Monday, December 20, 2010
My little venture is just in its infant stage and has a long way to go. Over the next few weeks, more items will be added to my etsy store. In the works are more pajama sets, infinity scarves (inspired by Jill and her love of scarves.....just like her mom!), layered ruffle skirts, and much more.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Couyld you people who leave comments at least learn to spell, I realize it is hard to spell correctly when you are evidently in the process of hating the person you are commenting on, however to the Misfit character, it is their, not there grief, or whatever the purpose you used the word, their and there have two different meanings, so perhaps instead of jumping to leave a comment, try picking up a thesaurus (yes that is a word too, in fact it is a book a lot like a dictionary which you should also use, ) so instead of hating, try learning to spell, that goes for all of you haters.
They spelled "could" wrong when bitching about poor spelling. Although, I applaud them for attempting to make that all one sentence.
Monday, November 22, 2010
The day after our race, when we should have been resting, we hit the pavement. Our goal was four miles, which we easily hit. Today, we did a short run. Funny how two miles equals a short run now. Tomorrow our goal is 4.5 miles. On Wednesday we will run only one mile, and then Thursday we will attempt to run the whole five in the race.
Honestly, I am not sure what we were thinking when we signed up for this race, but I am really excited to run in a "real" race!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
And we are off....
Our original goal was to simply run the whole 5K. Then we set a time of 34 minutes. When we broke 32 minutes last week, we reset our goal to under 30 minutes.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
I keep a cup of water by the bed. Always have. In my car is a cup of water. Look around my house and you will find water glasses everywhere I have been sitting. Did I also mention I am really bad about leaving my water glasses everywhere and never picking them up? My husband loves that. I am never without a drink. Because my throat gets scratchy without one. My mouth feels thick. This has never really been a problem for me until....
"Do you often have dry-mouth," my doctor asked.
Oh shit. My need for constant water isn't some weird quirk. It is a symptom.
Days later, I am sitting at my desk, when I absentmindedly reach for my water glass. Before I can take a sip, it dawns on me. I. Have. Dry. Mouth. Oh God. I am dying. I just know it. In fact my kidneys are shutting down as we speak, because my mouth is dry. And is my left index finger joint swollen? I think I have a fever. Does anybody else see a rash on my legs?
Maybe those others doctors weren't too off the mark with their diagnosis of anxiety after all.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
1. How do you write nothing for months, and then just reappear? And with drama.
2. I hate sympathy posts. And complainers. And other people's health problems.
For several years, I have suffered from some seemingly random symptoms. Chest pain with no known heart abnormalities. Severe abdominal pain. Bouts of insomnia. Numb hands and feet. Fatigue. Achy joints. The list goes on. I have seen many doctors. Each one eventually determining I was depressed or anxious. Not one offering any solution other than anti-depressants.
When a blood vessel in my eye burst a few months ago, my opthamalogist became concerned. She pieced together some of my other symptoms and suggested I see a Rheumatologist. I made my appointment, and then braced myself for a diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis.
I was completely thrown off when my doctor told me that I did not, in fact, have RA. Instead, I have a rare genetic condition that is also an inflammatory auto-immune disorder. Except, I get the added fun of organ failure. Predominantly kidney failure, followed by liver failure. Yay.
There is no cure, and it is progressive. The really good news is there is a known treatment that will significantly reduce my chances of kidney and liver failure. The downside is I will have to take this for the rest of my life. And there are some serious side effects. The biggest is it speeds up your digestive system (read: diarrhea. ew.) AND blocks absorption of some vitamins and minerals. Almost all patients have severe weight loss. I am a size four. I doubt I need any severe weight loss. Especially given the worst part.
I will have to give up dairy while taking this medication. No Starbucks white chocolate mochas. No cupcakes with milk every evening. This, my friends, is the part that makes me tear up. You want me to give up cupcakes? Forever? And while I can eat as much as I want and still be skinny?
The results of my liver function test should be in by Tuesday, which means I should start on a low dose of my medication by Wednesday. I have to be dairy free three days prior to my first dose. That gives me through Sunday.
