Pharmaceuticals To Make Life Better
Yesterday I had a Dr. appointment. No, not the head shrink Dr. I don’t go there anymore, just my regular GP. It was just a follow up visit to make sure the acid blockers (Prevacid) prescribed for my reflux are working – and they are. The visit took all of 5 minutes and in the 5 minutes that my Dr’s assistant spoke to me I became convince she was either smoking crack or one of those hippie homeopathic “Doctors” as she followed up her question of how well the prescription was working for me with this statement “I’m going to give you a prescription with 6 months of refills on it and then we’ll see about getting you off them completely.” I said “Uhhhh…” and luckily for me my expression said quite a bit (probably “Are you out of your fucking mind?”) because she said “I see you have doubts about getting off them.” I said “I’ve been on them for a long time… like 10 years or more.” And before I could add anything she said some shit about the makers of this delightful drug suggest people only stay on their drug for a certain amount of time, yadda, yadda, yadda. I don’t know what she said after that, my mind sort of blanked out and was full of vivid imagery of me plotting her death and my wondering what the hell kind of ‘doctor’ she was for wanting someone to be off a major pharmaceutical? Did the makers of my pills stop sending her gifts? Was she tired of the samples and pens they give? I wanted to tell her that unless the magical fairies had suddenly crapped a whole load of magical pixie dust on her giving her some special power to make my horrible reflux disappear that getting me off the Prevacid for good wasn’t in the cards. I’m not psychic but I’ve been off the pills before and it’s a little uncomfortable and somewhat painful for me. That is if you were to consider someone holding a blow torch to any part of your body for ‘uncomfortable’ and if by ‘painful’ you mean the feeling of your entire body being bitten by red ants – then my stomach is uncomfortable and painful without the medication. Me personally, I’d prefer to avoid all that, I’d prefer not to have my stomach acids boiling like an angry volcano and I’d definitely prefer to not have my stomach acids trying to eat a hole through my esophagus. I’m just funny like that. She’s out of her damn mind.
I figured the next visit in 6 months will have to be with my primary dr. and not this chick as I KNOW for a fact my primary Dr. is paid off by the drug companies – she’s the QUEEN of the samples! I have yet to visit her and not leave the office with out at least a 6 week supply of whatever she has on hand.
Moving on now…
Kindergarten Valentine’s
Today when Cabbage Patch got off the bus, she was nearly bursting with jubilation. It was quite cute. Her extreme enthusiasm was caused by none other than Valentine’s Day! To be exact, the fact that SHE HAD GOTTEN VALENTINES! AND! CANDY! I couldn’t help but laugh at her joy over her first school Valentine’s party and how great it was that she had a box full of cheap sappy pieces of paper and some crappy candy (and a temporary tattoo!). It was the cutest thing in the whole fucking world. Damn she’ll be funny when she has her first boyfriend… which is not going to happen until she’s 20... or 30. Sheesh… I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth.
Valentine’s Part II Blame The Man
K relayed this story that brought tears to my eyes. Tears of pride in my tiny little girls. Pride that the genetics of being a WOMAN have taken hold in my offspring. When K got home from work – shortly after they went to bed, he went upstairs to tell them to quiet down, go to bed and good night. The first thing they asked was if he got them a Valentine. His completely incorrect response was “I thought your mother handled that, didn’t she buy some chocolates yesterday.” Super Girl responded “*sigh* Those were for school dad.” She’s only just now 8 and she already knows it’s the mans fault… always.
As for me, well I really didn’t expect BOB to go shopping for me. I did however give him some fresh batteries. ;-) And nothing says love like BOB with fresh batteries.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Birthday Survived…
Somehow Super Girl survived her birthday despite the intense amounts of whining that happened and her really horrible smart assed attitude I swear, if she answered me with "But It's MY birthday!" one more time, I'd be looking for a place to hide her body right now.
This next part of hell, I blame on K because it was HIS idea. We took the Tiny Terrorists to Super Target last night so Super Girl (AKA Destruction of Chaos and Destruction) could choose her present. While he braved the pink and purple ales of girl toys I took the cart and the Cabbage Patch (AKA Chaos) off to find a few items I needed. Then the real torture began.
As I pushed the cart away from the hypnotic pink and purple section, Chaos began chanting "I want a toy" over and over like a little robot. A little whiny robot. Using my super human mother skills, I blocked out most of the whining to until it was just a dull hum in the back ground.
After picking up the things I needed, I headed to the bakery section to check out the selections of birthday cakes. Usually I let her select her own cake, but seeing as there was a rather small selection of cakes I felt confident in selecting one and not giving her the option of the frightening looking cupcakes with small plastic toys nestled in rainbow icing. Then came the HARD part, though I didn't imagine that it would be. I wanted 'Happy Birthday Destruction' (well her actual name) written on the cake. I ask someone hovering around the bakery/deli area if someone could write on the cake for me. He looked at me blankly and said he'd ask someone. He went to ask someone then came back to tell me that the person who could write on the cake was on her dinner break. I looked at him, expecting him to start laughing and say he was joking any second... but he didn't so I said "No one else can write on the cake?" Again with the blank stare. Then he saw the store manager walking through so he called him over and told him my situation. Seeing the store manager I had a tiny spark of hope upon seeing his pretty red shirt and big boy badge. That was false hope though, it often feels much like REAL hope but then kind of tastes like you just threw up in your mouth. The store manager was apparently reading off the same script as the other worker; he told me that the girl who could write on cakes was on her dinner break. So I asked him the same question "No one else can write on the cake?" and he said "Well they probably could but it might not look good." I started to get pissed right then, I cut him a look that should have made his brain explode had he possessed one and asked him sternly "Can you at least put something on the cake? A Barbie something or those Disney Princess rings?" He grudgingly said yes and took the cake. When he came back it had 4 little plastic Disney Princess rings on top of it. At first I was thrilled, and then I saw that it was two sets of the same rings. Not going to work… Chaos and Destruction have been brain washed by the Disney Industry and they identify themselves by two certain princesses (in fact Chaos at that very moment was asking if one of the rings was HER princess). I asked the manager if these were the only ones they had. He started to say yes but I guess the semi-homicidal look on my face made him reconsider, and he handed over the bag of plastic rings to me mumbling something about me just taking what I wanted. And I did.
I had no idea that it took a fucking degree to write on a cake. Who knew?
K suffered through the pink and purple section and met us at the check out with Destruction holding up the latest and greatest offering by Mattel triumphantly. Ahhh a rainbow fairy Barbie something. I shouldn't have been surprised by that being that she was shopping with her gay daddy.
And finally it was over. In a sugar coated cloud of rainbow Barbie princess madness it was over and the kids were in bed.
Somehow Super Girl survived her birthday despite the intense amounts of whining that happened and her really horrible smart assed attitude I swear, if she answered me with "But It's MY birthday!" one more time, I'd be looking for a place to hide her body right now.
This next part of hell, I blame on K because it was HIS idea. We took the Tiny Terrorists to Super Target last night so Super Girl (AKA Destruction of Chaos and Destruction) could choose her present. While he braved the pink and purple ales of girl toys I took the cart and the Cabbage Patch (AKA Chaos) off to find a few items I needed. Then the real torture began.
As I pushed the cart away from the hypnotic pink and purple section, Chaos began chanting "I want a toy" over and over like a little robot. A little whiny robot. Using my super human mother skills, I blocked out most of the whining to until it was just a dull hum in the back ground.
