Highly Laughable

Biggest maternity lie out there:

Purchase your pre-pregnancy size!

All You Need Is Love

Is it true, is love all you need? And if you have love and trust and honesty and dedication and ALL of those things, then why does a lack of intimacy make it feel like not enough? Why must I nitpick the one small area when everything else is so amazing?

And why must I run it all through my head over and over and pick and pick until it is an open, festering wound that hurts like hell?

He Said, She Said

Her: It's kind of like having the best sex of your life, but you know you're going to get gonorrhea, ya know?
Him: No, actually I'm not familiar with that.
Her: Yeah, me either...

Oh. Dear. God.

Peace Symbol Equals Sign to Drop Bombs on Iraq

Honestly, I don't care what side of the fence you sit on regarding the war in Iraq, terrorism, or what have you, this is taking it too far. The woman cannot hang a peace sign Christmas wreath because it is considered "divisive"? Or better yet, a "symbol of Satan"?

Grow the fuck up, dude.

Oh, and I love this little tidbit at the end regarding the HOA president:

Kearns ordered the committee to require Jensen to remove the wreath, but members refused after concluding that it was merely a seasonal symbol that didn't say anything.

Kearns fired all five committee members.

Yes, they're using logic, fire them all! Off with their heads!

Five Months Later

Now we're just waiting for word on the knee - hopefully we'll know something this Friday!

Clearly Bob Vila I Am Not

So last night, ten to two in the morning to be exact, our water heater decided it had had enough. And it's not as if it could just decide it was done and not work, no no, in the R household, things must go out with a bang.

So after a $1300 estimate from the plumber to replace the damned thing, L and I decide we will just head to Lowe's and install a new water heater ourselves. Surely our sanity is not worth $1300, no?

After returning from Lowe's a few hundred dollars poorer, L realizes he needs more items and asks me to return and get them. Now let me back up here for a second and relay to you the fact that I HATE going to the hardware store for items that L needs because a) I'm never really sure what the hell it is he's talking about and b) sometimes he isn't either, he just wants me to ask some customer service rep for help.

Soooooo, I trot on into the hardware store (and by trot I mean waddle because let's face it, I feel like I have a watermelon between my legs) and start hunting for a ninety-degree copper elbow and some copper piping to fit. L keeps telling me he needs everything to be 3/4" so this is what I'm picking up, though I'm beginning to wonder how the hell he is going to join this stuff together as it is all the same diameter.

"Um, I don't know how this fits together, L."

"Look for a coupling sleeve."

"Um, there isn't anything here marked "coupling sleeve," just "coupling" and it's all the same diameter, nothing fits into each other."

"Go ask for help."

*sigh*

And by sigh I mean, "I really wish you would get your ass down here and do this because even if I ask for help I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU NEED SO HOW CAN I DESCRIBE IT??"

So along comes Joe, who is trying very hard to take the "customer service" out of Customer Service Representative.

"I need some kind of copper something to fit into this 3/4" elbow - my husband said I need a coupling sleeve... ?"

"There's no such thing."

"Ok, can you tell me how I'm supposed to make this copper pipe thingy fit into this elbow thingy?"

"That's a coupling."

"What's a coupling?"

"The "copper pipe thingy" you're holding."

"Ok, how do I make it fit into -- "

And without one word he takes the coupling away from me and hands me a 3/4" diameter piece of copper pipe which - VOILA! - fits perfectly.

"Oh, I gotcha. Sorry, I had no idea what my husband needed."

"If you have no idea, why isn't he here getting it then?"

Joe, I misjudged you. You are indeed a smart man.

Dear...

Wholesomely Cute Stockboy at Ace Hardware:

Thank you for asking me if I needed help as I tried to mire my way through the Black Friday crowd and then pulling up a lawn chair and offering to fetch all of my items for me as I "rested my feet." You really made my day just by recognizing the fact that I was tired and fighting my way through a sea of crazy Christmas shoppers just for one bottle of Lestoil (God's gift to laundry, by the way) wasn't exactly tops on my list of things to do today.

