Quirkalicious

The lovely Kyla tagged me. And it looks like a goodie!

Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell 6 unspectacular quirks about you.
4. Tag 6 fellow bloggers and link to them.
5. Leave a comment on the 6 bloggers you tagged letting them know they've been tagged.

[EDIT: I ain't gonna leave you a comment. Just do it if you read it, okay?! I don't have time for all this childish nonsense! ;) ...Ahem...but I do have time for a tag...]

Quirk numero uno:
For those of you who love me and know me and read my blog, you can probably gather that I am an animal lover/luster. Even my new friendly neighbors seem to just get that I will love you and rub you and pet you and cuddle with you. I’ve always luuuuurved me some furry feline hotness, but before I was pregnant, I didn’t particularly care for other animals. I didn’t loathe them with a fiery pash or anything, but I also didn’t want to smother them with loves and kisses, either. That all changed when my eggo became prego. Suddenly all the motherish hormones came out in me and I turned into a mama bear who loved anything that had fur and could move, as long as it didn’t have a realllly big weiner that hung around, like on a giant dog or anything. I remember I saw an email when I was only weeks pregnant, and it was a pic of a mousie that had gotten caught in a printer. It wasn’t dead or anything, just caught until someone came and rescued the lil bugger. Well, I saw that and cried and cried and was so sad for the mousie that was probably missing his mama – I couldn’t get over it. Well, the hormones never calmed down and I’m still a raging animal loveraholic. It’s such a burden, but I really do love it, for realsies. In fact, I will go veggie when I’m recovered and my treatment team doesn’t think I’m just doing it for ED reasons. It’s really become an ethical thing for me.

Quirk numero dos:
This is something that my mom actually encourages me to get therapy for: I feel bad for inanimate objects. For example, we have a lamp that has three light bulbs, but we usually only turn on one at a time. If there is a bulb that gets more action than the other two, then I feel bad for them because they can’t let their light shine, so I’ll turn off the one that’s been on for awhile and let another one have a turn. I also have a pillow that I sleep with every night, and her name is Hugger. Bran will tease me and throw her on the ground and I’ll be so sad that he hurt her. Or, if she falls off the bed during the night I snatch her up quickly so she can get warm under the covers again. Also, I have proof: you see this paper? I keep this chart at my desk, (locked in my desk of course so people don’t regularly see my weirdness) and every day, I mark the date with a colored pen that I use, so that I use all the colors before I start over. I found that without this system, the pink and lime green pens were getting used more than the others, and I started to feel bad for them. So this makes sure they all get a turn! Yay equality! And shutup. This isn’t that weird. Just don’t go insulting Hugger, okay? Let’s all stay calm!

Quirk numero tres:
I was an allergen-free girl/woman(eeewy) until I was at the ripe age of 19. Suddenly at the gym one morning, my lungs decided to wig out and have an asthma attack. I grew up with cats and a dog all my life, and never experienced allergies. Now, even though I have two kitty witty titties…they give me major allergies. My asthma is nearly uncontrollable, and I’m always whisked to the ER or an instacare allthefriggintime due to los allergens.
Also, my innards now reject dog hair and saliva as well. This used to be my pooch until he gave me giant hives everywhere that made me look like Big B was whipping me with his belt…they looked like giant welts everywhere and I didn’t like looking like I was a battered wife. So now my DDF Racher has lovingly adopted the Shepcat. This was me last night wearing my mask. Yes, I need to wear it in our new casa right now because there is so much dust everywhere from the construction, that’s like the sure fire way to make me stop breathing. Seriously, I’m such a delicate freak. What gives?! At least I didn’t have all these allergies in elementary school, I’d have been one of those weirdos that everybody made fun of. (Ooh, and if you look closely, you can see that I'm hugging Hugger. She's red and beautiful!)

Quirk numero quatro:
I cannot, under any circumstances, tolerate haunted houses. I’m such a pussy. I used to love the crap like that – horror movies and such – and now I turn into a giant, 5’11” baby. The last time I went to a haunted house I was a senior in high to the school. I gave Taylor, who was with me, scabs and bruises in the shape of my finger prints because I was literally so terrified. Big B still to this day wants to share this experience with me…and I tell him, “No, unless you really, truly, want to witness me shit my pants.” I’ll keep you posted.

Quirk numero cinco:
You know how people will say, “I’m so bad with names, but I never forget a face,” or something to that effect? Well, I am terrible with BOTH faces and names. Seriously. I lived in the neighborhood that I just moved out of for THREE years, and just now realized that my next door neighbor’s name was not actually Julie, but J___. And she left us hate letters on our car.
Long story.
Also, all old people look alike to me. Especially the male variety.

Quirk numero seis:
I luuuuve chapstick. On my lips. And on my nose. I try to keep the nose and lip sticks separate, but sometimes, when desperate, will rub the lip chapstick all over my nose, then put it on my lips anyway. What? It feels soooooo good! Shutup. If you had debilitating allergies, you would too, you judger!

I tag…

Sista Tawny
Kathy Squared
JB (can't link cuz she's set to private)
Sista Brookie (can't link cuz she's set to private)
Emily Robin Tweet Tweet
Alanalanalana
and
everybody else, of course!

Trunk or Treat

This year our church organized a trunk or treat.

With a homemade soup and dessert potluck beforehand, (I had my sissy's yummy sweet potato corn chowder) I came hungry and left happy. Afterward, all of the children, in Halloween costumes of course, went out in the parking lot where all the trunks were opened and decorated, and where everyone stood, giving away candy out of their trunk.

Hey Lil Cccccccccc...if at first you don't succeed, then

try, oh please try...

again! We got it! 3rd times the charm, my boy!

So, along with my sissy's Brooke and Amber...

And all their kids...

We came. We trunk or treated.

And, ulitmately, we triumphed. Because we got ONE smiling picture of my son in a costume.
And we had a really, really awesome time.

The Neighborhood Welcome Wagon

The new street I moved onto in my ‘hood is reallllly weird. So far, I have met the following neighbors:

Midget
Shorty
Megan
Oliver
Sassy
Princess

The first day we moved in, I was in the front yard watching Lil C play. Midget slowly walked up to me and plunked down on the grass beside me without even seeming to notice my existence. Well, the Comcast Cable dude was here saving me from the perils of No Cable, and every time he walked past me to get to his car for a tool or something, Midget would growl to let Cable Guy know that I was his. We fell in love right then and there. It’s been soooo intense every since.

Next I met Megan. She walked right up to me outside, rubbed my legs, then dramatically flopped on her back and begged for a belly rub. Because I cannot resist letting anybody down, even if they look feral and are about to rape or maul my face, I plunked down beside her and gave her some major rubbage. (That’s what he said.) A little while later I wandered into the house, and no fewer than a 10 minutes later, she was sitting in the middle of the kitchen, looking at me like she owned the freaking place. I still can’t figure out how she got in, btw. Good thing Bobert didn’t see her, or she’d have squashed all the life out of her then eaten her for breakfast.

Then there’s Princess. Princess is a black sweetie that was abandoned on some dude’s farm and I guess a neighbor felt sorry for her and adopted her. Yesterday I rescued her from Sassy, and she thanked me by, well, not saying thank you. It was excellent. I really felt like we share a connection.

