Anxiety Me No LIkey

Hey Kids, today’s no fun. I’m sitting here on my break at work and am wondering why I’m swimming laps around the anxiety pool. Work was so crazy earlier, and I was freaking out and muttering to myself and trying to figure it all out…and I didn’t – or maybe I did? – But now that the too much drama for your mama has passed, I still can’t calm down. I totally need to take A Pill, but if I do I’ll probably fall asleep at my desk and drool all over my keyboard and maybe even get the letter V stuck to my face or something. And since I don’t want my coworkers to know I’m A FREAK I’ll just suffer in silence. Well, almost silence. I can’t quite stop the muttering. And sometimes I’m even doing it in a British accent which simultaneously makes me feel a leeettle better but also classier. Muttering in Spanish creates the same phenomenon. I highly recommend.

So what do I do? I think I’ve got a stress ball and a dart board hanging around here somewhere, I mean they’re totally inter-office staples. Just one of the perks of working for a corporation. They know the chances of going insane are pretty high so instead of giving you a raise they buy you fun little toys with the companies name plastered all over it. But shutup I love my new white board they gave me!

I don’t even know anything anymore. This post is all over the place and so is my head. I want some kettle chips from the vending machine but I only have .33 cents in change. I’d go panhandle the rest of what I need, but I’m freaking out too much to do the math. Maybe I should whore myself for it. The World hates me.

So, I obviously need to calm down, you folks are witnessing a breakdown here. Waitsies I totally know what to do:

Ah. I feel better. My little boy can always do that for me.
And so can my creepy husband.

So, the From Behind Bars post is coming to you shortly. Monday, I think.

Hope you’re having a less stressful day than I am. And if not, I’ve got an extra stress ball hanging around here…and also a creepy voodoo clown doll.
Which is totally another story.
See? I can’t stop my head. My crazy thoughts.
Weenie.
SecretStealerPants.
Construction orange.
Cat Porn.

Quick! I need a black bag!

Kidneys + Going Backsies = LAME

Only a few hours left to vote on the poll, folks! And to my supreme pleasure, it looks like the majority want to know about that one time I farted in Honesty Group. I can’t wait to share this gem with you, it’s for realsies a goodie!

Onto other news:

Who else thinks it’s totally lame that Richard Batista wants the kidney he gave to his wife back? Like, how does that work? They take it out of her and put it back in him? So, she dies and he’s got an extra? Sounds like a greedy little bastard. He said that he wanted it back because they’re getting a divorce because she cheated on him, and that has caused him “deep pain,” which absolutely I believe. But wouldn’t he be in even more “deep pain” if they opened him up and stuffed the kidney back in? Or what is he going to do? Donate it to charity? Or maybe sell it on the Black Market? What a freak. And really, he doesn’t technically want it back. He instead just wants $1.5 million for it. That’s all. No biggie.

I mean, you can’t just be an Indian giver with stuff like that. I heard an example on AM radio today. Like, what if you went back to Red Cross where you donated your blood and asked for your unit of donated blood back? And what if you said you didn’t want just any unit, but you’re exact unit? Like, please put back the platelets and the plasma and infuse it back into me p to the ronto! I mean this is all just insane. Who, when in a divorce settlement, asks for their kidney back? It’s like, “I’d like the dog, my grandmother’s locket, and oh wait my kidney back. You can keep everything else.” I honestly can’t wrap my mind around it and I can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. So instead, I did neither. I, like, roared. Roaring for humans is not what lions and tigers do, but laughing REALLY HARD. There’s a diff.

Anyway, I hope the wife gets to keep her kidney even if she did cheat on him. Ludicrous. What is our world coming to?!

Onto other news, I morphed into a man for about 2 seconds this morning. See, I’m having some phlegm issues. Reaaaaaaaaal bad. My allergies make everything so complicated. I can’t just get a regular cold, my asthma makes it go to my lungs then my chest and I cough and have post nasal drip and I blow my nose 17 plus a billion times a day and it’s all red and hurts and there’s phlegm rattling around down there. So this morning I was hacking up what felt like my ribs, when I coughed up some phlegm. We all do this, right folks? Only most swallow it. I decided to spit it out in a bucket in the bedroom. The bucket happened to be there, and I didn’t want it in my mouth any longer, and walking another 1.5 seconds to the sink was unthinkable. Brandon looked at me, like, what are you doing, YOU MAN? Totally bewildered him. I think I just spit my first logie. But I pronounce it like loogie, because it sounds less like a private part and more lady-like. Anyway, it was weird. I’m not sure if I want to try it again. Is this acceptable?

