Resolutions: Rah, Rah, Rah!

Well kids, it’s New Years Eve, so we know what that means. Yes! It means it’s time to make resolutions for the new year, set the bar way too high, NOT achieve them, and forget about them by March – April if you’re a real go-getter. (Go you, by the way!) I’ve been thinking about this long and hard (that’s what she said) for the past five minutes and here are my resolutions:

1. Don’t shop for clothing that I do not need. Last year I made it until February 1st. I’m hoping that this year I can make it to March 3rd. I’ll keep you in the know.
2. Yoink the tube for good before I turn 89. This is actually a resolution that should last oh, about 65 years. Slow and steady wins the race though, don’t ya know?
3. By next week I want ya’ll to be able to say CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR RECOVERY. I’ll stamp a giant cured in my file and call it a day. I’m almost there!
4. Narrow down the amount of Black Bag days from 350 to 250.
5. Figure out what the hell an affirmation is and how it’s actually supposed to help me progress to the day next week when everybody will throw me a CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR RECOVERY party.
6. Be happy about my calling at church. Big B and I were just called to teach the 3 year olds. How is that possible, exactly? Pretty sure they don’t want to sit for 30 minutes and hear all about Jesus and The Plan ‘n stuff. Also, truthfully, small people make me nervous. I feel wary around them as I would around one of those inbred $1000 dogs that yip and could strike at any moment. What if I step on one of them? This is a valid question. I mean, I like kids, but mostly just the ones I’m related to because I’m obligated, haha.
7. Maybe take less Mental Meds? I’d like to wean myself off of some of them, but it makes me sceeeeeared because one time when I tried my cat lost an arm. Scariest thing that’s ever happened to me.
8. Acquire a houseplant and do not murder it. Try to remember that it is not plotting my demise. I’m wondering if this is possible. I’ve kept my kid alive for more than 2 years, but not sure I can do the same thing with a plant. They can be conniving and evil.
9. Talk in therapy about why I’m afraid of houseplants.
10. Eat more, exercise never.
11. Blog all year, bitches!

What are your resolutions? Tellemetellmetellme!
(And I hope you have a fantastic time tonight. Get crazier than a paranoid schizophrenic off his meds!) LOVE YOU!!

BEST (and worst) OF 2008

Jax tagged me to do a list of my favorite products, only I expanded it to include some of my favorites (and me no likeys) of 2008. It was mostly a crappy year, folks, but there were definitely some good things thrown in there:

Favorite shampoo/conditioner: I’ll admit that I don’t have a favorite, and usually when I finish a bottle I buy a different brand. This is because I get all paranoid thinking my hair is to “used” to the product and doesn’t respond to the amazingness that I know the product’s marketing is trying to sell me.
Least favorite shampoo/conditioner, though, would have to be Pantene Pro-V. Sorry you Pro-Vers. I hear it’s bad for your hair.

Favorite hair product: Aveda’s Style-Prep Smoother. Works like a dream, a smooth, delicious dream. Least favorite? I dunno. Probably that totally nast cheap gel where you can buy like 32 oz for a buck or something.

Favorite makeup: Why, concealer of course! I have the darkest, creepiest under-eye circles known to (wo)man. Personally I’m totally having a passionate love affair with Maybelline’s Dream Matte Mousse. Lame name, because I feel like I’m supposed to eat it, but it works great and is only like 10 bucks.

Favorite perfume: I’m personally a fan of Ginger Essence from Origins. It’s really light but doesn’t smell like all those other generic ones out there that the celebrities are making. And least favorite? Well, like I said: all those ones out there that the celebrities are concocting when you know that they don’t do a d-a-m-n thing to create them. Also, really strong smells give me a headache. Can't even walk into Bath and Body Works without getting dizzy, having a headache, and wanting to ralph. I have a very sensitive nasal cavity. Also, even I could mix some Diet Coke and spices and flowers or whatever and call it something overly dramatic like DROP DEAD SENSUAL. Would people buy it?

Favorite Vitamin: this one made me laugh, because as a general rule I hateohIpassionatlyHATE taking vitamins. Something about taking care of myself. I dunno. HOWEVER, I will eat Gummy Vites. Cade and I each eat 2 a day! And don't therapize me. I know I'm a grown woman lalala, and I know I should take real pills, but THESE ARE GOOD. And it's nice to not have to swallow ANOTHER pill after the 37463728 other ones I take. Okay? (Shutup.)(I'm not being defensive.)(I'm just saying.)

Diet Supplement: Hmmm. While I was tempted to put Ephedra on here just so I could see how many shat their pants and tried to arrange an intervention, I’ll refrain and be a good girl: BOOST BABY!! Seriously, cannot count the amount of cans I’ve gagged down or had dripdripdripping into me.

Favorite must have of all time: this was a toughie. And while I think concealer is pretty high up on the list, I also need to mention C.O. Bigelow Mentha Lip Tint. It’s so cheap and is full of fun and amazingess. Least favorite product of all time: FEEDING TUBE.

Now on to more of my faveys:
Favorite store: Why, The Buckle, of course!

Favorite Jeans: MEK Denim stole my heart away this year. I luuuurve them. Look at these. Oh, and these too! I wear both of these ALL.THE.TIME.


Favorite shoes: These Pumas have made my year. I’ve got them in two colors! They’re so comfy and fun and make me feel so freaking cool.

Favorite movie(s): The Dark Knight. Oh, and Twilight. Shutup.


Favorite Restaurant: Red Robin, of course. I don’t think this’ll ever change. Have you ever had their fries and their chocolate malts? Totally get an O without the foreplay!


Favorite TV show(s): Wow. This was extrememly hard to narrow down because truthfully, I really like watching TV. However, I’d have to say that this year my faveys are Biggest Loser and Gossip Girls. Alana got me into GG and I’ve been hooked ever since. For realsies, you should try it!


Favorite books: This was really hard because I probably read hundreds of books this year. However, the three that come to mind are I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak, A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving, and The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which won the Pulitzer this year or last year or something. All worthwhile reads, for sure.

Okay, well that’s it for now. Let me know what you (un)enjoyed this year, too.

You Asked, I Delivered

Behold, Shave with me Barbie as mentioned in my white elephant post:

I swear, if those aren't pubes, then I'm not the cool and stylish person I know I am. Seriously. Not to BRAG OR ANYTHING. Just saying.

Now if you'll excuse me. I need to go wash myself after looking at this picture. I theeeeeenk it has Gonnorrhea.

