Showing posts with label It's Legit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label It's Legit. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
I might actually be getting my face back.... that sounded creepy. 🤓🤓🤓
The day after tomorrow I have an eye appointment and I'm looking into.... contacts. Maybe... jury's still deliberating and such.
You see, I don't have good eyesight. In fact, calling it "poor eyesight" as my doctor says is "putting it easy." Essentially, my eyeballs suck and don't want to do their f*cking job. Apparently they're so "blue" that they're almost "translucent" and that's why I can't stand bright lights. I repeat, my eyeballs can't stand bright light, because they're "defective."
What. the. f*ck.... why won't you eyeball, eyeballs?!!?!
Moving on.... back in February 2017 I finally sucked it up and went to get glasses, because I was driving regularly, and lord knows I watch too much tv (#noregrets), and basically it got to where I couldn't even do my work right, because I couldn't see it and ugh being an adult is hard.
I had to get giant framed glasses, because I've tried to get used to wearing small frames before and it never works out for me. That's why I've never stuck with my glasses (that I've needed since I was probably around fifteen?), because I just kept staring at the frames and couldn't break the habit and get used to them. And of course, I would rather see than look decent, so I was all #1: I'm getting these big f*cking glasses so I can function and #2: I don't need contacts, I'll just wear glasses all the time, it makes more sense.
Apparently I didn't think that through all the way. It's not so much about the way they look (we've even had our good days in the look department together), but sometimes they're just terribly inconvenient. And I feel like contacts would be a nice thing to have around. And I could even maybe wear my eye makeup again (but I wouldn't count on it, because lazy).
Don't get me wrong, I'll still have my glasses to fall back on (with my allergies it would be dumb not to make sure I had another option in case my eyes are screwy from pollen and such), but for the most part I would like to see my face again. Although, it will be weird to get used to, because I've literally had it partially covered for over a year (a year and four months?) now.
Wish me luck. Not for the touching my eyeball part, because that doesn't bother me AT ALL, but for the price part. Because trying to see, because your eyeballs won't work right is frustrating.... and expensive.
What. the. f*ck.... why won't you eyeball, eyeballs?!!?!
Moving on.... back in February 2017 I finally sucked it up and went to get glasses, because I was driving regularly, and lord knows I watch too much tv (#noregrets), and basically it got to where I couldn't even do my work right, because I couldn't see it and ugh being an adult is hard.
I had to get giant framed glasses, because I've tried to get used to wearing small frames before and it never works out for me. That's why I've never stuck with my glasses (that I've needed since I was probably around fifteen?), because I just kept staring at the frames and couldn't break the habit and get used to them. And of course, I would rather see than look decent, so I was all #1: I'm getting these big f*cking glasses so I can function and #2: I don't need contacts, I'll just wear glasses all the time, it makes more sense.
Apparently I didn't think that through all the way. It's not so much about the way they look (we've even had our good days in the look department together), but sometimes they're just terribly inconvenient. And I feel like contacts would be a nice thing to have around. And I could even maybe wear my eye makeup again (but I wouldn't count on it, because lazy).
Don't get me wrong, I'll still have my glasses to fall back on (with my allergies it would be dumb not to make sure I had another option in case my eyes are screwy from pollen and such), but for the most part I would like to see my face again. Although, it will be weird to get used to, because I've literally had it partially covered for over a year (a year and four months?) now.
Wish me luck. Not for the touching my eyeball part, because that doesn't bother me AT ALL, but for the price part. Because trying to see, because your eyeballs won't work right is frustrating.... and expensive.
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
You call it a gift.... I call it tornado weather. *insert paranoid look here*
It’s currently February 20th and 73° outside.... what. the. f*ck?!!?! (You would think I would want to be outside, but I don't).
Am I the only one that feels like this is some godawful trick? Like, I appreciate not freezing my ass off and my toes not turning blue from sloshing around in ice/snow/rain/salt at 6:00am, but there’s no way this is gonna turn out well for us. Hey, people who don’t think global warming is a thing.... what up?!!?!
Since when should we expect to go around in capris and a tshirt in the middle (middlish? endish?) of February?!
I don't remember agreeing to it and even though most people are happy about it, I'm 157% sure that we're gonna have to pay for this "good" weather in the next few weeks.
I don't remember agreeing to it and even though most people are happy about it, I'm 157% sure that we're gonna have to pay for this "good" weather in the next few weeks.
You could probably chalk all of this up to my raised in the holler paranoia (we all have it and believe in it where I was raised), but I swear, this is perfect tornado weather.
And no, I’m not wishing for one (because no thank you and then some).... but, there’s no doubt in my mind that this is the weather for it. Warm during a normally cold season.... humidity in the air, but also maintaining a cool breeze.... sporadic raindrops.... and utter peacefulness in the middle of the night.
It’s so warm that I actually had to turn our A/C on for a couple of hours tonight, because it got 81° in our house and Tayder and I do not sleep well when it’s hot (in all fairness though, I hardly ever sleep anyways and keep him up by extension). 81° IN F*CKING FEBRUARY.
We may get lucky though (fingers crossed), because it’s supposed to be getting back down into the thirties/forties and stay pretty consistent for the rest of the week (not including all the rain that’s heading in).
Wish us luck.... and remember, this is only the semi-drunken rambling of a gal who drinks too much wine. (Too much? HA!).
Saturday, January 13, 2018
My irrational fears: Sharks and why I fear the ocean out of respect.
Someone asked me one time what I was scared of. Afterall, some people are scared of spiders or small spaces, others clowns, and honestly the list just keeps going on. I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head, so I let them know I wasn’t sure.
Of course, jokes were made that “I wasn’t scared of anything” and I “must be related to John Rambo” but the truth is, there are things that scare me. I just needed a minute to think them through.
You see, I have fears that are a little.... how should I say this?.... we'll go with odd. I wouldn’t say I’m the oddest given the fact that some people are afraid of cellophane, but that’s neither here nor there.
My list of fears include: ventriloquist dummies, outer space, falling from high places (I’m not actually afraid of heights, but I am afraid of falling from somewhere high), Freddy Kreuger.... and sharks.
Actually, if I’m being fair, the entire ocean in general petrifies me, but I’m sticking with sharks on this go around. I’m not sure why, when I was a kid I loved swimming out and would go out pretty far. I wasn’t in the same skill set as an Olympic swimmer or anything, but I was decent enough. My brother, cousins, friends, and I used to horse around out there with no more than a half thought. We would all be out there for HOURS and never once did we think about being eaten alive.
And now? It seems the older I get, the more bodies of water sharks terrify me.
It probably doesn’t help that some of my favorite movies include sharks (have y’all seen Deep Blue Sea?), and that I won’t stop watching them, even though clearly it’s becoming a problem. (Anxiety, amirite?!).
So, what does my dumbass do even though it could potentially give me heart failure?! Well, I watched a particularly terrifying movie that was literally my worst f*cking nightmare crammed into 85 minutes.... 47 Meters Down.
Yeah, because that isn’t my greatest fear come true.
You know what I learned from this movie?! I learned that #1: You NEVER trust a man named Taylor and #2: If you have a fear and your gut is telling you to not do that shit, then you should probably listen to yourself and NOT do it.
Also, if you have a fear of sharks that takes you to the point of hyperventilation.... you should probably be smarter than me and stop watching shark movies. You know, those who can't do, teach, and such.
Thursday, January 4, 2018
I think I could make a pretty fancy beer funnel out of that.
As I'm sure most people know (the ones that follow along with my life and listen to my incessant rambling at least), Momma had to have emergency/life saving/altering surgery back in July 2017 and ever since that time she has been a real trooper.
Sure, she's had her good days and her bad days.... but we all have those. Her good days have far outnumbered the bad and for the most part she's felt really good. Just a little cold or headache on occasion, like us all.
