I Hab a Colb

I have a cold. I think. My ears are hurting, like they are going to burst. I'm all snotty and sneezy. Achy and breaky. I'm two dwarfs shy of finding Snow White. I start back to school today. I am really very excited about this, but you can't tell 'cause I'm so snotty. Also? I took a dose of day cold meds this morning, and forgot to bring them with me because they lose their magic after 4 hours. That'll be right around the time I leave for school. This is wonderful because I'm sure I'll infect like at least half the class. They'll all be thanking me next week. I'm sure of it. I may be running a fever. This can't be good. Someone send in reinforcements please!

A Very Good Point!

After reading my good friend Steph's blog this morning, I realized that: 1.) she makes an EXCELLENT point, and 2.) I have been holding back about this for WAAAAY too long. So, here I go, on my cute little pink soap box:

If you use a public restroom please, PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, wipe up your own piss after you squat to pee in the toilet!! I am so sick and tired of cleaning up after grown-ass women who are so freakin' afraid that they'll catch some deadly disease from a God-forsaken toilet seat! After you pee ALL OVER THE SEAT do you really think its sanitary for SOMEONE ELSE, A STRANGER, to risk touching your BODILY FLUIDS?? It's not like they hand out rubber gloves in the john. If you are a seat-wetter, why can you not adapt and do what normal people would do? Either grab one of those fancy seat covers that are on the wall, or if none are available, do what I do: Toilet paper the hell out of the seat. Every single time I have to wipe up after you sprinkle queens, I get a little more disgusted. Nine times out of ten, I have to wait to use the potty. It is a women's bathroom, afterall. We require more time to do our duty. Take the extra 3.7 seconds to CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS. I read an article the other day that simply stated that all you hover-ers are more likely to get a urinary tract or bladder infection because when you hover you are not completely emptying your bladders. Serves you right! While you are trying to avoid contact with the toilet seat of death, you are making your ownself more suseptible to infection and practically sky-rocketing the chances of someone else catching an infectin FROM YOU.

You know that sign that I'm sure all of your grandma's have hanging in their bathrooms? "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie"? This rule also applies in public locations. I swanee, the next time I go into a packed public restroom to use the facilities and some great hovering woman has pissed all over the seat, I am going to embarass the crap out of her! SHE should have to clean up HER mess. Not me. It'll probably go a little something like this: "(tap her on the shoulder) I'm sorry, but when I came into the restroom I wasn't given a pair of rubber gloves." (she will be thoroughly confused, think the "wtf" variety, and probably say "And??" or "So?") that's when I'll say, "So, if you don't mind, I really don't want to clean up YOUR piss before I sit on the toilet!" I think that ending could go one of two ways, don't you?

Makes a girl feel down right good about herself!

Today I decided to treat myself to the best. lunch. evah! at Panera Bread. And I swear from the parking lot to the door I got all kinds of stares. From men in suits to little teenage kids. My first thought was: "Oh no! I didn't get all the sugar off that powdered donut off me!" My second thought was: "Oh no! I forgot to zip my fly {AGAIN}! (I do this alot!)! I willed myself not to think about what was all over my face or not zipped until I got back to the car. I checked myself out in the sun's reflection and realized that I had NOTHING on my face and my fly was TOTALLY zipped. I didn't have anything in my teeth and I didn't sit in poo. So my only conclusion is: I must be LOOKIN' GOOD today!

Also? I have come to the conclusion that, since I gained about 40 lbs. since marriage, even if I gain 40 MORE pounds {oh dear God forbid upon everything so sacred and holy}, my ass will always look FABULOUS. Thank you clothing Gods for Express Jeans and American Eagle; for you ALWAYS make my [fat] ass look bootylicious.

Friday's Pick

This Friday's pick is "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell," by Tucker Max. What can I say? This book was the funniest thing I've read in a long time. I was literally crying from laughing so hard. This guy is a complete asshole, a belligerent drunk and a womanizer. But most of all, he's too damn funny! His short stories are almost unbelievable. He says they are all true, and even though some are slightly doubtful, after reading the rest you can almost be sure he can't make this stuff up. Tucker got his undergrad at the University of Chicago and then went to Duke Law School for his J.D. When asked why he is a writer, not a lawyer, he responds that he doesn't hate his life enough to be an attorney. Along with Tucker are some friends: PWJ, El Bingeroso, SlingBlade, Hate, Credit and many more. This guy has been characterized as a cult icon. His book is the male form of chick lit. I highly recommend going out and buying this book. You won't be disappointed.

This from the introduction:

My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole. I get excessively drunk at inappropriate times, disregard social norms, indulge every whim, ignore the consequences of my actions, mock idiots and posers, sleep with more women than is safe or reasonable, and just generally act like a raging dickhead. But, I do contribute to humanity in one very important way: I share my adventures with the world.

* Go on and read it. You know you want to.

How to manage turning over new leaves

"Practice makes perfect. Be careful what you practice." -- Venita from Cupcake Brown's book, "A Piece of Cake: A Memoir."


I am 25. A quarter of a century old. And yet, I can't make it to work on time (or anywhere near on-time some days), I blow things off, I sit and am lazy, I get in "funks" far more often, I let the laundry pile up, I don't pride myself in the things I used to, I don't eat meals regularly, I say I'm gonna quit something I should and don't, I say I'm gonna start doing something and don't. I am 25. I think it's about time I get my life together. Don't you?

Here are a few things I want to accomplish:
*Getting to bed before midnight. I stay up late reading EVERY night.
*Having a set schedule. I am a notorious procrastinator.
*Getting to work ON TIME. EVERYDAY. I really, really need to work on this one.
*Set aside certain days and times to do certain things around the house. That way I won't feel overwhelmed.
*Keep ALL promises, regardless of ANYTHING. I'm not a habitual liar or anything, but sometimes I blow things off due to moods, lack of interest, or laziness.
*Eat 3 meals a day. NO JUNK! Cookies for breakfast is not breakfast!
*Stop smoking. I know I will before we have a kid, but the weezing is just not attractive.
*Start taking walks. With or without the dog. With or without Ma Dukes.
*Be my own cheerleader. If I don't, who else will?
*Stop biting my nails. This one will be very hard!
*Work on some minor communication issues in my marriage.
*Learn to RELAX. And do it often.
*Don't sweat the small stuff.
*Be a better time manager.
*Get a better handle on my finances.
*I used to LOVE to cook. Refind that love and cook gloriously.
*Get out of my comfort zone.
*Try new things.
*Don't alienate the people that love me in my life. Depression will not get the best of me. I need people.
*Know that it's okay to cry sometimes, if for no reason at all. We all need a good cry every now and then.
*Don't nag the Hubbs so much. I know he's had a long day too, and I know he doesn't want to come home to that crap. (this one may be slightly hard. i have certain husband expectations. I swear if that trash is not out of my garage by the weekend, I'm gonna blow my top!)


Wow, this list is long! But, just like Weight Watchers makes you accountable for what you eat, I need to make myself accountable for my life. Yesterday? I only ate lunch. I had Pizza Hut take out. For dinner? I had a handful of popcorn and some chocolate ice cream. Very Nutritious! Also? I've been coming in to work at around 9:30am. I'm supposed to be here at 8. No wonder my paycheck isn't what I think it should be. Look at the time I'm missing! I've been getting a little (read: ALOT) out of hand lately. I'm not a morning person AT.ALL. I have no clue how to transform myself into one. I don't drink coffee. I'm always in a rush everywhere I go. I'm not sleeping well at night, nor am I getting enough sleep. I still have no energy (and I just realized that with all the non-carbs I'm eating, this maybe why). As much Mt. Dew as I've been drinking, I don't know why I don't just insert an IV, as it would be easier. I've just been down in the dumps lately. BLah. So, I'm going to try (keyword) to be the best ME I can be. School is about to start back and I need to gear up for that.

Starting tonight, I am going home to cook dinner. I will fold up the 3 day old clothes still in the dryer. I will wash one more load of clothes, lest I go pantless to work tomorrow. I will go to my parents house (they just got back from vacation with goodies!). I will only allow myself to read until 9:30. Then I will go to bed. I will try not to nag. I will try to be happy and cheerful. I have had 2 cookies (that are kinda stale) for breakfast, but I will go get a healthy lunch. I will make muffins for breakfast tomorrow. I will plan next weeks meals and chore schedule. I will sit down and review our budget. I will turn the dirt over in my flowerbed so that I can plant. I will wash my car. I will wipe the walls down in the house, so when we go get paint, we don't have to do it. I will vaccuum out my car. I will put the Christmas decorations up, instead of leaving them in the middle of the garage. I will clean out the fridge and stop buying stuff at the grocery store that I know we won't eat (or eat in a timely fashion). I will pick a paint color for the guest bathroom. I will spend more time when I get home trying to engage my husband in conversation (he gets home and doesn't move from the T.V.; I get home and don't move from my book. see the problem?) I will be less or not at all judgemental (this one is going to be really hard too. I'm not a bad person; I'm just opinionated.) I will be more encouraging of myself AND of others. I will vow less to lose weight, and vow more to be healthier.

