FI-ance will have all his credit card debt paid off in about 10 months. This is real cool for several reasons: he will be able to get his own credit card for when we have an emergency and need extra funds, we'll be able to throw more cash at my credit card debt, and, the biggie, we'll actually have more cash available for wedding stuff. Now, thankfully, my Godmommy has offered to pay for my dress and I've joyfully agreed. Not one to take advantage, I'm still sticking to designs that are $200 or less and am pleased to find that it's totally possible to do.
However, part of the reason FI-ance and I haven't been traipsing all over the St. Louis area looking at halls and such is that no matter how cheap (by comparison)a place is, it still seems outrageously expensive. Twenty-three dollars per person for chicken, mashed potatoes, a roll and some salad? Why are you trying to kill me? Or is it that you want me to kill you? Because, seriously? I'm tempted. That's just with the places that do their own catering. To have a reception in a spot that doesn't do their own food would cost at least $1,000. Did you hear that, internet? That's the price WITHOUT FOOD. And I've checked the unusual locations: parks, gardens, museums and planetariums. They want $2,000 to $3,000. That is ridiculous.
We could cut down on the cost by having a smaller gathering. Mostly this would mean not inviting everyone I work with, just the few that I really talk to often. But, this is the thing, I only work with 17 other people. How much bad will would I incite if I invite only, say, 6 of those people? Should I care? Does it matter that the office standard is to invite everybody or nobody from work? Again, do I care? Let's say they all come and bring somebody. That's 34 people that I may or may not want to feed and have get drunk on our dime. What to do, y'all...what to do...
Adding to this financial stress is FI-ance's (I think unfounded) irritation over his folks not offering to help us out. Let me explain the situation. About four years ago FI-ance had a job that literally drove him crazy - to the point where he needed to be medicated into a semblance of normalcy. He quit, because he couldn't take it anymore, without any other job prospects and no idea what to do next. Not wanting to go back into the same field (he was a journalist) and with little of his own savings he moved back in with his folks and went back to school. His folks paid for one year of college and took care of his bills as he went back to school and worked odd jobs here and there for spending money.
Now, I've explained to FI-ance that I think there are several reasons why he shouldn't get pissed at his peeps for not offering financial assistance: they took him in and paid for some schooling and all his bills while he figured himself out, maybe they haven't gotten around to it yet, he's 36 and I'm 32 - it's not their fault we don't have savings for this wedding thing, and, he has no idea what they have for retirement. It's entirely possible that they planned for 1 wedding and 1 college stint for each kid, so that when FI-ance went to school a second time it used up whatever wedding fund they may have had for him.
I think this all sounds perfectly reasonable, but FI-ance is still pissed that they haven't offered. He's all, "But I had a scholarship the first time around and they hardly had to pay anything and they asked me to move in with them when I went back to school and then held it over my head and I still owe them from that so aren't we even since they're not giving us money now?" What? To me, all that matters is that they've offered hands-on help with the planning, something my mom hasn't done.
Speaking of that. I know she's ultra preoccupied with taking care of my Grandmother, but she really doesn't seem interested in this wedding stuff at all. Thank God I'm not any more girly about it than I currently am or I'd be seriously hurt by her causualness. As it is, it hurts a bit anyway. For a few days I thought I'd found a dress on ebay. I told her and she didn't even ask what it looked like. She just goes "Oh, so what if you lose weight?" She hasn't asked to see dress ideas or offered to call wedding/reception sites. I brought her over to the house a couple of weekends ago and showed her the dress options I've gotten so far, even the ones she said she liked she didn't seem happy about.
Someone at work that I talked to about this mentioned that since mom got divorced herself she may be nervous about the whole idea. It's a good point, and something that I hadn't thought of, but all I really want is for her to show some interest. I don't think that's too much.
I've handled all this by registering at Target, Home Depot, Macy's and JC Penney and shopping without consequence. My goal now is to register wherever they give you free stuff for registering. The search is on.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Wedding Schmedding (Part 1)
So, I bet you wanna know where I've been the past couple of weeks. I've been knee deep in all sorts of wedding crap. And yet, have accomplished nothing. No, really. We still don't know where we're having this shindig. FI-ance and I haven't tasted cakes or caterer's food options or visited any wedding/reception halls. The most proactive I've been with this stuff is to buy too many wedding magazine (I'd originally told myself I'd only get two and then find everything else out online...ha!), get sucked into a gabillion wedding sites and amass a hugess pile of pages ripped from magazines for ideas (a pile that is taking over my once neat home office desk and living room table).
I made the mistake of going into David's Bridal two Saturdays ago. You know what I've discovered? I am the natural enemy of bridal shops. It's not like I've never been in one before, I was a bridesmaid in 2001 and had to take a couple of fittings in one, but somehow this was different. I didn't like it at all. There was too much white everywhere (I know...duh) and it wasn't arranged like a normal store. Plus, they pissed me off because they only had about 5 chubby girl dresses in my size and they were all oogley...you know, puffy and trainy and froofy and shit. Thanks David's Bridal. That's exactly what I need. A dress that will make me look like I weigh 342lbs instead of 242lbs. Whew! I didn't think ANYBODY would understand (assholes)!
I left, with FI-ance in tow of course, in a huff. It was all too bridey, with a capital B.R.I.D.E. Also irritating me? There was a skinny bitch on some pedestal trying on a really pretty dress. Her stomach was flat and she probably wasn't even in a girdle. Fucker.
I was convinced I should never set foot in another bridal store for my own wedding again. I went home, ordered this dress from Lane Bryant and was happy. Then I checked my email. My dearest Godmommy wrote me and offered to buy my dress and go shopping with me. My cold, anti-bride heart melted. I replied with an enthusiastic "Yes, thank you so much Godmommy!!" and decided to keep the dress that was on the way just in case I need to go to the Oscars or something.
Pray for the bridal shops, people. I'll be there in September.
I made the mistake of going into David's Bridal two Saturdays ago. You know what I've discovered? I am the natural enemy of bridal shops. It's not like I've never been in one before, I was a bridesmaid in 2001 and had to take a couple of fittings in one, but somehow this was different. I didn't like it at all. There was too much white everywhere (I know...duh) and it wasn't arranged like a normal store. Plus, they pissed me off because they only had about 5 chubby girl dresses in my size and they were all oogley...you know, puffy and trainy and froofy and shit. Thanks David's Bridal. That's exactly what I need. A dress that will make me look like I weigh 342lbs instead of 242lbs. Whew! I didn't think ANYBODY would understand (assholes)!
I left, with FI-ance in tow of course, in a huff. It was all too bridey, with a capital B.R.I.D.E. Also irritating me? There was a skinny bitch on some pedestal trying on a really pretty dress. Her stomach was flat and she probably wasn't even in a girdle. Fucker.
I was convinced I should never set foot in another bridal store for my own wedding again. I went home, ordered this dress from Lane Bryant and was happy. Then I checked my email. My dearest Godmommy wrote me and offered to buy my dress and go shopping with me. My cold, anti-bride heart melted. I replied with an enthusiastic "Yes, thank you so much Godmommy!!" and decided to keep the dress that was on the way just in case I need to go to the Oscars or something.
Pray for the bridal shops, people. I'll be there in September.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Life Sucks, Then You Pay Taxes, Shit and Die...Or Something Like That (Part 2)
I did some checking. Wanna know why nobody likes to deliver to my 'hood? A pizza delivery lady was sexually assaulted, beaten and mugged here just over a year ago. Goddammit! Of course I'd heard of it, but I didn't realize it was my specific new neighborhood that it happened in. Also? A cop was shot and killed here around the same time. Also again? Our particular neighborhood in a really classy, upper-middle class section of St. Louis has always had a bad rep. I grew up several miles from here, how the hell was I supposed to know that?
We thought we'd done all the checking we needed to. The average income is about the same as ours, the crime stats were about the same as the area I lived in for over eight years. We never thought to ask if any cops had been murdered in the area.
But wait, that's not all! We've dealt with many minor indignities that lead us to believe that there's still a general "I don't give a fuck about anybody else" attitude around. People (adults even!) constantly walk through our yard. At 1am on July 5, actually, we were getting home from some festivities and unloading FI-ance's car. A guy about 20-25 years old walked past us. FI-ance said "good evening." Do you know that punk ass bitch didn't even look at FI-ance? He put his head down, said nothing, walked through our yard with us standing there watching him and then jumped our back fence! Shit, people! Things like this is why FI-ance has left the poison ivy on the fence. I hope that man now has poison ivy burns on his ballsack.
