Moving on up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Do you know what I miss about my old neighborhood?
The crazy ass neighbors.
Sure, they were tweakers and drunks and liked to stab each other and have sex on the front lawn at 5 in the morning and shoot flaming things out of potato launchers and collect trash (bonus: Rats!) But, hey! At least they had personality. The people here are all stuck up, snooty assholes who never come outside and actually turn the other way when they see me.
The only thing that the lady– oh wait, did I just call her “the lady?” Because I totally meant to say “the bitch.” My bad– the only thing that the bitch next door has ever said to me was this.
“So, did you guys buy the place, or are you renting.”
And when I said “Oh, we’re just renting.
She let out judgmental “Ohohohhhhh” and then said “well, are you guys decorating for Christmas? Because there aren’t ever lights up at this house because it’s always been RENTERS who live here.”
Because, you know, RENTERS! don’t decorate for holidays. They’re too busy being drunk, breeding and NOT DOING THE MATH! to do things like “hang up Christmas lights.”
She’s never once said another word to me. In fact? There have been times where I’ve been standing in my driveway and she’s walking to her house and she won’t even glance my way. I think she’s afraid she’ll catch a bad case of The RENTERS! If she gets too close.
Today she informed PigHunter that the show “Trading Spaces” is going to be here in two weeks to do a room in her house. She was all Fake Nice, acting like she was telling him so that we were prepared for the chaos, but bitch just wanted us to know that “Like, OMG! I’m totally going to be on TV!”
I seriously ALL CAPS LOATHE HER and would much rather have Big, Dirty Hairy Guy Who Lives in A Non Functional Trailer and Watches Hermaphrodite Porn all Day with His Double Sided Dildo for a neighbor again than her.
Seriously.
In other, more exciting (to me) news, Jay Mohr has agreed to let me interview him on this blog. Yes, I still kind of really love him (shut!up!) and so I’m happy he kind of sort of likes me back enough (SHUT!UP!) to have agreed to do this. I have no idea how many questions he’ll be comfortable asking, but I do know that there are a few JM fans who read this blog, SO! If you have a burning question that you have always wanted to ask him and will DIE IF YOU DO NOT GET TO ASK HIM, shoot me an email or leave it here in the comments.
Awww, looked at us in 04.
Happy 4th of July!
Remind Me to Tell You About the Greatest “Hmmmm…” Comment in the History of This Blog.
My test results have been showing up online for a couple of days now. I’ve stopped googling the results, but I have been checking them out to see if any are flagged “abnormal.” It’s frustrating knowing the results, but not being able to talk to my doctor about them until THE END OF JULY. The ones that I’ve been the most worried about (pap smear/uterine biopsy) are not tests that post online. I was given a phone number to call to check on those. They told me that they’d be ready in 2-3 weeks.
Because I have ZERO patience, I decided to call this afternoon because, you never know! Maybe the results were in early!
I put in all of the information that they asked for and waited.
“You have 6 new test results.” The automated voice said.
“Your total cholesterol was 170.”
I completely forgot she ordered cholesterol tests. I was too focused on the whole “checking for cancer!”
With the exception of HDL being a tad bit high (normal range for women is under 50. Mine was 54) all of my cholesterol was good.
Then, the automated voice said “the pap smear/cervical screening taken on June 24th were….”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
I took a deep breath and waited.
Normal.
One down, one to go. But honestly? I’m not worried about cancer anymore because from what I’ve read, uterine cancer involves a lot of bleeding. My problem is the exact opposite. Today is three months exactly since my last period.
I still have questions that need to be answered (do I have PCOS? A pituitary disorder?)– but it’s looking more and more like the answer to those questions will NOT be “cancer.” And because I’m sick of negativity, I’m going to rejoice in this one piece of wonderfully, glorious good news. I’d love it if you’d join me because so many of you have given me the support and encouragement that I’ve needed throughout this ordeal. I can’t even begin to thank you enough.
Fear. And Peeing. But Mostly, Fear
Yesterday I was informed that I needed to have a biopsy on my uterus. Five minutes later, I was laying on my back having things inserted into my vagina.