That list is a little long too! I will absolutely try, put my heart and soul, no more excuses, today! I will go get a healthy, non-burger and fries lunch. I will also try to figure out what this smell on my shirt is. I know it's clean, but when I opened our closet this morning, something smelled a little off. When I get home, I'm going to do some investigating! Wish me luck!


"Making mistakes simply means you are learning faster." - Weston H. Agor

I'm back!

I am back from vacation. And guess what?? It was TOTALLY AWESOME! I just hope I don't have to wait another 6 years until I get another one. Hubbs, D, and B went to Emerald Isle. It was fantastic! I was spectacular! I was really freakin' hot! We went to the beach, laid out, got tan, and walked five hundred miles in the process. Hubbs' grandparents own a beach house so we got to stay fo' free fo' the week. Which in and of itself is just by gawd fabulous! We took Pookie and even he had a blast. Honestly, the pup has only been swimming once and when we took him to the sound for a bit of splashing around, he was a riot.



We played putt-putt twice, and I'm proud to say that my husband the "Putt-Putt Prodigy" won both times. D joked that he had the home court advantage. I mean, honestly? The kid never loses. It's almost sickening to watch him putt so effortlessly. I, on the other hand, am skilled at the short shots. The long (and by long I mean from the start of the tee off spot to the hole) distances, not so much. Also? I got a hole in one ONCE! So eat that!



The highlight of our week in paradise was renting jet skis for D's birthday. It's like riding a 4-wheeler with no wheels. It's alot lower to the water than I expected and I'm not exaggerating when I say that I thoroughly freaked out when we got on them. I actually begged the dock guy to promptly swim in and save me if it even looked like I was gonna drown. Me and water? Are not friends. I swim like a rock. Sure, I can keep myself afloat and do a retarded doggy paddle, but that's it. In a nutshell, I could possibly keep myself from drowning, but I don't want to risk it. Lucky for me, Hubbs was driving and kept looking back at me to make sure I hadn't passed out and fell off the back of the thing. We rented them for an hour and after the first 30 minutes I started to relax and enjoy myself. It was great fun.



We went to the end of the island one day, where the ocean and sound meet, and discovered a sort of moat oasis in the sand. Houses line this stretch of water and there were sand bags practically holding up their porches and decks. Right where the sand bags began was a stretch of water on the sand, like a lazy river. I'm not a fan of the ocean. I'll get out there and get wet, but I'm like SO scared of being pulled under. Note my lack of swimming skills. But when we found this little treasure I was in heaven. It was shallow and also deep, so Hubbs and I swam the length of it a couple of times. We stayed out there for almost 5 hours! It was awesome!



Along with my lack of swimming skills, I possess impatience for laying out. I get bored really easy. I hate, hate, hate being out there in the hot sun and I fear the ocean, so I usually bring a book to read. That in turn, gets me picked on. Fat girls don't like to sweat. And? This fat girl is not going to drown if she can help it. So my beach/sun was limited to about 3 hour incriments until we found our sand oasis. Also? I have no stamina in the heat.



We got up early one morning and went back to the end of the island to collect shells before the day's beach-goers could snatch them up. I found 3/4 of a sand dollar and lots of pieces of sand dollars. And wouldn't you know it, Hubbs found the prettiest shells. The sad part was, the sand oasis had been mostly washed away with the tide. Sigh. Maybe next year when we take vacation it will be back.



Oh yeah! One of the funniest, best and proudest parts of our vacation was..... That I actually bought and wore a bikini. Yep. This fat girl broke down and felt good enough about herself to actually parade half-naked in public. Was my big ol' buddah belly hangin' out? YES. Were my stretch marks showing? Yes. Did Hubbs like my water outfit? Yes. Did I finally feel good enough to wear one for the first time in almost 4 years? YES! However, I would like to issue an apology to the beach-goers! HAHAHA! The best part was seeing women bigger than myself in bikini's too! You GO GIRLS! I say to hell with it. I was on vacation. I've got the tan lines to prove it!

How about some encouragement

This is the story of a woman who has everything and was dealt a blow of defeat. This woman is my mother. My mama is a practical woman. She has built a life with my Padre. They had one kid (Me!), have a nice house, nice cars, and one spoiled ass dog (Mickey). She and my Padre were married when he was 20 and she was 19. One year and one month later, yours truly was born. They never had a honeymoon save for the take out pizza and popcorn after the wedding, then it was back to work at their third shift jobs at the local cotton mill. So last year, for their 25th wedding anniversary, my Padre took her to Disney World. To say that my mama loves Mickey Mouse is a gross understatement. She shed tears when she was told she would get to meet him privately, and she shed some more when it was time to come back home. My Padre made a promise to her when they were married: I will give you everything you've ever wanted. She says he's made good on his promise. When she looks back through her pictures of that wonderful week in Florida, she'll run to him in the living room. He'll be sitting in his recliner that is slightly lopsided and worn from so much use, but not enough to throw it out and get a new one, and she'll wrap her arms around him and cry. She'll tell him how much she loves him and thank him profusely for taking her to the happiest place on earth. She'll joke about moving there to be a follower of the Mouse. He'll joke about seeing her once a year while he's on vacation. She loves him, and he loves her, and I love them both. She deserves nothing but the best. After all, she's had to put up with him for 26 years, and me for 25. She definitely deserves a medal. Or at least a purple heart. She's one of the smartest and kindest people I know.

That's why it's a little unnerving that she can't get the job she wants. She's been faithful to her company for 8 years. She makes less money than those who just started a year ago. She hasn't had a raise in 4 years. Her boss just built a new million dollar building for his business and would rather pay them overtime than give them a raise. My mother has not been happy in her job. She has helped a friend from a previous job, obtain a job with her. That friend stabbed her in the back. She goes to work everyday and does her job to the best of her abilities, which after eight years are alot. She minds her own business, makes a few friends, and gets demeaned by her boss. She's unhappy, so she looks for other employment. She applies to endless other companies and never hears a word. She hurts her hip (I forget how) and when she gives her boss her doctor's note, he calls her doctor an idiot. He says, "There is nothing wrong with you." She still goes to work and does her job to the best of her ability. She is faithful to her company. Last year after her vacation, she applies to numerous other companies and vows, "The first offer I get, I'm gone." She never hears a word about her resume or applications.

About a month ago, my mother was taken to the hospital by my Padre. Around 5:30 in the morning, my mother thought she was having a heart attack. I went to see her in the hospital. She looked so beaten down, so fragile. I was afraid to touch her. She looked so weak, so defeated. The cardiologist came in and spoke with all three of us. She would have a nuclear stress test to determine how strong her heart was, but he didn't see any signs of a heart attack. After he left, and it was just the three of us, I held my mother's hand. She started crying and said, "My job is going to end up killing me." The company that she had stayed faithful to, because she loved the work, was trying to break her down. They didn't care that she came in at 7 am every morning and busted her ass to make sure her job was done and done correctly. Nor did they care that she never made waves and always did as she was told. They were trying to break her spirit. Then they could hire some hispanic lady who speaks very little English for a fraction of what they were paying her, to do her job. Her company does not care about their employees. When my Padre and I called her company to relay that she would not be in to work for the next few days, they didn't even respond. When she returned back to work, they didn't even care. This is not a big company. They probably have about 25 employees.

I could tell that my mother, who once was full of energy and fiesty, was now in a funk. She was cranky and didn't care to do almost anything. When my mother left the hospital she was placed on a small dose of Zoloft. Her tests came back as stress related. The cardiologist felt she was a little depressed. When she came home from her short stay in the hospital she cried because he had placed her on an anti-depressant. Depression runs in our family, but is not talked about. So does anxiety. I have both. My mother felt defeated. Her regular doctor placed her on another ant-depressant, Welbutrin. I have been prescribed this before. I try to console my mother that it's okay to have some help (the Welbutrin) once in a while until you don't need it anymore. I am currently not on anything(although I feel I need to be). I try to be her words of encouragement. She just found out that her sister is on an anti-depressant, and although it doesn't instantly relieve her apprehension, it helps. My mother comes home from work and cries. She looks like she's unsure of herself now. She isn't fiesty. My mother has suffered a blow.

When she came home from the hospital, I whipped out her resume and combed the internet for jobs that she was qualified for. I sent out resumes and applications. I searched everyday. I still search. We search the newspaper together. We talk a couple of times a week and she asks me everytime if I've heard anything from any prospects. It breaks my heart when I have to tell her no. We believe that her company, the one she has worked so hard for for the last 8 years, is sabotaging her efforts to better herself. She hasn't had a raise in 4 years. She has no benefits. She works her fingers to the bone and is never rewarded. Not even a simple "Thank you for all you do." She works for a company who does not care. And now they are nixing her efforts at every corner to escape. She needs a morale boost and they will not give it to her. My mother's job will end up killing her. It will sap her of happiness. And it is truly a shame.

Can we be honest for a minute?

Okay. This is gonna be a sort of weird post for me.. So deep breaths.. WOO SAAHH.

Okay. I'm not a real religious person. I mean, I'm from the South; I am a God-fearin' woman and all, but I don't practice my religion. I believe that there is a God and I believe in Him in my own way. I don't really know yet if I believe in a heaven or hell. I believe that some things are an act of God, or a miracle from the highest high. I believe that if He brings you to it, He'll bring you through it. And I believe that no more is placed on you than you can handle (ie: your cross to bear, so to speak). These are things I believe. I respect what you believe. And I never try to push my beliefs on anyone else. Everyone has the right to their own religion and their own beliefs. I don't appreciate the looks I get when asked about what I believe in. I don't chide you, so keep your clucking tongue to yourself.