Then there’s Sassy. Well, I call her Sassy. I don’t know what her name is, she wouldn't tell me, so I had to make do. I actually have no idea where she came from and am bewildered as to which house she lives in. Well, last night as Big B and Lil C and I were doing some yard work, out of nowhere she appears and stays in our yard for hours. She followed me around, and was always begging me for some lovin’. Also, she somehow got into our house a few times. I believe there is a secret door or something we have not yet discovered. It’s making me feel uncomfy.

Oliver is GIGANTIC and ORANGE and GAY. (3 points for you if you know where the quote’s from…JB, J??)

Shorty’s a bit jittery. Me no likey. I don’t want to share my Xanax.

I still as of yet am not sure if there are actual homo-sapiens living in the vicinity. I’ll keep you posted. Seriously, it’s insane. I’ve never lived or even been on a street where you can look out the window and see cats and dogs frolicking together like the lions and the lambs or whatever. I feel like I’m in the Garden of Eden. Well, if the Garden of Eden included dust and power tools and no plumbing and a house where the previous owners smoked Meth. If that’s not paradise, I don’t know what is.

In the meantime, I’ll wait for Midget or Megan to bring me over a plate of cookies and a fruit basket. I hear they’re the head of the welcoming committee.

Squatting

My bloody hell. What was I doing at 11 pm last night?
Oh, just peeing in a dark corner of my backyard by the shed.

I want my plumbing back NOW, dammit.

Moving Mania

OMG I missed you!!! It feels like it’s been FOR.EV.ER since I last blogged, and to see it’s been less than a week, WOW. I haven’t really checked my email in days either, and the last time that happened, I swear to you on my life I was, like, 11 years old. I have over 200 suckas in my inbox that are waaaaay too overwhelming to touch – and that’s not even counting work emails! Eeewy. I’ll get to it all anon, I’m sure.

So. We’ve moved. To our own little house on the prairie, which isn’t on a prairie and could hardly be deemed a house, so I’m not sure where that leaves me. The entire place is being renovated. NOT redecorated; don’t misunderstand me. RENOVATED. That’s, like, when walls are demolished. And there are large, intimidating power tools everywhere. And men listening to heavy metal. Our master suite isn’t going to be finished for 3 weeks – it takes first priority, even over our kitchen, which isn’t a kitchen since they took out all our cupboards and counters and sink and stove and microwave and dishwasher and need I go on? This is SO SAD. It’ll look amazing once it’s finished, but for now it be blowin’. Big B and Lil C and I are reduced to sharing two rooms that have all our immediately necessary belongings packed into about 100 square feet. The room Big B and I are in (which will eventually be C’s room) has our queen size bed, our TV and cable box, a dresser, a nightstand, a teensy weensy closet we BOTH share, all my makeup and hair necessities, 3 laundry baskets full of stuff which we think we need but have not quite yet figured out why, a garbage, a lamp, a drawer on the floor, and two scared kitties under the bed. And, so not joking: we have about 10 square feet in which to walk in the room.

Lil C shares a room with our desk and computers, the mini fridge, a gross rug that’ll have to do until we’re finished renovating, his crib, and his toy box. Oh, and he’s missing a wall. But I promise it’s getting put up today. (Do you put up walls? Do you glue them on? I’m not sure what the right terms are, here.)

Also, we have no heat. Or hot water. So, showering at the in-law’s has become an interesting endeavor, as has using space heaters. Fortunately sharing a bed with a large, hairy man, and usually our 2 year old that has an insane ability to not only kick at important body parts while sleeping but also at generating fiery body heat, AND two cats, who, with their combined weights, comes to nearly 40 lbs, for reals, don’t even need a heater. Sweating in my britches last night, no kidding.

Furnace Man is coming today, as is Gas Man, and I’m not sure if they’re the same, like a two for one package here, but all I know and care about is that we’ll have heat and hot water – oh, and totally hilarious: he came to the house yesterday when we weren’t home to scope out the situaish, and apparently he thought Bobbi was an abnormally large raccoon who popped out from the furnace and made him scream and throw his tools. Why do I love that my 30 pound poppet scared a grown man??! Also, Big B has sworn on our marriage that he will put on the new toilet seat today. Squatting has really built some good thigh muscles, but I be yearnin’ to sit. I’ll keep you posted. I also found it hilarious that it took us several days to make arrangements for important things like heat or whatever, but the day we moved in, the cable guy came and hooked me up with my cable and Tivo. I mean, I can live without practically every human luxury that we’ve all had become NECESSITIES like heat and microwaves and hot water – oh yes, I can live without all these things. But you try to make me miss my primetime television? I’ll put you down. Don’t mess with me. (Gossip Girls was so good last night!!! SO GLAD I was able to watch it!!! Yay! Go cable!!)

So, we all learned in 7th grade science class that the only three things that humans need to survive are
*Water and
*Food and
*A roof over your head

I have also recently realized that I need FOUR things to live, and, in order of importance, they are:
*Blogging and
*A roof over my head
*And water
*And food

And I kinda feel ashamed that blogging took a backseat this weekend! Please never let me leave you ever again, okay?!

On to one last bit of good news before I peace out:
My sweet little nephew, Jackson, was born on Friday the 24th. He and his mama are home safe and healthy now after quite a scare and traumatic birth for Baby and Mom both. Here are some sweet pics of my brother, B, and his wife and sweet little daughter Claire with brand new J. Congratulations, and so happy I now have a new nephew – that brings the total to 29 on my side and 3 (almost 4 in January) on Big B’s side…wow that makes me quite the aunt. Go fam!
My brotha with his new mini man
The poor sweetie had a hard time breathing at first. This pic makes me sad!

Ha ha this pic is so awesome! C wants to nurse like her mama. :)

Martha Stewart & Moving

This puny little pin cushion was really a thorn in my side today. What a contestant on Project Runway could make in ten minutes, I worked on this sucker for upward of 5 hours. My back hurts, my fingers have been poked with push pins, I swore and stopped loving my sewing machine for like 15 seconds while trying to learn to thread the machine...and I did it all for this: a really messy and uneven pin cushion. Move over, Martha Stewart. My pin cushion could kick your pin cushion's ass.

And yes, I feel compelled to tell you that I think I'm recovered. Forget 3 stints in treatment and years of therapy. All ya need is 6 hours to spare and a little sewing. I'm so domestic!


Oh, and FYIsies, I'm moving this weekend. So, I prob won't be around much over the next few days, but will try to touch base periodically when I want to get out of cleaning.

You know you love me, xo xo

I’m a Seamstress, Bitches!

Holy oh my moly talk about bi-polar! For how incredibly PISSED I was this morning, this afternoon I’m feeling great. And that is all entirely due to my dear dear husband. After I grumpily blogged this morning, I decided to take a quick break at work and head to the Walmart to comprar some treats and an energy drink to give me an insane high before I crashed a couple hours later. So, I perused the aisles, picked me up some reduced fat Wheat Thins, flavored tootsies (yum yum in my tum!) and a Red Bull, only to get to the register and find that my wallet wasn’t in my purse. Wtf, man? I got to my car and literally started doing this scream/cry/swear thing, (it was reaaaallly intense) and I called Big B, crying and moaning and generally letting him know that I was not a happy camper and that The World hated me. It felt as if I was getting karmically bitch slapped. And it stung.

