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Ummm...this is my blog. Yeah, that's it...my blog. |
I dedicate this blog to my sister Chewie Kittie  . If it weren't for her very kind and generous  I wouldn't have even found WDC much less been upgraded to keep a blog. As you will soon find out I lead a pretty boring life.  I will try and spice it up as much as I can. I have to admit that keeping an on-line journal sounded very appealing and now I get to. Yea for me! Okay peeps...enjoy! |
| Okay, so this post is WAY overdue, but having a full time job and NOT having web at home makes it kind of hard to post new blog entries. Yeah, I know, no web at home, but here's the deal...I'm really trying hard to see where we can make some cut backs and until hubby stops eating out so much and lays off the Dunkin Donuts-coffee-before-work then we'll never get out of debt. I've come up with what I think is a brilliant plan. Now to just get him on board... But enough of my on going financial woes. This new year has started out with less than a bang. Nothing really amazing to report. I did pass my insurance license test so I guess that is something to brag about. Trust me, I haven't studied like that ever. Not even in college which might explain why I could never get a C in college algebra. But I say screw math. The only thing you ever really need to know is how to add, subtract, muliply and divide. And even then you have a calculator for all that junk. Math, schmath.  I hope y'all enjoyed Chewie's report of Downeast. She failed to mention all the ugly people and those oh so dangerous rotaries. Another time perhaps. So here I am on my lunch breaking the rules of not using the web for personal use and what do I hear??? BABY TALK!!  I really like all the people I work with but they have this ridiculous habit of talking in baby talk sometimes. Lord!! I just want to run out of here screaming. Shit like, "I made fresh toffee." What they mean is, "I made fresh coffee." And saying wittle instead of little. It's like listening to Tweety Bird all f-ing day!!! Sheesh!!  Ummm...how old are we exactly?? Only 15 minutes left. Sorry for the lame-ass entry but Chewie was giving me a hard time so I thought I should post something. I have been reading most of y'all's blogs but sometimes I just can't leave a comment. Yeah, I'm lurking. He he he  What's new.Maybe if I can roll the new financial plan into action then we'll have started saving so much we can have some internet connection. We'll see. I guess for now I'll just have to stick with sneaking time here and there at work. Take care y'all!!! |
| I hope some of Chewie's friends read this. I'm sorry for this entry's sadness and brievity (sp???). Last night Chewie's hubby called and told her that the real Chewie was hit by a car.  Thanksgiving just isn't our holiday I guess.I'm not sure if Chewie will have a chance to come in here and post anything in her blog, but I wanted her WDC friends to know just incase you don't hear from her for a while. I wish my first entry from a very long break could have been a bit more happy, but as they say, shit happens. I just hate that it happened to Chewie when she was supposed to be taking a vacation from stress. Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving y'all. Much Tex |
| GPs for the movie I got the entry title from. I'm so glad this week is almost over. Man, it's been a doosie (sp???). Recently we've had quite a bit of rain up here. Thus the handle. Well, apparently basements in old houses will flood from time to time. This was one of those times. Most of our stuff that we haven't gone through yet from the move is in plastic totes. We thought it was safe enough but last Friday night we started smelling gas-like fumes and went to investigate. There was about 4-6 inches of standing water in the front and back of the basement. The front has never had water in it and the back usually dries very quickly thanks to the tiny drainage moat around the permimeter. (Which is backed up right now thanks to some blockage that we can't see). Not this time. All we could see in the back were some of our plastic totes floating around. I immediately became very panicked. We still had paperwork and pictures that we hadn't gone through. Our entire CD colletion and most of the DVDs are still down there as well. It was too flooded at the time for us to go through, so Trot and I went and stayed at MIL and FIL's because of the gas fumes.  (We think the fumes came from the lawn mower gas can, FYI.)Today I went to asses the damage and start cleaning things up a bit. Oh man, it smells so bad down there because a lot of stuff is still damp plus, like I said earlier, the little drainage moat is backed up and there is some nasty smelling, standing water. A few weeks ago I boxed up all of Trot's clothes he can't wear anymore and now I'm having to wash them again. Yep, wet and stinky. Also the quilt I made for him before he was even born. And my Nani blanket (Nani was my daddy's mom). And an afgan (sp??) Memaw crocheted. LORD!!! There was a tote with some Christmas items in it. Not ornaments, but like figures that you would set up to make a town sceen or something. They had some lovely, fuzzy mold growing on them. Good news...CDs, video games, and DVDs made it. Bad news...all of my Disney VHS tapes are ruined. Not that we even have a VCR anymore, but now it will cost a fortune to replace those. What about those other VHS tapes that I had hanging around?? Bone dry. Yep, Red Sonja is still intact. I guess I can still try and sell them at least. But I would rather those have been ruined and not been able to sell them than the Disney ones getting wet at all. Oh well. Moving on.I thought things were going to be okay, because I was able to save most of the Christmas ornaments that got wet and even the ones that were damaged were ones that I could easily part with. Then I came arcoss a really heavy tote. Crap, this one must have water in it. I opened it up and