Category Archives: Uncategorized

Hey, you guuuuys! A.K.A, I was Sloth for a Day

Thursday morning, I wake up like I do every morning. Grumbling, stumbling, and generally cursing the world in general. Have I ever mentioned I am NOT a morning person? I can’t manage to get all the crap out of my left eye, and it feels weird. Squishy. Big. Not the way my eyes normally feel in the morning. I go into the bathroom to pee, and bam:

This bad boy is staring back at me. Sorta. As you can see, my eye decided to be lazy as well as super swollen and bloodshot.

I fully admit that I freaked out. I woke up the mister, yelling at him that he needed to take me to Immediate Care.

“What for?” He asks.

WHAT FOR.

I look like Sloth from the Goonies from the nose up, and he asks why I want to see a doctor.

I kindly point out the gimpy eye.

He blinks at me. With two good eyes. I’ll admit, I kinda wanted to poke him in one just so we’d be more even.

So I throw on some clothes and am texting my mother, who works at the county health department and therefore has much quicker access to medical professionals than I do.

The conversation goes like so:

And she says NOTHING back after receiving the picture. Granted, she’s at work, but I’m her only daughter and clearly having a crisis.

What Do You Not Want to do 4 Times in 2 Days? Faceplant. In Public.

So my lovely unbiological sister came to town for some girl time the other day. I’ve been ridiculously excited to see her (hello, adult time with someone who doesn’t keep me up half the night farting) and it was finally time.

We went to see Cock Blockers. Highly recommended, btw, if you’re into raunchy humor and the occasional flash of ballsack. I also appreciated one of the fathers of the teenage girls trying to lose their virginities busting into a hotel room, picking up the boyfriend of his daughter, and throwing him into a wall. I may have even cheered out loud and shook my enormous bag of popcorn.

We were starving by the time the movie let out so we decided to get some pizza and breadsticks in us before the lack of carbs made us cranky. She isn’t a smoker, but I am and was dying for a smoke by the time we got to the restaurant. We’re hanging out by her car and having a good ol’ conversation when tragedy strikes.

One thing to know about me is that if I’m standing on my feet, I can’t hold still. I shift my weight back and forth, I step to the side a little. I’m always moving somehow. And it finally bit me in the ass.

Winter has been harsh and never ending here this year and has left it’s mark on pretty much every road and parking lot in this town and every other I’ve been to lately. The parking lot here was no exception, and if you add in my luck…well…I hit a freaking pothole.

I step onto the edge of it with my left foot, and since that foot had the brunt of my weight behind it, I swung my right leg around and actually managed to stop my fall before I completely faceplanted. I’m sure it looked weird doing some strange, swingy dance move but I couldn’t have cared less what it looked like. I had saved myself! Bwahahaha!

At least I had until my left flip-flop snapped on me and plummeted me to the pavement like fat chick going splat.

I immediately popped back up, but the damage had already been done. I thought my sister was going to pee her pants she was laughing so hard. All I could think to do was to get inside as quickly as possible. Get away from the scene of the crime, and all, right? Plus my foot and my knee were killing me from scraping it on the pavement. I’m hobbling inside, and it’s slow going because for one thing that freaking hurt, and for another, my flip-flop is all flop now since the piece between the toes ripped out of the shoe. I’m limping and my shoe is flapping onto the floor announcing the presence of the idiot who just faceplanted in the parking lot.

Dinner afterward was pretty tame compared to my entrance.

Weather for the next few days was pretty crappy. No real sunshine, chilly, and drizzly. I worked a couple double-days at work (those fun open to close shifts, yay me!) and only had a half day after that. I was excited to get through my half day and get some time off. Apparently a little too excited, since when I got to my car I realized I had left my work keys in my apartment and had to trudge back upstairs to get them. I wasn’t quite running, but I was walking fast up the sidewalk when I hit a patch of wet dirt, slid, and faceplanted again.

That’s right…I slid in the freaking wet dirt that gets stuck between blocks of sidewalk in that little crack. It wasn’t quite wet enough to make mud, but just enough to get squishy and slippery. I hit it like it was a banana peel in a cartoon, started to fall backwards, and over-corrected when I threw myself forward so I wouldn’t hit my back. Instead I went forward. It felt like my left ankle turned itself into a squiggly line. My enormous portable black hole of a purse swung in front of me (thank god) and took the brunt of the fall for my upper body, but my right knee again took the brunt of the fall and sacrificed its skin.