That same week we had our cars keyed (FI-ance has only had his since February). We've had to deal with "the yardbirds", a group of party people who for some reason need to blast music at all hours, stand in the front yard next to us, take up our parking spaces (we don't have a garage), argue and curse loudly and then leave their beer bottles on our lawn. People throw trash in our yard. Somebody chewed food and then spit globs of it all over my car. (I had to drive to work like that!) People are constantly stopping their cars in the middle of the street to talk to folks on the sidewalk, or worse, in another car, so you can't even get around them if you want to. Kids refuse to use the sidewalk. Whole huge groups of them walk the streets, and when you give them dirty looks when they won't get out of the way they look at you like you've done something stupid, wrong and unnecessary. Random guys stand around on random corners looking like they've got nothing to do. Come on, people. This is how pizza ladies get raped...Let's move it along, Johnny.
I think that ridiculous list pretty much covers it. We don't know how much of this we can stand, so we're already looking at houses online. The trick will be trying to sell our little home that needs a bit of work when brand new places won't sell. FI-ance and I are a bit beside ourselves with disappointment, anger and incredulity. This is some fine mess we've gotten ourselves into.
In addition? We may need to move instead of having a wedding next year. Lovely. Thanks, cop-killing assholes*.
(*They did catch all the major criminals, by the way. But...still.)
We thought we'd done all the checking we needed to. The average income is about the same as ours, the crime stats were about the same as the area I lived in for over eight years. We never thought to ask if any cops had been murdered in the area.
But wait, that's not all! We've dealt with many minor indignities that lead us to believe that there's still a general "I don't give a fuck about anybody else" attitude around. People (adults even!) constantly walk through our yard. At 1am on July 5, actually, we were getting home from some festivities and unloading FI-ance's car. A guy about 20-25 years old walked past us. FI-ance said "good evening." Do you know that punk ass bitch didn't even look at FI-ance? He put his head down, said nothing, walked through our yard with us standing there watching him and then jumped our back fence! Shit, people! Things like this is why FI-ance has left the poison ivy on the fence. I hope that man now has poison ivy burns on his ballsack.
That same week we had our cars keyed (FI-ance has only had his since February). We've had to deal with "the yardbirds", a group of party people who for some reason need to blast music at all hours, stand in the front yard next to us, take up our parking spaces (we don't have a garage), argue and curse loudly and then leave their beer bottles on our lawn. People throw trash in our yard. Somebody chewed food and then spit globs of it all over my car. (I had to drive to work like that!) People are constantly stopping their cars in the middle of the street to talk to folks on the sidewalk, or worse, in another car, so you can't even get around them if you want to. Kids refuse to use the sidewalk. Whole huge groups of them walk the streets, and when you give them dirty looks when they won't get out of the way they look at you like you've done something stupid, wrong and unnecessary. Random guys stand around on random corners looking like they've got nothing to do. Come on, people. This is how pizza ladies get raped...Let's move it along, Johnny.
I think that ridiculous list pretty much covers it. We don't know how much of this we can stand, so we're already looking at houses online. The trick will be trying to sell our little home that needs a bit of work when brand new places won't sell. FI-ance and I are a bit beside ourselves with disappointment, anger and incredulity. This is some fine mess we've gotten ourselves into.
In addition? We may need to move instead of having a wedding next year. Lovely. Thanks, cop-killing assholes*.
(*They did catch all the major criminals, by the way. But...still.)
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Life Sucks, Then You Pay Taxes, Shit and Die...Or Something Like That (Part 1)
Yeah, home ownership is a fine thing. Unless you're like me and the FI-ance. We bought this house at the end of December, moved in January and are just now finally getting things to look the way we want them to. We did the actual moving ourselves and it wore us out. It was the only instance where I'd seen my own stuff so much that I simply didn't want to deal with it for months on end. I mean, it took at least two months to get rid of all the boxes!
And now, now that we finally feel settled, we've had to face the cold, hard facts about something: WE ACCIDENTALLY MOVED INTO THE GHETTO.
Don't misunderstand, internet. It's not like the neighborhood is a war zone. We're not constantly hearing gunshots or police sirens; we don't feel unsafe. And the place looks good, most of the houses are brand new or recently updated. But...but there are some things, mostly small things, that are building up and making us think that...deep breath now...we may need to move next year.
Examples? Well, the first sign we totally ignored. And that was that many of the brand new houses in our area are simply not selling. Including the gorgeous behemoth right next door to us. You know how they say to follow your gut? Your "first mind", your instinct? I didn't. I don't know if FI-ance was at all worried about the unsold-but-on-the-market-for-months brand new home next to what would become our first place, but I did. It was in the back of my mind. Underneath "Oh my God! We found a house!" and behind "It's so cute! It's a perfect starter place!" and somewhere to the left of "I get to decorate! I get to decorate!" If I had just paid attention to that nagging little feeling.
Then, we moved. And we had no appliances for a day or two, but (would you believe?) we still got hungry. Pizza was the natural choice. Except, no one would deliver. We called four different places, some of them a mere five minutes away, and they all said no. One even specifically said, "we don't deliver there after dark." What? I mean...huh? Seriously? Fuck all. What the hell is going on?
Tune in tomorrow for "As the Ghetto Turns"...
And now, now that we finally feel settled, we've had to face the cold, hard facts about something: WE ACCIDENTALLY MOVED INTO THE GHETTO.
Don't misunderstand, internet. It's not like the neighborhood is a war zone. We're not constantly hearing gunshots or police sirens; we don't feel unsafe. And the place looks good, most of the houses are brand new or recently updated. But...but there are some things, mostly small things, that are building up and making us think that...deep breath now...we may need to move next year.
Examples? Well, the first sign we totally ignored. And that was that many of the brand new houses in our area are simply not selling. Including the gorgeous behemoth right next door to us. You know how they say to follow your gut? Your "first mind", your instinct? I didn't. I don't know if FI-ance was at all worried about the unsold-but-on-the-market-for-months brand new home next to what would become our first place, but I did. It was in the back of my mind. Underneath "Oh my God! We found a house!" and behind "It's so cute! It's a perfect starter place!" and somewhere to the left of "I get to decorate! I get to decorate!" If I had just paid attention to that nagging little feeling.
Then, we moved. And we had no appliances for a day or two, but (would you believe?) we still got hungry. Pizza was the natural choice. Except, no one would deliver. We called four different places, some of them a mere five minutes away, and they all said no. One even specifically said, "we don't deliver there after dark." What? I mean...huh? Seriously? Fuck all. What the hell is going on?
Tune in tomorrow for "As the Ghetto Turns"...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
So...
If someone is going to sweat their way through a slightly depressing July 4 fireworks party at an assisted living facility only to get hit in the head by overzealous bottle rocket debris, we all know that it's totally going to happen to me, right?
This was the best holiday EVER!
This was the best holiday EVER!
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Just...Barely
Friends of the internet, I cannot convey to you how difficult it is to get back to work after a five day vacation. July 4 landing in the middle of the week was an absolute blessing, but now I'm experiencing severe lethargy whenever "work" is mentioned or merely thought of.
And yet, I'm here. Although in spirit I'm totally still in bed, just like I was on July 4,5,6,7 and 8. What's to be expected until my next vacation? The phone will ring but I won't pick it up. I will not respond to messages or emails in a timely fashion. I will not get to work on time even though I'll try real hard to and the filing won't get done. However, what I will do is write blogs on work time, save as much actual work as possible for as late in the day as possible, read magazines, take long lunches and surf fashion/gossip sites as often as I can get away with.
Basically, I will do as little as humanly possible. Will my efforts be successful? No. Likely not.
And yet, I'm here. Although in spirit I'm totally still in bed, just like I was on July 4,5,6,7 and 8. What's to be expected until my next vacation? The phone will ring but I won't pick it up. I will not respond to messages or emails in a timely fashion. I will not get to work on time even though I'll try real hard to and the filing won't get done. However, what I will do is write blogs on work time, save as much actual work as possible for as late in the day as possible, read magazines, take long lunches and surf fashion/gossip sites as often as I can get away with.
Basically, I will do as little as humanly possible. Will my efforts be successful? No. Likely not.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Baffling
I had a dream last night that a woman I used to work with invited me to stay with her for the weekend. I packed too much jewelry for a weekend trip; that was the crux of the dream. I was really freaked out that there was so much jewelry in my bag and apparently I had no jewelry roll so it was all tangled up.
Obviously my mind is trying to tell me I'm a super genius.
Obviously my mind is trying to tell me I'm a super genius.
Monday, June 25, 2007
All Quiet On The Western Front
Well, the past few days have been pretty uneventful. I'm procrastinating on about a million things: cleaning, organizing papers, scanning polaroids, turning my loads of cassette tapes from the '80s and '90s into mp3's, looking into more wedding things-including scanning lady of honor dress ideas and sending them to my bud Andrea, folding laundry, selling stuff on half.com, working on the screenplay...Dear God! I could go on but the list is getting depressing.