Too Cool for School & Bad Hair

My child needs a new haricut. It's uneven. And disgusting. And really sad. So a couple weeks ago, I wanted to trim the back, because it was starting to look borderline mulletish, so took a bit off, no prob I thought, but then shazam...NOW HE LOOKS LIKE ELLEN DEGENERES.


So this morning I left my mom's early to go see the T, while she was going to meet me with the man child after my sesh. When I saw him, my heart did sad, freaked out little flutters. My mom had no doubt thought that Ellen's look wasn't quite appropriate for a 2 1/2 year old, so she decided instead to make him look like a 75 year old and give him a comb-over. Seriously, it was all goopy and depressing and I swear to you on my life the creepy comb-over made my 'lil guy look like a mini sociopath. So I laughed and said as much, and I made C cry, and I felt so bad I bought him a lollipop to clear the air.

As you can imagine, after this debacle I've decided that I've had enough of my child looking like Ellen or a sociopath. He's currently sitting next to me and fortunately only looks like an inbred freak. I can deal with this.

So kids, what are we doing tonight?

That's right! TAKING CADE TO GET A HAIRCUT!!!

In happier news, I'd like you to meet Too Cool for School. She's essentially the new and improved Not Fanny Pack. She's glorious, she really is. She not only holds medical equipment but secrets and amazingness as well. Many of you may be concerned that I'm not treating Not Fanny Pack with the respect she deserves after all she's done for me, and you may be right. But the relastionship is SO.OVER. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with her. Usually my discarded purses end up in a linen closet, and eventually they end up getting wizzed on by my cats - they luuuurve marking their territory on handbags and luggage! I dunno. Maybe I can find someone who will love her like Too Cool for School and I love each other. This love is deep and abiding and isn't something that is easy to come by. I may have to do some matchmaking for her.

TCFS + BRIE = TRUE LOVE

Okay, kids. I'm off to save my child from Disgusting Hairstyle. Wish me luck!

A Post-Christmas Update

Hello lovers! I missed you!

I've been totally sad because my internet has been down...it was a Christmas UN-miracle, for sure. I'm currently at the parentals, so I thought I'd mooch their internet connection off them.

I'm totally lame but this isn't really going to be a post-Christmas post. I have no pictures because I'm STILL always and forever lame, and I'm not really in the mood. But I do want to talk about it, just not feeling it tonight.

Well I survived surgery. Anesthesia is a beautiful thing, but coming off it and hurting
is not. Also, when I'm under anesthesia, I have a tendency to say embarrassing things that I don't remember like MERRY BOOBMAS and THIS IS FANTASTIC, JUST FANTASTIC and BOOOOOOBS and HOLD MY BOOB (when I really mean my hand). Apprently I have a thang for, well, boobs.

I kind of had a rough time with the painkillers. I was taking them as prescribed by my doc, but the dose was too strong for me or something, and it numbed up my muscles, especially my pee or whatever muscles, and I couldn't pee. Or number two, or even fart. I couldn't even feel when I needed to pee, and only realized this when I looked like I had a buddha belly and my tummy was hard as a rock and it was cramping and I realized holy suck it's been FOREVER since I last peed. And then I'd try to go, and I'd have to puuuush real hard like I was constipated or something, and this was just to pee. Seriously, strangest thing. Stupid low body weight. You do weird, weird things to me.

We're for suresies moving into the new pad on TUESDAY. Holy oh my moly I be so grateful!! The floorboards and celings are getting painted or something today, then tomorrow finishing touchups, then Tuesday the carpet. The kitchen won't be finished yet, we'll still in fact have no tile or appliances or cupboards or anything, but in the next week or so that should change. Kitchens are overrated anyway.

You wanna know what the most depressing thought around this time of year is? Well, most people are cool with snow before Christmas because it puts you in the holiday mood 'n stuff (personally I don't understand this offensive thinking, but whateva) but after the holidays, most are ready for the snow to suck it and the sun to come back out...but what some of us fail to realize that on the day after Christmas, it has in fact technically only been winter for 5 DAYS. Doesn't that just devastate you? On days when I'm feeling particularly tender and vulnerable, this makes me want to get a giant black garbage bag, find a nice comfy corner, climb in it, and hide for the rest of winter or FOREVER, depending on the intensity of vulnerability I'm feeling. Today is a black bag day.

Okay, well I'm off. I need to sew my kitchen curtains and do the finising touches on the aforementioned bedroom curtains that are passionately trying to break me of my desire to be a bad-A seamstress. They're such a burden!

Bye! Love you!

White Elephant Excellence

Last night was the annual Brown Family Christmas Party. This party alone may be one of the prevailing reasons I'm glad I was born into my family, for realsies! We have an excellent dinner over candle light with NO CHILDREN ALLOWED. We have a white elephant party where things get dirty and desperate, and then we close with us each talking about the love or gratitude we have for each other and for the many things we've been blessed with.




Now, I wasn't feeling all healthy n stuff, but I wasn't going to let a bad bug keep me away. I desperately tried to ignore the symptoms of The Flu or Whatever as the party went along, but by the time we were ready to leave my voice was quickly fading. So, today. LITERALLY no voice. Nothing. Only high squeaks that everybody finds highly annoying. But at least it came today and not yesterday. And at least I'm getting surgery tomorrow and at least I'll be blissfully anesthestitized to my lack of voice. I'm hoping I'll wake up and not only have a vital body part back but also my vocal chords. We'll see how things develop. Ooh, ooh, pictured above is me (SANS TUBE!) with the Big B-ster and my twin Brett and his beautiful wife Angela.

At any rate.

The white elephant was so so so excellent this year. Of course, you can always count on me and my sense of humor and lover of All Things Dirty to bring some interesting gifts. My favorite hall of famers in the past that I've thought up include

*bringing a Playboy, but not before I glued every page shut -- and not before flipping through every page, either. :)

*buying a GIANT package of Depends (which are expensive, btw) and attaching a very neatly written poem about my sister and insinuating she had some serious icontinence problems.

*this year I had taken a DISGUSTING pic of my sister M at the aforementioned Sister Pie Night. (although really, she's gorgeous and could never look disgusting. It was more, like, the angle she was in...? spread legs et al :) I blew up a 12x12 poster of it and rolled up that beauty as a gift. Unfortunately the person who opened it happened to be sitting right next to her so she started screaming and whimpering and very nearly ripped it up before it could get gloriously passed around the entire circle of the fam. She then pointed at me and said, "BRIE! YOU'RE ON MY RADAR."
Bring it on Sista. I will win. I always do. I will rip you apart with my vicious rhetoric. It'll sting.