After picking up the things I needed, I headed to the bakery section to check out the selections of birthday cakes. Usually I let her select her own cake, but seeing as there was a rather small selection of cakes I felt confident in selecting one and not giving her the option of the frightening looking cupcakes with small plastic toys nestled in rainbow icing. Then came the HARD part, though I didn't imagine that it would be. I wanted 'Happy Birthday Destruction' (well her actual name) written on the cake. I ask someone hovering around the bakery/deli area if someone could write on the cake for me. He looked at me blankly and said he'd ask someone. He went to ask someone then came back to tell me that the person who could write on the cake was on her dinner break. I looked at him, expecting him to start laughing and say he was joking any second... but he didn't so I said "No one else can write on the cake?" Again with the blank stare. Then he saw the store manager walking through so he called him over and told him my situation. Seeing the store manager I had a tiny spark of hope upon seeing his pretty red shirt and big boy badge. That was false hope though, it often feels much like REAL hope but then kind of tastes like you just threw up in your mouth. The store manager was apparently reading off the same script as the other worker; he told me that the girl who could write on cakes was on her dinner break. So I asked him the same question "No one else can write on the cake?" and he said "Well they probably could but it might not look good." I started to get pissed right then, I cut him a look that should have made his brain explode had he possessed one and asked him sternly "Can you at least put something on the cake? A Barbie something or those Disney Princess rings?" He grudgingly said yes and took the cake. When he came back it had 4 little plastic Disney Princess rings on top of it. At first I was thrilled, and then I saw that it was two sets of the same rings. Not going to work… Chaos and Destruction have been brain washed by the Disney Industry and they identify themselves by two certain princesses (in fact Chaos at that very moment was asking if one of the rings was HER princess). I asked the manager if these were the only ones they had. He started to say yes but I guess the semi-homicidal look on my face made him reconsider, and he handed over the bag of plastic rings to me mumbling something about me just taking what I wanted. And I did.
I had no idea that it took a fucking degree to write on a cake. Who knew?
K suffered through the pink and purple section and met us at the check out with Destruction holding up the latest and greatest offering by Mattel triumphantly. Ahhh a rainbow fairy Barbie something. I shouldn't have been surprised by that being that she was shopping with her gay daddy.
And finally it was over. In a sugar coated cloud of rainbow Barbie princess madness it was over and the kids were in bed.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
It’s My Party And I’ll Whine If I Want Too…
Holy shit! What the hell happened to my child? Why the hell is she whining and being a BRAT?? And when I told her she had to sit in time out for back talking me she looked right at me and said “No! It’s my birthday!” to which I responded “Keep that up and your birthday will be over right now.” Well whatever, she’s in the corner right now cursing me mentally for being such a bitch on her birthday. Which is fine because I’m mentally envisioning her tightly duct taped to the wall. It’s all good.
On to other things…
Last night at dinner the waitress came to the table to get our order and immediately commented on my hair and asked me if it was naturally red to which I answered that it wasn’t. For the next 5 minutes she asked me questions on how I keep it so fabulously red and I gave her coloring tips and suggestions. Then she took our order. My date thought this was quite funny. Later when my date asked for some egg rolls she was more than happy to bring them as well as more rice and anything else we needed. My date started teasing me that the waitress had a crush on me which prompted me to laugh and tell him to shut up. When we were leaving the waitress yells “Thanks for the tips!... I mean the hair care tips!” and more snickers and jibes from the date. A surreal moment.
Dr. Offices Suck!
I had a follow up visit with my Dr. just to check that my prescription is working well (and it is). I waited 20 minutes before I got called into the office – that was fine, my appointment was at 3 pm and I went in right at 3 pm. Then I waited 43 minutes before the dr. came in, and the visit lasted less than 10 minutes. I was back in my car by 3:50 pm. Crazy.
I need a nap.
Holy shit! What the hell happened to my child? Why the hell is she whining and being a BRAT?? And when I told her she had to sit in time out for back talking me she looked right at me and said “No! It’s my birthday!” to which I responded “Keep that up and your birthday will be over right now.” Well whatever, she’s in the corner right now cursing me mentally for being such a bitch on her birthday. Which is fine because I’m mentally envisioning her tightly duct taped to the wall. It’s all good.
On to other things…
Last night at dinner the waitress came to the table to get our order and immediately commented on my hair and asked me if it was naturally red to which I answered that it wasn’t. For the next 5 minutes she asked me questions on how I keep it so fabulously red and I gave her coloring tips and suggestions. Then she took our order. My date thought this was quite funny. Later when my date asked for some egg rolls she was more than happy to bring them as well as more rice and anything else we needed. My date started teasing me that the waitress had a crush on me which prompted me to laugh and tell him to shut up. When we were leaving the waitress yells “Thanks for the tips!... I mean the hair care tips!” and more snickers and jibes from the date. A surreal moment.
Dr. Offices Suck!
I had a follow up visit with my Dr. just to check that my prescription is working well (and it is). I waited 20 minutes before I got called into the office – that was fine, my appointment was at 3 pm and I went in right at 3 pm. Then I waited 43 minutes before the dr. came in, and the visit lasted less than 10 minutes. I was back in my car by 3:50 pm. Crazy.
I need a nap.
More Random Crap Cluttering Up My Brain
Super Girl turned 8 this morning. 8 years of being a mom. How the fuck did that happen? She wore the “Birthday Girl” pin to school today. It’s a tradition here. Everyone (except K) wears the button on their birthday. I was going to surprise her and put it on her this morning, but she started asking about it before I could even start to look for it. It’s cute… to me.
She had a breakfast of cookies because damn it, she wanted that and who the hell am I to deprive her of a cookie breakfast on her birthday? I sent a box of Girl Scout cookies to school with her to be shared with her class for her birthday. Tonight will be birthday cake (she already requested that this morning), but come on, aren’t birthdays all about the sugar rush? Well that’s what I’m looking forward to.
Speaking of children, as much as I’m in shock that I’ve been doing this mom thing for 8 years, I’m still stunned that my best friend has a brand new bambino. It seemed like that baby would never be born and now that she’s here, well it’s just not real yet. Super Girl mentioned the other day that she was mildly disappointed that Miss Shana’s baby wasn’t born on her birthday. Kids.
And now, before you all start to throw up in your mouths; I’ll stop talking about kids…
Is it a coincidence that my neighbor is just a tad friendlier to me since he saw me letting Coco out a few weeks ago at 4:30 am in my nightgown? Don’t give me that look. It was 4:30 am, how was I to know that he’d be out on his porch smoking a cigarette? No one in their right mind is up at 4:30 am – I mean other than small white puffy dogs trying to make me crazy. I think I really need to start wearing clothes around the house from now on, as much as it may disappoint the UPS guy.
D just got back from China. With GIFTS. And knowledge. I now know how to say “Shut up” in Chinese. She told me a couple of other interesting and fun insulting phrases, but I can’t remember them. One of the coolest things she brought back is this most awesome ceramic cricket! I LOVE it! I’ve always wanted a ceramic cricket – really, I have. It’s so cute; I have no idea where to put it so it’s in a box by the monitor and I open it up to pet it several times a day. What? Stop looking at me like that!
