May 2006 ArchivesAs if everything else that I *didn't* do yesterday did not suck enough, I made one other VERY HUGE mistake...
Yesterday was my husband's birthday and I didn't whore him out at all on my blog :(
Honey, happy birthday...I know that it was a major suckfest in every way possible and I still feel horrible about that. So happy birthday, dear squishybutt because I love you.
And I hope that the chickenandablowjob makes up for it :)
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Ok ok, so this ain't your momma's tag...I still loved me some TV Tag though...
Gidget tagged me like a fucking millennia ago or something...So I'm supposed to list my favorite of Life's Simple Pleasures.
How many? Any particular order?? Does this count as a meme? GODDAMN! I love unstructured sheepdom.
Ok....my favorite of life's simple pleasures...
Sunday mornings. Even if you have every other day of the week off, there is just something about a Sunday morning. Reading the paper, or going out and getting donuts...or just staying in bed until noon. Sunday mornings rawk.
That thing the sun does when it shines through really thick clouds and makes beams in the sky. It's like God is pointing directly down to earth and saying "I bless this spot right 'cheah."
Stepping on the scale and seeing that it's still moving and in the right direction. 246 this morning, baybay. Beat my surgeon's prediction by 4 pounds SO FAR. IN YOUR FACE!
Having someone you love so much that sometimes you can't breath love you back just as much. It doesn't really cost either one of you anything and it is worth more than all the money in the world.
FUCKING MEME'S! They rule the skool.
Watching my cats play.
Making my mom and husband laugh. Best sounds on earth.
Chocolate. Yes, I'm post-op and shouldn't be thinking about chocolate, let alone eating it but I don't give a shit. Chocolate is so fucking cool.
New shampoo or soap. Nothing like being in the shower and not having to fight with the bottle and shake it up and down to try and get something out. Squeeze, plop, lather, etc.
The sun on my face, coming through a window. Normally it makes me hot but lately, it's just hawesome.
Ok, that's enough for now. And since I have virtually nobody on my links, I'm not going to formally 'Tag' anybody...but I will say that if you read this and think you want to do it, I Call You Out!! Do it!
DANCE MONKEYS, DANCE!!
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Unconstitutional? Seriously??
I don't normally make political posts (or conversation for that matter) because, while I can expound at great length on a variety of topics, and do, politics for me don’t present a solid platform from which to spew my derision about the figures currently heading up our country.
That being said, this shit completely pisses me right the fuck off. What are they saying??
“...are examining whether the May 20 raid violated the Constitution.”
“Calling the decision... ‘profoundly disturbing,’...”
“They didn't get it right this time...”
"We've never been told why the search had to be done in the middle of the night," noted ranking Democrat John Conyers of Michigan. "We've never learned why the member in question was not permitted to have his attorneys present while his offices were searched for some 18 hours."
“Speaker Dennis Hastert and Democratic Leader Nancy Pelosi issued a rare joint statement last week protesting the raid as a violation of constitutional separation of powers protections.”
Ok, up until that last thing, you could probably just assume they were talking about something else. Up until that last thing, for one brief, glittering, shiny-happy-people moment, I thought that the government finally came to their senses and decided that, in fact, improper, illegal wire-tapping and/or collection of the phone records of private citizens by certain groups in our government was in fact wrong...
Would they be putting up such a stink if it had been the NSA that conducted these ‘raids’ of the Representative’s office and if they had STOLEN his phone records along with all the other crap that they LEGALLY obtained in said raid?
Seriously, wtf. This separation of powers bullshit is just that...BULLSHIT. From the looks of it, they went through the proper channels, got the authorization of SOMEBODY with the right to give it, and seized shit that they had ordered him to hand over like a year ago?! Who gets a year to turn their shit over? You don’t get that kind of time to clear up a parking ticket, let alone when authorities find $90k shoved into Frozen Totino’s Pizza Rolls boxes in the back of your freezer. The only person given more time to hand over his shit has been Hoffa and they STILL can’t find him.
Instead of spouting off, and wasting taxpayers money on trying to make sure they don’t find out you’ve been buttsurfing kiddie porn while you’re supposed to be governing our country, why not try DOING YOUR FUCKING JOBS and protecting US from this kind of shit when they don’t even go through the proper channels to get it?!
Fuck it...I’m leaving my cam on....somebody tell me if Sensenbrenner and Bush sneak into my house tomorrow to bug my phone.
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Ok, since I still don't think I have enough traffic to justify charging credits for someone to sit all alone for a week over there in a thumbnail, I decided to have a contest instead.
It's a take off of one of my all time favorite games, Six Degrees Of Separation. It started out as Six Degrees Of Kevin Bacon because he's been in so many fucking movies but that was too easy for me to do so people just started giving me random actors to connect together. It's a relatively easy game for me to play because I have no life and watch a rediculous amount of movies. I'll give you a sample so that those of you unfamiliar with this game can get an idea of how it works...
Ok, connect Kevin Bacon to Jennifer Aniston in 6 steps or less, using only actors who are still alive, tyvm.