Oh, and our master closet is almost finished, I’ll post pics soon. It’s so big; I’ve got so many shelves and cubbies, I can put all my clothes in them but also my special secrets and treasures. It’s amazing!!

Oh, and another thing. Does anybody know much about blogged.com? I got an email from the editor yesterday saying she had reviewed my blog, and it was an honor I had recieved a score of 7.2 'n stuff, (hence the link on my sidebar) so I was all puffed up with pride, but then I went to the webiste and there are like 200 blogs ranked higher than mine, haha. Whateva. How did they even find my blog?

Hope you all have a great day! Don’t be an Indian giver today either, because it’s National Indian Givers Are Lame Day.
Oh, and if anybody needs a kidney, I’ll totally sacrifice. Just don’t mess with me, otherwise I’ll give you my left one, and you don’t want my left one because it’s the one that always has the UTI infections ‘n stuff. And then maybe I’ll even hack my phlegm on you…?
I’m just saying.

[EDIT: I just now realized that the term "indian giver" is racist. I honestly and truly did not mean it in that way. I remember as a kid saying that...but not knowing what it meant. Truthfully I still don't know the story behind where that term came from, I only know that it means "taking things back." I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to offend anyone and meant no harm.]

Hummus my Bummus

When I saw the D on Monday, she asked to look through my food journal – which I absolutely abhore, btw, who wants to list all the foods they’ve eaten in a day and start shrieking out about the cals they’ve eaten? –- and she was noticeably impressed that I was eating more, but noticeably deeeestressed because I seem to be lacking an invite to the protein party. So she was giving me suggestions of ways I could get protein sans furry creatures, and one of them was hummus.
HUMMUS?!
I thought only therapists and new-agers ate that stuff, plus I’m not Greek. So anyway she was telling me it was really yummy and had protein and could be eaten with a variety of things. So I went and bought the brand she suggested and only dared open it last night while I was watching the oh so amazing premiere of the Biggest Loser. Jillian can biggest MY loser any day. She’s totally georg and I could probably make love to her eyebrows. EEEks. Annnnywaaaay,…

So I tried it, and initially like eeewy’d out because all I could taste was creamy white lemonity stuff. But I gave it another try…and liked it! So I began gleefully noshing on my hummus with some Triscuits, thinking maybe I am a new-ager after all…and then turned brilliant with this thought:

ME to hubby: Hey Brandon. Do you want to hummus my bummus and like lick it off?

He said no. (But he would with BBQ sauce.)

But the offer still stands.

Any takers? Jillian?

Magnificent Maintenance

So I saw the D yesterday for the first time in almost a month. As I stepped on the scale, I had this mantra in my head that I was repeating over and over: THINKHEAVYTHOUGHTS THINKHEAVYTHOUGHTS THINKHEAVYTHOUGHTS

…and…

…Guess who maintained her weight for almost a month?? Oh, just me.

Just amazing, glorious me.

That’s the bomb-big ass-diggity right there! Seriously. Do we all realize what a huge feat that is for me? It’s so hard for me to have the appetite to feel hungry enough to feed my amazon 5’11" frame. I have a metabo like some hardcore athelete or something, maybe like Lance Armstrong cuz he was like, “Ooh, I’ll be all ‘be strong’ and beat cancer and win that big ‘ol french race a bunch!” and that’s pretty tight. Anyway what I mean to say is that I bet we have identical metabos. And rock hard bods.

So even though I was like high for a week from surgery this month and didn’t eat all that great during that week, I still maintained. Forget gainage folks, I mean, that’s still totally a goal, but this is quite the milestone for this mama.

The Return of Routine AND My BFF

Despite the fact it’s like 11 degrees out and I’m freezing my left boobsicle off, I’m in a good mood. Why, you ask?

Because my BFF lover in the whole world is finally leaving AK and coming to stay with me!!
I’m pretty sure I don’t get why Alaska was invented. Who likes polar bears and sub-zero temperatures? Not me!
But at any rate, she was supposed to get in at like 10 this morning, but then Seattle and their de-icing equipment sucks hardcore and decided they hate her and want to make her suffer, so she’s delayed until like 4. Poor thing. But still, she’s coming! And maybe we’ll go to Red Robin and get some of their fries, which I love so much I could almost take them behind the high school and get them pregnant.