About 30 minutes later, into my office walks Big B with my energy drink and treats, and a much B I G G E R surprise - A FREAKING SEWING MACHINE! Now, I have decided to cultivate and oh so tenderly nurture the talents within. And, since I have no talents, (within or otherwise) I have decided rather randomly to plunge into the scintillating scene of sewing (alliteration: 3 points! – well, make it 4, since that was a toughie) I have decided that since I have no identity, I’ll try to make up for that by making really cool and superficial and funky and stylish things. So, I was desperately wanting a sewing machine, but they ain’t cheap. And in walks Mr I Buy Sewing Machines Like They’re Candy and rescues my mood and pretty much whole day/life! He had to run back out the door to head to his place of slaving away aka work, and only had time to say, “I’m going to turn this day around for you.” I gave him a big hug and kiss and will contemplate the big s-e-x tonight as well. I mean, a sewing machine? He scratches my back, I’ll scratch his…(so to speak)

On my lunch break I went to B&N and bought a supersuper cool book on sewing. Before you know it I’ll be designing fun things like aprons and stuff, which I will promptly give away because I do not cook! That is a promise my friends.

So, go me for deciding I need to do more in my life than sleep and shop. 3 cheers for me that I’m making an effort to domesticate myself (hey, if dogs can do it, Brie sure can). 3 more cheers for me for solemnly reassuring myself I will never cook, but that sewing aprons is okay as long as I don’t actually wear them. And go Big B for making that happen!

Brielexander and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I do not know WHAT.IS.UP. with today, but it be no good. I think I had such a fab weekend with my chickies JB and J…and now I’m just back at work freezing vital body parts off and I’m wearing a frumpy brown sweater and my hair looks icky and I’m behind on blog reading and overwhelmed with the sheer number of emails in my inbox to catch up on and in 5 short days I need to pack up and clean up my entire house and paint and re-model another one and I need the NJ tube replaced and I have a million blog topics boinking around in my brain that I never seem to get to and I’m going to stop this sentence because I need to breathe. But breathing sucks.

So does gravity, for realsies. What goes up must come down. ^UP was me this past weekend. _DOWN is me now. Down=frown. Frown=sad. Sad=bad. Bad=tired. Tired=not wired. Not wired=Brie. Brie=me. Me=LAME.

So, in other words, for those of you not mathematically inclined or are not familiar with Briebonics, I’ll put it for you simply:
Today I am frowning while I’m down and am sadly badly tired, and thus NOT WIRED. Also, I am LAME.

So, here’s to hoping that global warming or a miracle from God or our financial destruction will reduce gravity’s steel mega death grip on me. Or, if either McCain or Obama can promise in their campaigns to reduce the hold gravity has here on earth, then they’ve got my vote. Oh, they’ll have my vote.

I’m done. Time to sulk and be smothered in the downess of gravity. The heavy sucky lameness of downess.

Donut Falls Fun

This afternoon J and I thought it would be fun to take JB on a hike to Donut Falls...she doesn't live around mountains and, aside from her ears painfully popping from the elevation, loved it. It was waaay superduper fun. Here are some highlights:

JB and J sunning on a rock.

We decided to get photo creative and shoot some mid-air pics. My face looks insane. Like I'm crapping a pineapple.

I love JB's, it was my favorite pose. :)

Love J's mouth in the pic - it's a perfect O!

Trying to cross the stream/river to get to Donut Falls was hella hard. My balancing skills were def lacking, and JB was stuck to the tree trunk - it was hilarious! :)

At the falls. I'm hunched so I don't look so gigantic next to JB!

JB rock-surfing.

So this weekend has been so fun so far. I've decided JB needs to come visit, like, bi-weekly. :) We've done tons of stuff and taken lots o pics, and I'll try to post more soon. We're just getting ready to leave to go to Color Me Mine (Shannon - wish me luck! :)

I love having a blog friend become a 3D friend!

The Ya-Ya Sisterhood

I’ve never really written a post entirely dedicated to the quirkyness and insanity and amazingness that is my family. Because my family is bigger than a clan of machete-wielding bush men, today I’m going to just focus on my sisters and how fab they are. In an effort to protect their privacy, I’m only going to mention their first initial and will do my best to not say anything too embarrassing that will make them come and challenge me to a catfight. I am weak, and they would win.
From left to right: A, my mom, T, J, A (who is a sis-in-law and I'll write about her later), M who is just below her, B, and finally C, who is another sis-in-law. Not pictured: K andn E, both sis-in-laws who were unable to be on the vacation we had taken where this picture was taken. I'll make sure to track down pics of them before profiling them, because I don't want to do it if I don't have pics to refernce them. :)

So, from oldest to youngest, we first have J.
J is pretty much amazing. Out of all my sisters – nay, out of all my sibs, she is by far the most normal. When the sissy’s and I are all chillin’, I think she stares at us in wonder and thinks we’re insane because we all have quirks when she’s just a rock – stable and dependable and funny and witty. She’s a great mom of 5, and I’d love to one day be the kind of mom she is. Go J! Way to be awesome! (Incidentally, my niece M, who I mention frequently because she is a DDF, is her daughter.)



Next, we have M. M’s the leader of the pack. When we were younger, she’d somehow convince most of us that licking the warts on her toes was a select privilege most didn’t have. She has 6 kids, 5 of which are boys, 2 of them being sweet little twin terrors that get into everything, including once turning the hose on in the house, and pouring syrup in and all over her extremely prized and expensive grand piano! I have no idea how she deals with all the testosterone in her home, for real. She’s funny and EVERYBODY I know gravitates toward her, she’s like a magnet. A hot MILF magnet.

And now, A. (Unfortunately I don't have a separate pic of A on my computer at the time, so reference above.) A is by far and looooong the sweetest in the family. She’s always thinking about how to assist somebody, and she goes above and beyond to help people who are in trouble. A just had a sweet friend die of a long and painful disease, and for months and months, every Wednesday she spent tons of money and time making her friend’s family a nice dinner. She did it because she cared, and because she wanted in some way to ease the pain their family was going through. A is also Lil C’s babysitter, and he just adores her and her sweet 3 lil kiddos. She also is hilarious and I always get the dirtiest and most random texts from her. They always begin with “Hey, Big Tuna!” (Her affectionate nickname for me.) She never ceases to make me smile. :)

Then we have T. T has a twin brother like me, but I’m not going to talk about him yet because this is girls only. I feel like T and I look a lot alike. She’s a workoutaholic and has a smokin’ bod (though, incidentally, you'd have to pay me an insane amount of cash to walk to the 2nd floor to my office at work rather than take the elevator. Me no likey the exercise :). She’s constantly competing in races and feels best on a treadmill. We also always tease her that she must be ADHD because the woman NEVER stops moving, and this is not a joke. We can’t all sit and talk, she’s got to be moving, standing up, dancing around, doing squats, you name it. I can just picture her at night being irritated that her mind demands sleep when her body wants to keep moving. T has 4 great kids; her oldest 2 are twins, too. Can you tell they definitely run in the fam? ;)

Next in line is B. I feel like I can relate most to B. B is closest in age to me, only 4 years older than me. As kids, we fought like rabid little monkeys, but now we’re tight. She’s got 2 sweet little boys, and she’s not afraid to voice her opinion. Because she likes to voice it so much, in fact, she has recently gotten in fights with workers from Home Depot and Arctic Circle. :) Don’t cross this chick, cuz she’ll put you back in your place! B is one of my greatest supporters and always has my back and wants to make sure I’m doing okay. And, proud to say, we haven’t gotten in a physical fight like we did as kids since she was 19 (YES, NINETEEN. AS IN, OLD. I was 15. She chased me around the cul-de-sac we lived in because I borrowed a nasty looking blue vest of hers. She even ended up spitting on me. In front of her boyfriend. And the entire neighborhood. It was not only a definite regression back into childhood on her part, but also hilariously funny. I tease her about it all the time.)