We figured this winter was going to be hard on her, because it is the first "cold season" that she'll be dealing with now that she has an amputation. Although we tried to be as prepared as we could, this winter has been unusually cold for the Midwest (seriously, it's supposed to be -20° tomorrow morning and it's already -8° degrees today), so it's been a bit more of a struggle. She's usually pretty good if she can stay in and has her meds on time, but you can't just stay in the house 24/7 (although, I'm so cold right now that sounds pretty damn sweet), so some days she's more achy than others.
But, as always, she's a real trooper and is taken it all as it comes at her. I don't think she'll ever know how much I love her and how proud I am.
Today was one of those "special" days that you hear about when it comes to a surgery like she had. Because today, on this cold mother-f*cking Thursday.... she got her prosthetic.
I didn't get to go with her to the doctor, because I had to work, but on the first day she got to walk again, I was 100% there (and cried a little). She text me as soon as she got out of the doctor's office and when I got home she did a lap around the house with me. (She's only allowed to wear it for two hours a day for now as she adjusts to it and practices).
Her and I usually get through all things in life with.... sarcasm. I know, you never would have guessed that with me, but it's true. (And yeah, you probably already knew that). So, whenever we can we joke and laugh. Which lead to this conversation:
Momma: "Puss, look at my prosthetic." Me: "Wow, Momma.... that's pretty nice." Momma: "I know. What do you think?" Me: "I think I could make a pretty decent beer funnel out of that." Momma: "No, Katherine Diane! You CANNOT convert my prosthetic into a fancy beer funnel!" Me: "Uh huh, you're really regretting that whole encouraging my creative side when I was a child thing now huh?!" She laughed, I laughed, and it was a great thing to share.
And with that, my friends, I'm out.
We figured this winter was going to be hard on her, because it is the first "cold season" that she'll be dealing with now that she has an amputation. Although we tried to be as prepared as we could, this winter has been unusually cold for the Midwest (seriously, it's supposed to be -20° tomorrow morning and it's already -8° degrees today), so it's been a bit more of a struggle. She's usually pretty good if she can stay in and has her meds on time, but you can't just stay in the house 24/7 (although, I'm so cold right now that sounds pretty damn sweet), so some days she's more achy than others.
But, as always, she's a real trooper and is taken it all as it comes at her. I don't think she'll ever know how much I love her and how proud I am.
Today was one of those "special" days that you hear about when it comes to a surgery like she had. Because today, on this cold mother-f*cking Thursday.... she got her prosthetic.
I didn't get to go with her to the doctor, because I had to work, but on the first day she got to walk again, I was 100% there (and cried a little). She text me as soon as she got out of the doctor's office and when I got home she did a lap around the house with me. (She's only allowed to wear it for two hours a day for now as she adjusts to it and practices).
Her and I usually get through all things in life with.... sarcasm. I know, you never would have guessed that with me, but it's true. (And yeah, you probably already knew that). So, whenever we can we joke and laugh. Which lead to this conversation:
Momma: "Puss, look at my prosthetic." Me: "Wow, Momma.... that's pretty nice." Momma: "I know. What do you think?" Me: "I think I could make a pretty decent beer funnel out of that." Momma: "No, Katherine Diane! You CANNOT convert my prosthetic into a fancy beer funnel!" Me: "Uh huh, you're really regretting that whole encouraging my creative side when I was a child thing now huh?!" She laughed, I laughed, and it was a great thing to share.
And with that, my friends, I'm out.
Monday, November 6, 2017
When you decide to cut "all" of your hair off (or in my case, a few inches).
Ok, maybe "all of" your hair is a little dramatic when it comes to me, because I still have a shit ton of hair left.... BUT I did get over a foot of it cut off, so that has to count for something, right?!
See, what happened was I've been talking about getting my hair cut for MONTHS, if not a couple of years. And while I didn't get the dramatic cut that I kept talking about, because I'm a giant puss, I did get quite a bit of it chopped.
How much? Well.... over a foot. And more than four pounds (and I know this, because she weighed it at four pounds and she had already swept some of it up).
Count it. FOUR. POUNDS.
Who would've thought it would be so easy to lose some weight? Just get a pretty big haircut and it apparently does the trick. And it's so hilarious, because I had so much hair chopped off and there's still SO much of it. Usually this is what people look like in the "before" photos when they're going to get a bunch of hair chopped off.
But you know what? It feel better, it's not as hard to brush as it was, I use 3/10 of the shampoo and conditioner that I was using, I have less hair to wrangle and clean up (I shed like a German Shepard), and it just seems generally easier to deal with (which is my favorite part).
And sure, it was cool having really long hair and it made me feel fancy (only in my head, never in everyday life), because society has kind of always grinded the fact that "women should have long hair" into our brains, but this is the length that I always used to wear my hair and I like it.
Next time I go for a trim I might even go shorter.
See, what happened was I've been talking about getting my hair cut for MONTHS, if not a couple of years. And while I didn't get the dramatic cut that I kept talking about, because I'm a giant puss, I did get quite a bit of it chopped.
How much? Well.... over a foot. And more than four pounds (and I know this, because she weighed it at four pounds and she had already swept some of it up).
Who would've thought it would be so easy to lose some weight? Just get a pretty big haircut and it apparently does the trick. And it's so hilarious, because I had so much hair chopped off and there's still SO much of it. Usually this is what people look like in the "before" photos when they're going to get a bunch of hair chopped off.
But you know what? It feel better, it's not as hard to brush as it was, I use 3/10 of the shampoo and conditioner that I was using, I have less hair to wrangle and clean up (I shed like a German Shepard), and it just seems generally easier to deal with (which is my favorite part).
And sure, it was cool having really long hair and it made me feel fancy (only in my head, never in everyday life), because society has kind of always grinded the fact that "women should have long hair" into our brains, but this is the length that I always used to wear my hair and I like it.
Next time I go for a trim I might even go shorter.
Friday, August 25, 2017
Rearranging our office. (And now people can stay away from us).
Most of the people that know me know that I have personal space issues. Not in the sense that I invade other people's personal space, because I don't know boundaries, but in the sense that I can't stand for many people to be in mine.
And it's not like that with everyone. If I know you very well and love you then you're more than welcome into my personal space.... mostly sometimes. I try not to be a giant pain in the ass with it, but sometimes, you just can't let shit go.
For the past (almost) five years, Danielle and I have shared quite a bit of our personal space (and she's just as bad at it as I am, if not worse) while at work. Our desks were right next to each other, scooched up against the back wall of our office. If you need a little guide to know how close we had to spend about nine hours a day/5 days a week together then just know, we shared a power surger. And not the extension cord kind.
And it was like this, because we had no space. And I don't mean that metaphorically, I mean that literally.... WE HAD ZERO SPACE. Our entire office was filled with two desks and enough file cabinets to drive a gal insane. This is how little space we had.... we had to store files on our "deck" that was basically falling down and we risked our lives every single day that we attempted to go out there.
Everything was dirty and disgusting.... and cluttered.
But ever since we had an additional room added onto our office to replace the janky deck (remember?) we've been slowly trying to pull things together and set up a system to make things more efficient (we were basically just "winging it" until then). FINALLY the additional room was complete and half ass pulled together, but we were still cluttered in our office.
You see, no matter how many good intentions that we had, the fact that our company has been busier this year than it has been in years (yay!) has made it incredibly difficult to complete (or even start) certain tasks. We usually don't stop working from the time we show up until the time we leave and there's always a stack of shit to pick up with the next day. So, we've kind of just been dealing with it.
Until today.
And today Danielle decided (technically she decided this on Tuesday?) that we were going to make the time to rearrange our office since we FINALLY have the room for it. Further down the road they're wanting to repaint and put some new flooring down, but that's still awhile off, because SO. DAMN. BUSY. So, we decided we might as well get everything moved around to see if it would work and how we would like it.
Sidenote: watching her and I try to move two bigass fireproof/bombproof/judgement day proof file cabinets was hilarious. We yanked and pulled and pushed with all of our might and.... nothing. Forreal, those things wouldn't budge. But no worries.... we never admit defeat! I mean, we might be defeated, but we'll never admit it.