Kevin Bacon was in Flatliners, also starring Julia Roberts
Julia Roberts starred in My Best Friend's Wedding, which also featured Cameron Diaz
Cameron Diaz and Jim Carrey were in The Mask
Jim Carrey made Jennifer Aniston's boobs insanely large in Bruce Almighty.
So there you have it.
Now on to the contest. This contest will award 100 credits to the winner, while also allowing you to surf some (hopefully) entertaining blogs. The rules are simple. Submit your answers in the comments section. Each blog (except for the first obviously) must be featured in the previous blog's links. You may NOT include your own blog in the list (if you're lucky enough to feature either one of these blogs in your links, it would just make the whole thing too easy...plus you could just go out and blogroll them both and use yourself as the bridge between the two) and I must be able to follow your links in 6 steps or less. This contest will not have a time limit, as I'm not sure how easy/difficult it will be and if it falls too far down on the front page before anybody solves it, I'll put it as a link on the sidebar.
As far the challenge part of it, well I could prove to be *quite* a challenge. There are in theory about a gazillion dead ends that you could run into but the point is to click and read people's blogs. And the starting and ending points of this particular game are fairly interesting/entertaining reads so it only stands to reason that their links list will be fairly interesting/entertaining as well.
There is no "right answer" for this, as long as the links are followable and you start and end with the two provided blogs. However, if you happen to end up using the same path that I did, I'll throw in a bonus 75 credits. When someone has posted a winning answer, I will post my path so that you can see how brilliant I am. If it goes on for too long, I will change the rules and either allow more steps than 6 or possibly unlimited steps.
I do hope that people have fun with this and I do hope that you're able to solve this "puzzle".
So here they are...in 6 bloglink/blogroll steps or less, connect these two REALLY GREAT! sites.
Cow Camp to Have You Seen My Shoe?
Thanks for playing and GOOD LUCK!!
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"I just think we're becoming retarded by promoting people who are frankly either losers, are stupid, annoying, worthless, not funny, untalented and horrible people."
You just described 95% of your readers (the one's who like you that is).
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I'm hoping that this will be a somewhat regular post topic, but I seriously doubt it. I ran across 3 of the dumbest people on earth today, in some way or another, and wanted to share their astounding wisdom with you.
Phone call received by a co-worker at work today:
Caller: Yes, I need the number for UPS.
Receptionist: It is ‘1-800-PICK-UPS’.
Caller: Yes, I know that, but what is the NUMBER?
Article on CNN about a woman trying to lose weight:
She thought buying things like yogurt and low-fat cookies would help her rather than buying junk food. The yogurt contained Reeses Pieces.
Teenager on the bus to her boyfriend:
How can someone so cute be so immature?!
Thank you for stopping by. You made my day.
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During your Tycooning, or credit surfing, or just plain reading time, for the 20 or 30 seconds or so that you're here today, if you could spend those few seconds sending some good thoughts my mom's way I would appreciate it. She's having amputation surgery today and could use all the good thoughts she can get.
Thanks!
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"“I love it when people post something that’s designed purely to piss somebody off. Then they get reamed in the comments and suddenly they do an about face and say ‘Oh I didn’t mean to offend anybody! I was just trying to be funny!’ You want to be funny?? Try using HUMOR! I mean, if you’re going to be a dick, at least go all the way. Don’t pussy out in your comments!”
This was a response by my husband to boogerboi’s latest post of a picture of a fat girl from a past Maury show.
I could not agree more. Obviously you thought it was funny. Obviously, since you have a brain in your head that allows you to throw away credits on battle after battle, you knew that it, put together with your little caption, would piss off somebody. You pointed at least twice to your fq disclaimer /fq about how none of what you post is serious. There are way too many people out there saying things like this when someone disagrees with or puts up a stink about something they say or post. It’s called a copout. If everyone who commented said how brilliant you were with your witty repartee, you can be damn sure you would have been serious about it. You want to be a dick...you want people to think you’re funny? Try being intelligent, not going singly for the cheap laugh, and fucking have the sac to stand behind what you post. You know as well as everyone who is unfortunate enough to spend the 20 seconds looking at your piece of shit website before they’re allowed to ‘click’ their way past it that you were trying to be offensive. Only you were trying to be offensive in a way that would make people laugh. The only people who are laughing *with* you are the ones too stupid to realize that there are blogs out there that are *actually* funny without resorting to taking cheap shots at little girls. The rest of us are laughing *at* you and hoping that the FDA realizes pretty soon that madcow disease has taken over your particular little piece of the burgerblogosphere and comes to put you out of our misery. Go buy yourself some more credits so you can lose some more battles you piece of human filth.
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Ok, so I wasn’t at a mall...but I *did* go shopping today. As I mentioned before, I got this new job that I’m starting in just over a week. In my new job, I cannot dress like a total scumbag, like I do now. And since I’ve lost 130 pounds, I have no clothes.
