Humanity Gets Dumber: Example # 4,583

Have you heard about this? What the hell is the world coming to? I sincerely hope that no one who reads this blog is stupid and reckless enough to even consider this crap.



There, I'm off my high horse. Have a great weekend everybody! And no pouring booze into your eyes! REALLY!! Maybe just listen to some music and skip the drinking all together.

Why Is It...

Drawing courtesy here

That every time I'm with HUBS at his job and we're alone there into the night, I fear a zombie invasion?

I'm so odd.
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So, what are you guys doing this weekend? Anything fun? Can I come?

Wha???

How in the hell did we get to fucking June already? I swear, the older I get the more it's like time has no meaning whatsoever.

Remember how, when you were a little kid, it seemed like the school year would neeeever eeeeeeeend? And then, during your freshman year of high school (after you realized there was just going to be more of the same clique-y bullshit as in junior high) you felt like graduation was decades away? Then, before you knew it you'd already graduated from college, gotten your first real job, quit that one, gotten another, moved a lot and now here we are at 35 with only a few months left to 36 and 40 staring us down fast and furious?

Well, I have to say, though, I'm already looking forward to fall. Oh yeah...

Oh Boy...

A desperate list I couldn't even finish.

In the past couple of months I've renewed my obsession with reading self-help books. This was something I used to do all the time from the early 2000s until about five years ago. I stopped for two reasons. One, almost all self-help books tend to say the same stuff in different ways. So, after you read about three of the things you're going to keep getting the same info over and over.

The second reason I stopped was my own odd tendency to feel like I'm accomplishing something when I'm actually procrastinating and hiding. What do I mean? I mean that reading self-help books has the same effect on me as entering contests online, somehow I feel a little like I'm earning money when I enter, even though I know that's a stupid feeling. When I read self-help books I feel like I'm working toward my goals, but in actuality I'm just reading a book and not really doing concrete work to fulfill my dreams.

I started up again because I was so depressed about working yet another job I loathed, but even more than the last one I hated. I felt I needed a little boost, and this has turned into me reading about six self-help books in four months.

Here's where the oh boy comes in. I've been reading a book called The Joy Diet. There's a part that tells you it's necessary to give yourself small treats for taking risks that will further your goals. The writer has you do an exercise where you list 10 things that make you smile, so you can use those things as treats.

Do you know what? After writing three things, I completely stalled. I started to think of all the stuff I like or even love: organizing the house, getting rid of things we don't need anymore, cooking, writing, photography, watching movies, reading fashion magazines and tearing out tips and photos, reading books, HUBS, the light at sunset, the light at sunrise, watching good tv...None of these things make me smile all the time. They make me feel good at least 90% of the time, but they don't make me actually smile.

It was months ago when HUBS told me I never smile anymore. I conceded that I'd been moody/angry a lot, but, Of course I smile!, I said. And now, trying to make this list, I see that he's likely very right. I absolutely love taking pictures and writing; why the fuck do they not make me smile? If nothing makes me smile, what does that mean? What have I become?

This is why HUBS so often knocks himself out doing goofy, ridiculous stuff in an effort to make my mouth turn up at the corners. I'm really not smiling anymore.

HUBS. I've become a huge drag. I'm sorry.

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.

Just Today...

I hit my left boob on a door, banged my left shoulder on a corner and cut my hand on a door jamb. Dammit, I'm clumsy.

Things We've Done Recently

We have had an interesting time of it lately. Here's what's been going on...



1)On the first Tuesday of this month, I noticed a opossum hanging out in our neighbor's driveway in the middle of the day. And it freaked me out, I thought that's all we need now, opossums running amok during the day. Well, by the same time the following day, that poor thing was dead. I guess it was sick and disoriented and that's why it was hanging out during daylight.

2) Almost two months to the day after this, I found another cat left in the road in front of our house. HUBS was at work, so I had to dig the grave myself. I don't think I'd ever really used a shovel before, and I was not very good at it. A lot of that had to do with it being hot and me being very sad. I named her Sheila and put her in the little dirt pile left after we got the tree in the front yard removed. Our neighbor, Fred, saw me digging and when he realized why got very upset. He puts out food and water for the strays like we do. When I said that someone must have hit her with their car her responded angrily with "Who! Who hit her!" and I appreciated his seeming desire to find the person and make them wish they had driven more carefully.

Then, two days later on Saturday, after a night of really hard, ridiculous raining, I went to put out food for the strays and found another kitten in the street. It was all very dramatic; me running through our flooded front walk, out into the rain and picking him up. He was wet and cold and already long gone. I brought him into the house and covered him in our doormat until HUBS could find a spot to bury him. I named him Stanley. RIP Sheila 9/3/09 and Stanley 9/5/09.


Boat. Not as big as you may have imagined.

3) That same day we went to Grafton, IL to see life-sized reproductions of Columbus' Pinta and Nina in dock. I was too upset about Stanley and Sheila to have a good time. Also, we went with his parents. They thought I was just tired. I realized that every time I've seen them this year has been on a day I was already in a crap-ass mood about something else. God only knows what they think is wrong with me!

