Friday, October 31, 2008
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.
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!
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
everybody else, of course!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Hey Lil Cccccccccc...if at first you don't succeed, then
try, oh please try...
So, along with my sissy's Brooke and Amber...
And all their kids...
We came. We trunk or treated.
And we had a really, really awesome time.
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.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
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
*A roof over your head
I have also recently realized that I need FOUR things to live, and, in order of importance, they are:
*A roof over my head
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. :)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
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
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
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!
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.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
JB and J sunning on a rock.
I love JB's, it was my favorite pose. :)
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!
Friday, October 17, 2008
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.
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
Thursday, October 16, 2008
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)!!!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
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!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
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.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
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.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
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.
-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.
Monday, October 6, 2008
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.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
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…
Friday, October 3, 2008
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!)
Thursday, October 2, 2008
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.
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.
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!]
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.
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??
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
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.