It sucked. It sucked as it was happening, too. I couldn’t believe it. In fact, it was so unbelievable to me that as I was falling I screamed, “Are you serious?!” I mean, what did I expect was going to happen? Did I think gravity was going to push me back upright and say, “haha, just kidding!”?

I’m pretty sure the only thing that saved my upper body was the fact that my giant purse cushioned my fall. You know how some women claim they carry everything in their purse? I can back my shit up, honey. I had a notebook, my planner, a pack of sticky notes, a variety of hair products, random pens and markers, a tank top, my wallet, and half a bag of Doritos bouncing around in that sucker.

I was completely filthy and still had to go grab my keys anyway, so I hauled my sore body upstairs and walked back into the apartment while dying laughing. My husband looked at me, did a double-take, and practically ran over to me while bellowing, “What the hell happened? You were gone for 30 seconds! 30 seconds!”

Dude. When it comes to my life, a lot can happen in 30 seconds. Obviously.

I changed and made sure I grabbed everything I needed. That adorable man actually escorted me to the car because he was afraid of what would happen if I was left on my own again.

So I got to go to work that night with a broken finger (had my keys in my hand when I fell and it didn’t end well), my left ankle sprained, and my right knee pretty much scraped raw and getting blood on my pants every time I moved. I couldn’t even pick a leg to limp on because they both hurt.

And that’s my life in a nutshell. Gotta love it!

Scaring Jehovah’s Witnesses While You’re Trying to Stalk the Mailman

Amazon is one of my biggest guilty pleasures in life. You can get on there, pile all these things into your online shopping cart, check out, and boom, they ship it right to your doorstep. It’s amazing. No more getting dressed and running to eight places only to find out no one has it, no cashiers secretly judging you while you check out, and no making accidental eye contact with people crazier than you or trying to avoid people you’d rather not talk to. It’s amazing.

According to the almighty Amazon, a package I ordered should have arrived yesterday by eight.

It didn’t.

Being a time-sensitive shipment, I contacted amazon and let them know if it hadn’t arrived by morning, I would need a refund so I could go to a store and buy what I needed. The next morning, I get up and drag my tired ass to the post office.

The package had arrived, but it was out with the carrier. The same carrier who won’t leave my packages at my door like most do…probably because they’re annoyed by my love of amazon and are tired of lugging me packages and have decided to pay me back by making me pick them up in person. The post office will be closed by the time the carrier makes it back with the package, so I can’t pick it up later and no, they can’t call the carrier to see where they’re at so I can meet with them for it.

My only option is to go find the carrier myself and get the package. They helpfully told me a general route area for me to wander around in looking for someone they really couldn’t give me a description for other than they will be carrying a mail bag and be dressed for the weather.

Yay me.

So I’m off to stalk the mailman in this area. I’m driving down a main road, looking for the mail truck or the mailman himself, and see a young, clean-cut looking man with a black official-looking coat on, a messenger bag, and a black toboggan with the little poof at the top and a small symbol on the front of it.

I immediately jerk my car to the curb, roll down the passenger window, and yell, “hey!” a little louder than I’d intended, but it worked. I got his attention. He jumps way up in the air and dashes over the other side of the sidewalk in a hurry. Whoopsie.

“I’m so sorry to bother you like this, but I’m desperately trying to pick up a package and they said it was out with you.”

The guy looks at me like I’m absolutely bonkers. To be honest, I don’t blame him. I can now see that the symbol on his hat is the Jehovah’s Witness sign.

I panic. I admit it. All I can do is yell, “Sorry, go on about your business!” and swerve back into traffic while laughing maniacally. Because what else can you do when you’ve scared the poor guy half to death over something he has no idea about?

So I’m back on the hunt. This time, I see the mail truck pulled over to the side of the road so I just pulled in behind it and I’ll just wait for him to come back to the truck. Great plan, right?

Except the truck suddenly lights up and takes off before I even have a chance to scramble out of my car.

Shit. So I hit the gas and follow it, taking a right at the light and sailing along behind it.

I’m not so lucky at the next light. I hit red and start cussing, keeping my eye on him so I don’t lose him. Fortunately, he turns into the parking lot of the store right after the light and gets out to go inside. Yes! Some luck after all!