And it hurt.
And I was scared.
And I started to cry because my husband wasn’t there to hold my hand.
And also because the doctor said the “C” word, as in “we need to check for cancer.”
She also said that she didn’t think it was cancer, but because of my symptoms she absolutely needed to check as a precautionary measure.
She informed me that my endocrinologist had ordered a bunch of tests that would probably have the answer to why I hadn’t had a period since March 26. (last week I thought I started, but it was just a little bit of blood when I wiped (TMi!) and then… nothing.) So, after I was done having the biopsy, I headed to the lab where they took 5 viles of blood for 10 different tests.
They also handed me just the little bit of comic relief that I need to help get me through these uncertain times…
My Giant Jug O’ Pee.
That right there is a jug that I must pee in starting tomorrow morning for 24 hours and I must store it IN THE REFRIGERATOR. That went over really well with The Family. “Hey everyone! This right here is NOT a giant tub of orange juice, it is MY URINE, so please do not drink it, ok? Thanks!”
What the hell has happened to me?
Some of results from my blood work have already started to show up online and I did a little “Google” search of some of the results. BIG MISTAKE. However, after reading the results I’m hopeful it’s not cancer. But, the little voices in my head keep whispering “But what if…”
And for the first time since my health problems started (or were FINALLY DIAGNOSED) I am genuinely terrified. Not the kind of terrified where I flippantly say “OMG! I think I have cancer!” because I’m a paranoid freak, but the kind of terrified where I say “Oh my God, I could possibly have cancer.” Even if it’s NOT cancer, there are other things that could be wrong that are not good at all.
I’m angry and bitter that I wasn’t taken seriously for so long by my doctor. I can’t help but think that the delay in treatment is the reason I’m having so many problems now. I am asking God to help me let the bitterness go, but it’s really fucking hard when your body is messed up in ways that you never imagined and you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.
I’ve cried today more than I’ve cried in a long time– the fear is overwhelming at times, but deep down I know that I’ll be fine.
Even if.
There’s a Very Good Chance This is Only Funny to Me.
Emergency Gynecology appointment in an hour so I don’t have time to write much, but I wanted to show you a video I took over the weekend.
I was on a Sound of Music kick this weekend and I kept playing the songs over and over. My daughter who apparently can not stand the sound of my voice, kept coming into the room with excuses as to why I needed to STOP!SINGING!RIGHT!THIS!MINUTE! Of course, this made me want to sing louder because “I can sing if I want to! You are not the boss of me little one!” So, I put on Edelweiss for the 80th time, turned the video camera on and placed it on my desk so that she wouldn’t know it was on and began singing in the most dramatic (annoying?) voice. Within .3 seconds, she was in my room asking me to stop singing because “The baby (who does not actually exist) was sleeping!”
Keep in mind as your listening that my Uncle once told me (in front of my entire family after watching a video of me singing at church) that I sounded like “A dying cow.” SO, NO NEED TO TELL ME I CAN NOT SING. I already kind of know.
You Know Your Day is Probably Going to Suck When….
As you’re putting the only bra on that still fits you, you notice the wire is sticking out of the side, stabbing you in the armpit and as you’re trying to shove that bitch back in and “Make it Work”, you accidentally drop your only clean pair of chonis in the toilet and as you’re fishing them out of the toilet, you hear your daughter call her brother an “Asshole” because he won’t “share his pen.”
Oh, and? You have to make 40 German Pancakes for your Son’s “Food From Around The World” day and have them at the school by 8am.
SHIT.
If She Ever Asks Me To Draw The Celtics, I’m Going to Draw a Big Hairy Ass Checking Itself.
Whenever I sit down with my daughter to color, I always get a little bit nervous that she’ll ask me to draw something other than a happy face or a flower. You see, her dad can look at a picture of something and copy it to look almost exactly the same. So, she can go to her Dad and say something like “Dad, can you draw Shrek?” And he’ll say “Sure I can! Bring me the DVD so I can look at it!” And within a few minutes, she’ll be smiling from ear to ear, running around the house showing off the custom drawing of Shrek that Daddy made for her.