Guess what?! We LOVE it. And I'm not one that drops the "L" word at every whipstitch. It really is just that much better and instead of being so close together that we're almost sharing a chair, now we're.... ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE ROOM. And we're both pretty damn happy about it. I mean, I love her, but COME ON.... we needed space. And now we have it and our office is more open for other activities.... let the Nerf wars begin.
And it's not like that with everyone. If I know you very well and love you then you're more than welcome into my personal space.... mostly sometimes. I try not to be a giant pain in the ass with it, but sometimes, you just can't let shit go.
For the past (almost) five years, Danielle and I have shared quite a bit of our personal space (and she's just as bad at it as I am, if not worse) while at work. Our desks were right next to each other, scooched up against the back wall of our office. If you need a little guide to know how close we had to spend about nine hours a day/5 days a week together then just know, we shared a power surger. And not the extension cord kind.
And it was like this, because we had no space. And I don't mean that metaphorically, I mean that literally.... WE HAD ZERO SPACE. Our entire office was filled with two desks and enough file cabinets to drive a gal insane. This is how little space we had.... we had to store files on our "deck" that was basically falling down and we risked our lives every single day that we attempted to go out there.
Everything was dirty and disgusting.... and cluttered.
But ever since we had an additional room added onto our office to replace the janky deck (remember?) we've been slowly trying to pull things together and set up a system to make things more efficient (we were basically just "winging it" until then). FINALLY the additional room was complete and half ass pulled together, but we were still cluttered in our office.
You see, no matter how many good intentions that we had, the fact that our company has been busier this year than it has been in years (yay!) has made it incredibly difficult to complete (or even start) certain tasks. We usually don't stop working from the time we show up until the time we leave and there's always a stack of shit to pick up with the next day. So, we've kind of just been dealing with it.
Until today.
And today Danielle decided (technically she decided this on Tuesday?) that we were going to make the time to rearrange our office since we FINALLY have the room for it. Further down the road they're wanting to repaint and put some new flooring down, but that's still awhile off, because SO. DAMN. BUSY. So, we decided we might as well get everything moved around to see if it would work and how we would like it.
Sidenote: watching her and I try to move two bigass fireproof/bombproof/judgement day proof file cabinets was hilarious. We yanked and pulled and pushed with all of our might and.... nothing. Forreal, those things wouldn't budge. But no worries.... we never admit defeat! I mean, we might be defeated, but we'll never admit it.
Guess what?! We LOVE it. And I'm not one that drops the "L" word at every whipstitch. It really is just that much better and instead of being so close together that we're almost sharing a chair, now we're.... ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE ROOM. And we're both pretty damn happy about it. I mean, I love her, but COME ON.... we needed space. And now we have it and our office is more open for other activities.... let the Nerf wars begin.
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
I didn't realize how blind I was.
Nor did I realize how big my nose is or how uneven my ears set. I'm not trying to be philosophical or anything, I literally didn't realize how bad my vision was. I knew that my eyes weren't exactly the best, but I had no clue about how much I was actually missing. I can actually read street signs now.
Because glasses.
I had to make an eye appointment last week and go in for an eye exam.... I have been having trouble with seeing far off for awhile now and everything was kind of blurry and fuzzy. I got the exam on Friday and picked up my glasses on Saturday (quick and painless, just how it should get to be).... I might have been able to get them on Friday, but their system was down and I would've had to pay 100% out of pocket without my insurance.... NO THANKS, I'LL COME BACK TOMORROW.
The tests were painless and my new optometrist explained to me why I'm so sensitive to light (I have large pupils and my eyes are so blue that they're almost translucent- his words, not mine- so that is the two highest strikes against eyes when it comes to dealing with light)- it's not going anywhere- and he informed me that when I'm not in the shower or sleeping, I have to wear my glasses. Like, we're talking a whole lot of wearing glasses.
Because my eyesight sucks and I'm a hazard- again, his words.
I would have talked about this sooner, but I had to drop a line or two about Superbowl LI (but mostly just to have an excuse to share a pic of Gronk). And for the first two days (Sat and Sun) my new glasses made me feel drunk.... and not in the good way.
I'll be twenty-seven in a few days and I'm chubby, have acne, and now have to wear glasses constantly.... it's like I'm reliving my awkward years and I call foul. I thought these things were supposed to improve with age, but apparently I was mistaken. In any event, I'm still getting used to these things (I won't be doing contacts, I'll just learn to live with glasses), but I don't feel quite as drunk today as I did the day before (it improves every day), so.... winning?!!
Because glasses.
I had to make an eye appointment last week and go in for an eye exam.... I have been having trouble with seeing far off for awhile now and everything was kind of blurry and fuzzy. I got the exam on Friday and picked up my glasses on Saturday (quick and painless, just how it should get to be).... I might have been able to get them on Friday, but their system was down and I would've had to pay 100% out of pocket without my insurance.... NO THANKS, I'LL COME BACK TOMORROW.
The tests were painless and my new optometrist explained to me why I'm so sensitive to light (I have large pupils and my eyes are so blue that they're almost translucent- his words, not mine- so that is the two highest strikes against eyes when it comes to dealing with light)- it's not going anywhere- and he informed me that when I'm not in the shower or sleeping, I have to wear my glasses. Like, we're talking a whole lot of wearing glasses.
Because my eyesight sucks and I'm a hazard- again, his words.
I would have talked about this sooner, but I had to drop a line or two about Superbowl LI (but mostly just to have an excuse to share a pic of Gronk). And for the first two days (Sat and Sun) my new glasses made me feel drunk.... and not in the good way.
I'll be twenty-seven in a few days and I'm chubby, have acne, and now have to wear glasses constantly.... it's like I'm reliving my awkward years and I call foul. I thought these things were supposed to improve with age, but apparently I was mistaken. In any event, I'm still getting used to these things (I won't be doing contacts, I'll just learn to live with glasses), but I don't feel quite as drunk today as I did the day before (it improves every day), so.... winning?!!
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
If. If. If. If. If.
There could be some kind of motivational quote for "if".... but I can't find it (just "what if" quotes), so I'm just going to spew random things that I probably need to do (or have done), but I have limited motivation for the day.... be gentle.
If cable doesn't quit being so expensive: we're going to have to turn all of it off and live like it's 1986 (i.e. no cable, wifi, or telephone).... oh, wait! We've already done that. Momma told them to turn our service off (without warning) and like I said, it's 1986. Except we have a blu-ray player.... but no wifi, so you can't stream anything. We can watch blu-rays/dvds, and I own Blue Collar Comedy, so.... win? Hopefully we'll find a service with cheap wifi and get it hooked back up, so we can stream Netflix and such again, but cable? That's a negatory, Ghost Rider.
If I weren't such a chicken shit: I would chop every single bit of my hair off and start rocking one of those short little pixie cuts (I think?) like Lauren Cohan. Say what you want about The Walking Dead (or her character on Supernatural/The Vampire Diaries.... apparently people have a whole lot to say about those?), but that girl can rock some short hair. Don't get me wrong, she's a beautiful gal and can pull of long tresses too, but short hair? She owns that shit.
If today were a friend of mine's birthday: (it is), I would leave said friend a birthday message along the lines of this: Happy Birthday!! You should be told that you're special every single day.... but on this day especially. I could never tell you what it is I actually want to tell you, because even I don't know what it would be, but I just wanted to let you know that you're thought of on this day.... one day of many. It's so very comforting to know that no matter how old I get, and however many old age habits hit me in the face, that you will reach them all just a little bit before me. I hope you have the most fantastic day that you could ever have and that it's full of love, fun, laughter, friends, and family. You deserve it all, wish you were here.... Happy Birthday. (P.s. Momma says Happy Birthday, she loves you, and she misses you too.).
If I remembered anything about my banking system: (I don't unless I look about a million things up) I would do my taxes just so they would be done and over with. Dani taught me how to do my own taxes three or four years ago and needless to say it's saved me $200+ a year doing them myself. Just call me Han, because I'm Solo(ing) it on this one. Did that sound as strange to read as it did when I said it n my head?