I was doing really good for a bit, making lists and checking things off as I did them, then feeling really adult and accomplished. But that's fallen by the wayside a bit and I'm committing now, for all the internet to see, to getting that flow back.
I made some very small steps on Thursday toward starting my own business. I made up business cards and a stamp and ordered them! I know, that sentence doesn't seem like it really needed an exclamation point, but it honestly did. See, those things filled two needs: shopping (yay!) and moving ever so slowly ahead with my career aspirations. I've decided to concentrate on two things, my photography (which I know I haven't spoken much about) and my script consulting. I've even started two new websites catering to each. This one is for my photographs, you'll soon be able to buy prints of everything on here once I figure out how to set that up. This site is for my movie reviews and to lead folks to info on my script consulting. There's nothing there just yet, I've got plenty of reviews I could post, but this is another thing I've procrastinated on.
Take a look at them and let me know what you think!
I was doing really good for a bit, making lists and checking things off as I did them, then feeling really adult and accomplished. But that's fallen by the wayside a bit and I'm committing now, for all the internet to see, to getting that flow back.
I made some very small steps on Thursday toward starting my own business. I made up business cards and a stamp and ordered them! I know, that sentence doesn't seem like it really needed an exclamation point, but it honestly did. See, those things filled two needs: shopping (yay!) and moving ever so slowly ahead with my career aspirations. I've decided to concentrate on two things, my photography (which I know I haven't spoken much about) and my script consulting. I've even started two new websites catering to each. This one is for my photographs, you'll soon be able to buy prints of everything on here once I figure out how to set that up. This site is for my movie reviews and to lead folks to info on my script consulting. There's nothing there just yet, I've got plenty of reviews I could post, but this is another thing I've procrastinated on.
Take a look at them and let me know what you think!
Monday, June 11, 2007
I'm Having A Nervous Breakdown, And Other Items Of Note
6/10/07: FI-ance flops down on the couch one last time. It's the last time because HE BROKE MY COUCH. I am less than pleased. He knows this and begs me not to stop loving him, then tries to fix it with a mallet and does a pretty good job. I have decided to continue letting him touch me.
I share a bowl of cookie dough ice cream covered in turtle magic shell with the FI-ance at 10pm. Then, I head back to the quart and dig out all the cookie pieces I can find in the top half. My stomach disagrees with these decisions. My toilet's not happy about it either.
6/9/07: The FI-ance takes Lila to get an oil change while I wait at home for the Orkin man. He has them check the brakes too, since we know they're winding down. The mechanics say, "What brakes? This car has no brakes." I put $600 on the "emergency only" credit card.
While in the Wal-Mart parking lot, I make FI-ance get out of the car and dispose of a spider on my windshield. He refused to kill it and instead knocked it off with a huff. That's better than nothing.
6/8/07: We have money again. In celebration we go to a new place for dinner, Pueblo Solis. I eat way too many chips and get full before my enormous chicken fajitas get to me. I eat some anyway, and dammit they are GOOD. FI-ance needs "to calm everybody down" so we head to Ted Drews for ice-creamy goodness.
6/7/07: The FI-ance and I take mental health days from work. At about 3:15 I go to pay bills online and realize we've got a negative balance. We head to my old bank to withdraw cash to add to the joint account. I've forgotten my atm password and begin screaming. FI-ance tries to reassure me, saying we can go inside, so I pull over. I lose it. Cursing, screaming, crying, banging on the wheel and dash, throwing things and scaring the bank employees standing outside smoking. Because of this my mental health day was not very healthy, but was totally mental.
6/6/07: FI-ance has a night of gaming as I go slowly insane over possible wedding stuff. After having hope restored, I realize again we have no money for even a small service and reception. I begin to panic and cannot fall asleep until almost 4am. I wake up at dawn to pee and see that FI-ance is still playing Empire at War (some geekfest Star Wars thing). I encourage him to stay home from work since he drives a lot on twisty roads and has had no sleep. He'll only stay home if I do. Not a problem at all.
6/2/07: I've become obsessed with wedding planning. In my search for an affordable location and caterer I see that it all costs too much. I complain to the FI-ance and begin to cry. He offers a suggestion and things seem brighter. Still, I cry myself to sleep. I am such a girl.
5/31/07: A really strange night. As I get ready for bed I notice a huge cockroach in the hall near the laundry baskets. I begin to scream. FI-ance is in the bathroom and takes time out of his busy schedule to let me know he can't help right now. NO SHIT. I smash the beast with a phone book right in front of the closed bathroom door, then jump up and down on it to make sure it's passed on. I lift the book and there is a stain much worse than you can imagine. I know I will never feel the area is clean enough so I have FI-ance bleach it (I know, it turned an odd pink color) and then put a bundle of abandoned Tux fluff on it so the spot is clearly marked.
I try to calm myself by cleaning up a bit. One of the necklaces I laid on the dresser that day is missing. I immediately know who to blame...Tux. I become hysterical, yelling as I look high and low. "I've only had that necklace for two weeks and now it's gone? WHAT THE HELL, TUX?! Why do you hate me? Can't you for once stop being so destructive and mischievous? Why can't I have nice things anymore? Why do boys mess up everything...?"
I cry myself to sleep on the couch. And what's the first thing I see when I wake up? That's right, another roach, but this time in the living room. I chase it across the room into the hall and then the bathroom, spraying it all the way. I corner it and make it die. I pull up the bathroom rug to wash it, and find my necklace. Everything really does happen for a reason.
I wake up in the morning completely worn out. I head out to my car for work and see that some lovely person has eaten something they didn't like AND SPIT GLOBS OF IT ALL OVER LILA. Really? This is the kind of neighborhood we moved into? Honestly? I am frustrated and angry but there is no one nearby for me to kill. I drive to work with hardened food all over my car. I do not care about the staring.
I share a bowl of cookie dough ice cream covered in turtle magic shell with the FI-ance at 10pm. Then, I head back to the quart and dig out all the cookie pieces I can find in the top half. My stomach disagrees with these decisions. My toilet's not happy about it either.
6/9/07: The FI-ance takes Lila to get an oil change while I wait at home for the Orkin man. He has them check the brakes too, since we know they're winding down. The mechanics say, "What brakes? This car has no brakes." I put $600 on the "emergency only" credit card.
While in the Wal-Mart parking lot, I make FI-ance get out of the car and dispose of a spider on my windshield. He refused to kill it and instead knocked it off with a huff. That's better than nothing.
6/8/07: We have money again. In celebration we go to a new place for dinner, Pueblo Solis. I eat way too many chips and get full before my enormous chicken fajitas get to me. I eat some anyway, and dammit they are GOOD. FI-ance needs "to calm everybody down" so we head to Ted Drews for ice-creamy goodness.
6/7/07: The FI-ance and I take mental health days from work. At about 3:15 I go to pay bills online and realize we've got a negative balance. We head to my old bank to withdraw cash to add to the joint account. I've forgotten my atm password and begin screaming. FI-ance tries to reassure me, saying we can go inside, so I pull over. I lose it. Cursing, screaming, crying, banging on the wheel and dash, throwing things and scaring the bank employees standing outside smoking. Because of this my mental health day was not very healthy, but was totally mental.
6/6/07: FI-ance has a night of gaming as I go slowly insane over possible wedding stuff. After having hope restored, I realize again we have no money for even a small service and reception. I begin to panic and cannot fall asleep until almost 4am. I wake up at dawn to pee and see that FI-ance is still playing Empire at War (some geekfest Star Wars thing). I encourage him to stay home from work since he drives a lot on twisty roads and has had no sleep. He'll only stay home if I do. Not a problem at all.
6/2/07: I've become obsessed with wedding planning. In my search for an affordable location and caterer I see that it all costs too much. I complain to the FI-ance and begin to cry. He offers a suggestion and things seem brighter. Still, I cry myself to sleep. I am such a girl.
5/31/07: A really strange night. As I get ready for bed I notice a huge cockroach in the hall near the laundry baskets. I begin to scream. FI-ance is in the bathroom and takes time out of his busy schedule to let me know he can't help right now. NO SHIT. I smash the beast with a phone book right in front of the closed bathroom door, then jump up and down on it to make sure it's passed on. I lift the book and there is a stain much worse than you can imagine. I know I will never feel the area is clean enough so I have FI-ance bleach it (I know, it turned an odd pink color) and then put a bundle of abandoned Tux fluff on it so the spot is clearly marked.
