Hey!
Did you know I’m going to Vegas? Because, I’m going to Vegas!
I’m waiting for Joelle and Mikey to pick me up (which, is funny, because they were supposed to have picked me up at 7 this morning, so I got up all early and stuff and panicked because there was no way I’d be ready in time, but guess what? They’re not coming til 12 now! Awesome!) and as soon as they get here, off to Vegas we go!
Buffets! And slot machines! And um, “drinks”! And, maybe, just maybe, DANCING!
But? No Andrew. Or Ethan. Or Gabby.
Oh my God! I do not know if I can do this! I’ve not been away from Gabby before! I’m crying now! (ok, I’m crying again) She needs me! She needs My BOBS! She will scream and cry for me (ok, for My BOBS!) and I will not be here and she will not understand!
This hurts, man. It hurts a lot.
Everyone tells me it will be “good for me” that I need a night away, that Gabby needs to not be “so dependent” on me and that a night away from me will not kill her.
Ok. Fine. But it’s killing me right now, just thinking about it makes the tears fall from my eyes. I’ve been away from the boys before and they’re pretty much like “have fun, whatever!” about it. (Except for Ethan, he gets PISSED if I go anywhere without him, but this morning, he kissed me and said “I’ll see you tomorrow, have fun” and that made me feel good.) But my girl, my sweet girl, what is she going to do without me?
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITHOUT HER?
Oh Lord, I’m crying again.
But I will be strong! And I will go and have fun! Because… VEGAS! How can I not have fun in Vegas?
Right?
RIGHT?
Category Archives: This Thing Called Life
Feel free to tell me that this “anniversary edition” post sucks the really Big One, because I didn’t put any thought or time into it, other than to use the words “really big” a lot, because THIS IS A REALLY BIG DAY OF SUCK
I had planned on writing a Cheese Filled post about what today means to me, but today has been THE WORST MORNING OF MY ENTIRE LIFE. And when I say “worst” you have to trust me. It involves people falling out of bed and scratching chunks out of their back, PUKE, sleeping in late, dropping the bottle of pedialyte and busting it open, having to tell my dad, who was calling FROM AFRICA, “sorry we can not talk to you because we are running late and if Andrew gets one more referrel he will be on the ineligiblity list and PLEASE DON’T CRY DAD” and so on and so forth.
AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!@1!!
What a day, man. And today is a special day, a very special day because F-I-F-T-E-E-N Y-E-A-R-S ago, on this very day, I wore a really big veil on top of my really big bangs and said “I do” to a man with really BIG glasses and when my dad said “you may kiss the bride” and we leaned in for that kiss, my really big veil got tangled up in his really big glasses (HA!HA!HA!)and all the guests laughed a really big laugh and then we got in a really big limo and proceeded to a really big gym where would eat a piece of our really big cake and then go home to our apartment and have really big sex.
And, fifteen years later, we’ve become two REALLY BIG DORKS
Who rip really big farts in front of each other
And give each other really big kisses whilst laughing about the really big farts we blew
Because, again? Dorks.
Dorks who still love to boink, and that’s all that matters.
RESPECT…. The Wave
Our 15th wedding anniversary is just around the corner. I want to put a little scrapbook together with pictures of “just the two of us”. Unfortunetely, we haven’t taken many pictures together over the past 15 years. It makes me a little sad, but, there’s nothing I can do about it, other than make the best out of what I’ve got.
In my quest for pictures, I came across quite a few gems. And by “gems” I mean “hilarious pictures to mock on the internet.”
I wish I had time to post them all, because, HAAAAAAHA I was a dork. (I said “was.” haaa.) Lucky for me, Tony had moments of Dork too. And even luckier for me? He once sported a perm.
The good ol “Man” perm. The mom given permanent wave.
I have to admit, I find it somewhat sexy in that “Man, I want to have Perm sex because Curls are HOT.” kinda way, but, I find it mostly TOTALLY HILARIOUS because MY HUSBAND HAD A PERM.