I stopped at Catherine’s on the way home and started to kind of wander around. I’d never been into one of these stores before and I gotta tell you...I wish that I would have known about it last year and before that. I would not have had to spend the last 3 years ordering my clothes online. Lane Bryant stores mostly suck balls. Not only do they have nothing but hoochie clothes, they only go up to a 26/28 or 3x. I was in a 34 5x. I had not been able to shop in actual stores in more than 3 years.
I went to Lane Bryant a couple weeks ago because I needed a new outfit for my job interview. Still only really hoochie clothes, but at least I had a larger selection of them this time, being in a 22/24, 2x. I was resigned to buying a green satin blouse because there really wasn’t anything else ‘suitable’ in 2x.
Enter Catherine’s. I walked in there and started to look around and entered what can only be described as an experience so surreal that it ranks right up there in the top 5 all time weird experiences of my life. I still had a problem finding stuff that fit. Because most everything was TOO BIG. That’s right, friends...Catherine’s goes up to 5x...in the store!. I could not believe it, and I spent the first 10 minutes or so mentally kicking myself in the ass for never having gone in there before. I ended up bringing roughly a dozen things into the dressing room to try on.
I have never enjoyed trying clothes on, mostly because nothing ever fit well. I still don’t enjoy it very much because I hate taking my shoes off, and taking my pants and shirt off and basically getting dressed and undressed over and over again for half an hour. It isn’t fun. I would like to just grab something, pay for it, and get the fuck out. Now at least I don’t have the added frustration of everything being too small. I ended up with 6 keepers and went to find another bra. I’m at a very VERY weird size and it’s incredibly hard to find a bra. I found one...not where it was supposed to be, right in the front of the wrong peg and snatched it up. $240+ later (I know, oh my GAWD) and I was outside waiting for my husband to come pick me up.
The last thing that I did was to put on the new watch that I bought as well...and to wrap up the entry into The Top 5 Most Surreal Experiences Of My Life...I had to remove one of the extensions in the watch so it didn’t fall off.
I’d like to make one tiny little suggestion though to The Powers That Be™. For future reference, when designing the dressing rooms for a store that caters to “full figured gals”, DON’T make the doors of said dressing rooms open in. Nobody wants to try and get out of the way of the door on their way out of the dressing room.
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I totally made money at poker tonight! My 2nd final table in all the WWdN tourneys I've played and I finished 6th....
AND got quads! :D
And for all the BE surfers out there...
VAGINA!
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I think my most favorite breed of hypocrite is the religious fanatic. Or, more specifically, the people who insist on flaunting their religion in your face in an effort to impress upon you (and anybody unfortunate enough to be within earshot) that they are better than you because of their religion.
People who say that they don’t (or wouldn’t) do something because they are religious are fine. People who, on the other hand, say they don’t (or wouldn’t) do something because they are religious and then turn around and flagrantly wave around very non-religious ideals and behaviors amuse the fuck out of me.
How religious is it to put a huge graphic of a profane gesture on your blog? Apparently, very. And I am sure that the psalm ‘Eat Shit’ is in the bible someplace but I can’t for the life of me find it. Maybe I’m reading the wrong chapter.
Judge not, lest ye be judged ladies and gentlemen. The road to heaven ends in gates guarded by someone who is incapable of swallowing bullshit.
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It's a good thing I'm not in government because I would do things like name streets funny names...like 'Dickweed Lane'.
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I’ve held off on posting about this because the last time I did, I shot myself in the foot (I think. Honestly I can’t remember if I posted about it last time but I think I did and even if I didn’t, I still didn’t want to jinx myself this time)
The reason I had to go to the mall the other day was because I posted for another job within the company I work for. I’ve posted out twice before-both of the other times were for the same position each time but not the same one as this time-and didn’t get the job. And I thought the interviews went really well. I interviewed with the same person both times and both times I was all excited and shit and ended up devastated when I didn’t get it.
So this time, I figured I’d fly under my emotional radar. I would post quietly, not get my hopes up, and just hope for the best. So when I posted for this job, I just waited. And then the day after I posted for it, another job opened up in an area that I’ve been keeping my eye on for MONTHS...and I know the supervisor in this other area and was faced with quite the dilemma. So I talked to him and he told me that I should stay with the one I had already posted for because all the candidates he was looking at had some sort of degree and I wouldn’t really have a snow ball’s chance in hell of getting it.
So I kept the original posting in and waited...and waited...and waited. Finally, a little over a week after I’d sent in my application and about 3 days after the posting expired, I called the interviewing supervisor to find out if they’d had a chance to look over my application. A third position had opened in the meantime and if I wasn’t going to even get an interview on this one, I was going to go for the 3rd one.
He apologized about the delay in getting back to me and scheduled the interview right there on the phone. So I went and got some new clothes and had the interview on Friday. What I thought was a GREAT interview, but like I said before, I’ve been kicked in the nuts over that notion twice now and so I just kept my head down but my hopes up. I did this silly little thing (perhaps not so silly now that I think about it) that I did when I sent my request for insurance approval for my surgery in to the insurance company. Basically, I wrote up this thing that represented the ideal situation of me getting this job. And I read it every day, to myself of course, usually more than once a day.
They told me they still had one more person to talk to today and that they would get back to me Tuesday or Wednesday and let me know.