If it was later in the week: I wouldn't currently be calling Tuesday "day two of the hostage situation." Somehow it's been an incredibly long week.... and it's only Tuesday. I want it to be later, but what I want doesn't really seem to help.... therefore, here we are. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning and I almost fell back asleep after I turned my alarm off. I was trying to will myself awake.... and had very little to no "will."
If cable doesn't quit being so expensive: we're going to have to turn all of it off and live like it's 1986 (i.e. no cable, wifi, or telephone).... oh, wait! We've already done that. Momma told them to turn our service off (without warning) and like I said, it's 1986. Except we have a blu-ray player.... but no wifi, so you can't stream anything. We can watch blu-rays/dvds, and I own Blue Collar Comedy, so.... win? Hopefully we'll find a service with cheap wifi and get it hooked back up, so we can stream Netflix and such again, but cable? That's a negatory, Ghost Rider.
If I weren't such a chicken shit: I would chop every single bit of my hair off and start rocking one of those short little pixie cuts (I think?) like Lauren Cohan. Say what you want about The Walking Dead (or her character on Supernatural/The Vampire Diaries.... apparently people have a whole lot to say about those?), but that girl can rock some short hair. Don't get me wrong, she's a beautiful gal and can pull of long tresses too, but short hair? She owns that shit.
If today were a friend of mine's birthday: (it is), I would leave said friend a birthday message along the lines of this: Happy Birthday!! You should be told that you're special every single day.... but on this day especially. I could never tell you what it is I actually want to tell you, because even I don't know what it would be, but I just wanted to let you know that you're thought of on this day.... one day of many. It's so very comforting to know that no matter how old I get, and however many old age habits hit me in the face, that you will reach them all just a little bit before me. I hope you have the most fantastic day that you could ever have and that it's full of love, fun, laughter, friends, and family. You deserve it all, wish you were here.... Happy Birthday. (P.s. Momma says Happy Birthday, she loves you, and she misses you too.).
If I remembered anything about my banking system: (I don't unless I look about a million things up) I would do my taxes just so they would be done and over with. Dani taught me how to do my own taxes three or four years ago and needless to say it's saved me $200+ a year doing them myself. Just call me Han, because I'm Solo(ing) it on this one. Did that sound as strange to read as it did when I said it n my head?
If it was later in the week: I wouldn't currently be calling Tuesday "day two of the hostage situation." Somehow it's been an incredibly long week.... and it's only Tuesday. I want it to be later, but what I want doesn't really seem to help.... therefore, here we are. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning and I almost fell back asleep after I turned my alarm off. I was trying to will myself awake.... and had very little to no "will."
Monday, October 24, 2016
Hummin.... uhhh.... what kind of cake?!
Have y'all ever heard of hummingbird cake?
If not, I'm going to go ahead and tell you that it's a whole lot less disgusting than it sounds (i.e. no hummingbirds were injured in the making of this cake).
I was actually pretty young the first time that I had heard of it (it's a widely popular southern dessert), but hadn't ever had the opportunity to try it (and probably wouldn't have depending on my age, because I would've been under the impression that it was bird cake.... no thanks).
Recently I had stumbled upon it (I don't even remember what I was reading that mentioned it), and once I learned what it actually was, I had to give it a try. Afterall, who doesn't want this kind of snack lying around for a chilly/tv watching treat on a weekend (i.e. it pairs great with alcohol)?
The recipe (I just googled "easy hummingbird cake recipes") calls for: yellow or white boxed cake mix (for us lazy folks that like our shit at least 1/2 made already), bananas, maraschino cherries, crushed pineapple, cinnamon, pecans or walnuts, and I'm sure some other stuff that I can't remember at the moment.
(Side note: Some of the best advice that I have ever received came from my cousins husband regarding bananas. He told me, "always banana to mouth, Katie, never mouth to banana." Duly noted.).
And I say that, because the first time that I followed the recipe my cake fell apart, tasted weird, and in all honesty wasn't all that great. The second time that I made it (this past Saturday evening), it was much better. It's traditionally a two-three layer cake.... but I can't accomplish a layered cake to save my life (Duff Goldman, I am not), so I just made a one layer cake, because it's my cake and I could.
In almost all of the "easy cake recipes" that they offer on this, they always say not to get the box cake mix that has pudding in it.... I'm here to tell you that pudding is delicious and it can only help. Pudding haters. The recipe also wasn't very specific on whether or not you make the cake like its box says, or to just go by their recipe.... I followed box directions. Then to it I added, almost a whole jar of chopped maraschino cherries, one can of crushed pineapple, three mashed bananas, one teaspoon of cinnamon, and baked at 350° until the toothpick that I inserted in the center came out clean (around thirty-five to forty minutes.... I think).
And then once it cooled I put cream cheese frosting (that I had mixed chopped walnuts into) on the top of it and it was delicious. It's a really sweet kind of cake, so don't plan on being able to eat a bunch of it at once (if you're a glutton like me), but you should at the very least try it. I shared mine (because I'm just nice like that) and we still have leftovers.... I'm not sad about it.
If not, I'm going to go ahead and tell you that it's a whole lot less disgusting than it sounds (i.e. no hummingbirds were injured in the making of this cake).
I was actually pretty young the first time that I had heard of it (it's a widely popular southern dessert), but hadn't ever had the opportunity to try it (and probably wouldn't have depending on my age, because I would've been under the impression that it was bird cake.... no thanks).
Recently I had stumbled upon it (I don't even remember what I was reading that mentioned it), and once I learned what it actually was, I had to give it a try. Afterall, who doesn't want this kind of snack lying around for a chilly/tv watching treat on a weekend (i.e. it pairs great with alcohol)?
The recipe (I just googled "easy hummingbird cake recipes") calls for: yellow or white boxed cake mix (for us lazy folks that like our shit at least 1/2 made already), bananas, maraschino cherries, crushed pineapple, cinnamon, pecans or walnuts, and I'm sure some other stuff that I can't remember at the moment.
(Side note: Some of the best advice that I have ever received came from my cousins husband regarding bananas. He told me, "always banana to mouth, Katie, never mouth to banana." Duly noted.).
And I say that, because the first time that I followed the recipe my cake fell apart, tasted weird, and in all honesty wasn't all that great. The second time that I made it (this past Saturday evening), it was much better. It's traditionally a two-three layer cake.... but I can't accomplish a layered cake to save my life (Duff Goldman, I am not), so I just made a one layer cake, because it's my cake and I could.
In almost all of the "easy cake recipes" that they offer on this, they always say not to get the box cake mix that has pudding in it.... I'm here to tell you that pudding is delicious and it can only help. Pudding haters. The recipe also wasn't very specific on whether or not you make the cake like its box says, or to just go by their recipe.... I followed box directions. Then to it I added, almost a whole jar of chopped maraschino cherries, one can of crushed pineapple, three mashed bananas, one teaspoon of cinnamon, and baked at 350° until the toothpick that I inserted in the center came out clean (around thirty-five to forty minutes.... I think).
And then once it cooled I put cream cheese frosting (that I had mixed chopped walnuts into) on the top of it and it was delicious. It's a really sweet kind of cake, so don't plan on being able to eat a bunch of it at once (if you're a glutton like me), but you should at the very least try it. I shared mine (because I'm just nice like that) and we still have leftovers.... I'm not sad about it.
Thursday, October 20, 2016
If y'all need me, I'll be hiding in my fort.
To say that the last couple of weeks have been hectic would be a vast understatement.
I've talked a bit here and there on the fact that my job is trying out this new trial thing with me, a "promotion" kind of, to see if we can streamline a few things and make life a bit easier for all involved. It's more work for me, but I like to stay busy and it's a bit more money, so I was completely on board.
Dani decided to start me off slow, working on a couple of projects, nothing too large scale, because there is in fact a learning curve. We all knew this going in and were fine with it. And things went pretty great.... for about three days.
And no, I haven't been fired and we haven't changed our minds about it, kind of the opposite actually.