Other gems this year included a glowing plaid bust in pastels

and a homemade pillow case that on one side said YES, TONIGHT
or
NOT TONIGHT
haha you can DEFINITELY tell that if a man had made that pillowcase, one side would have said YES TONIGHT and, on the flip side, TWICE TONIGHT. Love it!

One of my faveys also ended up being a TOTALLY NAST Barbie doll that my flippin sister MADE. She called it Shave with me Barbie and Tawn cut up hair and glued it all over this poor doll's arms, legs and pits. My bet is that it was pubes, but she swears we'll never know. I seriously threw up a little in my mouth when I saw it, but mostly I was jealous that I didn't think of it, haha. Pictured here is my sissy Brooke (left) and my sissy Tawny (right) and their hubby's. Tawn was the one who brought her pubes glued to a Barbie doll. I think. (Quick! Someone email me a pic of the hairy barbie so I can post it!)

I also ended up bringing Vinnie's Tamp Case which is, like, amazing. In fact, I loved it so much after I bought it that I opened it up during the party and preteneded I didn't bring it so that I could take it back home with me. Yay for knowing your flow. And making it cool again. (You may comprar this at shopgrun.com and be cool like me. If you dare.)

And then, because we have at least a small amount of class left in our blood lines, we ended the night with a serious moment or two. It was amazingness. This is why I remember that I actually love Christmas. In the end, it really is all about family and those you love.

Wish me luck with the whole going under the knife thingy tomorrow.

PS I am also ashamed to report that I'd actually like to have a period again so that I can use my tamp case. I'm thinking my T would say this is a very positive step in the right direction. Cycling is cool!
PPS Thanks Tawn for letting me yoink all these pics from your blog!

Do Not Be Fooled

Do not be fooled by this

Do not be fooled by his sweet little smile

or those blue blue eyes with those long blonde lashes

or that adorable left dimple

because this little boy can be evil

He can freak out when I want to change his diaper, a simple thing I've been doing oh, about SEVENTEEN times a day for the entire 2 1/2 years of his life. So what does he do when I'm trying to lay him down to get rid of the soiled thing?

HE SCREAMS AT ME AND YOINKS OUT MY TUBE COMPLETELY. ALL THE WAY. ALL GAZILLION INCHES OF IT.

SCREAMPISSEDTHATWASBADYOU'REINTIMEOUT!!!

And I was supposed to use it 24/7 all weekend in preparation for the surgery on Monday.

Suck face balls.

So, do not be fooled by him. I was, and I paid the price.

But damn I still love him. How could I not??!!

Bounce-Bounce Bouncing Around in my Brain

I’ve got plenty of blog topics lying around in the twisted recesses of my brain, but it’s too cold and I’m too tired to work real hard at it. So instead, I’m going to do one of those random numbered posts that jump from topic to topic. Enjoy. –if you can follow, it is.

1. I’m not sure when I’ll blog next. Maybe Sunday? Maybe next weekend? Because I’m getting surgery on Monday (just call me Leaky McGee!) I’ll probably be out of it for awhile. I’m not real great at posting on the weekends anyway, so sadly my dear lovers, you may have to go awhile before you get a post from the Briester.

2. We won’t be in our new home by Christmas. :( There’s just still too much to do. I’m disappointed, but we should be in by New Years’, so I’m trying to be oh so brave. I mostly just feel bad for my beasts of burden. I try to go to the new pad daily to feed them and love them and groom them and apologize for being a baaaaaaad mama, and they’re so sweet and act like they’re not mad at me and don’t seem to be holding a grudge at all, which is why animals rock my socks. They don’t judge, and they don’t grudge. (Um. Who else agrees that this should be the new motto, for, like, The Entire World??) Wish humans were as cool.

3. I have SO MUCH to do before Christmas. And because of the surgery on Monday, I have to get it ALL done this weekend. I’ve got two Christmas parties to traipse off to, several more Christmas gifts to comprar, grocery shopping to do, (if I don’t get a new 24 pack of Diet Coke immediately, Something Bad will happen!) etc, etc. It’s overwhelming. And, to make matters worse, go to number 4—

4. There’s a HELLACIOUS snow storm that’s hitting Sick Lake pretty much all weekend. What is it with our planet right now? I swear last winter it didn’t even snow till after Christmas, and now this winter already we’ve already gotten several snow storms, and there’s one scheduled to come in a couple of hours, and in my area of town they said to expect 8 INCHES JUST THIS AFTERNOON, and how am I supposed to get all my errands done this weekend in a HELLACIOUS snow storm? Also, the wind is really bad, and cars are getting blown over on the freeway, and I can hear it whistling through my office building, which brings me to number 5—

5. The wind is so awful right now. You see this Christmas tree, and behind it, the door? Well this was taken sitting at my desk just now with my camera phone; I can see the floor below. It’s actually pretty hilarious to watch people try to open the door with the wind. The door’s so heavy, and because the wind is blowing east, (the direction that makes the door especially difficult to open) by the time people struggle to open it, and literally almost fail, and get it open like 5 inches so they can squeeze in, I’m just tickled inside. (EXCEPT IT WASN’T FUNNY WHEN I WAS TRYING TO OPEN THE DOOR!) But then the door slams shut superhard, and we’re all betting here at the office that at some point that glass door is going to shatter. Now, this would be a good thing because a) I don’t have to pay for it and b) it would increase our chances of being able to go home early and c) it'd be fun to see a glass door shatter at some point in my life. Oh, and consequently, I watch that Christmas tree get precariously close to blowing over every time somebody opens the door, too. What do you think the chances are of me being able to leave early if the Christmas tree blows over? Eh. Not nearly as good as a GLASS DOOR SHATTERING. (Why do I wish for bad things to happen??)

6. Oh Dude! Some guy just got hit by the door and his coffee spilled on him! I actually kind of feel bad for him because he got all pissed and I heard a muffled cursing and then he looked around to see how many people saw him get hurt. I don’t think he saw me from my high vantage point. But seriously. I hope your head’s okay, bro.

7. My precious baby Whit lover is coming the 2nd week of January to Utah! I haven’t seen my BFF in FIVE MONTHS and I can’t wait until we can hug and like grope and stuff. I’m kidding. Really, we only hug.