Don't worry friends, I started two-a-days in preparation. White mochas in the morning. Peppermint lattes in the afternoon.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Some people are just assholes. Being kind to them isn't going to make them less of an asshole. It is just going to peg you as the person who won't stand up to them. Maybe this will make them look for another target, but more than likely it will make them decide you are the perfect target. I say put them in their place. When some little punk boy mouths off to her, she should respond with "Assholes like you grow up to be assholes who will never in a million years get a girl like me. You are going to be forty, alone, fired from four jobs, twice for sexual harassment, once for anger management issues, and once for just plain being stupid. Your best friend is going to be your beer can, and even your mother won't be able to stand you."
That is practical advice.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Kenny, thank you for being the husband and father that you are. You are an amazing man. And pretty damn funny, too. I am thankful for every moment we have had together, even if I still haven't figured out how to get you to put your cups in the dishwasher. Although, I guess if that is worst that I have to say about you, then I have it pretty good. Happy Anniversary. I love you.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Fast forward to over ten years later.
The plan for the day was the guys were going wakeboarding, and the girls were cooking dinner. Kenny went on ahead of me to meet up with our friend and another guy he had never met. When I arrived to help with dinner, I immediately question my friend about this new guy. Why? Because he happened to have the same first name as The Ex. A name that is not common at all. As in, I have never met another person with said name.
I breathed a sigh of relief when, even though she didn't know his last name, she did know that he was only twenty-four. Thank goodness, because that was going to be really awkward.
Awkward like when they walked in the back door, and my husband and the new guy are chatting away and I freeze because it is clearly The Ex who is definitely not twenty four and he has just been hanging out with my husband.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Let's recap our summer so far.
Cliff diving. A sport that every nine-year-old should try.
And then she bought herself this.
And did this at her first lesson ever.
Ignore my inability to focus the camera on her. I blame Emmi. She was tugging on my arm. And speaking of little Emmi. Even she took a turn.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The two closest SB's are a good fifteen minutes away, in two opposing towns. Both are slightly inconvenient. I have to go a bit out of my way to get to either. That leaves SB number three. It is about twenty minutes away, but near other stores that I sometimes need to go to. Read: TARGET. It's not everyday that I make it by SB anymore. My sometimes twice a day habit is now down to twice a week. If I am lucky. So on those rare occasions that I do get to SB, it better damn well be good.
Yet SB #3 sucks. Consistently. Once, they made the wrong drink for me. I ordered correctly. I had the receipt in my hand to prove it. Then, they fussed at me for not wanting the wrong drink. I mean, it was cold outside, I should want a hot drink. Why on earth did I order a cold one anyway? The second time, they forgot the white mocha part of my iced white mocha. When I explained this, they were severely confused. I wanted extra white mocha? I don't like white mocha? How about a new cherry mocha! Today, I figured, third time's a charm. They were bound to improve. Right? Wrong.
I ordered my usual. I stepped aside. Then, the barista explained that she just needed to restart the empty coffee maker. While the other three employees watched. Meanwhile, I waited and the line at the register grew. When the coffee maker was restarted, I expected the barista to go back to making my drink. That I had ordered a full five minutes ago. Instead, she returned to the register to help the two men that walked in less than a minute ago. Obviously. They placed their orders, plain coffees and pastries. Which she immediately served. At my, "Excuse me," and gesture she responded, "I am sorry, their orders are just so much easier." Oh yes. That makes sense. I will just stand here until someone orders a much more complicate drink.
At first I was annoyed. Then I realized. I am clearly in the wrong and know nothing about customer service.
PS To all of our clients. We will only be mowing those houses with very little flowerbeds to maintain today. They are easier. Don't worry, we will still charge you. And make you wait indefinitely until we feel like getting around to you. Thanks.
Friday, April 16, 2010
It's been awhile. I'd apologize. Except, I hate when people do that. And, I am not sorry. Obviously, this blog is not my main priority.