That being said, I just read a very interesting book. Escape by Carolyn Jessop. It is her side of what really happens in a religious cult. More specifically, the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and polygamy and Warren Jeffs. Now, I have no qualms with the Mormon church who, as I understand it (correct me if I'm wrong), banned polygamy, nor do I have beef with polygamists. If you want 10 wives because you think that will mark your importance in heaven with God, then hey buddy, go get yourself 10 wives. I'm cool with that. I don't believe in it, but I'm totally cool with that. I may think you're a little sick and are just seeking a "divine" outlet for your affair-ish ways, but whatever floats your boat. Who am I to judge you? What I'm not down with? Is brainwashing, child-brides, abuse (physical and emotional), and "keeping sweet". If you want your "wives" to obey you and be obedient, then it's your marriage and your right. As a more independent woman, I seriously doubt Hubbs could "keep me in line". We are equals. You, however, are treating your "wives" as second class citizens. As property, to be bought and sold as you see fit. And that? Is sooo not cool in my book. It's about as logical as the Ahab kamakaze pilots in WTFistan believing that if they die for Allah (whoever), they'll get a 100 virgins when they die. Come. On.

Our God is an awesome God, yes. I seriously doubt, though, that he preached that we should beat our women and children and keep them subservient at all times. That we should treat them as property and that they should have no rights. That they should share one man with 5 other women and be taught that water (water?!?) is the devil and they can't swim in it. That the color red is an abomination and that all their money should be turned over to their husband. That they should marry a man they have never met, who could be 30 years their senior, at the tender age of 18 (or younger!!). That the "outside world" is so awful. That going against their "priesthood head" (their husband/prophet) would result in them spending the next life in eternal damnation.

All I can say is... BULLSHIT. Our God is mysterious, but He is surely not a money-hungry heathen like Warren Jeffs. Warren Jeffs even proclaims to BE Jesus Christ! Didn't David Koresh try that one already? Warren Jeffs has a MySpace! Go ahead.. Look it up. I did, and I wrote him a nice little message saying that I hope he rots in E-Mortal hell for what he has put "his people" through, all because he's a power/money hungry bastard. Go on, send him your thoughts. This guy is a basket case.

I just simply can not and out right refuse to belief that a God so wonderful and merciful and boutiful as ours could "lead" people like Warren Jeffs into the corruptness that is his empire. I feel so sorry for the lost souls that follow him. For the poor, sweet, innocent children that are born into this and know no other life. For the officials getting flack about storming in and taking 400 and some odd children from the compound this year in Utah/Arizona, Kudos to you. These kids need to be away from sick individuals like Jeffs. Now I agree, that if this is their way of life and the way they practice their religion, and they ARE NOT HURTING ANYONE or BREAKING A LAW, then leave them be. But when they think they are above the law and marry kids off as young as 12 to men who are 60, that is just sick and somebody's ass better go to jail. It just absolutely disgusts me. I feel strongly that government officials acted just in time for it not to be another Waco fiasco, but will it make a difference? Jeffs has appointed a pro-temp leader to take his place while he's in the slammer. The abuse is still going on. Carolyn Jessop was Merril Jessop's 4th wife. She has 8 kids. Merril Jessop now has close to 20 wives and probably close to 60 kids. Warren Jeffs is in prison and proud of the fact that he was on the FBI's 10 most wanted list. These people are a joke.

It saddens me that there are individuals in this country that exploit the name of the Lord for their own benefit and drag thousands of innocent people down with them in the process. It saddens me that there are more religious cults in this country with far more bizarre tales, and some of them will die for what they so eagerly believe. I don't believe that anyone should be persecuted for their religion, and please don't misunderstand me. I'm not persecuting these people. I simply can not wrap my mind around the thinking behind what is supposed to make this moral and right.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Woo Saahh..
I'm stepping off my soap box now, and hope that I don't have to take it again for a very long while. Thoughts? Anyone?

It's here, It's here!!

... And I can't W A I T!!!

Thursday's Pick

Quite by accident a while ago (read: I don't remember when), I found the book Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs in my public library. After reading the description I just knew I had to rush home and read it. I was not disappointed. It produced many laughs and also many WTF? situations. This kid was seriously screwed up; but it was oh-so-humorous. After reading that one little book, I felt compelled to read everything else he'd written: Sellevision, Possible Side Effects, Dry, Magical Thinking. They were all so incredible. That's why, when I read the latest Bestseller list at Barnes and Noble.com and saw that he'd turned out another bestseller, I just had to track it down. Thank you public library for recognizing the awesomeness that is Augusten Burroughs! This book is slightly different than his other works. This book is a memoir of his father. If you have read any of his other pieces, you will have noted the absence of his father. This book explains why. It's like a pre-cursor to the rest of the story. I was truly captivated by this book that sometimes made me shudder and gasp in the horrific events that almost took place. Yet another great read. Rush (Hurry, I'll wait) right out and pick this up. And if you haven't read "Running With Scissors," pick that up too. It'll finish where this one leaves off.

Thursday's Pick

By far the best book I have had the pleasure of reading in a long time.




*Edited to Add: I have picked this book up from the library before, and after reading a couple of pages found that I wasn't that interested. However, I'm always willing to give books a second chance as sometimes my mood reflects what I read, so for the second time I picked up "The Friday Night Knitting Club." I liked this book for the female comaraderie, the unexpected plot, and the characters whose lives are told in such detail that you could point them out on the street. It felt as if each one's soul was bared just expressly for the purpose of the reader. They feel like old friends that everybody knows. After the initial chapters, I found that I just could not put it down. My husband would beg me to turn off the nightstand light so he could sleep, but I couldn't. I just had to know what happened next. From the book's title, one would assume that this book was about old ladies in a knitting club; Although there is a knitting club involved, these women are far from old. They are full of spirit and humor and wit. Such an awesome read. To my friend Lindz, PLEASE, PLEASE go get this book. I promise, you will not be disappointed!

Don't forget to duck!!

Flashback: When I was living at home way back when, I remember when my parents would argue. I vowed that when I got married I would try my hardest not to argue with my spouse. My parents could be eating supper and an argument would break out and Padre would just get so disgusted that he would dump his plate, food and all, in the trash can. Then he would go to the living room and settle in his recliner and watch tv. I remember Ma Dukes cringing and willing herself not to cry while making sure that she and I finished our food as quietly as possible. Hopefully, after a while one or the other would apologize and all would be right with the world once again. I hated those dinners. The shouting, the snarling expressions on their faces, the heated discussion and the "who knows what's gonna happen next." Years later, I read an article that suggested that people shouldn't talk about argument-provoking items at the dinner table because it hendered the digestion process and had the ability to cause heartburn.

Flashforward: I guess this is why I take 2 Nexiums a day, heh. Last night Hubbs and I had a "heated discussion" (read:fight) at the dinner table. I admit that I was a little irritated before we sat down to eat. I like to cook. I like to cook uninterrupted. I like to cook alone. I wanted to make Hubbs a nice meal and was doing a damn fine job when he walked in the door and tried to "help." I don't know what happened. I just, like, didn't want him to help me. I got supper into the oven and cleaned up the mess and distributed the mail. Then when it was done, I was more than curt to him as we fixed our plates. Then we sat down. He made a snide comment about my attitude.. "pissy" and I like, lost it. We fired back and forth at each other and he got up and put his empty plate in the sink and stalked off to the living room. Me, trying to finish eating, just let my short fuse blow. I picked up my plate and hurled it into the sink, food and all, on top of all the other dishes, grabbed my Marlboro lights and slammed the garage door on my way out of the kitchen. What is wrong with me?? I was beyond irate. How dare he insult my attitude!? Of course there is more to it than my attitude. There are other underlying issues that played a hand in this dish-hurling frenzy, but I'm not going to air my dirty laundry here. After chain smoking 2 cigarettes and deciding it really wasn't worth the headache I was about to incur, I went back inside. I cleaned up the dishes. I made a plate for the next days lunch. I finished the laundry. I gave Pookie a bath. Then, I took time for me. I took a nice looonnngg shower. Read some of my current book, The Friday Night Knitting Club, and took my fabulously refreshed self to bed. Last night I was angry and like my mom, I willed myself not to cry. This morning I shared the events with my Padre cause we're close like that. He offered some suggestions. He was a bit shocked when I told him, "I pulled a Padre last night at dinner." I guess he thought his actions wouldn't have rubbed off on me. (Y'all, I swear I was so mad last night I could have broke every.dish.in.the.house. and it wouldn't have fazed me.) After he left my office (we work at the same company) the tears just started rollin'. Why do the small things irritate me so? Why couldn't I just be happy that he wanted to help me make a meal? Why do I let my anger build up so much and then unleash my wrath all at one time?