my panic-y feeling I had last Friday night came to flooding all over me again. (Pun intented) Pictures, hubby's Army certificates, baseball cards, misc paperwork. I started boo-hooing. Lord, even the U.S. flag that he flew on his Hum-V during Desert Storm was falling apart it was so saturated from the rain. I just stood there bawling, peeling pictures apart, hoping that I could salvage everything. All of the pictures were pre-digital camera. More good news. We have no idea how to regulate the heat in the upstairs apartment. Our tenants either freeze to death or die from the heat. Yea, another maintenance call. Our renters are so great though. Very understanding and patient. And...one of the branches on our birch tree broke and was lying on some power lines so we had to call the fire department and they came and then said we needed to call the power company, but they couldn't come out right away because there were power outages that needed to be addressed. The tree has now been taken care of but we will have to wait until this weekend to borrow FIL's truck to haul it out of the yard. GAWD!!!! You know what though? Things are getting better and better between me and hubby.  I feel that we are enjoying each other's company again and we are laughing more, which is always good in my opinion. And we've been having more...ummmm..."together time" if you know what I mean.  nod, nod.  And if you think about our flooded basement in the grand scheme of things it's not so bad. First of all, having a basement means you own a house and that's always a good thing. And think about what those poor people lost in Katrina. EVERYTHING! Yeah, my measly little basement flood is nothing compared to that. I mean, it's better than the house burning down. Or somethig horrible happening to Trot.  Or Third Watch being cancelled. Oh wait...that DID happen. Curse you NBC!!! There are always things that are way worse. And trust me, I'm counting my blessings. Oh goody. This weekend's forecast...rain. |
| There is a wonderfully disturbing show on A&E called Intervention. I stumbled across it one night and was instantly hooked. It's filmed like a documentary and the participants go about their daily lives talking about their addiction. What they don't know is that their family and/or friends are setting them up for an intervention. They have shown all kinds of addictions/diseases. Alcoholism, illegal and prescription drugs, anorexia, bulimia, and even cutting. For those of you who don't know, cutting is just what it sounds like. The person cuts themselves. I've only seen one episode with this particular addiction and it freaked me out. Why? I guess because the girl and I had something in common and our common ground is what made her a cutter. Why wasn't I like that?? Or more importantly, why wasn't she like me?? I don't know if I could ever commit some self-mutilation. But that's what makes this show so amazing. What makes someone an addict. They always give the background on the addict, and it always starts in a such a positive light. They were an honor student. A gifted athlete. A doctor with a promising practice. And then a major tragedy strikes in their lives. Death, divorce, moletstation...you name it. Then before you know it they are on some downward spiral of destruction, thus the intervention. More often than not, they accept the treatment program. Sometimes treatment works, and sometimes they relapse. It's crazy how it all works. I guess that's why I watch the show. Will these people get their lives back on track? That gives me hope. Because if they can beat substance abuse surely I can kick my additction. Yes, I'm an addict. Food is my drug of choice but since it is a legal substance society doesn't recognize it as a serious problem. I love and hate food. It gives me comfort and also makes me feel wretched. Sometimes it brings me joy and sometimes I cry as I take a bite. I would classify myself as having an eating disorder because I don't think I have a healthy relationship with food. But since I'm on the other end of the spectrum what would I be classified as from a professional point of view? Serious problem or seriously pudgy?? I wish someone would have an intervention with me and send me off to some treatment facility (paid for) so I could come to grips with my issues. |
| And I'm one of them!! How can this be?? you might ask. Well...I'm addicted to infomercials. I can't get enough of those darn things!! In fact, after hubby leaves in the mornings I channel surf and see just how many things are for sale at 6 am that I just can't live without. And friends, there are oh so many. Here is my current wish list: Bare Minerals - some crazy, fabulous make-up that will make me even hotter than I already am Food Saver - Lord, I wish I had the 4 easy payments right now!!! Swivel Sweeper - this sucker will cut my cleaning time in 1/2...I just know it! the Wagtail Mop - I never knew how dirty my floors actually were until this badboy came along Jack Lalanne Power Juicer - I can feel my health getting better just watching this thing work its magic on those veggies and fruits Billy's Boot Camp - oh yes, the Tae Bo man himself...with results like that I think I can endure his crazy, lazy eye The good news? I will be starting my new full-time job on the 30th so now I might be able to afford some of these goodies. The bad? I will be starting my new full-time job on the 30th so now I might be able to afford some of these money and time wasting inventions that will not make me healthier, more beautiful, have a cleaner house and save me hundreds on my grocery bill. I think if I just keep watching them over and over I will convince myself that I really don't need any of that stuff. You see, I was sold on The Magic Bullet for the longest time. The longest. I wanted one so bad. I could see myself whipping up all kinds of tasty treats for my family. It was glorious. And the add would come on again and again. Once an infomercial ended, I could just flip the channel and there was that magical Magic Bullet. But after the 6th or 7th time I grew wise to their scheming ways. See, they were saying it only takes 3 seconds to make guacamole. 