I got a phone call today. At 3:21pm. There was a guy who sat in on the interview with me and the supervisor on Friday and he was calling to ask me if I could come up and speak with another supervisor so they could “get a feel for you” (you being me). I leave at 4:00. Of course I sprinted up to the 12th floor (from the basement, yes I took the elevator) and was met by a girl who I have seen quite often while I’m outside smoking. She smokes too. We chatted for less than 10 minutes and she said “Well, (supervisor’s name) and I both like you, so it’s just an arm wrestle over who’s area would get you.” She opened the door to the little conference room we were in and said, “It was really great to ‘formally’ meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you again.” As we walked out into the hallway she said, “We’ll get back to you probably pretty soon, we need to get this wrapped up quickly.”
And that was that. The only other time that I’ve had more than one interview with more than one person was when I initially got hired for the job I’m in now. I got back downstairs and tried to finish my work but it was hard because the smile on my face was so big that it was squishing my eyes shut so I couldn’t see my computer screen. At 3:42 my phone rang again. It was the same guy who had called me before and he asked me a few random questions and then said, “Well, yes. Yes, we would like to offer you the position.”
If I had actually known this person, I would have screamed “HOLY SHIT!” as that was what was going through my head over and over again at this point. Instead, I said “Well, yes...yes I would like to accept your offer!” and laughed.
I’m such a dork.
My supervisor said congratulations and shook my hand and smiled and then I think the reality of the situation started to kick in and I think he may have dropped a load in his shorts. He’s trying to figure out when would be a good time to transition out. I’m thinking the second week in June because he wants me to stay through month end but we’ll have to see.
So yah...I GOT IT!! I GOT A NEW JOB!!
It isn’t a pay increase, or even a grade increase, but it gets me out of the dungeon I work in now, it’s something new, and something that I think is going to be very interesting. I am going to be an Operations Specialist III in the BSA department. (That stands for Bank Secrecy Act and it’s just as titillating as it sounds!)
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That's right, I said it...Happy Mother's Day To Me!! Without me, my mom would not be a mother. So therefore, this is a day of celebration for me!
I should make my husband do the dishes.
Although, I would also have to say happy mother's day to him, because without him, his mom wouldn't be a mother either...I'll leave the dishes in the sink and call it even.
Seriously though, happy mother's day, mummy. :)
We're broke this year and since my mom lives clear across the country, ruling out the cheap senior breakfast at Denny's, we couldn't afford to get her anything this year. So since we got a new webcam a couple of weeks ago, I sent her a video card. Me, my husband and her two grandbaby kitties all said happy mother's day in full blown technicolor. She was pleased. Of course getting the damn thing to her was a pain in the ass because it exceeded the max file size limit on our email so we ended up uploading it to the site and she viewed it that way.
She says she's going to burn it on a CD and take it into work to show it off.
Mom's are so great like that. You can still, at the ripe old age of 34, do the grown up version of a hand written, in crayon on the back of an old nasty stained brown paper bag, mother's day card and you might just as well have handed them a winning lottery ticket. I love my mom. I miss her like crazy. And to be completely honest, when she calls me to tell me what silly little thing that the cat just did, or that she met the mayoral candidate in the local election, you know-stuff that you would turn to someone actually sitting in the room with you to tell but not call someone half way across the country to share, I secretly love it. I would miss those 'chat about absolutely nothing' phonecalls that she loves to make.
My mom has been through some horrendous shit, specifically in the last 8 or 9 years. Back in 1997 and into 1998, she was hit with a form of that flesh eating bacteria and was in the hospital for like 3 or 4 months. She had 40+ surgeries (general knock out variety) in that time and came through it. She has all sorts of health problems and because of a complication from them is having to have her big toe amputated on the 25th.
I hate that I can't be there with her for that. When she was in the hospital back in 1997-98, I didn't visit her as often as I should have. I think that for the most part the entire thing scared the shit out of me and it was just easier for me to deal if I didn't go. But that's no excuse, she's my mom and I should have sucked it up and been there for her.
That seems to be a running theme for me. I was the stereotypical child/teenager to her stereotypical overworked, underappreciated single mother. I was defiant and rebelious and just a general pain in the ass for the majority of the time I was with her. I didn't make it easy on her then, hopefully I'm better now. I like to think I am. At least I'm not hopelessly retarded anymore.
There's several moments and things with my mother that I regret, most of which I won't go into now. But the biggest one, the hugest, most enormous fuck-up in my whole entire life is also the most recent. Mothers wait for their daughters' wedding days with almost as much anticipation as the daughters themselves. I know that was the case for my mom. She couldn't afford the trip, nor the time off, but when my husband and I got married last year, she flew up here for several days, stayed in a hotel because our apartment was too small, rented a car and was going to pay for the reception dinner afterwards. There were very few people at our wedding. My mom, his mom, his dad and his dad's wife, his sister and her boyfriend and his 2 sons. That was it. Pictures took less than 10 minutes.
And there is not a single picture of my mother, other than the one that his mom took of her sitting in one of the pews.