I try to calm myself by cleaning up a bit. One of the necklaces I laid on the dresser that day is missing. I immediately know who to blame...Tux. I become hysterical, yelling as I look high and low. "I've only had that necklace for two weeks and now it's gone? WHAT THE HELL, TUX?! Why do you hate me? Can't you for once stop being so destructive and mischievous? Why can't I have nice things anymore? Why do boys mess up everything...?"
I cry myself to sleep on the couch. And what's the first thing I see when I wake up? That's right, another roach, but this time in the living room. I chase it across the room into the hall and then the bathroom, spraying it all the way. I corner it and make it die. I pull up the bathroom rug to wash it, and find my necklace. Everything really does happen for a reason.
I wake up in the morning completely worn out. I head out to my car for work and see that some lovely person has eaten something they didn't like AND SPIT GLOBS OF IT ALL OVER LILA. Really? This is the kind of neighborhood we moved into? Honestly? I am frustrated and angry but there is no one nearby for me to kill. I drive to work with hardened food all over my car. I do not care about the staring.
Friday, May 18, 2007
In the Middle of the Night
"Hey, I didn't think you'd be getting back in bed."
"It's 4:30 in the morning, why would I not get back in bed?"
"I don't know. Maybe you went and joined a cult."
*smack*
"That's my girl. Not joining a cult."
"It's 4:30 in the morning, why would I not get back in bed?"
"I don't know. Maybe you went and joined a cult."
*smack*
"That's my girl. Not joining a cult."
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Pretty Pretty Shiny
You know internet, every time I think "damn, I really need to get a job I actually want to work at during the day," I get distracted by something shiny. Like a magazine. I'd much rather read a magazine than send out cover letters and resumes and try to convince people more ambitious than myself that I'm worthy of employment. Why am I so fucking lazy when it comes to getting out of this crap job?
You know what else is shiny? Engagement rings that come with the matching wedding band. Yeah, baby. Those are totally fucking shiny. Mama loves that kinda shine. I finally got my ring ordered on Tuesday. I found it by chance a couple of months ago while searching Overstock.com just to see what was out there. This doesn't need mentioning, but I'm saying it anyway...It. Is. FUCKING. SWEET! And we got a great deal on it, it was about 1/2 off the regular price. Even better? I should get it tomorrow!
I know what you're thinking. But what about the surprise? Having the FI-ance spring it on you at some fancy restaurant or mid-air on a ferris wheel while you eat funnel cake? What about the romance? Where's the cute story in ordering your own ring? Well, I ain't gonna lie. I would love that. Which is why, when Mr. FedEx brings that ring to my j.o.b. tomorrow I'm going to fight with all my heart the urge to just slap that puppy on my finger. Seriously, internet, I've thought about it. I can do this. Open the box, make sure it's ok, and then close it up and not tell anyone I've got it.
When I get home it goes to the FI-ance and he's in charge of figuring out a way to present it to me so that it's all special and shit. And, this has to happen before the weekend is over.
You hear that, boy? SPECIAL PRESENTATION. BEFORE. THE WEEKEND. IS. OVER.
You know what else is shiny? Engagement rings that come with the matching wedding band. Yeah, baby. Those are totally fucking shiny. Mama loves that kinda shine. I finally got my ring ordered on Tuesday. I found it by chance a couple of months ago while searching Overstock.com just to see what was out there. This doesn't need mentioning, but I'm saying it anyway...It. Is. FUCKING. SWEET! And we got a great deal on it, it was about 1/2 off the regular price. Even better? I should get it tomorrow!
I know what you're thinking. But what about the surprise? Having the FI-ance spring it on you at some fancy restaurant or mid-air on a ferris wheel while you eat funnel cake? What about the romance? Where's the cute story in ordering your own ring? Well, I ain't gonna lie. I would love that. Which is why, when Mr. FedEx brings that ring to my j.o.b. tomorrow I'm going to fight with all my heart the urge to just slap that puppy on my finger. Seriously, internet, I've thought about it. I can do this. Open the box, make sure it's ok, and then close it up and not tell anyone I've got it.
When I get home it goes to the FI-ance and he's in charge of figuring out a way to present it to me so that it's all special and shit. And, this has to happen before the weekend is over.
You hear that, boy? SPECIAL PRESENTATION. BEFORE. THE WEEKEND. IS. OVER.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Chocolate Ass
I almost cried last night. The urge quickly degraded into short bursts of nervous laughter, but just barely.
What exactly is the issue with boys and messiness? I do not understand. The solution is so simple. Put your jacket in the coat closet. Hang up your pants. Sell those old video games or get rid of them. Why is my FI-ance so hard to train?
To his credit, he's not horrible at keeping up with stuff. As he said last night, "I'm way neater than most straight men." And yeah, he's probably right about that, but I cannot get him to finally do the few things that would make our house look like a real home. And it's not like I'm asking for the place to look like a magazine layout. It just needs to be more organized. I admit some of this is on me (not taking the Goodwill stuff to the donation center, leaving my box of books to sell under the coffee table...), but more of it is the FI-ance.
Case in point. Last night we watched tv from the couch and ate on the coffee table. We always do this because we are tv/movie people and we are also food people. And we don't have a dining room table or enough space in the kitchen to eat in there. After we finished I started to clear things away. The FI-ance shifted in his seat and I saw something.
"Stand up."
"I hope there isn't going to be any yelling."
"Stand. Up."
He did. And what the hell, for the SECOND time in LESS THAN seven days...HE HAD SAT ON CHOCOLATE. I am not even kidding, internet. He's 36 years old and twice this month the man has SAT on food on my couch. What the Hell is wrong with him?
"I'm sorry baby. Please don't be mad at me. I don't mean to sit on food. Really I don't do it on purpose...Come on...I'm a BOY. I'm messy."
I was slowly dissolving. In the grand scheme this is nothing. He's nice and helpful and caring and he bathes. But this? This matters too, internet! And he thinks it's all so funny. I came so close to crying but just couldn't. Why did I want to cry? Because after having the couch for four years I finally got BRAND NEW COUCH COVERS just last month. And every week sees a new stain. Courtesy of the FI-ance. Spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, computer dirt, and now (twice) chocolate.
So he apologized a lot, but it sorta doesn't matter. I know he didn't mean to do it, but he laughed through the whole apology!
"That's why we got the covers, so we can wash them."
"As much as you spill food they'll be thread-bare in less than a month."
"Oh, honey, come on. What do you expect from me?"
"I expect you to not fucking sit on chocolate! You didn't even move! How does food get UNDER your ass when you don't even move! What the fuck is wrong with you!? From now on I wash the clothes, underwear and towels, and you can wash the sheets, blankets and slipcovers. Seriously fucker."
I didn't go to bed angry or anything because I was never angry. Just really, abidingly disappointed. I feel like I should just serve dinner on the couch. Fuck all the dishes we've got. Or dye the covers (Did I mention the couch is natural colored? Oh yes, it's that bad.) black so nothing but cat hair ever shows.
Dammit, internet! Why can't a girl living with a boy have nice things? Whhhhyyyyy!?
What exactly is the issue with boys and messiness? I do not understand. The solution is so simple. Put your jacket in the coat closet. Hang up your pants. Sell those old video games or get rid of them. Why is my FI-ance so hard to train?
To his credit, he's not horrible at keeping up with stuff. As he said last night, "I'm way neater than most straight men." And yeah, he's probably right about that, but I cannot get him to finally do the few things that would make our house look like a real home. And it's not like I'm asking for the place to look like a magazine layout. It just needs to be more organized. I admit some of this is on me (not taking the Goodwill stuff to the donation center, leaving my box of books to sell under the coffee table...), but more of it is the FI-ance.
Case in point. Last night we watched tv from the couch and ate on the coffee table. We always do this because we are tv/movie people and we are also food people. And we don't have a dining room table or enough space in the kitchen to eat in there. After we finished I started to clear things away. The FI-ance shifted in his seat and I saw something.
"Stand up."
"I hope there isn't going to be any yelling."
"Stand. Up."
He did. And what the hell, for the SECOND time in LESS THAN seven days...HE HAD SAT ON CHOCOLATE. I am not even kidding, internet. He's 36 years old and twice this month the man has SAT on food on my couch. What the Hell is wrong with him?
"I'm sorry baby. Please don't be mad at me. I don't mean to sit on food. Really I don't do it on purpose...Come on...I'm a BOY. I'm messy."
I was slowly dissolving. In the grand scheme this is nothing. He's nice and helpful and caring and he bathes. But this? This matters too, internet! And he thinks it's all so funny. I came so close to crying but just couldn't. Why did I want to cry? Because after having the couch for four years I finally got BRAND NEW COUCH COVERS just last month. And every week sees a new stain. Courtesy of the FI-ance. Spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, computer dirt, and now (twice) chocolate.
So he apologized a lot, but it sorta doesn't matter. I know he didn't mean to do it, but he laughed through the whole apology!