What happened was three days into trying out this new position/experiment a co-worker of ours got taken to the hospital.... and while I'm not comfortable sharing his health stories (they're not mine to tell), I will just leave it at it's going to be quite some time before he gets to come back, if ever, and we are all hoping/praying for his health to improve. The most important thing is that, while I am kind of "venting" I would like it clearly stated that I am not holding this against him or his health in any way. Getting better is our tip-top hope for him.
With that being said, what was left behind in his unexpected absence was a cluster f*ck to say the least. Each one of our workers has a very specific job, with multiple projects that only they deal with.... so when someone has to take over all of those projects at various stages of bid and completion?
ANARCHY. (And not the Sons of, kind).
All at once we had no clue what was done, what needed done, what was/was not scheduled for work, where anything was, or who needed what for 1/3 of the company. The first day (last Thursday) we worked from 6:00 am (the time I always come to work) non-stop until 4:00 pm, including working through lunch while trying to shove pizza down our throats without choking to death/puking on all of our paperwork.
What's that old saying? "Toss your hair up in a bun, drink some coffee, put on some gangsta rap, and handle it." Thank you, Eminem. That's all I have to say, because nothing gets you to want to "handle shit" quite like Marshall Mathers does.... or is that just for me? Either way, that man and caffeine has been my saving grace for the past week.
There is so much stuff everywhere that our office looks like either a bomb went off, a twister went through, or we've decided to build a fort and wait out winter (something that I will in fact be doing at my own house, not here). There are papers everywhere, samples sprawled throughout, and the faintest scent of disdain in the air. Don't even get me started on the post-its (we have Romy and Michele quotes in abundance) that are stuck to every surface imaginable.
And now, it's still a cluster f*ck (and not depleting whatsoever in its cluster f*ckness), but we already know that and while it's a giant pain in the ass and we don't foresee it getting any better (or peoples moods improving at any point), we're trying.... and I've managed to catch onto quite a lot that we all thought would take weeks-months. Nothing says "take that learning curve" kind of like the only other option being to crash and burn.
And while that is still an option, we're kind of too pissed off to let it happen.
I've talked a bit here and there on the fact that my job is trying out this new trial thing with me, a "promotion" kind of, to see if we can streamline a few things and make life a bit easier for all involved. It's more work for me, but I like to stay busy and it's a bit more money, so I was completely on board.
Dani decided to start me off slow, working on a couple of projects, nothing too large scale, because there is in fact a learning curve. We all knew this going in and were fine with it. And things went pretty great.... for about three days.
And no, I haven't been fired and we haven't changed our minds about it, kind of the opposite actually.
What happened was three days into trying out this new position/experiment a co-worker of ours got taken to the hospital.... and while I'm not comfortable sharing his health stories (they're not mine to tell), I will just leave it at it's going to be quite some time before he gets to come back, if ever, and we are all hoping/praying for his health to improve. The most important thing is that, while I am kind of "venting" I would like it clearly stated that I am not holding this against him or his health in any way. Getting better is our tip-top hope for him.
With that being said, what was left behind in his unexpected absence was a cluster f*ck to say the least. Each one of our workers has a very specific job, with multiple projects that only they deal with.... so when someone has to take over all of those projects at various stages of bid and completion?
ANARCHY. (And not the Sons of, kind).
All at once we had no clue what was done, what needed done, what was/was not scheduled for work, where anything was, or who needed what for 1/3 of the company. The first day (last Thursday) we worked from 6:00 am (the time I always come to work) non-stop until 4:00 pm, including working through lunch while trying to shove pizza down our throats without choking to death/puking on all of our paperwork.
What's that old saying? "Toss your hair up in a bun, drink some coffee, put on some gangsta rap, and handle it." Thank you, Eminem. That's all I have to say, because nothing gets you to want to "handle shit" quite like Marshall Mathers does.... or is that just for me? Either way, that man and caffeine has been my saving grace for the past week.
There is so much stuff everywhere that our office looks like either a bomb went off, a twister went through, or we've decided to build a fort and wait out winter (something that I will in fact be doing at my own house, not here). There are papers everywhere, samples sprawled throughout, and the faintest scent of disdain in the air. Don't even get me started on the post-its (we have Romy and Michele quotes in abundance) that are stuck to every surface imaginable.
And now, it's still a cluster f*ck (and not depleting whatsoever in its cluster f*ckness), but we already know that and while it's a giant pain in the ass and we don't foresee it getting any better (or peoples moods improving at any point), we're trying.... and I've managed to catch onto quite a lot that we all thought would take weeks-months. Nothing says "take that learning curve" kind of like the only other option being to crash and burn.
And while that is still an option, we're kind of too pissed off to let it happen.
Friday, August 5, 2016
It's finally Friday and all I want to do is drink wine and eat chicken and watch tv and sleep.
(I honestly thought about just ignoring my alarm and responsibilities this morning).
Have y'all ever had one of those weeks where no matter what you do there never seems to be enough time to accomplish everything and by the end you're totally exhausted? That's my life at the moment. And it's not even that there are a lot of things going on, but it's just that the work hours have been really long, and all of the other hours seem to disappear without a trace (you know, the ones that let you do things like cook, clean, go to the grocery store, mow your grass, watch your favorite tv shows, and sleep).
After work yesterday Momma and I ran out to get those fans and we just grabbed a bite while we were out, because cooking was not in the cards for either of us. When we got home I assembled the fans (just call me Tim the Toolman Taylor), and then we gave our house the thorough cleaning that it so desperately deserved (dust = death), did laundry and finally got to take a shower and sit down for two minutes. By the time we got all of that done and showers, it was far after eleven.
So, this morning when my alarm went off at 4:45 am (yes, I know I have to get up over asscrack early- trust me, I know) calling me to my adult responsibilities? All I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to say the hell with being an adult (because it's the worst) and I wanted to sleep until almost noon (fat chance, I can never sleep late like that) and then eat and do little to nothing for the rest of the day. But did I do that?
NO. The answer to that is hell no. Why?! Because I have this thing called self preservation and while I'm good with filling my body full of alcohol, candy, and bacon cheeseburgers, I am not good with someone showing up at my house at five in the morning to pounce on me and drag my bitch ass to work against my will (I'm looking at you, Danielle). I figured it would just be easier to drag my own bitch ass to work against my will. Saves everybody gas money that way.
But after 3:30 this afternoon? I'm home free for two days, fourteen hours and thirty minutes. Or, 3750 minutes. You know, to make it sound like it's more time than it actually is. And I'm going to try to milk the weekend goodness for all it's worth. And probably eat a bunch of good food and drink too much (tonight). And try to talk Momma into gas station chicken (yes, I'm one of those weird ass people that loves gas station food) and a ride to DiscReplay (again, tonight- let's see if they have old school Terminator and Outsiders).
It's the little things.
Have y'all ever had one of those weeks where no matter what you do there never seems to be enough time to accomplish everything and by the end you're totally exhausted? That's my life at the moment. And it's not even that there are a lot of things going on, but it's just that the work hours have been really long, and all of the other hours seem to disappear without a trace (you know, the ones that let you do things like cook, clean, go to the grocery store, mow your grass, watch your favorite tv shows, and sleep).
After work yesterday Momma and I ran out to get those fans and we just grabbed a bite while we were out, because cooking was not in the cards for either of us. When we got home I assembled the fans (just call me Tim the Toolman Taylor), and then we gave our house the thorough cleaning that it so desperately deserved (dust = death), did laundry and finally got to take a shower and sit down for two minutes. By the time we got all of that done and showers, it was far after eleven.
So, this morning when my alarm went off at 4:45 am (yes, I know I have to get up over asscrack early- trust me, I know) calling me to my adult responsibilities? All I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to say the hell with being an adult (because it's the worst) and I wanted to sleep until almost noon (fat chance, I can never sleep late like that) and then eat and do little to nothing for the rest of the day. But did I do that?
NO. The answer to that is hell no. Why?! Because I have this thing called self preservation and while I'm good with filling my body full of alcohol, candy, and bacon cheeseburgers, I am not good with someone showing up at my house at five in the morning to pounce on me and drag my bitch ass to work against my will (I'm looking at you, Danielle). I figured it would just be easier to drag my own bitch ass to work against my will. Saves everybody gas money that way.