Not one. Not one with me, or with both my husband and me. Not one of her with the group.
None.
I took that moment away from her because it just didn't occur to me that she had not gotten up to stand with us. And I feel horrible about that. We even went so far as to try to find another picture of her to sort of photoshop her in. No luck.
I'm planning on doing something in the next few years about that. Because I was such a whale at my wedding, now that I've had my surgery and I am significantly smaller (and hopefully will continue to get smaller), I desperately want to have pictures I can be proud to display in my home. I'm going to buy a new dress and we'll get everyone together again that was there the first time and take new pictures. And this time, my mom will have her's done first.
I'd like to send out a (not so) silent plea to anybody who reads this to send out good thoughts to my mom for next week and her upcoming surgery. It's routine...but it's still surgery.
I love you, mummy :)
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I’m not a make-up, gussy up kinda gal. It just doesn’t happen. I like to be comfortable and laid back and more often than not, this involves jeans and t-shirts, hair up in a clip and no make-up. Consequently, when I do get all “dolled up”, people notice. Since it isn’t normal behavior for me, I might just as well be standing there with a big neon blinky sign that says “Lookit Me!! Lookit Me!!”
I had to get “dressed up” for work today. I’m not going to go into why. I bought new pants and a new shirt at The Mall yesterday and did my hair and make-up this morning. The first thing I heard when I walked into the office today was my supervisor saying “Wow! Kathy’s all gussied up today!!” Then he added “Ooof-dah!”
My co-workers have been falling all over themselves this morning to compliment me on how nice they think I look. In addition to being “in color” today, I’m also in sort of dress clothes which are cut better and hang better than jeans and t-shirts (which is my usual work attire) so they tend to accentuate the amount of weight I’ve lost (129 pounds tyvm). One of the machine operators this morning would not let me walk past him until he expressed his opinion about how much better he thought I looked now than I did when I started working here. And he’s from Vietnam and his English isn’t exactly the best so it took him awhile to say it…a LONG…uncomfortable…while.
Most of me is of course loving this…who doesn’t like compliments? Especially when you’ve gone through most of your life not getting them. But that little bratty 4 year old who sticks her chin out in defiance of the rest of the world and their physically socially acceptable attitudes is standing with her arms crossed in front of her glaring at everyone around us today. “What was so wrong with me before???”
My whole life I’ve felt like I was not good enough for anybody. Friends, co-workers, and anybody else who happened to be conspicuously absent from my life. 8 years ago, somebody thought I was good enough. Through everything, he’s always thought I was good enough. He didn’t run screaming from the terminal the day that I came here. And he stayed by me while I continued to just get bigger and bigger. He never thought I was a freak, or at least he never said he did. He always just loved me. I’m not sure if he was proud or excited to be with me, but he always loved me.
So today, while I get more and more self conscious as more and more people find their mouths filled with verbal diarrhea as they trip over themselves to say how nice they think I look, all I can think about is that there has been one person who has loved me no matter what I looked like. And each compliment that I get makes me hope more and more that now not only am I good enough and that he still loves me, but that he’s finally able to be proud to be with me.
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I had to go to the mall tonight. I hate the mall. Or, well mostly I hate the mall. But the 9th ring of hell hatred I have for the mall is reserved for weekday afternoons before dinner.
During prom season.
I won’t say why I had to go to the mall (that can be reserved for another post), but on my way through I realized that I had lost my barrette and needed a new one. I only had about 20 minutes before I had to be outside to meet my husband who was picking me up on his way home from work. I figured with that limited amount of time, I wouldn’t be able to find my way to the hair clippie section of any of the department stores and back out again without making him drive around the parking lot waiting for me. I looked up and there on the upper level was the answer.
Unfortunately.
Claire’s.
Yes...me...a 34 year old overweight woman was going to walk into Claire’s.
It was like a myspace blog brought to life. In all it’s multicolored text glory. I should have been repelled by the excessive use of pink and the twinkles that blinded me when I walked in the store, but I was not. I needed a barrette. The cute fuzzie thingies attached to rhinestones should have set me ablaze like a vampire in the sun the moment I crossed the threshold but somehow I managed to make my way through the maze of 4 sided teen angst...on a stick.
I looked around for a few seconds but the afore mentioned twinkles were overpowering my overage eyes and I finally gave up and asked the cashier (manager) if they had any plain stick barrettes.
“Right over there, in that corner.”
I looked in the direction of her finger and saw what I had come in here for.
2.plain.stick.barretts.
Two.
I started to try to make my way around the feather boa display but was blocked by a box on the floor overflowing with glittery goodness. I tried to go around the other way and was met with 2...uhm...I think they were human...? I *know* they were female. I doubt they had periods. Yet.
They were looking at tiaras. The path to my plethora of plain stick barrette selection was made virtually impassable by the two adolescent sparkle seekers in front of me. These 2 girls, and pretty much everyone else in the store except for me and the manager, made the residents of The Real World look like gastric bypass candidates. I thought obesity was runninghobbling rampantly through the younger segment of our population. All the little people in that store put together didn’t weigh what I weighed when I was born. And all of their ages put together didn’t add up to mine either.