3 seconds!! Wow, that is fast...ahhh, but you forget that all their ingrediants were already peeled and ready and waiting for them on the cutting board. So it didn't reallytake 3 seconds. And everytime they would make something, that Mimi chick could declare how she never dirtied one pot or pan. What??? What about that muffin pan? Or that frying pan you used to make the "3 second omelete"??? And then I just love how they show someone cleaning up "one of those exspensive $200 juicers." That fool is standing by a sink, full of soapy water with a look of disgust on their face as they drop the entire juicer into the sink. Who the hell washes dishes like that??? Reminds me of that Oxy Clean laundry ball. While Billy Mays is screaming at you they show some idiot pouring powder soap from the box to the measuring cup and they're doing it over the washing machine. Powder flies everwhere when the poor bastard dumps too much into the cup and it overflows into the washer and Billy is yelling about how you will never have to pour or measure again. Yeah...ummm...who the hell washes their clothes like that?? I don't know. Perhaps I'm the one doing it wrong. Maybe I should just haphazardly start pouring my liquid detergent (that comes out of a convenient and spill-proof spout) into the handy measuring cup directly over my washer and then become a raving lunatic when I over-pour it because I'm a complete donkey. Then I'll imediately rush out and get the Oxy Clean laundry ball. I'm not saying that the ball doesn't work, but I think the focus should be on the cleaning factor. It takes about 5 seconds (enough time to make a complete Magic Bullet meal!!!) to pour the damn detergent yourself. Showng nimrods who don't know squat about correct laundry detergent distribution will not get me to buy one of those things. Wait...where was I?? Oh yeah, the Magic Bullet. And those cheapskates only give you 4 measly little drinking mugs to make cocktails and smoothies. Hope you only want to have 3 people over because that's all the mugs you get, pal. But if you order in the next 5 minutes they will double your order!! Oh yes, keep talking. Mama like.  I know!! I'll just take the other 4 mugs with my free Magic Bullet system and then give away the rest of the crap to one of my unsuspecting friends or relatives. Ha ha!! You thought you were going to screw me Magic Bullet, but the tables have turned!!  Now who do I make the check out to?? Yes, I will gladly pay $50 extra dollars for rush delivery. I want those 60 second nachos, like yesterday. I you Magic Bullet. |
| Well, at the insistance of Chewie Kittie I guess I'll finally update. I know, I know...my loyal 3 (or is it 4??) readers will be so happy. So hang on to your hats! Well, MIL and FIL are still in the moving process. Yes, the black mold is still there but FIL said he would fix it himself. Okay then, whatever dude. What really has him in a tissy is that the man who used to own this house is a contractor, so FIL thinks that everything should have been done correctly and with the most expensive materials out there. Whenever they come across another repair or upgrade he just stands there scratching his head looking very puzzled. I, of course, am giggling my ass off because this is the very thing that I knew they would run into. So this weekend hubby had to go over and help move some more furniture and whatnot. They've been moving for a couple of weeks now and just this Sunday made the most amazing discovery. Now I'm not sure if y'all are familiar with New England architecture. Most of the houses up here are 100+ years old and huge. I guess back in the day extended families lived together or they had servants or something because the layout of these houses is very odd and sometimes annoying. Anywho...along the way someone must have converted one of the upstairs rooms into a bathroom and laundry room. But they decided to put the washer in the bathroom and the dryer in the laundry part (just outside the bathroom door). MIL and FIL recently purchased a new washer and dryer so they wouldn't be needing the 1970's mustard yellow pair that lovingly came with the house. No big deal...just wheel the old washer out and wheel the new one in. But wait. What's that you say?? They put the washer in the room and then decided to frame the doorway?? And the doorway is only 2 feet wide??? And the washer is 1/2 full of water because it's broken and won't drain??? Gawd, the contractor's decision on this carpentry project really stumped FIL. Poor hubby had to help out with this problem which leads to...Jiggy back. Somehow in all of the moving of the extremely heavy items he tweaked his back. I warned him that this would happen. I've asked him for 2 days now if he is going to see a chiropractor and he gives his usual, "I don't know." Whatever man, it's your back. In the meantime, FIL gave him some pain medication and it makes hubby super loopy. He knows it's not fixing the problem but I guess as long as he's not in pain he doesn't really care. He said he tried to go to a couple of places in the town where he works but they didn't accept walk-ins. Ummm...okay, so make an appointment then. Men. |