8. I have a pretty nast cold that’s crept up on me. Seriously, my tube was like half-way out this morning from sinus sewage, and when I was blowing my nose like 39860509870293 times this morning, I swear to you on my life I could FEEL the snot deposits coming OUT OF MY CHEST via my throat and then out my nose. Can you feel shiz like that? Methinks you can!

9. Here’s another Bad Weather Gem ‘fer ya: tomorrow it’s only supposed to be like 15 degrees. It usually only creeps that low at night. But not tomorrow. I get to bundle up in the snow like this all afternoon while I shop. Not cool. So not cool.

10. Obviously, I hate the cold. And the snow. And wind. And especially wind that doesn’t even end up doing anything cool like maybe SHATTERING A WINDOW.

11. THERE IS A WARRANT OUT FOR MY HUSBAND'S ARREST from a stupid fricking partially un-paid parking ticket. As a result, and because of some anesthesia fees for my surgery, we need to come up with $500 BEFORE Christmas that WE DON'T HAVE. I LOVE Christmas.

11. I hope you all have a very merrymous wonderous Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever you do on the 25th. Just in case I don’t get to wish you this beforehand…

Festive Footwear Bringing Tidings of Comfort & Joy

Well lookee here! A pussy in a mitten! Merry Christmas from my holiday socks to your’s!

Guuuuuuys, I’m actually starting to get into the Christmas Spirit! How totally freakishly but oh so awesomely scrumtrulescent! FM 100 plays Christmas music 24/7, and I’m really excited for Big B and ‘Lil C to see their gifts, and there’s yummy treats and Christmas lights and freaky potential pedophile Santa’s in the mall. Less work, more play…this ain’t so bad. I was being a GIANT bah humbugger, but I’ll try to be festive now. TRY. I can’t promise anything. You never know when a bad mood is going to hit.

Got another tube inquiry yesterday, though it wasn’t very original – just the regular ‘ol “Do you have cancer?” spiel. Seriously, a turkey sandwich can do better than that. As stupid as Sinus Infection Tool was, at least he was original. That counts for something!

Any Sick Lakers out there dying to help paint this weekend? Lemme know, we need help!

Affirmations are ROUGH, Part II

So the M-ster wasn't surprised by my sarcastic and controversial affirmations. And I didn't offend her either, which was a superawesome plus. I thought the Red Robin/orgy one might've done her in, been a little inappropriate. But thankfully she seems to more or less tolerate me in small does (in two 60 minute sessions weekly, haha).

She re-assigned me, though. I have to do 10 more affirmations. Specifically, about my identity. Maybe? I think? Can you have affirmations about something you're not even sure you have? Can my affirmations be

1. I wish I had an identity
2. My identity will be beautiful no matter its size
3. An identity is an idea or belief and not actually physical matter, so procuring one will not actually make me gain weight.
4. I
5. don't
6. like
7. this
8. assignment.
9. Affirmations
10. SUCK.

But seriously, I don't get it. According to Wikipedia, an affirmation is

a declaration that something is true

But according to the Briectionary, an affirmation is

a declaration that I'm an idiot because though I am smart and relatively sane, I cannot figure out what I'm supposed to say.

Well, unless I crack (Say crack again. CRACK.) a few dirty jokes, throw in the word 'lame,' and call it a day.

HELP!!!!

I need ten. First ten commenters each give me one. GO!!! I need this by tomorrow at 11 am. 19 hours and counting, people!

DOOSH

Hello lovers! How was your weekend? Mine was spent sewing at the madre’s this weekend. I know I know, I can be a party animal. It got a leetle intense.

Seamstresses know how to GET.IT.ON.

I’m almost done though. As a novice bad-A seamstress, I SERIOUSLYOHMYGOODNESSTOTALLYSERIOUSLY underestimated the complexity of curtains. And no, they aren’t just rectangles. I put borders and buttons and loops on them. I did cool things, un-novice-like things. And I definitely paid the price! I just need to head to the craft store today to buy some more ribbon and a fabric marker and I can be done in an hour or two. But, I’m not really done because I’m pretty much in CURTAIN HELL and still need to sew some for the office and kitchen. I’d like to thank all the little people who got me to where I am now. Namely, my niece who I call in an un-intelligible babbling panic while at the fabric store and ruin her Friday night by asking her to work her math magic and figure out how many yards of fabric I need, and also my mom who patiently told me over and over, IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S THE BOBBIN. Thanks my peeps! I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.

It’s totally snowing in the good ‘ol Sick Lake today. This morning it was just a blizzard. Blizzards are BAD because not only do they halt up traffic and thus give me road rage, but they turn my fingernails purple and the veins in my feet purple but it also triggers a blizzard inside me. A blizzard of bad, sad, cold things. I hate the snow. I’m not dreaming of a white Christmas. I’d love to live in LA and have a palm tree for a Christmas tree. My heart is blizzarding snow. Seriously. Sad for me!

All of the sheet rock is put up in our home. We now have walls!! I had this weird paranoia thing going, and I was superduper concerned that my beautiful beasts of burden were going to get sheet rocked into our walls. Big B was patient and tried to explain that our giant kitty lovers who have about a waist size of a good 12 inches or so could in NO WAY fit into the 4 inch opening, but I was sure that my cat’s weight issues were not going to get in the way of their ghastly demise. Fortunately though all the walls are up and all the fluffy lovey dovey jewels are present and accounted for!

You know what’s a weird word? DOUCHE. This is because it seems like it should be spelled DOOSH, but if you spell it that way, you are, in fact, a DOUCHE. What is it, like, French? I'm a Spanish girl. I do not know these things!

I’m scheduled for some outpatient surgery next Monday. Con: semi on bed-rest during the holidays and also juuuust high enough on painkillers that I’ll either once again ask my bro-in-law to go on a walk with me at midnight because my husband’s MEAN or ask everybody, once again, if I’m acting weird and I hope I’m not and I’m so embarrassed guys I just think I’m high am I doing anything weird I’m so sorry!

Pro: painkillers. Although, painkillers aren’t nearly as fun when you ACTUALLY need them, haha.

Okay, time to gosies. I have important, un-DOOSHish things to do. Specifically, I can’t stop saying DOOSHish over and over in my head, and it’s difficult to do anything while repeating that in your head because it turns you into a moron.

