Thursday, August 27, 2015

He's a warm hearted person who'll love me till the end.

(People let me tell you 'bout my best friend).


He's a warm hearted person who'll love me till the end.
People let me tell you bout my best friend,
He's a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy.

People let me tell you 'bout him he's so much fun
Whether we're talkin' man to man or whether we're talking son to son.
Cause he's my best friend.
Yes he's my best friend.

Yesterday was "National Dog Day". People shared pictures of their furry little friends on every social media site that you can think of. There were pictures to stare at for hours upon hours. Of course, I couldn't be left out, because I have the best ole pup in the world. And that's not an exaggeration, it's cold, hard facts, friends. Who is this amazing pup you may ask.

Tayder.

Yes, his name is Tayder and he picked it out all on his own. Which sounds dumb and made up, but I swear isn't. This little guy has been there and saved me in more than one way. He's never shunned me and listens to me like he's a human. Personally, I think that he is human and just using magic to pretend to be a canine so he can watch over me. And watch over me he does. I know this sounds dumb, but I think he might have actually saved my life..... And if not my life, then at least he saved a piece of my sanity that was on it's way out the door.

You see, at the time when we brought Tayder home, I wasn't quite in the best place mentally or physically that I could have been. Some things were going on in my life that I wasn't dealing with in the best possible way and everybody seemed to want to "get me help". I had to go to a counselor, then a psychiatrist. It was craziness and when I think back on it I can't believe that it actually went to "that" level. And you know what I mean when I say "that" level.

The psychiatrist that was working with me informed my mother that the best thing to do for me would be to send me to a place that could help me with my "psychological problems". Momma and I talked it over and I begged her not to send me away, I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay at home. Don't get me wrong, I don't think that there is anything wrong with getting professional help, but with all things I also don't think that it's for everybody. And at that particular time, it wasn't for me. She agreed and we started trying to find alternative ways to deal with the things that I had going on.

So, we tried it all. We tried the meds and we tried the exercise. I took more classes and did things to occupy my mind. I got up and did it. But, I was just going through the motions. I didn't "feel" any better. And frankly, I looked like shit. My hair was falling out, I dropped down to 86 pounds, I had dark circles around my eyes due to insomnia and I couldn't keep anything in the form of food down. It just wasn't a good time.

Then one day Momma got a bright idea. She told me to get into the car and she took me to a shelter. I walked around in that shelter looking at all of the dogs, trying to figure out why in the world she thought that bringing me to this incredibly sad place would make me feel better. She informed e that we would be adopting that day and while I would usually be giddy, because I want ALL the dogs, I just didn't get excited much. I started looking at the big dogs, so I could train them to attack my enemies, but Momma didn't think that was such a grand idea. And then she said- "What about him?" And when I looked up, there was the cutest little dog that I have ever seen in my entire life.

And it's moments like that, that make me believe in that old saying- "It was love at first sight". Because it really was. Love doesn't have to be romantic, it's just love. I adopted him right then and there and when we walked out the door of that shelter, he ran straight for our car and jumped into the window. It's like he knew. On our way home, I yelled out probably one hundred names to see if he would answer to any of them. And he just kept sitting on my lap with that head of his hanging out the window the whole time. It was a bit frustrating to say the least. Well, remember that movie- Cars? It was popular at that point, especially the character of- Mater. Finally, I said- "What in the hell do you want your name to be then?! Tater?!" And he turned around and started licking me in the face. So from that point on, that was his name. But I spelled it different, because I felt like he deserved something a little fancy.

Tayder didn't have the easiest life before us either. He was born at the shelter we had adopted him from and had spent the majority of his life in that little bitty cage. We like to refer to that period of time as the time he had to spend in "the home". You know, like "Shady Pines". (If you don't get that reference, we can't be friends). But now he's spoiled rotten and you won't meet a soul alive that's ever met him, that doesn't love him. Well, maybe a couple, the funny part? He really does try to attack my enemies!!

And I know it sounds weird, but once we adopted him, it's like I just started feeling better. And I'm not saying that adopting a puppy is the "magic cure", because there's just no such thing. However, like I said earlier, I do believe that different things work for different people. He didn't "make me better", but he helped. And he's been there ever since. He's my best friend (right along with Momma) and I wouldn't trade either of them for anything.

He's so funny. He demands to sleep under the covers and then growls at you when you move him around. He really does think that he's a human (so do I). He eats like a grown man and while he's not got as much energy as he used to, he's definitely still wonderful!! And that's not all that I could say about him, I could never write enough to tell him thank you for everything that he's done or how amazing that he is, but it's a small start.