Only…not. Because as soon as I pull in and get behind him again he hops back into the truck and takes off. So we’re back on the road and I’m following him again, only this time it’s through a residential neighborhood and he’s making all these turns and I’m just trying to keep up and not die while I’m living my life like some bumbling idiot in a spy movie.

Finally he pulls over, so I jerk to a stop behind him and rush to his window just in case it’s a trap to lure me into feeling comfortable. I walk up to his vehicle and politely tap on his window to get his attention.

At least that’s what I thought I did.

Judging from the way he jumped two feet into the air and ducked down in his seat, and from my crazy-haired and wild-eyed reflection in that window, I don’t think he perceived the situation the way I did at first. He looked more like he was considering throwing his wallet at me and crying until I went away.

But in the end, after scaring some poor religious guy and the crazy car chase the other guy didn’t even know he was in, I got the package.

Thank you very much!

To “Me Too,” or Not to “Me Too”

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, I’m sure you’ve seen the sexual assault/ harassment posts going around on Facebook. Tons of women (and I have seen some men!) have raised their hands in a show of solidarity to show just how prevalent the problem is and to support each other.

This post is not for them. While their ability to put it out there is admirable, this post is for those who still aren’t brave enough to do so, who fear repercussions for one reason or another, or simply just don’t feel like sharing a vulnerable moment in their lives with so many people they aren’t comfortable with.

This post is for those who are staying silent rather than joining in the sharing. Whose fingers are numb and frozen, who can’t breathe when they think about it.

Whatever happened, it’s ok if you don’t want to tell everyone. If and when you share your story, you should feel comfortable. Safe. Even if the words feel like glass leaving your mouth and you feel like you’re raw and bleeding when you’re done speaking, you should feel safe.

You matter. Your story matters. Whomever you tell that story to matters. It’s a tough thing to open up and make yourself vulnerable, and it’s ok if you don’t do it on Facebook and put it out there.

You survived whatever happened to you.

You are still putting one foot in front of the other every day.

You are still breathing.

Those things matter, too.

Marriage and the Antibiotic Olympics

I’ve mentioned before how the Mr. has been struggling with his health, especially over the last year. First he had digestive issues and then he developed a diabetic ulcer on the ball of his foot that he’s struggled with for nearly a year now. He took as much sick time and short-term disability as he could from his job, but eventually it reached a point where his job felt forced to let him go and he lost his insurance. Trying to get insurance through the state (my job does not offer any health insurance) has been a whole other herd of lions to fight, and in the meantime, he was unable to keep receiving the medical care he had been getting and things got bad for him – and then they took a turn for the worst.

He wound up being hospitalized for three weeks, guys. Diabetes, bone infection, and sepsis are no joke. They will take your body and hold it hostage. The man has been through so many powerful antibiotics that I almost believe he could be immune to herpes at this point.

When a bone becomes infected, there isn’t much they can do. Even with aggressive antibiotic therapy it can still spread and spread quickly – even to your blood. And since your blood goes everywhere in your body it is extremely dangerous. He wound up having the second toe and some of one of the long bones in his foot amputated and was still so septic he had to remain in the hospital for an extended amount of time.

So much time that we wound up spending our very first wedding anniversary in the hospital. I had a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and a piece of cheesecake, in case you were wondering. It was delicious.

It was also not at all how I expected our first wedding anniversary to go, you know? Not that I ever put too much thought into my expectations for it, but still. Everybody always hints around that when you get married your relationship changes, but I didn’t really expect mine to. We had been together for four years beforehand. We had weathered serious issues in that time – the death of his father and subsequent family turmoil, a child custody arrangement on my end, moving in together and job changes. Getting married never mattered much to me but it was so important to him that it became important to me as well. It was less than two months later he developed the ulcer and the issue continued to snowball from there. I certainly didn’t expect the “in sickness and in health” portion of those canned wedding vows to become so front and center so soon.

And while those canned wedding vows may be the standard in wedding ceremonies, I am still me and I still have my shining sense of humor that has gotten me through the many shitty hands of cards that life has dealt me over the years. This whole experience has taken its toll on the Mr., and it breaks my heart to see him so down.

So I made it my personal mission to make him smile in some way every day. The man is my best friend and he puts up with all of my shenanigans and special quirks. He knows my house may be messy, but by god my towels will be folded just so and put in a certain place in the closet. He knows I like sweet, cold things just before bed and that I will always throw my leg over his in my sleep, almost like I’m afraid he’s going to jump up and make a run for it. Losing a toe and some bone? That’s ok, babe. It doesn’t change a thing about how I feel toward you. I’m still going to treat you the same and make fun of you just as much. It’s how I show my affection.