Great. CURTAIN HELL, blizzards, and DOOSHish. This day ain’t turnin’ out so great…

PS: Oh, and guys. I think me and Not Fanny Pack are breaking up. She makes me feel like a man! I need a medical device holder that makes me feel feminine! Big B assures me that NO STRAIGHT MAN would be caught dead with her slung over his shoulder, but still. I just don't think it's going to work out. TTYN, Not Fanny Pack. You're just not the right fit. :(

The STUPIDEST Tube Inquiry to Date

Oooh ooh frustration to the MAX!! Some guy at work (again, whom I don’t know, was meeting for the first time) saw me, and, like, stared at me like I was a juicy porno, then said,

SO, DO YOU HAVE A SINUS INFECTION OR SOMETHING??

I did nervous tube embarrassment diarrhea rumblings in my tummy then, but didn’t even deem him a glance. I stayed staring straight ahead, gave this dark chuckle that seemed to simultaneously say

I HATE YOU
YOU ARE STUPID and LAME and CREEPILY CURIOUS.
YOU DON’T LOOK GOOD IN BLUE.
REALLY? A SINUS INFECTION?

And said, simply, NO.

No explanations. No fumbling convo in which I tell him I have some sort of disease that makes me shat in a bag. Nothing. Just a NO.

And I knew he felt stupid.
And I was glad.

I mean. Truly. A sinus infection? That’s a new one. An unfortunate new one.

Really. Who asks someone this who not only do they not know, but whom they’ve never met and will probably never see again? What is it about me that makes people think they can ask me whatever the hell they want? Do I have a sign on my person that says 20 QUESTIONS? Or maybe, ASK ME, I’M EASY?

I am not easy. Do not ask me.
Do not pass go, DO NOT collect $100!

Christmas, Sewing, & Patrick is a Wiener

I cannot believe that Christmas is less than two weeks away. I remember as a wee child thinking that the month of December went by so s l o w l y, cuz I wanted and craved and needed my presents and goodies, but as an adult who’s supposed to be The One buying all the gifts and wrapping them and decorating and baking and caroling and holiday cheering, it goes by devastatingly fast. This year I have done zero festivizing, zero baking, but that’s no surprise – zero decorating (methinks you need a house to do that!) and zero everything else except some shopping, but most of it has been MERRY CHRISTMAS TO BRIE FROM BRIE, which makes me feel selfish, but Big B doesn’t really like shopping for me anyway. So yeah. I have a lot to do.

The best Christmas miracle in the whole world though that we’re theeeeenking may actually come true is that we’ll be moving into the renovated house on Christmas Eve! It’ll be a classic story: Meth House Turned Magnificent. Stay tuned for that gem.

Last night we went and picked out carpet and tile and cupboards oh my. Think Earth tones meet bright splashes of color meets juvenile interior decorator. I’M SO EXCITED!!! I should really post some pics of the new pad. I do not do this because I can’t find my camera but mostly because I am a reject.

Well, I’m sorry to report that the Cade Man now seems to be infatuated with Spongebob SquarePants, (Which, when I’m in a rush, always call SQUAREBOB SQUASHPANTS.) Now, it’s not the sponge himself that makes me so stressed, but his BFF, Patrick. I hate Patrick because he looks like a wiener. A wiener in board shorts, and it makes me angry that I have to watch him play all innocent yet superdupercreepy at the same time. And it makes me feel uncomfy. And hollow. What is it with kid’s cartoons? I’ve blogged about this before. I have either a seriously dirty mind that wallows in the gutter or there are some SERIOUS adult innuendos that are being weaseled into our childrens’ (and my own) brains on a semi freaking daily basis. Maybe this is why I turned out this way. I always wondered!


I was thinking last night that it’s time for a SERIOUS update about my sosmallyetsoBIG baby man. I’d do it now, except I don’t have pictures, and what’s a proper update without some proper pictures? I’m definitely letting my picture taking and posting efforts slip through the cracks. (Say crack again. CRACK.) At any rate, I thought I'd post this pic I took with my phone. The other day I turned to look at him in the car and he was wearing my hat. He wouldn't take it off, and I was trying not to stress that my really chic and stylish and expensive hat was being worn by dirty baby hair, but really, getting this jewel of a kodak moment made it all worth it. :)

Hope you all have a lovely weekend. I’m going to be at my mom’s finishing my curtains that are trying desperately to be the demise of me. I also have to comprar more fabric and sew more curtains for the giant window in the family room. If you need me, you can dial
1-800-I’m a seamstress, bitches!
I’ll be around.

PS Moderating comments BLOWS. I’m so already over it. I’m already breaking one of my own rules, but I can do that because it’s my blog, haha. But behave yourselves, please, and I won’t have to resume this taxing endeavor. :)

My Blog, My Rules

This is my blog. I started it over a year ago as a way to escape, to meet new people, and to develop my writing style. For so long, I looked forward to blogging everyday. It made me happy.

It doesn’t make me happy anymore. There’s too much drama going on in Blog Land right now and it seriously BLOWS.

I have a very sarcastic sense of humor. I like to make fun of myself, poke fun at ED. But that DOES NOT make me any less motivated to recover than the next person. Humor is how I get through the sucky stuff. I’m on a meal plan and am gaining weight consistently every week. I’m making progress, and if my journey to recovery is taking too long or if you find it too frustrating, or if the sense of humor I approach it with too offending, then don’t read my blog. Seriously.

Please. Don’t take this humor, this outlet away from me. If I make a joke that you don’t think is funny, then don’t read it. But don’t judge me for it. We all deal with things differently, approach recovery and life differently, and that’s okay. I would never judge you for it and I would expect the same respect in return. This week as I set my blog private from EVERYBODY I seriously contemplated trashing Blogxygen, just being done. But I cried. I cried and cried and cried because I love my blog and the people I've met so much...I love what I've created and how it's changed me (and, perhaps, changed, motivated others...) and made me happier. I don't want to lose it, but some things have to change.

I want to blog and to feel the way I used to when I did it…that I was using a creative outlet to forget about ED for awhile, I felt happy, I felt a release. Now? Now I feel like I spend a lot of my time trying to defend myself to some of you. I don’t want to feel attacked on my own blog. I don’t want to feel less than, or be afraid of what some of you may comment, when in reality feels pretty hypocritical. I don’t want to change my blog to appease some of my readers. For so long I changed who I was so I could be acceptable and liked. I’ve finally gotten to a point where I just DON’T FREAKING CARE. I’m not going to squelch my personality or approach to life so that I can walk delicately around your feelings. I’m done hiding. This is me. So deal.