| I've been looking at some of my recent blogs and they are filled with so much ugliness and rant that I feel embarrassed. But even more unfortunate is I think I know now why my heart has been so heavy. Hubby and I are having some problems. I didn't think our situation was so bad, but the last couple of nights have been filled with serious talks and many tears on my part. I'm not writing this in hopes of sympathy or anything like that so please don't feel badly. I'm sure everything will work out fine. I've been praying and praying about it. I've talked to my mom and that always helps me. I love that I have such an open and honest relationship with Mom. It's truly a blessing. I won't go into details because...well...because I just won't. Marriage problems are so painful and my nerves are so raw right now. Just when I think I'm dried up from crying I can feel the tears stinging again and it's hard to fight them back. Love is such an awesome and powerful thing. It's so crazy that it can give you the highest high or the lowest low. And I don't want Chewie Kittie to worry. We're just in a rough patch right now. Everyone has them and I know that we will overcome this one. I just hate not knowing when.  As Tom Petty would say--The waiting is the hardest part. Or Carly Simon--Anticipation. It's making me crazy.Okay, so I tried to end this entry on an up note. That's how I deal with pain. I try and make light of it. Laughing helps get me through. So, partyof5dj if you wouldn't mind cranking out another chapter to your serious literay romance type thingy I would be extremely grateful.  Much y'all. |
| Wow, car maintenance sucks donkeys. Why can't cars come with a lifetime warranty like the Ginzu (sp???) knife. Nothing was going to destroy that thing short of running it over with a lawn mower and even then I'm not so sure. I miss the good old days in Washington state when it was cheap to register your car and there was no inspection required. Even in Texas it seemed like the inspection wasn't that big a deal. The blinkers work, the horn works, the breaks work...good enough. But not here in Maine. Oh no. The thing is, I don't know if we are being scammed or not. That's the thing about not knowing jack about cars. You never know if they are making up shit to fix just to squeeze every last dime out of the deal. And I think my favorite thing I see at auto repair shops are the signs in the customer waiting lounge. Not responsible for lost or stolen items left in vehicle Excuse me??? Not that I've ever had in problems with theft before, but basically it's an advertisement that their employees could be potential kleptos. I say that they are responsible. Are you telling me that if something goes missing from my car then it's my fault for leaving it there? I think not. Let's analyze the situation. My car has been in the work bay for 3 hours in front of no less than 1/2 dozen workers and someone just came in the garage and stole my shit and no one saw them do it??? Amazing!!! I know...the chances of that happening are slim to none, but the fact that they post those stupid signs is just irritating.Kind of like the whole We retain the right to refuse service to anyone. Okay, then I have the right to turn around and leave here and not let you make a dime off of me. How ya like that?? The thing that kills me is that signage is most often seen in the most seedy places in town. i.e. A nasty-how-did-they-ever-pass-health-inspection-every-barfly-known-to-mankind-cigarette-smoker-haven-sports-bar dive place where I used to work had one of those signs and any time I saw it I would just . Like we would refuse service to anybody. Sheesh. |
| Yep, it's going to be a swearing entry. WARNING!!! Well, my fucking in-laws are really dumber than I thought possible. Not only will they be moving to the same town as us (and less than a mile away), but they bought the house that needs the most work. SON OF A BITCH!!! MIL is the most pretentious bitch I've ever met in my life. No shit. She is sooooooo about keeping up the the Jones'. God, it just drives me crazy. Instead of buying a nice modest house that is move-in ready, they went right for the oldest, most dilapidated piece of shit because that's what she wants. In theory this house could be gorgeous. The features that are nice are really, really nice. Woodwork, hardwood floors, fireplaces, etc. But structurally...that's another story. I'm no house inspector, but black mold creeping through the walls would have been my clue to stay away. But hey, that's just me. Seriously, if I see one hint of danger when we go over there, I will not hesitate to tell them that if they don't fix the problem, Trot and I will not come back until that place is up to code. I'm sure they could do without me...the bitch wife of their son. The loud-mouth. The only person in the family who is brave enough to tell everyone what she actually thinks. Fuck them. Fuck 'em and feed 'em fish heads. Maybe that's why that have so many problems. Always worried about the outside and never dealing with the ugliness they carry around everyday in their hearts. That whole family is nothing but a bunch of co-dependant snobs. And shit for brains. And donkeys. And fuck sticks. They are as usefull as a condom on a limp dick. The thing that worries me the most is that hubby and I will be the hired hands for this place. 60+ years old is not old by any means. Don't get me wrong. But the thing is, is that they spent 26 years in their last house and it was still not decorated the way that old hussy wanted it to be done. I swear it was like walking into a Victorian museum. Everything was antique and breakable. Dark and unwelcoming. God knows this next house will be too. But do they really have another 26 years of hard labor in them???? That's where hubby and I come in to play I suppose. I guess I shouldn't worry about things that haven't even happened yet, but I just know that's what's on the horizon. "Umm...could you come over and help me with blah, blah, blah???" Forget the fact that we have our own house and lives to take care of. Yeah, fuck that notion. Not to mention what will happen if FIL has to go to prison for a while. Their biggest concern??? Most of the houses they looked at didn't have a big enough yard for a BBQ. WTF!!!! Okay, we had like 3 cook-outs over there this summer and it was for 4 adults and a child. No, the reason they want a big yard is so she can fuck it all up with her ridiculous gardening and make this yard look like shit too. Have had it lady. Nothing like an overgrown jungle to make the neighbors happy you moved in town. I'm done trying to understand this woman. Honestly, in my heart of hearts, I would love to have a fist fight with her. That's right, a good old fashioned brawl. Man, I just want to fucking knock her lights out. While I'm at it I wouldn't mind kicking FIL's ass too. That cocky SOB needs it. Trust me. Even though he is going through his legal problems I don't quite think he's been taken down enough notches. What I wouldn't give to kick that dude square in the balls. Diagnose that asshole!!! Wow, I need therapy. Or sex. Whatever. |