My new favorite movie! OVER THE HEDGE! I love, love, love that movie. I love Hammy the squirrel. I am a red squirrel. *hearts and stars spinning around head for squirrel love*
I’ve been reading lately. No! Really! I have! I know it’s hard to imagine me doing that, but I do. I finished a book in early January and then another one and then I started this book that I’m reading now – I’m almost done with this book but it’s a fucking struggle to finish it. Because it’s so fucked up! And THAT is what is compelling me to FINISH the book. I wont’ tell you what book it is because I don’t want anyone to tell me the ending or worse to laugh at me just yet (no it’s not one of the Dick and Jane books, I’m WAY beyond that reading level fuckers). But I’ll finish it soon and post an all important REVIEW!!
Wow… cookies for breakfast really do rock. Off to shower.
Super Girl turned 8 this morning. 8 years of being a mom. How the fuck did that happen? She wore the “Birthday Girl” pin to school today. It’s a tradition here. Everyone (except K) wears the button on their birthday. I was going to surprise her and put it on her this morning, but she started asking about it before I could even start to look for it. It’s cute… to me.
She had a breakfast of cookies because damn it, she wanted that and who the hell am I to deprive her of a cookie breakfast on her birthday? I sent a box of Girl Scout cookies to school with her to be shared with her class for her birthday. Tonight will be birthday cake (she already requested that this morning), but come on, aren’t birthdays all about the sugar rush? Well that’s what I’m looking forward to.
Speaking of children, as much as I’m in shock that I’ve been doing this mom thing for 8 years, I’m still stunned that my best friend has a brand new bambino. It seemed like that baby would never be born and now that she’s here, well it’s just not real yet. Super Girl mentioned the other day that she was mildly disappointed that Miss Shana’s baby wasn’t born on her birthday. Kids.
And now, before you all start to throw up in your mouths; I’ll stop talking about kids…
Is it a coincidence that my neighbor is just a tad friendlier to me since he saw me letting Coco out a few weeks ago at 4:30 am in my nightgown? Don’t give me that look. It was 4:30 am, how was I to know that he’d be out on his porch smoking a cigarette? No one in their right mind is up at 4:30 am – I mean other than small white puffy dogs trying to make me crazy. I think I really need to start wearing clothes around the house from now on, as much as it may disappoint the UPS guy.
D just got back from China. With GIFTS. And knowledge. I now know how to say “Shut up” in Chinese. She told me a couple of other interesting and fun insulting phrases, but I can’t remember them. One of the coolest things she brought back is this most awesome ceramic cricket! I LOVE it! I’ve always wanted a ceramic cricket – really, I have. It’s so cute; I have no idea where to put it so it’s in a box by the monitor and I open it up to pet it several times a day. What? Stop looking at me like that!
My new favorite movie! OVER THE HEDGE! I love, love, love that movie. I love Hammy the squirrel. I am a red squirrel. *hearts and stars spinning around head for squirrel love*
I’ve been reading lately. No! Really! I have! I know it’s hard to imagine me doing that, but I do. I finished a book in early January and then another one and then I started this book that I’m reading now – I’m almost done with this book but it’s a fucking struggle to finish it. Because it’s so fucked up! And THAT is what is compelling me to FINISH the book. I wont’ tell you what book it is because I don’t want anyone to tell me the ending or worse to laugh at me just yet (no it’s not one of the Dick and Jane books, I’m WAY beyond that reading level fuckers). But I’ll finish it soon and post an all important REVIEW!!
Wow… cookies for breakfast really do rock. Off to shower.
Because I Lack Any Time For Anything Interesting To Say
Me? Go figure!
I need a partner who can worship me for the hottie that I am - That's gotta be my favorite line.
Leo Since you are such an attention craver, you are into wearing the sexiest clothes and going straight for the sexiest person in the room. You like secure people who are genuine and have a good fashion sense. In bed, you like to get all of the attention, so you need a partner who can worship you for the hottie that you are. You like to dance and strip for your partner and you enjoy buying the sexiest lingere for yourself. Sex matches: Aries, Sagittarius, Libra Take this quiz at QuizUniverse.com |
Me? Go figure!
I need a partner who can worship me for the hottie that I am - That's gotta be my favorite line.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Random Thoughts
I think my oldest doesn’t like her birthday or something. Every year right before her birthday Super Girl becomes Super Brat. I don’t understand this. Out of the 7 birthdays she’s had, I’ve canceled two of them two years in a row. She’s very, very close to having her 8th birthday canceled due to extreme brattyness and she’s only got 5 more days until her birthday.
Correction on the Dead Gerbil post: The wishes followed on the gerbil burial were the wishes of Cabbage Patch not the deceased gerbil who did not have a will and at the time of his horrible demise had not verbalized his wishes for burial or otherwise.
Peanuts. Does anyone actually LIKE that comic/cartoon? I absolutely despise each and EVERY one of their holiday specials. The best thing about growing up was not EVER having to watch another Peanuts holiday special. Okay maybe that’s not the BEST part of being a grown up… Being able to buy booze and having sex and not having a curfew and… well you get the picture… but not having to watch that crap is still damn good.
Why is dating so fucking difficult? No really, WHY? Why do the few guys I DO like seem to lose interest after the first date? And WHY do all the other guys I want to forget me continue to pursue me almost to the point of needing a restraining order or a witness protection order? (some idiot is messaging me at this very moment) Honestly are there any nice, intelligent, good looking, straight men out there who aren’t just out for sex and want to date me (believe me, the freaky sex will come to those who wait)? Maybe I should just join a convent… oh wait… I’m Jewish.
I think the lone male gerbil is lonely… or maybe he’s a bit psychotic and he’s pondering how he murdered Spike.
Where the hell did the warm weather go? Yesterday I was walking around in shorts and a t-shirt and today, well today I damn near froze my ass off in my shorts when I took Coco out.
And that is all. The End.
PS - the best insult in the world is to call someone a TWAT, as in "(fill in the name) is a TWAT." Thank you Savol for putting it in perspective and giving me a giggle.
I think my oldest doesn’t like her birthday or something. Every year right before her birthday Super Girl becomes Super Brat. I don’t understand this. Out of the 7 birthdays she’s had, I’ve canceled two of them two years in a row. She’s very, very close to having her 8th birthday canceled due to extreme brattyness and she’s only got 5 more days until her birthday.
Correction on the Dead Gerbil post: The wishes followed on the gerbil burial were the wishes of Cabbage Patch not the deceased gerbil who did not have a will and at the time of his horrible demise had not verbalized his wishes for burial or otherwise.
Peanuts. Does anyone actually LIKE that comic/cartoon? I absolutely despise each and EVERY one of their holiday specials. The best thing about growing up was not EVER having to watch another Peanuts holiday special. Okay maybe that’s not the BEST part of being a grown up… Being able to buy booze and having sex and not having a curfew and… well you get the picture… but not having to watch that crap is still damn good.
Why is dating so fucking difficult? No really, WHY? Why do the few guys I DO like seem to lose interest after the first date? And WHY do all the other guys I want to forget me continue to pursue me almost to the point of needing a restraining order or a witness protection order? (some idiot is messaging me at this very moment) Honestly are there any nice, intelligent, good looking, straight men out there who aren’t just out for sex and want to date me (believe me, the freaky sex will come to those who wait)? Maybe I should just join a convent… oh wait… I’m Jewish.
I think the lone male gerbil is lonely… or maybe he’s a bit psychotic and he’s pondering how he murdered Spike.
Where the hell did the warm weather go? Yesterday I was walking around in shorts and a t-shirt and today, well today I damn near froze my ass off in my shorts when I took Coco out.
And that is all. The End.
PS - the best insult in the world is to call someone a TWAT, as in "(fill in the name) is a TWAT." Thank you Savol for putting it in perspective and giving me a giggle.