And with that in mind I contacted a friend of mine who makes shirts upon request. And BAM, these beauties came into fruition:

 

 

I know that second one has a small print, but it says “You can count on me, but only to 19!” ūüėČ

Everyone who snickered at me when they said marriage changes things was absolutely right. That man is stuck with me now, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

The Pasta on the Floor

With school having started back up now, I am determined to cook more meals for my family. It sounds great, but half the time I’m running around like a crazy person and then I realize it’s time for dinner and I dint have a plan for it.

Yesterday I decided to make my chicken pasta – one of the girls’ faves and there’s aways leftovers to heat up for lunch the next day. I was excited. I went to the store, got my ingredients, came home, and got busy. I’m frying bacon to crumble, I’m cooking chicken, I’m even chopping veggies up to make the Mr. his own meal since he’s diabetic and can’t have all the carbs pasta brings to the table. As soon as my chicken gets done I throw my pasta in to boil while I crumble bacon and shred chicken. I make my sauce and toss is the whole shebang in a pan and sprinkle on parmesian cheese so it can bake for a bit and all the flavors mix together.

Twenty minutes later, the small wafting through my apartment has me drooling. I’m done waiting. So I throw open the oven, grab my potholders, grab onto my pan…and proceed to slip and flip the pan upside down as I pull it out. I now have pasta all over the bottom of my oven, all over the oven door, and trailing onto my kitchen floor.

The Mr. hears all of the commotion and comes running, worried I injured myself, and finds me staring blankly at this disaster and trying not to cry. I see him, panick for some weird reason, and reach down to grab my pan. I immediately throw it back down because, of course, it’s still blazing hot from being in the freaking oven.

I am the reason we can’t have nice things. Also, our pizza last night was delicious, thanks.

Once Upon a Time Birthday Party

The big kid turned 11 a few weeks back, and for various reasons we didn’t have her birthday party until today. She’s obsessed with all things Once Upon a Time right now and requested that as her theme this year…not an easy thing to pull off. Walmart sure doesn’t carry those kinds of decorations and as seen in previous posts, I am so not a crafty lady! But I am determined and creative. I can usually throw something together and make it work out alright.

‚ÄčI chose gold, black, and navy blue, and white for the colors since that’s what’s on the posters that I’ve seen. 

‚ÄčI used apples as some of the decorations and as snacks for people, threw some fake rose petals down (Beauty and the Beast shout-out), and put out some chocolate chip cookies and store bought brownies for more snackage.

‚ÄčSome of the kiddo’s stuff became decorations as well as more of the apples.

‚ÄčThe coffee table with the wicked witch’s apples.

‚ÄčMy unbiological sister helping me put together the cupcakes.

‚ÄčI’m super proud of how these turned out…caramel apple cupcakes with roses on top! These tested me so much. When my first batch was in the oven, I went to pull open the door to see if they were done yet and I’ll be damned if the oven handle didn’t come off in my hand! The Mr. had to be my hero and fix it for me while I hyperventilated and wondered how in the hell I was going to fix the rest of my cupcakes! And you ever made caramel icing? It is surprisingly frustrating to unwrap all those caramels and takes forever to melt them down. 

‚ÄčThis was my absolute favorite part of putting together the party! The hearts in a box, ala Snow White and the Huntsman. The evil queen wants Snow White dead so she hires a hunter to kill her and bring her the heart as proof of Snow White’s death. So I came up with these little numbers – heart stress balls (for squeezability when you want to crush your enemies’ hearts) and filled the rest of the box with gold coins as a nod to the payment the hunter received for his dark deed. Thank you Amazon for having the perfect item readily available and shipped in two days! Lol.

All in all, the party was a big hit for the kiddos and I am so so happy it’s all over and done with until next year.

Minecraft Party, Take Two.

The last couple of years, the little one has wanted the same birthday party theme the big one had the year before. We had two Frozen parties, and now we’ve had two Minecraft parties. I’ve previously posted about Sophie’s Minecraft party (where I dyed my teeth green and made a cake so bad I looked for a toy dinosaur to stick on there and blame!), so at least I knew what mistakes I didn’t want to repeat this go-round. 