But after 3:30 this afternoon? I'm home free for two days, fourteen hours and thirty minutes. Or, 3750 minutes. You know, to make it sound like it's more time than it actually is. And I'm going to try to milk the weekend goodness for all it's worth. And probably eat a bunch of good food and drink too much (tonight). And try to talk Momma into gas station chicken (yes, I'm one of those weird ass people that loves gas station food) and a ride to DiscReplay (again, tonight- let's see if they have old school Terminator and Outsiders).
It's the little things.
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Every time I'm in air conditioning, I get ridiculously hungry.
(It's weird as hell).
I know why I'm getting hungry on a whole new level, but it doesn't mean that I feel like it's normal. You see, as of this moment we don't have any air conditioning in our house (don't worry, we're going to get some fans today so it will be livable- it's been anywhere from 87° to 93° in our house for days), therefore eating isn't high on the priority list. I don't know about you, but when I'm hot my appetite is a no show. And that's not a good thing for me, because my eating habits are strange enough without another factor butting in.
So, because I'm not really eating at home (me, Momma, nor Tayder are), whenever one of us gets cooled down (i.e. work or the grocery store) we become so hungry that it begins to be a serious problem. In the words of Boyd Crowder "I'm so hungry right now, I could eat the ass out of a low flying duck." (The man is just classy and knows what's up).
And sleeping? Forget about it. I think I passed out for about an hour yesterday afternoon and that is the most consistent sleep that has happened all week. I worry about Momma and Tayder to the point of that's why we're getting air and/or more fans tomorrow. I don't want either of them getting so hot that they get sick. That's just not good on any level. So, hopefully this day/ evening won't be too awfully horrible and by tomorrow we can get it taken care of (wish us luck). And then we can all relax.
And eat chicken. Because, you know, HUNGER.
I know why I'm getting hungry on a whole new level, but it doesn't mean that I feel like it's normal. You see, as of this moment we don't have any air conditioning in our house (don't worry, we're going to get some fans today so it will be livable- it's been anywhere from 87° to 93° in our house for days), therefore eating isn't high on the priority list. I don't know about you, but when I'm hot my appetite is a no show. And that's not a good thing for me, because my eating habits are strange enough without another factor butting in.
So, because I'm not really eating at home (me, Momma, nor Tayder are), whenever one of us gets cooled down (i.e. work or the grocery store) we become so hungry that it begins to be a serious problem. In the words of Boyd Crowder "I'm so hungry right now, I could eat the ass out of a low flying duck." (The man is just classy and knows what's up).
And sleeping? Forget about it. I think I passed out for about an hour yesterday afternoon and that is the most consistent sleep that has happened all week. I worry about Momma and Tayder to the point of that's why we're getting air and/or more fans tomorrow. I don't want either of them getting so hot that they get sick. That's just not good on any level. So, hopefully this day/ evening won't be too awfully horrible and by tomorrow we can get it taken care of (wish us luck). And then we can all relax.
And eat chicken. Because, you know, HUNGER.
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Is it Monday or Tuesday?!
(I'm highly confused by life right now).
By the way, I know that it's Tuesday, but let's be honest here- IT FEELS LIKE A MONDAY. Amirite? I am. It hasn't been a bad day or anything like that, I'm just a bit thrown off with having the last three and a half days off (Dani and I..... and Tony..... got off at eleven on Friday). You know, because our company is closed on all government holidays (Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc).
And this isn't even a Mmmmooonnnnnddddaaaayyyyyyyy........... type of day, it just doesn't feel like it's Tuesday. Or something like that. Mostly, it's just confusing, because you have to remember to do all of your Tuesday stuff today. And now, I have to quit talking about how weird today feels, because I'm just confusing myself more and more.
I have to mow grass when I get home from work today. I mowed it on Friday and while it would probably be good for another day or two, we have severe thunderstorm warnings out for tonight and all day tomorrow. Which means that by the time the grass dried out enough to cut, it would be like I was playing a game of Jumanji. And while I love Robin Williams (and that movie), I don't feel like I would be real good at that. So, I better not push it.
Can I day drink today? Yes? No? Get back to me on that.
By the way, I know that it's Tuesday, but let's be honest here- IT FEELS LIKE A MONDAY. Amirite? I am. It hasn't been a bad day or anything like that, I'm just a bit thrown off with having the last three and a half days off (Dani and I..... and Tony..... got off at eleven on Friday). You know, because our company is closed on all government holidays (Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc).
And this isn't even a Mmmmooonnnnnddddaaaayyyyyyyy........... type of day, it just doesn't feel like it's Tuesday. Or something like that. Mostly, it's just confusing, because you have to remember to do all of your Tuesday stuff today. And now, I have to quit talking about how weird today feels, because I'm just confusing myself more and more.
I have to mow grass when I get home from work today. I mowed it on Friday and while it would probably be good for another day or two, we have severe thunderstorm warnings out for tonight and all day tomorrow. Which means that by the time the grass dried out enough to cut, it would be like I was playing a game of Jumanji. And while I love Robin Williams (and that movie), I don't feel like I would be real good at that. So, I better not push it.
Can I day drink today? Yes? No? Get back to me on that.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
How is it only Thursday?!
(This week has been ridiculously long).
It's been one of those weeks that seems to go on for days upon days and every morning when my alarm has gone off, I haven't wanted to get up and get going. This morning, I actually tried to hide underneath the covers and will the time and alarm away. Unfortunately it didn't work and I had to get up, but you'll be happy to know that Tayder felt well enough to stay under the blanket and snooze while I got everything ready.
I don't know what it is, really. It probably has something to do with the fact that it has been perfect sleeping weather for the past two weeks. Everyday it has either rained, or has been that real cool kind of day that you just want to open the windows and curl up with your pup, watch a little tv, and take a snooze or two. Or, maybe that's just me. Either way, do you think anyone would notice if I hid in the bathroom at work and took a nap? Yes? No? Get back to me on that.
I've been so off here lately that I've owned the movie- The Revenant- for like three weeks and have yet to watch it. I know, I know, you're very worried right about now. Just so you know, I am to. (It finally won Leo his Oscar!!). It's just unnatural for me to be around a Leonardo DiCaprio movie and not watch it. If it was Johnny Depp, I would be twice as worried.
I've even tried to eat my way through this. I informed a guy at work the other day that I wanted to eat an entire bag of Snickers bars and when he asked me why I would want to do that, I had no choice but to reply- "Because I'm just not me when I'm hungry?!" Shit is getting real. All I want to do is put on some comfy clothes, eat a bunch of junk food, cuddle with my puppy dog, watch crap tv (or you know- The Revenant), and drink wine and NyQuil, and take my allergy meds like they're never going to make it again. (Don't worry, only the NyQuil so I can sleep).
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go nap. And by nap, I mean never get to effing sleep ever again. Good thing I wouldn't get all dramatic about it or anything. WHERE IN THE HELL IS FRIDAY WHEN I NEED IT?!!
It's been one of those weeks that seems to go on for days upon days and every morning when my alarm has gone off, I haven't wanted to get up and get going. This morning, I actually tried to hide underneath the covers and will the time and alarm away. Unfortunately it didn't work and I had to get up, but you'll be happy to know that Tayder felt well enough to stay under the blanket and snooze while I got everything ready.
I don't know what it is, really. It probably has something to do with the fact that it has been perfect sleeping weather for the past two weeks. Everyday it has either rained, or has been that real cool kind of day that you just want to open the windows and curl up with your pup, watch a little tv, and take a snooze or two. Or, maybe that's just me. Either way, do you think anyone would notice if I hid in the bathroom at work and took a nap? Yes? No? Get back to me on that.
I've been so off here lately that I've owned the movie- The Revenant- for like three weeks and have yet to watch it. I know, I know, you're very worried right about now. Just so you know, I am to. (It finally won Leo his Oscar!!). It's just unnatural for me to be around a Leonardo DiCaprio movie and not watch it. If it was Johnny Depp, I would be twice as worried.
