So, like I said, feel free to come on down for a good point and laugh session. What's that saying? Oh yeah, laughter is the best medicine, and I'm sure watching me try to bungle my way through this is gonna medicate the bejesus out of you.

I also registered for my first 5K. It's in 27 days. I am not at ALL panicking. Never mind that currently I can't run for 30 minutes straight, much less 3.1 miles. But I'm working on it, and hopefully in 27 days I'll at least be able to run the majority of it.

So much drivel, so little ways to make it interesting on a blog.

The monkey is growing like a weed as well. No seriously. She's not a baby anymore. She's like...this...little girl now. That likes dresses, and fixing her hair, and make up, and all that other girly crap I only started doing to myself like....a week ago. Crazy right? She's also got more attitude than she knows what to do with. Her current power play is peeing herself. How awesome is that? She is completely potty trained, even at night, NO DIAPERS EVEN IN THE HOUSE, yet at daycare, it's a non-stop piss-fest. We're working on it though.

Wow. I'm boring myself.

I have other topics. The current ex situation, where he has hired an attorney to modify our divorce decree. The work situation, which is probably something I will have to write abstractly about. And in code. So I don't get fired and all. The love life situation, which is non-existent, so that kinda covers that. Again, all this goes back to how I want this blog to develop, or if it's simply going to be a mass of word vomit.

I'm thinkin' word vomit.

Game On.

2009-10-01T00:07:00.003-05:00

You start to put your life back together. You come back from this incredible darkness, so dark that the light on the other side actually looks appealing. But you don't go towards it. You have responsibilities here, a tiny life that is depending on you and only you. So you pull yourself up. You go from being unemployed to working full time, all the while taking care of this tiny life. You find yourself incredibly lucky with this job, blessed, because they realize that family is important. And you carve a niche for yourself in this company, where they realize what you have to contribute. Probably more than most other people in your life, they realize your potential, your value, and do what they can to help it blossom, all the while allowing you to balance this new life you have. Pretty soon the darkness starts to fade. You start to discover who you are. Not the person you were pretending to be for the majority of your adult life, but the real you. Not long after you realize that the dark days, the truly dark days, are becoming a mere memory, almost one you have to remind yourself actually happened. There are times when it does get cloudy again, but that's all. A shadow. One that is fairly easy to fend off now. You feel strong. And while with this whole parenting alone thing you still aren't completely stable on your feet, you don't feel like a complete failure.

Not yet anyway, she's not a teenager... but I digress...

And then a day like today happens.

From my previous post, you can probably deduce I was up with a sick baby all night. And I was glad to do it. But I am tired. And I'm sure that probably has more to do with any darkness than the actual situation, but its darkness nonetheless. Darkness I feared would happen, but am still caught off guard by.

I got an email from the ex today. And it left me with a bad taste in my mouth at the time. Not because he was rude, because he wasn't, not because even really there was anything out of the ordinary with it. The email started with him asking....no....TELLING me when he was going to have visitation next. Which is not uncommon, so I just brush right past it. And then the next statement was where the bad taste came in.

"Also, Maura's insurance will be changing back to my city insurance."

I'm sure I've mentioned previously about how he cancelled that insurance and put her into a cheap one DAYS after the divorce decree was finalized to save himself a couple hundred bucks. And I have consistently fought him on putting her back on it. To the point of taking him back to court to ask for the court to mandate it. But no. I finally gave up that fight. And now, out of the blue, with nothing to preempt it, he's going to put her back on. Pardon me if I'm a little paranoid, suspicious, whatever you want to call it. But yeah, I am. I was. I even interrupted my BFF's trip in Oregon with family she hasn't seen in 20 years to talk it out with her. To confirm for myself that I wasn't being unnecessarily paranoid, that his actions on this were suspicious. I was going to email him back and ask him why. And to ask him how changing her insurance would affect her pre-existing conditions.

But I hadn't had the chance to do it yet, and wasn't real worried about it, I'd get around to it when I had time. Bad taste mostly gone.

I checked my mail later in the day, and in the midst of the junk mailings and the letter from my former insurance company (another story for another day), I noticed a letter with the return address for an Eric Karl. And immediately in my minds eye I could see the registered mail notice I had gotten a few weeks ago but hadn't had an opportunity to go pick up from the post office. The name on the notice was Eric Karl as well.

Slight twinge. But only because of the registered mail thing. Not because of the email, because I had already worked through my suspicions on that, had a plan of action, and it was no longer an issue.

On closer inspection, Eric Karl is apparently an attorney at law. I immediately started wondering what bills I had outstanding. Thinking this was an attempt to collect a debt I didn't know about, or at the very least to collect the $2500 debt I did know about, but have put on the ex's shoulder because he's the idiot who caused it, I opened the letter. No big deal.

You know how sometimes when you open the mail, one thing will jump out at you above the rest? Even if its buried in a mass gathering of alphabet letters, it just screams at you. Like how some of those words do in the word scrambles. Here's what screamed at me:

"RE: Cause Number XXXXXXX, In the Matter of the Marriage of Mandy and James, and in the Interest of A Child; in the Judicial District Court, Texas"

And that was when the darkness came. I didn't even have to read the rest of the letter to know what it was about. All the pieces fell into place. The suspicion. The strangely calm email. The registered letter. And it got dark. Because now I know what I have always been afraid of, but never thought would actually happen.

He's trying to take her from me.

And so its dark again. But this dark? Its different. This dark isn't despair, or helplessness. This dark? This is rage. This is pure rage.

The anger I had before was because I didn't feel like I had a leg to stand on. I had no defense. I doubted my strength. All I had was my words, and my anger, and I cycled on it. Because that's all I had.

Now?

I hope that son of a bitch has his seat belt buckled.

Late Night Ramblings

2009-09-30T01:24:00.002-05:00

Ahhhh. The life of a single mother.

Currently I'm forcing myself awake because I have a toddler who can't stop vomiting. And by vomit I mean dry heave, because she successfully expelled all the contents of her stomach in the first go round in an impressive impersonation of a shotgun. So now its just the most pathetic and sad attempt at what I can only describe as what a cat looks like trying to dislodge a hair ball every ten minutes or so.

Can I just side bar for a second and say that never ever ever in my life did I ever think it would be useful that my 2 year old can spit on command? I'm not sure where she got it from, and to be honest I wasn't enTIREly thrilled about the idea when she first started to do it. But now? WOW am I glad that I can tell her to spit into the bowl or the toilet and SHE DOES IT. And when she feels the urge to 'spit', she lets me know by pointing to the bowl with one sad little chubby hand and holding her mouth closed with the other. **happy dance in honor of a mommy that doesn't have to clean up vomit off the floor every ten minutes!**

So anyway. Here we are. And by we I mean me. She's resting. Which I know she needs because if her dry heaves are half as painful as they look, it's got to be wearing her out.

You know what the worst part about all of this is? My guilt. Not because I caused this. But because her and I haven't been very nice to each other the last couple of days. She's been...well...two, and I've been the never ending supply of patience. That was sarcasm. On the patience part, not the two part. So to keep myself from losing it with her when she acts like an ass hole, I send her to her room. We've been spending a lot of time doing that back and forth. Because she's every bit as stubborn as I am, and that's not good. And its exhausting. I have no relief. I can't walk away and let her father deal with her. Because he's not here. Nor has he even seen her in the last two weeks (his choice), but that's a whole other post. Regardless, I don't get to say to anyone, WATCH HER SO I CAN PUT A PLASTIC SACK OVER MY HEAD AND SCREAM.

Stand by...time to her to 'spit' again...

Ok. Where were we? Right. Plastic sack over my head. I love my daughter. I really do. But oh my God does she try every last inch of my being. And I was actually complaining about how its really starting to ruin my days to a coworker just yesterday. Because we start off with this little pissing contest. We get up, I get moving, she tells me NO with every request. Go take off your diaper and go potty. NO. Go get your panties. NO. Come here and let me put your clothes on you. NO. Need I go on? (NO) (oh come on, that was kinda funny). And I don't have the time to wait until she gets over standing there with her pouty face telling me no because I have to be at work at some point during the day. So I usually just shut down and manually start doing it without asking. When its time for her to get in the car, if she's saying no, I pick her up and put her in the car, kicking and screaming. All the way into the daycare. And so by the time I'm driving to work, I'm seriously contemplating stopping at the bar down the straight to spend my day there instead. So it puts me in a crappy mood. And so yesterday I was complaining, and I found myself wondering if I even like my own kid. OBVIOUSLY I love her, but like her? Sometimes not so much.

And now look at what's happening. She's laying on a towel on the couch, dry heaving to the point of choking every five to ten minutes, while I'm holding her and stroking her hair and telling her that Mommy's right here. And feeling like a complete tool.

Mark This Date...I'm Using Restraint.

2009-08-28T00:05:00.002-05:00

So I don't do political posting, right? No really, I don't. Which is why all I'm going to say is this.

To all you douche bag politicians out there who think that the REPUBLICANS organized the town hall meetings that all went horribly wrong (in your eyes), guess what? If we had THAT kind of power, you really think your guy would have made it into office?

And I'm done. Thank you, and goodnight.