And? He wore that perm to the prom and he accented that perm WITH PINK HIGHTOPS, but, lucky for him, I ripped that picture up in a fit of jealous rage, because his ex was kind of trying to ruin our lives at the time.
God. I love that man. Whether he’s sporting a perm, or, his current “Do” (which, I like to call the “dr.phil lite” because, it’s not THAT bad…YET, but, it’s totally “little in the middle but he got much back, and sides”)
(And, in all fairness, if he could respond, he’d probably say something like “God. I love that women, whether she’s a size 5 like she was when I first met her, or whether she’s sportin’ her current size 16 ass and saggy boobs!)
Crispy Fish and adult conversation…. Just what my dreams are made of
Yesterday, I met Amy and her baby girl, Vivian , for lunch.
Man, was it great to get out of the house and have some adult conversation.
And some fish tacos.
One would think I’d have behaved and “acted” like a member of Weight Watchers, but, I lose all control with the fish tacos. (HA! HA! HAA!) Creamy white sauce and crispy fish, a greater combination does not exist. So, I had THREE. That’s right. I ate up all of my points for the day right there in front of a blogger who could have totally wrote bad things about what a pig I am on the internet. And if it wasn’t bad enough that I ate THREE fish tacos, I also tried to get Gabby to do her “fart on command” trick at the table while eating those three fish tacos AND I totally picked up my straw from the ground and used it because I’M GROWN I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.
It seriously blows my mind that people aren’t lined up to hang out with me.
You notice how I started out talking about meeting Amy for lunch, but then I end up talking about MYSELF for the next 20 minutes? That’s pretty much what I did the entire lunch. Talked and talked and talked about myself and my kids. That’s a really bad habit that I have that I SWEAR TO GOD I’m not going to do everytime I meet someone new, but, once I get around another adult, I’m overcome with excitement and I’m like “blahblahblahMEblahGabbyBLAHFARTGABBY!blahblahblah) I was SO mad at myself the entire way home. Why can’t I shutup for five seconds and let the other person talk?
I blame Bush.
I discovered something very profound about my daughter while watching her with Vivian. She acts JUST LIKE ME. She, like myself, has this obsessive need to hug and touch people.
Proof:
She’s all “awwww, look, a baby! I must pet the baby. I must let the baby know I love her and how pretty she is. Pretty baby.”
“Why is the pretty baby not letting me pet her? Why is she walking away? Does she not know that I am the center of the universe and that I am the Princess of Everything and I want to pet her and hug her?”
“I want to hug the baby. I WILL hug the baby.”
Mission accomplished.
It’s kind of scary how similar we are, scary but yet, in those photos? So very cute. Poor Vivian. She’s such a gentle, sweet little girl, and seemed completely overwhelmed by my little ham, but that didn’t stop my daughter from gettin’ all up in her PREFACE. (inside joke that isn’t really funny to anyone but me and Joelle, so, I really should stop saying it here, but I can’t because it is hilarious to me)
Meeting Amy reminded me of why I love “blogging”. I love the connection I make with people whom I never would have met were it not for The Internet. Incredible, kind, passionate, beautiful women. I know people who don’t blog do not understand it, and that’s fine, I can accept that not everyone will ‘get it’. As I drove away from our lunch, I felt so lucky to have this outlet in which I can express myself and, in the process, meet the most amazing, beautiful people.
Can not think of a title because AAAAAHHHHHH.
If my neighbors read this blog, then they are about to find out that I AM CALLING THE HEALTH DEPARTMENT ON THEM AS SOON AS THEY OPEN TODAY.
I don’t care if they know I’m the one that called. I’ll wear I shirt that says “I called the health department on my neighbors.” for the rest of the week.
I’ll shout it from my rooftop.
“I called the health department on your dirty asses!”
