Tuesday, December 30, 2008
This is what I opened with frantic anticipation from BD. No, I'm not kidding. He probably wishes I were kidding right about now though. That's the last time he will give me anything in a box that says "as seen on TV".
Ahhh, but my mother in law's gifts make up for it....
Ahh, now I bring you to Kota the Triceratops. What.the.fuck. This big ass dinosaur is now sitting in the middle of my living room. And if you walk by it, it kind of growls at you. Like it's cat calling me. Like I really needed another pervert living at my house.
*(I was drinking mimosa's too, what about it?)
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
Injected fertility drugs into my belly for 14 days straight (I may blog about it later...I haven't yet because I really try not to depress my readers!)
2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I didn't make any on purpose last year...this year is to quit smoking!
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No one close to me. I need some new babies!
4. Did anyone close to you die?
My sweet grandmother
5. What countries did you visit?
Yeah, like I have the money to visit other countries
6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
A new addition to the family
7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
April 1 - the day my gma passed away
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting accepted into nursing school. That shit is hard yo.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Not sticking to my workouts and diet
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Kidney stones 4 times. OMG. DAMN ALL THE KIDNEY STONES!!!
11. What was the best thing you bought?
We bought BD's new truck this year and I love it!
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
BB's....he is finally potty trained. Hallelujah!
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
14. Where did most of your money go?
Mortgage and pre-school
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I'm gonna go with getting into nursing school again. Took me two years!
16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
"Whatever You Like" - I have very small ghetto side.
17. Compared to this time last year, you are:
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
With my in-laws, BD and BB
21. Did you fall in love in 2008?
I was already in love :)
22. What was your favorite TV program?
Gray's Anatomy hands down
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Nope, no time for hate in my life
24. What was the best book you read?
"Are you there Vodka? It's me, Chelsea" - by Chelsea Handler
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Jack Johnson - I could listen to him all day
26. What did you want and get?
I wanted to get into nursing school.
27. What did you want and not get?
A sibling for BB
28. What was your favorite film that you saw this year?
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I honestly have no idea what I did on my bday this year. 28
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
If my ovaries weren't so fucking retarded
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
I have zero fashion concept. If you ever see me looking fashionable, BFF probably dressed me
32. What kept you sane?
BFF for sure
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I am absolutely fascinated with Angelina Jolie and her 17 kids
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
"Re-distribution of wealth"
35. Who did you miss?
36. Who was the best new person you met?
Susan and Shellie in nursing school.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
Everything happens for a reason. I know it sounds very cliche', but it is very true.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
You got me?!
BD was in the shower, singing christmas songs at the top of his lungs.
"Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose...."
"Rudolph with your nose so bright won't you drive my sleigh tonight"
Then in the best Joe Pesci voice he can muster:
"Pull your own fucking sleigh santa! Suck my red nose!"
I look through the shower door in bewilderment and tilt my head to the side.
He said, "that was the mafia version."
Oh, right, the mafia version. Duh.
And then after he got out of the shower he smelled my armpits because I couldn't remember if I put on deodorant. We're weird.
Monday, December 22, 2008
1. We had Christmas with my parents and grandparents this weekend. It was awesome. I love hanging out with my family and always come back with good stories. Stories that some how involved alcohol. See you guys, if I didn't come from a family of alcoholics, I would have nothing to blog about. Then what would you do all day? You're welcome.
Last time we were in town over Thanksgiving break, my dad got really drunk, which is totally normal. My parents have an L shaped countertop in their kitchen, and BD and I were sitting on barstools eating dinner there. Dad came in from outside, lost his balance, and was walking the perimeter of the counter. The only thing holding his ass up was the counter because he was walking at an angle. Can you guess what happened next? Yeah, he ran out of counter. He was still walking with his gangsta lean and when he ran out of the support of a countertop, he fell flat on his face. Good times. BD and I never missed a beat, we just kept eating like this was a completely normal scenario. I think I managed to mutter a "you okay dad?" between the laughter. If I don't laugh I'll cry people!
2. After much cajoling I've convinced BFF to start a blog because her life is just as, if not more, funny than mine. Go check her out here. Single mom of a five year old drama queen. Funny stuff.
3. It's that time of year again...time to make resolutions! I hate resolutions. Loathe them, actually. However, this year I'm making a very important one. As most of you know I've been doing my clinicals in the critical care unit. Most of the patients I take care of have been smokers. To see the effects of smoking first hand is terrifying. I've always known smoking was bad for you, but to actually see the damage it does to a person has shaken me to the core. I have a beautiful son that is my world and I want to be around to enjoy my grandchildren. So, my resolution is to stop smoking. I'm terrified and nervous and pray every day that I will be strong enough to succeed. But lucky for you it should make for a lot of interesting blog fodder :)
So what are some of you resolutions? Hopefully we can encourage eachother!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Big daddy and baby boy are sick. Tis the season I guess. And that usually happens when you get snow one day, and 78 degree weather the next. Gotta love Texas!
Last weekend we took baby boy to the hockey game. He loves watching sports and he's only three. He is definitely going to be a sports fanatic like his daddy. One thing he does not love is taking pictures.
At least he's looking in the direction of the camera this time....
BD has this theory that I'm a complete bad luck charm. He won't even let me gamble near him when we go to Vegas because he always starts losing. He sends me over to the penny slots in the corner of the casino with the rest of the derelicts. The one time I was left to my own devices I thought, "I'll show his ass and win lots of money at the craps table!" I lost $240 in 10 minutes and wasn't allowed to have any more money for the rest of the trip.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
And look, the snow actually stuck to the ground!
He kept eating it. He said it tasted like "cold icee cubes."