See? Restraint!

Email Marathon

2009-08-24T00:55:00.004-05:00

***WARNING***

This is going to be a long post. I suggest you go get a beverage. Maybe a snack. And a Xanax. And bring me one.

Being a single mother is hands down the most difficult task ever. You go through things that you could never prepare yourself for in ways that you could never imagine. And that's just you and the kid. Throw a bitter ex husband in the mix and well, the fun never ends. And by fun I mean the overwhelming urge to have the taste of metal from the end of a shot gun in your mouth.

One of the tricks of the single mother trade, unless you're well off, which I am not so much, is juggling finances to make ends meet. I mean, is it the car payment or dinner? Phone or running water? So while the bills get paid, every now and again a situation arises where it may not necessarily be on time. Which brings me to the beginning of this story.

Last month my sister got married. In a location that is 900 miles away from where I currently live. At the first part of the month. Which is not such a good time for me. I mean that's when the bulk of my bills go out. And I was glad I was able to go. But in order to be there, I had to tap into that financial juggling I've gotten so good at.

Surprisingly enough, the only bill that was really going to need to be creatively adjusted was my car payment. So I got on the horn with them, explained to them I was going to need a little flexibility for the next couple months of payments, and we worked out a weekly payment plan. Everyone was happy, everyone understood, and the world was right. A week and a half ago, I was completely caught up on what I owed to the bank on the car. Which is why I was completely surprised to receive this email this past Wednesday:

Mandy

Will you ensure that you are paid up with {the car people}? They keep calling and sending letters asking for the car payment on the Lancer to be made. Last month it was because of partial payment, and this month they say the payment has not been made at all (Due August 15th). The calls started out as courtesy calls and now are demands for payment. Please take care of this matter promptly.

James

I literally had no idea what he was talking about. Soooo, I responded like this:

Not sure what you are talking about. The account is up to date and has been for months.

Because, well, it was caught up. The bank hadn't been calling me, and until these last two months, it hadn't been in the red. And the fact that I was making payments kept it from even being that. So I truly was confused as to what the email was for. Note how the emails up to this point are friendly, casual, not really all that interesting. Here's HIS response:

Mandy,

If by up to date means late then you would be correct. For your convenience I have attached the two most recent copies of the bill sent out by {the bank people}. You were 30 days past due and it was reported to the credit bureau by not paying the mnimum amount you owed for the month of July and you still have yet to pay for the August payment.

Instead of denying it, see that it's taken care of. I am still part owner of the Lancer until you pay it off. As you may remember, the court awarded the Lancer to you as part of the divorce decree. However, they cannot supercede the loan agreement, which, by proxy, means that until you refinance it, or pay it off, the Lancer is still part mine.

James

Can you say tool? Now was that really necessary? I'm thinking no. And it kinda set me off. I mean, I let him talk a lot of shit to me in the interest of keeping things calm for The Monkey. I bend over and take it in the interest of the kid. But this? Really? So I responded:

Dear James,

Gosh. You sound so frustrated. Which is understandable seeing as how your credit is being messed with. I can completely understand though. See, I have this ass hat of an ex husband who does everything he can to get out of paying for his portion of our daughter's medical bills; delay tactics, denial, blah blah blah, yet has plenty of money for new clothes, expensive watches and sunglasses, trips to Hawaii and New York, the list goes on. You know that he even cancelled her dental and vision insurance to save a buck? Despite the fact that she's got a huge under bite that's going to cost quite a pretty penny to fix. And then there's all the genetic issues that could arise. But what does he care right? So long as he can cater to his needs, and believe you me, they are some preeeetty materialistic ones. Its not affecting his credit at all. Instead, I've got, ooooh, probably 10 or so lines of bad medical credit from her bills stemming from his refusal to be held accountable in a timely fashion. And you know, I'm trying, but it just gets hard. I mean, I am a single mother in a one income household. Do I try to pay what I can when I can, including his portion, to keep it off my credit? Do I wait for him to hold up his part of our divorce decree, which in one case is currently a year and a half outstanding? Do I drag his benevolent behind back to court, which is just going to cost me more money, and really isn't going to force him to do anything. And then there's always the option of sending all his emails and delinquencies to his boss and coworkers. Really not anything they are going to do about it, but can you imagine how red his face would be if he knew his fellow employees saw his dirty laundry? *GASP! Decisions, decisions, ya know?

But hey, this isn't about me. This is about you. I'd say if there's only been one time that your credit has been affected by a non-payment, you're doing pretty f-ing good. I'm in a position now financially where I could easily just park the car in a lot somewhere and let it get repossessed. What would that do to your credit James? But just so you're aware, the account is up to date. Due to circumstances that are none of your business, Wells Fargo was completely aware that the July payment was going to be late, and I set up a weekly payment plan with them to get current through the August payment. The July payment was not ever more than 30 days outstanding. But nice try. Since you're so concerned about it, the account has been up to date for at least a week prior to your shitty little email. The only letters that I was getting from them were confirming my weekly payment, and I never once got a phone call. See, I know how to handle my business. And if you don't like how I'm doing it, you can go twist off.

You've mentioned high horses in other emails. Who's up on one now? But thanks for writing. As always its been an experience. You have a great day now, ya hear? Kthxbai!

Now, I realize that for some of you who aren't privy to all the other crap I get put through this is probably a little much. And I'm sure there are some of you out there thinking that its uber important that he and I have a good relationship. To those of you who think that, I say eat crap and die. You haven't walked a mile in my shoes, and just like I'm not sitting here judging you (ok maybe a little, but only because you are actually reading this, not for anything really substantial) for the things you've done in your life, you don't get to judge me for mine. And if you do know me, and all the crap I get to take for this guy, then you're totally cheering right now. Because that email up there? Was a long stinkin' time coming.

But I digress. You want his response? It's priceless. Here we go:

Mandy,

Did that make you feel better?

See there's a difference between credit with banks vs. medical credit and when you are late with those creditors it affects you much more so than it does with medical bills.

I've had to deal with my credit being in the negative. One, I had a partner who would never hold her end up and could never keep a job since everyone else was "out to get her" and then there's this other thing called a divorce where I kept paying all her bills on top of mine, plus child support. Now it's a much different picture, I have a partner who has a good job and helps out with her share.

I believe I have paid all medical bills that have been sent other than the most recent which had to do with the Geneticist where you stated that I should be the one responsible for the whole amount. So if you haven't sent me any other bills that are pending, I can't help that.

What's this about an underbite? First time I've heard of it. I'm not sure why, as a concerned parent, you would one, not tell me about something wrong with Maura, and two, why you would go and get her teeth checked out, knowing she had no insurance. Good job on the communication. Maybe it would be easier if you had a cell phone that sent emails. Oh, wait, you do.

As far as you sending anything to my employer, what is there that they don't know. Let's see, there's the time you tried to get me fired with the "burglary" and then there's Alamo Heights where you tried to get me fired. I passed all my polygraphs, so I don't know what it is you think they don't know. It's kind of laughable that you mention my employer. They ask how things are going about every other week. I've taken enough polygraphs to know I don't lie well so I just tell them the truth. That kinda arrangement works for me.

I'm sorry that you worry so much about the trips I go on and the things I wear, they're really none of your concern. I pay my child support and provide health insurance. I also buy clothes and shoes for Maura as well as anything else she needs when she's with me. As I've said in the past, If you would like to provide additional health insurance or dental insurance or vision insurance there's nothing to stop you, you stated that your financially stable enough, and that being the case then you shouldn't have a problem refinancing the car so I won't get statements or bother you with emails concerning the Lancer.

Anyway, I'd rather be in the right than be clever. Kthxbai!

Now at this point I have a couple of options. I can respond, being my ever cheerful, glib self, or I can stop the madness. But you know what? I'm kinda having fun now. I mean, this is two and a half years of a fight brewing. And the best part? I'm not even angry! No seriously! I mean, he's saying all these things, and for me what it's really boiling down to is who has a better 'yo mama' joke. I can totally see him getting his panties all up in a bunch! And its FANTASTIC! So do I respond, or do I walk away?

YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I RESPONDED! And giggled the whole time, I'll have you know. You can't PAY for this kind of therapy. Here it is:

James,

Thank you for your email. It was everything I'd hoped it to be and more. I really do hope we can keep up this kind of open communication, since, well, it makes you look like a complete and utter douche.

Since you had your little last stance about rather being right than clever, and you were actually neither of those things, I'm not even going to respond to most of your email. It's just faaaaar to easy, and I'm kinda tired. I'd even go so far so to give that little battle of wits saying, but it just wouldn't be fair.

I am, however, going to say this about Maura's under bite. Why didn't I ever mention that to you before? Well, honestly, because I thought you had vision. ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME? Do you ever even look at your daughter? Are you blind? I mean, I'm trying to help you out here with an excuse as to why you would miss something that is wrong with your daughter that is LITERALLY AS PLAIN AS THE NOSE ON HER FACE. But I'm glad you put that into an email. That's gonna come in handy. This is gonna rank right up there with you being in complete and utter denial and actually blaming me for her acid reflux, liver levels, and gall stones. How'd that turn out for you?