I think there was a time when it used to be a priority. Now I can't even say that. It was fine when I actually talked about what was going on in my life, but then things started happening that I wasn't entirely comfortable sharing. Pretty major things. Not secrets exactly. In fact, if you sat down with me for coffee I love coffee, I consume it for every meal, I would probably talk your ear off about it. But, since it has a lot to do with my kids, I don't feel like the internet where I have used their actual names and pictures is the right place to do such. There is no need to immortalize everything. Right? So I made the decision not to talk about certain things.
But that lead to trying to search for things to talk about. And that became exhausting. This was no longer my outlet, but just another job. And we all know I don't really like working all that much. The postings spaced out, lacked depth or character, and even I became bored reading them. I read some of my earlier posts, and think, "That shit was funny. What happened?" But I know what happened. My life changed, but I never adapted my blog.
I thought long and hard about what to do. I don't want to give up this blog. I have put a lot of effort into it, so I won't abandon it all together. I am definitely going to keep reading all of my favorites. I will post when I have something to say. But mostly, I am focusing on a new project.
It is a blog format. Completely different from this one. I will be writing anonymously. That means you may or may not ever find me. Sors. Don't worry, most of you won't care. It is all about raising two kids with disabilities.
So until next time...which could be tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
I woke up this morning. And the screen on my phone looked like this.
That's right. Blank. Nada. Nothing. Redundant, I know. I was standing in front of T-Mobile when they opened their doors this morning. I expected magic. And fireworks. And sparkles. Instead I got, "Go home, and try this. Then, dial xyz cause I can't remember what he actually said from your cell to call customer service." Oh really, genius. I should call them. From my phone that won't turn on. When I told Mr. Not Magic or Helpful At All Man that his lack of action pissed me off, he proceeded to tell me all about his bad day. Guess what. I don't care.
At home, his special magic fix, did not work. I made my first call to customer service. Not from my cell phone. Which, of course, required extra top secret verification that I should in fact be attempting to fix this broken phone. Because it would be a real issue if someone not on the account attempted to troubleshoot my phone. And although, I was in fact on the account, they decided I was not. Even after calling my husband fourteen times and having him confirm my ability to be trusted with my own phone. And so, argument and thirty minute phone call number one began.
Five phone calls and two and a half hours later, Blackberry technical support determined they could not fix the problem. I needed a new phone. Which is funny, because that is what I said. TWO AND A HALF hours ago. "Ma'am, just call T-Mobile back, and tell them you need a phone exchange." Which sounded simple.
Except then T-Mobile was unconvinced, and thought perhaps they should send me to Blackberry technical support for further assistance. The same technical support that sent me to them for a new phone. This was a fun loop. Finally, I began responding to all statements and questions with, "SEND ME A NEW PHONE."
Ma'am can you hold, please. SEND ME A NEW PHONE.
Ma'am, have you attempted to take the battery out. No, of course not, asshat. Nobody in the past six phone calls though to have me do that! SEND ME A NEW PHONE.
Ma'am what does the screen look like now. SEND ME A NEW PHONE.
As we headed into hour three, they finally decided to SEND ME A NEW PHONE. I guess they got tired of my screaming and analogies. "If I bought a shirt and it ripped before I even took the tag off of it, I would take it back to the store. The store would then not send me home, and ask me to attempt to sew it myself. When they failed, they would also not send me to another store to ask them for help. They would simply get ME A NEW shirt." How was this complicated? The phone was dead. Shit happens. Phones mysteriously die in the dead of the night.
And now, three hours of my life have been wasted.
T-Mobile. I hate you.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Although not so much that, as a confirmation number for that, as it doesn't come out until next week.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
So far this is what I have.
1. Range Rover. Preferably Sport. Preferably blue. Preferably with tan leather. Must have a DVD player.
2. Golf Cart. I don't play golf. Nobody in our family plays golf. I just want it to go to the bus stop. And pool. And to the Easter Egg Hunt in two Saturdays cause the website says, "Please take your golf cart, parking is limited." See totally need it.
3. ipad. Comes out April 3rd. I'll take a raincheck.