I stood there waiting patiently while the two of them turned their tiaras over in their hands, inspecting them from every conceivable angle. How many different ways are there to look at rhinestones glued onto chicken wire?
I thought about trying to step over the glittery mess on the floor but just as I was about to, 2 more stick figures danced nimbly over it and blocked my only other access to my lonely and pathetic (and incredibly dusty) plain stick barrette(s). I continued to wait. Finally one of the tiara twins wandered off to another part of the store and the three moved slightly over almost in unison. It was almost enough to kind of creep me out actually, but I was too busy focusing my geriatric gaze on a sudden window of opportunity.
I darted just out of reach of the boa’s feathery grasp and tried to reach up and grab my prize. Couldn’t quite reach. Finally I found my authoritah. The little lonely geek of a 16 year old in what’s left of my stomach finally spoke up and said “If I could just reach behind you real quick...” One of them turned to look where my hand was reaching and I could swear I saw her bear her teeth, but I’m probably just imagining it. “Sorry,” I said as I reached behind her. “Oh, that’s ok.” She looked back to her friend and as she did so, turned sideways and completely disappeared.
I turned after I had pulled the dusty barrette from it’s perch and proceeded to knock a scarf off of an overstocked hook. Oh, that’s just great. I don’t want to get out of here enough already, I need this to delay my departure.
I paid for the barrette and left. I didn’t look back. I was afraid to. I thought maybe they might have all donned their tiaras, knocked out the manager and were about to put her head on a stick.
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Ok, so I have this idea for renting out my blog. Tell me what ya’ll think of it.
I’ll charge 15 credits to start, mostly because I don’t get much traffic right now and it wouldn’t be fair to charge more than that.
The reason I’m not going to charge 10 is because along with my renting will be a game! :) And this game is going to cost me credits-60 to be exact. For each renter. If this goes well, which I hope it does, my rental “fee” will go up, but not enormously so.
So here’s my idea. The first day that you rent my blog, I’ll put a post up telling people about it. Then the rest of the day will be spent looking through your blog, finding neat things about your blog, or you, or whatever. Hopefully interesting or funny things too. Each day, I will post a question about your blog or a post contained therein. The person who finds the correct answer and is the third person to email me with that answer will win 10 credits. This will go on every day for the duration of the rental period. On the sixth and final day, in addition to the question about the renter’s blog, there will be a random bonus question. It could be a question about the renter’s blog, my blog, another blog I surf, or something random that you’ll have to google to find the answer to. Whoever gets the bonus question correct, and has the highest credit count at the end of the week will win one FREE week of rental space on my blog. So in other words, if you win 4 of the 6 contests and answer the bonus question, you will be featured on my blog, with your own nifty little thumbnail and link, for one week. In the event of a tie, whoever answers the bonus question first will be declared the winner. All answers MUST be submitted in email. Any answers submitted in comments will be deleted as soon as I see them and another question will be posted, effectively starting the game all over again (for that day).
So tell me what you think of my idea! :)
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This is surgery (gastric bypass) related so anyone not dead or from a higher plane of existence would do well to cover their ears...right..about...NOW
Dogma, wtg me.
Seriously though, it’s surgery related and I talk about an icky thing so anybody not interested should click the ‘back’ button...
I have not thrown up in quite some time. Almost a month. I did a little bit once at work a few weeks ago but it wasn’t bad...just drank to big a gulp too quickly.
Tonight...sucked...ass!
I made myself a salad...I have salad at least once a day. It’s the only thing I can eat that I can eat relatively quickly and it doesn’t make me sick.
Or so I thought.
Apparently, between trying to ignore the throbbing in my head and the fucking rugrats outside screaming their tiny little LOUD heads off and quoting “Scarface” (I’m sorry but who lets children watch Scarface???) and getting ready to play poker (which I should not have bothered), I wasn’t paying close enough attention to what I was putting in my mouth and ate too fast.
At first it was the normal “I think I’m gonna hurl.” feeling. Then after that went away and I sat down to start my poker game (did I mention that I should not have bothered??) the pain hit.
Oh...My...GAWD! The pain! I know what that guy in Alien felt like right before the thing came shooting out of his chest. It was like a crampy, sucky, squeezing kind of pain right in the center of my chest in between my (rapidly shrinking tyvm) boobs. I tried a little deep breathing, hoping that some of what I had eaten would start to make its way down to Digestionville but to no avail.
When you’re “full” after surgery, you’re supposed to feel it right there, in the middle of your chest, dead center. At least that’s what people tell me. The pain comes in the same place. Up until tonight, I had never experienced either sensation in this particular spot. When I’m full, it still feels full in the same place that it always has, right around the area near my belly button. It’s more of a “heavy” feeling than a “full” feeling though. Like with a regular stomach, when you’re full, it’s contained in a specific place (if memory serves and it should because I spent the majority of my 34 years on the planet FULL) but for me at least, it’s just a general sense of “This part of my body does not want me to put any more food anywhere near my mouth.”