No, I haven't taken her to a dentist. As with all of her medical appointments, you've been made aware of them prior to her attending. Have you been made aware of any? I think not. And of course I would tell you. I mean, how else am I going to be able to confirm you won't be there?

As for the Lancer. Nope, not gonna refinance. Where would be the fun in that?

Wow. I guess I had more in me than I thought. But now, I'm sad to say, I gotta hit the sack. Gotta be in top form for your response, cuz I KNOW it's gonna be a good one. Kthxbai!

(oh, and stop quoting me. I mean, I know I'm cool and all, but you don't get to anymore. I'm pretty sure it was in the decree).

-sent from my Palm Pre (that's a cell phone btw...)

This strain of emails has done far more for me than any time on a shrink's couch, any amount of meds, and definitely more than the liquor cabinet ever could (and that's saying a LOT). I've never felt so liberated. Exhilarated. No seriously! I've sat and fantasized about all the things I would do to him, where I'd hide the body (or bodies), alibi's, oh the list goes on. And it helped, it really did. But these emails. O.M.G. It would almost be worth talking like that to him all the time.

But I won't. Because it really is about trying to keep the peace for The Monkey. And these emails are probably not conducive to that happening. So if he responds, no...wait...WHEN he responds, two things will happen. One, I'm totally gonna post it on here. And two, I probably won't write back. I say probably because, well, sometimes there IS a need for a response. But I am gonna try not to. Like a real try. Not like that time I tried Cardio Kick Boxing. Seriously, who is that big of a masochist?

Maternity Test

2009-08-02T22:39:00.010-05:00

So about three years ago (OMFG), I was pregnant. I know this because pregnancy leaves me with PTSD. I hate it. Its horrifying. But that's me. Anyway, after this pregnancy thing, I gave birth to a baby. A tiny little beautiful miracle of wonder that almost, ALMOST, made up for the whole pregnancy thing. Somewhere between then and now, I'm pretty sure my kid got swapped out.

When I was younger, I had this irrational fear of costumed folk. I don't mean like around Halloween. Or even clowns. I mean those people whose job it is to don a monkey suit and jump around like idiots to the merriment to most other kiddos. The two specific instances I can remember is at Show Biz (which is what Chuck E Cheese used to be) and at a place in Denver called....oh crap...mmmm....OH! Casa Bonita (yeah I googled Denver Mexican places. what.). Both of these places had gorillas that mingled amongst the folk. Granted, they were people in costumes as gorillas, but whatever. In my head, they were real. And freaking TERRIFYING. No joke, I would hide under the table. Shivering in terror. As these....monstrosities would walk past the table I was simply trying to finish a meal at. And yeah. I still get shit over it from my family.

Which brings me back to why I think my kid was swapped out at some point. She. LOVES. The costumed people. She has yet to meet one she doesn't like. She will run right the hell up to them, hug them, grab their hands, touch them, whatever. No fear.

We went to Sea World today (side note: I just spelled World wrong in every possibly way before getting it right) for some fun in the water park, then headed up to the big gazebo thing for some grub and a show. Which is where every SW (so much easier) performed in a show. And my kid? Hugged all of them.

Look at her. She's totally cheezing it up with this guy. Granted, the stripped shirt and sailor cap does make him significantly less scary than a gorilla, but still. And yes, that bottom picture? That's her smiling for the camera. Why do kids do that? It's like they loose all control of their facial muscles in a desperate attempt to say cheese. Who came up with that anyway? Cheese? Really? When I think cheese, I think about how many days it'll be before I get to take a crap again, and THAT is nothing to smile about. But I digress.

Here's the little traitor with Dolly the Dolphin and Shamu. She charged the stage a couple of times to get at these two. When she got up there, she immediately started petting and chatting and holding hands. It was a regular little love fest. Weird.

She hugged this one for so long it actually became uncomfortable. I almost asked if she needed a minute alone or what the hell. I took the picture, and actually had to drag her away from him. She kept wanting to huuuug and saying 'Tayn Too.'

Sidney the Shark. How did this NOT scare the bejesus out of her? I'M a little scared of this guy. But the monkey? Nooooo, he was the only one left, so she HAD to run over to him. She grabbed his hand (or her, not sure how that works), hugged him, then turned around and made her cheese face.

Had it been me at that age? I probably would have admired them from a distance, been slightly jealous of all the other kids running up to them for hugs and cheese faces, but when the time came for my turn? Yeah. Would've dived right the hell under the table. Pretty sure this isn't my kid.

Whoops

2009-06-26T15:22:00.003-05:00

In order for this story to reach its full potential in hilarity, there are a couple of little tid-bits of information you need to know first.

So I got the Palm Pre, right? And I'm still learning my way through all the intricacies of this new AWESOMEness. That's the first thing you need to know.

Second, in my phone, my ex is labelled as The Ass. I do this for a couple of reasons. One, seeing his name makes my butt pucker, so changing it to The Ass makes me happy, even if for a few seconds prior to reading whatever random word vomit he's decided to spew on me at that moment. And two, because I have a couple of people in my phone who have the name 'James', this keeps him from being lumped in with people I like.

Ok. So. Today I had to take the monkey to the doctor for an ear infection. And being the award winning mother of the year I am, I figured I should probably let the sperm donor know about it. Plus the divorce decree makes me, but that's this whole other thing that we won't get into at this moment. Here's the email I sent to him:

James,

I've scheduled an appointment this morning with Dr. Albrecht for Monkey. Her ear infection does not seem to be getting better. The appointment is at 1145. Just fyi as I know you won't attend.

Thanks.

-- Sent from my Palm Pre

Perfectly harmless, yes? HERE'S the response I got back from him:

Mandy,

I just received your email, but won't be able to attend as I am currently in New York.

Please let me know how her appt. turns out.

James
aka "The Ass"

Um. What? Aka 'The Ass'? How would he...how did he...what the...? It was at that moment that I realized that my new phone, which has now reached a NEW level of awesomeness, disclosed to the recipient how he was titled in my phone. So the ACTUAL email looked like this:

from	me@themail.com
reply-to		"me@themail.com"
to		The Ass "libr8r@themail.com"
date		Fri, Jun 26, 2009 at 9:06 AM
subject		Monkey
mailed-by		themail.com

hide details 9:06 AM (6 hours ago)

-- Sent from my Palm Pre

Fan-freaking-tastic. I have not stopped laughing since. I have so many responses I want to reply with.

"It was easier to type that than rat bastard whore mongering douche bag."

"At least now you know what to answer to"

"At what point did you ever think that WOULDN'T be what I would call you"

And the list goes on and on. Point is, it has made my day that he got to see that. I have YET to stop laughing. :) Also, I'm pretty sure every time I sent him an email from my phone I'm going to change his name to some other derogatory title. Any suggestions?

Horrifying and Awesome

2009-06-05T08:56:00.002-05:00

It's like when you see a car accident, and you don't want to look, even slightly ridiculing others that do, but you still can't look away.

Like that, but better. And worse.

Click that. I swear to you it will be worth it. And click more than once. Don't be shy.

I'm totally not judging you right now. I promise.

Mother's Day

2009-05-10T03:25:00.004-05:00

It's 3:25 in the morning, and I can't sleep.

I can't sleep because for me this is just another Sunday. I don't get to sleep late. I don't get to awaken to the smell of breakfast in bed. I don't get to be handed a bouquet of flowers. I don't get to hear the words Happy Mother's Day in my daughter's voice at the coaching of my significant other. I don't get to thank my daughter for the crayon creation on construction paper she diligently worked over to celebrate my being a mother to her. I don't get hugs from family members and loved ones. Those are things that, as a mother, on Mother's Day, I have never experienced.

I know, this post sounds awesome, huh? Well hold on a second, it gets better.

I want to wish each and every single one of you who has ever played the role of mother a very Happy Mother's Day. I really and truly do. It's a shame that only one day is dedicated to the trials and tribulations that go into being a mother. You all deserve so much more credit, so much more thanks, and so much more respect than anyone can fit into a 24 hour period.

But for me, I don't celebrate Mother's Day. It hurts to much to sit around and think about all those things I mentioned above.

Instead, I get to awaken at the butt crack of dawn to the smiling face of a beautiful little girl. A beautiful little girl whose eyes show so much excitement that Mommy is awake, and 'oh, Mommy, I've been waiting all night for us to start a new day.' A little girl who climbs clumsily into bed next to me so that she can snuggle her warm little head into the crook of my arm and jam her warm little knees into my ribs. A little girl who grabs my face into her hands and covers me with kisses. A little girl who, when I tell her that I love her, shrugs her little shoulders and says 'I yuve you.' A little girl who can't wait to tell me that she went potty, and ew, gross. Poop. A little girl who gets excited about going outside to water the garden. A little girl who twirls in her dress just to hear me tell her she's pretty and smile at her. A little girl who loves the breakfast I make for her, whether it's cereal or toaster waffles. A little girl whose smile lights up the room. Whose voice is like music. Whose touch is like magic.

So today, I don't celebrate me. I celebrate her. Because without her, there would be nothing to celebrate.