Our snowman. We made his eyes out of skittles and his nose was a toothpick because us southern folks aren't equipped for snowman construction like you northerners.
Everyone seems to be in a good mood today. It's amazing what a little snow in Texas can do!
PS - There were about 100 wrecks on the freeways this morning. No big surprise there.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The first sign of my trouble was about an hour or so after I had given birth to baby boy. I wanted to take a shower and stood up and felt something running down my leg. I looked down and realized it was pee. Nice. I looked at the nurse and said, "um, I'm peeing on myself and pretty much can't stop it." That is not a good feeling my friends. Of course it got progressively better once I was all healed up from having my vag blown out by that angelic little creature.
Ah, but did it go away? Negative. Now the pee sneaks out when I least expect it. When I cough or sneeze. When I laugh too hard, which is hard to avoid with my childish sense of humor. It's pretty common for me to stop mid-laugh and say "SHIT!" and run off to the bathroom. One time I had the stomach flu. The only thing more humiliating than having your head in the toilet all day is pissing down your leg a little every time you wretch. Good times.
I finally made an appointment with the lady doctor to address this problem. She ran a bunch of test to check out my muscle strength down in that region. She made me do kegels with her fingers all up in me. That's totally not weird or humiliating. She agreed that if the kegels didn't work I'd probably need a bladder suspension. Surgery? No thanks. The only thing I'm suspending on my body is these behemoth boobs.
So, I've accepted my fate.....
Yes, I'm kidding. I'm going to have the surgery. Blah!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Anyhow, here is a conversation that actually took place in my bathroom this morning.
SPM - My hair is pissing me off! Look at it, just look! It's all flippy and curly and shit!
BD - That's normal, you're getting older.
SPM - WTF?
BD - You know, cuz women's hair gets curly as they get older.
SPM - ??? No it doesn't.
BD - Yes it does. Look at all these old ladies with really curly hair.
SPM - That's because they perm it you fucking retard.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Then two glasses became four, then the next thing I know I wake up in a ditch on the outskirts of Tijuana next to a dead donkey and I'm all what the fuck? I was just making dinner and hanging Christmas lights! It's the pinot grigio. It's bad, bad stuff!
Ok, that last part isn't true. Like I could have made it back from Tijuana already.
Maybe it's a southern thing. Southern girls like to drink. Case in point:
Most of the pictures bff and I have together we both have a death grip on a miller lite bottle. (With lime please, thanks.) Guess which one I am.
And another thing, which looking at the picture reminded me of. BFF and I wear the same thing all.the.fucking.time. And we work together so it makes for some awkward situations. We have worn the same outfit three times this week, and it's only Thursday. Here is an instant message conversation we had this morning:
BFF - ok, let's get this over with
BFF - what are you wearing
SPM - pink and black shirt
BFF - awesome
SPM - you?
BFF - black and white
SPM - awesome
SPM - I don't even own any black and white outfits so you're always safe wtih that
BFF - LOL
BFF - it's a white button down under a black sweater with black pants
SPM - mine is a white button down under a pink sweater
SPM - with black pants
BFF - awesome
BFF - so the only difference is the color of our sweater
SPM - yeah, uh huh
BFF - this has got to stop
Our over use of the word awesome is starting to get on my own nerves.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
2. I'm fucking psychic and it's starting to freak me out. Last week I dreamt every night of people dying and being at funerals. I told bff this past weekend about it and to not be surprised if someone we knows dies. When I came into work this morning there was an email that a co-worker of ours husband died the night after Thanksgiving. He was only 54 and died in his sleep. Freaky. The night my dad died I had a dream that my grandparents were on a plane and they were both sobbing, but I couldn't figure out why. A few hours later I got the call that my dad had died while they were all on vacation together. Ever since then it has freaked me the fuck out when I dream of people dying.
3. I figured out I can't get cell phone reception when I sit on the right side of my couch. The left side is fine. Seriously.
4. Last night BD and BB were playing in the living room while I was in the kitchen. BB is running around like a crazy person because they were eating ice cream. I hear screaming. BB tripped over the dog and fell into our fireplace. He got second degree burns on his arm. It was horrible. Everything I had learned about being a nurse dissappeared and I flew into frantic mom mode. Some of his skin was burned to the glass and BD had to clean it off :( We took him to the ER and got some burn cream and got him bandaged up. He was a trooper. This pic was taken with my cell phone so it's a shitty picture, but you get the point....
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
I know it's pretty funny that I am on your birth control to begin with, seeing as how my ovaries ride the short bus. However, the real reason I got on you was for four periods a year. Who the hell wouldn't want only four periods a year?! Sign me the fuck up! So I made an appointment with my lady doctor and told her I needed a prescription. She laughed and said, "Why? You just spent like $15K at the fertility clinic across the hall." "Well yes, but if I can't get pregnant I may as well not have to deal with the bullshit of 12 periods in a year!" So she agreed and wrote me the prescription.
So we have established the fact that I wanted your product for the simple reason of having less periods, right? Then can you please tell me why the fuck I've been bleeding like someone put an icepick through my jugular (if said jugular was in my vagina)? Is this some kind of sick joke Seasonique?! You're a man, aren't you?
And then, to top this mass hemorrhaging off, I finished my last pill four days ago expecting to get my normal period so I can get off your godforsaken drug and guess what? It never came! The bleeding has stopped. Haha, seasonique, haha! Asshat.
Nearly Anemic in Texas
Thursday, November 20, 2008
However, I have financial obligations that I need to think about. Can we afford for me to take a cut in pay? I have no idea. I'm having lunch with BD today to discuss it. I don't do well with change, so this is very scary territory for me. I do know one thing. I'm not happy here. Not here so much as here working for that thing next door to me. She texted me yesterday to "make sure I know I'm expected at work tomorrow." Yeah, I'm very well aware of my schedule beast. What.the.fuck? I don't text her and say "hey, just making sure you know you're due in hell in ten years." Duh, it's obvious.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
So here are the instructions: Go to your sixth picture folder then pick your sixth picture.Pray that you remember the details. Post it on your blog.