How To Get Searched At The Airport
This past weekend I ventured to Houston to attend Queen Mystic’s Super Bowl Party. K procured tickets for me from his adorable boyfriend who is employed at a major carrier and could get me a good price on the ticket (i.e. FREE).
Saturday morning I got up at the obscene hour of 4:25 am to shower and get packed (oh like you don’t wait until the last minute also) and be ready to leave casa de Karmically Challenged at 6:45 am to arrive at the airport by 7:15 am. Moments before we left I had this brilliant idea to put the things I needed into a new purse instead of cleaning out the old purse that contained many extraneous items that probably wouldn’t make it through airport security (as in the small bottle of vodka – Absolute I think, (oddly enough it came from an airplane and was gifted to me by D after one of her many trips abroad), the cute pink flask of tasty loki with my name on the front of it (Judypooh), the various packets of ketchup, jelly and taco sauce deposited there by my offspring, I’m sure there is probably a knife – possibly plastic, possibly metal -, a spork and the makings of some kind of explosive with detailed instructions any 5 year old could understand also deposited there by my progeny). Part way to the airport I discovered that my brilliant idea might have been really great if I had actually put things in my purse that I’d really need – as it was I only had my driver’s license, $15, lipstick, a book, house keys, some mints and a Starbucks card – because, come on, who really needs a debit card when you have a Starbucks card with $15 on it??? That’s like 4.5 lattes!
K deposited me at the airport and I kissed the family then waved them off as I headed to catch my flight. First stop, the ticket counter to collect my tickets from Will Call. I approached the counter and told the clerk that my tickets were in Will Call and gave her the confirmation number K had passed along to me. She tapped something in the computer and stared at it asking me if I had my tickets because she had my reservations but I needed tickets. I looked at her and considered panicking but decided not to as K had informed me on the way to the airport that he had left his phone at home so hopefully I wouldn’t have any problems. BASTARD! Fine. After 5 minutes of exchange and bewildered looks, I again mentioned Will Call and my tickets being there (actually it was the third time I mentioned it) her mental light bulb went off and she said “Oh why didn’t you say so. Will Call is different.” And before I could give her the bitch slap she deserved she disappeared behind a door to search for the tickets. Ms. Clerk took entirely too long to find the tickets but finally did reappear all smiles and sunshine and directed me to head for security.
And now the real fun part happens! I followed the other passengers to the security line like grazing cattle and presented the first security person with proof that I should be in the line at all – my ticket and my driver’s license. The security person looked at the ticket and then at the license, then looked at me then back at the documents. I smiled back, anxious to get through this and get on my flight. Then she said “Do you have up to date identification?” I said no and wondered how in the world she knew that the address was incorrect on my license (yes I am blond at times). She said okay and told me to go to Lane 1. Lane 1 was a shorter security line so I was happy to go there. I followed a couple of other people to that lane and casually looked down at my license to compare it to my ticket and at that moment I realized that my damned license is expired! Shit! I shoved everything back in my purse and put it and my boots, and my coat into the plastic bin and put my luggage on the belt next to the bin. Then I proceeded to prove to airport security that I’m a total ‘tard because I can’t go through the metal detector right. After my second walk through the metal detector I was told that due to my license being out of date I had to be searched as well as my bags. Oh FUN! How was I to know that an expired driver’s license is a sure sign of being a member of Al-Qaeda?
I stepped aside with two security officers and got politely felt up by the female officer while the male looked on and prepared to paw through all my belongings. Dude, it’s all good – I hadn’t had a date in a couple of weeks so it was like a double date for a moment. As I watched them go through my belongings I was hit with a pang of regret that I hadn’t packed anything more interesting than a couple of books and some lipstick. I suddenly wished I had a bag full of batteries, vibrators, whips and hand cuffs so I could smile knowingly and mumble “business trip” to their curious looks. But no, nothing so exciting as that – not even garb as I chose not to garb because I didn’t want to have to deal with the extra weight in my bag. Bad planning on my part. And then it was over, no phone number, no thank you, no ‘call me sometime’, just ‘have a nice flight’. I’ve had dates like that before, just not usually felt up in public at an airport nor has it ever happened so quickly. Bastards.
After my encounter with the security people, I raced to my gate having realized that all this fun left me with a mere 10 minutes to get to the gate. No worries though, I got there and on the plane right away then I text messaged K “I got searched!” and turned off my phone. I figured that would give him something to think about for the next hour.
This past weekend I ventured to Houston to attend Queen Mystic’s Super Bowl Party. K procured tickets for me from his adorable boyfriend who is employed at a major carrier and could get me a good price on the ticket (i.e. FREE).
Saturday morning I got up at the obscene hour of 4:25 am to shower and get packed (oh like you don’t wait until the last minute also) and be ready to leave casa de Karmically Challenged at 6:45 am to arrive at the airport by 7:15 am. Moments before we left I had this brilliant idea to put the things I needed into a new purse instead of cleaning out the old purse that contained many extraneous items that probably wouldn’t make it through airport security (as in the small bottle of vodka – Absolute I think, (oddly enough it came from an airplane and was gifted to me by D after one of her many trips abroad), the cute pink flask of tasty loki with my name on the front of it (Judypooh), the various packets of ketchup, jelly and taco sauce deposited there by my offspring, I’m sure there is probably a knife – possibly plastic, possibly metal -, a spork and the makings of some kind of explosive with detailed instructions any 5 year old could understand also deposited there by my progeny). Part way to the airport I discovered that my brilliant idea might have been really great if I had actually put things in my purse that I’d really need – as it was I only had my driver’s license, $15, lipstick, a book, house keys, some mints and a Starbucks card – because, come on, who really needs a debit card when you have a Starbucks card with $15 on it??? That’s like 4.5 lattes!
K deposited me at the airport and I kissed the family then waved them off as I headed to catch my flight. First stop, the ticket counter to collect my tickets from Will Call. I approached the counter and told the clerk that my tickets were in Will Call and gave her the confirmation number K had passed along to me. She tapped something in the computer and stared at it asking me if I had my tickets because she had my reservations but I needed tickets. I looked at her and considered panicking but decided not to as K had informed me on the way to the airport that he had left his phone at home so hopefully I wouldn’t have any problems. BASTARD! Fine. After 5 minutes of exchange and bewildered looks, I again mentioned Will Call and my tickets being there (actually it was the third time I mentioned it) her mental light bulb went off and she said “Oh why didn’t you say so. Will Call is different.” And before I could give her the bitch slap she deserved she disappeared behind a door to search for the tickets. Ms. Clerk took entirely too long to find the tickets but finally did reappear all smiles and sunshine and directed me to head for security.
And now the real fun part happens! I followed the other passengers to the security line like grazing cattle and presented the first security person with proof that I should be in the line at all – my ticket and my driver’s license. The security person looked at the ticket and then at the license, then looked at me then back at the documents. I smiled back, anxious to get through this and get on my flight. Then she said “Do you have up to date identification?” I said no and wondered how in the world she knew that the address was incorrect on my license (yes I am blond at times). She said okay and told me to go to Lane 1. Lane 1 was a shorter security line so I was happy to go there. I followed a couple of other people to that lane and casually looked down at my license to compare it to my ticket and at that moment I realized that my damned license is expired! Shit! I shoved everything back in my purse and put it and my boots, and my coat into the plastic bin and put my luggage on the belt next to the bin. Then I proceeded to prove to airport security that I’m a total ‘tard because I can’t go through the metal detector right. After my second walk through the metal detector I was told that due to my license being out of date I had to be searched as well as my bags. Oh FUN! How was I to know that an expired driver’s license is a sure sign of being a member of Al-Qaeda?