So Happy Mother's Day, Monkey. Thank you so much for letting me be your Mommy. Thank you so much for keeping me alive. Thank you giving me something to live for. Thank you for making each and every single day more interesting than the last. Thank you for bringing a meaning and a joy into my life I had no idea existed until the day you were born. Thank you for making every day, Mother's Day.

Awesome.

2009-05-05T09:09:00.001-05:00

2009-04-30T10:17:00.001-05:00

I can now blog from my phone. As long as its 160 characters or less. So its kind of like Twitter. But with more characters.
This is what 160 looks like.....

Weird Dreams

2009-04-30T09:34:00.002-05:00

I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I'm not 100% sure why, and to be honest, I don't really care. All I want is to be able to lay down, actually fall asleep, and stay that way. Last night was pretty rough, probably the worst I've had.

I wasn't able to actually get into bed until around 1am thanks to work. And when I did finally crawl under the covers, I couldn't fall asleep. When I was finally able to do that, I woke up every thirty minutes. Not joking. And within those thirty minutes, I was having dreams. Not the same dream. Different dreams. All with different ex-boyfriends. Weird huh? I'm not going to even attempt to analyze that.

I had a weird dream yesterday as well, but I can't remember what it was about. Have you ever woken up, remembered a dream as vividly as it was still happening, but the longer you think about the dream, the less you remember? What kind of crap is that? I mean, it came from your mind, did it not? So why can't your mind retain that information long enough to blog about it so the whole world can laugh at you? I'm thinking it has something to do with the swine flu.

Because when I think Holst, I think Peanut Butter cups.

2009-04-26T13:40:00.002-05:00

So there's this commercial that always catches my eye, which is kind of spectacular on its own because I don't watch commercials, that's what I pay extra for a DVR for thank you very much. Anyway, it's a Reese's Peanut Butter cup commercial, and even if I'm not watching the TV, as soon as I hear the music, I always stop what I'm doing to turn around and watch it. And not because its exciting. Because it is absolutely not. Without the music, its probably the most boring commercial in the history of man. But the music. It's Gustav Holst's The Planets, specifically Jupiter. And I love it. All the movements, not just Jupiter, but especially Jupiter because the sheet music sat in my high school band folder for I'm pretty sure all four years of high school. I'm really not sure why, we never actually played it for anything, but there it was. Probably because its a hard piece, and to play it half ass would not be doing anybody any favors. You just can't dumb it down the way you can a lot of the John Williams stuff (no offense to John Williams, he's an idol of mine as well) and have it be as fantastic as it is in full form.

Anyway, the point of the story is I love the commercial because of the music. I don't even like RPBC. But I would totally buy them now because they remind me of some of the incredible music I'm missing out on by not living my dream. But in a good way. I need that kind of reminder so I don't get lost.

Here's the commercial.

And here? Well there you won't be doing yourself any favors if you don't listen. If you've never listened to this song, you've lived half your life for nothing. And you can't be my friend anymore. So save our friendship and listen. I won't make you listen to all of them. Just Jupiter. But if you like it, then go out and listen to the entire suite. It's totally worth it. And make sure you crank up the volume.

And yes, I totally did just go all band geek on you and put my horn together for some practice.

My Heart Hurts

2009-04-14T21:55:00.002-05:00

http://tinyurl.com/campa6

There really are no words.

Tonight I'm going to hold the Monkey a lot tighter though.

Kiss it, I'm Irish

2009-03-17T15:46:00.004-05:00

Has it been long enough for ya? Anyone still out there? This thing still on?

I'm blaming facebook. No seriously. Since I can constantly update my status there, by the time I get home in the evenings, or whatever, not so interested in recapping. You wanna know? Go check me out on facebook. Mandy Bell.

But seriously, I do want to get back into writing here. It was a good outlet, I had fun, and I definitely want to capture some of the memories of The Smoodge down so that later in life I can say, See? This is why Mommy drinks.

The problem in the last month or so has been the fact that my immune system is trying to take me down. And for real this time. I've had colds, allergies, gastroenteritis, kidney stones, and now? Today's current affliction? I'm pretty sure I'm getting a kidney infection. How awesome is that? I had one good day. ONE. Then back to the sick mill again. I don't know who I've pissed off upstairs, but seriously? I'm SORRY. A LOT. Could we just do the raining frogs thing or the locusts thing? Because I can at least go inside for that. I'll even smear some what is it? lamb's blood? on my door frame. Name it. But let's call a truce on the immune system, mkay?

The Smoodge has been kinda awesome during Mommy's bouts of death. Last week, after coming home from the hospital and still enjoying the effects of two bags of happy juice and a couple of vicodin, I crashed out on the couch. And ever the good little monkey, The Smoodge camped out right there with me. And mEl-mo.

I look like crap. Don't look at me. Look at The Smoodge. Who more and more often now is being called Monkey. We'll make a slow transition, don't worry. Anyway, how cute is she? The pic was taken by my friend Jennifer, who was kind enough to drive about 35 miles at 7am to take The Smoodge...er, Monkey to daycare and me to the emergency room and stay with me all day until Monkey went to bed. However. That kindness was quickly erased when I discovered there were pictures. Come on, how good am I supposed to look after passing kidney stones and being fairly stoned myself? Pictures? Seriously? Gah.

Monkey's newest forte is Xtreme Temper Tantrums. I always knew there would be a day when that little angry redhead in her would appear, I just didn't realize it was going to be last Friday. Some warning next time would have been nice. So, I spent Thursday in the hospital/on vicodin, then Friday felt I could go in to work, provided I maintained my normal levels of narcos during the day (but not while driving. I timed it out). When I arrived at the daycare to pick up Monkey(maybe not such a slow transition after all), she was happy to see me. Ok. Normal so far. Then I asked her to put on her jacket so we could leave. It was at that point that I felt the earth shift on it's axis and hell open up to release the inner demons that are part of Monkey's Xtreme Temper Tantrum. She started with the face. Oh it's a sad face all right. Except I don't buy it. I know what comes next. Then, comes the pushing/hitting/biting self/pick your self mutilation here. Then. Then comes the best part. She falls to her knees, as if to plea with God one last time before being overcome like in the Exorcist. Next the face plant, the flailing limbs, the crying, the screaming, the gnashing of teeth. Her teacher in the evenings is a push over. And when Monkey went into this XTT, she immediately flew to her aid, wringing hands, saying, oh Monkey, oh, it's okay! Don't cry...blah blah blah. I told teacher to back off and leave her alone. I addressed Monkey and told her that I don't know what happened to my baby, MY sweet baby who lays beside her mommy all nice and sweet while Mommy births kidney stones with the help of water and narcos, but I want her back and I am not taking THIS baby with me. And I walked out. Seriously. I mean, not out of the whole daycare, because that would be mean, just out of the classroom, and I hid just out of site. And wouldn't you know it? Monkey stood up, brushed herself off, dried her own tears, and put on her jacket. The end. Bow for the audience. Curtains close. Exit stage left.

Not all of the XTT's have gone as well as that one. That one is my favorite because I'm pretty sure the teacher was about to internally explode right after calling CPS because I had just WALKED OUT ON MY CHILD. Also. The XTT's are kind of exhausting for me. Especially since I'm only running on half, if that, tank of gas anyway. Since that one on Friday, we've had probably three or four a day. So basically what I'm sayin' is....

One toddler, slightly used, $5 OBO.

Making My Death Bed

2009-02-21T21:44:00.002-06:00

I haven't blogged in awhile. I know. You'll get over it.

Most of that has to do with all the craziness that has been going on in and around my life right now, and my complete inability to speak on it as honestly as I want to and my anger at the limitation of that. From the birth of my younger sister's baby boy, to the complete lack of...I don't even know what...from my middle sister, to the garbage spewed forth from a man in my life (and no, it's NOT the ex), to the fact that I'm pretty sure my immune system has quit. Which is good, because I fired it today and am now accepting applications for a new one. One that doesn't have allergies, a consistent body ache, 101+ degree temperature, and the ability to cause me to sneeze so hard I have to make sure I didn't pee my pants. I know. Kegels. I do 'em. Doesn't matter. Fuck you very much to all the catheters I've had in my life.

See how overwhelming all that is? Throw in the amount of pressure I feel at work and you've got a cocktail for disappearance. Hence, the not blogging.

I don't know that I'm back. I do know that I've been on the couch all day long, suffering in quiet agony, while The Smoodge continually kisses my forehead and says, 'Mommy owie? Owie? Awwww...' and tries to force me to drink from her sippy cup. And after a day of that, I'm awake enough to know that if I don't change positions, there's a very good chance my ass will stick like this forever, so here I am.

Oh. I totally forgot to mention the fact that on Wednesday I ~~was PUSHED~~ fell into a cactus and only today was able to get all the barbs out. Of my bum. Yeah. What was I gonna do? Give the two year old the tweezers and tell her to go to town? Not so much. I completely appreciate Tina for doing that for me, but I also completely realize that THAT was a moment that is going to require therapy for everyone involved. Once you have spent time bent over your best friends couch while she uses a flashlight, tweezers, and peroxide to pick stickers out of your right cheek, there's just no going back from that. EVER.

And now I've spent more time in the upright position than my body is capable, so I'm off to lay back down in the Mandy shaped imprint on the couch.