4) With three cat deaths in two months we (me, HUBS and Fred) were starting to think it was time to get some of the strays adopted. Fred and I made calls to the Humane Society of MO, but they don't pick up strays. Animal control will give out humane cages to catch the animals, but a) they only give you one at a time, and that would take forever around here where we've got about 30 cats wandering our street; and b) if they don't have room for them after getting a clean bill of health, they still euthanize them. None of us wanted that, so we're leaving the cats alone. I still can't decide if that's really the right thing, though. Ideas?


Manny and the freakish eyes.

5) Life hasn't been all bad. For a brief period of time last week, we adopted a praying mantis that was hanging around our windows. HUBS named it Manny, which could be short for Manuela if it was a female. It was odd how responsive it was. More so than any other bug/insect I've seen. If you looked out the window at Manny, his head would immediately swivel to look at you. And if you moved around in the window you could actually see his eyes following you. HUBS looked up some mantis facts and found out they have 5 eyes, can see 60 feet and their heads turn 180 degrees. Freaky! After two days Manny moved on (we hope none of the kittens got him) and now we kinda miss the little freak.

6) During one of my many times at the window watching Manny, I accidentally saw him poop. Don't ask.

7) In a break from watching Everwood Season 2 or Friday Night Lights Season 3, I looked out to make sure no cats were in need anywhere. I found a baby opossum and a kitten eating the remainder of the food I'd put out that day. That damn kitten just couldn't leave well enough alone, and kept trying to play with the opossum's thick, ugly tail while it was eating. Opossum baby was coming real close to attacking the kitten because of it, so I stepped outside hoping to scare them off. Uh, you know they both just stood there and stared at me, right? For like a full two minutes, before opossum baby finally ran away. Baby animal crisis averted. See how brave I am when I can hide most of my body behind our front door?

8) Last Friday night, on our way to one of my bar reviews, we saw a opossum get run over by a car. Now, let me just say that I am no opossum fan. They are creepy, disgusting looking and I've heard they're pretty mean. But, I don't want to watch anything suffer, and Goddammit that thing suffered. It was horrible to see. I'll leave it at that.

9) With all this death-of-animals stuff going on, I asked my mom last week if she thought it was some kind of sign. She believes in that type of thing and so do I. I mean, I was starting to worry that God, The Universe, Whatever wasn't getting through to me about something so they were using dead animals to get me to notice what the fuck ever I need to notice. My mom didn't think so, and that really helped ease my mind. It might sound crazy, but there you go.

10) Speaking of my mom, we went to a job fair together last Wednesday with one of my aunts. Mom got laid off after her brother died back in April and hadn't really been looking for work much yet, but heard that the companies at this fair didn't need to see people with degrees, which was good for her. Unfortunately, she got some misinformation. But we still got our resumes to the company she was hoping to talk with. And, I got lots of goodies from the company tables at the fair. Thank you Brown Shoe Company, I've always wanted a tiny pomegranate lip balm!

11) I also spent a day last week trying to help my mom get her room organized. See, she's become quite the hoarder of paper; she's thrown very little away for the past 14years. Her bedroom is filled with bags, boxes and baskets of old bills and mail. How did this happen? Oh, that's easy; it's my bastard father's fault.

See, back in 1994 when he left her, he bought over $3,000 worth of crap for his new place on their shared credit card...And then filed for bankruptcy. So, for years and years they came after my mom for the money. For things she never bought or even saw. She has been afraid to throw anything away for fear that if she couldn't hide from them anymore she wouldn't have the proof that she never bought that crap and shouldn't have to pay for it.

That crap finally fell off her credit report in 2002, but she can't stop saving things. When I went into her room last week I realized that she even has papers under her pillow and comforter, under the bed, in the closet and in the laundry room. I didn't know how bad it was. So I decided to help her get things straight. I was there one day from 10am to almost 7pm and we cleared out three baskets filled with old bills, receipts and pay stubs dated 1995 to 1998. We have a long way to go.

12)Last Friday our house was almost eaten by a woodpecker. I heard this horrible noise that sounded like someone was trying to pick open our locks, looked out the window and saw nothing. The noise kept coming, and it was freaking out Tux, too. I looked out again and this time looked toward the top of the door and found the bird pecking away at the door frame. I beat on the door and got it to leave for a bit, but it came back to the same spot and tried to make a home. Finally the thing got tired and went someplace else. Is that crazy, or what?


Miller, on the left, with her sister Harris. Miller is currently the only stray that likes to have us pet her.

13) Again with the death. I woke up Monday afternoon (that's right, I'm unemployed and loving the freedom) and saw a dead bird on the sidewalk. One of our favorite strays, Miller, eventually came and picked it up. I hope the bird wasn't diseased, I would hate for Miller to get sick and not be able to help her.

14) Do not believe the hype about ladybugs. When I was burying Sheila, one landed on my arm and bit the shit out of me leaving a nasty little bump behind. I am not happy with you, ladybug!