"That's why we got the covers, so we can wash them."
"As much as you spill food they'll be thread-bare in less than a month."
"Oh, honey, come on. What do you expect from me?"
"I expect you to not fucking sit on chocolate! You didn't even move! How does food get UNDER your ass when you don't even move! What the fuck is wrong with you!? From now on I wash the clothes, underwear and towels, and you can wash the sheets, blankets and slipcovers. Seriously fucker."
I didn't go to bed angry or anything because I was never angry. Just really, abidingly disappointed. I feel like I should just serve dinner on the couch. Fuck all the dishes we've got. Or dye the covers (Did I mention the couch is natural colored? Oh yes, it's that bad.) black so nothing but cat hair ever shows.
Dammit, internet! Why can't a girl living with a boy have nice things? Whhhhyyyyy!?
Monday, April 30, 2007
Wild Kingdom
I'm not used to animals. You know that, right? I mean, I'm finally used to the Tuxikitten and he still freaks me out sometimes, with all his cat-like sneakiness and appearing out of nowhere.
Anyway, we've got about six stray cats that hang out in the neighborhood. They like to wander from yard to yard, peeing and eating things. Imagine my surprise as I sat in the FI-ance's car yesterday and watched one of the strays coming from our yard. That alone isn't a big deal. But, as kitty got closer to the car I noticed a freaky sight--KITTEN HAD A KILL IN ITS MOUTH.
Oh God, ya'll. I have never seen anything like it. Whatever Killerkitten was carrying was pretty damn big and fuzzy. Aside from the horror that that thing might've been caught in our yard, I watched in shock as Killer dropped its prey, sat down in our yard and began to play with it. Then, of course, Killer started gnawing. It was like watching a train wreck happen, you know there's carnage and pain but you're so stunned it's in front of you that you can't look away.
And, obviously, since I'm all freaked out, the FI-ance is totally ambivalent: "Aww, that's a good kitty cat. That kitty cat's doing its job, being a good little hunter...ewww." Luckily he drove away before we saw much more. Also lucky? When we got home The Killer and The Dead were completely gone from our yard. Not a single trace of the circle of life was in place. Thank God.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You know internet, I really like you. So, as a friend, I'm going to give you some advice: don't ever issue threats to spiders. Do what you need to, but don't say anything about it, because they'll find out and they will not be happy.
So, after all my trauma last Saturday night I spent the week going back and forth in Lila trying not to think about the new species I'd discovered in the car then. Everything was fine because ignorance is utter bliss. Thursday changed that.
I was trying to get to work and running late as usual. I threw my things in the car and did a quick look inside to make sure no spideys were apparent. As soon as I take off I notice another huge , white spider hiding in the space between the side mirror and the thing that holds the mirror onto the car. I actually remained fairly calm. Spidey was away from me and I couldn't get to him in there going 80mph, so I figured I'd wait until I hit a light after getting off the highway. Which is exactly what I did.
I keep a can of cheap air freshener in my car for just this reason. It kills and freshens. Brilliant! I sprayed the bugger and he tried to escape by crawling toward my window which I quickly rolled back up and saw that he rolled himself into a little ball...I thought.
At the next light legs appeared wriggling and I realized what I'd done. When I rolled up the window I sorta...cut the spider in half. I know! Stop it, I feel bad enough already! I have no love for spiders, but I don't want them to suffer when I dispense of them. And I absolutely don't want to watch them suffer. It's been days now, and every now and then I see those three legs and half body waving about wildly, almost like it's begging for help. Then the motion stops and it falls on the door and the wind blows it away. Man! It was actually sad and I still feel terrible about that. I swear I try to be humane in my kills.
Well, then all Hell broke loose. It was like every spider in the tri-state area knew what I'd done. They came out of every crease and crevice in my car. They lined up on the dash board wearing little gas masks and carrying shields. Ok, not really but that's what it seemed like. Have you ever tried to kill spiders while driving alone? I could have died.
As I pulled into the garage at work I had to stop suddenly and take off my shoe to kill one that came out near the top of my head. Then another one jumped down from a web on my door. I couldn't get the shoe off again so I sprayed it and it fell God knows where. That was the last straw. I pulled over and jumped out of the car. I could not find that fucker anywhere so I started spraying every surface in the car with Glade. I spritzed every little corner, seam, and most of the floor. Nothing. No sign of it. After about 15 minutes of screaming (yes, at the car in the garage at work as people came and went around me...what was I supposed to do?), sweating, spraying and praying I quickly got back in, parked and jumped out. I had one of the valets wash and vacuum Lila while I was at work. I gave him a five dollar tip.
On Friday I had a realization: if I treat the car with the bug spray I used in the house I should be ok. Since I found a web inside my car this morning, I believe I'll be doing that tonight.
Anyway, we've got about six stray cats that hang out in the neighborhood. They like to wander from yard to yard, peeing and eating things. Imagine my surprise as I sat in the FI-ance's car yesterday and watched one of the strays coming from our yard. That alone isn't a big deal. But, as kitty got closer to the car I noticed a freaky sight--KITTEN HAD A KILL IN ITS MOUTH.
Oh God, ya'll. I have never seen anything like it. Whatever Killerkitten was carrying was pretty damn big and fuzzy. Aside from the horror that that thing might've been caught in our yard, I watched in shock as Killer dropped its prey, sat down in our yard and began to play with it. Then, of course, Killer started gnawing. It was like watching a train wreck happen, you know there's carnage and pain but you're so stunned it's in front of you that you can't look away.
And, obviously, since I'm all freaked out, the FI-ance is totally ambivalent: "Aww, that's a good kitty cat. That kitty cat's doing its job, being a good little hunter...ewww." Luckily he drove away before we saw much more. Also lucky? When we got home The Killer and The Dead were completely gone from our yard. Not a single trace of the circle of life was in place. Thank God.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You know internet, I really like you. So, as a friend, I'm going to give you some advice: don't ever issue threats to spiders. Do what you need to, but don't say anything about it, because they'll find out and they will not be happy.
So, after all my trauma last Saturday night I spent the week going back and forth in Lila trying not to think about the new species I'd discovered in the car then. Everything was fine because ignorance is utter bliss. Thursday changed that.
I was trying to get to work and running late as usual. I threw my things in the car and did a quick look inside to make sure no spideys were apparent. As soon as I take off I notice another huge , white spider hiding in the space between the side mirror and the thing that holds the mirror onto the car. I actually remained fairly calm. Spidey was away from me and I couldn't get to him in there going 80mph, so I figured I'd wait until I hit a light after getting off the highway. Which is exactly what I did.
I keep a can of cheap air freshener in my car for just this reason. It kills and freshens. Brilliant! I sprayed the bugger and he tried to escape by crawling toward my window which I quickly rolled back up and saw that he rolled himself into a little ball...I thought.
At the next light legs appeared wriggling and I realized what I'd done. When I rolled up the window I sorta...cut the spider in half. I know! Stop it, I feel bad enough already! I have no love for spiders, but I don't want them to suffer when I dispense of them. And I absolutely don't want to watch them suffer. It's been days now, and every now and then I see those three legs and half body waving about wildly, almost like it's begging for help. Then the motion stops and it falls on the door and the wind blows it away. Man! It was actually sad and I still feel terrible about that. I swear I try to be humane in my kills.
Well, then all Hell broke loose. It was like every spider in the tri-state area knew what I'd done. They came out of every crease and crevice in my car. They lined up on the dash board wearing little gas masks and carrying shields. Ok, not really but that's what it seemed like. Have you ever tried to kill spiders while driving alone? I could have died.
As I pulled into the garage at work I had to stop suddenly and take off my shoe to kill one that came out near the top of my head. Then another one jumped down from a web on my door. I couldn't get the shoe off again so I sprayed it and it fell God knows where. That was the last straw. I pulled over and jumped out of the car. I could not find that fucker anywhere so I started spraying every surface in the car with Glade. I spritzed every little corner, seam, and most of the floor. Nothing. No sign of it. After about 15 minutes of screaming (yes, at the car in the garage at work as people came and went around me...what was I supposed to do?), sweating, spraying and praying I quickly got back in, parked and jumped out. I had one of the valets wash and vacuum Lila while I was at work. I gave him a five dollar tip.
On Friday I had a realization: if I treat the car with the bug spray I used in the house I should be ok. Since I found a web inside my car this morning, I believe I'll be doing that tonight.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
I Love Lila
Lila Ford is my pewter 1998 Ford Escort. Yeah, I know they don't make those anymore. She needs new brakes. There are several cracks and one brand new fracture on her windshield. (Really, it's surprising that I haven't had to have the windshield replaced by now. I always get stuck on the highway behind some rickety Fred Sanford junk truck with rusty rakes, old couches and other beat-up crap hanging outta the back. And they have those humongoid mud flaps that, instead of just moving the street stuff away from the truck, make every pebble fly at me at 3,000 miles per hour. Hence. The cracks.)