So, Happy National Dog Day, Tayder!! I love you as much as any one person could ever love another!!  
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Wednesday, August 26, 2015

You need to check out. Bitch.

(I have a toothache).

I've had a toothache for five days. I have an appointment with my Dentist tomorrow at three to get this demon out of my head. I also called three other places to try and get in there to get it out sooner and still ended up with an appointment at my regular dentist. Because the other people that I talked to (at the other offices) concerning my situation were probably the least helpful people that I've dealt with in the last five years. And that's saying something. So, tomorrow, I go in and ask her to pull it. If she tries to talk me into "saving it" I might scream and throw things.

Dear tooth on the right side of my head and all the people that I talked to about trying to get it taken care of that were unhelpful, a letter from me to you:


I said good day. (If you don't get that reference, we can't be friends).

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Monday, August 24, 2015

My body is haunted.

(I'm not feeling ok at all anywhere).


How long has it been since I wrote and shared a post on a Monday?! Don't answer that.

All weekend I was a achy/tired wreck. It started Friday about one o'clock while I was still at work. I just started hurting and aching all over. You know how you feel when you have the flu? I felt like that except I wasn't sick at my stomach and I didn't have a fever. I was just super achy. It got worse after work, Momma and I ran to the store and the more we walked around, the more achy I became.

We finally got home and I took the hottest shower that I could stand. Seriously, it was one step away from singeing the skin off my bones. Then when I got out I sat back in Grammy's chair with a pillow and Tayder on the side of me. About an hour and a half later (I was so weak and achy I couldn't even turn Greg's YouTube channel when he got up), I rode with Momma to take Bubba to work and we stopped by the DQ to get some supper. (Chicken strips/fries & gravy!!). I was still real achy, but like I said, I didn't feel bad in any other way. So, Tayder and I chilled in Grammy's chair watching Supernatural for a few hours before we turned it back on regular TV.

Next thing I know, Momma was waking me up, because Tayder and I had passed out in the chair. He had gotten me real warm and snuggly and we were out. After she woke me up, I got up and went to my bed.

Saturday morning when I got up, I was still kind of achy, but not horrible, so I got ready and Momma and I went over to Aunt Poot and Uncle Darrell's so Greg and I could help Uncle Darrell cut down/trim the trees in their lot. Then Greg fixed the transmission pan in our car and Ashley wanted me to ride to the store with her. Not gonna lie, I didn't want to, because she takes forever to do everything, but I did, because Momma encouraged me to.

Like I predicted, she took forever and finally Aunt Poot called and Ash took me back over so Momma and I could go home. Her and I were solo Saturday night, because Greg went out with his girlfriend. I made us hamburger (hers plain, mine with taco seasoning) and proceeded to make and eat the best nachos EVER. And then she did her computer thing while Tayder and I did our Supernatural thing and I finally had to turn Supernatural off, because once again, I couldn't stay awake. Finally, we all went to bed.

Yesterday morning I woke up ridiculously early, because I was hurting so bad that I couldn't function. Seriously, I had to roll/gimp myself out of bed and into the bathroom to find the ibuprofen. Momma was pretty worried about me and kept asking me if I was ok, so I told her that I was fine, for her to go back to bed and I was just gonna take a shower and go back to bed myself. I did take a shower and I finally laid back down (in the fetal position) and dozed off for just a bit more. Not much later I got up, because I couldn't sleep anyways and Momma and I cleaned house and went to do laundry. Did I feel like it? Hell no. Did Momma feel like it? Most likely not. But it had to be done and no one else was going to do it for us, so we hopped on it.

We went over to Aunt Poot and Uncle Darrell's for a couple of hours after that and then we went home, because we were tired and I was once again achy. I know, you're seeing a whole pattern here. I cooked some food and Bubba and I decided to watch- Me, Myself & Irene. Somewhere around the middle Tayder and I fell asleep. When I finally woke up (at the end) I got up, went and took a shower and then Tayder and I snuggled together and watched- The Woman in Black 2: Angel of Death, before going to bed.

I woke up way earlier than what I had to this morning, because I was in pain and I took more ibuprofen, got ready and came to work. I still have no clue what's wrong. The only thing that I can think if is- My body is haunted by a poltergeist. 
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Friday, August 21, 2015

This work week has been 1,768,542 days long.

(So far, the only thing fun about this day is when Dani read this poem to me).


Have you guys ever had one of those weeks where you just know that it's never gonna end? This week has been that kind of week for me. It feels like I have had to drag myself out of bed and into work over and over again for a century and it's just now Friday.