Tonight, Oscar decided to let me know EXACTLY where in my body he is now residing. I tried to control it for the first 3 or 4 hands (and won quite a big pot on the second tyvm) but finally I had to admit it, click the ‘sit out next hand’ radio button and run for the hills...er...bathroom. Immediately after I felt fine (as is usually the case) and 10 minutes later, I was eating again (albeit slower this time!).
Dear Oscar,
I’m very very sorry that I tried to drown you in salad. Please don’t ever ever make me feel that again.
Love always,
The chick who’s ribs you tried to break tonight.
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Repeat: THIS IS ONLY A TEST!
If this had been an actual attempt to whore out my blog by shamelessly posting cute celebs, the cute celeb in the picture you are viewing would have appeared shirtless.
And sweaty.
For Tracy (with special thanks to Chad for finding it)
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I think in the past 24 hours or so, I have seen every imaginable example of stupidity available. Is it any wonder that the rest of the world thinks we are the stupidest country on the planet. There’s no question mark after that because it isn’t really a question, but more a simple statement of pathetic fact.
Example Number One:
Dear Smoking Lady with the creepy trench-coat and thick dark glasses,
You are standing four fucking feet away from the mother fucking ashtray. Why oh why must you always drop your fucking cigarette on the ground and stomp on it while simultaneously lighting up another (which you in turn drop on the ground and stomp on)? It is because of people like you that the rest of us get a bad rap from “non” smokers. You know that guy who walks around with the broom and dustpan outside the building? Well...it isn’t a fashion statement. He has to sweep up after your stupid, lazy mother fucking ass. Put your goddamned cigarette in the fucking ashtray!
Examples Number Two, Three, Four, and Five:
Dear Witless Wonder who works customer service at my place of employment,
There are fucking instructions for filling out the form which you so frivolously faxed to me. Do you really think that, if I need to call you to ask questions, I want to ask for you by your mother fucking teller number?? NO, I don’t. Write your goddamned name on the fucking form (it’s in the instructions.) There is a department that handles issues regarding customers who want to change how their name appears on their account. What on God’s green earth would make you think it’s the mail center (it’s in the instructions.)?? Did you stop to ponder the possibility that if a customer says they did not receive a statement since MOTHERFUCKING January that there could be a reason? Like maybe because there has been NO MOTHERFUCKING ACTIVITY on the account since January (it’s in the instructions!)??? And did you ever wonder, after ignoring the fucking memo that went out TWO FUCKING MONTHS AGO, why the instructions advise you to CHECK AND SEE IF THE FUCKING CUSTOMER SIGNED UP FOR THE ONLINE STATEMENT PROGRAM when they say they are not getting statements in the mail?? IT’S BECAUSE THE FUCKING CUSTOMER SIGNED UP FOR THE MOTHERFUCKING ONLINE STATEMENT PROGRAM WHICH YOU WOULD KNOW HAD YOU ACTUALLY BOTHERED TO TAKE YOUR FUCKING HEAD OUT OF YOUR DUMB ASS LONG ENOUGH TO ACTUALLY TRY AND HELP SOMEONE AND DO YOUR JOB!!!!
Example Number Six:
Dear Witless Wonder (who works customer service at my place of employment) Number 2:
When you pick up your little phone and say “Can I have your first and last name please?” and I respond with, “Actually, I’m an employee, I work in the mail center and was trying to reach your receptionist but her phone seems to be rolling to your area. I was already on the line with one of your co-workers and she tried to call and had the phone roll as well. I either need to speak with (receptionist) or (idiot from previous examples). Are you on the same floor in the same area as either of them?” the proper response is NOT to put me on hold for 5 minutes and then come back with “I’m sorry for the delay. An email has been sent to her explaining the phone issue and we apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you!” I realize that you have to follow a script. But I don’t believe one of the conditions is to shove the script up your ass at the start of your shift so that your head is buried up there for the full 8 hours. Try actually LISTENING to what someone is fucking saying to you instead of practicing your Casey Kasem impersonations and waiting for it to be your turn to talk!
I try to cut the people I work with some slack. We’re all in the same boat, in a manner of speaking and most of us probably hate our jobs. Especially those of us doing the grunt work. But fuck me it’s a good thing I’m lazy because the last 2 assholes were just one floor beneath me and it was all I could do to keep from walking to the elevator, going down there, and slapping them both in the head.
fuck.
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I was going to abandon my celebrity vote whoring ways and make an actual post about something but dammit nothing was happening. I was using the thinky parts of my brain but it just made my head hurt.
So, instead of celebrity whoring, I will whore out my blog using naughty words:
PEEPEE!
BOOBS!!
uh...
DONKEY DICK!!!!!!!!!11
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Oh just fucking great!
Now, instead of the pleasure of knowing this fucktard is going to fry, I get to fund his fucking free cable and corn dogs for the next 50 years.
Thanks.A.Lot
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O...M...G
I think I just came a little.