Our new humble abode is coming along nicely. Proud to say we have plumbing, and pretty sure I’ve been promised that they’ll never take my toilet away, so hopefully no poopy accidents on diapers or droppings in special secret places by the shed will ever have to happen again. Time to repress those memories cuz they’re pretty embarrassing slash juvenile slash desperate slash really, really sad. Life can be so cruel.

I’m totally going to give ya’ll a pic tour of the new pad once it’s finished. We still have work to do on the master bath and kitchen and our lusciously delicious oh so amazing walk-in closet slash room for this seamstress bitch goddess (aka the Briester). I’m about to start working on the curtains for the kitchen, and once they’re done, I swear to you on my favorite MEK jeans and clean underwear I’ll most likely never sew any again. It’s time to shake off the selfless and bring on the selfish. I TOTALLY have the cutest sweater wrap thingy I wanna make. Methinks it needs to be made by me. Soon. Curtains never, clothes for me forever!!

I’m kinda glad the holiday shebang is over and the regular ‘ol depressing routine of my life is back. As much as cinnamon candles and sprinkles and presents and New Year’s kisses can be rad, I’m just done. Although I love the way Christmas sugar cookies envelop my mouth, I’m ready to sacrifice that all for some plain 'ol routine. I like routine. You know that. I mean, I have an eating disorder, or maybe I don’t anymore, that’s highly debatable, but I love control and I love routine and I love sugar cookies but surrender I must. (Although not really, cuz we have a bunch in the candy machine thingies at work, so I can always indulge!)

Anyway kids I just saw the time and I gotta bounce. But love you, have a great Monday!!

Finally Some Photos

I found my camera charger. That makes me almost as happy as pink things and dirty jokes, no kidding. So, for your viewing enjoyment, here are a few I snapped today:


Lil C and his ohsomuchBETTER haircut. He no longer looks like Ellen, an 87 year old, OR an inbred freak.

LOVE THIS PIC LOVEITLOVEITLOVEIT. He tried this hat on at the store today and kept asking, "Mommy BUY IT!" Too bad Hot Stuff. If it had been in boy colors I'd have gone for it...

C got to be the first to use the bathtub in the new pad. Daddy's above him fixing the shower head. Isn't my shower curtain smokin'? (For LAME NEWS regarding the bathtub sitch, read on to the last pic...

These beauts are the curtains I made for the living room. The light made it difficult to take a good pic, and you can see Bobbi's large and in charge butt in the pic, as well as Hairy, who we all know is the most magnificent creature on the planet. You likey?

Here's a close up pic of two of the panels. I made four total because the window was so big.

WANNA KNOW WHY I'M SO FRUSTRATED? The plumber didn't hook up the shower drain to the pipes, so when we washed out the bathtub and ran C's bath, then drained it, ALL THE WATER exploded down into our basement. Sweet. So typical. A flooded basement, fantastic. The World hates me again. We seem to have cleaned it up for the most part though, but it was totally sucktastic. Frigtarded. Such a BJ!!

A Poopy Problem

I've blogged on here somewhere that going to stores where cheap items are sold makes me need to go poo to the poo. Weeeeell, I went to Walmart with my mom, and I totally had to go, but I didn't want to go in a creepy cheap bathroom with I bet pee and germys everywhere, so I thought, no prob, I'll hold it till I get home. So I made it home to the beautiful new pad, and DON'T HAVE A TOILET. Yeah, guess we're buying a new one? So I was talking with the Big B-ster, in a panic, and went through my options:

1: Go in one of the many dry-wall buckets in the house.
Pro: it's full of water and is dumped outside.
Con: the water could splash up and get my bum bum.

2. I considered using one of C's diapers. Wait. Stop!! I wouldn't like, VELCRO it on or anything, just hold it under me. I found this intriguing. Huggies proclaim to never leak. This could be like a scientific experiment or something. When I mentioned this to B, he said PLEASE STOP. IF YOU DO THIS, I WON'T SPOON WITH YOU TONIGHT.
Pro: I'd be the only adult to ever poop in a diaper for fun.
Con: I'd be the only adult to ever poop in a diaper for fun. Plus, I like spooning.

3. Go outside. I have a regular spot out by the shed when we didn't have plumbing before, but that was strictly for tinkling only.
Pro: I could put some snow or mud over it and nobody would ever know.
Con: A neighbor could see me. OR WORSE: I could get hypothermia on my privates.

4. Hold it.
Pro: the least messy option of them all.
Con: it's not nearly as cool.

Help?