If You Don't Have Anything Nice To Say...

Right now I have my fingers in one too many pots. I did it to myself, but that doesn't mean I like it. Because the poo may or may not hit the fan sometime soon, I need to focus on the positive lest I go all crazy white girl on somebody, yo.

• I am thankful that I am not in the hot mess that is Jon & Kate plus 8.
• I am glad that I have a dog who still loves me after being in his kennel for the better part of the day.
• I am stoked that I found $10 wrapped in an old receipt.
• I am with glee that I have a job interview Thursday with a SUPERB company and I hope I don't bomb it/jinx it.
• Thank god for Cinnabon.
• I am thankful for a roof over my head and food in my (slowly receeding) belly.
• I am glad we have a lottery. It gives me hope.
• I am thankful that I am afforded certain opportunities.
• I am grateful that Besty is still going after 8 years and 140,000 miles. Betsy, you ROCK!
• I give much props to the fact that "If He brings me to it, He'll bring me through it."
• I am thankful for the person who created "Woo Saah.."

Everything happens for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is right now.

When will you ever learn?

This is a rant. I'm going to jump on my little soapbox. If this is something you'd rather not hear, then I suggest you click elsewhere.


When are you stupid idiot party-goers ever gonna learn??
This past weekend a party was thrown. I won't name any names, but let's just say that these functions with this crowd always tend to end in drama and nine times out of ten somebody gets hurt. This shindig was no exception. One party-goer had been drinking (probably heavily as per usual), decided to leave, and ended up side-swiping a car on his journey away from the party. I look at our community online news today and discover that the person he side-swiped died and 4 more are injured. An innocent 18 year-old is dead. DEAD. Because you.. needed more beer? A booty call? More weed? A fucking kid is dead because you didn't have the good sense God gave you to understand that you can't drink and drive. Also on this notorious night, another drunk moron decided that he wasn't drunk enough and needed yet MORE alcohol, so he drove to the store and flipped his PT Cruiser into a ditch MULTIPLE times and almost broke his leg (sprain I later heard) and wanted to FLEE THE SCENE OF THE ACCIDENT! How do I know this if I wasn't there, you ask? I know this because my husband was the one this guy's friend called to help "pull him out of the ditch." My husband is the one who talked him out of fleeing the scene after he landed in somebody's front yard and they called the cops. Because my husband? WAS SOBER. You sorry pieces of shit have no regard for your own safety or that of others and I am DISGUSTED. I hate these "get-togethers" for the simple reason that people unnecessarily get injured. It could all be prevented if you just had a DD or someone you could/would call if you had a few too many. We've all been there, but apparently not all of us use good judgement. In my county alone this year there have already been 10 vehicle deaths. If you drink, please PLEASE don't drive. Don't exercise your stubborn idiotic behavior at the expense of an innocent person's life. Sadly, I know the person who killed that 18-year-old, and all I have to say is this: You are 26 fucking years old and you are a total douche bag to take away this boy's life and a son away from his mother. I hope they throw the book at your ass and make an example out of you so that your other weekend-alcoholic friends will hopefully learn from your mistake. As for me, I will come get you if you are too drunk to drive. I will take your keys. I will not watch you kill yourself or someone else because "we ran out of Jager bombs." For the party throwers, SHAME on YOU for letting these people leave in such sorry condition. In my opinion, you should share the punishment of these sorry individuals. You should be just as liable for not taking their keys. Why not? Bars are. I hope this wrong turn of events has opened your eyes as well. I'm not trying to be Debbie Downer and poo poo everyone's good time. I'm all for having a good time just not at the expense of someone else's life. This has been a Snappy Service Announcement. Thank you.

The first step is admitting you have a problem...

Supposedly in AA, the first step is admitting you have a problem. After that, you will be truly open to treatment. Well.. My name is ___. (Hi! ___!) And I am a cereal junkie. Wow. That feels better. Right now on top of my fridge are FIVE boxes of cereal: Cheerios, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, Honeycombs, Apple Jacks and Froot Loops. My husband doesn't even LIKE cereal unless it's Reese Puffs or Cap'n Crunch. We have no children. All 5 boxes are for ME! This is either seriously sad or....... Okay, so it's seriously sad. I remember growing up and not being able to get brand name cereal because it was too expensive, or trying to trick my mama into buying a certain cereal JUST for the prize. That NEVER worked. She was on to my evil cereal ways. Nowadays, they hardly ever put a prize in the box. What can I say? I love me some whole-wheat, sugar-doused goodness. It's good for breakfast. It's good for a snack. It's good for dinner when you're too lazy to make a "real" meal (Guilty). To me cereal is like waking up and deciding what you want to wear to work: The night before you might have been feelin' some Apple Jacks/a dress. But when you woke up, Froot Loops/a powersuit might have been more tastier/suitable. And if you only buy ONE box, you never get an option. Breakfast IS the most important meal of the day, yo.