You're probably one of those boys who always calls his mother and plays a quick game of toss the pigskin with Grandpop every Sunday, aren't you?

Hugs and kisses,

greeneyes

Genius In Disguise

As seen on a property listing:

Buy Now Before Price is Lowered!

If I posted, here's what it would look like...

OJ Simpson is a fucking dumbass. There, I said it. I know that to millions of people he is an icon, "The Juice" as it were, but to me he is a bona fide dumbass - either that, or a really big asshole. Who I am fooling? He's both.

"If I did it, here's how it happened"?? Are you kidding me? Save the dramatics and admit it already, you pantywaste. And for god's sake, if he didn't do it then he needs to keep his damned trap shut. I cannot imagine what the Brown/Goldman families must be going through with jughead hashing out details in both book and interview form.

Is OJ that hard up for money that he has to try and profit from such a tragedy? If nothing else, can he not think of his children whose mother was brutally murdered?

Seriously, what a douche.

I also have a good face for radio:

Ganked from the ever-lovely RegionBroad:

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The Inland North
The West
The Northeast
Philadelphia
Boston
North Central
The South
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

30 Week Update

Weight gained so far? 22 pounds
How much of that went to your ass? 21 pounds
How much of that went to your breasts? 21 pounds
Are you still in possession of your ankles? Amazingly, yes.
Number of toilet paper squares it takes to encircle your belly? Nine
How long did it take you to heave yourself out of the tub this morning? Fifteen minutes.
How many times have you gotten stuck while trying on clothes at Destination Maternity? Twice
Would you say you are still in control of your emotions? Yes, of course. Why? Have people been saying something? Those bastards, who are they? I'LL STRANGLE THEM! PEOPLE ARE ASSHOLES! WHAT DO THEY KNOW?! I'M IN COMPLETE CONTROL HERE!!

Weeee! Only ten-ish more weeks to go!

Ain't It Funny

So Mr. L is out of town tonight and so far it's been nothing but drama. First, I get back home from dropping him off and Bubbles decide she is going to play Bowling for Momma and bolt out of the door as soon as I open it and knock me flat on my ass. Then she decides she does not want to come back into the house and that momma is going to have to run her ass all over the neighborhood. Clearly, I was not off to a good start.

Second, after five and a half hours of not being in contact with L and three and a half hours after he was supposed to check into his hotel and call me, the panic sets in. So at 3:30 in the morning, I call the front desk to see if he has arrived and am told no. Calm down, he probably is stuck in traffic or something I tell myself. But it's 3:30 am, what kind of traffic could there possibly BE in Podunk, TN? Construction then I reassure myself - anything to help me retain sanity at this point. Finally, at 6:00 am, Tennessee Highway Patrol tracks L down, fast asleep in his hotel room at the EXACT SAME HOTEL THAT TOLD ME HE WASN'T THERE THREE HOURS PREVIOUSLY. Oh, and he checked in around 1:30 am. Brilliant.

Turns out, there is no cell reception in Podunk and the hotel phones won't let you dial out long distance. Not sure yet if the town is truly behind the times and does not have a payphone anywhere within its limits, but L was sleepy so I'll wait to quiz him on that tomorrow. Or today rather, as it were.

So I'm pissed. Actually, no, I'm physically ill from the worry AND pissed. As hell. And oddly enough, I'm not angry with L, I'm angry with my ex and myself. I'm angry that after two and a half years of a very one-sided relationship and serious late-night shenanigans, I immediately go into Freak the Fuck Out™ mode if someone doesn't contact me when they say they will.

You see, Ex used to be a professional drinker and at the time, I was holding down a more than full time job, so it wasn't as if I could drive his ass to every bar in town every night of the week. Well, every night except Sunday and Monday, unless there was a pitcher special going on somewhere. He would swear to me that he and his friends would have a designated driver or they would ride the bus home, but it never happened. He would come home, hours after he said he would be, stinking drunk and having driven himself. He had a penchant for drunk driving and like a selfish asshole, never bothered to think about the lives he was putting at risk - his own, other people on the road, the people he would potentially leave behind who would be shattered - for his own inebriation and stupidity.

