A Question For The Ladies

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Do any of you stare at your boobs forlornly and then pull or push them up higher with your hands as you imagine your faded youth and the even saggier boobs to come?

Alright, fine. Don't participate! But, you know what? I've been doing that after almost every bath or shower and sometimes when I'm just changing my clothes.

I think it's mostly because this new boob low was reached just a few months ago. Actually, I had just gotten used to the previous hang level when I looked down in the bath one day and thought Oh, OK...I guess this is where they like to be now...Oh, well...

This is going to sound extreme, but the aging process does appear to be a bit like a car wreck. There's no schedule to the atrocities and when you pass a new tangle of twisted metal and confused passengers you are absolutely horrified. And yet, you cannot look away.

I'm not loosing sleep over these things: the increased ear wax, pendulous breasts, odd smells, gray facial hairs, memory loss or preponderance of whiskers. I'm just ready to feel less like I'm in free-fall. You know?

The Chew Isn't Working

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Has anyone been watching The Chew? It's the show ABC killed All My Children for. Now, I'm going to admit my bias toward soaps up front; I'd watched AMC off and on for around 16 years, though for the past two our relationship was mostly 'off'.

However, I wanted The Chew to work out. I love cooking and am a huge fan of cooking shows, even ones with stupid names. I've now watched about a week's worth of episodes and can state without a doubt that it's semi-painful to watch. Separately, all the hosts (There are five. FIVE, people!) seem likeable enough. Together, though? It's just too messy. Here are my reasons why it's not working.

Why The Chew Sorta Sucks

1) There's already four chef/food people in the house, we don't need an official moderator. Clinton Kelly, why are you here?

2) Even with Clinton, the conversations are always awkward. I don't think any of the hosts are used to dealing with a live audience...Or each other, for that matter.

3) Dammit, there's just too many bitches on stage! And they're never all doing the same thing. Two people are standing, three are sitting, someone's cooking, someone's chopping, someone else is gesticulating wildly...THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH GOING ON AT ONCE!

4) No one here is a journalist or has any real interviewing skills. Yesterday Mario Batali asked guest and New York mayor Michael Bloomberg, "What do you expect from a New Yorker?" I could see Bloomberg's befuddlement and really wanted him to answer, "Well, the least you can do is not be a dick." But, he answered without a hint of sarcasm. Damn!

5) No one here is Regis. The hosts tell stories, but none of them have the right oomph to make them pop. Cue additional awkwardness.

6) Crap, I just found out they have a correspondent. Are you really telling me Clinton couldn't do the remote pieces for them? It's not like he's running a restaurant at night. Again...Too. Many. People.

7) The food looks good, but the prep work lacks even the most remote appeal. Part of this is due to the lackluster set; it just barely looks like a kitchen in there.

8) None of the hosts seem to be very well prepared. And, on top of that, they seem to be trying really hard to make us like them. As a result they come off as super desperate.

I'm not the only one thinking the show needs some major tweaking to work. Even at it's silliest, AMC was still a better, less jumbled and boring, package.

Have you seen The Chew? What do you think?

Heart. Is. Breaking.

So, you remember me telling you about all the stay cats in my neighborhood? Well, today County Animal Control stopped by and started rounding them up. I'm heartbroken. I talked with the lady who was setting the traps in my yard this morning and she said they hold them for a week to see if anyone claims them. Then? Then, if the cats don't look like they're good with people, they euthanize them.

After being tricked with food and trapped in a cage the cats only get one week to suddenly be good with people or they're dead. I hate this.

I had to stand there and watch as one of our favorites, Julia, got trapped in the cage. She was so scared. I'm just praying she calms down enough so that they can adopt her out. Unless we get money back from our taxes we won't be able to take her in. As it is we're already pretty full with three cats, but we are considering going to get Julia.


This is Julia in 2009, she was still a kitten. It's hard to believe we may never see her again.

Even worse, a pregnant cat (like Miller and Harris, the gray cats in the top photo) who doesn't get claimed in a week may be euthanized even if they are good with people. 'Cause who's adopting a pregnant cat? So even though Miller is super-adoptable (we pet her all the time and she loves it), she may be killed just because she's knocked up (if they catch her, I hope they don't).