And here is that picture:
It is baby boy two summers ago at my in-laws house. They live on the lake so we spend a lot of weekends up there in the summer. A pool, boat, ,fishing, moms home cooking...what more could you want?! I think we had gotten out the craps table that night to play some family casino. Baby boy got into the chips and I just happened to catch him with the camera when he looked up. Usually anytime he sees a camera he hides his face, so this is a rare picture. He is, by far, the best accomplishment of my life.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Tomorrow I'll be working in the ICU again. I'm really excited. It's like my respite away from the craziness that has become my life. I get to do my thing and take care of patients and it's all about me. No one is screaming "mommy!!!" four thousand times. No one is bitching about wrinkled towels. It's just me and my patients, who may or may not be conscious.
Saturday we are heading home. Sidebar - isn't it funny how we still refer to 'home' as our parents house? Well, I do anyway. I haven't lived at 'home' in well over a decade, but I still call it that. Anyhoo, we are going to visit my family. Everyone lives about two hours away in a quaint little southeastern texas town. I haven't been back since hurricane Ike hit. I admit I've been avoiding it. Seeing the destruction after Rita was bad enough. We will visit with my parents and grandparents, and we are also going to meet my baby brother's new girlfriend. Judging from previous girlfriends it should be a real treat. And by treat I mean freak show. Who knows, maybe he'll surprise me.
Saturday night we are going to the carnival, and that is causing me quite a bit of anxiety. You see, I was involved in a freak carnival accident when I was about 5. It was a beautiful day, and my dad's union was having a carnival and bbq type thing. They had a ride called the scrambler. (Ironic, as it would later scramble my brains.)
There were about 6 cars, each attached to an arm. Each car would spin and the arms moved them around in a circle, and up and down. I kept begging to ride it and finally got my turn. I climbed in with another little boy. (I would later cushion his fall.) The ride began and all was fun and games until the bolt holding our car to the arm started to shake. It shook and shook and the last thing I remember is that damn bolt flying out of its hole. Our car then became airborn and flew through the parking lot, skidding to a stop on the concrete. I flew through the parking lot as well, and broke the little boys fall. Because I'm nice like that.
I ended up with a bald patch on the back of my head and a nasty concussion. I remember my mother waking me up every time I would fall asleep and it really started to piss me off. (See, I've liked sleep ever since I was little.) I now know she was just making sure I wasn't dead. She was a good mom like that.
Ever since then I've been terrified of any kind of carnival rides. I mean, if you think about it, you're putting your life in the hands of a carnie. Come on, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that is probably not a good idea.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
So he takes BB upstairs and I hear splashing around. Good, I think to myself, he is actually going to give him a bath and I can relax! That's what I get for thinking. After about fifteen minutes I go upstairs to get ready for bed and he is getting BB out of the tub. I notice his hair isn't wet. I don't see the soap anywhere. I sigh and ask a question that you should never have to ask your adult husband.
"Did you use soap?"
"Well, no, but I rubbed bubbles on him."
"You have got to be shitting me. I shouldn't have to ask you to use soap when you bathe him! You are a grown man for God's sake!"
"Well he didn't play outside today because it was raining, and it's not even my night to bathe him."
I could feel the vein protruding from my forehead. I was chanting in my head...choose your battles, choose your battles, choose your battles....
I walked out of the bathroom and didn't say another word about it even though I was fuming. Until this morning. Apparently having a vagina also means you lack the ability to let things go. He was brushing his teeth and shaked his wanker at me...his normal morning routine. And apparently I was still mad about last night because I looked at him and screamed "Do you know how many times I've bathed him when it wasn't my night?!?!" He gave me that whoa-you-just-went-all-crazy-bitch-on-me stare, and then all was good. I'm over it. Until it happens again. And I can assure you it will happen again.
All I have to say is that man is lucky he is so pretty.
Monday, November 10, 2008
So my interview was fantastic. I met with HR for about an hour, and then he took me to meet the head nurse in L&D. She interviewed me for another half hour and showed me around. She kept saying how excited she was to see my resume come across her desk. When I left I thanked her for speaking to me and she told me to expect a call from HR very soon. I'm totally taking that as a good sign. You people have no idea how much I want out of corporate America. The backstabbing, the brown nosing, the paper pushing...I can't take it anymore!
On another note, I know I haven't written much lately but that's because I've had major bloggers block. Nothing very interesting has happened to me this past week. We went to the renaissance festival on saturday. It is the biggest gathering of white trash I've ever witnessed. Women were dressed in chain maille with nothing on underneath. (Did I mention I had BB there?) And let me just say ladies, dimples are only cute on your face. Please don't go out in public in a thong if it looks like someone beat your ass and thighs with a bag of nickels, okay? Nobody wants to see that.
That is all for today. I'll leave you with this....I asked BB what he wanted to be when he grows up, he puts his finger on his chin, thinks for a minute, looks at me proudly, and says "a tree!"
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
I've been doing clinicals pretty sporadically because 1) I'm fucking busy and 2) I'd rather be at home with baby boy than at a hospital for 12 hours. The morning started pretty awesomely. I walked onto the unit and there is a full blown code happening. They yell at me to glove up. I look like a deer in the headlights because this lady looks like she is about to die. I put my gloves on and stand in the corner and pray to God no one needs me for anything important, because as far as nursing goes, I'm still pretty retarded. IV's were started, labs were taken, and she was intubated. Phew. The only thing I was asked for was a wet rag so the Dr. could wipe his face. Sweet. That is something I can totally handle. We were promptly floated down to the intermediate care unit (IMCU). I hate IMCU. It's boring. I'm used to being on the critical care unit. The CCU is exciting. People code. You get to see gross and fascinating stuff. It's awesome.