15) We have a bar stool in a corner of our bedroom where I keep a favorite pair of shoes. I went to put them on Saturday and found a cricket up there with its...Aw hell, I'm gonna say it, poop. What is it with us and droppings?


I'll have a special paw gun made if I have to, Sebastian.

16) And...Just a few minutes ago, I watched one of the strays (we call her Sebastian) fight a pretty big snake...IN OUR FRONT YARD. It wasn't just in the front yard, either. It was dangerously close to the front door. Sebastian kept getting tired and walking away to lie down for a bit, and every time I hoped she'd come back with a tiny little gun and blow that snake away. I watched her for over a half hour, and then ran around putting glue boards (thank you, Orkin Man!) down near every basement window, the front door and two openings around the back door on our deck.

Can I just say, internet, I'm tired of nature, death and shit. Absolutely wiped.

This Is What Happens When HUBS Is Stressed

So, this week has been insane for HUBS and I. Due to construction at the school he works for, he now has ONE FREAKIN WEEK to do THREE WEEKS WORTH of work. This have driven HUBS to severe fits of construction-man anger over the past month. And, because I am a lovely human being who didn't want to see her husband go insane, I offered to help.

On Monday we worked 13 and 1/2 hours (with meal breaks, of course). I was riotously exhausted that night but couldn't, for some reason go to sleep when I hit the bed. HUBS was pumped from getting a good start on all the work and tried to get me to sleep. Turning off the tv, turning on the tv, turning the tv volume down. At one point he put it on a Berenstain Bears cartoon on PBS and, apparently, I finally drifted right off after hours of torturous non-sleep.

Then, about an hour later, I got a poke in the shoulder from HUBS. He had something to tell me. I looked at him.

HUBS: (grinning wildly from ear to ear, eyes wide open and pointing downward as he lay in the bed staring at me) WHO'S GOT BALLS??!!

citygirl: (looking at the HUBS crotch, seeing nothing out of the ordinary) What?

HUBS: WHO'S GOTTT BAAAALLLLLS?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!! (maniacal giggling)

I didn't say another word. In fact, all I did was turn over and go back to sleep. But I remember thinking "This is how stress fucks with you? Really? God dammit!"

Let me tell you, internet, the next morning was quite interesting. HUBS had to take me out to breakfast for that one...

What Have I Become?

The yellow car is the culprit.

Oh my God, you guys. I was going to tell you about last weekend for my next blog post, but what happened last night is much more interesting.

HUBS and I were on our way out to Qdoba for dinner. We had a two-for-one coupon and were very excited about the prospect of a semi-cheap din-din. Since HUBS had just gotten home from work, he requested that I drive his car, which I did.

So, we were almost on the highway when I noticed a spider on my window, right near the top where it was open a little. Now, if you remember, me and spiders in cars do NOT GET ALONG. I'm busy trying to drive so I can't kill them and I hate that. I feel powerless to stop the infestation, and me no likey that.

I started to freak a some, but not too bad. It was small, and not a black widow or anything , so not that immediately terrifying. HUBS tried to help me out. But, instead of grabbing one of the million-and-one napkins on his side of the car and killing it, he tried to flick it out the window. This, my friends, is when ALL TOTAL HELL broke loose. Our nemesis the spider DID NOT get sent outside.

IT FLEW INTO THE CAR. IT. WAS. ON. ME!

I find it really hard to explain what happened next. We were on the highway and I was driving and I saw the enemy land on me, but did not know where. I began to panic. And not a little "Oh crap!" kind of panic, but full-on panic attack type panic. Really. I immediately started to cry. And hard, too, people. Tears are streaming down my face, I'm shaking and screaming and cursing and acting like a total punk.

HUBS' initial reaction was to giggle a bit. I don't blame him, though, because I was acting so crazy that he thought I was overacting for effect. When he saw the tears, he knew what was up - I was a lunatic and needed to be calmed down before I killed us both.

Two things made this worse: There was no shoulder, so I couldn't just pull over. I had to wait for the first exit and find a place to stop. Also? I knew I was acting insane, but couldn't stop it. I would start to calm down, then think about the spider setting up shop in my hair or clothes or large intestine and begin to freak! out! again!

This ordeal only lasted about 5 minutes before I could pull over in a parking lot, but it felt like an eternity. I ripped off my sweatshirt (thank God for tank tops) and eventually HUBS found and killed the spider, which was on the back of my seat. As you can imagine, he had to drive once we finally got back in the car.

I have no fucking clue what happened to me! It's not like HUBS purposely threw a tarantula or a bucket of brown recluses on me. It was an accident! And a small, basically harmless spider! And I lost my mind with the shaking/crying/screaming travelling show.

The last time I acted like this I was in college and depressed and lonely and self-hating. HUBS thinks this might have something to do with "the store closing" soon. But I have never gotten this bent out of shape about anything just because of my monthly.

Holy crap. I hope this ain't a trend.