I went to Target on my lunch break because, you know, retail therapy cures EVERYTHING. And I bought a fabulous bathing suit and pair of shorts. On my way over, I called Hubbs. (Can I just say that sometimes, I get tired of apologizing. I just want to call a truce sometimes.) He was home so the garage door guy could fix the garage doors. I just called to tell him I loved him. Non-pissy. Non-apologetic. Purely genuine. Because I do. Love him. He makes me madder than a wet sitting hen, but I wouldn't trade him for nothin'. I know what life is like without him, and being with him (fighting and throwing plates, and all) is soo much better.





**Thanks to all who wished me a happy birthday!

I can haz mowtivashun?

LMAO! Maybe I need one of these!

Don't mind me..

We are officially moved in!! I promise to post some pics next week. You know, after I cut the grass so it looks all neat-like. Poor Pookie. The first night we stayed there (last Friday) he wouldn't sleep on his bed or our bed. He slept UNDER the bed. All night. The next night he slept with us, as usual. But, he's been moping around, taking to deep sighs and then ceremoniously flopping on the floor on his stomach with those sad puppy dog eyes. It's so pouty; yet so funny. I keep bribing him with treats to boost his morale. I think it's starting to work.

When we lived in the little house (our first marital home), we had two very small bedrooms, one bathroom, and the washer/dryer was out on the back screened-in porch. Let me tell you, it was hell washing clothes in the winter. But the house was soo cute. Our first home. But we had So. Much. Junk. So now that we have 3. Whole. Bedrooms. I am beside myself. One is full, which leaves the Guest Room/Nursery. I can't get over how much space we have. It's totally awesome, yo.

Still, we have to call the landlord. The dishwasher spinny thingy at the bottom won't go down flush like it's supposed to. And that means, after the dishes are clean, I have to lift those heavy bastards over the spinny thingy that won't go down. Needless to say, I've been hand-washing my dishes. Then the valve packing to the valves for the washer hook up are leaking. It's either got to be wide open or off. Not "we're gonna flood the whole house" leaking, but a slight "we'll get it a trickle at a time" leaking. Not a major concern, but still something that needs to be fixed so it won't cause other problems (floor damage) down the road. Have I mentioned that we have fifty-leven light switches and none of them are where you'd expect them to be in a room. Like, when you walk in a room you expect them to be on the wall you're walking past. Nope! They're on the opposite wall. And this is why I bought nightlights at Lowe's last weekend. Strange house + Strange light switch arrangement= A trip to the emergency room. We still haven't even figured out what most of them go to. We still haven't figured out why some of the outside lights aren't working. We're not ruling out blown bulbs, but where are the damned switches to them?!?

We have almost a two acre lot. And no lawn mower. So sad. Thankfully, Ma Dukes rode her riding mower down the street to our house before we moved in and cut our grass. Otherwise, we'd have lost the dog. Last night my Padre gave us new(er) push mower to use because Ma Dukes' riding one is going in the shop for seasonal maintenance. Hubbs took one look at me, then the push mower and guffawed himself into a frenzy pointing and laughing. Ha. Ha. He seems to think I'll be out of breath after the first hour. (Note: It took Ma Dukes almost 3 hours to cut our grass.) At that rate, it'll take me all.day.long. But, as I keep explaining, it's exercise and a chance to get some sun. I may want to have someone present to witness the fact that 1) I am cutting grass, 2) I am exercising, and 3) It's of my own free will. Hubbs is still insisting that he go get MIL's riding mower this weekend so I will not die of either a heart attack or a heat stroke while cutting the yard, and I have to tell ya, I'm not entirely opposed to the idea. I mean, the sight of a sunburned fat chick laid out in the middle of the yard screaming, "I ain't movin' til the Life Flight lands!" is not really appealling.. well, to anyone. Also, I'd hate to make a spectacle of myself in front of the new neighbors. We'll see what happens.

Christmas Underwear in May and a John Grisham novel

Okay, it's official. I'm not going to die an untimely death from Lyme's Disease. Whew! That was a close one! It turns out that you're not supposed to put Neosporin on a tick bite, which I may or may not have done, and that apparently, I'm allergic to Neosporin. I've been using this stuff for years. YEARS. And it's never affected me in any way. Until now. I'm glad that was all cleared up. There is nothing more humbling than lying on your stomach in your underwear in a doctor's office while she takes sharp objects and pokes around in a tick bite to "make sure you got the head and everything out." To top it all off, I was wearing my Christmas underwear. It's May. No, I don't like Christmas Just-that-much. I just got new draws for Christmas and like 3 pair just happened to be Christmas-y. At least I remembered to shave my legs, yo. You never know when you'll be at the doctor's office and they'll tell you to "Drop'em." I like to be prepared. So now that I'm done fearing every bug bite disease listed on Webmd.com, I've been pretty productive for a procrastinator. The goodie boxes got shipped. I've been packing up our room at the MIL's. I enlisted the help of my parents to help get my new kitchen situated. Hubbs and I got everything out of our two storage units and moved it all to the new house (in less than 2 hours!!). I have to finish moving boxes from MIL's to the new house today, drop off library books, check the mail box, call the landlord about the broken dishwasher, distribute Hubbs' paycheck to the appropriate outlets (read: bills), and unpack more stuff. I also have to go buy a trash can, Q-tips, a new razor, and shower curtain rings. Then I have to go to Ma Dukes' house and raid her linen closet for curtains and bath mats. I do believe it's gonna be a busy weekend, and it hasn't even started yet! I just got finished reading John Grisham's The Appeal. Oh, it was good! But the ending sucked. I was disappointed to say the least. But overall, the book was awesome. Now I have to work my way through the massive pile (20) of books I may or may not have ordered online from the library. And I may or may not have forgotten that they send them as they come in and not just hold a couple at a time so you'll have adequate time to read what you have. Sadly, I have to send some back after scanning the first two chapters and deciding that they are not worthy of my time at the present moment. I probably would not have this problem if not for my Padre bringing home books like The Appeal (when he knows I'm a die-hard Grisham fan) and other assortments of books from the auction he and Ma Dukes regularly attend. Seriously? The Appeal is still in hardback and is close to $25-$30 in stores and they got it for $2. Two Bucks!! This has thus interrupted my library time. Those books need love too. I just hope I don't lose any in the move!

The Blah Blog and Phrases from the South

Internets, I apologize for my recent lack of blogging. I've been in a bit of a funk lately and while I have been enjoying reading all of you, I have not wanted to spread my funkiness. That being said, this post is going to be all over the place. I have all these thoughts running around and I just know you want me to share. I will oblige you. Please be warned that all my years of English, Literature, and Grammar training are going out the window on this one.

This weekend I got a tick bite. Two tick bites actually and I pulled both ticks off with a pair of tweezers. After the fact, I found out that you're not supposed to do that. Well, pardon me, but I just get the heebie jeebies when something is crawling on my body and sinking it's teeth into my flesh. The HEEBIE JEEBIES! Monday morning I wake up and there are five (5!) bites on my leg and lo and behold the smallest one (the one I pulled off with the tweezers) looks infected. Now my parental units are freaking out at the prospect that I might have Lyme Disease. So I have made the proper doctor's appointment and I ask you to please pray to the god of outdoorsiness that I don't die of Lyme Disease that came from a tick that was no bigger than the head of a pin. HEEBIE JEEBIES!

I would like each of you to telepathically send me some energy. Please. Zap it from your kids (oh, you know you wish you could) and send to me like yesterday. I am D R A G G I N G. I have NO motivation. I have NO energy. I DO want to sleep alot. And eat. Yes, eat ALOT. But not much else. I just feel so BLAH. I do, however, have a pretty little bottle of Prozac. But, I just keep debating if I should partake. I mean, it might be just this stupid tick bite. On the other hand... I do so hate still living with the mother-in-law and knowing that we only have a week till we move out only makes it worse. I tell you internets, it can not come SOON ENOUGH. I could get into a story about some gravy and some Concord grape jelly, but really I've already hashed this out with my dad and it does sound pretty pathetic. Even for me. Let's just say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and leave it at that. I want to move, like yesterday.

I'm skipping Weight Watchers until after all this moving business is done. Go ahead stone me now. Okay. My heart's not in it right now and like my Aunt-in-law (who I LURVE) says, "You have to get your mind right." So true, so true. My mind is on moving and not strangling certain folks before I do so. The WW thing is also sort of depressing because I've only lost .6 of a pound and even though AndreAnna has told me "It's still a loss!", I'm not feeling very loser-like. I'm feeling very fat-like and very hungry. So a couple of days of self-destructive behavior later (and some really good mexican food) I blew a few days of dieting all to hell. Or, my favorite southern saying, "It all went to hell in a handbasket." Or, "I ate that quesadilla like it was my job." I do love being from the South.

So, enough wallowing. Be sure to shower me with compliments er, I mean comments, because I need some lurve like yesterday. (And yes I am aware of how many times I've said "like yesterday." I warned you that all my schoolin' was goin' out the window. But mainly, it's for shits and giggles.) I'll leave you with more Phrases from the South. Enjoy!