And then there’s me. But you know me.

I'm so grateful for my sisters. I should have mentioned this on my blog earlier, because they are an important part of my life. I am blessed enough to have ALL of them live near me, and I get to see them on a weekly (and often more than that) basis. They are my best friends, who I am hanging out with most. They've been with me through EVERYTHING, all the gunk and suckyness I've gone through, and even though at times they don't understand, they still love me, still want me to keep fighting, and still treasure and love me as a sister. I couldn't ask for anything or anybody better. Thanks, God! Way to give me such awesome sissy's!

Okay, so the next installment will at some point include parental units, brothers, and in-laws. Mi famila es tu familia, so love them like you love me.

you know you love me, xo xo

Tube Thieves and their Medical Coverage, & Bony Obama

Oh boysies, do I have a wealth of funnies for you today!!! Love it when the Blog Gods bless me with infor to the mation that will bring tidings of LOLing and ROFLing and LMAOing to all of you. Because I like you. I probably even love some of you. And that is why I am going to share this with you. It’s all about love, baby:

Okay, so first off? Last night I fell asleep on the sofa because I wanted to read before my sleepydrunky meds kicked in, and Big B was whining in a surprisingly charming and endearing way about the lamp disrupting his sleep. I don’t understand how it could, seeing as he’s asleep in 3.5 seconds once his head hits the pillow – and I swear this is not a joke, he’s like a weird incontinent (???) old man in that regard – but he said it was bugging him nonetheless, so I complied with his husbandly demands and grabbed Hugger and made my way to the couch.

So I’m out on the sofa, and I eventually Z out with my kitty wovers. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling weird happenings in my nose and throat. I start awake, only to find that both of my cats are PLAYING WITH MY TUBE. As in, FEEDING TUBE. Yeah, just batting it around like it’s a ball of yarn bought especially for them. The tape securing it to my face had come off, most of it had been slicked and slithered up and outta my nasal cavity, and as I glowered down at them, my kitties stared up at me with those big, innocent eyes, like, WTF Mom? This is fun! And tasty! Well, needless to say, by then they had pretty much licked up all my intestinal spillage and innard juices, and I felt sad and empty and vulnerable and, well, NAKED. Like my kitties had stripped me of my dignity and left me bereft of any decorum and self-respect I had. I mean, not only do I have to have an NJ tube, but apparently I have to have kitties who are amused with my medical needs. And they take advantage of me. They licked my intestines, or might as well have. They removed the equivalent of the bread of life from my esophagus, stomach, intestines, sinus and nasal cavities. They practically raped me.

So I yoinked it out all the way, which was only a few more inches, and watched the sneaky little snake coil into the garbage. And though I’ll have to go through the weird creepiness of having some PA rove around my small intestines again to replace what my kitties stole from me, at least today I can eat freely without the tube clinging to half the food I consume. I may as well take advantage of this glorious day and eat a chocolate tube-free donut, no? Yea, I shall partake.

Moving on to the next funny:
I was just in a meeting at work that was going over our medical benefits for 2009. They flew in an HR rep from corporate who explained what would stay the same, and what would change, etc. I was pretty much zoning out, planning what I’ll wear tomorrow (should I wear the green angora with the white scoop neck tee with my Big Stars, or my gray Free People with my MEK’s?) when HR Lady revealed that next year, there will INDEED be an option to elect medical coverage for your PETS! I PRACTICALLY YELPED IN DELIGHT!!! I mean, aside from the fact that electing to have medical coverage for my cats will practically cost more than it’ll cost to cover my family, who the hella cares? I mean, Bobbi breathes funny. She lumbers around when she walks, when she should be walking lithely like all the other felines. She’s LARGE. And she grunts when she breathes. And now, in 2009, I can explore why! I can get her the six boobie reductions she’s been begging me now for 3 years! I can get their teeth whitened! I could even – do I dare say it? – get them anal bleaching! AHHHHHHH! I’m so excited!!!

And last, but certainly not least,

Barack Obama is so skinny it’s practically triggering. Barack Obama has now become Bony Obama in my book. He’s practically a skeleton with ears. I’m not sure I can support a manorexic in the White House. TRIGGERTRIGGERTRIGGER!!!!

LOVE IT (and you)!!!

Worrisome Worries = Worry Lines = Lame

So many worries, so little time! Good thing I’m not anxious at all!!! Let us begin:

WORRY #1 - My prez candidate saying something slightly more embarrassing than your candidate in tonight’s debate.
WORRY #2 - Weight G A I N
WORRY #3 - Moving. And though I am just tickled we will be moving to our own cute little house on the prairie, it’s still stressful. I don’t decorate, I don’t paint. I don’t make things look homey. And I can’t afford an interior decorator. Well, I could sell my body for one, but Big B yelled a big N to the O on that one.
WORRY #4 - Many a worry line was conceived while working. For The Man. Contracting is HARD.
WORRY #5 - Um, our failing economy, anyone? It's hard to process it all, though I hear the words Fanny and Freddy thrown around, as well as douche bag (okay, that might just be me muttering while I’m listening to AM radio) and 700 billion dollars. That’s a lot. And it better work. I don’t want the price of eggs to soar or anything.
WORRY #6 - My child is turning into a meanie weenie. His favorite phrases are STOP IT! No! I don’t like it! and MINE. I don’t know where he learns such things. I know he didn’t learn them from me, because if he were learning words from me, he’d be saying something, like, oh, I don’t know…NIMPLE. (A nipple with a pimple on it. See? Ya’ll just learned a new word!) and my son is not saying that. Brieisms have thankfully and oh so graciously not rolled off his tongue as of yet.
WORRY #7 - Chocolate donuts vs feeding tubes. FYI, the tube will ALWAYS win.
WORRY # 8- Frienship pins coming back into style. Please, please no! I vote that we bring back the BFF necklaces that had like the two half hearts that were torn down the middle, ‘member those? Bom chicka waa waa!
WORRY #9 - This is another that has to do with our little house on the prairie. I seriously have no energy to move. I mean that literally. If I had to move today, I couldn’t. I’d collapse, and, well, probably melodramatically. I think I might have to be on babysitting detail or something and watch The Man while Big B and his brothas move. Although I was hoping to work a little more on my ripped biceps…they need just a titch more work before they'll look exactly like Gillian's on Biggest Loser. She's hottt, btw. I could eat her eyebrows, that's how gorgeous they are.
WORRY #10 - The tube that pretty much takes up my whole face. Racher sent me the photo I posted on my previous blog, only it was for realsies touched up, with no tube at all, and really she’s great. You might not know this, but she re-touches EVERY ONE of my blog pics. I’m not too keen on ya’ll seeing my genital warts. On my face. (!)