4. Money for clothes. Although, let's be real. I'll spend money on clothes whether or not he gives me money.
5. Photoshop Elements. Although, this requires me also taking the computer in for some work. But, just think of all of those pictures waiting on me to play with them.
That's all I got. Somehow, I don't think I am getting the Range Rover.
What would you ask for, if you were me? This is where I look conversational, but am really just trying to steal your ideas.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Apparently, Emmi got exactly one thing from that. Fat = UNHEALTHY.
After a long day and night before of cake baking and birthday partying, I was not about to cook. And I was starving. Kenny and I had shoved breakfast tacos in our faces between the mopping, vacuuming, and cake icing prior to the party. At 5:45, I made the executive decision that we were going out for Chinese. At the restaurant right outside our neighborhood whose parking lot is littered with cars bearing our neighborhood entrance sticker. By the end of dinner our neighbor two doors down sat one table over and our across the street neighbor sat two tables over. And we were the only people in there. My point? We know everyone who eats there. You see them at the country club later in the week or walking the dog.
When we first arrived there was exactly one other person eating in the restaurant. She sat at a table directly across from us, eating alone. I didn't recognize her, but the only other car in the parking displayed the reflection of the moon sticker I know so well. As we settled into our seats, she chatted with us about how cute our kids were and such.
The waitress handed her a fortune cookie and her check. She cracked open the cookie. No fortune. She turned to us, "What do you suppose that means?!"
The waitress called across the nearly empty restaurant, "I heard that was supposed to be good luck."
We all laughed.
Emmi had been watching, evaluating the whole situation. Listening. Finally she piped up.
"SHE IS SO FAT! SHE IS UNHEALTHY! Right, Mommy? Right?!"
I am pretty sure right then, that empty cookie was not good luck.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
You decided this year your hair would be long. A first. You normally wear it short. I think this change came about, because you now wear your processors over the ear. Speaking of ears, you got your ears pierced. It was what you asked for for your birthday. Along with Lanie, the American Girl doll of the year, and a scooter. All of which you got. You wanted a rainbow cake. I think you would have been happy with a cake with a rainbow on it, but we all know Mommy can't just leave it at that. So you got a rainbow cake. Six layers. Homemade icing. Nine batches of icing. And I still did not have enough.
Pretty much, I would do anything for you. Even stay up all night baking a rainbow cake.
I still can't believe you are six, Ems. Happy Birthday Little E. I hope this next year is everything you wished for.
Friday, March 12, 2010
And I lived. With all of my hair still on my head.
I know. I know. People do this kind of thing all the time. Some moms even have, like, a bajillion kids and take them places. All by themselves.
But they don't have my kids.
Let's start with Emmi. Until very recently, her communication skills were far behind her age level. But her cognitive skills weren't. Meaning, she could wander through a store, see a pink shirt that she thought would look fabulous with a bright green skirt if only she could get some blue socks to go along with it all, and yell something along the lines of "PINK GREEN SOCK!" So I would furiously try to find some pink and green socks, and be completely dismayed when she hated the pink and green socks I produced. Then the pantomiming and wild guessing would begin. "You want socks? Not these socks? Pink socks? No? But socks? Point to the socks, Emmi. Point! Okay? Blue socks? So you wanted socks that weren't pink and green? You like pink? You hate green?" And inevitably we would leave with blue socks, nothing else, a pissed off kid, and a near tears mommy.
Meanwhile, Jill was standing in the corner rocking back and forth screaming because it was too loud or too bright or too smelly in the store and the tag in her shirt had suddenly started to bother her and someone accidentally bumped into her and her left shoe is too tight and she HATES me BECAUSE I AM THE WORSTEST MOMMY EVER because I was trying to buy her new clothes that have too many colors on them.
And then I would have to ride home with them.
It was good fun times.