*side note-apparently the spell check was created by a man because it doesn't recognize the word Kegels. What does it want it replaced with? Keels, Keel's, Gels, Kegs, and Hegel's. WTF.

VD

2009-02-14T12:41:00.003-06:00

No, not THAT VD. Valentine's Day. Duh. THAT VD would involve me getting some, which I am currently not. So it's both a blessing, and a curse.

I could go on and on about the blah that is Valentine's day, but that's boring, and besides, I can bitch about how single I am any day of the year. So I'll mix it up a bit and NOT do a post that will make you want to grab your nearest straight edge and start fraying the edges of whatever artery for you is closest to the surface of your skin.

So instead, today The Smoodge and I are chillin' like villains in bed. All day probably. Mostly because she's running 101+ temp. How fun is that? We're currently rockin' the 'Love is a Battlefield' theme on USA. First, Notting Hill. Which has led me to believe that I will never be truly happy in life unless I marry a Brit. Second up, Along Came Polly. That's where we are currently. I don't even really like this flick, but there is not really a whole lot else on. I thought maybe they'd be running a marathon of Burn Notice, which would have been AWESOME. I think I'd make a kick ass spy.

I just now realized that I could probably watch all the Burn Notice I can handle on hulu.com or surfthechannel.com. Dude. VD just got a whole lot better.

And for clarification, I don't mean the disease.

Wordle

2009-02-08T12:42:00.004-06:00

You can make one here. And don't worry, it requires no thought process whatsoever, just a copy and paste and you're good to go. So if you're lazy like me (after all, I'm posting the work of a computer in someones basement as opposed to actually blogging about something), do not fret, this web site's for YOU!

Amen

2009-02-07T15:25:00.001-06:00

PROFANITY AHEAD.

Cheater, Cheater

2009-02-03T01:20:00.001-06:00

Totally cheating because this floated to me on facebook, but since I haven't posted anything in awhile....

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.
(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.

1. I always use two towels when I shower. Always. And each one has it's own specific drying area. And never the two shall meet.

2. I have a cat named Natra and a dog named April. Natra is named after Sinatra, because he has blue eyes (he's a Siamese snow shoe). April lives with my mom 1000 miles away. Hopefully she'll get to come live with me this year.

3. I married my soul mate only to have him break my heart and leave me in the same year. I'm scared I'll never find that kind of love again. Also, commitment is shit.

4. I hate doing stuff like this. It puts all kinds of pressure on me to think about stuff. I usually spend a week or more obsessing about it before putting up crap like #3.

5. My best friend is certifiably crazy. Not crazy like psych ward crazy. Crazy like monkey in a knife fight crazy. Maybe psych ward crazy...

6. I'm certifiably crazy.

7. I have a 2 year old daughter that saved my life.

8. When I grow up I want to be a band director. I would love to go back to school and get my degree so I can, I just don't know how to do it while being a single mother with a 2 year old.

9. I'm OCD about really random things. And when those things get messed up, it seriously messes with my head.

10. I'm only on 10 of 25? Shit.

11. I have three re-occurring nightmares. One has ET in it, the other a castle, and the third involves Smurfs. Stop judging me.

12. I am deathly afraid of aliens and dinosaurs. And birds, but that relates to the dinosaurs.

13. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get to bed before midnight.

14. I just tried to skip 14 and go to 15 thinking no one would notice and I'd only have to come up with 24 things (well, technically 23, see #10), but felt guilty about it.

15. I can't cook. Seriously. I made some cookies last weekend with my daughter, and the recipe ingredients said to put in 1/2 tsp of soda, so I put in 1/2 tsp of soda, only to read later it meant baking soda. Upside: diet coke can be substituted for baking soda.

16. I have one tattoo, and that is a travesty. I'm designing my next one, and it's gonna be a BIG one.

17. I'm scared to death of needles. I guess I could have added that to #12.

18. I want to live in Australia. This may happen sooner rather than later if I can plan for it right.

19. I suck at planning stuff.

20. Most people who meet me think I'm a liberal, and it surprises them that I'm a conservative. I don't generally talk politics with people because everyone is entitled to their own brand of stupidity.

21. I don't want to have any more children. I hated being pregnant. If I do have more kids, I'll adopt.

22. My favorite thing ever is when Maura wakes up in the middle of the night and wants to cuddle. Favorite. Thing. EVER.

23. I hate going to professional photographers. They never capture the image I want. Also, I can't ever leave there without buying enough pictures to take home a CD. Because the thought of anyone throwing pictures of my daughter away freak me out. Like seriously freak me out.

24. It is taking me forever to finish this stupid thing. All of you who tagged me obviously don't know me at all. Also, all of you I've tagged, misery loves company :)

25. I love Bath & Body Works Midnight Pomegranate. Feel free to buy me presents.

It's cute how you think I'm listening.

2009-01-22T10:12:00.003-06:00

It's late, and once again I'm working into the wee hours. I can't think for the life of me what to blog about.

Not true. I have several topics, but all of which require extensive brain usage, none of which I currently have. I could list them for you, but that would be boring. And really it would only serve as a reminder for me to try and write about tomorrow.

Wellll, since you talked me into it...

1. People who talk to me like they are my boss, but are most definitely not.
2. Fun with Sprint
3. SPAZMATICS TOMORROW NIGHT (wow, that one took a lot of energy. you didn't catch that from the all caps?)
4. The poo contest the cat and the kid are having (how would you measure that? an odormometer? is that a word? its at least close to a word...right?)
5. That feeling when I feel like the creepy crawlies on my neck are trying to rip my spine through my pores.

Ok, very sleepy now. Eyes closing, fingers fumbling on the keyboard, and I can actually hear myself snoring..........zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I like you uglies, but don't talk to me.

2009-01-21T23:06:00.003-06:00

It's late. And I'm exhausted. Watching two episodes of American Idol in a row will do that to you. Especially when your trachea (pronounced Tray She Ah) gets irricatated by your rectums. And no, I haven't lost it. Those were actual words used by a contestant on yesterday's San Francisco AI, which I just watched tonight. And no, I'm not providing a link. I can't find it. But it was hilarious.

I can't decide if I want to take a shower tonight or in the morning. Oh, the pressure of it all.

Do you ever feel like the dirty dishes breed? I mean, I did dishes today around 3:30pm, and now I've got a sink full of dirty ones. What the hell.

I think I'm gonna take that shower. I'm cold, and it'll help warm me up before I jump into bed. Or not, I dunno. Did I mention I'm exhausted?

This HAS to be the dumbest post EVER.

I've been naughty. So what?

2009-01-20T16:24:00.002-06:00

Ok. So I just realized that the inauguration this morning was at 11 am. Oh no, I watched it, I'm not having this realization because I missed it. I'm having the realization that it was at 11 am. Which is what time the Young and the Restless comes on. And I'm betting that CBS covered it, because why wouldn't they be like the rest of the sheep in this country who was glued into the coverage (and yes, I totally was too. But only because I thought my shows would be safely recording at home on the DVR. Don't ask me to explain my logic to you. It will only leave both of us confused, me angry, and you with a bruise on your head from where the stapler I threw hit it). Why wouldn't they dare to be different, to REALIZE CHANGE? Ugh. Now I have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens to Amber and Katherine and all my other friends.

I know. I'm sad.

YES I watched the inauguration today. I kind of led a revolt at work in order to watch it. Let me es'plain.... no, there is too much, let me sum up. I got to work this morning, and tuned the ole interweb to msnbc to watch the live coverage (and before you make some sort of conservative watching liberal media comment, let me just tell you I TRIED watching it on fox.com, but the feed wouldn't come through because our IT guy sucks). And me and msnbc were trucking along just fine. Until others realized what I was listening/watching, and then THEY wanted to listen/watch. Well, with all the peeps trying to watch and the WORLDS CRAPPIEST INTERNET BECAUSE OF THE WORLDS CRAPPIEST IT GUY (actually, it's not his fault, but he's throwing a temper tantrum at me right now, so I'm throwing one right back. hehe, rookie), every one's feed kept locking up. So I made the receptionist announce that if they wanted to watch it, NOT to watch it on their computers, but to go to this other guys desk who has a big ole monitor, and the room for all six of us to cram in to watch it (and yes, there are only about six of us in the office this week. which means pants are optional. there's no memo or anything, but it's totally implied). What was I talking about? Oh, right. Pants. No. Inauguration. Yeah, that's it. So we were watching it in there, but then it started sucking again, so we crammed into another office to watch it on a tiny little black and white. And it was anti-climatic. I enjoyed the performance of Yo-Yo Ma and Co. more so than the speech. I'm not saying it was bad or anything, I'm just waiting for more than lip service, you know?

Anyway, before the bleeding heart liberals start to get all crazy on me (and oh, one kinda did today during the swearing in...she totally got all Manson over the fact that the word execute was used in the oath, like it's never happened before. seriously) let's change the subject. Like to the fact that there are only 10 minutes left in the work day.