I stepped aside with two security officers and got politely felt up by the female officer while the male looked on and prepared to paw through all my belongings. Dude, it’s all good – I hadn’t had a date in a couple of weeks so it was like a double date for a moment. As I watched them go through my belongings I was hit with a pang of regret that I hadn’t packed anything more interesting than a couple of books and some lipstick. I suddenly wished I had a bag full of batteries, vibrators, whips and hand cuffs so I could smile knowingly and mumble “business trip” to their curious looks. But no, nothing so exciting as that – not even garb as I chose not to garb because I didn’t want to have to deal with the extra weight in my bag. Bad planning on my part. And then it was over, no phone number, no thank you, no ‘call me sometime’, just ‘have a nice flight’. I’ve had dates like that before, just not usually felt up in public at an airport nor has it ever happened so quickly. Bastards.
After my encounter with the security people, I raced to my gate having realized that all this fun left me with a mere 10 minutes to get to the gate. No worries though, I got there and on the plane right away then I text messaged K “I got searched!” and turned off my phone. I figured that would give him something to think about for the next hour.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Dead Gerbils Are No Fun
So it’s done, I told the wee child of the demise of her gerbil. After a brief discussion with K I decided to go with the cold hard truth as he was unwilling to come up with a good lie. Not that really mattered, the whole thing went like this:
Me: Cabbage Patch, I have something to tell you.
Her: What?
Me: Look in the gerbil cage and tell me what’s missing.
Her: The food?
Me: No.
Her: *looking more closely* The water?
Me: No. *rolling eyes and cursing her father for her getting his observation skills*
Her: Da wheel?
Me: No, no, no. That’s all in there. Your gerbil. He’s dead.
Her: *looking at me with surprise* He’s dead.
Me: Yeah honey. Spike is dead. *pulls her into a hug*
Her: *muffled sniffles*
Me: It’s okay honey. *getting teary eyed*
Her: *looking up at me* Can I see him?
Me: Umm… no, it’s gross.
Her and her sister: I wanna see. It won’t be gross.
Me: NO. It’s GROSS.
Her: Can I get a new gerbil?
Me: Um… yeah, I guess.
Her: Okay, can I play outside now?
And that was the end of that. K buried the corpse in a small soap box under a tree by the creek per her instructions (actually she wanted it buried much closer to home but that just seemed a bit to creepy for me.
So it’s done, I told the wee child of the demise of her gerbil. After a brief discussion with K I decided to go with the cold hard truth as he was unwilling to come up with a good lie. Not that really mattered, the whole thing went like this:
Me: Cabbage Patch, I have something to tell you.
Her: What?
Me: Look in the gerbil cage and tell me what’s missing.
Her: The food?
Me: No.
Her: *looking more closely* The water?
Me: No. *rolling eyes and cursing her father for her getting his observation skills*
Her: Da wheel?
Me: No, no, no. That’s all in there. Your gerbil. He’s dead.
Her: *looking at me with surprise* He’s dead.
Me: Yeah honey. Spike is dead. *pulls her into a hug*
Her: *muffled sniffles*
Me: It’s okay honey. *getting teary eyed*
Her: *looking up at me* Can I see him?
Me: Umm… no, it’s gross.
Her and her sister: I wanna see. It won’t be gross.
Me: NO. It’s GROSS.
Her: Can I get a new gerbil?
Me: Um… yeah, I guess.
Her: Okay, can I play outside now?
And that was the end of that. K buried the corpse in a small soap box under a tree by the creek per her instructions (actually she wanted it buried much closer to home but that just seemed a bit to creepy for me.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
To Tell The Truth or Make A Fantastic Lie?
Which should I do? I’m completely torn. I’m a terribly truthful person but I’m in a quandary as to what I should do at this very moment. I just discovered Cabbage Patch’s gerbil quite dead. EWWWW! Now I’m not certain if I should tell her and let my tiny 5 year old experience grief for the first time or if I should concoct a fabulous tale and have K purchase a replacement Spike.
Internet if I ever needed you it’s RIGHT NOW! Give me your input! I have until 4 pm to decide what to do about this dead gerbil problem. Do I tell her Spike has gone to the big running wheel in the sky or do I tell her that her daddy took Spike to the vet for a check up?
Which should I do? I’m completely torn. I’m a terribly truthful person but I’m in a quandary as to what I should do at this very moment. I just discovered Cabbage Patch’s gerbil quite dead. EWWWW! Now I’m not certain if I should tell her and let my tiny 5 year old experience grief for the first time or if I should concoct a fabulous tale and have K purchase a replacement Spike.
Internet if I ever needed you it’s RIGHT NOW! Give me your input! I have until 4 pm to decide what to do about this dead gerbil problem. Do I tell her Spike has gone to the big running wheel in the sky or do I tell her that her daddy took Spike to the vet for a check up?
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Flashbacks At Starbucks While Waiting To Steal A Car
D and I went to Starbucks yesterday morning to celebrate Groundhog Day. Just kidding, I don’t give a crap about those oversized rats, we just went for coffee. What I didn’t realize was that it was RETRO day at that Starbucks. The decade was the 1980’s. There was the chick with the shitty geometric hair cut and equally crappy tattoos, then Mr. Poodle hair making me remember all those guys back in the 80’s with bad perms. Before I could even stop snicker at that in walks Neil Diamond (black leather jacket and bald spot included) followed by none other than Gary Coleman accompanied by Sally Struthers – it’s heart warming to see that she’s still very involved in feeding the children… as well as herself. Then in walks Mary Lou Retton. I’m going to have to get a job at that Starbucks so I can relive the 80’s at least once a week.
Then we left, we walked out to D’s car parked right out front. Upon opening the door to her car I was shocked by an apparently empty McDonald’s bag and half a dozen Riccola cough drops occupying my seat. I thought “We didn’t go to McDonald’s… Riccola? She didn’t have those in the car…” about that time D says “This isn’t my car!” We both start laughing as we close the door and go AROUND the corner to D’s car, all the while musing over why anyone would leave a Mercedes Benz unlocked outside a Starbucks.
Later this conversation took place:
Her: I’ve decided I’m just taking two sets of bra and panties and that’s it.
Me: hmmm… Well I’m glad to hear you are going to make this a working vacation.
Okay, I’m off to wake up everyone and get on to the airport! Have a fabulous weekend everyone!
D and I went to Starbucks yesterday morning to celebrate Groundhog Day. Just kidding, I don’t give a crap about those oversized rats, we just went for coffee. What I didn’t realize was that it was RETRO day at that Starbucks. The decade was the 1980’s. There was the chick with the shitty geometric hair cut and equally crappy tattoos, then Mr. Poodle hair making me remember all those guys back in the 80’s with bad perms. Before I could even stop snicker at that in walks Neil Diamond (black leather jacket and bald spot included) followed by none other than Gary Coleman accompanied by Sally Struthers – it’s heart warming to see that she’s still very involved in feeding the children… as well as herself. Then in walks Mary Lou Retton. I’m going to have to get a job at that Starbucks so I can relive the 80’s at least once a week.