But then Emmi started talking. Really talking. I would say it is the years of therapy that finally kicked in, but I am actually going to go with replacing the faulty cochlear implant that did it. It is amazing what actually being able to hear will do for ones ability to speak. On a side note, the more she is talking, the more she is signing too. I thought she would lose interest, which was a bit sad. But, she actually wants to learn more. So now when she wants a pink shirt and a green skirt with blue socks, she can say, "I like that pink shirt and that green skirt, but can we get blue socks with it?" Albeit, she says it in the cutest little voice EVER.
And then, finally, someone figured out that Jill is NOT bipolar and doesn't have ADHD nor am I just a bad parent or out of sync with my child. Nope. She has a neurological disorder that went undiagnosed for over eight years. Mostly because she hid the physical symptoms very well. Another side note, her formal evaluation came back yesterday. I was expected a her to be lagging a bit here and there. She was FOUR YEARS behind developmentally on some physical aspects. FOUR YEARS. She is just smart and compensates well. And now she can do things like go out in public and wear clothes and such. So we went shopping, followed the OT's orders, and Jill left smiling. Smiling! With new clothes! And new shoes. Oh, good gravy, she was the cutest thing this morning.
And our house is full of rainbows and sunshine. And maybe even unicorns today. Because yesterday might have been the best day ever.
And who of you childless people wants children now after reading that? Because if you didn't get, let me make it more clear. It took SIX YEARS for me to take both of my kids out shopping and to eat without backup. Six. Years.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
When we moved, I gave up my gym membership. No big deal. With the purchase of our house came a fancy pants country club membership along with a sports club. Except, long story short that is an entirely different story that I am not going to tell right now because it will make me scream, we won't have that gym membership for about two more weeks. That means six months without a gym membership. In winter. When I won't run outside. Because I don't do cold.
But today the weather was perfect. No excuse perfect. And the skinny jeans were getting way too tight. I dug my running shoes out of my closet. Took the tag off the brand new running shirts I bought SIX months ago. Loaded my running mix back on my ipod. And set off, determined to make it two miles. Just go easy.
The half mile point put me just outside of our section and even with the guard shack where a line of cars sat waiting to enter the neighborhood. Which is just about where I threw up.
The first time.
Whatever. That's just how you get the skinnies faster.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Mid afternoon, there was a power surge. I reset all the clocks. Restarted the computers, and waited for my glorious internet access to come back. Except nothing happened. No signal. I did the whole unplug the router, blow on the cord the shit works sometimes and you know it, and wait. Nothing. Finally after a few hours I conceded that it was coming back on it's own. I needed to call the internet/cable company.
It was in that moment that it dawned on me. No working phone. Vonage phone lines and a cell that runs on wi-fi inside the house thanks to our tech shield roof. I would have to go stand outside in the cold to call. But I had blogs to read. And the book of face to check. I made the call. In the cold.
Then I went back inside to watch TV and wait until tomorrow for a tech to come fix my sad little internets. I made it about halfway across the living room, before the cable went out in front of my very eyes. Shit. Should I call back? Could the same tech take care of my internet and cable?
I decided not to chance it, so I called back.
"Ma'am, I am going to send a signal to your box, could you tell me when the box shuts off?"
"I can't walk in the house on my cell phone, because my cell phone will loose signal. So I can't see the box. I can set the phone down, and come back to tell you."
"Ma'am, I just need you to stay on the line, and tell me when it shuts..."
"I can't take my phone in the house, so you have two choices. I can set it down, and come back when it shuts off. Or I can stand here and talk to you, and not see the box at all."
"If you could just stay on the line with me while looking at the box."
"What about 'I can't take me phone inside, because it will loose signal' is confusing you?"
"Okay then sinc you can't see the box, have you checked that your TV is on the right input?"
"The cable went off right before my eyes. I know there was a shooting at my house, and my husband and I debate the existence of a ghost, but the ghost has not shown the ability to fuck with the TV. Given the fact that my internet is out also, I am going to take a chance and say it is not my TV input. Now, do you still want me to check to see if the box shut off?"