Oh! I almost forgot! So remember LAST week when ~~ass hole~~ ~~rat bastard~~ the ex was all, oh, I haven't seen The Smoodge in forever so I'm going to steal her and bring her back when I damn well feel like it (I'm paraphrasing here)? Remember? Well TODAY, he has visitation, all day, until 5pm, and he sends me a text message at 2pm, A TEXT MESSAGE, telling me that he has dropped her off at the daycare. W. T. F. Seriously?

Okay, that's a lot of topics, and only 4 minutes left, so I have done my bloggingly duties for the day, and am now gonna pack up and leave and call my sister to find out why her due date has been bumped up by a week and she didn't tell me and I found out because my other sister (the one who can't keep secrets) posted it on Facebook. FACEBOOK knew before I did. That's fucked up.

Your ugliness cheers me up.

2009-01-19T22:41:00.001-06:00

The week before I took off from Christmas (I remember specifically, it was that Monday), I went to lunch with a co-worker. We went to this place that's fairly new, and when we got there, questioned whether or not it was open. I noticed a waiter type standing by the bar, peeked in, and asked if the joint was available. He indicated it was, and said we could sit wherever. Duh. The place was empty. I saw tumbleweeds. So we picked out a table, and Mr. Waiter came over to introduce himself and get our drink orders. He was good looking, and said his name was Brent. I work with a Brent, and being the friendly type I am, I said as such, and instigated a conversation. There was brief flirting. Lunch moved forward, we ordered, whatever. I can't remember a lot of the specific details because I have slept since then, but at some point he came and sat down next to us and chatted for a bit. As we got our receipts back, I made some joke about leaving my number on the back for him. My coworker basically dared me (she had a good point. just do it, and if he doesn't call, I don't ever have to go back there, and if he does, score), so I left a little note with the digits. We giggled our way out of there and booked it back to work.

Day continues, boring blah, and I pick up The Smoodge and head home. Around 6 that evening, the phone rings, and it's not a number I recognize. It's Brent. I'm freaking shocked. Normally dudes do that whole wait a couple of days before calling. Well, I guess it's not fair to say dudes, because girls do it too, but you get what I mean. Anyway, we chat for a bit, the normally boring getting to know you small talk blah, and he invites me out for that Thursday. I told him I'd have to check my schedule and I'd get back with him the next day.

Let me break into this story now and say that I never told him about The Smoodge. He doesn't know I have a kid, and I didn't feel that first couple minutes chatting was the time to do it. I figured it would behoove me to get to know him a bit first. See if he's even worth mentioning I have a child to.

He's not. But we'll get there in a minute.

So a friend of a friend, which I guess is a friend of mine too, except I'm not really familiar with the whole chain of friendship thing, which is also why I suck at doing the send this to seven people email thingies, but anyway, this girl I know volunteered to baby sit The Smoodge for me as a birthday present (since my birthday was the next day). So I got all dolled up, which for me is basically putting on deodorant (what do you expect? I have a freaking TWO YEAR OLD), and headed out to meet up with Brent.

We met up at a bar. Not even a nice bar. A dive. A dive I had never been to, but he apparently had his name on a plaque on the wall for who could accumulate the most DWI's on the way out of there. I get there, he's already gotten started on the liquor. I gave him a pass on that since we were meeting up late anyway. So we go in, we sit down, start with the formalities, and some random dude walks up and apparently hasn't seen Brent in 8 or something stupid years and while I'm sitting there with my thumb in my ass thinking, I left The Smoodge at home for THIS? During the time I'm having an internal debate about whether or not I should take a shot, walk out, and go catch a flick, my DATE apparently decided that our time would be best spent hanging out with this old friend of his. Playing darts. Awesome.

I actually had a decent time playing darts. I don't normally like games I haven't played before because I suck, and I don't like sucking, especially not in front of someone who I'm still in the 'need to impress' stage (although, for a date, he was getting me out of that stage in record times), but apparently I was having beginner's luck because I was rocking the dart board. Plus, the more you drink, the easier it becomes to hang out with...well...anyone. Unless you're a mean drunk. In which case, I know this guy you can go get drunk with...

I should break in right here and also say that not once, even a little bit, during any part of the flirting at the restaurant or the time at the bar did I ever have the thought that this guy was going to be anything more than a friend. I have a two year old. I don't need more children. And let's face it, that's all men are.

I told Brent as much. He asked me at some point what I was looking for. And I was perfectly straight with him. I told him I'm looking for someone to hang out with. And I absolutely was NOT looking for a relationship. Under no circumstances. Not even a little. Nuh-uh. No. Way. And he seemed cool with it. So we had fun playing darts, he asked when we could hang out again, I told him I was going out of town for the next two weeks, but we'd figure something out once I got back into town. He seemed cool with it, and I went home.

He called every. Single. Day. while I was in Missouri. Which was....mmmm...what's the word? Annoying at best? I talked to him occasionally, but I was busy. I mean, come on! I'm with family I haven't seen in ages, it's the freaking holidays, and I've only DATED YOU ONCE. ON A FAKE DATE. Seriously? Sometimes I would answer, sometimes I wouldn't. Didn't matter. Every. Single. Day.

So now I'm back. And he knows I'm back. And I keep making excuses as to why I can't just drop everything and hang out with him. He still doesn't know I have a kid. He thinks I've been out of town off and on for business. Which is funny because I don't travel for business. Ok, maybe once, but I needed the money, and hell, I'll try anything once.

I talked to him a few nights ago, and he was all kinds of pissy with me. I was half tempted to ask him if he was pre or post menstrual, but decided against it. Besides, the pissier he got, the more fun I had with the conversation. He asked me if I wanted to go to a movie with him this last weekend, and then started in on some diatribe about chick flicks and how there are some out there he'd totally go see with me, and I was like, um. Have you met me? I don't do chick flicks, but instead I gave him some bull-oney excuse about Houston, and shows, and whatever, and he asked me if my phone worked where I was going. I said, oh yeah. So HE says, get this...lol...SO YOU CAN CALL THEN. All pissy like he had the right!!! I KNOW!

So that whole time to start dating post I had a few weeks ago? Yeah. That post can suck it.

You're icky and that's sad.

2009-01-18T12:46:00.000-06:00

I don't normally do any sort of political posting. I simply don't have time to brush up on stuff like I used to pre-toddler. Point is, if you read past this paragraph, and you get pissed off, don't say you weren't warned.

This coming Tuesday is going to be a big day in the history of this great country. And regardless of how you voted, you can't help but admit that it's exciting times. For once, in our life times, we get to be a part of a huge moment that didn't involve the death of millions of people. Or of Brad and Angelina adopting another shade of kid.

That being said, Barack Obama is just a man. Regardless of the color of his skin, he is not going to cure the economy, he is not going to stop the fighting, he is not going to banish unemployment, and he is not going to house the homeless. Sure, he may take steps towards that, but realistically, until he is in office for more than just one term, those steps won't even begin to matter. The economy ebbs and flows, the wars will continue, the unemployment will fluctuate, as will the homeless numbers.

I mention all of this because of the outpouring of...well, complete and utter bullshit his presidency is starting off with. I'm sorry, but travelling the same path Abraham Lincoln took the capitol via train for four days? Seriously? Not to mention the number of inaugural things and parties and blah blah blah that will go on on the 20th. Exactly how much money is being dumped into this? And out of curiosity, how is it AWFUL for a financial institution to take it's leaders on a retreat costing several hundreds of thousands of dollars, but perfectly acceptable for the same man who abhorred that specific kind of action to spend hundreds of MILLIONS of dollars on winning of a popularity contest? Has it crossed the mind of the man who is going to take the reigns of the United States of America that his kick-off festivities are currently projected at running TWICE that of the bail-out?

Look, I won't deny it. I voted for McCain. And sure, that is probably going to make me just a tad more cynical of the actions our new president takes once in office (and apparently in the days before). That being said, despite the fact that I didn't vote for him, I hope he succeeds as president. Regardless of who is driving, I'm still in the car, and I'm not going to wish for his failure simply because I didn't vote for him.

But so far? So far it's not looking good.

Shave and a Haircut...Twoooooo Biiiiiiiits

2009-01-17T11:47:00.009-06:00

Except no shave.

I took The Smoodge to Sharkey's today for a hair cut. She's been sticking her hair in her mouth and chewing on it, then ripping it out of her mouth while still clamped between her teeth. Which makes this hair ripping sound that is not too far from nails on a chalkboard. Which in turn makes me want to jab a paperclip through my retina. It also means that at the end of the day the sides of her hair resemble the texture of the hair in this picture.

I'm entirely too scared to cut her hair myself. When I was little, my mom took me to a place to get my hair cut, and instead they cut into the bottom of my right ear lobe. I still have the scar. And am still severely traumatized. So when I think about cutting The Smoodge's hair, I have all these horrible visions of her coughing and jamming the sharp end of the scissors up her nose, or through her temple. Try explaining THAT one to CPS. I have cut her bangs a couple of times, but that's usually something I have to ~~drink~~ talk myself into.