NEW BLOG RULES:
1. All comments will now be moderated.
2. I haven’t decided if I’m even going to discuss my ED at all anymore – negative OR positive, that way maybe I can avoid less hypocritical comments and anger on both sides.
3. If you can’t take a joke you should seriously consider not reading my blog. If my “methods” of recovery are offensive to you, I suggest you read elsewhere. I’ve considered making my blog private but I know there are many readers out there who have occasionally (and mostly anonymously) sent me emails thanking me for my blog and for my optimistic and cheerful outlook on recovery. I truly feel like I might be helping some people, and I don’t want to set it private and only invite the ones I know who read it. It’s much easier to ask those who have a problem with me to stop reading. I mean it.
4. I will no longer apologize for any of this anymore. You won’t hear one more “I’m sorry.” Because I’m not. This is me, take it or leave it.

No More ED Talk

I hate to write this post, because I’m fully aware it makes me seem like a whiny over-sensitive brat. But I’m going to anyway.

This is my blog. Those of you who consistently read it know that I get through life with humor. I make fun of myself. I poke fun at my eating disorder. This doesn’t make me “sicker” than the next anorexic, or less in recovery. It’s just how I deal. I’ve done the whole “serious” side of recovery, and while I don’t doubt that it works for 95% of the people out there, for me, I was actually much, much sicker than I am now because I was taking myself and the disorder waaaaaay too seriously. I took myself and what I was going through too far – I dwelled far too much on it. There’s a difference between working through stuff and just plain old getting stuck – and I was doing the latter.

I post pretty much whatever strikes my fancy in a day, which can vacillate between ED stuff, sista love, silly experiences, and even serious posts. Because I have a feeding tube right now, naturally that’s taking up a huge part of my brain and mental and emotional energy, so of course it’s going to come up on my blog a lot because it’s on my brain quite a bit. Naturally.

But lately I’m feeling almost…attacked with the comments. And that’s me being too sensitive, I’m sure. I don’t want people to tell me that my life could just be so amazing if I recover. I don’t need a stern talking to, or your pity or sadness on my behalf. And to be honest some of it feels hypocritical.

It’s definitely not everybody, and even if you are one of the “culprits,” I know you mean no harm – in fact, I’m sure the exact opposite. But if you truly do have my best interest at heart, I believe you could more kindly phrase your good intentions, say, like Z does. Please, either that, or know that not commenting on my blog would be more beneficial to me than yet another sermon about recovery. I WANT to recover. But my blog is about joking and getting away from the serious stuff, not dwelling on it and certainly not feeling like an ass on my own blog.

I have a feeding tube, yes, but I EAT. I know I made an affirmation about pumpkin bread or banana bread or whatever the hell it was but that’s what it was – A JOKE. Yesterday I had two pieces at my sister’s house.

I’m using the tube everyday. I’m following my meal plan. I’m gaining weight weekly. And I’ve hired a treatment team to talk to me and help me with my recovery.

I’ve never considered this a strictly ED blog or anything, but it’s certainly mentioned. But not anymore. No more mentions of it. That way I won’t unintentionally summon unhelpful comments, and in turn I won’t have to be hurt and ticked by some of your comments. (That I honestly know were meant with good intentions. I'm so lame. I'm sorry I suck.)

Again, it’s not even close to being the majority of you. And I’m sure it’s not you, it’s me. I’m just trying to be honest, here. And I’ll probably regret this post then set my blog to private or something but whatever. I’m just going to publish it anyway.

Affirmations are ROUGH

M assigned me to write 10 affirmations about food or my body or whatever. I've been having quite the stressful time coming up with them guys. Here's what I came up with, but the Big B-ster said I might want to change a few. What do you think? Suggestions are welcome as I would like to avoid offending my therapist.

1. Pie = pleasure NOT pudgy
2. I like my curves. Sometimes I even turn myself on.
3. Drinking water = hydration = better brain function = LESS NERVOUS BREAKDOWNS.
4. If I think having a tube is bad, it could be much, much worse. I could be a leper. Or have Gonnorrhea. OR be a Leprous Gonnorhean.
5. Soda is devil juice that makes my bones sad and weak.
6. It's been said that Red Robin fries are orgasmic. Let go of the fear. Join the orgy.
7. Skinny isn't EVERYTHING. Money is.
8. Eating pumpkin chocolate chip bread makes me happy. Not quite as happy as NOT eating it, but still.
9. Tubification is a PERFECTLY NORMAL rite of passage that everybody goes through. I'm not the freak I think I am.
10. I choose life because I'd hate to miss out on next week's all new Gossip Girl.

Eh?

Docalicious Revealed

Remember Docalicious? Well, after EXTENSIVE research, I’ve finally found a pic of him online! And, well, since I’m big on the whole privacy thing, just throwing out a disclaimer that his face isn’t actually a yellow cloudy mess (that looks suspiciously like Pee Air) in real life. And he’s not Edward Cullen, either, but he’s CLOSE. I don’t want to get sued by any, like, copyright laws. Ooh, doesn’t he have some smoldering good looks? He makes my teeth sweat.

PS Can you copyright your face? In any case, I’m not taking any chances.
PPS I don’t want to share his face anyway. Sometimes I can be really selfish.
PPPS I am now shunning myself for putting Edward’s face on my Docalicious.
I am humiliated by my childish actions.
But I find him hot.
I find him glorious.
He is a delicious piece of man meat.
I'm so lame.
I will now commence to hang my head in shame.
hangheadsadbad

Pee Air

It’s no secret that I’ve got myself some phobias. ISSUES, if you will. I don’t keep it a secret from you, my dear readers, and I’m completely beyond the point of being humiliated by the fact I’m mentally ill with family and close friends, and I CERTAINLY can no longer hide it from strangers due to Tube Face and Not Fanny Pack. Like, when people look at me funny, and they do a double and sometimes even triple take, and, it, like, stings for a minute, but then I forget about it (or perhaps repress it?) and go on with my day.