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
1. Get away from the kids and neighbors. Yes. Neighbors. Take your wife to a hotel for a night. A hotel such as Motel 6. I completely see the validity of this one. Our neighbors are constantly keeping us from doing the sexy times with her looking in our window all the damn time. Plus, nothin' says hourly lovin' like Motel 6.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
I imagined it with mirrored side tables, a tufted white velvet headboard, Ralph Lauren metallic paint in Silver Plated coupled with Disney paint in Mickey's Shadow stop laughing that shit is the best grey paint EVER, a white dresser, black velvet curtains, and finally a home for my crystal Tiffany candlesticks.
Every few weeks, I checked the website for a sale. Then. Finally. Sunshine. Rainbows! A SALE! My doctor ordered me to get a new mattress, so I would quit showing up in his office hitting him up for pain pills because my shoulder hurts so bad and I refuse to have surgery and our mattress is forever old. So with a sale, and a need for new bedding for our new mattress, it was a totally justified purchase. I ordered that shit with a quickness. All of it except the filler for the duvet. Because I am picky. My blanket has to have to right weight to it. Just right. Perfect right.
And wouldn't you know it, when I showed up at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, they had sensors over the zippers. I couldn't feel the fluff. How could I know it was right? How? And don't dare expect any of the employees in that store to actually help you by doing any work. Who was I to ask to actually be able to touch and feel the products before I buy them and drive thirty minutes back to my house? I am so demanding.
So Bed, Bath, and Beyond. We are not friends. Not at all. Your employees suck ass. I spent my money elsewhere. My duvet is the perfect weight no thanks to you.
Now I just need to convince my husband that these are also a necessity.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Sunday, the weather was awesome. Like-shorts-and-a-tshirt-and-please-say-that-I-got-enough-sun-that-I-am-no-longer-ghost-white awesome. Kenny cleaned the garage. I read a book in a lawn chair. The kids ran around in the front yard. I even drank lemonade. It was good times. Until. My neighbor, the vacation home next door part-time neighbor, came over. To let me know that my kids ride their scooter in the street. And once walked in her yard. And climb the tree. The tree that is in my yard. The tree in my yard that I don't give a shit if they climb. And. And! Those hoodlum kids who lived here before us used to jump off of things. The audacity of those kids. And those boys in our neighborhood? They are always doing horrible, horrible things like playing football in the street. Fucking brats. It wasn't until after she stomped off that it occurred to me that I should have mentioned how much I don't appreciate her spying on me. We catch her looking in our windows. Often.
So in conclusion:
I got stuck in the What-a-Burger bathroom, which would have made for better rapping if it had been Burger King. Go ahead...name that song.
Once again, we have crazy fucking neighbors. Kenny is already packing our boxes.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
So we all sat down for family dinner. I pulled out my snack wraps. Jill takes out her box of nuggets. She opens it. It is empty.
"What happened to my nuggets," Jill calmly inquired.
And that is when I knew. She did something to those nuggets. She was calm. And there was missing food involved.
Eyeing her suspiciously, I asked if she perhaps had accidentally on purpose dropped the nuggets in the car. She responded back with perhaps McD's had given her an empty box. When I pointed out the nugget crumbs in the bottom of the box, she suddenly remembered eating one nugget. But the others? Vanished. Disappeared.
I took her to the car to search.
Kenny and I checked the grass surrounding the car.
We checked her bags. Her shoe. Yes, I even checked her shoe.
But I know. I just know she did something with those nuggets, and one of these days I am going to figure it out.
Probably when the car starts to stink like dead nugget.
Guess Jeans. $12.48
Grey Suede Boots. Half-off.
The website claims them to be $40 more than I found them at the store.
Guess Bag. 25% off. Plus, the sales lady just liked me and gave me an additional 15% off. I smile sweetly sometimes.
And I am officially out of Christmas money.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The last time I went to a hair appointment, it was just plain weird. Like salon owner harassing my hair dressed while I was getting my hair cut kind of weird. This time proved to be no better.