And I just cannot let go of it all. L is completely different, he's caring and trustworthy and I have no reason to believe that he would ever be that careless or stupid. His reasons for not being able to contact me are perfectly legitimate and I believe him when he says he was worried about how worried he knew I would be. So even with all of that in mind, I still cannot let go of the past. I still cannot relax and I'm as much to blame for all of this stressed out bullshit as Ex is. It sickens me that a relationship centered around the selfishness of one person still affects the open, honest, loving, dedicated relationship I have with L.

So, after six hours of worry, extreme stress and positively NO sleep, I am off to bed.

Something Sinister Is Going On In My House

It started maybe five or six months ago, I would notice that items were misplaced around the house and then my dog Cami started following me everywhere as if protecting me against some unseen evil. The clues back then were subtle and I wasn't really picking up on the fact that something was wrong, it was more or less just a small annoyance that occurred every couple of days or so. Still, Cam would not leave my side and even went so far as to guard the bathroom door when I was showering and getting ready for work in the morning.

I suppose the presence in my house became more apparent when the little monster started messing with my clothes. One day, a blouse wouldn't fit quite the same, as if someone had shrunk it - but no, I always dry-cleaned that particular blouse so how could it have shrunk? Then a short time later, someone took in an inch or two from the waist of all of my pants. At first I thought it was funny, I mean, obviously this was not a mean spirit if the worst it would do was alter my clothing, right?

I was wrong. Not even a week later, it started poisoning my food. Everything I ate I would almost instantly vomit right back up. When I finally just gave up on eating, it resorted to tampering with my toothpaste so that every time I brushed my teeth I would gag and gag until finally I resolved myself to my fate and stuck my head in the toilet. At about the same time, the presence also emptied all of my perfume bottles and refilled them with a most foul smelling concoction that would send me racing to the bathroom.

All of this non-eating and throwing up was really taking a toll, I was more exhausted than I thought physically possible and yet somehow SOMEHOW! I had managed to gain weight. But then it dawned on me that no, the spirit had adjusted my scale! At this point I realized the spirit's trickery knew no bounds.

After a few weeks, the presence grew bored of playing with me and things returned to normal around my house - well, normal aside from the wide-angle mirrors it had left behind. I still can't seem to get those to return to the way they were before and show my true figure -all it shows is the most ridiculous bump around my midsection. But aside from that, life had returned to normal. I was finally able to sleep and eat like a decent human being, though Cami was still keeping a close eye on me.

Just when I thought I was in the clear, the spirit has returned. This time it swapped all of the shoes in my closet with those of someone with smaller feet! When I was getting ready for work this evening, it was almost impossible to wedge my feet into my shoes and that's when I realized - they were two sizes too small! Ooooh, you mean little spirit! Why must you torment me this way?

So that's that, I've had it. Mr. L and I are selling and getting as far away from this house as possible. Of course, it will probably take us a few months to sell and find something new, so I'm hoping by February I can be free of this presence.

A Not So Sweet Deal

So my OB called me yesterday and it turns out, I failed my gestational diabetes screening test. So apparently all of the effort I have put into eating healthy was a waste - I could have been eating french fries and ice cream this whole time, damnit!

In all honesty I have a feeling that my "slightly elevated" numbers are directly related to the fact that they tested me the day after Halloween. So thanks to the splurge I let myself have because I had been good all week and eaten mostly fruits and vegetables, I get to take part in the three hour glucose challenge tomorrow morning. This will involve drinking a sugar syrup concoction and then having multiple blood draws performed every hour - yay for the human pin cushion!

In other news, it appears there are now certain areas of my body that I am no longer able to see. Hopefully Mr. L will appreciate the lengths I went to in order to obtain optimum smoothness and reward accordingly, if you know what I mean.