Don't get me wrong. I'm very thankful for my job and can't express how much I appreciate the fact that the people I work with, work with me and my somewhat hectic life. That's not what I'm saying. I really am grateful.

But even the very most grateful people in the world have a moment or two. And this is my moment.

All week I was a day ahead. Which means that on Tuesday I was convinced that it was Wednesday. On Wednesday I swore that it was Thursday and yesterday should have been Friday in my mind. Do you know what that means? That means technically my brain and body feels like it should be Saturday and it doesn't want to do anything in the way of productivity.

No. It doesn't.

What those two little minxes want to do is be in sweatpants, take Benadryl and drink alcohol while Netflix'ing Supernatural, because we're almost through the first season. That's what they want to do. Is that what they get to do?!

NNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!

Instead it got to wake up earlier than usual, because the immense pain in my jaws (I've been grinding my teeth even more so than usual lately) wanted to start the day at three in the morning and then I had to make myself look like a semidecent looking human being and present myself until three thirty today.

Have I mentioned how much I'm TGIF'ing it today?!! Finally.....
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Sunday, August 16, 2015

I wanted to eat all of the dip.

This past Wednesday I decided it was the right evening to try out this new recipe that I had found from one (if not the) favorite bloggers of mine: Samantha Irby. You should probably go holler at her over at- Bitches Gotta Eat. She's hilarious and you will not regret it.

I ran across this recipe on her post about what to do for Christmas when you're not a very, let's say "holly jolly" person. And of course one of those things that you do is- EAT. She threw a few recipes out there and when I ran across the one entitled- Taco Dip, I knew that I had to eventually make it.


So, on Wednesday I did. And I have no regrets. I figured that it would be fairly decent, but that I would be the only one that would like it (it happens a lot when it comes to trying new recipes) and that I would be "Lone Rangering" it when it came to eating it.

Uh, I was very wrong. Greg wanted to eat like the entire pan of it and even Momma almost couldn't stop herself. I sent some home with Aunt Poot for Uncle Darrell and she ended up eating more of it than him. I was going to bring some to Dani, but I'm sure it's like five bazillion calories and then she would eat it all and want to murderize me, so I let that go.

Even Greg's girlfriend tried it. She didn't say anything either way to me, but I overheard her to Greg and apparently my cooking isn't "up to par" with hers. Whatevs, girl. I've ate your cooking, calm down, you are no Ina Garten.

I was in the middle of making it and realized that I didn't have any shredded cheese and shuffled through the options of either leaving the cheese out of it or using sliced cheese. Well, sliced cheese sounded very strange to me and leaving it out was just really no option at all (it needs the deliciousness of cheddar cheese). Therefore, I turned off the oven and Momma and I went to the grocery store to pick up shredded cheddar cheese. Worth it.

Seriously, this stuff was SO good and I definitely see me making it in my future. Basically, because my family demands it. Thanks, Samantha!!
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Thursday, August 13, 2015

Wish us luck- Take two.

Back in the middle of July I wrote a post detailing what was going on with Momma and the steps that we were taking to be preventative in our current circumstance. This was after my initial freak out and almost a month into all of it.

We've still been following the guidelines set forth and I've been making sure that it gets cleaned, dried, medicine applied and wrapped twice a day, everyday. What can I say? I'm a stickler when it comes to what the doctor says about her. And the doctor said  to do all of this, so all of this we have done.

It's looking better, at least to me. The black is slowly pulling back and even though the wound is still open, infection has staved off (knock on wood, fingers crossed) and all in all it seems to have good color. Healing slowly, but surely. Then again, I'm no doctor, contrary to what my mother actually believes. So, the opinion of an actual medical profession is required.

And that's what we're doing today. I'm leaving work today for a few hours, long enough to go to the doctor with Momma (Aunt Poot is once again driving us- Thank you!) and then back to work. It makes for a weird day, but I greatly appreciate the time to get to go with Momma to find out what the doctors say and what we need to do next. (Thanks, Dani!!) Plus, Momma prefers it when I go, because according to her and Poot they "don't understand all that witch talk". Yeah, "witch talk". My Momma and Aunt still think that all doctors are witch doctors and speak a fake language to trick them. It's pretty hilarious.

Update:

This appointment went really good. This was the first time going to this doctor and he was extremely nice. Definitely a very pleasant man and I'm glad that Momma was referred to him.

He removed the piece of the toe that was dead (It was just the fatty/pad part on the bottom) and informed us that he thinks that we can definitely save the toe. Phew!