So my nurse and I trudge down to the stupid IMCU and get report on our patients. 91 year old female with dementia/had a stroke, 65 year old female with emphysema and COPD, 60 year old male heart attack, and an 83 year old woman who I'm still not sure what the hell was wrong with. She seemed perfectly fine, and I never gave her any meds. Whatever.
My lady with emphysema and COPD was a biznatch. She yelled at me from the time I got there to the time I left. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe!!" I go into her room and she has taken her oxygen off of her face for the 18th time. "Ms. CrabbyAss, you have to keep the oxygen on your face for it to work." Her daughter came out to the nurses station and looked at me with sympathetic eyes. She said "I know my mom is a huge pain in the ass, so I just wanted to apologize ahead of time." Glad I wasn't the only one that thought she was a pain in the ass. Not 20 minutes later came the "I can't breathe, I can't breathe!!" again. I'll be damned if she hadn't taken that mask off again. She is yelling at me over and over. I said, in my nicest voice ever "Ms. CrabbyAss, if you are able to yell at me, then you are able to breathe." That made her shut up for a glorious hour.
My guy with a heart attack was a peach. He didn't complain one bit. We went in to put an IV in him, not realizing he already had one. I snapped my fingers and said "darn, I was looking forward to practicing on you." He stuck his other arm out and said "you can do it on this arm darlin', needles don't bother me." What a trooper. And no, I did not put another IV in him just for practice.
Now for the coup de gras. The one thing that has ever happened that made me question my choice of profession. One of my friends that is also doing her clinicals at the same hospital came up to me and had this look of dispair on her face. I asked her what was wrong and she looked at me and said "I have to do a digital removal of a fecal impaction." So, of course I made fun of her. That's how we roll. My nurse heard me making fun of her and as punishment (plus he's kind of sadistic and likes to see me squirm) made me go help.
Stop reading if you're eating, and/or have a weak stomach.
This patient was a 95 year old woman that hadn't pooped in over four weeks. FOUR WEEKS. Do you know how painful that would be? Shellie and I gloved up, and lubed up. Please don't make me stick my finger in there...Please don't make me stick my finger in there... "SPM - come over here and feel this." Oh.ma.gah. He wants me to stick my finger up a butt. Not only that, but he wants me to stick my finger up a butt with the sole purpose of digging out poo. I think I threw up in my mouth a little.
I slowly walked around the bed. I put a liberal amount of ky jelly on my finger. "Feel that and see if you think an enema would work." GAH! I put my finger in and didn't feel anything. Know why? Because I had missed and my finger was in her vagina. Can you say humiliation? I promptly remedied the situation and stuck it in the backdoor. My finger was met with a mass the size of a grapfruit that was literally as hard as a rock. At that point I stopped being so grossed out and started feeling really bad for this patient. I can't imagine how painful that must have been. It was a painstaking process, but we got it all out. She was so grateful and so relieved, and we left her resting peacefully for the first time in weeks.
When we left the room my nurse slapped me on the back and said "welcome to nursing!"
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The air conditioner was broken. I know, that's a huge surprise. I remember being so hot that I thought I was going to die right there in the back seat. And how painful it was to remove my sweaty little legs from the vinyl when we reached our destination. The best part about the car though was that the floor boards in the back seat were missing. Like instead of a floor, there was nothing. They had rusted completely away so there was a 12x12" hole on each side. Uber safe for three children to ride back there. Anyhow, my cousins and I would throw pennies while we were riding in the back seat because they made a cool spark on the road. And the faster we would go, the better the spark would be. Sometimes they would fly back up and pop us in the face, but it was all in good fun.
PS - I think I spent a good portion of my youth with a contact high.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I guess it all started around age 2. My dad had banged my mom's best friend shortly after they were married, so mom and I moved in with my aunt and uncle and two older cousins. They were both girls, one was 9 months older than me, the other 3 years older. My mother was 18 at the time, and my aunt and uncle weren't much older. Now that I think back it's actually a miracle the three of us survived.
We didn't have a lawnmower (huge shocker!), so we were each handed a pair of scissors and my aunt told us to "get after it", in her uneducated country twang, while pointing at the front yard. I shit you not. We had to trim the grass around the front walk with scissors. It was a painstaking process to say the least, and our little fingers would be sore from all the chopping. But we did a damn fine job if I do say so myself. I personally would never in a million years trust my three year old with scissors, but I guess that was a different time.
We didn't have a vacuum cleaner either. Actually we didn't have much in the way of "luxuries". No worries for them though, they just made us pick the carpet lint and other debris off of the carpet with our fingers. We would each be handed a grocery bag to put the crap we picked off in. Even after all of this, I never realized how poor we were. That was until the day my uncle was drinking hot water from the tap. I said, "why are you drinking hot water?" He looked at me and said, "it's cold outside." My young little brain still couldn't process what he meant, and I guess I had a confused look on my face. He rolled his eyes and said, "you drink hot water when it's cold out, and cold when it's hot." It was at that moment I realized that we may not be like the other kids we went to school with.