• Purty as a speckled puppy in a little red wagon. This is VERY pretty y'all.
• Hotter than a whore in church. Our weather in the South is a bit humid, so this is HAWTE.
• Cold as a witch's tit. or Cold as balls. Either way, it's cold.
• Damn it all to hell. It's been a bad day.
• What in the Sam Hell... What the bejeezus is going on??
• Where you at? We don't simply phone and ask, "Honey, where are you?" This takes less time.
• I'll be all over her like stink on shit. I think this one is self-explanatory.
• It's on like Donkey Kong. Somethin' is about to go down.
• You already know that Lunch is Dinner and Dinner is Supper.
• Contrary to belief, every beverage is not a Coke or a Co' Cola. We southerners do NOT say "Pop". We say, "Can you hand me a drank? or Can you hand me a coldbeer? Not a beer, or a cold one. A Coldbeer. One word, and string out the cold. Cooolldbeer.
• "I can smell it. A drunk front's blowin' in." We is getting drunk tonight, y'all, off some coldbeer.
• Down here, we don't talk about nobody's mama or kin. You can get a whoopin' like that.
• We give directions by community landmarks, not road names.
• We have to give our family history when we meet someone. "You kinned to the So&So's from Backwards Creek?"
• We lurve grits. Don't ask what they are, just eat'em.
• We only eat red hot dogs. Also referred to as "Carolina Packers" "Brightleafs" or "Red'n's"
• Like Kenny (Chesney) said, "We learned in Sunday school who made the sun shine through. I knew who made the moonshine too..." And his name was Percy Flowers.
• We girls like to dress up, but we also like playin' in the mud. The muddier, the better.
• Famous last words, "Hey y'all! Watch 'is!"

My Obession with The Notebook

My "obsession" with Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook" began about 6 years ago. Hubbs and I were "dating," and I was reading the book the summer we met. I can't even begin to describe the range of emotions I went through upon finishing that glorious novel. I remember sitting in Hubbs' living room crying for everything I was worth. And I didn't even care that he was watching me in awe. I was bold for making myself so vulnerable. I just sat and cried. He, never uttering a word, waited patiently for me to regain my composure and just held me in his arms. We were 20 years old. Flash forward about two years. I will spare you the details that encompasses those years, as they are filled with heartache and joy and I have just finished reading NS's "The Choice." I have already cried quietly to myself, like I do after reading every novel of his, and recounting those memories will only drudge up even more tears. So many that I might short out the keyboard. So, another day I will regale you with the story of us. Ahem. Like I was saying, flash forward two years and the movie, "The Notebook," came out. I was engaged to someone new, who was quite a bit older. I professed many times that I HAD to see this movie. Sitting at a bar in my college town, I told X the story of The Notebook. As he sat there on a bar stool sipping his beer, he didn't get it. He just didn't get it. In the time it took me to explain it to him, he'd already dismissed it. Written it off as just another chick flick. I can still picture us sitting there in that bar surrounded by college kids, noisy and loud, me explaining and he with that look on his face. You know. The one that says, you silly girl. Flash forward about 3 months later. This movie would not leave me alone. It was almost as if I was drawn to it. By then, it was on DVD and I had dumped X. Hubbs resumed his rightful place beside me, as we professed our love for each other. We went right out to Blockbuster and rented it. Came home snuggled on the couch, settling in to watch it. As soon as it was over, I bawled like a baby (still do), and just like that night in his living room he wrapped his arms around me and waited patiently for me regain my thoughts. He was my Noah. I was his Allie. It was then that I revealed to him that that summer in his living room when he held me at my most vulnerable moment, I was reading that same book. And you know what? He got it. He understood. I knew then that he was it. And really, it wasn't that he got some movie. He got me. He got that I knew things happen for a reason. I made him a believer that night. That novel, that movie brought us together and took us apart. And in the end, brought us back together again. For my birthday that year, my parents bought me my own copy of the movie, quite possibly the best present ever. Since then, I can't even tell you how many times I have watched this move. Our movie. Every time I watch it I cry. For the longest time I wouldn't watch it with anyone other than Hubbs and only Hubbs. I didn't want to ruin it. Every so often (2 or 3 months), we make time to sit down and watch our movie. No one else. Just us. It gets better every time we watch it.

When is enough, enough?

For all you internets with youngin's out there, I ask you: When do you stop doing for your chil'rens? When do they get to live their life the way they want? When do the mom's stop trying to take over and run the show? I'm almost 25 and I want to know when my mom is going to hand over the reins and start letting me call my own shots without questioning my judgement and fighting me on every minute detail of my life. I mean, really? I'm sick of it. I'm not 12. I don't have trust issues with my parents. Yes, I have made some bad decisions, but haven't we all? Isn't the purpose of mistakes, to learn from them? And really? I have. It's been a slow and painful process, but oh, how I've learned. So when do I get to be "the good girl" again? When can I be left to my own devices? I'm independent. If I need help, I'll ask. But when will you quit chomping at the bit to help, and then throw numerous guilt trips on me until I cave? Because it's really gettin' old. This is why I don't come over so much. This is why I don't call. I don't need lectures, I don't need your help, I don't need to be babied. I need space to live my own life without feeling smothered by you. Can you do that? Can I tell you that without hurting your feelings?? Can you be my friend now, and not my mother? I think my "need to be mothered" days are over. I still need you, yes. I don't need you 24/7, and I know that's hard for you to understand seeing as how I'm your only kid. But really, it's so much more wonderful for the both of us when you stand behind me and back my decisions whether you think they're right or not. Can you just believe in me? Can you just be proud of me for once? Can you just let me be?

As you were..

Because the last few posts have been a tad bit bitchy whiny, I thought it best to move on to more happier, funnier and wittier things. So I'm stealing this Meme from the BadgerGirl...

1. What is your occupation? Officially? Accounts Payable/Receivable. Unofficially? Caretaker, accountant, cleaning crew, dog trainer, husband feeder.
2. What color are your socks right now? Pink and white striped
3. What are you listening to right now? Blondie
4. What is the last thing you ate? handfuls of AppleJacks cereal
5. Can you drive stick shift? Does taking 30 minutes to get into/out of first gear count?
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? pink
7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Hubbs
8. What’s your favorite yoga pose? the plank
9. How old are you today? 24
10. Favorite drink? Coke, Tom Collins, Midori Sours, Miller Lite, Chocolate milk on ice, Mocha lattes, apple juice, lemonade, AppleCherryBerry juice.. i love beverages.
11. What is your favorite sport to watch? Red Sox baseball or Carolina basketball
12. Have you ever dyed your hair? I dyed highlighted my hair "Rockstar Red" one time. Yeah..It came out "Rockstar Pink". I loved my pink hair!
13. Pets? One.
14. Favorite cake? German chocolate cake or Pineapple cake.
15. Last movie you saw? The Break-up.
16. Favorite day of the year? Thanksgiving... and my birthday.
17. How do you vent anger? Write, throw things, talk about it, yell, slam doors, yell loudly, break things, cry.. you know, the normal stuff.
18. What was your favorite toy as a child? bear
19. Autumn or spring? I like 'em both
20. Hugs or kisses? both
21. Cherry or blueberry? cherry
22. Living arrangements? I live with my husband and our dog in my mother-in-law's house along with her other worthless son who comes by once in a while to shower or raid the pantry. But at the end of this month, we're MOVING!
23. Last time you cried? Last week.
24. What is on the floor of your closet? What isn't on the floor of my closet?
25. Who is the friend you’ve had the longest? Jenny and Steph.
26. Favorite smell? My husband fresh out of the shower, freshly dryed clothes, ivory soap.
27. Who or what inspires you? my friends and family inspire me daily.
28. What are you afraid of? Nothing... I try to be fearless.
29. Hamburgers? From where?
30. Favorite car? I like my Betsy. (sunfire, blue)
31. Number of keys on your key ring? 9
32. How many years at your current job? 2 years
33. Favorite day of the week? Payday, of course!
34. How many countries have you lived in? Only the US, but I want to travel once we kick our hypothetical children out of the house, and I get my Mini Cooper.
35. Dream job? Being paid to read.


*As a little side note: To all of you who are observant, I changed the name of my blog from "Miss Informed" to "Make it Snappy!" so it would be a little more fitting of my personality. I'm impatient as hell. While "Miss Informed" was quite quirky, "Make it Snappy!" just fits better. So don't worry; it's still me in here!

Rants from the mail bag

Dear Asshat,

Here's a little piece of advice: When you back into someone's car don't be a Supreme Asshole and just leave. You know, like YOU did. I know that you are a CableTV customer and you probably missed their driveway, and so, you, like every other moron who can't read, pulled into Employment Palace's parking lot to turn around. Clearly, for all you illiterate folks, we have signs stating that "Parking is for Employment Palace Customers Only!." However, today while turning around, you backed into MY car and didn't even have the common courtesy to pop in and say, "Hey, I backed into this blue car, and just wanted to let someone know." Now I have a big ass dent in my bumper and paint damage. I know you either felt the hit or heard the crunch, so why you didn't stop is beyond me. Thank you, for like ruining my afternoon. I really appreciate it. It's people like you that makes me wish insurance laws and policies were suspended for just one day so I could drive around in an old jalopy and bust some people open. Please be sure to understand that should you decide to show your face (which I highly doubt) back at this establishment again, I will have you charged with fleeing the scene of an accident. Thanks for being such a total douchebag.

Best,
Snappy

Moving!