Okay, wellsies folks, that’s all the worries for now, at least that my brain can handle at once before it malfunctions of over-worrying. I need to chill or else I’m going to get a whole lotta worry lines on a face that otherwise has no huge problems other than feeding tubes and genital warts. I’ve got a good thing going, and I don’t want to mess it up…

To end on a good note, go check out K’s blog at Spilled Coffee and get involved in the Healthy Models coalition. I’ll be in charge of the blog, once we’re up, (at healthymodels.org) and as a former model, I feel that I can add a lot of insight and realism to the blog and the site. Healthy models forever! Dying models never!

HotDoc, PrickDoc, & a Whole Lot More

Okay, so I have been the chairman of the Pity Party Committee for far too long. I’m trying to bounce back, baby. So in an effort to commence the bounce diddy bounce bounce, here goes…

I went and saw Docalicious yesterday, and the dude was so freaking nice to me. Why am I always surprised when MD’s are nice? I think it’s because MD’s are obviously well-trained in the medical aspects of things, and at times emotional issues are harder for them to understand, and anorexia can be especially sucky for them because the mental problemos can cross into physical and medical problemos as well. What a medical conundrum!! I of course in no way am speaking for every doc all over the world, because I have an awesome bro who lives in Germany and is an MD and is always very kind and patient where my ED is concerned, but I guess I assume that Docalicious is going to be frustrated with me and just want to cart me off to the psych ward or something. But psych wards blow. Seriously, the thought of it makes me diarrhea in my mouth.

He took me into his office yesterday when I got there and just wanted to chat and make sure I was okay after Mission: Endure the Hospital. I mentioned vaguely in my last post that my attending physician was a real prick and made me cry…even Docalicious told me that when they were talking on the phone that “the guy was a real jerk,” and he told me that he could handle it, but he said that he knew if he was being a jerk to him he was certainly being a jerk to me, and he felt awful about it. PrickDoc just made me feel like I was wasting his time and that I should gain weight so that he could wash his hands of me. I felt so small when he talked to me, and in general, I likey being small (weight loss, anyone?) but not in the way he did it. He degraded me; he talked to me as if he would a child. Even my mom and Big B noticed. At any rate, it was just nice to be validated by not only Docalicious, but by my mom and B as well, so I knew I wasn’t just being supersensitive, which has def been known to happen on occasion (or, perhaps, like, everyday…)

So I’m getting back into the swing of things. I’m back at work today for the first time in awhile, and I’m doing my best to be chipper and pretend I don’t have a chocolate donut plastered to my tube in my throat. Who knew I’d get to taste the damn thing all day instead of only at breakfast? Sounds like fun, right? Yeah, not as fun as you’d think.

I have therapy tonight, and I was so scared and stressed that I had to accept Mission: Endure the Hospital, that I decided I was going to quit going to my N and my T and I’d be fine because they wouldn’t be telling me I wasn’t fine, and I’d live happily ever after at a size x and be sa-weet and glorious and fabulous and terrifically tiny all the time. But then I remembered that because The World hates me, that’ll never happen. Plus Big B told me that in NO WAY was I to quit the therapy. I’m not sure, but I think my judgment on this may be a bit clouded by, oh, I don’t know, a tube stuck in my throat and a traumatizing hospital stay. Just an idea.

Okay, so for reals SO EXCITED that I get to meet my JB on Friday!!! Who knew a Blog Friend would turn into a real live 3D friend? So cool! Only, if she ends up being a man who has back hair and carries a machete off of the plane, then, well JB, you’ll have to suck it and kill somebody else, okay? I’m just saying.

Totally listening to the AM radio and am waaay sick of the whole presidential race thing. I’m so over it. It’s kind of like the Olympics, when they come, you’re freaking out and all excited and tune in every night, but after awhile you’re kinda ready for them to be over so that you can get back to your regular life. That’s how I feel. 3 weeks from today I will officially procure an I VOTED!!! sticker and be done with it. I have purposely not stated who I want to win, etc etc, because it could get heated, and I am so not the confrontational person. So just vote, okay? America needs you!!! (PS I’m actually kinda fed up with both candidates. If I had my way, I’d vote for Diet Coke. Diet Coke for president! My name is Brie and I approve this message. I’m actually thinking of getting a license plate frame that says just that….)

Okay my DDF’s, I suppose that is all for now. Enjoy your tube-less day, and I will continually enjoy my chocolate donut today, and regretfully, perhaps tomorrow. Although I did just hear a really funny fat joke about the Statue of Liberty, and that is a balm to my soul. A lovely, deep, cleansing balm.

LOVE YOU!!!

PS Did you notice I made my tube almost disappear in my pic? Me loves the wonders of photo fakeness!

sosorrysosadsolame (sorry!)

As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I am indeedily doo alive. The nausea and reflux I was experiencing due to re-feeding has already been greatly reduced now that I have an NJ tube rather than an NG tube. Also, because the tube completely bypasses the stomach, I’m finding it easier to eat because I don’t feel as full of Jevity. Since I’ve been home, I’ve eaten in voracious abundance, no kidding. For so long I could hardly eat anything, I was so nauseated and just…NOT HUNGRY. I think my body is making up for that now. So, I take an anti-nausea and some sort of pill for my reflux, and I’m feeling better.

The hospital, of course, is never fun. I had a good, long cry due to a doctor, but I don’t want to get into it and work up the tears again. It felt GOOD to cry though…it’s been so long. Having to have the tube all the time, though, since you can’t just take out and re-insert a tube into your intestines everyday is a major BJ. So I’m back to Tube Face McBrie again, and it already feels like forever.

Can you tell I’m in no mood to be either funny or eloquent? I’m just in a funk, thinking that I’m back HERE again…wherever here is…I just know that it’s not very good. I worry more about what others think…my family in particular, and I know, I mean, I always hear, who cares what anybody thinks, just do what you need to do…blah blah. But when it’s family, it’s different. I just feel sorry I can’t be what I know they want me to be.

Okay, I’m done feeling sorry for myself and I think, a bit cryptic. Sorry ya’ll had to deal with this. More later when I’m feeling better, I swear. And my post next time will totally make you laugh, I swearsies.

Suck Balls - the Hospital Calls...

I'm here. I'm stuck. On the 8th floor of a medical ward. I sure would appreciate ya'll sending me your prayers and good vibes and positive karma and well wishes and gifts and emails and dirty jokes and texts in c/o of the Briester. Not much news yet. I'm going to get an NJ tube shortly (this is different than an NG tube in that they stick it down in your intestines rather than just stomach) so, as you can imagine, I'm just thrilled. Hear they're serving chicken for dinner.