Just so we’re clear, I’m not calling on the one’s who Slice each other. I’m calling on the ones who are sick, disgusting, filthy, nasty PIGS. The one’s who let a man live in their RV for over a year and TAKE SHITS IN A TOILET THAT CAN’T FLUSH FOR THAT ENTIRE YEAR. The ones who collect junk and have junk, trash and more junk in every room of their house, piled so high and so wide that you literally can’t find a place to sit. Because they enjoy DIGGING THROUGH TRASH CANS TO FIND “TREASURES”
Those neighbors.
So, why am I FINALLY calling the health department on them? Because, yesterday, their son tells us that they’re going to sell their house and buy property up in the desert (which, I’ll believe it when I see it. They’ve been saying they’re going to put a new roof on for the past 8 years. ) Anyway, as he’s talking to us, he’s telling us how disgusting their house is, how it’s full of junk and casually he mentions that it’s so bad, “they have mice in the house.” He then says “My dad will set a trap, and he’ll catch 5 or 6 mice IN A NIGHT.”
Did ya get that, people? Half a dozen in one night.
If you understand how much I hate all things bug and rodent related, you’d understand the sickness I felt in my stomach at that moment.
And, you’d understand the pure terror, disgust, fear and OH MY GOD I HAVE TO MOVE THIS VERY MINUTE right this minute after hearing my husband say “Honey, we need to buy a mouse trap… I just saw a MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN.”
I immediately began to cry and panic.
“You’re joking right? PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING BECAUSE I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO LEAVE THIS ROOM IF THERE IS A MOUSE IN THIS HOUSE.”
He got all pissed at me, like “get a grip, woman.”
But he was more pissed at our FUCKING NEIGHBORS because this is all their fault. They have infested the ‘hood with mice. And now there is a mouse in my house and I seriously do not know how I am going to get the courage to get out of my bed and walk around this house, not knowing when a mouse may run across the floor.
We’ve never had a mouse in this house. We’ve had ants (because this neighborhood is built on a freaking ant hill),we’ve had potato bugs.) But mice? NEVER. (Ok, we HAVE had a rat in the garage, but that’s different. THAT’S OUTSIDE, NO WHERE NEAR MY FEET OR MY CHILDREN.
I’m freaking out so hard about this, that Tony asked if he needed to stay home. Inside, I was like “yes, you do, you need to stay home and hold me.” but I know he has to work so we can pay the bills (and now, THE EXTERMINATOR) so I sucked it up and told him he could go to work, that I would be ok, but that I could only hope the mouse didn’t attack our daughter whilst she casually strolls through her home that SHOULD BE FREE OF MICE.
I feel sweaty and my heart is racing because it is time for me to get off of this chair and wake up the kids. If I see the mouse, I will scream and I will cry. Is this normal? To be so upset and freaked out by a mouse? A MOUSE THAT IS WONDERING AROUND MY HOUSE?
How will I function today? I am literally paralyzed with fear right now. I should have already had the boys up, but here I sit, unable to move for fear of seeing The Mouse.
Thank God she’s a FIERCE BEYOTCH.
Last night I chatted a little bit with The Debster.
I’ve been crying ever since.
She just found out she has Leukemia. LEUKEMIA.
I can’t even imagine being hit with that kind of news of out NOWHERE. Me, being the psychotic wimp that I am, would not be rational or calm. Deb is SO NOT LIKE ME. She sounded strong and positive. She was in full on “I’m going to fight and WIN this battle” mode and I have no doubts she’ll do just that. But the thing that is killing me inside is that she can’t be with her daughter.
I think about it and I cry so hard for her. Again, I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like for her right now. Getting hit with such drastic news and being seperated from her daughter all at once. My God.
I promised her I’d try to make her laugh as often as possible, that I’d keep in constant touch with her and that I’ll help her in any way I can. She’s going to need support, emotional and financial and I have no doubts The Internet will come through for her. (The Internet ALWAYS comes through for it’s peoples.) I also told her that I will chop all of my hair off and have a wig made out of it so that she can wear my hair! Which, um, is probably kind of creepy and is the reason she just laughed and didn’t say things like “I would LOVE to wear your hair!”