The thing I hate most about moving is.. Moving! Most of our stuff is already packed up in storage, but we still have to pack up our bedroom crap at the mother-in-law's house. This task will, of course, be left up to me. And that's fine. At least I don't have to pack up.. THE WHOLE HOUSE, like I did the last time. So, you see, it's not quite so bad. Me, being the procrastinator that I am, is trying to get a head-start on this thing before the night before we move. Because? That would be so typical of myself, and I'm trying to make some changes, yo. So, yes indeedy, we are flyin' the coop. Moving into a 3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath home with a two car garage, a wood burning fire place, a DISHWASHER (WOO HOO), deck and nice backyard. This means that we have ample space all to OURSELVES where no one will steal our food or liquor, use our bath products or toilet paper, and I'll go back to only cleaning up after me, Hubbs, and Pookie. Ahhh.. yes. Life is good. For you nice readers, here is a list of things I look forward to in the coming weeks. Enjoy!

• Being able to buy food without having to come home and "assess the damage" of what has been eaten/stolen from the pantry by worthless brother-in-law and his druggie friends.
• Being able to dry clothes in the dryer without worrying if WBIL has stolen our brand-new towels or half-assed let them dry, only to throw them on MIL's bed still wet. That means they have to be washed. Again.
• Not worrying that WBIL is using our shampoo/bodywash/toothpaste/razor(I know!). And not having to take EVERYTHING out of the bathroom EVERY morning after pre-work showers.
• Not having to hoarde food in our room like chipmunks, for fear that WBIL will eat every morsel.
• Not having to pick up after 4 adult humans and one to three canines (depending on the day).
• Not being MIL's hand-maiden.
• Being able to walk around in my underwear, if I so choose.
• Being close to Ma Dukes.
• Getting my husband out of the nasty environment that is labeled "Family". Mainly, his.
• Having our own place!
• Doing exactly what we want!!

I'm So Excited. And I Just Can't Hide It!

After living with my mother-in-law for the past 10 months, Hubbs and I have found a place to stay. AND.. we get to keep Scout! We found a house to rent that is right around the corner from my parents. It's a 3 BR, 1 1/2 BA with a 2 car garage and a decent-sized yard. I can't explain the relief that I feel right now! We'll be moving around the first of May and it can't get here fast enough! This was just a quick post. The deets for my peeps will come Monday when I have enough time to elaborate on my excitedness. And, because I know you think I've forgotten you.. Lindz, Maggie and Flutterbyshutter.. I am like the queen of procrastinators. I haven't forgotten your goodies!! The packages are all put together and ready to send out, like yesterday. Now I just have to get my lazy ass to the Post Office. They'll arrive soon, I promise! Have a fantabulous weekend everyone!

... And then, it was all kind of sad.

I went to my first Weight Watchers meeting last night. There were lots of people there; mostly women. Mostly women in scrubs. And then, older women. There were 2 menfolk. I felt a bit sad as I walked through the door. I thought to myself, "I am PAYING to lose weight. Someone should be PAYING me for every pound I shed. Why do I have the urge to cry!?!?" Well, the answer to that, I found when I got home. PMS, you ruthless bitch, go away. You make me all weepy and crybaby-ish, and then I'm all irate and pissy, and then I'm all rainbows and lollipops. WTF? I really didn't need this on the day I start "Living, not dieting." Now, I will surely fall head first off the wagon into a chocolate patch and gorge myself silly with anything that is within reach. I ate a modest dinner last night and today, though all I can think about is food, I'm HUNGRY. I've had Nabs,water, Sugar Free Jello, water, chili, a small caesar salad, water and grapes. But I can't stop thinking about those Reese's Eggs I've got stashed in the office freezer. Or the handfuls of cereal I want to shovel in. Or the Coke I need to drink before I slap the taste out of some asshat's mouth. I get 23 points a day. That's basically 7 points per meal with 2 freebies. In my Carrie Bradshaw moment of despair, I have to wonder.. Am I gonna make it? Am I going to be able to force myself to do this and lose 2 lbs. a week so that by June I can actually wear a bathing suit on vacation? It's all so sad. I knew some (okay, all) of the things I eat aren't healthy-ish, but I never knew their point count was so high. This makes me sad. I can't eat fried anything, just about. Or slather gravy all over my plate. Good-bye huge soft rolls for dinner. So long greasy hamburgers and hot dogs. It's just not FAIR! I wanted to run home after the meeting and indulge in a "Last Supper", but I was too afraid. I was scared that I would be able to tell it at the next meeting. Please reassure me that I am not going to starve forever. As a soon to be former fat girl, I really hope it's worth giving up the gravy, yo.

Because Everyone Loves a Cute Puppy Picture..

And because it's Furry Friday! My life is so boring and unboring right now, I don't know where to start. I've decided (FINALLY) to get on with it and am promptly joining the ranks of Weight Watchers on Monday. My Pa (yes, we say Pa around these parts) tried to eat his way through North Carolina after he retired and joined the WW a little while back. I've decided to surprise him on Monday at the meeting and maybe we can support each other. He's already lost 14 lbs. ! *Applause* I hope I can find the will power WAAAAY down deep inside to stick with this. I'm even gonna force myself to pay by the week instead of getting that Monthly Pass. I reason that if I get the MP, I'm less likely to go. I also don't want to do ANY kind of exercise, but *sigh*, I know that I will probably have to get off my arse at some point. In other news, I started going to the tanning bed because if I can't BE thin, I can LOOK thin. It's all an illusion. While Hubbs has been fixing his truck, I've been scouring the Tri-City area looking for a new residence. So far? No luck. Now, I lurve my Pookie, but most places are NO PETS! INSIDE OR OUT! But y'all? We've been living with my mother-in-law (bless her little empty heart) for the past 9 months and if I don't get outta that piece soon, I will explode! So, in short, I love you Pookie, but I love my sanity even more. If you are the only thing that stands between us and a new place, I'm soooo sorry bud. I NEED to get out of the H.H.O.D. (hell hole of drama). And also, I need to be able to wake up and go to work without worrying all day long that the brother-in-law from hell isn't going to keep stealing from us EVERY SINGLE DAY. And, I need to be able to come home from work and not have to give myself a pep talk so that I actually WILL be able to go home without being SuperBitch to my loving husband. Because? My blood pressure and stress levels are so far off the charts, you'd need a map to find them. Anyway.. Sorry to go off on a tangent like that.. Whew! Back to more random things. So, I got my hair did last weekend, and it looks FAB-U-LOUS! Shorter and Blonder. Just the way I like it. I also got some more contacts (YAY!). And Reese eggs. Nothing says Easter like chocolate. If you mess with the Eggs, you die. That's all I'm sayin'. Here's hoping we have an uneventful weekend so that I can curl up with the Pook and watch "The Nanny Diaries", turn in my library books before I owe them a fortune in late fees, and maybe even get to go to Target for some goodies.

Snarkiness Ensues..

Okay, because I am a sucker for instant gratification and let's face it, I have no patience to sit and let this thing hash out any longer, I'm going to give you the last two answers. First of all, let me say that you are all (all 3 of you!) are darn good guessers. Maggie, we DO have the same movie tastes! And if you were in my zip code honey, I'd invite you over for movie night complete with booze and popcorn. Anyway, here you go:



1. Cocktail.. I love this movie! When I first saw it I thought, "Now why can't I twirl vodka bottles like that?!"

2. Talledaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.. I am such a sucker for Will Ferrell and his antics.

3. The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.. So touching and yet made me wish I lived in Louisana, just simply for the culture.

4. Blow.. Derek Forreal? Are you Pee Wee Herman for real?

5. Pure Country.. Love me some George Strait! And the song! Oh! The Song!

6. Dirty Dancing.. One of Hubbs favorite movies. Because Nobody puts Baby in a corner!

7. The Devil Wears Prada.. How I love New York and it's fashionistas.

8. The Notebook.. Seriously? Tears. Everytime.

9. Knocked Up.. Gives me a glimpse into what my pregnancy will be like. Minus the weed.

10. My Best Friend's Wedding.. Oh, my first "OMG I love this movie!" movie. The first of many sappy romances I would learn to appreciate.

Bonus Round: The Girl Next Door.. Because the juice WAS worth the squeeze.



Now, if Hateful Bitch, Lindz, and Flutterbyshutter will send their mailing addresses to SnappyblogsATgmailDOTcom, I'll send you a nice little surprise for playing along! I mean, somebody's gotta bribe these people to keep coming back, right?

Monday Movie Meme

Because I just don't listen unless I write things down, and because I can't find the "real" directions to this cool little thing, I'm just gonna wing it. After making a couple of guesses on a few of my favorite blogs, I'm attempting to do my own. So, don't cheat by going to that real popular movie look-up website (IDB? IMD?, yeah, that one) or Google, or any other "cheat" site. Make an educated guess. You know, like a hypothesis. While you all are guessing, I'm gonna try my damnedest to figure out how to do that cool little strike-through font that doesn't seem to work for me, and the hyperlink thingy that I also can't seem to get working on here, but works plenty fine on my other web-ventures. So, without further ado..