My phobia(s): gaining weight, eating too much, feeling too full, lalala, are familiar. Comfortable. As recognizable as the fact that the sky is blue and that Danny DeVito is an alien. And, well, yeah, I’ve got some other weird things I freak out about, I mean, everyone does. It’s entirely normal for people to have their special little OCD’s. Like, Racher can’t put her face in public pool water. My sister has “movie jeans” that she wears to movies and ONLY to movies to avoid getting the seat germs on her other pants. Never mind her other jeans are just as germy as the movie ones. But in her mind, it makes sense. My brother doesn’t like crumbs. Especially when you’re eating chips on his bed and you get crumbs on the blanket and he almost breaks your arm he’s so pissed. But now I'm regressing into past childhood pain so I MUST move on. See, so. I’m just saying, we’ve all got our kinks.

But, well, a couple of mine are getting worse. Exponentially worse, I’d say. I’ve always had a thing with bathrooms, which is really common, only what I freak out about while in the bathroom is probably different from the greater public’s bathroom phobias. I have issues with Pee Air. I Always have, probably always will. Like, if I’m showering, Big B has learned that he’s certainly got another thing coming if he thinks he can saunter in and pee while I’m showering. If he does this, then his Pee Air will waft into the shower and stick to my skin. Bran has also learned that if he has to go to the bathroom, to be polite and for the sake of our marriage, he’ll ask me if I need to go first, because he’s learned the hard way that if he goes when I need to go and he doesn’t let me go first, bad things happen. Unmentionable things. Pee Airish things.

Well, the Pee Air thing is getting worse. Way worse. It’s getting to a point where I don’t want to go into my bathroom AT ALL because of the Pee Air everywhere. And it’s not like this is random, strange Pee Air. This is FAMILY Pee Air. But for some reason, I swear it makes it worse. I just don’t know what to do. Even my OWN Pee Air freaks me out. Like, how is Bran okay with going to the bathroom right after me? Isn’t he worried about my Pee Air attacking him, all my little urine-y toxins seeping into his pores? He swears I’m insane, but I maintain HE is for not taking precautions against the ghastly Pee Air. I swear it’s going to take over the world. Death by Pee Air. How undignified is that??

Pee Air. It’s a real thing.
It’s a real problem.

But another new phobia I seem to be experiencing is for realsies more scary, so be tender with me. I’m starting to think that people are going to shoot me. I can think afterward when I (thankfully) DIDN’T get shot that I was being ridiculous and insane, but while I’m sure someone is about to shoot me, I fill with adrenaline and start shaking and will even run or walk faster to get away from the “shooter.” The last time this occurred I was walking out of a restaurant with my mom. It was dark, and some hoodlum was unlocking his bike. And that was it. I KNEW he was going to shoot me. I was carrying Cade, and I didn’t want him to get shot too, so I put him between myself and the hoodlum bike-riding shooter and booked it to the car. After we started driving, I asked my mom if she thought that guy seemed suspicious, and I told her we had almost DIED. DEATH BY SHOTGUN. And she just looked at me bewildered and like she almost just hadn’t LOST HER DAUGHTER.

But really. Do I seriously have to add paranoia to the long list of neuroses? Why is this happening? Do I need medication or should I just get shot and then tell everyone I TOLD YOU SO?

Also, Pee Air might be deadly. At this point, I'm entirely convinced. Just throwing out a friendly warning because I care about you. That's the kind of person I am. A non-shooting, non-wanting-to-pass-on-the-pee-air-epidemic type person. I'm one in a million!

Celiac Disease: the New Eating Disorder?

Last night The Big B-ster and I were talking with a new neighbor.* Since my problems are quite obvious, (coughtoothinandhaveatubecough) we eventually got around to talking about me and my “medical problems.” After Brandon essentially told him I was trying to recover from anorexia, he more or less said that his wife had an eating disorder too.

Oh? Which one? Bulimia, anorexia, EDNOS, COE?

Nah, none of those.

She has Celiac Disease.

I, like, seriously didn’t know what to say. Should I laugh? Nod sympathetically and murmur that I’m so glad I don’t have “that one?” Tell him he didn’t know what the H bomb he was talking about?

While those who suffer with Celiac do indeed have to go through a lot and it’s probably totally BALLS, it’s just not the same thing, obviously, I mean HELLO! My niece and 2 uncles have the disease, and pretty sure they wouldn't classify themselves as being mentally ill, at least not in this respect, haha. He went on and on about how she can’t have gluten. He asked me if I knew what Celiac was, and I replied that I indeed knew what it was, and then added under my breath that I sure as hell knew it WASN’T an eating disorder.

He then started asking me if I could eat chocolate, or protein. WTF? Really? Are you really the last person on the planet who doesn’t know what anorexia is?

I actually found it kind of refreshing!!

But as soon as I had myself this ohsofun little convo, I texted my niece and told her that my neighbor* says she has an eating disorder. She got all freaked out and paranoid and wanted to know why I was talking about her behind her back, and why I was telling other people she had an eating disorder when she in fact DOES NOT. Loves it, good times, good times!

And watch out all you Celiacsters, you may just find yourselves in the DSM V soon…

*Just protecting the privacy of the "neighbor." Lots ‘o peeps read my blog. I know I’m being cryptic. But deal, okay? Thanks and LOVE YOU!

MishContractsStupidPeopleEtcMash

I’m sorry my blog sucks lately guys. But seeing as I don’t have a house and am not regularly on a computer, it makes posting, but especially posting really cool things superduper hard. I’m so lame.

Well, my life is kind of like a major suckfest right now. I’m a tubalicious pumping babe for 16 hours a day, and my stupid pump thingy is in Not Fanny Pack, and like every 10 minutes the pump starts beeping at me and practically yelling and across its screen it says NO FOOD because the tube gets kinked (I like that word!) and I find it hilariously ironic and I frantically try to get it to shut up and get it fixed and my heart starts racing and I start sweating and I hate everybody and it alerts The Entire World that I am indeed one of those weird people that have to cart medical equipment around. It’s awesome. It’s like I carry around my own personal hater. It hates me.

I gained weight on Monday when I saw the D though, which is excellent. (At least, I think.) (Er, I’m trying to think.) (thinkthinkthinkiloveitiloveitiloveit) It’s good though because I am now under a CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT. I really like to say CONTRACTUAL, it makes me feel important. Except actually it just makes me MAD, since if I do anything wrong then I’m FIRED. But I’m tubing and eating tons so yay for life! (UM. WHO JUST HAD A FREAKING MAPLE BAR FOR BREAKFAST? ME!!) (WHY DO I LIKE CAPS SO MUCH IN THIS POST? I DON’T KNOW.)