Lila's horn has a short in it. I can only hit the side of the horn with the little ABS etching in it, or the horn sounds...and won't stop. The light on the gear shift has gone out and I keep forgetting to get it replaced, so when it's dark I have to turn the overhead on to make sure I'm in the right gear.
I love my Lila Ford. She is the first car I've ever owned. I bought her brand new when I'd been out of college for a little over a year. Actually, it was August 14, 1998. Yeah, I remember it that well. After four years of using St. Louis' slow-ass busses and (pretty cool but often crowded) Metro-Link, I remember well the day I no longer had to ride with the funky, loud and crazy. Or the occasional stray chicken bone.
Even though I love Lila I have not been a very good mommy as of late. Like, in the last three years. Because that's how long it's been since I've washed my car.
Oh my God! Do not judge me internet! I swear I've meant to. I can't take her to one of those gas station car washes because I've always heard that they take the paint off. With apartment living, and no hose, can you imagine how difficult and time consuming it was to carry buckets back and forth to clean her? Well, I did it. For years, I did it. And prior to that I paid to have it done, every month. I was good for a while I really was. Then I found these giant handi-wipe like things that cleaned the car without water. They took a lot of elbow grease but I used them for over a year. Then? Then...
I got lazy and Lila got dirty. There's a fine coat of dust on her dash. The floor is littered with little dead leaves, scraps of paper and a bit of dried brownie (God that brownie was good). When the FI-ance and I moved I put a plant in the trunk. It promptly tipped over and rolled around as I drove even though I thought it was well braced. How much do you want to bet that the dirt is still in my trunk FOUR MONTHS LATER?
I've been saying for years that I was finally going to take care of my Lila. Well, Saturday was the last straw. Why? Because...THERE. WERE. SPIDERS.
The FI-ance was getting over the flu and craving a Quater Pounder With Cheese, so I made him go to McDonald's with me (I swear he really was feeling better. And, as an additional side note, he wore his robe, a pair of underwear, flip flops and a black snap brim cap. See? Even when he's sick he's cool.)
We're in my car sitting at a light and he goes: "Hey, look. There's a spider on the outside of the window." Immediate panic. I rolled up the window and ran the wipers to try and kill it, then began to itch all over. But that's not the worst of it. I looked at the FI-ance to ask if he saw the damn spider die. As soon as I finish the question my gaze is drawn upward to his sun visor, which is mere millimeters from his cap. And playing host to another very, very large spider.
Then I started screaming.
I turned the light on so he could kill it, but of course "spiders kill worse things, we like spiders. I can't just kill it." Me=Still Screaming. But now I'm driving too because the light's changed. He grabs some ephemera from somewhere in the car and attempts to put the beast out the window. What kills me is that we don't know if he got it OUTSIDE or not. It was too dark and FI-ance was too goofy from flu to notice for sure.
So, America's spiders are officially on notice. As of this weekend Lila Ford will be spotless and unable to accept any new occupants. You dig?
Lila's horn has a short in it. I can only hit the side of the horn with the little ABS etching in it, or the horn sounds...and won't stop. The light on the gear shift has gone out and I keep forgetting to get it replaced, so when it's dark I have to turn the overhead on to make sure I'm in the right gear.
I love my Lila Ford. She is the first car I've ever owned. I bought her brand new when I'd been out of college for a little over a year. Actually, it was August 14, 1998. Yeah, I remember it that well. After four years of using St. Louis' slow-ass busses and (pretty cool but often crowded) Metro-Link, I remember well the day I no longer had to ride with the funky, loud and crazy. Or the occasional stray chicken bone.
Even though I love Lila I have not been a very good mommy as of late. Like, in the last three years. Because that's how long it's been since I've washed my car.
Oh my God! Do not judge me internet! I swear I've meant to. I can't take her to one of those gas station car washes because I've always heard that they take the paint off. With apartment living, and no hose, can you imagine how difficult and time consuming it was to carry buckets back and forth to clean her? Well, I did it. For years, I did it. And prior to that I paid to have it done, every month. I was good for a while I really was. Then I found these giant handi-wipe like things that cleaned the car without water. They took a lot of elbow grease but I used them for over a year. Then? Then...
I got lazy and Lila got dirty. There's a fine coat of dust on her dash. The floor is littered with little dead leaves, scraps of paper and a bit of dried brownie (God that brownie was good). When the FI-ance and I moved I put a plant in the trunk. It promptly tipped over and rolled around as I drove even though I thought it was well braced. How much do you want to bet that the dirt is still in my trunk FOUR MONTHS LATER?
I've been saying for years that I was finally going to take care of my Lila. Well, Saturday was the last straw. Why? Because...THERE. WERE. SPIDERS.
The FI-ance was getting over the flu and craving a Quater Pounder With Cheese, so I made him go to McDonald's with me (I swear he really was feeling better. And, as an additional side note, he wore his robe, a pair of underwear, flip flops and a black snap brim cap. See? Even when he's sick he's cool.)
We're in my car sitting at a light and he goes: "Hey, look. There's a spider on the outside of the window." Immediate panic. I rolled up the window and ran the wipers to try and kill it, then began to itch all over. But that's not the worst of it. I looked at the FI-ance to ask if he saw the damn spider die. As soon as I finish the question my gaze is drawn upward to his sun visor, which is mere millimeters from his cap. And playing host to another very, very large spider.
Then I started screaming.
I turned the light on so he could kill it, but of course "spiders kill worse things, we like spiders. I can't just kill it." Me=Still Screaming. But now I'm driving too because the light's changed. He grabs some ephemera from somewhere in the car and attempts to put the beast out the window. What kills me is that we don't know if he got it OUTSIDE or not. It was too dark and FI-ance was too goofy from flu to notice for sure.
So, America's spiders are officially on notice. As of this weekend Lila Ford will be spotless and unable to accept any new occupants. You dig?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Ahh, Spring...
We were hit with an unexpected cold snap at the beginning of April. Blooming things had to retreat to the earth from wince they came, and those that couldn't will have to wait until next year to be seen again.
Saturday was chilly and rainy, but a fun and family-filled day. The FI-ance and my parents are this close to meeting now, since we saw them both on Saturday (the first time this happened on a non-holiday). His 'rents are the very eager type; if they're up early they assume we are too and insist on calling. Of course, this time we were glad they called because they were about half way to our still-sleep-filled house. On top of that we had to take the FI-ance's car for an oil change before they got to us and it was only 9:30am. Suddenly I had to put on clothes, hide stray underwear and clean the bathroom. And you know there's more, right? I'd told Mrs. FI-ance that I'd scan all the photos she gave me of FI-ance as a wobbly-headed boy by Saturday so that if we saw them she could take her albums back. You know I didn't do it. Stop playing, internet.
After a fairly short visit, where the 'rents dropped off the FI-ance's ladders and loaned us a big ol' saw for hacking away at the tree in the backyard, we picked up the car and then headed out to lunch. I wanted a simple soup and sandwich BAD, but the FI-ance wanted Chinese so I gave in and settled on our local Chinese Buffet. Don't get me wrong, I love a good buffet. My problem is that I love them too much. I always eat one plate too many and I always know I'm doing it.
What did me in this time? Oh, Lord. The. Peach. Cobbler. I will admit here that I am a bit oddball-like because I hate peaches and hate cooked peaches even more. But? But. That peach juice combined with a crispy, brown, flaky crust gets me every time. I had two heaping helpings. Almost ate myself sick.
Which brings me to all my health issues. I went to an internist Monday, she did a little physical exam and told me nothing felt or looked unusual. I go back tomorrow morning for blood work so they can check for thyroid conditions, diabetes, cholesterol issues...
Can I make a confession? I would love to be able to blame my insane weight gain on a semi-serious illness. LOVE IT. How sick is that? Obviously I had to step on a scale when I went to the doctor, and I've gained about 7 pounds since January. I thought about ordering some pants for summer today (size 22 women's...yay), but have since become a bit depressed. I look at all the crap I could be buying if I weren't so fat - cheap, cute stuff. Then I look at the fat people clothes - mostly matronly and expensive. Or, if they're cute, REALLY OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive. I cannot win.
It's also possible I've got irritable bowl syndrome. I might have to go to a gastrointerologist to see for sure. If my blood work comes back clear I'll have no more excuses; it'll be pretty clear that the fatigue is probably due to my 40lbs-in-one-year weight gain.