Please, keep her in your thoughts and in your prayers. Also? Please, GO, try to make the woman laugh. Shower her with love and well wishes. She needs all the love, support and Funny she can get to help her beat some Cancer Ass.
And when she mentioned “no eating after midnight” a died a little inside.
Ultrasound. Today. 10:40.
Finally, I found a doctor (oh! wait! it wasn’t a doctor, it was a nurse practioner!) who actually listened to what I had to say rather than instantly declare “You have anxiety! Here! Take a pill and shutup!”.
Also? Blood work to check my liver function. Did you hear that? BLOOD TESTS! Ladies and gentlemen, we have TWO medical tests! Can I get “GLORY!?”
I’m nervous because a) I have to leave Gabby with my mom and I never really leave Gabby with anyone because she’s my angel and I love her and don’t want anything bad to happen to her and? I love her company, because she makes me laugh very hard because she is HILARIOUS with her big old front teeth and HUGE gap between those teeth and her ATTITUDE PROBLEM which, I’m sure I won’t find funny when she’s 5, but for now? LOVE it. b) What if they find something really bad? I don’t think I’m prepared for bad news. I’m prepared for them to say “everything’s fine! You’re just crazy and making it all up in your head, now HERE, take this damn pill already and SHUTUP.”
Now, I can only hope that the ultrasound screen is completely out of my view because if I can see it? I will surely see something that will make me panic and think things like “OH MY GOD THAT LOOKS LIKE A TUMOR. I’M DOING TO DIE!”
(Note: I tend to get dramatic and irrational about these things.)
I truly am thankful that someone finally listened to me and is taking this seriously.
A very late BECAUSE I’VE BEEN SO WRAPPED UP IN SELF LATELY update
Because I’ve been so wrapped up in my own, um, numbness? I completely forgot to post an email I recieved from a reader I had put in contact with Stacey. The email was dated September 30 (Selfish ASS, I am).
I talked to Stacey last night. She called to let me know that she had her baby on Wednesday. She had been told that she was having a girl so she was very surprised when out “popped” a little boy. She named him Kyle Lewis. She is doing much better; she was having problems with her blood pressure being too high. The doctors have been giving here medication to keep the pressure down but it causes her to feel extremely drugged. She hopes to be released on Saturday.
She let me know that she has received lots of candles thanks to your website, and she is very grateful. The UPS man now knows her by name and even commented on how much we must love her.
I’ll update you again after I go visit her. She is going to call me once she is home. My daughter and I are so excited about getting to love up on the new baby. I am going to put together an all boy gift basket to take with us. It has been 8 years since I had a newborn, Is there anything you can think of that would be perfect for the basket (you have 2 boys, I have none J). Is there anything that you couldn’t live with out after you had Gabby?
Nicole
I really wanted to thank each and every one of you for being so generous and TOTALLY AWESOME in helping her out. I will call her tomorrow to get another update.
It’s not funny and yet, JAJAJA
I’m so angry tonight.
Angry and hurt. Not for myself, for my husband.
Ok. For myself too.
Just when I thought I had a little extra money to splurge on some Fancy Hair Product and maybe just maybe book a flight to Las Vegas for a Girls Night Out, our dryer breaks. CANCEL THOSE PLANS.
No big deal, right? Wrong. Because it ALWAYS happens to us. We get excited about something and then BOOM… Life gives us the Middle Finger.
A few weeks ago, my husband, who is the hardest working man, dedicated, NEVER CALLS IN SICK, ALWAYS DOES MORE THAN IS ASKED OF HIM, never complains, EVER, asked for a small raise and a company truck. The company is always making it a point to tell him he’s the “best operator they’ve got” but they never put their money where their mouth is. His “boss” told him he couldn’t give him a raise at the time, but that, yeah! We’ll get ya a company truck and it will be yours to do with as you please!