Maine accents  Resturants that are out of an item you want to order Jiggy spinach "Dog" the Bounty Hunter's hair  Pregnancy tests at the $1 store  Slow fast-food workers ATM/Debit Card fees That OxyClean guy Yoga Booty Ballet Idiot co-workers People who make lists of things that are wrong  |
| I switched shifts with the morning receptionist at work this week so my afternoons have been free to get my "to-do" list done. So yesterday I needed to have some pictures develped of Trot (my family has threatened me with my life) and I decided on the one hour gig at Wally World. I really didn't want to drive all the way home and back so I went to Michaels, the craft store, and decided to mill around and look at yarn and other knitting notions to waste time. Every time I walk in that store, I'm flooded with memories. I remember my mom dragging me there on so many occasions and of course I went kicking and screaming all the way. The older I got the more I liked going. One thing that is the same no matter what Micheals you go to is the way it smells. I wish I knew how to decribe it, but I don't think I could paint a very accurate picture. All I know is if you blindfolded me and and took me into a million different stores I would know if we were in a Michaels. I started wandering down the many aisles filled with various craft ideas and projects until I came to the yarn section. I love touching and feeling all the skeins; picturing all the scarves and sweaters I would love to make for myself. I looked at my watch and had a half hour to go before the pictures were ready so I thought why not keep perusing the aisles. Stamping, beadwork, flower arrangements; hell, even some of the Christmas crafts were out. I ambled slowly up and down wishing I had the time and money to invest in various craft hobbies. Over the years I dabbled in a bit of this 'n that. As a kid it was latch-hook , cross-stich , even a touch of scrapbooking in high school. Eventually I came back to knitting.But as I made my way to other end of the store there was my secret passion. Oil on canvas. I took art my senior year in high school. It was either that or band and I really didn't want to commit myself to such an endeavor. I was busy enough with other extracurricular activities that didn't make me look like a complete geek. Anyway, our teacher was a very talented and sweet lady. She had given me art lessons as a small child (by mother's insistance of course). The class was awesome. There was no emphasis on talent. You were graded on attitude and attendance. We didn't study light and objects and perspective and all that jazz. She just gave us various art books and told us to pick out a picture that we liked. After that it was a canvas, paints, brushes and off we went. It was so free. She would come by and help us with a particular stroke or if we weren't getting a color blend quite right. I stood there looking at the familiar colors: yellow ochre, sap green, ultramarine blue and burnt umber. I could even smell the linseed oil. It was so fabulous. And then I saw him. The happy tree man himself, Bob Ross. I thumbed through some of his books and remembered how I had copied at least 3 of his paintings my senior year (I still have 2 of them). And that's when I decided then and there that I was going to take up painting again. I started looking at prices and honestly it wasn't that bad. Lord knows what I've spend on food in my life and we all know where that got me. Then I thought, that's it. That's how I'm going to reward myself for my weight loss (4 pounds so far!! ). I'm going to slowly build up a little painting studio. I'll have to make room in the basement, but I don't care. It will give me an excuse to clean that up too. Goodness knows it needs it. I looked at my watch to see if it was time to get the pictures and they had been ready for a least 1/2 an hour! Time flies when you're surrounded by happy memories...and happy trees. |
| Okay, so I don't update my blog very often. Soooorrrrryyyy. I don't want to be one of those boring ass bloggers, ya know what I'm saying? Which leads me to my topic. Chewie Kittie talked about blog lurking and I have to admit that, I too, am a lurker. Some of the blogs I read would put a insomniac to sleep, while others are insightful, hilarious, and over-all just down right entertaining. But I have to comment on a particular blog. I will not mention a name because I would hate to hurt feelings (or push them further to the depths of dispair) but I was blog lurking one day I stumbled across the most depressing blog EVER. At first I felt so sorry for them and then I was thinking, "enough with the pity party." Finally I just thought, "Hey man, to each his/her own. If that's what they want to blog about it is their right." I wish them well and hope that blogging about their problems helps. It's helped me that's for sure.In conclusion, this is the most boring entry ever. My apologies to my loyal readers. Please come again when entries don't suck donkeys so badly. Blame it on Chewie. She just had to have an update. Sheesh!!! |