My doc suggested Weight Watchers and actually going to the meetings. I know it works for a lot of people, but it just seems so cheesy (mmmmm...cheeeeeese...). Sitting in a depressing little room filled with fat people talking about how hard it is to stop being fat. Not being able to say words like "cookie", "barbecue", "ham" or "bread" because it might be some fat fuck's trigger word or whatever.
Dammit. Can you tell how my day's going?
Saturday was chilly and rainy, but a fun and family-filled day. The FI-ance and my parents are this close to meeting now, since we saw them both on Saturday (the first time this happened on a non-holiday). His 'rents are the very eager type; if they're up early they assume we are too and insist on calling. Of course, this time we were glad they called because they were about half way to our still-sleep-filled house. On top of that we had to take the FI-ance's car for an oil change before they got to us and it was only 9:30am. Suddenly I had to put on clothes, hide stray underwear and clean the bathroom. And you know there's more, right? I'd told Mrs. FI-ance that I'd scan all the photos she gave me of FI-ance as a wobbly-headed boy by Saturday so that if we saw them she could take her albums back. You know I didn't do it. Stop playing, internet.
After a fairly short visit, where the 'rents dropped off the FI-ance's ladders and loaned us a big ol' saw for hacking away at the tree in the backyard, we picked up the car and then headed out to lunch. I wanted a simple soup and sandwich BAD, but the FI-ance wanted Chinese so I gave in and settled on our local Chinese Buffet. Don't get me wrong, I love a good buffet. My problem is that I love them too much. I always eat one plate too many and I always know I'm doing it.
What did me in this time? Oh, Lord. The. Peach. Cobbler. I will admit here that I am a bit oddball-like because I hate peaches and hate cooked peaches even more. But? But. That peach juice combined with a crispy, brown, flaky crust gets me every time. I had two heaping helpings. Almost ate myself sick.
Which brings me to all my health issues. I went to an internist Monday, she did a little physical exam and told me nothing felt or looked unusual. I go back tomorrow morning for blood work so they can check for thyroid conditions, diabetes, cholesterol issues...
Can I make a confession? I would love to be able to blame my insane weight gain on a semi-serious illness. LOVE IT. How sick is that? Obviously I had to step on a scale when I went to the doctor, and I've gained about 7 pounds since January. I thought about ordering some pants for summer today (size 22 women's...yay), but have since become a bit depressed. I look at all the crap I could be buying if I weren't so fat - cheap, cute stuff. Then I look at the fat people clothes - mostly matronly and expensive. Or, if they're cute, REALLY OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive. I cannot win.
It's also possible I've got irritable bowl syndrome. I might have to go to a gastrointerologist to see for sure. If my blood work comes back clear I'll have no more excuses; it'll be pretty clear that the fatigue is probably due to my 40lbs-in-one-year weight gain.
My doc suggested Weight Watchers and actually going to the meetings. I know it works for a lot of people, but it just seems so cheesy (mmmmm...cheeeeeese...). Sitting in a depressing little room filled with fat people talking about how hard it is to stop being fat. Not being able to say words like "cookie", "barbecue", "ham" or "bread" because it might be some fat fuck's trigger word or whatever.
Dammit. Can you tell how my day's going?
Friday, March 30, 2007
March=Medicine
You know what internet? I've had a weird month. There's been a vague sense of intestinal illness hovering about me all March long. It's irritating. I can't seem to regulate the bloating, farting, going-to-the-bathroom, not-going-to-the-bathroom stuff. I've taken so much stuff to settle my stomach in the last 30 days that I, personally, could keep the Tums and Rolaids people afloat.
I even had to take two days off just for all the farting. It was honestly gas that you would not believe. What do you mean, why am I telling you this? It's Friday morning, stop pretending you've got something better to do. Ok?
Anyway, it was insane. The entire two days I was off I thought something bigger and badder had to be coming, but it never did. I finally took Immodium just to stop the bloat-fart cycle. Unfortunately it also stopped another cycle, which lead to one interesting night a couple of weeks ago.
About four months ago I got recommendations from my gyno for a GP. I sent an email to one (who takes my insurance) to get an appointment, but never heard anything. I was trying to avoid talking to anybody if I didn't have to, but now I suppose I've got no choice.
Fuck.
I even had to take two days off just for all the farting. It was honestly gas that you would not believe. What do you mean, why am I telling you this? It's Friday morning, stop pretending you've got something better to do. Ok?
Anyway, it was insane. The entire two days I was off I thought something bigger and badder had to be coming, but it never did. I finally took Immodium just to stop the bloat-fart cycle. Unfortunately it also stopped another cycle, which lead to one interesting night a couple of weeks ago.
About four months ago I got recommendations from my gyno for a GP. I sent an email to one (who takes my insurance) to get an appointment, but never heard anything. I was trying to avoid talking to anybody if I didn't have to, but now I suppose I've got no choice.
Fuck.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Has It Really Come To This?
I was minding my own business Thursday night. Doing a little pre-bed grooming: washing the face, brushing the teeth and such. I noticed the eyebrows needed some maintaining. So I started plucking. What, you ask is so special about that? Well, nothing. Except? Except that I HAD TO PLUCK A GRAY EYEBROW HAIR.
Damn. Really? At 32? This is what my future holds now? Gray facial hairs? Seriously?
Don't get me wrong, I realize this is nobody's fault. But I don't think I can do this. It's bad enough I get the occasional whisker that needs removing. I've been dealing with that crap since I was about 24. But if I have to yank a gray whisker from any of my whisker-spots prior to my 40th birthday, I truly think it may kill me.
So, face? You're on notice asswipe. Tone that shit down.
Damn. Really? At 32? This is what my future holds now? Gray facial hairs? Seriously?
Don't get me wrong, I realize this is nobody's fault. But I don't think I can do this. It's bad enough I get the occasional whisker that needs removing. I've been dealing with that crap since I was about 24. But if I have to yank a gray whisker from any of my whisker-spots prior to my 40th birthday, I truly think it may kill me.
So, face? You're on notice asswipe. Tone that shit down.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
7:20AM Sucks
Well, it finally happened. After getting to work a half hour late for a few days I finally got spanked. I had to have a mid-point catch-up thingy with my supervisor last Friday, and was quite gently told to stop my being late bullshit. I really had been meaning to work on that, but you know what? I hate waking up early and hadn't gotten in trouble so I said fuck it. I knew it was crap, though, so I'm attempting to rectify my shit.
I got up before 8am yesterday and damned if it didn't screw me over. I got a headache, my eyeball started itching and then I felt sick to my stomach. And yes, I honestly do believe getting up early did all that to me.
It is now the same time that I started to fall apart yesterday. Wish me luck.
I got up before 8am yesterday and damned if it didn't screw me over. I got a headache, my eyeball started itching and then I felt sick to my stomach. And yes, I honestly do believe getting up early did all that to me.
It is now the same time that I started to fall apart yesterday. Wish me luck.
Friday, March 16, 2007
My Right Boob Is Out Of Control
No matter what bra I put on, it's like Right Boobica has a mind of her own. Every time I look down I find she's trying to unleash herself on the world. I freely admit to staying far away from underwired, super-supportive, side-binding, back-flattening, old-droopy-lady bras. But dammit, Boobica! Control yourself already!!
-------------------------------------------------
I had a dream the night before last. I've had some well-documented freak show dreams, but this one was odd mainly for it's brevity. It was a dark, rainy night. The FI-ance and I were living in the house I grew up in, which had two front doors; one where the door really was on the right side, and one on the left side. The house was dark and we heard a noise. We opened the left door to a life-sized milk chocolate rendering of Arnold Swartzenegger. That was it. I think I might donate my brain to science after I die.
-------------------------------------------------
Almost two weeks ago now I was using the bathroom and talking to my mom on the phone (Quiet! She's my mom, ok?). The house came with one of those storage-y over-the-toilet cabinet things, and Tux likes to lounge around up there. You know, maybe look out the window a bit. Well, silly-cat-face was doing just that, and as he tried to back out of the window onto the top shelf he fell. Onto me. As I talked on the phone while sitting on the toilet. My life, it can get no better.
------------------------------------------------
So, I went to the eye doctor Wednesday. Apparently my glasses are useless now, even though I hadn't noticed. I've got more myopias & astigmatisms & such, and therefore spent $400 on new glasses. While I'm glad I had the cash to spend and didn't need to lay it on my Citibank, I was really wanting to get something fun and basically frivolous with my tax refund. Like a new camera, or a nice little trip someplace. An additional $400 is going to be spent on starting to fix our screwy pipes. That leaves about $125. Damned responsibility.