Tony came home so excited, feeling somewhat valued and appreciated. He was smiling from ear to ear “I’m getting a company truck babe! It’s ok if I didn’t get the raise, they’re giving me a truck, I’m ok with that!”
He’s been waiting patiently for a few weeks now. Last night, he got the call that they had a truck ready for him. They informed him it was “an older truck” and that it “needed a paint job.”
All day long, I was thinking about it, wondering “How bad could it be? Surely, they’ll not give a piece of shit truck to THEIR BEST OPERATOR! When they say ‘a paint job’, surely they mean there are a few scratches that need touched up!”
Four pm rolls around and I hear the familiar sound of boots stomping dirt on the sidewalk. I run to the door. The look on my husband’s face said it all. I KNEW it wasn’t good. He was visibly upset. I took a deep breath and I looked over his shoulder. As soon as I saw it, Iunderstood why he looked so damn depressed.
Y’all? Behold The Company Truck, Which, They Weren’t Lying, Needs A Paint Job, Among “Other” types of Jobs.
Too bad I didn’t have a blog back then, because The Internet NEVER would have let me wear that veil.
I believe I wrote about “My Big Fat Stupid Ugly Germican Wedding” once before. However, today, I was doing what I do when I get emotional…looking through photo albums. As I flipped through the pages of my wedding album, I thought OMG! I have to take pictures of this for The Internet to see how HILARIOUS my wedding was.
People. It IS hilarious.
I must defend myself before you see these pictures.
1.) It was 1990. “Bigger” “Puffier” = “Better”
2.) I was only 19 years old. My parents still controlled everything
that I did. I’m not bringing that up because I’m bitter, but
because that explains a)why I am NOT wearing makeup. b)why I am
NOT wearing jewelery. c) MY HAIR
3.) I wish I had a third reason, but I don’t. But, man, I wish I
did.
Are you ready for Pure Puffy Hotness?
Let’s start with The Bangs, shall we? Because I KNOW you’re freaked out by The Bangs. A week before the wedding, I had no bangs. My hair was all one length and MAN, was it long. My friend was going to pay for this really awesome stylist named “Johnny” to do my hair. BUT, for reasons that I will not get into here, my parents didn’t want “Johnny” to do my hair, SO, I decided to use my mom’s friend’s “stylist” (and I use that term VERY LOOSELY). She decided to chop me some bangs, an entire TOP OF MY HEAD worth of ’em and RAT THEM TO HEAVEN. Then, she just put the rest of my hair in a BUN that half fell out before the wedding even started. Perfect!
The Veil. What can I say about The Veil? “IT was HUGE?” “Man, that’s a LOT of pearls!” Seriously. It is what it is. And, what it is, was FUGLY.
The Dress. I was so damn proud of those “puffy sleaves”. I aint even gonna lie. What I did not realize was how “Amish” the dress was. Because… THERE IS NO SKIN SHOWING WHATSOEVER. But, hey, it had puffy sleaves AND “A Train” “With Bows”!
Lack of makeup/jewelery. It was against my parents religion. That’s all I can say about that.
I think I’ll let those pictures speak for themselves.
Remember, I said “Bigger”=”Better”? That would be why my cake was BIGGER THAN GOD. 3 foot base cake, with 4 round cakes, a fountain, and a stairway to heaven. Don’t be jealous of my Cake With A Fountain.
There is ONE picture from our wedding that I love. For several reasons. My Tiny Waist, the smile on Tony’s face (because, you know why.), how happy we look. And for a moment, when I look at that picture, I forget how, um, HORRIBLE everything about our wedding was, but then, I LOOK AT THIS WITH THE HAIR STYLE FROM HELL and I am reminded that, yeah, our wedding was so very ugly. (But so very hilarious. At least I can laugh about it.)