Ten minutes before my appointment, after I drove an hour, I got a call that my usual colorist called in sick. Someone else would fill in. Whatever. I thought it would not matter. Until I was greeted, or grunted at, by my replacement colorist. His sparkly scarf and heeled boots should have given away that he would love himself way more than me. He grumbled something along the lines of "What are you wanting done?" To which I basically said, "Can you look up my previous color? That is what I want." Without so much as a reply, he walked away. Fifteen minutes later, he magically returned. Silently. With color.
"Um. What do you have going on there? Is that the color I had last time?"
No reply. Just a prissy pursing of the lips. A face that said obviously.
Fine. Prissy Pants. Just remember, I tip based on how special you make me feel. Fail. Big fail for you.
At least the color came out right.
Which is more than I can say for my hair cut. And I don't get it. I even brought in a picture. Not just a celebrity picture with some impossible to recreate haircut. Oh no. I brought a picture of me. With my very own hair. Cut just like I like it.
And still hairdresser number two could not get it. What the hell?
PS Please send wigs.
I just broke out the scissors. I should be a fucking hairdresser. My hair looks awesome now.
It would probably be more impressive if I had a before shot to go with the after I attacked my hair with scissors shot. But my husband thought I was crazy enough making him take an after picture of my hair for my blog. Also, pretend that light fixture does not look like it is growing from my head.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I just figured out I can post blogs from my phone. I know this is probably something I should have long since figured out, but I tend to resist change. Use a phone for email? Beh. Read blogs in the waiting room of the millions of appointments I go to a week. Meh. But finally the waiting room boredom drew me in. And then. Today. I got this idea. I wanted to know if I could blog while in the school pick up line. Or at the dentist. And I can!
Aren't you proud of me?
Now. I should also mention that I am seriously considering throwing my phone at the lady across from me if she does not get quit attempting to make small talk with me. See my wall? Respect it.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
I am so sick I can barely stand up. Some sort of combo sinus infection and bronchial infection. You would not believe the pain it causes to sneeze or cough, which happens roughly every three seconds. I started off with that cough syrup so nice they make songs about it (Mom, that's the codeine one, since you are really confused right now..... She doesn't get down with Purple Stuff.). When even that wasn't helping me sleep, they kicked it up a notch to some crazy medicine that taste like shit and gives me insane dreams. Honestly, I am not sure it it works or just makes me so damn loopy I don't care that I can't breathe.
On the way to the doctor the other day, I stopped by the mail box praying my new insurance cards were in. They were not. It was fun paying out of pocket for the doctor and two medications WHEN YOU HAVE INSURANCE. What I did find in the mail was a lovely packet from the IRS.
I was audited. I kind of blew it off at first thinking it was some dumbass from the IRS's mistake, because clearly I had not under reported my income. Obviously, they had transposed my 2007 income with my 2008 income. I certainly did not owe them money. Except I did, because it was my accountant who transposed my 2007 and 2008 incomes. Which is awesome because I more than doubled my 2007 income in 2008. There are a whole lot of zeros behind the number I now owe the IRS after the back due taxes, penalties, and interest.
During one of my phone calls with my accountant, also known as my ex-mother-in-law, I learned that my ex-husband's phone was not working because he shut if off since he is leaving the country for over six months. Awesome, since he had told no one, including his daughter of this plan. Best part? He is to go marry some girl he met while travelling, who I highly suspect is a prostitute, and bring her back to the US. I think their first meeting when something like this. "Me love you long time." "Let's get married. I'll take you to the US." When I finally did get in touch with him, I demanded he tell his daughter about his plans. He only bothered to tell her the part where he was leaving the country. I guess he just plans on showing up on the doorstep, "Hey Jill. Meet your new mommy. She speaks no English. Who is hungry for noodles?" Do they even eat noodles in Thailand? The good news is, I know for a fact that half blond, half Thai babies are pretty damn cute, right Zak? So there's that.
I am sick.
I owe the IRS thousands. That is thousands. Emphasis on the plural.
My ex-husband is marrying a hooker. Which is either a step up or step down from a stripper, depending on how you look at it.
I am going back to the couch now. Let me know when 2010 is fucking over.