Then we left, we walked out to D’s car parked right out front. Upon opening the door to her car I was shocked by an apparently empty McDonald’s bag and half a dozen Riccola cough drops occupying my seat. I thought “We didn’t go to McDonald’s… Riccola? She didn’t have those in the car…” about that time D says “This isn’t my car!” We both start laughing as we close the door and go AROUND the corner to D’s car, all the while musing over why anyone would leave a Mercedes Benz unlocked outside a Starbucks.
Later this conversation took place:
Her: I’ve decided I’m just taking two sets of bra and panties and that’s it.
Me: hmmm… Well I’m glad to hear you are going to make this a working vacation.
Okay, I’m off to wake up everyone and get on to the airport! Have a fabulous weekend everyone!
Friday, February 02, 2007
Excitement From The Heavens
This morning the Little People were blown away by what they saw outside. SNOW! You would have thought that the jolly fat guy who handles that tree holiday had made a second visit to them and left them the keys to the warehouse for Toys R Us. I’m not a huge fan of this SNOW stuff as it’s usually just a big pain in the butt what with it being COLD and WET and how it’s accompanied with nasty ICE that makes driving hazardous and WORST of all how it usually causes the SCHOOLS TO CLOSE! Today’s SNOW is an exception, I doubt it’ll last all day and though there are some slick spots on the road, it appears that it’s not all that bad out there and best of all – the SCHOOLS ARE OPEN! YAY!!!!
Ahhhh now if only I had some hot chocolate, Amaretto and a certain sexy man to snuggle with – this day would be PERFECT.
Enjoy some photos I took this morning (in my bathrobe and slippers no less!).
See all that excitement???
This is why I moved where I live - I love this view... if only I had known that in the spring and summer it's COVERED in poison ivy of which Super Girl and I are terribly allergic... well that view wouldn't have been so tempting!
Because I just HAD to show yet another photo of La Seg's offspring! This is how she USUALLY looks! Such a good baby.
This morning the Little People were blown away by what they saw outside. SNOW! You would have thought that the jolly fat guy who handles that tree holiday had made a second visit to them and left them the keys to the warehouse for Toys R Us. I’m not a huge fan of this SNOW stuff as it’s usually just a big pain in the butt what with it being COLD and WET and how it’s accompanied with nasty ICE that makes driving hazardous and WORST of all how it usually causes the SCHOOLS TO CLOSE! Today’s SNOW is an exception, I doubt it’ll last all day and though there are some slick spots on the road, it appears that it’s not all that bad out there and best of all – the SCHOOLS ARE OPEN! YAY!!!!
Ahhhh now if only I had some hot chocolate, Amaretto and a certain sexy man to snuggle with – this day would be PERFECT.
Enjoy some photos I took this morning (in my bathrobe and slippers no less!).
See all that excitement???
This is why I moved where I live - I love this view... if only I had known that in the spring and summer it's COVERED in poison ivy of which Super Girl and I are terribly allergic... well that view wouldn't have been so tempting!
Because I just HAD to show yet another photo of La Seg's offspring! This is how she USUALLY looks! Such a good baby.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Baby Photo!!!
She's so beautiful!!! (yes I did take that photo)
EDIT*
By popular demand...
MORE BABY PHOTOS!
She's so beautiful!!! (yes I did take that photo)
EDIT*
By popular demand...
MORE BABY PHOTOS!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
IT IS DONE!
Shana had her darling daughter yesterday evening at 8 pm via c-section. Her little angel was 7 lbs 5 oz and 21 in. long.
Yesterday was a REALLY hard day for her that started with her arriving at 6 am to the hospital, included her getting 3 epidurals – yes 3 freaking times – before she got any relief and her not dilating for the most part.
As expected, she’s super tired today and really sore.
No I don’t have any photos of the baby – so sorry. Planning to visit tomorrow when she’s feeling more up to visitors and THEN I promise I’ll take a million photos.
Shana had her darling daughter yesterday evening at 8 pm via c-section. Her little angel was 7 lbs 5 oz and 21 in. long.
Yesterday was a REALLY hard day for her that started with her arriving at 6 am to the hospital, included her getting 3 epidurals – yes 3 freaking times – before she got any relief and her not dilating for the most part.
As expected, she’s super tired today and really sore.
No I don’t have any photos of the baby – so sorry. Planning to visit tomorrow when she’s feeling more up to visitors and THEN I promise I’ll take a million photos.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Some People Are Fucking Stupid
Or
Proof That Even The Stupidest Warning Sticker Is Needed
I just ran across this news article. WTF? How STUID must one be to not realize that sponge should be WET before you nuke it for 2 minutes or it’ll burst into flames?!?!?!?! Come on people, the original article described how they soaked the sponges in dirty water prior to sticking them in the microwave.
This is my favorite paragraph:
"Just wanted you to know that your article on microwaving sponges and scrubbers aroused my interest. However, when I put my sponge/scrubber into the microwave, it caught fire, smoked up the house, ruined my microwave, and pissed me off," one correspondent wrote in an e-mail to Reuters.
I wish I had that person’s e-mail so I could send them a thank you note for making me laugh at someone’s incredible stupidity. I usually have to rely on tales of current hijinks by certain people’s idiot ex’s.
On to other news. This article talks about how Viagra may decrease a man’s ability to smell. Apparently researchers studied 20 young men and found that the ones given 100 mg dose of Viagra had a ‘drop in olfactory ability”. I wanted this article to end with this statement: “An informal exit interview found that none of these men cared if they couldn’t smell when they had an enormous erection.”
Since we are talking about Viagra, I think you all should know not to give it to your pet iguana no matter how much he begs for it. Poor Mozart’s going to get the Lorena Bobbitt treatment because of his week long erection. Shed no tears for him people, iguana’s have two penises so this won’t even put a dent in his sex life. (though part of me is REALLY curious as to why Mozart was getting Viagra!)
In other animal news, NJ has issued a warning to squirrel hunters to NOT eat the squirrel that live near a TOXIC WASTE DUMP. WTF? WHY does anyone NEED to be told that? Ewww… I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
And that is all, go about your business.
Or
Proof That Even The Stupidest Warning Sticker Is Needed
I just ran across this news article. WTF? How STUID must one be to not realize that sponge should be WET before you nuke it for 2 minutes or it’ll burst into flames?!?!?!?! Come on people, the original article described how they soaked the sponges in dirty water prior to sticking them in the microwave.
This is my favorite paragraph:
"Just wanted you to know that your article on microwaving sponges and scrubbers aroused my interest. However, when I put my sponge/scrubber into the microwave, it caught fire, smoked up the house, ruined my microwave, and pissed me off," one correspondent wrote in an e-mail to Reuters.
I wish I had that person’s e-mail so I could send them a thank you note for making me laugh at someone’s incredible stupidity. I usually have to rely on tales of current hijinks by certain people’s idiot ex’s.
On to other news. This article talks about how Viagra may decrease a man’s ability to smell. Apparently researchers studied 20 young men and found that the ones given 100 mg dose of Viagra had a ‘drop in olfactory ability”. I wanted this article to end with this statement: “An informal exit interview found that none of these men cared if they couldn’t smell when they had an enormous erection.”
Since we are talking about Viagra, I think you all should know not to give it to your pet iguana no matter how much he begs for it. Poor Mozart’s going to get the Lorena Bobbitt treatment because of his week long erection. Shed no tears for him people, iguana’s have two penises so this won’t even put a dent in his sex life. (though part of me is REALLY curious as to why Mozart was getting Viagra!)