1. "Coughlin's law: never tell tales about a woman. No matter how far away she is, she'll always hear you. " Cocktail (I love all the early Tom Cruise movies! The new ones? Not so much)

2. I'm all jacked up on Mt. Dew! I'll come at you like a spider-monkey! " Talledaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby

3. "There's not a goddamn breeze in the entire state of Louisiana." The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

4. "The official toxicity limit for humans is between one and one and half grams of cocaine depending on body weight. I was averaging five grams a day, maybe more. I snorted ten grams in ten minutes once. I guess I had a high tolerance." Blow

5. "Me? I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you. " Dirty Dancing

6. "Well, sometimes the tree grows too fast and the roots don't develop. And sometimes you have to chop off the top of that tree to let the roots catch up. "

7. "A million girls would kill for this job. " The Devil Wears Prada

8. "The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you forever."

9. "Well. I think a stork, he umm, he drops it down and then, and then, a hole goes in your body and there's blood everywhere, coming out of your head and then you push your belly button and then your butt falls off and then you hold your butt and you have to dig and you find the little baby." Knocked Up

10. "He's got you on a pedestal and me in his arms." My Best Friend's Wedding

Bonus Round: "Because in your heart you know, that the juice is worth the squeeze. That's what moral fiber's all about." The Girl Next Door (Such a COOOL movie!)

Have fun guessing!

**Edited to Add.. So far, Hateful Bitch and Lindz are kicking your butts!!
***Edited to Add. Again... Come ON!! I know there are some saps out there just like me, for # 8!! And, did anyone notice that I completely deleted number 6 while trying to figure out that strike-through thingy??

Just a quickie!

Well, I have some good news! The Pink Eye? It be gone, yo. Not much going on around these here parts except some GUSTY wind. It almost blew my poor Pookie over this mornin' while he was trying to take a whiz, bless his heart. I get tomorrow off work (thank you Employment Palace!) and Saturday I get my hair did. Usually I only get my hair cut once a year. But dammnit, I want a good haircut! So I signed myself up to get it done on Saturday. A full cut and color. It's probably gonna cost me an arm and a leg, but I hope it's worth it! A girls' got to have good hair, you know. Next on the list (please forgive me) is joining Weight Watchers. I know. I'm thinking the same thing. Moving on.. After that, looking (and I mean really looking) for a place to live. Currently, Hubbs and I are living with the Mother In Law. But seriously? That is a whole 'nother issue, and I could quite possibly start a new blog site just on that. It's so Springer-like; it's pathetic. Anywho. Also, I have a wonderful attorney who is getting me out of my speeding ticket at like, half the price. Because paying $245? Is SOO much better than paying $170 and having 2 or 3 points on my license/insurance. Since this weekend will be a long weekend, I plan on takin' it easy. Bless my little heart y'all, I deserve it! Now I'm off to pay the cell bill so our main lines of communication won't be severed in case I'm disturbed during my easiness and have to strangle someone. Happy Easter Y'all!

To My Wonderful Husband on His Birthday

Today is your birthday! The big 2-5! We are knockin' on 30's door, yes we are! HAHAHA! But seriously, on a more lighter note.. I just wanted you to know that I love you sooo much. You are by far the best thing that has ever happened in my life. We are so lucky to have found each other not once, but twice. After laying eyes on you the very first time I knew you were the one for me. Even after we sort of lost each other and I had to tell my heart, as well as my head, that it was truly over, I never stopped believing. And although I lied to myself, I never stopped loving either. I think what we have is very special. You are my partner and my best friend. You are my first and only true love. You are my biggest fan and my greatest challenge. I don't have to be your whole life; just your favorite part. You make me strong and yet you are my biggest weakness. I love the person I have become, because of you. I love every part of you and all your little quirks that sometimes drive me crazy. I wouldn't change a thing about you, except that I wish I had met you sooner. You have made my life complete in so many ways. Even though we may get on each other's nerves and get the best of each other once in a while, I am so proud to call you my husband, and even more honored that you call me your wife. We said it wouldn't be easy, but it's been one hell of a ride so far. I look forward to spending the rest of my days with you. I hope you have a wonderful birthday!! I love you!

Let me tell you about MY last couple of days...

Karma must really hate me right now. I've had the worst last couple of days ever. Thursday, I left work early due to a sinus infection. After trying to sleep it off (and a few OTC drugs), I woke up 3 hours later in a cold sweat no better off than I was. So, I went to urgent care which cost me $109, but was given some free drugs, because once again, I do not have insurance. Friday, I woke up feeling WAAAY better and went to work. I noticed that my left contact wasn't lubricating properly, and after much observation and recollection, it was decided that my eye had not made a tear all day. I thought it must be the contact, but was wondering about the sensitivity to light. After driving home with my sunglasses home that night, I pryed my contact off my eye only to awake the next morning with a brand new discovery. I had Pink Eye! Saturday was the day of Hubbs' surprise birthday lunch and I didn't want to show up with all the redness, so I headed to the local WalGreens for some relief. I drove into town with one eye open and get pulled over by the cops. The Po Po. I had only been awake for an hour and a half, y'all, and I had pink eye and a speeding ticket! 45 in a 25. The young punk actually even asked me to pick my cigarette up off the ground. I didn't want to blow smoke in his face, so I threw it out. Then he asked me to get out and pick it up. I looked at him and said, "Are you serious?" Because apparently, ciggy butts out the window= littering. Let's recap, shall we?
1. Sinus infection that warrants a visit to the Urgent Care
2. Pink Eye
3. Speeding ticket

That's what I've been up to lately, hope your last few days have been a lot better!

SO Totally Random

Can I just say that I Hate! going to the post office for anything other than to check my box? Yesterday, I took off work early to go pick up a certified letter. I rushed to get there and surprise, surprise, everybody and their brother was in line for something or another. Here's a pop-quiz for ya: Which of the following made me more annoyed by the minute? Was it the lady in line talking so loud on her cell phone that people from 3 counties away could hear her? Was it the lady in front of me who was engaged in cooing and baby talk to an infant in front of her ("She's so CUTESY WOOSTY YES SHE IS!".. *gag*)? Or, was it the fact that none of the postal workers were in a great hurry? If you answered "D", all of the above, then you'd be correct!

For all parties concerned (thanks!), I still have not gone to the doctor yet. It's just been a small matter of this tiny thing called insurance, of which I don't have any at this time. And actually, I think I just may be a hypochondriac, because I have not experienced any symptoms as of late. Also? I don't need to go pay a copay of $30 to hear my doctor say, "Here, I wrote it down for you. Go look it up on WebMd.", which she so totally does! It's like, "Here's what's ailin' ya, go do your own research 'cause you're obviously not satisfied with the answer I've given ya, and at least if I write it down you'll search it correctly instead of callin' back tomorrow." She's SOO right! So as soon as I get me some of that there new fangled insurance, I'll be happily on my way to get a few things checked out. Namely, my ears. I get MEGA sinus headaches when the weather starts getting funky (hot to cold, cold to hot) and my ears, they be hurtin'. I feel like they're stopped up and just plain achy. Now, I will admit, I am a complete 'shwa (as in Poo-shwa, code for a not so nice word of a lady's anatomy, and being from the south, honey I just don't use that word along with the C-bomb) when it comes to my ears. If my ears hurt enough for me to lose sleep, guess what? You're gonna lose sleep too, because I'm gonna be all whiny and cryin' if it comes to that. And guess what else? Someone {*cough* Hubbs} is gonna have to rub my hair until I go to sleep, if you ever intend on sleeping, that is. And also, I accidently on purpose stuck a bobby pin in my right ear when I was in college to get some wax out and to scratch the inside of my ear, and that caused me to rupture my ear drum, which hurt like a real mutha. I incurred a slight loss of hearing due to that incident. Oh, but I have so many intelligent stories I could tell...

Second order of doctor business is to get my yearly physical out of the way. Because, really? Unless you're Hubbs, I don't really want you down there. And also, when you are down there, it makes me really uncomfortable when you try to strike up a conversation. That is not a time in which you need to talk to me. Plus, I need some birth control pills. I have not been on birth control in almost 4 years, and next year we're planning on tryin' for a little one. Sounds kinda dumb, huh? Well, unless my monthly friend improves dramatically, I'm gonna be all about the pill.

So, now all that doctor business is all wrapped up, on to more amusing things. Namely, my Hubbs. I'll leave you with some of his most hilarious quips!

*Don't trust anything that bleeds for 7 days and lives. (passed on by his alcoholic father)
*I'm gonna get you a bumper sticker that says "My other car is a broom"
*Look at the shitter on that critter.
*I am a sexy beast. I am Man-tastic.
*(His explanation for when he's sick, my husband the mechanic says..) "Man, I was up all night. I think I blew a rear main seal.

Bless his little heart, y'all. No wonder I married him.