One thing we did have was a rusty old ford that my uncle drove. One day my aunt set us up for washing dishes, and she went to do something outside. We heard a loud crash and then lots of yelling. Turns out she had pulled open the tailgate of this rust bucket and the sides of the truck fell clean off. I'd never seen my uncle so mad. He kept yelling, "I told you once if I've told you a thousand times, you do NOT wash my truck and you do NOT open the damn tailgate because the mf'er will fall apart!!" It was pretty fucking hilarious even at the age of 4. The truck looked very similiar to this one:
Things that were seen a lot in our house growing up:
Monday, October 20, 2008
I have been fighting this awful cold or flu-like illness for 10 freaking days now. Friday I was laying on the couch in just a tshirt and underwear. BB came over and sat near my feet. He looked over at me and pointed at my butt.
"Is that your big butt Mom?"
"Um, yeah, I guess so..."
"It's naaastyyyy" (while making a grimacing little face)
"I love you too son"
Now I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me, and my 'nasty' butt. I wear a size 6. Apparently BB thinks any womans butt is nasty. Trust me, I wanted further clarification.
Saturday we went to the pumpkin patch. BB wanted to ride the train. Train = 10 cars hitched to the back of a tractor. The ride was bumpy to say the least. BB was snuggled up between BD and I. I notice he is staring at my boobs. He pokes one and says "why do those keep going bong bong bong" while bouncing his head up and down. I thought the guy sitting across from us was going to piss himself.
And the comment that made it all worth it: BB pointing to the Victoria's Secret catalog..."hey mommy, that's a picture of you!" I love that little guy.
I can see where he might be confused though. I totally look like this (in my dreams):
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Yesterday we had to go to a meeting called Living a Charmed Life. "What does living a charmed life mean to you?" asked the speaker. "Not having to go to stupid meetings like this just for the free mexican food" I muttered to BFF. "Would you like to have a charmed life like Katie Holmes" asked the speaker. BFF looked at me and whispered "negative ghostrider, I like my non-scientology beliefs just fine, thanks." I'm actually surprised BFF and I haven't been fired yet from this great establishment. We managed to get through the meeting without putting ourselves on anyones radar and/or being volunteered for another stupid committee. Seriously, they lure you into meetings with free food and the next thing you know you are heading up the scrapbook committee or teaching african refugees how to read in your free time.
On top of all this, almost everyone we work with has a PhD, so having a normal conversation with any of them is completely out of the question. I made the mistake of telling one of them I was taking Microbiology last semester. The next day there were no less than 7 textbooks on my desk relating to the 'wonderful world of Microbiology'. At least that is what the post it said that was on top of them.
Three semesters until graduation. Oh, and guys, by the way....
Thursday, October 9, 2008
So I'm driving home yesterday and I'm almost to the 'burbs where I live, when traffic starts slowing down *shock* as I near my exit. As I creep slowly toward the exit ramp I can tell that there is a little truck half on the shoulder of the road, half still in my lane. Fucktards.
As I go to pass these dumbasses I notice they are fighting with eachother. Like full contact fighting. There were two guys in this tiny single cab truck beating the shit out of eachother. I'm pretty sure they were gay because they were more like sissy slaps than they were full on punches. And the driver guy was really pissed and was waving his hands around in that "heeeyyy girl" type fashion, but it was a very angry "heey girl". And then he popped the passenger right on the mouth with the back of his hand. And the passenger started bleeding and flipped down the mirror so he could wipe his chin off. (Probably not the first time he's had to do that.)
I really felt sorry for the passenger because he is obviously the taker in the relationship and he just got bitch slapped by the giver, who frankly, looked more like a dingy trucker than a queen. But who am I to judge.
Then the truck started backing into traffic because I guess the dingy trucker queen was in such a tiff that he let his foot slip off the break. Then the taker must have said something really smartass because the giver popped him again and they just took off into the sunset. I really enjoy a good love story, don't you?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
So I'm minding my own business, pulling up to a red light when this biznatch in a gold corolla (with shiny rims, klassy) cuts me off and comes within mere inches of my front bumper. Being in a shitty mood in the first place, of course I honk at her...and may have flailed my arms a bit. You know, the arm flailing. It's the body language way of saying "what the fuck was that you gangsta-leaning-hooptie-driving-no-insurance-having asshole?!"
So I may have honked my horn a few seconds longer than was necessary. I may have flailed my arms a little more than I needed to get my point across. Whatever it was, she was not happy with me. She got in the lane to the left of me and just stopped. She stopped because she knew I would have to pull past her at one point. She rolled down her windows and turned off the music. "Shit, she turned of her music. She is so going to kick my ass."
I was thinking to myself that this it. This is where I've pissed off one too many people in traffic. I'm about to become the breaking news story on channel 2. "White female found shot to death in her SUV. Apparent arm flailing/road rage homicide. Full story at 10 o'clock."
I flipped open my phone so if I needed to dial 911, that would be one less step I would have to take. She looked like she was going to get out of the car for a second. I was fully prepared to exit the car brandishing my favorite pair of brown stilettos. Don't laugh, they're pretty sharp on the heel. I may be a wuss, but I could do some damage with a shoe. That is until she caps my ass, then I'll be left pretty much defenseless.
Thanks be to God the light turned green at that moment and my life was spared. I cut down the nearest side street to get the hell away from her. I got away unscathed, but learned a valuable lesson. Apparently you should just flip people off because the arm flailing gets you into way more trouble.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
6:00 - curse alarm clock, shower, get ready for work
6:30 - wake up BB, bribe him into going potty, and get him ready for school
BB - I don't wanna go to school!
Me - You have to go to school and mommy has to go to work, that's just how it is.
BB - WHY????
Me - So you can learn stuff
BB - I'm learned enough
Me - Clearly
6:45 - drop BB off at school and head to work
7:10 - get to work and sprint to my office, hoping no one will notice I'm late
----- in between doing actual work, make a grocery list, read three chapters, write a paper, and respond to the three mandatory discussion questions about what to do with a used catheter, does the morgue really prefer that you leave tubing in place, and how to handle your patient dying
5:45 - leave work, woo hoo!!!