I’m thinking about living with the madre for awhile. All I do is like cry and moan and lie around on the floor and stuff. Why not do it at my mom’s, I say? Things are just so hard right now, guys. I’m so lamely pathetic. All I do is lament and wail and moan. I do these things even though I am not living in biblical times.

Also, I’m thinking about doing brain wave thingies. Does anyone have experience with this? Brain mapping/imaging/harmonizing or whateva? My T is recommending it HIGHLY. And I’m thinking, why not? Nothing else works; I don’t have much to lose. And, don’t worry. Nobody’s going to be like cutting anything out of there or anything. Just looking at the brain wavage and making it better. Or something.

OMG YOU GUYS. I am so EMBARRASSED. Seriously, my cheeks are a flamin’ right now. People SUCK. I just got one of the most outright and blunt queries about my tube I’ve EVER gotten. Seriously, it happened, like, only minutes ago. Some guy came into my work, doesn’t know me, I’ve never seen him, he’s never seen me, lalala, and without even saying hi or telling me why he’s even here, he looks right at me and asks
WHAT’S THAT FOR?
And I said, What’s what for?
THAT THING IN YOUR NOSE
(I hate you and hope you die.) Oh…I just have….a…problem with keeping weight on…
HUH? WHAT?
(are you kidding me you a-hole?) Yeah, I just have a hard time......... this helps supplement me for nutrients and helps me gain weight......
THAT IS SO COOL!
(Balls.) No, not really.
WELL, NO, I MEAN, IT’S JUST SO COOL THAT THEY HAVE THAT KIND OF TECHNOLOGY.
(I hate you and you are a very hairy man.) Uh huh. Yeah, I guess…
Awkward pause full of seething hatred on my part—
WELL, NICE TO MEET YOU.
(I didn’t even meet you. I don’t like you. You’re gross. Go away.) Yeah, you too…

SERIOUSLY. Who has that freaking kind of audacity? I’m not a big blusher, but seriously guys, I could feel the heat creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. I feel so sorry for myself. I should ease the pain and humiliation by maybe like buying myself something today. Maybe a Phantom of the Opera mask that will hide the tube side? I don’t know. I may need to start getting creative when there’s GIANT JERKS who ask stupid and inappropriate questions. Me no likey. I want to whimper.

Oh, and go to my lovely sister T’s blog for this amazing post. She said a lot about my mom and sisters that I’m usually too sarcastic to take the time to write. She’s such a sweetheart, though the pic she posted of me is HORRIBLE and my bangs look DISGUSTING. Definitely not my finest moment. But love ya sis and thanks for what you wrote.

I'm going to go wail and moan and lament and whimper in the bathroom now.

And then my tube is going to yell at me.

And I will hang my head in shame.

"Teddy Boy"

RULES:
1. Put Your iTunes/Windows Media Player/ETC on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.
5. Put this on your journal or blog or whatevs.

.1) If someone says, "Is this okay?" you say:
"Candy" (Hmmm)
2) How would you describe yourself?"The Background" (Wow. So telling.)
3) What do you like in a girl/guy? "they do, they don’t" (do or don’t do what, pray tell? i hope it isn't some secret dirty business.)
4) How do you feel today?"I don’t wanna know” (so true. Denial rules.)
5) What is your life's purpose?"Time to Waste” (haha I’m such a lazy slut!)
6) What is your motto?"Still Alive” (Wow. It sure is my motto today for sure.)
7) What do you friends think of you?"The Velvet Glove.” (you know, I get called that ALL.THE.TIME.)
8) What do you think of your parents?"Letting Go” (ohsoapt. Apparently I have an attachment disorder to mi madre.)
9) What do you think about very often?"sugar, we’re going down.” (oh, that was poetic. yesssss)10) What is 2+2? "the end” (well it’s at least the end of my math education for sure, haha. That’s pretty much the extent of my math abilities anyway.)
11) What do you think of your best friend?"Clavicle” (Okay, well. My W sure DOES have a damn fine clavicle!)
12) What do you think of the person you like?"joy to the world.” (oh what a for special moment! My hubster certainly brings joy to MY world.)
13) What is your life story?
"perhaps, perhaps, perhaps” (Strangely . . . true. So many perhaps’s, so many what could have beens, lalalalala . . . )
14) What do you want to be when you grow up?"time on your hands.” Geez. This survey is making me seem like a lazy a-hole. Although, I’m cool with that.
15) What do you think of when you see the person you like? “cuff link.” Of course. Makes PERFECT sense.
16) What will you dance to at your wedding?" "gently raise the sacred strain.” Gross. And NO we didn’t dance to that at the wedding. Why does this seem hella dirty to me?!
17) What will they play at your funeral?“laughing” this one kinda makes me sad, but it’s appropriate. I like to laugh, and I like to make other people laugh. Just don’t laugh at me cuz I’m dead. That would sting.
18) What is your hobby/interest?“hello goodbye” wow this is perfect. Remember my recent post about being passionate about something then dropping it? Eerily true, loves it!
19) What is your biggest fear? “the other way” I’m thinking this is deep.
20) What is your biggest secret?"fallen stars forgotten.” (lame. I need to get some new songs on the ipod!)
21) What do you think of your friends?"Martha my dear” (this would make sense if I actually had a friend name Martha. Any secret readers out there with that name?)
22) What song would you play during your first kiss?"you’re my best friend." (Wait, what? Creepy. I don’t swing that way.)
23) What will you post this as?"teddy boy”

On the Benefits of Being a Tube Face

I get free things. Usually they’re not like materialistic things, which is a total bummer, but like really sympathetic and pitying and jaw-dropping looks. The jaw-droppers are usually children who I want to call LITTLE JERKS, but refrain. But today. Not today. Today I received something else:

The FedEx Guy where I work just gave me a, and I quote, “really nice and expensive and cool” FedEx pen. He says he never gives them away, and that I should hide it so nobody sees it because they’ll “certainly want to steal it.” I think he felt bad for me when he saw my tube. Pretty sure he thinks I have cancer.

So, con of the day: I’m strapped to a tube and pump.

But a pro? I freaking got a pen. A really nice and expensive and cool pen.

But I swear, if I even one more little kid stares at me and asks his mom loudly Mommy what’s in that lady’s nose??? I’ll draw a mustache and pirate eye patch on them and then write SMELLY PIRATE HOOKER on their forehead with my really nice and expensive and cool pen. And then I will call them a LITTLE JERK. And I will not feel sorry. Not one bit.