I've even tried to eat my way through this. I informed a guy at work the other day that I wanted to eat an entire bag of Snickers bars and when he asked me why I would want to do that, I had no choice but to reply- "Because I'm just not me when I'm hungry?!" Shit is getting real. All I want to do is put on some comfy clothes, eat a bunch of junk food, cuddle with my puppy dog, watch crap tv (or you know- The Revenant), and drink wine and NyQuil, and take my allergy meds like they're never going to make it again. (Don't worry, only the NyQuil so I can sleep).
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go nap. And by nap, I mean never get to effing sleep ever again. Good thing I wouldn't get all dramatic about it or anything. WHERE IN THE HELL IS FRIDAY WHEN I NEED IT?!!
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
I just do not care for this.
(I'm having flashbacks of the chicken pox).
I currently have poison ivy. And sumac. And I am not at all happy about this little incident. Call it dramatic if you want to, but I'm pretty sure that this is ruining my entire life. I can only wear certain things to work to help it "breathe" because apparently air is what helps it heal and leave and heat is what makes it multiply. And when I'm home, I'm pretty much just in a really baggy tshirt and pair of boxers, because I'm covered in goopy medicine that I'm pretty sure was created in the 1600s. Also, I have to sit/lay on a light sheet, because said medicine gets on everything.
It itches and constricts and I am just not a fan. I've never been allergic to poison ivy/oak/sumac when I was growing up, but Greg (my brother) was highly allergic and used to catch it all of the time. It was so bad at times that he had to go to the hospital and miss a lot of school. I always felt really bad for him, because he always just looked so miserable. I even used to clean/clear out anything on our land that had poison ivy/oak/sumac on, in, or around it, just so he had a better chance of not catching it. Funny thing?
He's no longer allergic. But I am.
And guess what he isn't doing? He's not being all nice and sympathetic to me and cleaning/clearing out things so that I have a better chance. Nope. Not him. He is however staring at me while shaking his head and telling me not to leak pus everywhere. So, you know, that's helpful.
Poison ivy/oak/sumac was always the one "childhood illness" that I never got. And I know that adults get it, but I had chicken pox, the measles, allergies, asthma, and a bunch of other shit happening. I thought that poison ivy/oak/sumac was where the line had been drawn and I was perfectly good with that. But NOOOO. It had to wait until I was twenty- six years old to develop an allergy. I just don't think that's very fair and I call party foul.
All I know is I've had to be covered in goop, be deprived of sleep (holy hell- the itching!!), and take at least four showers (don't worry- cold showers) a day for the last three days. I have a couple of kinds of medicine that my aunt (Mary) brought up to me yesterday and I have one more left to try. It's some kind of 24 hour medicine, but if it's not getting better by tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to the doctor on Friday. Because damn Gina, this shit is for the birds.
Wish me luck. When I had chicken pox and wasn't allowed to scratch, Momma had to duct tape oven mittens on my hands. And she's already threatened to do it again. Once again- party foul.
I currently have poison ivy. And sumac. And I am not at all happy about this little incident. Call it dramatic if you want to, but I'm pretty sure that this is ruining my entire life. I can only wear certain things to work to help it "breathe" because apparently air is what helps it heal and leave and heat is what makes it multiply. And when I'm home, I'm pretty much just in a really baggy tshirt and pair of boxers, because I'm covered in goopy medicine that I'm pretty sure was created in the 1600s. Also, I have to sit/lay on a light sheet, because said medicine gets on everything.
It itches and constricts and I am just not a fan. I've never been allergic to poison ivy/oak/sumac when I was growing up, but Greg (my brother) was highly allergic and used to catch it all of the time. It was so bad at times that he had to go to the hospital and miss a lot of school. I always felt really bad for him, because he always just looked so miserable. I even used to clean/clear out anything on our land that had poison ivy/oak/sumac on, in, or around it, just so he had a better chance of not catching it. Funny thing?
He's no longer allergic. But I am.
And guess what he isn't doing? He's not being all nice and sympathetic to me and cleaning/clearing out things so that I have a better chance. Nope. Not him. He is however staring at me while shaking his head and telling me not to leak pus everywhere. So, you know, that's helpful.
Poison ivy/oak/sumac was always the one "childhood illness" that I never got. And I know that adults get it, but I had chicken pox, the measles, allergies, asthma, and a bunch of other shit happening. I thought that poison ivy/oak/sumac was where the line had been drawn and I was perfectly good with that. But NOOOO. It had to wait until I was twenty- six years old to develop an allergy. I just don't think that's very fair and I call party foul.
All I know is I've had to be covered in goop, be deprived of sleep (holy hell- the itching!!), and take at least four showers (don't worry- cold showers) a day for the last three days. I have a couple of kinds of medicine that my aunt (Mary) brought up to me yesterday and I have one more left to try. It's some kind of 24 hour medicine, but if it's not getting better by tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to the doctor on Friday. Because damn Gina, this shit is for the birds.
Wish me luck. When I had chicken pox and wasn't allowed to scratch, Momma had to duct tape oven mittens on my hands. And she's already threatened to do it again. Once again- party foul.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Because we were in cahoots.
(This happened the day before New Years Eve and I'm just now getting around to tell you about it..... Oops?!).
Remember when I told you that my cousin Ashley wanted to set me up on a date with a guy that she worked with? And my reaction was all- "hell no, you're smoking crack rock and there's nothing that you can say or do to make me change my mind." Yeah well, cut to a week later with round the clock incessant bothering and I finally caved and was like- "I'll go if you agree to never talk to me again."
We decided that it would be a double date since neither of us had ever met each other (and I'm convinced that everybody is a secret serial killer). The good news is me and dude liked each other enough to be friendly, but not enough to actually date. Plus, I got pizza, onion rings and beer, so all is fair in love and war..... Right?!
His opinion on me: "She's cute and very sweet..... And also, VERY opinionated." Why yes dude, I am very opinionated. Thank you so much for noticing. It just comes naturally to me.
My opinion on him: "He's nice and has pretty teeth..... And also, I think he would rather have a boyfriend." Which is completely and 100% fine, I just think it's sad that there are still so many people that are hateful out there that people feel like they have to hide their true selves.
Now I know that I hate dating for a fact (I was pretty sure that I did, but needed to confirm it) and Ashley leaves us both alone. All in all, I think dude and I totally win. Here's looking at you, kid.
Remember when I told you that my cousin Ashley wanted to set me up on a date with a guy that she worked with? And my reaction was all- "hell no, you're smoking crack rock and there's nothing that you can say or do to make me change my mind." Yeah well, cut to a week later with round the clock incessant bothering and I finally caved and was like- "I'll go if you agree to never talk to me again."
We decided that it would be a double date since neither of us had ever met each other (and I'm convinced that everybody is a secret serial killer). The good news is me and dude liked each other enough to be friendly, but not enough to actually date. Plus, I got pizza, onion rings and beer, so all is fair in love and war..... Right?!
His opinion on me: "She's cute and very sweet..... And also, VERY opinionated." Why yes dude, I am very opinionated. Thank you so much for noticing. It just comes naturally to me.
My opinion on him: "He's nice and has pretty teeth..... And also, I think he would rather have a boyfriend." Which is completely and 100% fine, I just think it's sad that there are still so many people that are hateful out there that people feel like they have to hide their true selves.
Now I know that I hate dating for a fact (I was pretty sure that I did, but needed to confirm it) and Ashley leaves us both alone. All in all, I think dude and I totally win. Here's looking at you, kid.
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.
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.
Friday, July 31, 2015
I wanted to put my face in my hands and just shake my head.
(Sometimes people are so dumb it makes my brain hurt).
Momma and I dropped Greg off at work on Wednesday and wanted to swing by to get us a fountain drink and look at a couple houses. We turned on a side road to cut through to the gas station instead of going down to the stoplight and passed a truck broke down on the side of the road. There was a girl in it, probably around my age, so we stopped and asked her if she needed some help.