Now, whenever she asks me to draw something for her it’s a completely different story. Every single time she asks me to draw something for her there is an emotional breakdown of some kind.
“That’s not Snow White! That’s a piece of poop! WAHHHHH!”
“No! Look! It’s Snow White! Look at her pretty hair!”
“That’s not hair! That’s poop! I WANT SNOW WHITE NOT POOP! WAHHHH”
“That’s the best I can do, little girl. I’m sorry I’m not talented like your Dad!”
So, imagine the horror I felt deep down in my soul yesterday when we were having a precious little tea party and my daughter blurted out the words, “Will you draw Woody and Jesse for me, Mama?”
SHIT.
I tried explaining to her that I can NOT draw and “Hey! I have an idea! Let’s wait til Daddy gets home and we’ll ask him to draw Woody and Jesse for you! He loves to draw for you!”
“But MooOOoooOm! I want YOU to draw them for me!”
There was no getting out of it. I was going to have to try to draw Woody and Jesse. This wasn’t going to end well.
She brought me the DVD covers and I began to draw. She leaned in and watched me intensely as I began to sketch. My heart was pounding. My hands were sweaty. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before we’d both be laying on the floor in tears.
When I was finished drawing, I took a deep breath and waited for her response. I was fully expecting the “OMG THIS DOESNT’ LOOK LIKE WOODY!” Emotional Breakdown because, well…
She looked. She tilted her head. Then, she turned to me and said “MOM!”
Oh NOES. Here we go, I thought.
“You didn’t give Jesse eyelashes!”
She grabbed the pen from me, begin to add some lashes and when she was finished, she giggled and said “there, now it looks like Jesse!”
Sure it does. If Jesse were a demented Old Circus Monkey*!
She loved them. Absolutely loved them. And that is why I love that little girl– she is so unpredictable and almost always in a wonderful way. Every day is full of surprise and new adventures and I am enjoying the hell out of her and her Dramatic ways.
(Speaking of Dramatics… I leave you with this gem. Numbers in Opera.)
*If you get the reference, I kind of love you.
Dear Celtic Fans, Check Your Ass.
Projecting.
Why “trollish” type comments do not bother me.
Commenter name: Mimi
Commenter IP address: 71.117.98.*
Hi
That’s bull shit. You are all addicted to those lakers and to that Kolbe
who is making millions of dollars thanks to all of your addictions,
meanwhile causes all those dramas in your life. It’s really stupid, that
you are all addicted to these lakers as if you are addicted to drugs. It’s
the same thing. Sit in front of TV and watch a game that never ends,
sacrify your children, the quality learning time you can give to them. The
Mom giving that lakers ticket is just sad, cause she is submissive and
letting her freedom guided by her husband who is addicted to watch a game,
above all he is not even fit. this society is just poison to your brains.
People are getting so ridiculous. good luck. Soon also, check your ass to
see how many pounds you gain watching that Tv
Because 99.99% the comments aren’t really about me. The search that led “Mimi” to my blog?
See what I mean?
For the record, “CHECK YOUR ASS” is my new favorite comeback to everything in the world.
More Talk About Faith and My Complete Lack of It.
Someone very close to me recently told me that God spoke to her and told her that he wants to heal me.
She was afraid to tell me for fear that I’d laugh at her. Perhaps it’s because she knows that I do not do not have faith and if one does not have faith, how in the hell is one to believe that God told someone he wants to heal me?
I have thought about it ever since. What if God really did speak to her and what if he really does want to heal me? What if this is the part where I say “Okay, God. I believe you want to heal me and I have faith that you will?”
But that’s crazy, right? That’s crazy to say “I believe God spoke to someone about ME because he wants to heal ME?”
So, my question to you is this.
If someone told you that God spoke to them about you, would you believe it? Or would you laugh at them? Do you believe God truly speaks to people?
I would love to hear your answers.