My question is, where was County Animal Control four years ago when we moved in? The trapper I talked to today said that they noticed a problem so they're trying to take care of it, but there have been strays since we moved in. Why the fuck couldn't they have stepped up their efforts before HUBS and I and the guy across the street got attached to the stays?

I know we're not the ones who'll actually be physically hurt if they strays don't get adopted, but this feels like a giant Fuck you and everything you care about! from the universe. Especially after all the loss my family has suffered. It's like one more Ha HA, try to deal with THIS! from life. (And yes, I know life gives us those on a regular basis to keep us on our toes and grateful for the good things and yada yada...Doesn't make this any easier. Pitiful as it may be I feel like these cats are my friends.)

I HATE HATE HATE THIS TUESDAY. And I really hope you're having a better day than me. Really better.

Word To The Wise

If you're using the NuvaRing for birth control, don't skip a month because you don't have enough money for the prescription. Find the cash, yo. Especially if you were prone to heavy periods prior to starting on the thing, because your body? She will not like that.

I skipped my ring usage back in July, and as a result had my period for almost the full month of August and a heavy period in September. I'm tellin' you, it's like my four years on the thing didn't matter at all! And? Do you know how stressful it is to have low-grade bleeding for three weeks? I've never used any other form of lady-time-interruptus birth control, so I don't know if this would happen with the others, but...Gah!

The one ring...it really does rule them all.

What Just Happened?

You don't want a photo of what this post is actually about. Really...

So, I was at work today. Doing my thing, everything was going fine. Then, I looked down at the table I was working at. I saw a small black oval surrounded by what looked like a water stain. Using a calculator, I moved it further back on the table. It rolled. Then I used a small box I'd never have to pick up to see if it was...well, soft. It was.

God Dammit. I knew the warehouse I worked in wasn't the fucking cleanest place on earth. I mean, there's a roach trap on the kitchen counter, after all. But this... Looks like a turd. Rolls like a turd. Smashes like a turd. Shit, y'all. I found a TURD on the table at work!

Granted, finding one is better than finding many. And finding small animal (or large insect) droppings is better than finding the human variety. But this? Totally uncalled for. I felt hot, dizzy and sick to my stomach for the rest of the work day.

Fucking turd...

The Strangest Things

X marks the spot, all right.

Last Thursday I had another in a life-long line of odd things happen to me.

I'd been wearing a Band-Aid on my finger to protect a dry, raw spot from all the paper I flip through at work. I was getting ready in the morning, and, by the time I was putting on my gloves, noticed that it had fallen off. Not a big deal, I figured I'd find it later.

So, about 8 pm that night I head to the bathroom before eating dinner. What do you think I found in my underwear? Yeah, that's right internet. My Band-Aid. But, that's not even the weird part. It wasn't just hanging out in there all day, nonononono. IT WAS STUCK TO MY PERSONAL LADY HAIRS. ALL DAY. You read that correctly. I had to cut a Band-Aid out of my...area.

This is the type of thing that could only happen to the girl who had a bird shit into her non-convertible car while she was going 65 mph on the high way (my passenger side window was rolled down about an inch...No, I'm not kidding. Really did happen...).

Stress

I feel your pain, Zebra. I feel your pain...

First off let me report that I'm working again. The warehouse called me back almost two weeks ago and then made me a permanent temp (meaning no more getting called off when they run out of work, I go in every day.) So, for the meantime HUBS and I have some hope of financial survival.

For the past two years (yes, it's been a full TWO YEARS since I left my job in the hopes of finding my true work) living without a second steady income in the house has been exceptionally difficult. There's been depression, anger, massive anger, sadness, extreme sadness, hopelessness and every other negative emotion you can imagine.

Mostly, though, there's just been stress. Stress for me. Stress for HUBS. Stress for the air around us at any given moment. They say stress can cause physical symptoms and after two years of dealing with high levels of it, I completely believe it.