6:15 - grocery shopping at ghetto kroger cuz I'm too tired to battle walmart
6:45 - get home, unload groceries, start making dinner, unload dishwasher
7:00 - while dinner is cooking, put together next nights dinner in crock pot
7:15 - eat dinner, make brownies with BB, then clean up the kitchen
Me - don't eat the batter BB
BB - Why?
Me - because it has raw eggs in it and you'll get salmonella
BB - Daddy does it.
Me - *sigh*
7:45 - bathe the little monster....
BB - (pointing to his penis) Is this my toy?
Me - *horrified* No, that is not a toy.
BB - Can I play with it.
Me - **wishing I was anywhere BUT in this bathroom at this very second** No, you can't pl...well, yes, but not around other people....alone. No, well, just....Big Daddyyyyyy!!!!!
8:00 - wrestle him into his pj's, stuff a brownie into my fat face wondering WTF I was thinking letting him have sugar this late
8:15 - get stuff ready for the next day, make a mental note to set alarm for 15 miutes earlier so maybe, just maybe, we won't be late - again.
9:00 - ???? - study until I fall asleep and subsequently wake up with my face stuck to pg 187 of my pharmacology book. Yeah, I drool. What about it?
Sooo yesterday BFF and I were outside 'getting some fresh air' as we usually do after lunch. We are in deep conversation about important shit like politics. Okay, not really, we were talking about our hair and the effects of low lights versus high lights. Anyhow, mid sentence BFF stops and says "oh.ma.gah". I know, after hearing that, when I turn my head to the left I'm going to witness some sort of ghetto debauchery that only happens in Greenspoint. And I was right.
There was a woman on a bike with a baby. When I say "woman", I mean she was like 16, and when I say "on a bike" I mean someone elses bike that she just jacked, and when I say "with a baby" I mean she had the baby propped up on the nut bar just dangling there. The baby couldn't have been more than 12 months old. Seriously. He was sitting on the nut bar (I don't know the proper name for it okay?) with his little feet dangling dangerously close to the tire spokes. It made me really sad after I stopped laughing.
Then it got a little weirder. She stopped, picked her kid up by the elbow (as most fantastic mothers do) and put him on the sidewalk. She was obviously pissed at his lack of motor skills and ability to hang on to the nutbar. She threw his shoes on the ground. The poor little guy hurried to put his shoes on. He also didn't have pants on, in case you were wondering. She threw the bike down right there in the middle of the sidewalk and left it there. That is how I came to the not so shocking conclusion that she stole it. She grabbed the little boy and just walked off. Possibly one of the weirdest things I've ever seen in Gunspoint.
BFF and I just sat there with our mouths hanging open for a good two minutes. I looked at her and said "did that shit just really happen?"
Thursday, October 2, 2008
It is so hard trying to do it all. Work full time, school full time (well, more than full time, 15 hours to be exact), plus keep up with wife and mommy duties. I'll be the first to admit that I've stretched myself too thin. I work well under pressure though. Even if I am on the verge of a mental breakdown most days. Thank god I have my good friend miller lite and a fantastic husband to help get me through. I have never been so physically and mentally exhausted as I am right now. My house looks like an all male dorm at the moment. I need a maid. A live in maid that happens to be a personal chef as well.
On another note. Is there some kind of potty training miracle advice out there? I swear we will be dropping BB off at college with a laptop and economy box of depends, cuz you know pull-ups don't come in adult sizes. I think he pees in his pants just to spite me now. Literally 5 seconds after I ask if he needs to go he will pee on himself. He's all like "whatever Ma, I does what I wants." Not really, but that's what I imagine is going on in that thick little head of his. Then he tells me to take his socks off because they're wet. No shit sherlock, you keep whizzing on yourself! The other day while I was in the shower he took off his pants and peed directly in the center of my bed. Hands on his hips and all and moving his body back and forth like his penis was a damn sprinkler. Potty training SUCKS!
And on yet another note, I had my first clinical at the hospital on Saturday. 7a-7p in the ICU, not for lightweights my friend. I never thought I'd ever say these words out loud, but I had to confiscate a bag of chips ahoy from some girls panties. I also got to do a catheter, practice an IV (yes I said 'practice' ha!), and empty a post surgical ostomy bag that was full of blood. Look it up. And you know what? I loved every minute of it! This is already promising to be a very exciting career.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
2. I've seen a lot of weird shit driving in houston. Women putting on makeup, people working on their laptops, people reading the paper or a book. Yesterday I saw a big burly black biker (ha, say that three times fast!) cruising down I-45. He had a, (are you ready for this?), Louis Vuitton messenger bag strapped to the back of the motorcycle. The only way he can even hope to keep his street cred is if he just jacked it from some lady at the mall.
3. I wasn't even here for 10 minutes this morning when trumpet nose started in with his phlegm gargling. I'm this close to going chuck norris on his ass.
That is all for now.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Don't feed the dogs from your plate.
Don't pick your nose.
Don't pile drive the dog when he's sleeping. (or any other time for that matter)
Don't pull the dogs ears.
Don't take your clothes off.
Don't poke the dog in the eye.
Don't stick anything up the dogs nose. (are you feeling sorry for my dogs yet?)
Don't play on the computer.
DON'T STICK ANYTHING IN THE SOCKET!!!
Don't slap your penis, you'll want to use it later.
Don't pour water out of the tub.
Don't put on mommy's heels...you're going to give your father a heart attack.
Don't color on the walls.
Don't color on the carpet.
Don't color on yourself, I don't care if it looks like a tattoo.
Don't touch the scissors.
