My husband just got laid off.
Honestly. I could die.
We were just looking for a new car for him since his broke down for good. We were also trying to work it in our budget to have the kids teeth fixed. And other things. They aren’t going to happen now and I just don’t know what to do. I feel numb. And scared.
Mostly scared.
updated.
A little bit of good news and right now, I’ll take every bit of good news, no matter how small.
Sub division of company will hire him on so that we get to keep our health insurance. (which is actually more than a little bit of good news.) However, he will no longer be on salary and will lose a $750 monthly vehicle allowance. Also, since he’ll not be on salary, he will only get paid for hours worked and well, right now, there isn’t any work. But, at least it’s something to help get us through, hopefully. And at the very least, we have health insurance, so I can breathe again because that would have sucked more than I can even express in words.
Thank you for your kind words, it helps. Every single bit of kindness helps.
Much love.
-Y
When in Doubt (or in Thyroid Hell) Post Pictures!
When I came home from BlogHer, I had all of these profound! And Wonderful! things that I wanted to write about. But I was tired. Very, very tired. So, I would say “I will write about it tomorrow after I catch up on my rest!”
Here we are 5 days later and I am still tired. The kind of tired that has me knocked flat on my ass and it hit me that it probably has nothing to do with the trip to San Francisco –a) I didn’t leave my time zone as it was in the same state b) I got more sleep while there than I normally do at home c) I did not once get drunk, which, CRAZY, I know!– and everything to do with my mother effing thyroid. It’s been over 2 months since my last TSH test and I am pretty sure that it’s crashing again and I need a medication adjustment. It’s not just “The Tired” that leads me to this conclusion, but also the fact that I’ve been doing boneheaded things, like, losing my cell phone (have never in my life lost a cell phone) and then losing the box with the charger to my new phone at the hotel. (p.s. if I had your number, can you please text me or email me your number again? Am feeling horribly lost without your names in my contacts list.)
Until this brain of mine is functioning again, which will hopefully be by tonight, because I really need my brain tonight, I am going to leave you with my favorite pictures from San Francisco. Lame, I know. Take it up with my thyroid, man.
Lindsay was a good sport and posed for a few shots while we were waiting for the trolley to leave. They ended up being some of my best shots. Ever.
The view from the Alpha Mom (a.k.a cheeseburger headquarters) Suite on the 11th floor of the Westin St. Francis. Strangely, there was no screen in the window, which made me very happy (because I could get awesome pictures) but also terrified me so much that my vagina went weak with fear. Like, literally, I felt the fear in my vagina as I leaned out.
Taken at the book signing for Sleep is for the Weak (the lovechild of Rita. I was supposed to be in that book, but being the flake that I am, forgot to turn in my stuff in time. Kicking myself for eternity for that one.
I stopped to take pictures of this man and his jewelery in an attempt to get rid of the homeless man who was trying to pick up on me. At first it was a great conversation, but then he asked if I was single while staring at my tittays and I was like “WHOA.” But still, he was nice, so I continued to be polite, but then he refused to believe that I was married because I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and I was like “this conversation must come to an end now!” I suppose that’s why I love this picture so much, because I will forever be reminded of the fact that a homeless man tried to “get with this” and that can only mean one thing… THAT I’VE STILL GOT IT.
This was taken on a cruise (thank you, Isabel! and Nintendo!) of the San Francisco Bay. I wanted a different perspective of the city lights, so I turned off auto focus and went for some preeeetty bokeh. I love the results. (And THANK YOU to Shutter Sisters for making this shot the “Daily Click.”)
And last, but certainly not least…
Because a room full of women whom I love, respect and admire wearing McDonald’s hats on their heads WHILE having Serious Conversations will never stop being funny to me. NEVER.
What Happens at BlogHer Most Definitely Does Not Stay at BlogHer
When I think back on the weekend, it’s the little moments that stand out and make me laugh out loud randomly throughout the day.
Like, the time I was on a boat with Isabel and was all “Look how beautiful the fog is. I love how it looks in the pictures!” and then I realized that it was not fog at all, but steam from the boat. “It’s ok, we can pretend it’s fog.” Isabel said, ever so sweetly.