In these past two years I've:

1) Had a significant portion of my hair fall out.
2) Suffered extremely disturbing nightmares on an almost nightly basis.
3) Gotten the flu even though I rarely leave the house.
4) Gotten food poisoning three times, when I had previously only had it four times in the past 33 years.
5) Had chest pains that went away as soon as I got called back to the warehouse.
6) Had liver problems.
7) Been diagnosed with a skin condition I'd never heard of but my dermatologist says is quite common, pityriasis rosea, which causes dry, dark, itchy blotches over large areas of the torso (yes, it's as sexy as it sounds).
8) Suffered through a period in 2008 with a weeping wound in a very personal area that was caused by God-only-knows-what (again, so, so sexy).
9) Had several bouts of severe lower back pain.
10)Had random stomach pains.
11)Gotten bloody noses because of dried up nostrils/sinuses.
12)Gotten more chin hairs that required yanking (I know this is more likely due to aging, but at this point how is stress not a good thing to blame?)
13)Lost most interest in sex.
14)Spent a period of two weeks where I woke up from a good night's sleep crying every. single. morning.
15)Stomach problems that led to bathroom problems which led to lots of plunging and me deciding to buy stock in whoever makes Quilted Northern to possibly get some of my money back.

I may have even forgotten some stuff, but this is a pretty complete list that takes us up to now. Since the new year I've been meditating, deep breathing and trying to concentrate on the basis of what I want for me and HUBS: for us to be healthy, wealthy and happy. It's actually helping me deal with the stress of having another job I dislike to make money and dig us out of our unemployment-caused financial hole. I actually feel happier and less freaked out.

And I'm looking for better paying work (I only get $7.50 an hour at the warehouse). I interviewed last week for a receptionist job at a radio station. That'll pay lots more and I won't have to stand all day. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

What has extreme stress caused in you before?

Update: I totally forgot about October's athlete's foot travesty. Holy Jesus, y'all! I would literally wake up in the middle of the night because my feet itched so bad. God, I'm glad that's over.

Well...Ok

Yup. It's pretty obvious to me now - I think I'm depressed again. And I don't mean that random depression that comes when you think about something upsetting and then goes on its way when you watch your favorite tv show. I'm talking about the real, lasting depression that had me on Effexor for about five years.

Other than my anger/rage issues, I've also been feeling really overwhelmed. Even though I know in reality I barely do anything. I have three stories to write every week for my one freelance gig and two stories a month for the other gig. But...But I often feel like I have no time to do what I want or need to. There's this constant nagging in my brain to do a huge list of things, and thinking about this list makes me tired, saps whatever little energy I have and leads to me not wanting to do anything. So, often, I don't.

Last week during a moment of bright, shining clarity when I woke up in the middle of the night, I had a realization. What did I realize? I'm bored. That's right, I'm bored with my main source of income, writing bar/club reviews for an entertainment website.

I'm tired of the running around and the low pay and not getting reimbursed for the cash I spend on food and drink and having to put these excursions on my credit cards and racking up more debt and never knowing when I'll get paid or how much they'll decide to give me when I do.

This week, for instance, I'm doing a special on pies for Thanksgiving. The last time I did one of these holiday themed specials my pay was knocked down to $50 instead of my usual $100 because I didn't talk about enough different things. So, this time I asked my editor how many places I'd need to visit to get my usual fee. He said eight. One piece of pie from eight separate restaurants. Do you know how much running around that is? And how much money spending that is? For only 100 fucking dollars? Shit, I am tired.

And no matter how many jobs I apply for, I just can't keep up that hopeful feeling I had briefly that something with full-time money is around the corner. Just. Can't. Do it. I actually had another interview on Wednesday last week. During the interview the woman revealed that I would only get, at most, $7.75 an hour for this job. I'd wanted $10, which I thought was reasonable and already really, really shitty. It was a front desk job at a local YMCA; haven't heard from her and don't think I got this one either. Even though I have eight years experience handling front desk stuff.

I don't know what I'm supposed to be good for anymore. This whole process is demoralizing.

Hate.

October!