Optimism at its Finest

I am hopeful this day will be better than Monday. In fact, I insist. It MUST be better, it has to be. And here’s what I’m going to do to help ensure/insure that this will indeed happen:

I am doing my hair and makeup for the first time since Friday. YES, FRIDAY, folks. Grossness, here!

I’m going to therapy again today, but plan on NOT doing the following:
-Tripping. Firmly planted feet, here, people.
-Wearing my ED Hearty Ed Hardy hat. As K2 said, wearing a hat with a skeleton on it that might be considered pro-ana did NOT go over well with the t to the herapist.
-Arriving early. In fact, just to make a statement that says I’m not an eager beaver, I’m going to arrive 2 minutes LATE.
-Look too skinny. This will be achieved by the perfect combination of not too baggy and not too tight jeans. In fact, I should patent this process and sell them on eBay or Amazon. I’ve perfected the look!

I have no headache, I have no brain tumor. At least, I have received no further evidentiary support, but you never know.

I’m going to the park with my sisters. Talking about exsay (or BD, as far as Z is concerned… ;) and the most recent embarrassing moments (my epic trip from Monday will surely be dissected in great detail) all with a giant Diet Coke, from the fountain with minimal ice..ahhhhh…life can’t get much better for this chick who doesn’t expect much from herself and has certainly stopped thinking Life will do anything for her. ;)

I’m expecting this in the mail today…fingers crossed…bad apples! Awesome Brie!

See?? How can my day NOT be anything but good? And, I’ve just decided that it doesn’t even have to be GREAT or GOOD or NICE or even FINE. It just needs to be better than it was on Monday. That shouldn’t be that difficult. I mean, epic trip and falls don’t just happen every day, and certainly not more than once a week. Also, neither do growing brain tumors. Or pro-ana headwear.

So I think I’m clear.

Summary of Suckage

Reason #1 that today sucks: I woke up at 3 in the morning to the obnoxious sound of my tube beeping at me. I woke up with a terrible headache, and whipped out the tube in the hopes that would help the aches and pains and throbs oh my. IT DIDN’T. I once had a doc who told me that it was more likely you had a brain tumor if you woke up with a headache rather than got one naturally throughout the day. And then I couldn’t properly go back to sleep my head hurt so badly. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: I didn’t get sleep and instead I got a brain tumor.

Reason #2 that today sucks: I got into the waiting room for my T right at 10. She came out, sat by me, and said “Heeeeey. Yeah, you’re not scheduled until 11.” Just then, her 10 o’ clock patient came and sat by me who looked altogether much cooler and un-depressed than me. I was so horrified I jumped up and said “Ok! See you in an hour!” and went to run up the stairs…only to, like, miss a few. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: not only was I an hour early to therapy, my T got to watch me biff it on the stairs and unceremoniously slide down a few. I’m not a graceful faller. It goes against my tall nature.

Reason #3 that today sucks: since my mom and I had an hour to kill before I went back to therapy, we decided to hit the nearest strip mall. My mom was regaled with stories of how I was UGLY and FAT and STUPID and NOT DOING THE TUBE anymore because I DIDN’T NEED IT and COULDN’T SHE SEE I WAS FAT?? We then went to Vicki’s and I bought a Pink sweater that said PEACE and LOVE. I tried to reason with my mom, telling her I couldn’t buy the sweater because peace and loved SUCKED. She told me that once I was feeling more stable, I’d think peace and love were JUST FINE again. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: if you’re so wrapped up in your own personal suckage that you hate peace and love, then, well, you really suck.

Reason #4 that today sucks: my hus is awesome. He rocks at a lot of things. But he definitely doesn’t rock at what I like to call “common parent sense.” When I asked him to get Lil C ready for me this morning, he decided to leave him in his jammies and pull a hoodie over the whole thing rather than dress him properly. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: my mom and I had a teeming, smelly, GIANT pee diaper that exploded everywhere that had been velcroed to his cute lil butt the entire night. This suckage was minimized, though, because my mom had to clean it up because I was in therapy. At any rate, Hus, you’re awesome. Thanks for all you do. You are a shining human being aside from the fact you forgot our child wasn't potty-trained.

Reason #5 that today sucks: upon going back to therapy, my T told me that she hadn’t even recognized me when she initially saw me because I looked so thin, I didn’t even look like me anymore. I stared back at her, unimpressed, and told her that last time I worse these jeans to therapy they fit me the same. I was stumped because I had just been getting ready to tell her that I was done using the tube because I was FAT and STUPID and UGLY and because my HEAD HURT. We then went through the 15 or something warning signs that you know you’re in a relapse. That was really fun. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: apparently there actually are, in fact, FIFTEEN indicators of the fact I ain’t doin so hot. FIFTEEN. Dude.

Reason #6 that today sucks: I decided to wear my Ed Hardy hat today because I was UGLY and FAT and I didn’t want to do my hair or makeup, and I thought the hat would hide the world from my nastiness. When I got to therapy, my T asked me what my hat said, she said she was trying to read it but couldn’t quite see it all. “It says Ed Hardy.” When she asked me what it was, I told her it was a designer, a line of clothing. She, in fact, thought that the Ed part of it was some sort of pro-ana proclamation. She then went on to say that she didn’t like that the skulls and flowers were together, like the designer was trying to glorify death and make it pretty or something. Exactly, I said. Love kills slowly. ??? She didn’t register it. At any rate, she said that she didn’t think it was a coincidence that I had worn the hat today, and I told her, she was right. I was UGLY and FAT and STUPID and I had only wanted to wear a hat to cover all that up today. My hat was not, in fact, some sort of pro-ana proclamation. Do they even make pro-ana headwear? I mean my hell. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: I wasted 1/3 of a very expensive tx sesh on what the design of my hat said about my soul and psyche. The fact I thought it was “hot” would not suffice for her. NOTE TO SELF: never wear said Ed Hardy hat to therapy again.

Reason #7 that today sucks: I will be rockin’ a feeding tube all the time, and not just at nighttime. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: dude, do I really need to summarize this for you? It sucks because FEEDING TUBES SUCK. Especially when you have to wear them all over your face ALL THE TIME. Scha-wing!

Reason #8 that today sucks: after I woke up from my nap my head STILL HURTS. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: I now have further evidence that a brain tumor is looming on the horizon.

Reason #9 that today sucks: I have EIGHT OTHER reasons that today sucks. SUMMARY OF SUCKAGE: eight’s a lot. Eight’s too many. That really sucks.

Rain Robbed me of a Post Today

I hate rain. Lame lame lamazoid. In books they always make it seem so cozy, like romantic and stuff. It’s DEF not. I thought for awhile that Big B and I should kiss in the rain, since it seems to be all the rage these days, totally what the kids are doing, but we tried it, and…LAME. Who needs a kiss to be even WETTER than it already is? Also, no kiss, however lip-smackingly delicious, is worth wet hair and shoes. It just CAN’T be.

At any rate, I find myself chillin with the C man watching Ice Age and wanting this day to be over. For it to rain an entire day in Utah AT ONCE is, like, a once in a lifetimer. Ick Eeww gross lame. Hate it!