She informed us that her grandpa was on his way to tow her truck and that she was just trying to push it into the parking lot up the ways a little so it wouldn't be on the side of the road. She asked if I would help and I said sure. I got out of our car to go to the back of her truck and push it and she fell out of her truck.
And I don't mean she went to step out and lost her footing. I mean she legit- FELL.
I went around the truck to make sure she was ok and that's when I realized that this girl was messed up. And not your "I'm just having a really bad day" kind of messed up, but the "I've consumed too much alcohol and whatever drugs that I'm taking" kind of messed up. And the only thing that kept repeating in my head was when Dyer used to repeat that saying- "She's tore up from the floor up". And I always thought that it was a dumb saying, but now I understand it. It was made for this girl that I was looking at.
I decided to still help her push her truck just a bit and next thing I know, she put that shit in neutral and was standing behind it with me. I asked her- "Who in the hell is steering?" And she answered with something along the lines of- "Bushkujhduqahjbhcebhkwbdujknsj -insert pause- jkhagbdloqjnfjkmfp". So, I asked her when her grandpa was going to be there to get her and the truck and she informed me that she hadn't really called him yet. I asked how he was supposed to know that he was coming to get her then and she didn't have an answer, she just paused for a really long time.
Then two cop cars pulled up behind us. Now, I'm perfectly fine with police officers, I think that there are a few assholes out there (like with all other things in life), but for the most part, I think that they're good people that get the rough end of the stick.
This girl did not share my sentiment.
She turned around and marched to the front of the truck and sat down in it. Which was fairly hilarious considering the fact that she had to hold onto the steering wheel and seat to stay upright. The female officer passed me and went to her and the male officer (who was a massive guy) asked me what was going on. I told him that Momma and I had seen her broke down and stopped to try and help her. He asked- "So, you're not together?" And I said no and he was like- "Got you".
During this the other officer had started asking this girl questions and the first thing out of her mouth was- "I just got out of rehab. I haven't relapsed".
Oh, honey.
She was so dumb at that moment that I actually wanted to take pity on her. I wanted to take her aside and tell her- "Honey, don't you know when you're clearly inebriated on God knows what, you don't say the words rehab or relapse to a police officer? Unless they ask it and your denying, those words should never come up". And I wanted to buy her a cup of coffee. I wanted to do none of this as much as I wanted to smack my forehead and shake my head at her though.
The officer that I had been talking to then looked at me and said- "You can go, thank you for trying to help her, but we've got it from here". I feel like that was code for: "This bitch is going to jail". Which is probably true considering the fact that when we drove back by on our way home, nothing was there. No cops, no cars, no truck and definitely no girl. All Momma and I could do was look at each other and shake our heads.
Bless her heart.
Momma and I dropped Greg off at work on Wednesday and wanted to swing by to get us a fountain drink and look at a couple houses. We turned on a side road to cut through to the gas station instead of going down to the stoplight and passed a truck broke down on the side of the road. There was a girl in it, probably around my age, so we stopped and asked her if she needed some help.
She informed us that her grandpa was on his way to tow her truck and that she was just trying to push it into the parking lot up the ways a little so it wouldn't be on the side of the road. She asked if I would help and I said sure. I got out of our car to go to the back of her truck and push it and she fell out of her truck.
And I don't mean she went to step out and lost her footing. I mean she legit- FELL.
I went around the truck to make sure she was ok and that's when I realized that this girl was messed up. And not your "I'm just having a really bad day" kind of messed up, but the "I've consumed too much alcohol and whatever drugs that I'm taking" kind of messed up. And the only thing that kept repeating in my head was when Dyer used to repeat that saying- "She's tore up from the floor up". And I always thought that it was a dumb saying, but now I understand it. It was made for this girl that I was looking at.
I decided to still help her push her truck just a bit and next thing I know, she put that shit in neutral and was standing behind it with me. I asked her- "Who in the hell is steering?" And she answered with something along the lines of- "Bushkujhduqahjbhcebhkwbdujknsj -insert pause- jkhagbdloqjnfjkmfp". So, I asked her when her grandpa was going to be there to get her and the truck and she informed me that she hadn't really called him yet. I asked how he was supposed to know that he was coming to get her then and she didn't have an answer, she just paused for a really long time.
Then two cop cars pulled up behind us. Now, I'm perfectly fine with police officers, I think that there are a few assholes out there (like with all other things in life), but for the most part, I think that they're good people that get the rough end of the stick.
This girl did not share my sentiment.
She turned around and marched to the front of the truck and sat down in it. Which was fairly hilarious considering the fact that she had to hold onto the steering wheel and seat to stay upright. The female officer passed me and went to her and the male officer (who was a massive guy) asked me what was going on. I told him that Momma and I had seen her broke down and stopped to try and help her. He asked- "So, you're not together?" And I said no and he was like- "Got you".
During this the other officer had started asking this girl questions and the first thing out of her mouth was- "I just got out of rehab. I haven't relapsed".
Oh, honey.
She was so dumb at that moment that I actually wanted to take pity on her. I wanted to take her aside and tell her- "Honey, don't you know when you're clearly inebriated on God knows what, you don't say the words rehab or relapse to a police officer? Unless they ask it and your denying, those words should never come up". And I wanted to buy her a cup of coffee. I wanted to do none of this as much as I wanted to smack my forehead and shake my head at her though.
The officer that I had been talking to then looked at me and said- "You can go, thank you for trying to help her, but we've got it from here". I feel like that was code for: "This bitch is going to jail". Which is probably true considering the fact that when we drove back by on our way home, nothing was there. No cops, no cars, no truck and definitely no girl. All Momma and I could do was look at each other and shake our heads.
Bless her heart.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
I have many things to be thankful for {A sappy (early) Thanksgiving post}.
Two year old me would like to wish you happy holidays!! Clearly, we know who the cute one was. My brother and cousins claim they were, but I mean, come on. Look at little ole me.
Things could be better I suppose. I reckon they always could. People always seem to talk about the things that could be better. However, I'm a drink the glass that way you don't have to decide if it's a glass half empty/half full kind of gal. I try to always find the silver lining and be optimistic. Noodle likes to tell me that I'm the ultimate eternal optimistic/hopeless romantic. I'm not really sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but we got that kind of love. I'll take it.
I have so much to be thankful for. So much. I'm in fairly decent health. It teeter totters back and forth between things sometimes, but for the most part things tend to go good. At least it's nothing I can't deal with as far as now. My Momma. The fact is that she's in poor health, but you know what? She's getting help for it. And it's getting better by the day. She will never be healed, however I'm hopeful that with time we can get her to that level. You know what 'that' level is. Tayder is still kicking and lugging around. Poor guy is grumpy, but he's the Walter Matthaeu of dogs, so I'm ok with it.
I like that he's still here to give me cuddles and kisses when I need them. I spend time with a few of my favorite people in the world- i.e. Momma, Aunt Susi, Uncle Roger, Aunt Poot, Uncle Darrell, Aunt Mary, Dani, Solae, Greg when he doesn't have a giant stick up his butt. And so on and so forth. I love spending so much time with Momma. And I love spending time with those I am close to. Work is good. Our apartment is good. Family is good,
I could complain. I really could. But why? So much has happened. There was so much bad in me that I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to turn. I got to the point that I didn't want to do my favorite things. I didn't want to talk to my friends. Anybody really. I didn't want to read or watch tv. I didn't want to leave the house. I didn't even want to get out of bed or get dressed. I didn't really want anything. I went through the motions and that was it. I didn't know what else to do. I just laid there and stared at the walls. I cried without knowing why. I sat there without paying attention to the things around me. My life was going without me really in it. It's been like this for years. Since I was around fifteen, I guess. And then I started making changes. Big changes. And it helped. Don't get me wrong, there are days that I still have these feelings. Everyday I have at least a few of these feelings and don't really understand why. I've never known why. But you know what? Here it is. And here I am. I'm surrounded by people that love me, and even though I don't want to burden them with my problems, I know that if I needed them they are there. And that's nice. And for that my friends, I am thankful.
Happy (early) Thanksgiving.
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