In other animal news, NJ has issued a warning to squirrel hunters to NOT eat the squirrel that live near a TOXIC WASTE DUMP. WTF? WHY does anyone NEED to be told that? Ewww… I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
And that is all, go about your business.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Badger, Badger, Badger, Badger…
This morning I witnessed the return of THE BADGER. This is Cabbage Patches alter ego that only makes an appearance when she is awoken. When Super Girl started kindergarten a couple of years ago I discovered this horrible personality and often took great care in doing whatever possible to not come in contact with it, i.e. after a couple of weeks of dealing with it while trying to get Super Girl ready for school, I just let her sleep until whenever since she didn’t have to go to school anyway. The kid loves her sleep, I can respect that.
As this school year approached I had a growing sense of foreboding. I had horrible dreams of every morning her screaming and crying from the time she got up until she got on the bus. Images of me wrestling her into clothing every morning and putting her in a head lock to get her hair in a ponytail. Not good, not good. The beginning of kindergarten didn’t start like that; she was amazingly eager to go and was mostly happy to get up in the morning. As the months progressed she wasn’t quite so eager to get up though. She’d come down stairs and lay on the couch, pulling the afghan over her head and wouldn’t move until she absolutely HAD to. Eventually she figured that if she refused breakfast she could get 10 more minutes of sleep. And hey, isn’t sleeping more important than a bowl of Cheerios?
Last week she was sick one day, so she got some medicine and was sent back to bed. She was so totally cool with that. Funny thing was that she woke up at 9:30 am feeling better and announced to me that she was getting dressed and I’d need to walk her to school. She doesn’t quite understand the concept of staying HOME from school. A couple of times this week she’s tried to convince me she was SICK so she could sleep in – she can’t fool the thermometer though. Tuesday and Wednesday she just wouldn’t get dressed so I had to wrestle her into clothes (of which she told me she didn’t want to wear) – what fun!
Today was the day I’ve dreaded. She was in full on BADGER mode. From the moment I flipped on the light in their bedroom until she stepped out the door (and I’m assuming got on the bus… maybe even now as she’s headed to lunch) she screamed and cried and gnashed her teeth. She denounced us all and proclaimed that she hated her clothes, she hated the cats, she hated me, she hated her sister, she hated the dog, she hated those shoes, she hated her backpack, she hated her coat… you get the picture. It was something else. (And for all of you soon to be parents and parents of tiny angelic babies, who happen to be snickering, be warned… it WILL happen to you. All children are born to appear angelic, but they are really little time bombs of terror just waiting to unleash it on you when you least expect it… and then they’ll be adorable and cute again so you don’t actually lock them in a dog crate, you just really, really consider it).
So… what’s the point of this post? Fuck if I know, I thought it might more socially acceptable to write about that than a detailed inventory of my sex toys or a boring account of folding laundry.
This morning I witnessed the return of THE BADGER. This is Cabbage Patches alter ego that only makes an appearance when she is awoken. When Super Girl started kindergarten a couple of years ago I discovered this horrible personality and often took great care in doing whatever possible to not come in contact with it, i.e. after a couple of weeks of dealing with it while trying to get Super Girl ready for school, I just let her sleep until whenever since she didn’t have to go to school anyway. The kid loves her sleep, I can respect that.
As this school year approached I had a growing sense of foreboding. I had horrible dreams of every morning her screaming and crying from the time she got up until she got on the bus. Images of me wrestling her into clothing every morning and putting her in a head lock to get her hair in a ponytail. Not good, not good. The beginning of kindergarten didn’t start like that; she was amazingly eager to go and was mostly happy to get up in the morning. As the months progressed she wasn’t quite so eager to get up though. She’d come down stairs and lay on the couch, pulling the afghan over her head and wouldn’t move until she absolutely HAD to. Eventually she figured that if she refused breakfast she could get 10 more minutes of sleep. And hey, isn’t sleeping more important than a bowl of Cheerios?
Last week she was sick one day, so she got some medicine and was sent back to bed. She was so totally cool with that. Funny thing was that she woke up at 9:30 am feeling better and announced to me that she was getting dressed and I’d need to walk her to school. She doesn’t quite understand the concept of staying HOME from school. A couple of times this week she’s tried to convince me she was SICK so she could sleep in – she can’t fool the thermometer though. Tuesday and Wednesday she just wouldn’t get dressed so I had to wrestle her into clothes (of which she told me she didn’t want to wear) – what fun!
Today was the day I’ve dreaded. She was in full on BADGER mode. From the moment I flipped on the light in their bedroom until she stepped out the door (and I’m assuming got on the bus… maybe even now as she’s headed to lunch) she screamed and cried and gnashed her teeth. She denounced us all and proclaimed that she hated her clothes, she hated the cats, she hated me, she hated her sister, she hated the dog, she hated those shoes, she hated her backpack, she hated her coat… you get the picture. It was something else. (And for all of you soon to be parents and parents of tiny angelic babies, who happen to be snickering, be warned… it WILL happen to you. All children are born to appear angelic, but they are really little time bombs of terror just waiting to unleash it on you when you least expect it… and then they’ll be adorable and cute again so you don’t actually lock them in a dog crate, you just really, really consider it).
So… what’s the point of this post? Fuck if I know, I thought it might more socially acceptable to write about that than a detailed inventory of my sex toys or a boring account of folding laundry.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
LAST CHANCE TO ORDER GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!!!
Hey just wanted to let you know that today is the last day for you to order cookies - I have to turn in the orders this evening at Super Girl's Girl Scout meeting. (If you've already ordered, I've got your information written down already, if you'd like to add to your order, feel free though ;) )
If you'd like to order some cookies, she'd need to haveyour order by 1-24-07 (today). The cookies are $3.50 a box and she needs to have themoney by 2-20-07 so she can deliver cookies shortly there after. Here are the fabulous varieties:
Samoas - vanilla cookies, vovered with caramel, rolled in toasted coconut and striped with chocolate
Thin Mints - oh you know what those are!
Do-Si-Dos - Oatmeal cookies with creamy peanut butter filling
All Abouts - these are new. Shortbread cookies with fudge on one side.
Trefoils - shortbread cookies
Tagalongs (my favorite) - coookies topped with peanut butter and covered in chocolate
Sugar Free Little Brownies (another new one)
Cafe Cookies - gourmet-styled cookies caramelized with brown sugar and a hint of cinnamon
If you'd like to pay with PayPal use this e-mail address (moocowmoo at hotmail.com) and please inclued a $.50 or so more to cover the cost of PayPal. If you'd like to mail acheck - let me know and I'll give you my address to send to and the informationto put on the check.
Anyway, that's about it.
Let me know by 5 pm if you'd like COOKIES!!!
Hugs
Judy
Hey just wanted to let you know that today is the last day for you to order cookies - I have to turn in the orders this evening at Super Girl's Girl Scout meeting. (If you've already ordered, I've got your information written down already, if you'd like to add to your order, feel free though ;) )
If you'd like to order some cookies, she'd need to haveyour order by 1-24-07 (today). The cookies are $3.50 a box and she needs to have themoney by 2-20-07 so she can deliver cookies shortly there after. Here are the fabulous varieties:
Samoas - vanilla cookies, vovered with caramel, rolled in toasted coconut and striped with chocolate
Thin Mints - oh you know what those are!
Do-Si-Dos - Oatmeal cookies with creamy peanut butter filling
All Abouts - these are new. Shortbread cookies with fudge on one side.