-------------------------------------------------
Also on Wednesday? Another bathroom adventure. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me. I eat a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast almost everyday, suck down lots of veggies and fruit. But what happened for the second time in 7 days? Yes, I stopped up the toilet. Honestly? That's just not ladylike. What's worse is that after a half hour of plunging (my hand has been sore for two days...shut up), I still couldn't get things to move along, out of my life and out of my house. The FI-ance had fallen asleep at his desk, but I woke him up and if my face weren't so naturally brown it would have turned bright red because I was em-bar-ras-sed. I asked him if he wanted to try. He thankfully said no (I really didn't want him going in there and seeing...well, what he would have had to see), so I headed to WalMart. Thank God they had a toilet snake. Incidentally? As I left and drove home I felt like everyone I passed knew I PERSONALLY had clogged up a toilet.
-------------------------------------------------
I had a dream the night before last. I've had some well-documented freak show dreams, but this one was odd mainly for it's brevity. It was a dark, rainy night. The FI-ance and I were living in the house I grew up in, which had two front doors; one where the door really was on the right side, and one on the left side. The house was dark and we heard a noise. We opened the left door to a life-sized milk chocolate rendering of Arnold Swartzenegger. That was it. I think I might donate my brain to science after I die.
-------------------------------------------------
Almost two weeks ago now I was using the bathroom and talking to my mom on the phone (Quiet! She's my mom, ok?). The house came with one of those storage-y over-the-toilet cabinet things, and Tux likes to lounge around up there. You know, maybe look out the window a bit. Well, silly-cat-face was doing just that, and as he tried to back out of the window onto the top shelf he fell. Onto me. As I talked on the phone while sitting on the toilet. My life, it can get no better.
------------------------------------------------
So, I went to the eye doctor Wednesday. Apparently my glasses are useless now, even though I hadn't noticed. I've got more myopias & astigmatisms & such, and therefore spent $400 on new glasses. While I'm glad I had the cash to spend and didn't need to lay it on my Citibank, I was really wanting to get something fun and basically frivolous with my tax refund. Like a new camera, or a nice little trip someplace. An additional $400 is going to be spent on starting to fix our screwy pipes. That leaves about $125. Damned responsibility.
-------------------------------------------------
Also on Wednesday? Another bathroom adventure. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me. I eat a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast almost everyday, suck down lots of veggies and fruit. But what happened for the second time in 7 days? Yes, I stopped up the toilet. Honestly? That's just not ladylike. What's worse is that after a half hour of plunging (my hand has been sore for two days...shut up), I still couldn't get things to move along, out of my life and out of my house. The FI-ance had fallen asleep at his desk, but I woke him up and if my face weren't so naturally brown it would have turned bright red because I was em-bar-ras-sed. I asked him if he wanted to try. He thankfully said no (I really didn't want him going in there and seeing...well, what he would have had to see), so I headed to WalMart. Thank God they had a toilet snake. Incidentally? As I left and drove home I felt like everyone I passed knew I PERSONALLY had clogged up a toilet.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
My Financial Nitwittery Strikes Again
My current major source of consternation is my own idiocy. I've managed twice in the past two months to incur 4 insufficient funds fees and, for about a week, a long string of negative balance fees. The most fantastic part? These God dammed fees ate up a healthy portion of my state tax refund. I finally got up the nerve to call and try to get the shit waived yesterday, but as I suspected, it was no use. I suppose I could've been harder nosed or tried crying, but it's my own fucking fault. I really will get it together one day.
On a considerably more positive note, I've begun saving again. I set up automatic deposits to my savings account on the 15th of every month, with the added hope of putting something in at every other pay period too. I have not told the FI-ance, but now that he's read this I hope he'll continue to trust my spankin' new saving acumen and just let me handle this. OK, boy?
The thing about having a house is that issues just keep coming. We had finally gotten all settled when we noticed the basement drain backing up every time we did the laundry. We called a plumber...and then we called him again 3 days later. Turns out our pipes are offset and that's what's with all the blockage. It's apparently a lateral line problem, which means our fair city has to come out and run a camera through the pipes to see where the issue is.
What's that you say? Oh, heavens no! The camera work isn't free, that'll be $400 please, says the city of Kirkwood. On top of that, when we finally go to get the crap fixed for good we'll be on the hook for %40 of the $3,000 to $6,000 cost of repairs, even though it's the city's pipes that are fucked. What the Hell! As long as nothing is going to cave in, the FI-ance and I have agreed to wait and not put ourselves into anymore debt over this pipe thing. And (knockonwoodpraisetheLord) the basement hasn't backed up in two weeks anyway.
Also, we could use more kitchen cabinets. We've gotten rid of a ton of pots, pans, dishes and utensils, but there still isn't enough room for what's left and, you know...food. I've had to resort to using the oven as storage space, and not just the broiler part at the bottom, but the whole damn thing, y'all. We have one good wall for cabinets, and the FI-ance's estimate of parts and labor sets us back $500 big ones. Why couldn't the heifer who rehabbed this place had thought to put those up? I mean how is anybody supposed to fit all their dishes and food and shit into 4 cabinets, one of which has the sink/garbage disposal pipes running through it? Bitch, please.
Now that's it's warming up a bit there are some spring type things we need. A water hose, stain and seal for the deck, a rake, lawn mower, edge trimmer, and definitely some pest control. Every time I venture into the basement now, I see at least one roach. I cannot stand the idea of those things in my house. Even in the basement. Now, we had a conversation about this just last night: the FI-ance claims (though he hasn't seen any of the bugs) that I'm not seeing roaches. "I bet some of them are beetles." Honestly, I realize that an unfinished basement, especially, is gonna have buggles of all kinds. But I know a roach when I see one. And, yes, we have roaches, of the cock variety, in the nethers of our house.
I'm trying to be reasonable about it. I wanted to go to Lowe's or Home Depot and get one of those giant bug jugs with the sprayer on it, douse the outside of the house and a few important corners inside and be done with it. FI-ance wants to call the Orkin man. Here I am trying to be all do-it-yourselfy, and he wants to spend more money on professional spraying service. Cause that's all there is to it, right? You buy some good killin' stuff, spray it and you're done. Right?
On a considerably more positive note, I've begun saving again. I set up automatic deposits to my savings account on the 15th of every month, with the added hope of putting something in at every other pay period too. I have not told the FI-ance, but now that he's read this I hope he'll continue to trust my spankin' new saving acumen and just let me handle this. OK, boy?
The thing about having a house is that issues just keep coming. We had finally gotten all settled when we noticed the basement drain backing up every time we did the laundry. We called a plumber...and then we called him again 3 days later. Turns out our pipes are offset and that's what's with all the blockage. It's apparently a lateral line problem, which means our fair city has to come out and run a camera through the pipes to see where the issue is.
What's that you say? Oh, heavens no! The camera work isn't free, that'll be $400 please, says the city of Kirkwood. On top of that, when we finally go to get the crap fixed for good we'll be on the hook for %40 of the $3,000 to $6,000 cost of repairs, even though it's the city's pipes that are fucked. What the Hell! As long as nothing is going to cave in, the FI-ance and I have agreed to wait and not put ourselves into anymore debt over this pipe thing. And (knockonwoodpraisetheLord) the basement hasn't backed up in two weeks anyway.
Also, we could use more kitchen cabinets. We've gotten rid of a ton of pots, pans, dishes and utensils, but there still isn't enough room for what's left and, you know...food. I've had to resort to using the oven as storage space, and not just the broiler part at the bottom, but the whole damn thing, y'all. We have one good wall for cabinets, and the FI-ance's estimate of parts and labor sets us back $500 big ones. Why couldn't the heifer who rehabbed this place had thought to put those up? I mean how is anybody supposed to fit all their dishes and food and shit into 4 cabinets, one of which has the sink/garbage disposal pipes running through it? Bitch, please.
Now that's it's warming up a bit there are some spring type things we need. A water hose, stain and seal for the deck, a rake, lawn mower, edge trimmer, and definitely some pest control. Every time I venture into the basement now, I see at least one roach. I cannot stand the idea of those things in my house. Even in the basement. Now, we had a conversation about this just last night: the FI-ance claims (though he hasn't seen any of the bugs) that I'm not seeing roaches. "I bet some of them are beetles." Honestly, I realize that an unfinished basement, especially, is gonna have buggles of all kinds. But I know a roach when I see one. And, yes, we have roaches, of the cock variety, in the nethers of our house.
I'm trying to be reasonable about it. I wanted to go to Lowe's or Home Depot and get one of those giant bug jugs with the sprayer on it, douse the outside of the house and a few important corners inside and be done with it. FI-ance wants to call the Orkin man. Here I am trying to be all do-it-yourselfy, and he wants to spend more money on professional spraying service. Cause that's all there is to it, right? You buy some good killin' stuff, spray it and you're done. Right?
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