| Just a quick little update to "Keeping it Real." I think there is some unwritten rule at work to keep all of your co-workers fat. It seems no matter how hard you try there is always someone out there trying to sabotage (sp??) you. I hate when we have meetings catered at work because even though I don't attend said meetings there is always left over food. I was naughty and had a brownie and a cookie yesterday. But I'm not going to beat myself up over it. If I feel like I really need to have something I'm going to because that will help prevent future binges which I'm famous for. Anytime I deprive myself of something for too long, I'm like Robert Downey Jr. on a major bender. Not good.On the upside... Last night for dinner instead of getting two big spoonfuls of shells 'n cheese, I decided to have some brown rice as a side instead. And I didn't go back for seconds which is what I always do. I tried to order some Windsor Pilates thing today (I just love infomercials) and I was asking my operator chick some questions regarding billing and shipping of future items and I swear she had a learning disability. Needless to say, I didn't order anything because I became irritated at the brainless idiot on the phone and said to just forget the whole thing if she couldn't even understand what the hell I was asking. Damn, I really wanted that pilates package. Maybe I should try the internet next time. |
| My on-going struggle with the in-laws seems be getting worse and worse. Sometimes it's so hard to image that my husband was ever conceived by these people. I swear they are the spawn of satan. Anywho... Well the house hunting has officially begun. Keep in mind that they have a specific price range in mind, but I think my favorite thing is that they constantly look at houses beyond that. MIL's ideal would be to buy some miniature Victorian and fix it up. And I don't mean just slapping up some tacky, reproduction wallpaper. She wants to whole enchilada. Stripping floors, replacing countertops, spending time and money they don't have. And let's not forget all of the physical labor and the fact that these two aren't exactly spring chickens. Who do you think would be doing all of the work? I'll give you two guesses, but you'll only need one. Oh yeah, did I mention that we don't even know if FIL will have to go to prison or not?? Yep, all that is still up in the air. There hasn't even been a trial yet. But let's waste all of the money that we make on the sale of our current house fixing up a dilapidated POS and then not have any money for the attorney fees or civil suits that will certainly be filed. Or better yet, buy a house that we really can't afford, but will at least be able to "keep up appearances." Man, these people are snobs. Poor hubby is so sick of hearing everything. He and I had a long to the other night and basically I've been a bad wife. But from now on, I'm going to hold my tongue where his parents are concerned. He is stressed out about all of the BS and just can't take it anymore. He knows his parents are complete and total idiots; he doesn't need to be reminded by his wife. It was a good talk and I think we got some issues resolved. Time will tell.I hate blogging about these morons; they're not even worth the time or entry space, but sometimes I just need to unload. I'm sure my own family gets tired of hearing about it. God knows they have their own in-law problems to deal with. And on that note... Mom, Chewie Kittie , and I are all saving each other from family obligations on Thanksgiving!! That's right, we get to spend it together without all of the horrible in-law drama. I swear this is going to be the happiest Thanksgiving I've had in a very long (and overdue) time. I hope they feel the same. |
| Hello, my name is Amelia and I'm a fatty. (everyone) Hello Amelia. Okay, so that's probably not how Overeaters Anonymous meetings start, but the fatty part is true. I'm turning the big 3-0 in a couple of days and this is so not what I wanted my body to look like. But don't cry for me Argentina, the truth is I love food. Love it. And no, I didn't have some horrible childhood or anything like that. That's not why I eat. I just love food. I've had to watch my weight my entire life, but it wasn't that big of a struggle until I graduated from high school. I was constantly active in athletics back in the day, so maintaining my physique was effortless. But here I am 85 pounds later. The weird part is that I know I'm a big girl, but when I look in the mirror I don't see a fat cow. But when I came home from vacation and saw myself in some of the pictures I was like, "Fatty, fatty two-by-four, can't get through the bathroom door." Holy shit. Not the same image I see in the mirror. It was kind of an awakening. So I've decieded to do something about it. And my 3 readers out there get to go on the journey with me. What I'm about to disclose is extremely embarrassing for me, but I think that by actually putting myself out there it makes it more real and then I'll be forced to change my lifestyle. Okay here it is... I weigh 214 pounds and I wear a tight size 16, loose 18. Oh yeah, and I'm only 5'3". Yep, the same height as Carnie Wilson. She still looks huge but she weighs less than me. How do I know this you might ask?? Another one of my guilty pleasures...Celebrity Fit Club. YIKES!!! So there it folks. From now on I'm going to keep it real. No more excuses. What's that cheesy saying, "If it is to be it is up to me." Well, that's my new moto for my thirties. No more, "Jimmy crack corn and I don't care," because now I care and I want to be a sexy bitch. Strike that. I'm already a sexy bitch; I just want to be a healthy, sexy bitch. |