I attempted to sleep through the afternoon in an effort to pass the day away, but that might’ve been even worse. I think the Dream Gods were punishing me for breaking a therapeutic rule (I, Brie, solemnly swear that I will not nap this weekend…) and decided that I deserved two jam-packed hours of nightmares. And, yeah, at least if you have the regular sort of nightmare you wake up, scared, all that stuff…but YOU WAKE UP. These nightmares weren’t sufficiently terrifying enough to warrant an abrupt awakening, but they were queasily creepifying enough to make me feel restless and MORE tired than I would’ve been had I stayed awake and endured the LAME wet afternoon.

Also, if it weren’t raining, I’d have been able to go out and have fun this afternoon, maybe frolic in the sunshine, snap some pics, and thus have some very helpful and hilarious material to bestow on you lucky readers who happen upon my blog. But instead, you get THIS. This nasty lameness.

Ooh! I have good news, but in a really shameful way. Like, I’m evil, I think, but that’s not the good news: The good news is that my dietary appointment that was scheduled for this coming Wednesday got moved to the following Wednesday. This is thrilling. This is extremely exciting. This is the grand prize of all prizes. Why, you ask? Because I have an EXTRA WEEK to gain weight and NOT be put in the hospital. Why am I evil? Because there was a death in my D’s family, which prompted her immediate and unforeseen departure. Obviously I didn’t kill the family member, but I might as well have for how beautifully it benefited me. I’m a disgusting human being. And of course, I would rather H be here and not have a death in the fam, but STILL, I feel SO BAD that I’m happy I get an extra week. Bad Brie!

Okay, I’m going to go now. My evilness is depressing even me. (Not that, you know, it’s that hard to depress me…)

Bonus points for you if you can count how many times I used LAME in this blog…

FLASHBACK: high school!

Saw this 'lil questionnaire on another blog and did me a little copy and paste action. I want to blog today, but I can’t think of an original idea. So, what better way to ruin my afternoon than to remember the high school years? Yea, I can think of NONE.

1. Did you date someone from your high school? Yeah, I was pretty much dating somebody all the time, which is weird, because most of the time I’d have rather been at home than on a date. First J, then A, then M, then a different M, then T, then back to the 2nd M, then T again, then back to A again for awhile. Oh, and then back to M again. Wow. I’m such a floozy! (And that was just in HS!)

2. What kind of car did you drive? Gemelo and I shared a 1990 Isuzu Trooper. She was white and a real beaut. Brett named her Britney, as in Britney Spears. There were stickers of her everywhere lining the dash and the mirrors and glove box…he then installed his own ridiculous sounding horn and a stick shift that glowed. It was actually pretty dang awesome.

3. What is your most embarrassing moment in high school? I really don’t know; I think I may have repressed it. Aside from the requisite period scare or two, not much. There was, like I told a few of you, an embarrassing incident involving a thong, and I was in high school, but I wasn’t at the high school when it happened. Therefore, I get out of regaling you with this sordid tale. (Plus, I think I'd give Racher a heart attack.)

4. Were you a party animal? Noooo. My sophomore and junior year I felt like I was more or less living in my BFF’s shadow, and I’d go out and hang with her and our other friends, but I really most of the time just wanted to snuggle at home with my kitties and a good book. My senior year I was pretty much too wrapped up in modeling and not eating to do much of anything else.

5. Were you considered a flirt? Not until after high school. Then I perfected the art.

6. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir? No! I played the cello in 4th grade but after a humiliating moment involving Christmas Eve, evil siblings, and boos, I was done. I can’t sing, and also I have more self-respect than to wear the sparkly and ill-fitting garb the unfortunate musical folk are usually made to wear. Also, band hats with the chin strappy thing.

7. Were you a nerd? No. I felt like I was, though. I’ve had people tell me since then that I was “popular,” but I think I was so insecure or anxious about stuff I didn’t feel cool. I just felt weird. I was a nerd in the sense though that I loved reading the books my English teachers assigned me, and I got really good grades too.

8. Were you on any varsity teams? Yeah I was on the varsity volleyball team my sophomore and junior years. I didn’t play my senior year because I had a coach that was this egotistical wacky bastard. I kicked a volleyball and smacked him in the face with it, which was, like, AMAZING, even though I didn’t mean to. At any rate he then proceeded to scream and curse at me in front of the team and most of the school. Wow. I’m remembering what a prick he was.

9. Did you get suspended/expelled? No. Although in elementary school I got a white slip because some girl whispered at me in quiet time. I was sobbing and thought my mom was going to kill me. I contemplated forging her signature, but figured then I’d really go to Hell. When I told her what had happened she laughed and hugged me. Good thing my mom was nicer than my 5th grade teacher. The whole thing was so scary scary quite contrary for a 10 year old. Plus I was really anxious, okay?

10. Can you still sing the fight song? No I don’t think I EVER knew the fight song, let alone sang it.

11. Who were your favorite teachers? Ms. H, an English teacher, who came to my wedding. Although, Ms. B, my Spanish teacher all three years was pretty cool cuz she told us stories about how when she taught in the 70’s in Pittsburgh she grew Pot in the back of the classroom and smoked it with her students. Also, she’d tell us crazy stories about how the US brainwashed us into believed Fidel Castro was a villain, when he wasn’t. She had touched his hand once and had a crush, I think. The thing that got me was that she wasn’t Cuban or whatever, just plain ‘ol United Statian. Why did she like Castro? When the admin found out about it, they put a stop to it, let me tell you…at any rate her class was fun because you never knew what you were going to get! Once she didn't even to show up to class and later we learned it was because she couldn't get out of her bathtub or something. Dude. She wasn't that old.

12. Where did you sit during lunch? When I was actually eating, on the steps with my friends.

13. School Mascot? A colt. It was funny though because it definitely wasn’t a baby horse; it looked like a vicious stallion. I don’t think colts are very intimidating, so they tweaked it a bit. I definitely was a proud holder of much school pride, though, and loved the black, gold, and white. GO COLTS!

14. Did you go to homecoming and with whom? Sophomore year I didn’t go to Homecoming, I was out of town. Junior year I didn’t go either because I was at a volleyball tournament. My senior year I did go, with G. I didn’t have fun though, mostly because I wasn’t eating. And for some other reasons. Don’t ask.

15. If you could go back and do it again, would you? Hell no you couldn’t pay me enough to go back amidst the high hormones, pimples, and melodrama that is high school. There are things of course that I would change, if I could, but I wouldn’t go back and do it again. That would be rough!

16. What do you remember most about graduation? The thing I remember most about graduation was the fact that I WASN’T THERE. I was in treatment. Never got to walk across the stage and get my diploma, or throw my cap in the air, or party that night with my friends. I think I made crafts at CFC with blunt scissors and crayons. Regression, anyone?

17. Where did you go senior skip day? We didn’t have an official Senior Skip Day. But, I for sure skipped my fair share, especially during senior year. Anorexia+ Senior Slacking Phenomena = no energy and no desire to attend school. SAD!

18. Have you gained weight since then? AHAHAHAHAHA!! I weigh less now than I did my sophomore and junior years, but I weigh more than I did my Senior year, but mostly because when I was finally whisked away to treatment I was literally almost dead. Why do I find this question funny? Why??