I {usually} Heart Target

I usually love love love Target. Today? Not so much. I went on my lunch break to the Preppy Target around the corner from the Employment Palace because Hubbs and I went to the one in Regular Joeville yesterday to get birthday cards for both our Madre's and I suckered him into getting some new jeans. Because? All of his could be denominational with all the holes. After he tried them on, he was pretty much tiffed. He thought it was going to be a quick "in and out" trip. HAHAHAHA! Yeah, right. It turned out to be a shorter-than-I-would-have-liked trip, thus the lunch time mad dash to the Preppy one. I got there, scoped out the women's section and took 8 items to the dressing room. NONE OF THEM FITTED ME RIGHT. NONE. I really liked those $4 tee shirts and that cutesy skirt. Dammit. I found a fabulous sail boat bikini to try on. Get your harpoons out! Can we say "beached whale" or "marooned boat"?? I had a hard time concentrating on it's cuteness when all I could see was a ripple of back fat and a pouchy stomach that looked like a swollen Ethiopian child's. And can we mention my GINORMOUS thighs and the rest of my pastey white body? Uh.. YUCK. The first order of business is to find a tanning bed, stat. Everyone knows the darker you are, the thinner you look. Second order of business? Finding me a sugar daddy that can afford me some lipo. It's not a pretty sight y'all. When I met Hubbs, I was a confident, perky size 4. Now, 4 years later, I'm a pissy size 12/14. I like Jen Lancaster's advice: "Weight Watchers can kiss the fattest part of my ass." I laughed hysterically. Until I realized that it may take Weight Watchers to get some of the ass off me. Don't get me wrong.. I am LOVIN' my boo-taay. But the rest of me has GOT. TO. GO. I can deal with the stomach. I can't deal with the Mack Truck thighs and the swishing noise that comes with it. Eww. Like Hateful Bitch (whose blog name I LOVE!), I want to drop some poundage without changing my diet. Me? I love veggies, but I'm not big on fruit. I'm a meat and taters girl, through and through. I have an office job with moderate movement throughout the day (to my smoke breaks.. HA!) but virtually no exercise when I get home, except cleaning and taking the dog out to whiz. I'm thinking of taking the devil dog to the new walking trail down by the casa and taking my daily frustrations out on it. We'll see how long that lasts. I can always try again tomorrow as far as the diet goes. Today's Bojangle's lunch and my pizza dinner just can't wait.

I'm no Rachel Ray, but..

In lieu of a Furry Friday post (well, crapola, I guess this does count as a Furry Friday. see what happens when you bleed for a week straight??), I have a WTF? Friday post.

I was making brownies last night because I'm thriving on chocolate right now, and I noticed that the ingredients on the box looked a little off. You were supposed to add 3 Tablespoons of water, 2 Eggs, and 1/2 a cup of Vegetable Oil. I know. I thought the same thing. I checked the box like three times to make sure that it didn't say 1/3 cup of oil or something. But it didn't. It said 1/2 cup. And then the batter wasn't it's usual consistency. It was all doughy. Nonetheless, I poured it in my handy dandy baking dish and popped it in the oven. Yum-O. It took over an hour for my beloved chocolatey goodness to bake. So I ask you.. WTF? Has Betty Crocker finally flipped her lid? Was it a possible typo? Am I going to die after devouring the WHOLE pan of brownies?? I hope not. 'Cause I have some Breyer's ice cream at the Casa that is waiting to paired with some brownie awesomeness.

Because apparently, I'm all chatty..

I'm all bitchy today. I hate being a woman. I hate having a period and all the uncomfortableness and inconvienence that comes with it. The only thing that makes me not stab someone of the opposite sex, is the fact that I take pleasure in knowing that one day they'll have prostate issues. They {Hubbs} may laugh and poke fun now about the hormones-induced rages, crying jags, and utter rollercoaster of emotions I endure one week out of the month, but the joke's on you, kid. At least no one will be grabbing me by the balls at 50. So there! HA!

I, in my own defense, do not snore. As far as I'm concerned, I sleep very peacefully and soundless during the night. I do not sleep walk, nor do I talk in my sleep. The only exception is when I have had a lack of sleep, alot on my mind, or a long and stressful day. Dear Hubbs called me at work today and the conversation went a little bit like this:

Hubbs: Wow, you must have gotten alot of sleep last night.
Me: Why do you say that? (yes, I get all defensive when I'm on the rag...)
Hubbs: Because, you jumped right up this morning after the clock went off and just got going.
Me: Yeah... Okay.. I also had some pretty weird dreams last night.
Hubbs: Yeah, I know. {snicker, snicker}
Me: Huh?
Hubbs: You were talking in your sleep last night.
Me: Nuh Uh. No way.
Hubbs: Uh, yeah. You were. I rolled over to see what you were mumbling about and you looked at me and said, "Budlight or Heiniken?" {laughing}
Me: I see.
Hubbs: So I said, "Budlight, Thanks. Now go back to sleep." {full blown laughing}
Me: {Laughing hysterically}
Hubbs: You must have been bartending last night. Glad you weren't too tired.

Yeah, it's a good thing I wasn't too tired to sling them beers, honey. Glad I could quench your thirst.

Drivers Beware!

I hate not having internet access at home anymore because it means when I get a blog idea in my head, I have to write it down or try to remember it. My memory is baadd, y'all. As I was driving home yesterday, I realized how much I love and hate to drive at all. I have a pretty short commute from the casa to the employment palace. Only 20 to 30 minutes, depending on the day and the traffic to the Capital City. It just seems like only idiots drive my route to work, so I've decided to post some thoughts on the daily drive.

• On the 3 lane highway that I frequent, if you can not go AT LEAST the posted speed limit you need to reread your drivers handbook that states SLLLOOOWW people need to drive in the right hand lane, dummy.
• If I have to go around you because you are driving too slow in the FAST lane, I will be mad and I will politely cut you off when I get back around you. This is only to show you that your place is in another lane.
• I have road rage.
• I hate to be tailgated. If you decide that you are going to ride my ass even though there are two other lanes wide open, be warned that my brakes work VERY well. I will brake-check you. I will give you three chances to get off my ass. In warm weather I will even pop the sunroof and count them for you. I hope you have great insurance by the time I get to the third chance.
• If we are coming up to a stoplight/sign and you're tailgating me, I will short-stop you.
• I love to use my horn. They wouldn't have put them on cars if they weren't intended for use. I use mine on a daily basis. Also, watch for finger. Bad habits die hard.
• If you slam on breaks in front of me when traffic is just moving right along, just to scream at your kids, put on you lipstick, look at a map, whatever, you will see the finger, hear the horn and also hear a long string of obscenities. Be prepared. Extra points if I have to pass you.
• If you are lost, pull over until you can find your way again. It does not please me when I have to keep slamming on brakes behind you at every intersection. You will also hear the horn.
• If you want to get over in my lane, you better use your blinker. They didn't put signal lights on cars because they look all pretty and sparkly when you turn them on. It's not my fault, nor do I care if you miss your exit. If you'd have used your signal light, I'd have been more than happy to let you over.
• If you blow the horn at me, I will not take the Marlboro Light out of my hand before giving you the finger.
• I can talk and drive at the same time. I personally don't like to talk and drive. I like to drive and listen to the radio. But if YOU can't talk and drive, HANG UP before you side swipe someone.
• I try to drive a reasonable* speed, but if I am going 80 in a 55 and you are dead on me, pass me brotha. Cause I AIN'T MOVIN'. Flash your lights all you want. If you are not a cop or an ambulance, I'm not moving because you feel the need for speed.
• There is a thing called rain that is liquid precipitation that falls from the sky on occassion. When it does, don't be alarmed. You can still go the speed limit. (I mean, really? These AHoles act like they've never seen rain before and creeep down the highway.) God forbid it should snow**.

It really isn't that complicated, people. I love the feel of the open road on a warm day with the sunroof popped. Just drivin' along in my automobile. But I hate it that no one has the common sense God gave them to drive. It just ain't right.

*The way I was raised, reasonable went like this as far as overages of speed limits go: 5, you're fine, 10 you're mine. I try really hard to only go 5 mph over. I don't always succeed.

**This is a whole other story to tell, but if it snows around here, you'd think the world was gonna end.

Going all Green

Well, nothing much has been happening around here the past couple of days. Pretty boring stuff, actually. It's raining and the weather dude is calling for high winds, hail and possibly tornadoes. FUN! But seriously, I love thunderstorms. Always have. They're just really cool to watch, especially if you're out on the porch breathing in that rain smell. I can always tell when we're gonna get some showers. You can smell it in the air. And honestly? Right now, we need all the rain we can get. We're facing serious drought issues in my neck of the woods and unless somebody drops a flood on us, they're not gonna be clearing up any time soon. My dear friend, Steph, is doing her part with her miscellaneous water buckets for household use and her rain bucket. I guess I'm not much of a tree hugger because I'm still indulging in my 20 minute (okay, okay until all the hot water runs out) showers, I'm still using the dishwasher, still letting the tap run while I brush my teeth, still doing nothing personally to conserve water except I stopped buying bottled water. I have considered recycling all of our empty Mt. Dew and Coke cans. I've considered recycling all of my miscellaneous newspapers, magazines, catalogs, junk mail, etc. I consider. I consider alot of things, and while they all sound very good and well-intentioned and all environmentally conscious, I have to say I haven't gone through with a single one. There's lots of talk of using recaptured water. The only recaptured water in my house is when the dog jumps in the bathtub and trys to suck out any remaining droplets of water. Poor thing acts like he doesn't get a single drop to drink all day! And how can I deprive my poor, sweet (and yet so evil), cuddly Pookie?? How can you say no to this face?! I can't I tell you! I just can't! So anyway, we (and by "we", I mean everyone else in the tri-county area, apparently, but me) are trying to conserve. Reduce! Reuse! Recycle!

** In case you're wondering, (I know I'm all nosy like that) Scout's doggy t-shirt says "I Chase Tail"