| I debated about what to write today. Should I write about my adventures in Texas?? Nah...basically my oldest brother rocks , my other brother is still an a-hole , my uncle is a drunk and it's hotter than an SOB down there. I did get a fabulous new 'do and, oh yes, my Memaw is high maintenance. I was complaining to my mom about how traveling with her and Memaw is like traveling with gypsies. They have to take every worldly possession on each outing. I told her she really needs to think about pairing down all of her and Memaw's shit. Then in a huffy tone she's all, "Well, I hope when I get to be Memaw's age you will let me take things I want to on trips." I told her she could have whatever she wants but that didn't mean that I wouldn't bitch about it behind her back. That made her giggle and everything was cool again. All in all it was a great trip, but I'm glad to be back in Maine. Wait, did I just say that??? Oh Lord. Anywho... I was watching this show on E! today and it was 101 Most Guilty Pleasures. Of course it made me think about WDC. Then I got to thinking about my other guilty pleasures and how embarrassing they are. So here is my number 1 guilty pleasure. I watch Saved By the Bell reruns over and over and over.  I can't get enough of that stupid show. I'm not sure if my guilty pleasure made the list or not because I only saw 101-81. So if anyone reads this entry I would love to know if there are other Zack Morris fans out there. Or if not Zack fans then tell me all your dirty little secrets. I want to know everyone's guilty pleasures, besides blogging of course. |
| *Names have been changed to protect the idiots. Well, I knew I would write about her sooner or later. That's right, it's time for one of many installments about my donkey mother-in-law. I touched on the subject very, very briefly in an earler blog. And you just can't get the jist of this woman from that. Maybe the smallest of ideas, but nothing near what she is all about. Let's start at the beginning... My in-laws (let's call them Dumbass and Devil Woman*) live in a 100+ year old house here in Nowheresville, ME. This house is very large on quite a bit of acerage. They have lived in the house for 26 years. When they first moved in it made sense. 3 kids, some pets, accumulated belongings. They are antique obsessed and both are shopaholics. So naturally the house is jam-packed with all of their junk. Dumbass used to work 6 days a week leaving the entire maintenance of the house on Devil Woman's shoulders. She claims that she used to be a cleaning fanatic but in recent years she has had to endure so much that she just can't keep up with it anymore. In other words, she would rather tend to her garden (which is out of control as well) then do the necessary daily chores. Last summer my hubby and I moved up here because we thought we needed a change of pace. The cost of living where we were was a bit high and we really wanted to buy a house. Plus we would be closer to hubby's family since mine is scattered to the four winds. Dumbass and Devil Woman were kind enough to let us live with them (rent free) until we bought a house. I was 5 1/2 months pregnant at the time and we only had one vehicle so it didn't make much sense for me to get a job. Looking back I would have done just about anything to get out of that house. My long days were spent helping around the house which I was glad to do. I actually like cleaning and I thought it was the least I could do since we were living there scott free. Things were okay in the beginning. When I was nearing the end of my pregnancy I was becomming tired very easily and she would make comments to Dumbass about how I was sleeping a lot. This irritated the shit out of me because I was still managing to clean the entire house while she would putter around in the monster garden and spend 3-4 hours a day on that gardening website. Fast forward to the present... Dumbass is being charged with some felony stuff, so he had to close down his business and is now stuck at home with Devil Woman. The upkeep on the house is physically draining them and without his income the house will ruin them financially. Long before the arrest and all of the legal crap started happening, hubby said that they should think about downsizing and get a smaller house. Well, now it has come to that. Since I only work in the afternoons and Trot is in daycare all day, I told them that I would come over and help them start to pack things they wouldn't need (i.e. dishes, knick-knacks, etc.) When I arrived yesterday we didn't get started until 10:30ish because they were gone all moring having breakfast with some friends. Whatever. I asked what we needed to start on and she said to work on the bathroom. I'm thinking, what the hell are we going to pack up in the bathroom?? No, no, it just needs to be cleaned. That's right, cleaned. I have been hired back on the be the cleaning lady again. Meanwhile she is unloading/loading the dishwasher. I'm still cleaning and she goes upstairs to get on her gardening website and e-bay. I'm thinking, why the hell am I working while she is goofing off on the computer. I tell her that I have to get back to the house because I need to get ready for work and that I'll see her at 9 tomorrow.I get there at 9 this morning and her ass is still in bed. The house doesn't look any different from when I left yesterday. Nothing has been packed and no other cleaning has been done. I ask Dumbass what I should do. He brings some cleaning supplies into the dining part of the kitchen. Mind you, there is still clutter everywhere. Mail, paperwork, gardening stuff, laundry. You name it. If there is one thing I hate doing it's cleaning around clutter and personal items that need to be taken care of. I take the long armed duster and start trying to get rid of the cobwebs on the ceiling and beams. 9:15 comes and goes and still no sign of Devil Woman. I'm standing there looking around wondering what in the hell to do with myself. 9:30 comes and goes and still no Devil Woman. At this point I am livid. Here I am cleaing and doing the crap work that NOBODY wants to do, when I have a ton of my own chores waiting for me at my house and this bitch is still sleeping. I got the hell outta Dodge. I left a note on the front door saying that I was sorry I couldn't stay longer but that I had things to do at my house. Even though, Dumbass is, well...a dumbass, I kind of feel sorry for him. He has been working his butt off and she has done nothing but worry about her f-ing plants!!! I'll be glad when this whole fiasco is over with. In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to whistle while I work. |