So to save The Smoodge from an impaled noggin and myself from having to buy more booze, I took her to Sharkey's. It's this cute little place that specializes in kids haircuts. The 'chair' that The Smoodge got to sit in was a Barbie Jeep (which, on a side note, I know now not to buy her, because her short little feet don't reach the pedals), and watch Elmo (Mell-Mo!) while some other woman got to worry about stabbing the baby. I took pictures, she got her haircut, and nobody had to explain anything to the authorities. And now, for your viewing pleasure, and without further ado, except for this sentence, and possibly...oh never mind, here's the pics:

Pulling the gum out of her mouth. Just after this, she handed it to me. Babies are gross.

The expression on her face is freaking priceless. Except it's not what it looks like. She's trying to look around the stylists hands to watch Elmo (Mell-Mo!). But still. Funny.

See that hair dryer? I WANT THAT.

Ta-Da!

Pretty hair, Mommy?

Good or Bad?

2009-01-14T22:43:00.002-06:00

I'm not sure which of those categories this day falls into. Or this week really. It's just been one of those...?

Monday was the day the (son of a bitch) ex took The Smoodge and didn't bring her back like he was supposed to. That was bad. I filed a report with SAPD. That was eh. I was told by SAPD to have New Braunfels PD escort me to his residence to pick her up. That was hopeful. NBPD says they don't do that...for anyone. Seriously, like they needed to clarify. Which tells me that they DO do it, just not when it involves a member of their own. That was bad. Then the officer, Frank Moreno (oh yeah, I'm gonna call you out), tells me that while NBPD doesn't do that (for anyone), the Constable does, and would I mind waiting a few minutes for one to call me? That was promising. The constable calls, and they don't do that without a judges order. Which is confusing, because I thought that's what the divorce decree was. Apparently not. Even though it's signed by a judge. So that decree I've been walking on pins and needles to abide by? Not enforceable. At least according to the SAPD, the NBPD, and the CCC. Highlight? The ex's job has it on record that he doesn't follow court orders.

Tuesday was fairly uninteresting, with a three hour car ride to Houston with the boss. He's a funny dude, so it wasn't too bad. The meeting went okay, actually went really well for us, and then lunch at the Katy Mills mall before hitting the 3 hour drive back home. Very neutral.

Today? Wellll.... Today I went and checked out a new daycare that I would love to get The Smoodge into. They seemed awesome. Except. They want just shy of 10 billion dollars to get her enrolled. They also want all of the daycare costs for the month up front, whereas now I pay weekly. That's sort of a problem. I am hoping they will work with me on it, but won't know for sure until I call and talk to them tomorrow. *fingers crossed!!! Once back at work, I've finally been able to pin down what my title there should be. Crutch. At some point during the day, every single department came to me at some point for help. For things I don't do. Which means for the things I do do (hehe, do do), they don't get done. Or I'm left doing them into the wee hours of the night. Which I don't have the energy to do while the Mountain Cedar is attempting to kill me. Once that was over, I went to go pick up The Smoodge at the daycare, am backing out of my parking space, and some woman tries to jam herself into the empty space next to me while I'm backing out. Nice. Now the front driver side of my car is all scratched to crap. I seriously don't see how that could have been my fault. She KNEW I was leaving. Ugh. But I'll have to wait for the adjuster and liability hoo-ha to come out and assess fault. I'm hoping it's hers. *fingers crossed!!!

Then there's the phone call from the current stalker. I'm gonna have to come back to that later, because I just don't know where I'm going to pull the energy from to rant about THAT GUY. I'm just too exhausted from the lack of definition. Or something.

*side bar- in rereading this post, I realize I've used the phrase 'do do' twice. Not sure what that means, but now I have go to the bathroom. Coincidence? Or more like my intestines are sending me subliminal messages?

Houston

2009-01-13T22:48:00.002-06:00

I'm tired. I was going to be in bed an hour ago, but I have this awesome allergy trick where I feel like I'm trying to swallow a rock. Not that I've ever tried to swallow a rock, but if I did, I can imagine this is what it would feel like. Anyone caring to try that rock swallowing thing, let me know, we'll compare notes. Anyway, the rock swallowing thing is keeping me from sleeping.

I went to Houston today. That's, like, 3 hours away. Drove there, went to a meeting, had lunch, drove back. At least it was with a good looking Brit. Who is funny. So that helps.

The end.

You can talk to me, but where will we put the barf?

2009-01-12T10:35:00.002-06:00

Second time using my little calendar for a title, and I have to say this one is my favorite thus far :)

Just found out that I'm going to Houston tomorrow. Whoo. Freakin'. Hoo. Leaving SA at 8:15am, to drive to an 11am meeting with the stinkin' union, then turn back around and be home by 5pm. How much fun is THAT going to be? Seriously. At least I'm not doing it alone, I'm actually riding down there with the VP of the company, and he's a pretty entertaining dude. And he's British, so even just talking to him is interesting. Yeah. That won't get old at all after 6 hours in a car. Nope. Not even a little bit.

The ex took The Smoodge this morning and is insisting he's keeping her tonight. He knows about her therapy. I'm really not sure what I'll do if he doesn't bring her back. I have several options, the most fun being the fact that he's pissed me off and left me without any responsibilities. I'm thinking yard forking. Or maybe using that stuff that kills grass to spell dirty words on the lawn. Or maybe just a can of spraypaint'll do it. Ahhh, the possibilities are endless.....

Seriously though, chances are PRETTY good I'm just going to drink myself to sleep. What? I'm not doing the driving tomorrow. Don't judge me. Because lets face it. The system isn't set up to do jack shit when he fucks with my world. I pretty much get to bend over and take it. The only thing I can really do is set aside the correspondence in case we ever go back to court. Specifically to use it against him if he tries to get more visitation or keep me under a residency restriction longer. Until then? It's just me, a six pack, and my blanket. Good times.

Options

2009-01-11T16:28:00.002-06:00

Me: You wanna eat?

The Smoodge: No.

Me: You wanna go get me a diaper?

TS: No.

Me: Wanna go potty?

TS: No.

Me: Wanna go jump off a tall tower?

TS: Tower?

*sigh

Bored

2009-01-11T15:24:00.003-06:00

Sunday afternoon, and I'm waiting for The Smoodge to wake up from her nap. In the meantime, I've changed the look of my blog about six times. Not sure how I feel about this one, but I guess I'll roll with it for a bit. At least until I find something I like better.

Those stinkin' allergies are attacking me again. I never used to have any issues with allergies. I mean, randomly I'd have weird issues with things like grass. Or stuffed animal hair. I know, that one freaks me out too. But other than that, all the cedar and pollen and blah blah blah never bothered me. Until. I had The Smoodge. I am pretty sure it's really HER that I'm allergic too, and the other stuff is just what triggers the external reactions. I mean, who WOULDN'T be allergic to this:

I'm pretty sure everyone is allergic to ninja babies.

A Day in the Life of Someone Who Deals with a Moron Baby Daddy

2009-01-10T14:38:00.004-06:00

Ok, I realize this may be cheating just a bit, because it's not a real blog entry, it's just cutting and pasting an email conversation between myself and my AWESOME (said with only a hint of sarcasm) ex-husband. But. It IS actually the kind of crap I deal with from him on a regular basis, and since I have to deal with it, I thought it only fair that you should share in the bull shit.

For the back story, The Smoodge and I went on a two week vacation over the holidays. I let him know in accordance with the damn divorce decree, and he agreed. We got back this last weekend, and he started this email conversation with me on Thursday. He's in red (because that's what color evil is) and I'm in blue. The ONLY thing I've changed is her name to The Smoodge (because that would be weird if that's how we referred to her in real life. that's just for you crazies).

Mandy,

Since you were out of town during my weekend visitation with her, I will keep her overnight on Mon. Jan. 12th and will drop her off on Tue Jan. 13th.

James,

Unfortunately that is not going to be possible. Perhaps if you had given more notice something could have been negotiated.

On October 26, 2008, I asked that you give at least a 15 day notice of when you wanted your overnight visit to be. On October 28, 2008, you agreed to this request. You were made aware of the dates she would be gone on October 26th, and had ample opportunity to schedule an alternate overnight, and you failed to do so.

If you are voiding our agreement to give a 15 day notice, or to have your overnight with The Smoodge on your weekend with her, please state that as such. If this is the route you would prefer to take, you will need to let me know what dates for an overnight you would like to have from now until November so that I can schedule it accordingly.

Thank you.

Mandy,

Unfortunately for you, you don't get to make up the rules for my overnights with The Smoodge. There is not a notification process stated in the divorce decree. I suppose it would be inconsiderate to let you know a day before or the day of, but seeing how she's only 2 yrs of age and not in school or part of Girl Scouts or a professional gymnastics team there really isn't much to discuss and it's only Thursday.

I did email you in regards to overnights stating I would take her overnights on the weekends I'm to have her. It's not my problem that you decided to take her out of town during my overnight weekend this month (Jan.). I will exercise my overnight with her, it is my right as her father and I have not seen The Smoodge in over 3 wks.

You should be concerned about her having a good relationship with BOTH PARENTS and ensuring she spend time with her father as well, but as always you let your own issues get in the way of your parenting.

You don't get to make up rules when you feel like it, We know you have difficulties following court orders, but a no show on Monday is in violation of the court order and a report will be filed if you fail to let me see her.