Dammit, October! Stop raining all the time, already. It's depressing. And makes my basement wet. And makes it hard to drive to my job interview in Belleville, IL. A place I know nothing about other that it's a half hour drive into another state. Yeah, October, it was real sweet how you didn't even start raining today until I left the house for my interview. Nice work, October!

STOP IT!!

A Bear Will Not Be Eating My Head This Year, No Siree

See those buildings? I prefer being around things like that. Yeah.

HUBS and I had a ridiculously hard week last week. We worked our silly little asses off and I will talk about it at some point, but not right now.

Right now, I will discuss with you, internet, how I, citygirl, almost went into the woods.

HUBS' folks rent some cabin thingy in the middle of Nowhere, MO called Bunker Hill. Every year his parents and his sister, Tiny Sarcasm's family go up there for a weekend. This year they invited us.

Now, I have said this many times on this blog and elsewhere, but here it is again: I do not like outdoorsy things. I do not like bugs, sleeping in cabins, going to outhouses, wild animals running amok, being in the middle of nowhere, or excessive no-one-around-to-hear-me-scream quiet. His people know this. And yet, they invited me to the woods.

I'm sure it was perfectly innocent. Anyway, HUBS really wanted to go, so (for him and for him only) I briefly considered it. But, only on the condition that he do several things for me in return. Boy, making this list was fun...

If I Go To The Woods 8/1/09

1. Small trip to see band I like and HUBS hates. (There aren't many of these, but I'm sure I could find at least one)

2. Two days of Tickle With Impunity. (I get to tickle him, he does not get to ask me to stop)

3. Pluck or shave all body hair I distrust. (HUBS has weird little hairs here and there that he simple refuses to let me remove. This would be my shot)

4. Four days of loading & emptying dishwasher. (He refuses to do both things unless he sees I'm really angry about something else, and yet I almost always do both by myself)

5. Go to museum 1 day every weekend until I say stop. (He likes museums, so this isn't really punishment just a way to get us to do this thing I've been talking about for months now)

6. Paint my toenails. (HUBS has such an aversion to my feet, even when sparkling clean, that this would be too good to pass up)

7. Four days of no slap blocking. (Occasionally, HUBS does things that I need to give him a little whack on the arm/chest/back for. Here, he is not allowed to block me)

8. Two nights of cooking dinner, not burgers/fries/pasta. (He claims this is all he can cook, he's pretty smart though, so I'm sure he can read recipe instructions)

9. Five days of facing me when we talk in bed. (HUBS looks like a pirate when he lays in bed, I like to see this when we talk, but he often turns away from me to "rest that side". Not this week, buddy)

Since I will not be getting paid for the assload of deep, hard physical labor I did last week on HUBS behalf, I'm considering putting these into practice as payment even thought we're not going into the woods. Wait, you say. Why aren't you going into the woods? Well, two awesomely good reasons.

One. It would cost money (!). And, two, the very same day his parents called about us going, just hours later when I was napping, I had a dream that I was standing in the woods near a creek minding my own business and a bear came up behind me and ate my head off my body in one bite. So, no, I really do not think so. At all.

But hey, HUBS' folks, thanks for asking.

Dammit Summer!

I think the sun hates me right back.

Oh fuck, here we go. Yesterday when I went out to feed the cats at 9am it was already 83 degrees outside. All hot, heavy and sticky. We are now officially in summer. No more cooling down at night and then getting ridiculously hot during the day, oh no. It will now be ass-the-fuck tropical damn hot 24 hours a day and seven days a week. Joy.

My deep hatred for summer is well-documented on this blog. I literally cannot stand it. Yesterday morning's heat sent me into a deep, summer-is-here related funk. I had things to do, but couldn't. All I could think was "Jesus' ass, it's hot out there!" I took a nap three hours after waking up because of it.

Summer just takes the life out of me. I can't concentrate. I want to move even less than I normally do. The very idea of things makes me tired. Anything other than sleep is exhausting. It's a miserable way to live.

Really, can't we stagger the heat? You know, have an 85 degree day on Monday and then a 65 degree day Tuesday. Wouldn't that make more sense? I bet less people would kill and be murdered during summers if we worked it like that.