After he removed the piece, he talked to us about the treatment plan and told me how it needs to be doctored from now on. Instead of cleaning and medicating it twice a day, everyday, it has been switched to once a day, every other day. This is because we have switched from the regular cleaning and original cream/triple antibiotic ointment and have gone to Silvercel Non-Adherent Anitmicrobial Alginate Dressings.

Which is basically a fancy way of saying it's a gray medicated pad that draws out infection and helps keep wounds sterile and medicated. It's used quite often in wound care and I've used it many times, so we've got this. We'll have to wrap it when she takes a shower, because it has to stay dry, but that's no problem!

Her toe was already looking better, but now that he has removed that one piece that wasn't breaking apart like we wanted (i.e. dead), it looks SO much better. Thank you, Doctor Abdo!! She goes back in two weeks, but it's only for a check-up. When it comes to wound care, doctors like to check in frequently. Which is just fine by me!!

So, there we are with it. It's doing better and we have our orders again. It only took us 2.5 hours total to go to this new doctor and figure everything out and I'm really glad that we did!! I know she's feeling beyond relieved with this news and aside from the fact that Aunt Poot almost hurled everywhere when I unwrapped Momma's toe to begin with, I know that she's glad that she went and knows that it's getting better to.

I know I am. I try to put on a brave face for Momma, but I do worry about her. I love her and I don't want anything to happen to her and I try to take care of her. She's my Momma, Best Friend, Confidant, Go-to and my Heart. She has to be ok. And we are well on our way to helping her get better with this whole foot/toe thing. And I for one, couldn't be happier about it!!
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Wednesday, August 12, 2015

We should probably find a different laundromat.

Last Friday when I got off of work Momma and I had (pre)decided that we were going to go do laundry, as opposed to waiting until Saturday or Sunday morning. We were both tired and hungry, but wanted to just get it out of the way. (I was out of underwear. TMI? Sorry).

I had on my regular lounge bottoms and just the tank top I had been wearing underneath of my work shirt and didn't really think too much about it. Also, I was in house shoes, because we all know how "fancy" I am. I.e- Not fancy at all.

I was standing there, folding our laundry, minding my own business when the woman at the table across from me started talking to me. I'm not big on talking to people when I'm thinking about alcohol, food and replaying Sons of Anarchy episodes in my head, but I'm also not incredibly rude for no reason and started having a conversation with her.

And then the dude that was at the table behind me, well, let's just say that he.....


That's right. He thought that I was a hooker. Or I guess, "call girl" depending on which one does applications and/or has clients. I assume both have clients, but I don't think hookers take applications or background checks. In all fairness though, I'm not really sure if call girls do either, so I guess it could be either or. I really should look into that.

The point is he walked up to me while I was folding underwear and jeans and slid his number to me all "inconspicuous" and leaned in to whisper- "You know, in case you're excepting new applications". To which I promptly said- "Huh?!" And he gave me this little smirk like I was playing coy (I wasn't I legitimately had no clue what he was talking about) and was like- "You know, in case you might add another client." And then he winked at me and I said- "EXCUSE ME?!"

And he looked shocked for a minute and the look that eventually came to his face can only be described as an "OH SHIT" one for the history books. Then he tried the ultimate and was all- "Oh. My mistake. Can I just take you out to dinner then?"

No. No, Ottis, you can't. Although, I was really hungry and there's a Taco Bell across the street. But no.

And then he preceded to follow me out to our car and try the whole- "Your car is red to?! See! We're meant for each other" line that I assume he had seen on a random TV show and was all- "I gotta use that the next time that I inadvertently mistake a chick for a hooker and want to take her out to dinner".

I still don't understand why he mistook me for a hooker (or call girl, it's still undecided). I was in lounge pants and house shoes. Sure, I was wearing a tanktop, but it's not like it was showing all of my business off. I don't even own clothes that do that. And I know that he walked up and did all of this when I was folding my underwear, but it's not like they're sexy or something. Unless you have some weird fetish that I'm unaware of. They're so unsexy that they're just called underwear. Not panties, but underwear. I'm just so confused.
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Tuesday, August 11, 2015

I laughed so hard that milk came out of my nose.

(Tayder is just the cutest little "hunter" around).


Ever since I have gotten Netflix I decided to try out some different shows. You know, shows that I've never seen, or it's been quite a few years since I have. I started out small, only watching- Burn Notice. And that lasted into season five and now they've added a new guy and I just don't know anymore. Don't get me wrong, I still want to finish it, but I decided I needed to break it up a bit.

Enter- That 70s Show. I watched this show more than I can count and have loved it for years. It literally came out when I was a kid (1998) and even though I didn't understand half the jokes or references, I still loved it. But I couldn't leave well enough alone, because then I had to start adding one more.....and another.....and another. And now, I have started like six or seven shows. And it's one of those- "I intend to finish them all", but then things get completely out of control and next thing you know, I've started ALL the shows.