James,

I am not attempting to 'make up the rules for your overnights with The Smoodge.' I am simply abiding by the written agreement that you and I had in regards to when the overnights would occur. You were notified, and did agree to, The Smoodge and I being out of town for the dates that we were. You were aware that this included your weekend with her. I am confused as to why you are implying it is my problem that you failed to make plans accordingly.

I do realize the importance of The Smoodge spending time with her father. I have no problem with her spending time with you overnight on a weekend as we agreed to. What I would ask is that you value and respect the schedule that The Smoodge has during the week days, and the importance, even at the age of two, of sticking to that schedule.

That being said, I believe you are off this weekend. If you would like to have your overnight with her on Saturday night, perhaps beginning on Saturday at noon and continuing for a 24 hour period, that would be appropriate, and I am more than willing to agree to that.

Thank you.

I will pick her up on Monday.

This has got to be one of the most moronic things he could ever put into print. He just put into writing that he doesn't give a damn what goes on in The Smoodge's life, and that spending time with him should only be done when convenient for him. He's not interested in co-parenting, or the best interest of his daughter. And if you know me at all, the responses I had were NOT my first draft. Those were rewritten numerous time to cut out the 'rat bastard son of a bitch's' and 'whore mongering douche bag's'. Aren't you proud? I think I should get a gold star.

I don't want to move away from San Antonio. It's warm here. Kansas City did not put it's best foot forward when we were there for the holidays. It was cold. Ridiculously cold. Like, I'm surprised people are able to live there cold. I would take a shower, and linger just a few more minutes under the warm water, all the while thinking to myself, this is the last time I'm ever going to be warm again. Yes, the family is there, but there are up and downsides to that. If they could all move here, that would be great. Mostly it's the weather. Oh, and the job. I love my job. It works for the life I am currently living, and is willing to work around my life if I went back to school. I know that I could not find something up there with the pay and benefits as with what I have now. But that chain of emails? That would be crap I wouldn't have to deal with if I were to move. And that crap sucks so much of my will to live that it's a definite POSITIVE for getting out of here.

Oh, and the scheduling issue that doesn't make it ideal for her to stay the night with him? Not a big deal or anything. Just her THERAPY.

This May Be Rhetorical But...

2009-01-09T22:03:00.008-06:00

...should I be pissed about this?

Right leg.

Left leg.

Outside of left arm.

Inside of left arm.

Right arm.

Chin.

No, these are not crime scene photos. This is what The Smoodge looks like after a week, yes folks, that's FIVE DAYS, at her current daycare. Three of those injuries they had reported to me. The other three, I found on my own once I got her home. I know they are toddlers. I know toddlers are little ass holes. But this? Seriously?

I think I'm done. This has been going on for awhile now, with the biting and what not, and I just don't know what else to do. So. Anyone know of a good, decently priced daycare in San Antonio near the Quarry?

Not Listening

2009-01-09T16:16:00.002-06:00

I got myself one of those Happy Bunny daily calendar thingies. You know, the ones where each day has it's own witty commentary and picture? It's hilarious. It will also be used to title my blogs. Be prepared for the title and the subject to have nothing to do with each other. Unless I don't have anything else to write about, in which case I will derive inspiration from its sarcastic powers.

It's unbelievably hard to get back into the groove of this. To the point where it's beginning to intimidate me. I think what also intimidates me is that I am aware of who some of my audience is (hi Mom!), and it restricts some of the things I want to write about. The whole point of this was to be able to vent, to get things out of my head so it didn't cause my brain to explode through my eyeballs and splatter all over the monitor. Because most of the time I'm not blogging on my own equipment, but on someone else's, and that would be rude. Not only am I not working, but I'm also making a mess. But I digress. I'm not sure if I'll just make some posts private, and take a cue from her, or if I'll just say, you know what, you don't like it, don't read it. Or maybe I'll just disappear for awhile to avoid hurting any one's feelings. Meh.

So it's the new year right? Whoo-freaking-hoo. But seriously, everyone is all, what's your resolution, and for some reason, I keep hearing revolution, and I can't understand what everyone is all up in arms about. Then I realize, no no, reSolution, and can come out from under my desk because there won't be any musket balls headed my direction. Or bayonets. You don't see those nearly enough anymore. I think it would encourage people to be nicer to each other if everyone had their own bayonet to attach to their cell phones, or pencils, or even, in the case of The Smoodge, their chapstick. Yeah, I'll take that Nobel now. You're welcome.

What were we talking about? Oh yeah, resolutions. I don't have any. Seriously. And that makes me sad. I've become so wrapped up in my job, and The Smoodge, and not killing people, that I haven't had the mental capacity to better myself. And no, I will not make a resolution that I won't kill anyone this year. I can, however, resolve not to tell you about it if I do. Compromise, bitches.

Mostly the reason why I don't have any resolutions though is because I don't want to fail at any of them. And I know I will. I've had far too much failure caused by others in the last two years that no way am I going to set MYSELF up for them. So I guess I figure if I don't plan anything, I can't fail anything. And that has to be the dumbest fucking way to live your life. Ever. Even dumber than that time when you thought you could pick your nose in your car and no one would see you. Well, I saw you. And am judging you for it.

So I've decided to make a list of things that I want to do, and not limit myself to having completed them within the next year, but at least made REAL progression towards them this year (I have to clarify REAL because otherwise I will totally come back and say that blogging about them counted and it doesn't. But I can rationalize like a mo-fo). So, in no particular order of importance, except they were just the ones that popped into my head first, I present to you........................

My List of Crap That I Will Make REAL Progression Towards In 2009

1. Graduate from college with a degree in music.
Facebook kind of kicked me on the ass on this one. Living ignorant of those around you really helps to shield you from what you want out of life. But then I got back in touch with so many old friends and realized they are living the life that I want. Tools.
2. Lose a lot of weight.
I'm not going to tell you how much, because it's none of your damn business, nosey. But I will tell you that what spurned this on the most is going to a concert, jumping around, and coming to the realization that not all of your body is going in the same direction at the same time. Yeah.
3. Take a trip to another continent.
I know that seems random and weird and whatever, but these are my resolutions, not yours, and if I wanted your opinion, I'd give it to ya.

That's all I have for now. Those are kind of the most important. That, and I'm out of here in like 10 minutes, and I gotta wrap this bad boy up, so yeeaaaahhhh.... I think those are good for now.

The First of Many, I'm Sure

2008-12-18T00:18:00.002-06:00

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

2008-12-15T00:29:00.003-06:00

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

2008-12-12T16:43:00.002-06:00

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

2008-12-10T14:47:00.002-06:00

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

2008-12-09T21:15:00.002-06:00

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 2: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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

hehe

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 me...wow...it's a christmas miracle

MIA

2008-12-09T09:41:00.003-06:00

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. ;)

Struggling

2008-11-12T01:23:00.002-06:00

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 insane....at 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 what....you 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.

Alone

2008-11-07T16:40:00.005-06:00

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

2008-11-06T11:16:00.000-06:00

Don't say you haven't been warned.

Not Even a Little Bit

2008-11-03T11:21:00.002-06:00

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!

2008-10-31T15:47:00.001-05:00

My Little Butterfly Fairy

Is this thing still on?

2008-10-31T11:38:00.002-05:00

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!

2008-10-10T09:53:00.002-05:00

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

2008-10-09T20:34:00.003-05:00

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 this...just....smart 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

2008-10-08T20:44:00.009-05:00

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 breath..here 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.

Update

2008-10-05T13:17:00.003-05:00

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?

2008-09-28T12:48:00.003-05:00

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.

Bouts

2008-09-25T22:20:00.004-05:00

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

2008-09-24T21:26:00.002-05:00

*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?

2008-09-24T13:26:00.004-05:00

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

2008-09-23T19:53:00.002-05:00

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

2008-09-22T21:39:00.002-05:00

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...

2008-09-16T21:54:00.002-05:00

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!!!

2008-09-16T19:54:00.003-05:00

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!)...it 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

2008-08-13T21:35:00.003-05:00

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.

CHUPACABRA!

2008-08-12T15:47:00.003-05:00

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

2008-08-08T21:52:00.003-05:00

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!

Tears

2008-08-08T16:37:00.001-05:00

God

Actually Not My Fault!!!

2008-08-08T13:50:00.003-05:00

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

2008-08-08T11:48:00.000-05:00

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.

Sincerely,
Jo & Angie
(Joe Mama Angie Daddy)

Ranks Right Up There

2008-07-31T21:12:00.002-05:00

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

2008-07-31T15:32:00.004-05:00

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 pap-...my 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, and...just...wow. 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...

Woo-hoo!

2008-07-30T23:13:00.003-05:00

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

2008-07-30T16:24:00.004-05:00

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)
M-Bel

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)
Manbe

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

2008-07-29T12:11:00.002-05:00

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

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25896233/

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

2008-07-27T21:48:00.005-05:00

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

2008-07-26T13:36:00.002-05:00

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

2008-07-26T01:19:00.004-05:00

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 :)

TGIF

2008-07-25T16:15:00.002-05:00

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!...

..in 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

2008-07-24T23:41:00.003-05:00

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...now....soooooo 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

2008-07-23T23:39:00.003-05:00

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.