Redeemed.

So, I told you guys how I was going to file a claim with Half.com if I didn't get my Carrie fix.. Well, I still didn't get my Carrie fix. I filed a claim. Then I sent an email to that douchebag who didn't send my book telling her I filed a claim. And you know what?? She refunded my money. So inspite of her flakiness on my borderline obsessiveness about Carrie and the girls, the douchebag actually had some decency. Who'd a thunk it? On the upside, I just ordered "Save Karyn" by Karyn Bosnak a couple of days ago and can't wait to get my little fingers on that. So there.

Bitchiness and Drama?? I'm THERE.

Hubbs and I and 2 of our closest friends trekked down to the beach this past weekend for Hubbs' birthday. It was cold and rainy and there were a surprising number of people there. At first I was a little tiffed because I couldn't find my Monopoly game to take with us. Then I forgot my Scrabble game, because we all enjoy a good drunk Scrabble session. I took a puzzle, a couple of books, my Nintendo DS and my Chaucer homework with me in case I got bored. But aside from a little bit of reading ("Dirty Girls On Top" by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, SOOO GOOD), I got hooked on my newest TV addiction... America's Next Top Model and The Bad Girls Club. Who knew? So much drama, so captivating. I'll conitue to watch these two rain or shine!

How-to

In a totally unrelated post, I'm thinking of either changing my blog name or moving my blog. Which is easier? Starting over or just renaming? What's in a name? How did you guys come up with your blog names? How do you guys get your blogs to look so pretty and delicious? Discuss.

For the Love of Sex and the City..

I love Half.com. I shop there, I sell there, I lurk there. I am also, like, IN LOVE with Sex and the City. I have searched many a Borders Books and Barnes & Noble for this glorious book by Candace Bushnell. But alas, they do not carry it and I am cheap so I turned to Half.com. On February 4th, I placed my order. I think it was supposed to be coming from somewhere up north like Boston or New Jersey. Today is March 6th. This glorious book has yet to grace my mailbox. In a moment of Carrie Bradshaw awe, I asked myself, Will it ever arrive? I contacted the seller who claims to have "Already sent you an email because you asked for it fast, so I sent it first class." I say, Bullshit. I NEVER emailed her, nor did I ever ask her to "send it fast." As impatient as I am, I understand that when things are mailed it takes a few days. My estimated arrival date was between Feb. 14 and Feb. 26. So I sent her a reply back calling her bluff telling her that if I don't recieve it by the end of the month I will file a claim and request a full refund. She responds by saying that I don't need to result to threats and that she'll be glad to refund my money if I don't recieve the book and all she's doing is trying to make the world a better place by giving it books. I didn't threaten her; I followed Half.com protocol. If she slacked and forgot to mail it, fine. I understand. I slack too. If she totally misplaced my order, fine. I understand. I forget things too. But BE HONEST ABOUT IT. Don't try to jerk me around. I'm giving her til the end of this month, then I'm filing a claim and hope to get my money back. It's not about my $4.72 or the book, it's about principle. What is the world coming to when you can't get your Carrie fix?

New things..

For starters, I'm back. It's been a long time and I know we have LOTS to catch up on. I've missed you all terribly. I've been on a blah-hiatus, and now I'm back, so let's get started. Shall we?

1. New year, New..Job?-- To kick off this spectacular new year, I was laid off from my job at the Employment Palace due to staff reductions and budget cuts. Boo.

2. I Has Resolutions?-- The Hubbs and I... QUIT SMOKING. TOGETHER. And it was touch and go there for a few days. Quite a scary event.

3. The One Last Try Challenge-- I have joined a gym. Again. No remarks from the peanut gallery, thankyouverymuch. I've hauled my fat patootie up to that God-forsaken torture chamber every night (except weekends, I mean, a girl's gotta have SOME fun, yo) for almost 3 weeks. In my next life, I hope I'm a skinny bi-atch.

4. College4Life-- I'm STILL in school. BOO.

5. Baby?-- After getting canned ONE WEEK before my waiting period for my supplemental maternity leave took effect, we've decided to put the baby making on the back burner until September. Hence, the one last try challenge. I would like to look decent in a bathing suit at least ONCE before I get as big as a house.

There's the update. Talk to you guys soon!

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!