19. Who was your prom date? Sophomore year it was with J, the aforementioned b-friend. Junior year it was with A, (another mentioned b-friend) who was a sweetie for asking me because I was nominated for Prom Queen and didn’t have a date at the last minute because M, the jerk (at the time) backed out because he decided he didn’t like me anymore or whatever. My senior year M and I were back to dating, and although he had already graduated, he took me to prom to make up for the fact he didn’t take me the year prior. Didn’t have fun, though, my prom pics from that time are superskinnyscary because I was a month away from going into treatment and I look AWFUL. My dress was made specifically for me by a seamstress my mom hired because I was so teeny; no dresses I tried on even came close to fitting. I look disproportioned, and my head looks like an orange on a toothpick. It was BAD.

20. Are you planning on going to your 10 year reunion? Sure. I was nervous about going to my 5 year but had fun and was glad I ended up going. I hid behind the cuteness that is my son the entire time. I figured it might help people forget about the fact I disappeared senior year.

21. Looking back, what advice would you give yourself? EAT. BREATHE. THESE DAYS AREN’T AS IMPORTANT AS YOU THINK THEY ARE. Oh, and popularity means nothing once you graduate, so suck on that, D!

[Oh, and in case you're the most UNOBSERVANT person in the Blogosphere, I changed the header on my blog. You likey?]

But Brie, how do I find the coping mechanism that works for ME?

Well, I'll tell you!!! After extensive research, I have compiled a list of things that one can do to cope or escape or run from or hide or forget about the unfortunate thing they call their life. Read below, and pick what whets your whistle:

READING
I was spending $30 a week on books; I was reading them so talented-ly quickly. Big B told me I needed to remember what a library was – or else I’d read us out of house and hearth or whatever. Now I can read books reallysuperfast! When I bought them I always tried to drag them out for at least 2 days, sometimes if I could make it, I’d read it s l o w enough to read it in 3 days! Talk about being a total turtle, you know? Ick. Green doesn’t even look good on me! But now that I am the proud keeper of a library card, I can read one or two books a day without feeling guilty! For reals, totally gone through like, probably, 12 books in 2 weeks. I highly recommend this distracting method if you are interested in forgetting about your own story for awhile and delving into somebody else’s, preferably who has a worse lot in life than you do.

GLUTTONIZE IN FRONT OF THE TV
I didn’t used to be a big TV watcher until some genius (who was probably a GIANT couch potato) invented the TiVO. But the idea of “Record now, watch later” ranks up there with other life-changing inventions like sling-backs and mustard and ear plugs. You know? Even though reality TV isn’t actuality (Hellloooo MTV! Could your “reality” series get any more scripted?!) I enjoy seeing real life people get their 15 minutes of fame while entirely humiliating themselves. Good ‘ol sitcoms really hit my spot, too. The Office? My favorite! Runners-up include, but are not necessarily limited to: Project Runway, ANTM, Biggest Loser, (for reals almost cry every week!) 30 Rock, Grey’s, and Desperate Housewives. I’m trying to get into the new 90210 series, but the girls on the show are suuuuper skinny, and the storyline thus far is suuuuper lame; a total yawner. I give it 2 more weeks, tops. This method is highly recommended if the idea of burning brain cells may help decrease the amount of brain-power you devote to your sucktastic life.

SUDOKU
The people of Asian are so smart. I don’t even know how somebody invented this crazy number puzzle! (S)he must’ve had a really lame social life. At any rate, if you’re extremelyridiculously anxious, this is your best bet. When your leg’s a jigglin and your mind’s a racin’, focusing on numbers and charts forces your mind to more or less stay on track so you don’t screw up the puzzle – I HATE screwing up because I ALWAYS do it in pen, (My handwriting is SO MUCH cuter in pen than in pencil!) then I have to start over, and I call myself a tool and get really ticked – so to avoid all that, I tell my anxiety to simmer down so that I can focus and hopefully not lose more self-esteem by being a Sudoku loser. Being a loser of any kind sucks. Also, once you’re done, and you’ve been doing these for a good and steady 2, 3 hours, (think being locked at CFC during study hall – painfully yawningly lame) when you close your eyes, you see numbers and charts everywhere and can’t stop reciting the numbers 1-9 in your head. Kinda trippy, especially if you pretend like you’re on mushrooms and hallucinating. Bonus! This method is recommended if you are Asian, good at math, bad at math, or have been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder.

SEX
Um. Talk to your therapist. You have what I like to call a little issue. This method is recommended, well, never? Unless you happen upon Will Smith or Shia LaBeouf? Maybe? No? [EDIT: Sex isn't bad, it's totally bama-wama. I only mean if it's an addiction, re: David Duchovny (whom I love). I don't discriminate!]

SHOPPING
I’m not entirely sure that this isn’t so much a coping method as another addiction. So, if you find yourself racking up the numbers on the CC, get a new hobby. Exactly. Those were Big B’s words: “GET A NEW HOBBY BRIE, RIGHT NOW!” So I did. Stick figures, the Paint program? Ringing any bells??? This method is recommended if you have rich parents or a rich spouse. Or if you whore yourself for money.

SLEEPING
AAAAAHHHH! This is my favorite. This is my vice. This feels better than drugs. Well, scratch that. Downers AND sleeping at the same time are best. Just kidding. Just say no!! At any rate, I’ve napped almost every single day of my life since I was 11. If I were any good at math, I’d calculate the months I’ve lost. Oh, sad. I’m starting to pine for my lost youth! This method is recommended if you have no social life or don't mind slaughtering the semblance of the one you do have. Not recommended if you are a sufferer of nightmares or bed-wetting.

Well, I’m certain there are dozens and dozens more I could list, but my left shoulder is starting to get strained from my fast-paced fingers whamming this thing out. Also, I need chapstick. And a life outside this blog. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go read before I fall asleep, and afterward I’m going to go shopping, buy a Sudoku book, then come home and watch TV. Then I’m gonna have me a little sex.

What about you??

The Ultimatum

Saw the D today. Wasn’t a fan of the sesh, let me tell you. I lost weight. I LOST WEIGHT. She said a “significant amount.” How do you lose a significant amount in just a week? How is that possible when I’m doing the tube feed nightly and eating during the day? Yes, I could be eating more, and I am increasing the amount every week. But I’m not not eating either, you knowsies? It’s just so frustrating. I don’t know why my metabo is on a turbo setting. I really see it as some sort of irony, The Great Irony of My Life, that at the one point in my life when I don’t want to lose, when I want to gain; I cannot. Love the prank, God. You got me. But can it be done now?

The Dster gave me an ultimatum: gain weight consistently EVERY WEEK or go to the hospital. She said it wasn’t for psychiatric reasons, she said it was because I was just way too malnourished, and it would be too scary to let this continue happening. But, what if I follow the meal plan we made today, and I do the tube every night like a good little girl, and what if, after all that, I still lose weight? What then? Do I still have to go to the hospital, even though I tried my hardest? Really? Please, no?

I do not want my tubed ass (or, rather, my tubed nose) to get hauled to a hospital. I have Lil C, I have Bran, I have work…all of whom are depending on me. Depending on me NOT to go to the hospital. I kinda hate myself right now.