So far- Burn Notice, That 70s Show, Hemlock Grove, Queer as Folk (Judge if you want, but that show is hilarious and Brian McKinney is fine as hell!!), and now.....

The League.

Uh, how have I not watched this show before?! It's damn hilarious!! If you haven't ever heard of it (Don't feel bad, I was left out in the cold too), I'll give you a little rundown: Five guys are in a Fantasy Football League (with three additional players that live out of town) and one guys wife really wants to be in the league, but they won't let her, so she just helps other players for revenge.

Danielle told me about it awhile back, but I thought- How much fun can watching some people play Fantasy Football be? The answer is- Damn hilarious!! I was going through a few shows yesterday evening trying to find something that held my interest and just couldn't stick to anything. I ran across- The League, and thought what the hell, I'll watch a couple episodes to see what it's all about and see if it's any good.

I'm currently on season two. Yes, shit escalated that quickly. But I mean, when you have a character named Taco and you have lines like this-

"There’s a really distinctive smell of embarrassment in here. Seems to also be seasoned with a lovely aroma of shame and marinated in a thick sauce of regret, so that’s just fucking great."

How do you not love it? So, that's where I was last night. I was watching The League and finally ate chips/salsa and sour patch kids for supper. Because I'm an adult, that's why! Thank God we're going to the grocery store tonight. Also, Tayder (You know, "The Great White Hunter") caught a damn mouse last night (he's the best cat-dog in the world!!) and I had to get it away from him and take it out to get rid of it, because my brother is a scaredy-cat and a poon. That is all. 
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Wednesday, August 5, 2015

What is a "healthier" lifestyle compared to spaghetti?

I, like every other woman ever, have these random moments in my life where I think to myself- I really could stand to lose some weight. I think, I should diet, exercise, perhaps take up yoga and maybe even look into veganism. I'll definitely have to quit drinking alcohol and no more candy for me. And then I let these thoughts run their course through my brain and the outcome is always the same.

HA.....Ha.....ha.....HAHAHAHAHAHA.....HA.....HA.....Ha.....

Yeah, I'm not going to do any of that.


You see, I have always had fluctuating weight. Not healthy I'm aware, but an ever present factor in my life. I'm at the largest that I've ever been, but I'm still not an unhealthy weight. I weighed 102 pounds for the better part of my life, but my weight has fluctuated from 86 pounds (Don't worry, I was sick) to 137 pounds (my current weight). And you know what? I'm ok with either. I look much bigger than I am, simply because I'm a solid 5 ft. (Get it? 5 foot at 137 pounds, solid? Ha. I crack myself up) and some of the time I catch people side eyeing me, but do you know what we always say to those people?

Bless your heart.

Besides I can't tell why they're judging me. There's no question that they are in fact judging me, but there's no telling what for. I mean, there are a range of things that it could be for. I like to give people options. It could be anything from my weight to the fact that my hair never looks brushed (probably because it hardly ever is). Or, it could be my amazing taste in over-sized bands shirts from the 70s/80s and my ability to uncoordinate them with my cutoff sweatpants. Also, I sometimes wear my house shoes out in public (What?! They're comfy!!) and go out without makeup quite often. I don't hide the fact that I eat all of the food that I find delicious and drink copious amounts of alcohol. I fully expect to see myself on one of those "People of Walmart" articles one of these days.

I just have better things to do than to care what they think. People always have something to say. I was just talking to a friend of mine today (Remind me to tell y'all about that one) and was reminded of the time that a friend of mines mom started hating me, because I wouldn't try to break him and his girlfriend up by using my sexuality. I know, I didn't want to be a home-wrecking hoe, how dare me.

The way that I look at it, as long as I'm happy, what does it matter? So, Joe Blow doesn't find me attractive or Nosy Rosy thinks I need to lose weight? Who the hell cares? Obviously, them, not me. I could care less. I like eating candy and fast food while watching unreasonable amounts of television and wearing sweatpants and old t-shirts. The only time I care about my weight is when I have to put on "real pants" for work. I used to take for granted the fact that I wore scrub pants everyday, but people shouldn't, because they're amazing. I put on "real pants" in the mornings and I'm like- I should lose some weight. And then that whole HA.....Ha......ha thought process hits me again and I quickly move it to the wayside to make room for all the things that I need to add to my Netflix list and the thought of delicious squared cinnamon/sugar doughnuts that are obviously made by a sorcerer.
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