| As some of you know my son is turning 1 year old this Friday. He's at that age where he is speaking a ton of gibberish, but if it remotely sounds like a word that relates to the question we asked him then, of course, that's what he said. Example, we sometimes ask him, "Who wants to go for a ride," which he replys, "I do." Now, is it enunciated as perfectly as Henry Higgins? Certainly not, but it's close enough and we know that he is confirming he wants to go because he also raises his little arm in the air to indicate that indeed he would love to go bye-bye. The same response can be obtained if you ask, "Who wants ice-cream?" The other night we were watching TV while Trot was playing in the floor. My hubby (wearing boxers) was sitting cross-wise on the couch (an L-shaped sectional) with his butt on one side and his legs crossed at the ankles, propped up on the other. Me, being the pervert I am , looked right at his crotch. "Honey," I said, "one of your boys is hanging out." Naturally both of us started giggling. And then my husband goes, "Trot, one of Daddy's balls is haning out." To which Trot inquired, "Where?" If I'm lying I'm dying. |
| What I'm about the write is disturbing. Okay, maybe not so disturbing as ridiculous. But I've come to the conclusion that I need help. Okay, maybe not help. Time. Yes, that's what I need. Time. Time to adjust to my new world of WDC. So last night I had a WDC dream (gasp!). But it wasn't a pleasant one. Usually when I venture into something new I have dreams about whatever it is I've started. Like for instance, when I was a Freshman in high school we started our basketball practices after school and the workouts were pretty intense. During the first week I would wake up during the night standing in the middle of my bedroom shooting freethrows at my Nerf basketball hoop. Same thing happened when I waited tables for the first time. It was very hard to convince myself that I was not at work and that it was okay to be sleeping at 4 in the morning. No one was starving and I wouldn't get fired.But last night's dream was a bit haunting. I was looking at my blog and I noticed that my costumicon had changed. I thought that was pretty bizarre. Especially since it was one I would never would have picked. So I started looking at my blog and there were these big, bold warning signs at the bottom of the each entry. Kind of like our terrorist warning system. They were at orange verging on RED. They had been posted there by the The StoryMistress  !! and they were telling me to stop posting such offensive entries. I started to read the entries (can't even remember what they said now) and they were nothing I had ever written. I was so scared. I got on the horn to Chewie Kittie and was sobbing. "What am I going to do!!! I just found this website and I love it and they are going to kick me out!!" Chewie was all, "Well what have you been writing?" I told her that someone had gotten into my account and changed everything and I didn't know what to do. She got me to calm down and go into my account and just delete all the entries and start all over. In my hysterics I didn't think of this. I woke up shortly thereafter and had a hell of a time convincing myself that it was all a dream.So, I'm going to try and slow down on this stuff. Try. Good grief, I'm talking about it like it's some kind of drug. I don't know what I'm going to do on Sunday. We don't have internet at home and my library is closed. I can already feel the withdrawals. CURSE YOU WDC!!! |
| On a very happy note I'm glad the terrorist plot was foiled. Dissolving a cell is a good thing, and I'm thankful no one was hurt. Now the sucky part... Next Friday is my son's 1st birthday (not the sucky part yet). The cool thing is that 2 days later I get to fly home (TEXAS!!!) and see most of my family and they will get to partake in the 1st birthday festivities as well. I have been looking forward to this trip for a very long time. I haven't seen my mom in a year and it's been well over that for the rest of the clan. Buying two tickets was going to be very costly so I decided to let Trot (isn't that the best name ever) sit in my lap. No big deal, right? Okay, but now since the attempted terrorist attacks they are saying no carry-on baggage. I'm feaking out a bit. What am I going to do for 5-7 hours without a diaper bag??? Who knows, maybe the restriction will be lifted. I just don't know. I'm telling you, I feel right now just thinking about this. And I want to . I understand that it's better to be safe than sorry, but I'm so worried for my little guy. He has a sensative bobo right now (thanks to teething) and there are just certain things a mom needs to make her precious one feel better. I mean they are making people throw away any and all kinds of liquids/soquids including chapstick! There was a report on MSN that some dude had just had a cancerous growth removed from his lip, but the security dudes made him chuck his medicated lip ointment. Oh holy shite!!Speaking of shite... Last night in the buildig I work in they had to shut off the water to complete some outside construction. Seems harmless enough. We even got an e-mail on Tuesday alerting us to this fact. Well..some a-hole decided that they just couldn't wait until they got home to have their private time and dropped the kids off at the pool AFTER the water was turned off. UNACCEPTABLE. I realize that going poo is natural. Everyone does it. Famous people do it, world leaders do it, the bum on the street does it. But in my opinion that is just something you do behind closed doors in your bathroom at your house. The only time it is even remotely okay is if you are having an "Opps I Crapped My Pants" moment and there is a case of diarrhea cha-cha-cha. Even then, if you can make it across the street to the Shell/7-11/AM-PM station, you should do so. Work is where you tinkle (yes, tinkle), but home is where the fart is. |
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