Don't spray febreeze on the dog, I don't care if he stinks.
Don't play with the blinds, you're going to choke yourself!
Don't open the front door.
Don't investigate what's under the dogs tail.
Don't throw your toys off the balcony, I don't care how cool the noise is.
Don't throw your toys down the stairs.
Don't talk to your penis, it doesn't understand you. (unless you're apologizing for the abuse you put it through)
Don't pee in the backyard, I don't care how good your aim is!
I know it is big enough to be a helmet, but don't put mommy's bra on your head.
That is all I can think of for now :)
Friday, August 22, 2008
So there is this guy at work, we'll call him Hockey McLoogerson. He is becoming increasingly more annoying by the day. He moved to my group a couple of months ago. He is one of those "I know everything and if you've done something I've done it ten times better" people. Highly annoying in a meeting when he interjects his vast knowledge every five seconds. The other day I was in the middle of a presentation and Mr. I-know-everything kept on with the "did you know this and did you know that's". If looks could kill he would be a rotting carcass on the floor of the 4th floor conference room.
The one thing Hockey does that is like nails on a chalkboard to me is his incessant nose blowing, and loogie hocking. He either has one helluva coke problem or some allergies that need serious medical intervention. Trumpet nose blows so fucking hard I'm surprised he doesn't blow out gray matter. And apparently, that's not good enough because then he snorts louder than a baby elephant. The snorting is then followed by the hocking in his throat that seems to go on for ten good minutes. It literally makes me sick to my stomach, so I had no choice but to address it with the stupidvisor.
Me: "Do you hear trumpet nose in there? I don't think I can take much more of this!!" Stupidvisor: "I guess I never really noticed"
Me: **picking jaw up off floor** "You never NOTICED? It sounds like he's trying to mate with a lion in there! It seriously makes me want to vomit."
Stupidvisor: "I think he's been sick, maybe that's the problem"
Me: "Yeah, he's sick alright" **stomps back to office to devise revenge plan**
I am really thinking about leaving an anonymous note on his desk. I'm open to suggestions on how it should read.
Posting my new friend Crystal's suggestion:
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
I drove straight to the gym and ran in waving my test at BD like a crazy lady. I was crying and just kept saying, "we're pregnant, we're finally pregnant!" He had a stunned deer in the headlights look on his face, which I imagine all new dads-to-be to have when they hear the news of an impending birth.
The next nine months were unpleasant to say the least. I puked every hour on the hour, even in the middle of the night. I swelled up to the size of the Michelin Man. I wasn't nice to anyone. And I had hot flashes that would rival being on the inside of a volcano. But even after all that, I thanked God every day for giving us this little miracle. The moment we found out he was a boy BD threw his hands up in the air like he had just scored the game winning touchdown. I looked at him with tears rolling down my face and said, "We're going to have a son." We both cried, and the nurse cried along with us.
I went into labor in the middle of the night on August 18, 2005. Contractions were about ten minutes apart. I was uncomfortable, but told BD to go to work anyway. He kept calling to check on me. I plopped my fat ass on the couch and stayed there all day, only getting up for the incessant pee breaks.
Around 2pm I called and told him he needed to come home, that the labor was real. An hour later the contractions were three minutes apart, so we headed to the hospital. They kept making me walk around the hallways. I hadn't eaten all day, I couldn't have water, and the pain I was in was indescribable. Irritable is putting it lightly. At one point I told my poor husband that he could shove the ice chips up his ass, and if he didn't bring me some actual water to drink it would be the last mistake he ever made. No one ever brought me water, but they did back away from the bed.
Then came the epidural. God bless whoever invented this thing. I don't care how big that needle was, I would have shoved it in my back myself at that point. Ahhh, sweet relief. I told the anesthesiologist if I wasn't already married, I would marry him on the spot. Things progressed pretty quickly from there.
Sweet Baby Boy was born at 2:17am on August 20, 2005 after just a few pushes. He weighed 7lbs 2oz and was 20" long. Ten fingers, ten toes, bright blue eyes, and wispy strawberry blonde hair that had grown in a mohawk. He was beautiful and perfect in every way, and it was and still is the happiest day of my life.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Every morning I get out of the shower, sigh, and walk over to my bra. I nearly dislocate my shoulder trying to get the three clasps closed in the back. Yes, three. Actually I wish there were four clasps. I do not want to be held liable for taking out someone's eye should those three tiny pieces of metal fail me some day.
By the time I get the clasps closed, I have accumulated middle and bottom cleavage sweat. Bottom cleavage, you ask? Yes bottom cleavage. I could hide my entire hand underneath one boob. That, my friend, is bottom cleavage. I pull the straps over my arms and they nestle into the crater on my shoulder that has been created over the years from trying to support these mammoths. I grab my bra on each side and jiggle it vigorously side to side until my boobs settle into my bra. Sometimes tucking and adjusting is needed if the jiggle method doesn't work. This is every morning folks, just to put on my godforsaken bra.
Now, let's talk about shopping for a bra. Should be simple, right? I mean, bras are sold everywhere. Sha! Let me take you on a little trip I like to call my worst nightmare. I go into Victoria's Secret, which is the only place I can buy bras, unless of course I want to spend $80 to special order one. A $10 hanes bra from wal-mart just will not cut it for me. I walk in, past the frilly cute bras, and into the "good God are those things real?!" section. Guess what those bras look like. Let me tell you.
They come in three colors, black, nude, and white. No lace, no frills, nothing. I have to go to the bottom drawer. If you have been to VS you know what I'm talking about. The drawers go from smallest sizes on top to largest on bottom. I'm surprised they don't keep my size underneath the bottom drawer. I open the drawer and there are about three bras in there, because really, why keep stock in something that hideous. I grab a nude one, I already have three, but I have no other options. I walk to the cash register carrying said bra that is bigger than my purse, by the way. That'll be $55 please. Yes, I have to pay that much for a stupid, ugly bra.