Or the time that I farted while SJ was talking to me in the room and I had to announce it because I wasn’t sure if she heard it or not and well, it’s always better to be all “Yeah, I farted. JEALOUS?” Then to pretend like you didn’t fart at all.
Or the time that I kept talking to Lindsay during the keynote and she finally had had enough and was all “SHHHHHHHHHHHH!” And I kind of wanted to cry because well, SHE SHUSHED ME! But then I couldn’t stop laughing because “ha ha ha ha she shushed me.”
Or, the time I was hanging out in the men’s bathroom with a bunch of really hilarious women and one martini glass was sitting on the urinal and for some reason that I can’t remember, me and Jenny started singing “A Whole New World” and Mrs Flinger took out her video camera to record it without my knowledge and posted it on flickr.
And while I should pretend to be really pissed off that she did that, I can’t because it makes me weep with laughter seeing proof that I really was belting Disney tunes in the men’s restroom while completely sober.
And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons that I do and always will love BlogHer.
More to come tomorrow…
Oh San Francisco, You so Crazy.
Overwhelmed.
That is how I feel.
Overwhelmed with both good, bad. Happy. sad. Anger. Love.
But mostly good, happy and love.
This weekend will take days if not weeks for me to process. The love that I felt from both friends and strangers alike. The unwarranted ugliness in a crowded room. The sadness I saw watching a friend struggle to keep it together. The beauty I saw in a group of women whose positive energy (OMG. BIG FAT OPRAH HEAD) carried me through one of the most terrifying, yet amazing moments of my entire life. The cheeseburgers. Oh my GOD, the cheeseburgers.
I’ll write it all very soon, I just need to sort it all out first.
And by “sort it all out” I really mean “take a 4 day nap because Holy Mother of Hotel Security, I am tired.”
(P.S. I met some amazing women who have wonderfully written blogs and I look forward to sharing them with you in the next few days. Today, I really think you should go and read Lesbian Dad. I promise you that it will be worth your time.)
Hi. Where’s the Bar?
I am currently sitting in LAX waiting standby for a 5:30 flight into San Francisco.
Scratch that. I’m now waiting for a 7:30 flight because this flight is full
Of fucking course it is!
I’ve been here since 12:00 this afternoon.
Flight was canceled. Couldn’t get on a flight til the morning. Then got confirmed for a 9pm flight. Then was told I could go on United, which was like 4 terminals away.
I had to walk.
Feet are swollen and tore the eff up.
Had to go through security again.
Got selected for the “random search” OF COURSE I DID!!
I’m sweaty. Tired. Angry. And ready to punch the next asshole who steps on my mother effing toe.
Seriously? Why must everything go wrong for me? And if you tell me it’s because I need to put “Positive Energy” out to the universe, I’ll punch you in your big, fat Oprah head.
I don’t even know what a big fat Oprah head is, but I swear to GOD, I will punch you in it.
Oh Yes I Did Write a BlogHer Post.
I want to tell you a story about my first year at BlogHer.
I wasn’t particularly nervous about fitting in or any of that crap. I’m a “Make My Own Fun” kind of person and don’t really give a shit if people “invite me to sit at their table” or not. I knew that I’d have fun because I had a fabulous roommate and was looking forward to meeting the people I had come to know online through my blog.
When I arrived, things were just as I had imagined. Better, actually. And then “it” happened.
I had just finished doing the Alpha Mom interview and as I was walking out with my friend, someone asked what we were doing next.
“We’re going to the party in Super Star Bloggers room!”
The Exclusive Party That I Wasn’t Invited To.
“Um, I wasn’t invited to that party.” I said to my friend.
“Ohhhh.” she said. things got a little awkward. “Well, I am going.”
In that moment, I could have felt highly offended. I was snubbed! The PopEweLers! don’t like me! I’m a loser! Wah!
But, guess what? I didn’t care. In fact, I couldn’t have cared less. I didn’t have the energy to sit and pout because a bunch of people who I didn’t know and weren’t interested in getting to know me didn’t invite me to their party. There were people to talk to and booze to drink and Drive By Farters to laugh at.
At last years conference, while Elizabeth Edwards was speaking, my roommate Lena began passing “let’s have a party in our room!” notes back and forth.