And I admit – I have a problem with procrastination. I always think I have so much time and then it bites me in the ass because I’m rushed and stressing. We seriously had NOTHING for this child’s party until the night before. I got out of work Friday and ran a few towns over to a Party City and decent-sized Walmart for decorations and presents.

The party was fantastic – we had just enough kids for chaos and screaming but not so many you couldn’t walk without knocking over anyone. Here’s some highlights:

‚ÄčThe cake mix – this time, I thought a green cake mix would be a fun surprise for everyone. I got nervous when it came out of the oven looking like mottled green and brown on top, 

‚Äčbut when I was cutting it up to serve to the masses it was the vibrant green it advertised. 

‚ÄčThe blocks were part of the girls’ Minecraft playsets and the spider was A toy I bought for $10. It actually has wheels on it so it moves too. Brown icing and green sugar glitter made it more presentable. I wish I had taken pics after the candles were in and lit – it was so cool! 

‚ÄčMy little candle bundles. Red candles bundled together with a black one in the middle pushed up slightly higher to make a wick, wrapped with masking tape and I wrote “TNT” with a black Sharpie. Big hit!

‚ÄčOur balloons. Regular colored balloons I took a giant (the biggest I have EVER seen!) Sharpie to. I inhaled so much Sharpie smell I started getting dizzy. 

‚ÄčNow these little guys, I’m super proud of. While I was shopping at Walmart, I came across tiny cans of edible spray paint in the fondant section. I immediately grabbed them even though I wasn’t sure what I would wind up doing with it – but just look at ’em! Campfire marshmallows are bigger than the regular ones and worked perfectly for this idea. Then I just grabbed a small tube of black icing to draw on the faces. The kids went crazy for them!

‚ÄčPardon the bluriness, but you get an idea of how I decorated the ceiling fan over our table with poofy tissue paper balls and streamers torn into different lengths and tied to the fan blades. I went back and forth on whether I liked how it turned out, and there’s some debate on whether I almost set fire to the streamers while bringing the cake with the lit candles over to the birthday girl (I’m fairly certain there was no danger, but others watching disagree).

‚ÄčOur table spread. I layered black tablecloth under the green (thank you, dollar store!) So both colors showed on the bottom, found a pot of green necklaces at Party City for St. Patty’s day I comandeered for the party because what kid doesn’t like to layer on the bead necklaces, bought pudding cups that I added icing to in our theme colors, and found jello cups in lemon-lime that were the perfect color. Everyone loved it, but the icing did start running and get a little watery-looking if not eaten right away.

‚ÄčParty favors were a repeat of last year’s style, but almost all the candy was on sale this year and I didn’t make creeper faces on the cartons – I’d already inhaled way too much Sharpie and was afraid I’d go loopy! No one seemed to mind, but I wish I had done it.

So that’s my little’s Minecraft party in a nutshell. I also had green tassle banners over our balcony doors I didn’t get pics of, and spiders made out of balloons and streamers like the last time. All in all, the party was a huge hit and we all had a blast! Since we did so much ourselves it really kept the cost down which made me a happy mama.

A Stranger Called Me Fat Today.

That Mr. of mine plays a lot on the XBox and has made tons of friends on there…and a few frienemies. He has a headset so he can communicate with (aka, yell and/or boss around) the other guys on his team, and sometimes there are some heated moments. 

I guess today there was a guy on there making fun of autistic people. This immediately pisses off the Mr. He has worked with autistics for years and those people are near and dear to his heart. I’m not saying it was mature of him, but he turned the tables on the guy and started making fun of him. 

The guy proceeds to look my Mr. up on facebook (hello, creeper…) and make fun of me for being fat.

Yep. FAT. Wow…you’re a grown man and that’s what you come up with? I’m a little sad for him. Obviously he was so astounded by my big personality and shiny lady boobs that he couldn’t come up with anything better. 

Why does that always seem like “fat” is the default insult?  There’s so many better insults you can come up with! So disappointing, dude. 

So here’s my advise to him: take off the headset and go searching for those little bird eggs you call balls. You’re going to need them when you get tired of pounding palm town and finally venture out into the real world hoping for some female company that doesn’t involve “accidently” rubbing against someone at your local Walmart when you’re reaching for those hot pockets you’ll probably wind up going at American Pie style at. Grow up, little boy. In an actual fight, this fat lady would make you my bitch in about 30 seconds and then go make some cookies for my kids.

Just saying ūüėČ