Let me tell you about the one time I did go bargain basement on a bra. I needed a strapless bra (ha ha!) for this cute little dress I had bought. I was at target and thought I would look there. The biggest size they have is 36D. I figured I could wedge myself into a couple of sizes smaller for this one party. Plus it had straps like a halter top, which was perfect for what I needed. This bra was $10. I was pretty proud of myself for finding such a bargain! I get home and show BD my new find.
**Proudly holding up new bra**
"It was only ten bucks!"
"Is that gonna fit you?"
"It's just a couple of sizes too small and I figure with a couple of tucks I can wrestle myself into it….besides, it's only for one night"
"I doubt it, but okay"
I begin the bra wrestle process. I shove, tuck, and jiggle until it looks just right. I look at him with a big 'I told you so' smile. And that's when it happened.
RRRIIIPPPP – SNAP – HORRIBLE BLINDING PAIN!!!!
The bra strap had ripped right through the fabric under the sheer weight of my warlocks. It then proceeded to snap backwards and hit me in the eye. I grabbed my eye and fell on the floor. BD is bending over holding his stomach because he is laughing so hard.
"Stop laughing asshole, I think I've been blinded!"
**laughing so hard he has tears running down his face**
"I'm serious! It hit me in the eye!"
**laughing harder because he thought it hit me in the forehead** Apparently an eye injury is much funnier.
I take off the death trap, throw it on the ground and curse it. "Damn you you cheap ass bra!!!" Meanwhile the bra is thinking, "Damn YOU, you big tittied monster!" BD catches his breath long enough to ask if I'm seriously injured. My eye was okay after the tearing subsided and swelling went down. I definitely learned my lesson about cheap bras that day. Your vision is just not worth saving a couple of bucks.
This doesn't even scratch the surface of what I have to go through because of my "blessing", but I have to get back to work. Maybe I'll blog about more boob antics in the future.
Monday, June 16, 2008
We head to BFF's house to hang out for the evening. Low key, remember? We pull in the driveway and hear screaming. I chalk it up to the wild banchee children that live across the street. (WTF is up with all the screaming kids do nowadays anyhow??) So, we usher the kids into the house and I'm one of the last ones to walk in. Suddenly a car alarm goes off. Still, perfectly normal for a houston suburb.
Then we hear a woman screaming, and the children screaming at us..."He's hitting her, he's hitting her!" I turn around. Sure enough the husband is on top of the wife in their car, beating the shit out of her. She had set off the panic button in the car to get our attention. Their two little boys were on the porch watching. It was awful.
I scream to the guys to go help. I scream at the girls to call 911. BFF, completely oblivious to what is happening, calls 911 while mouthing to me with utter confusion "why am I calling 911?"
Another friend is inside with the kids, BFF is on the phone with the 911 operator (still trying to figure out what the hell is going on), and the guys have wrestled this guy off of his wife and are trying to talk him down. Wife beater then runs in his house to get his pit to "attack us". HA! The pit was a puppy and could give a shit less what was going on, he ran straight at us wagging his tail, begging for someone to pet him. Nice guard dog, jackass.
Then we were all called "white n---ers". I had to laugh at the irony of what was happening. Cracked out shirtless wife beater + pit bull + pistol....rightttt.... In retrospect we are all pretty lucky we didn't get our asses shot.
We did learn that the police have a three minute response time. Not too shabby. They wasted no time in slamming his ass down on the hood of the car. Cuff and stuff baby.
So, to sum it up, dinner, domestic violence, and witness testimony. Low key Friday my ass. I think it's now a proven fact that we are magnets for drama.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
I'm trying a combination of the Slim Fast and Lean Cuisine diet. Regarding the latter, what kind of sadistic bastard (because you know it was a man!) invented these things? I pulled mine out of the freezer here at work today. I flipped it over to look at the directions. Six to seven minutes. It takes six fucking minutes to heat something in the microwave? Here's a little tip for you, Lean Cuisine creators, you do NOT want to make a dieting woman wait six minutes for her crappy ass diet food. I go from hungry to raving bitch in about three minutes flat. But that's neither here nor there.
I begrudgingly open the stupid box, throw it in our filthy work microwave, and punch in five minutes, fifteen seconds. Because I'll be damned if I will give them the pleasure of making me wait the entire six minutes.
And I wait. And wait. And wait. The intern walks through the kitchen three times and keeps looking at me like I'm a loon. Move it along, you tiny little 19 year old, there's nothing to see here. I silently giggle to myself because I know someday she will be the fat almost thirty year old waiting for her godforsaken diet food to heat up.
Ding! Finally. I walk down to BFF's office because that is where we have our lunch date most days. I pull off the cellophane and just groan. I shit you not when I say there were three tiny pieces of meat in there. Well, not even pieces really. More like the remnants that fall off of the roast when you are cutting it. That's probably what happened. They were cutting off actual pieces for the Hungry Man frozen dinners, and they have a collection area for the remnants that fall off. That's what they put in the Lean Cuisines.
Now, I'm going to be generous and say there were maybe seven green beans and two carrots. All of this was in a lovely brown, slightly MSG tasting, gravy. And to accompany this feast, was a side of dried crusty looking mashed taters. Dried? Crusty? After being in the microwave for six minutes? No way.
I ate it in about two seconds flat, grimacing the whole time at the God awful taste. Do they really think that tiny amount of food is going to satiate even the tiniest person (even the intern) for more than an hour?! Needless to say, I was starving an hour later.
That Hershey bar never had a chance.