“Who should we invite?”
“Whoever wants to come.”
“What about her, her and her?”
“Yes! And her and her, her her her and her!”
“Oh! and her!”
“How about we just tell people we talk to at the Cock! Tail! Party to come up to our room when it’s over!”
“We can go to 7-11 and buy booze! And fritos! And bean dip!”
“YES!”
At the party, I told everyone I talked to about our party.
“Come to our party in 2603”
“We’re having booze and bean dip in room 2603! Come join us!”
“Room 2603! Be there!”
When we got on the bus to go back to the hotel, I started to get a little worried.
“I’m scared that everyone will show up. What will we do if that happens?” I asked Lena.
“Um, how many people did you invite, Y?”
“Only… everyone that I talked to..”
We laughed and laughed. Then we got scared. What if everyone showed up? Or, even worse, what if absolutely NO one showed up?
Once we got to the room, we met up with Lindsay, SJ, and Kathy and decided to take a trip to buy “food and drink” for our party.
That trip to 7-11 is one of my favorite memories of the entire trip. Nothing funnier than a bunch of bloggers deciding which booze to buy for their hotel room party at 10pm on a Saturday night.
We were totally stoked with our bottles of booze and cans of bean as we walked the streets of Chicago. Now, I’m not trying to brag here, but as we were walking to our hotel room, I spotted a McDonalds and came up with one of my Top 10 Greatest Ideas in the History of My Life.
“Hey! Let’s grab some Cheeseburgers and fries to pass out at our party!”
And everyone was all “OMFG YES!”
15 minutes later, we were in our room with a dresser full of liquor and a bed full of McDonald bags.
Within a few minutes, people started filing into the room.
“Wanna Cheeseburger!” I’d say all happy like with my Bag Hat.
But, after about the 10th person, I started getting a little nervous because I’m totally scared of The Law. I had heard rumors about Security breaking up a room of FOUR people and so I was like “let’s try to keep it down, people.”
I lost count of how many people were filing into the room, but I can tell you that it was a lot. There wasn’t anywhere to stand, so people began sitting on our beds and on our pillows (WHILE EATING BEAN DIP.) and man, did it get loud.
Within minutes, we were out of cheeseburgers.
And it was sad.
God, it was so much fun being crammed into that room, talking to all of those people. Most of them I didn’t even know! And they didn’t know me! And yet, we sat on a bed and talked while drinking Smirnoff Ice.
Then, all of a sudden, someone came running in saying something about “Security’s coming!”
And Lindsay grabbed me and pulled me into the bathroom where we hid because, I told you… SCARED OF THE LAW.
I would have stayed in there too, but they started asking questions.
“Who’s room is this?”
Shit.
So, I took off my Bag Hat, walked out of the bathroom scared shitless of the GIANT MEN who wanted to “have a word with me.”
“Hi, can I help you?”
“Is this your room?”
“Yes sir.”
And then, I said the dumbest thing that I bet that man has ever heard when breaking up a party.
“Sir, we’re just writers. We’re just writers talking. And eating cheeseburgers. We’re just writers,sir”
You can see that Big Dude is trying really hard not to laugh, which was good because he wasn’t smiling when I first started talking. He couldn’t hold it back any longer because… we’re just writers, sir.
The party couldn’t have lasted longer than an hour, but the memories that were made in that room that night still make me laugh so hard that it hurts a year later. I loved the experience of chatting with people who I might not have otherwise had the chance to talk to while wearing a bag on my head and that it seemed completely normal and not at all lame to everyone there. It was just one of the most absurdly hilarious nights of my life.
And guess what?
We’re doing it again this year. Only this year, it’s going to Kick So Much Ass because Isabel from Alpha Mom has graciously offered to host our party. And let me tell you, She knows how to throw a party.
If you’re going to be at BlogHer, Myself, Lindsay and SJ would love for you to join us on Saturday night. It will start around 9:30 pm. We don’t have a room number yet, so you’ll have to find one of us or you can email me and I’ll give you my number so we can get in touch.
MY GOD, my fingers hurt. No time to edit. Must go to sleep. Airport in 11 hours. WOO.
What Three Years Later Looks Like.
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.