Trefoils - shortbread cookies
Tagalongs (my favorite) - coookies topped with peanut butter and covered in chocolate
Sugar Free Little Brownies (another new one)
Cafe Cookies - gourmet-styled cookies caramelized with brown sugar and a hint of cinnamon
If you'd like to pay with PayPal use this e-mail address (moocowmoo at hotmail.com) and please inclued a $.50 or so more to cover the cost of PayPal. If you'd like to mail acheck - let me know and I'll give you my address to send to and the informationto put on the check.
Anyway, that's about it.
Let me know by 5 pm if you'd like COOKIES!!!
Hugs
Judy
The Shoes That Saved My Life!
(Not really, but they are really fabulous)
WOW! Look! I’m not dead! The three of you who do read this brain damage causing blog may be wondering where I have been. Let me tell you. I was abducted by aliens. Yup, they just sucked me up in their ship and made me play cards with them. I couldn’t leave. Just up in the mother ship hanging out. It was a lot more boring that you might think. They aren’t very good at conversation, everything leads back to them talking about anal probes and I’m all like “Okay, whatever, enough about that. We are playing bridge and I just have to tell you, conversation about probing of the buttal region is completely inappropriate for a bridge game. Maybe it would be appropriate for a poker game but definitely not this.” And they’d be all “Ohhhhhhh…” giving me that look with their big shiny eyes and all…
Um... yeah... so where was I? Oh yeah, so I have been MIA because of aliens and being abducted. Except I wasn’t really, I just thought that being abducted by aliens sounded better than admitting that I was just fucking depressed. Yeah, just fucking depressed. So I just didn’t have anything that was even remotely cheerful and happy to write so I didn’t. In fact I didn’t even talk to people. Didn’t read much of my e-mail or take many phone calls. Because I was depressed. And ya know what, that’s just depressing. I know, I suck as a friend for not returning e-mails or phone calls. I didn’t think you really wanted me pissing in your Wheaties so to speak though. But I’m feeling better now. This past weekend I got the old metaphorical crow bar out and pried my head out of my ass. It’s amazing how that can change ones shitty outlook on life. That and a little therapy. And that of course brings me to… My Day of Retail Therapy AND THE SHOES!
Yesterday D was over (I have my time share dog
As with all therapy, it always starts with a lot of mixed feelings and often is painful and frustrating though hopeful. The first place of therapy involved me trying to find a pair of jeans. Now let me take a moment and explain, I don’t wear jeans. I look shitty in jeans. I’m the wrong shape to wear jeans. It’s an abomination. The mirror in the fitting room reflected the abomination that was high lighted with the harsh fluorescent lights. Out I went to model the horror for D to witness. Children cried and old people wet their Depends as I emerged from the fitting room in the terrifying ensemble. The jeans hugged places they should have never come near, they bagged in places they should have hugged and they were two feet to long. I myself had to fight off the urge to jab my own eyes out with spoons at the very sight in the mirror stareing back at me with a pathetic twisted visage. (It didn’t help anything that we had left to run a quick errand early in the morning and I had not bothered to wear make up… or do anything other than clip up my hair… or to wear decent clothes… yes, yes I was looking all of Britney Spears fatter older sister who has the same terrifying fashion sense, all I needed was a baby to almost drop and a K Fed look alike to complete that look.) Hopes dashed by the deceitful jeans, I chalked it up to a learning experience – I learned to not shove my ass in a pair of them!
Later that afternoon the clouds parted and the angels sang as we went to another place to continue our therapy. I scored a shirt and some half price perfume. The trauma was over. One more stop and I heard the cherubic choir as I sat in the shoe department and convinced my offspring to bring me shoes to try on… I convinced Cabbage Patch to actually PUT the shoes ON my feet. I knew this was a sign of celestial harmony. And then it happened, Cabbage Patch brought THEM to me. The shoes were ringed with a heavenly aura as I looked on with awe. She placed them on my feet as though The Creator himself (instead of Liz Claiborne) had just made them especially for me. I gazed lovingly at THE SHOES as she fumbled with the buckle (then impatiently shoved her aside as I strapped them on). With much excitement I took a few steps in them and was delighted that they were amazingly comfortable. I was in LOVE. After a short moment of hesitation I allowed D to convince me to buy those bad boys and we were off! Take a gander at the photo of THE SHOES. Do they not look as though they were made by a heavenly presence? Oh yes, yes they do. And now I must go and snuggle my shoes before bed.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
New Year Whine
(sorry, it's not funny or anything, just whiney)
The New Year rang in not as expected. The trip I was planning to go on didn’t happen (let’s just say some people are incredible assholes deep down – no I’m not talking about K who is far from an asshole). After getting past the stomach flu I got hit with a lovely cold. Why? Because I gave birth to two walking-talking bio-hazard germ magnets that live to spread their diseases to me like Pestilence of the Four Horsemen.
I’ve been living in a veritable haze of medication, tissues and migraines. I don’t recommend it for anyone. Some of the medication has been very interesting, as in leaving me seriously spaced out (Drixoral cold & allergy 12 hour sustained relief ) to where I had difficulty carrying on a coherent conversation and let’s not even think about the ever so entertaining shopping trip with D and the offspring. My bursts of energy have been spent doing the never ending mound of laundry and reading. I haven’t even felt much up to being on the computer and just haven’t. I haven’t even been reading e-mail or answering the phone. Sorry, just not in the mood to be social, really in the mood to just crawl in a cave and be left alone until I feel like a human again. The progeny don’t much go for that idea though, they have needs and they seem to believe that I am the only one who can take care of that for them. Aren’t they supposed to be self sufficient by now? You know, make their own meals, and work a job or something? Whatever, I’ll be thankful when school starts again on Tuesday. (This damned school district has the longest winter break!)
Another added bonus for the New Year is that Easy Bake Oven is not working. It was briefly fixed and now it’s not again. *sigh* I don’t even want to go into it now, but hopefully it’ll be up and running soon.
The job situation is completely uncertain at this moment. I don’t know if I’m fired or not. Honestly I’m not sure I care either. I lack any respect for my boss and simply can’t stand her. So maybe this is a good thing, I don’t really want to go back to work even though I do love what I do, I completely dislike the company I work for and of course my boss and the ‘new changes’ to the company that the new owners are convinced will make things ‘better’ yet seem to only make things shittier and more stressed. So I may be looking for new employment soon and with that I’ll need to figure exactly what it is that I do want to do as far as employment and all like that. Who knows, maybe this is all the cold medication speaking for now.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Proof That Santa Hates Jews
Monday night after working that day and celebrating the tree holiday with K’s family and seeing a movie with La Seg I was struck down in my prime! STRUCK DOWN I TELL YOU! Within 10 or 15 minutes of returning home at
Morning happened and I called K on his cell phone (yes, yes we live in the same casa, he just couldn’t hear my sad little whimper upstairs) and suggested he call my sister to take the Tiny Terrorists and call my boss to call me in dead for the day. He called D but refused to call my boss as she bitched him out when I had a migraine. D fetched the Little People shortly after K left for work and as luck would have it she was here when my boss called to let it be known that she was pissed yet again at me for being too sick to work. I let D handle the call – no one can out do her in the BITCHY department. Then they left. The rest of the day was a blur of misery.
The next day I managed to keep down half a cup of broccoli cheese soup and some ice tea! Today I’m not cringing when I cough nor do I curl into the fetal position after a sneeze. And honestly, WTF? WHY are my SHOULDERS SORE??? I don’t remember using THEM while shouting groceries.
And, whatever, that’s it. I’m tired now. I’ll write more later.
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