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My GPS unit is on the fritz. I seem to have missed my exit. In thinking about my last post, I decided to really sort of examine that part of me and my brain and see what happened. The brain part was a short examination :P
I’m still like 12 years old. Sure, I’m responsible like an adult should be. I pay my bills (on time for the most part) I go to work everyday, etc. And I’m as considerate and thoughtful as an adult should be. I try to think of other people’s feelings and how they will react to my actions. I try to take into consideration how other people might interpret my behavior before I choose a course of action. Stuff like that. The “textbook” part of my grown-up-ness is intact and in good working order.
It’s the personality part that is making me feel like I’m maybe not where I’m supposed to be. To me, personality encompasses a whole bunch of different stuff about a person. Everything from the way they act to how they think and how they react to other people. The thinky part of the goo upstairs is having a real hard time letting go of the adolescent that is running amok up there right now (and has been since forever). And I think I’m ok with that.
I don’t want to be stuffy. I don’t want to be boring. I want to play and have fun and laugh at fart jokes and one liners about keeping a blonde busy. I want to think it’s funny when somebody falls on their ass after having too much to drink. I want to spend a whole entire weekend playing video games and hanging out with my boyfriend husband and staying up too late and sleeping in and watching crappy movies on tv. I want to daydream, and make lottery wish lists (although I’d have to say that I’d rather actually win the lottery than just wish for it) and think about what dvd’s to buy at Best Buy. And I want to do that all the while not worrying that money’s gonna be a little tight because of that one extra movie. I’ll think about that tomorrow.
In closing, I’m happy that I’m immature. It’s fine with me. So what if I don’t act or think like the 34 year olds I see on tv or on the street. They probably don’t have nearly as much fun as I do and they probably don’t get nearly as turned on by life as I do. Well…the rich ones probably have more fun than me. But then again maybe not because if they didn’t inherit their money and they’re rich, they probably spend all their time working and only get to daydream for the 20 minutes or so they spend on the treadmill…when they aren’t on a international conference call trying to squeeze more money out of somebody else.
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There is something seriously wrong with me. Last night we were
watching Boston Legal and one of the characters goes "I'm 34 years old!" She
had more to her speech but that was the last thing that I heard.
I'M 34 years old! She seemed way older than me. Is that what people
see when they look at me? I mean it couldn't be, right? I'm not that
old...am I? I mean, I still like video games. I still like teen angst movies.
I still think it's funny to overhear other people having sex for God sakes. I
giggle like a child and press my ear to the wall/door/whatever in an effort
to try to hear better. And then I have to point it out to whoever might be
unfortunate enough to be in the same room as me...giggle "Come here!
Oh my God! They're totally doing it!"
I can remember feeling a connection to characters in movies and on tv that
were my age when I was like 15-20. But lately whenever I find out that
someone is "my age", I'm totally blown away. I am not that old!
DAMMIT!
And now something for the Ladeez! (and the gay menz)
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And I mean it! I won my first Battle Of The Blogs Challenge on Blog Explosion. Gary says it was the Ryan Reynolds picture so from now on RYAN REYNOLDS FOR EVERYONE!
I'd like to thank Catherina for wishing me luck and stuff and to say that I think your blog is really good :D (her record proves that). Thanks to those that voted and I promise to put up a new RR picture tomorrow (just in case my husband is right and that *was* why I won :P
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Here yo go, Tara...yummy
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And that is because I am sick of this crap...If your dumb ass is here illegally, get the fuck out of my country, go back to your own fucking country, learn to speak English (and read it AND write it tyvm), then use the proper channels to come back.
I work with about 50% immigrants in my job and EVERY MOTHERFUCKING ONE OF THEM SHOWED UP TO WORK TODAY! You really think you made a difference today?? All you did was accomplish some very basic things...
You pissed off business owners so that the next time they are faced with a hiring decision, they just might not hire someone who is not from this country but is here legally.
You made it easier for me to ride the bus to and from work today because I didn’t have to wait for any of you pokey asses to get on and off and I didn’t have to worry about sitting next to anybody because it wasn’t as crowded as usual.
You made those of us with half a brain even more convinced that if you are here illegally, you should get the fuck out!
You better hope that none of you “wetbacks” is also gay because if you are, you’re totally fucked.
We should just open up the border to Mexico (and Canada?) and call the whole fucking thing America...then there wouldn’t be any illegals and nobody would have a reason to bitch and moan and maybe then we could finally also get rid of the goddamned drug kingpins because then they’d be subject to American laws and not the mamby pamby Mexican laws that only get harsh once you’re in one of their filthy, rat infested, disease ridden prisons.
(post script: I am not a racist or a bigot or a homophobe. What I am is a free thinking, open minded American who loves her country, follows its rules and thinks that if you did not come here legally like hundreds of thousands of immigrants who did then you don’t deserve to be here taking jobs and food and social services dollars away from them)
EDIT(post post script: I used the term "wetback" and put it in quotes for a VERY specific reason. I wanted to convey the thought that those who I was talking about are the ones who are here illegally, the ones who are "wet" because they are swimming across the border in order to avoid detection. It is in no way meant to lump all foreign people (or all latino, spanish, Mexican, what-have-you) together.)
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