How NOT to Sell Your House

Feature not one but TWO pictures of a transvestite:

Photo found on www.swelldwellings.com.

Hip Update

So it's been almost four and a half months since L's injury and all x-rays are coming up positive. L's been cleared for light duty at work which means that instead of going crazy at home doing nothing, he can go crazy at work dealing with idiots. Amazingly, he is looking forward to this.

While the report on the hip is great news, there was some not so great news regarding his knee. Since he put down the crutches about three weeks ago, L's been having pain in his left knee and some associated popping which the doctor says is more than likely torn cartilage. Since L's been on crutches for the past four months and therefore not using his knee joint at all, the possibility of torn cartilage has gone undetected. So we've started another waiting game - wait and see if the pain and popping goes away and if it doesn't, come back in a month for an MRI to see if the cartilage is torn. Then, depending on the significance of the injury, face the possibility of knee surgery.

So let's break down the time line on this one taking into consideration a worse-case scenario:

1. First week of December - go back for follow up knee visit
2. Sometime a week later - have an MRI
3. Find out L needs surgery
4. Christmas/Busiest time of the year for L as far as work is concerned
5. January - have baby
6. Tear out hair and gnash teeth

I am so ready for this all to end. I'm tired of being on tender hooks about L's condition - I want my husband back NOW. People, we have a baby on the way, when the hell are we supposed to deal with all of this AND get ready for that huge life-changing event? I have absolutely no idea how I am going to manage taking care of everything if L has surgery and is out of commission again - not with only twelve weeks left to go in this pregnancy. Sure, I had to do it all in June when L's accident first happened but I was only nine weeks pregnant and a hell of a lot more mobile.

When L's accident originally happened, we knew we were in for a long haul. We knew things would suck for a while and there would be stress, but I will be honest and say that I never for one second anticipated how far-reaching all of this would be. Stress about taking care of each other, stress about taking care of the house, stress about money, stress on our relationship, stress which lead to pregnancy complications, stress which lead to fights between the two of us, stress which affected how we handled daily activities and encounters... no amount of money that we may eventually settle for is worth what we have been through. If I could choose between all of this with a large cash settlement or none of it - I would choose our boring, ol' vanilla, normal life hands down.

Time to scare the kiddies

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Photo ganked from www.sandemons.com.

Being Hormonal and Judgemental

After my second miscarriage, it was hard for me to see other pregnant mommies and not feel jealous and guilty. Going into my OB's office for weekly check ups and blood draws didn't help the matter much as inevitably there would always be at least one pregnant mommy in the waiting room - such is the peril of going to an OB's office.

While that feeling of jealousy diminished over time, it never really went away as far as some pregnant mommies were concerned. I can remember being at the checkout counter at the grocery with Mr. L almost two months after our miscarriage and the cashier was in high school, unmarried, talking about catching her boyfriend with a cheerleader and quite pregnant. I cried and cried and cried and cursed such an unfair world for allowing someone who couldn't even support herself let alone a child to carry to term. I could provide a baby with a loving home, I could provide a mommy AND a daddy, I could do all of those things and more except actually stay pregnant long enough to have a child. Obviously, I was quite emotional and rationality was something with which I struggled.

Today, despite being pregnant, I felt some of those same feelings creeping back in - but not for me. A close and dear friend of mine is beginning the process of infertility testing/treatment after a long, difficult process of trying to get pregnant and I just hurt so much for her. Here is an amazing woman who would make one kick-ass mom and a little piece of me crumbles when I see these girls bringing children into the world that they didn't plan and can't afford. Just to rub more salt in the wound, tonight on one of the pregnancy message boards I frequent there was a 19 year-old girl talking about how she is living with her boyfriend, can't afford to buy food, and wishes she had never become pregnant. It is all. I. can. do. not to snipe at this girl.

I realize in life there are things we cannot change, but damnit it can suck so hard sometimes.

28 Weeks

Yipes!! Only twelve-ish more weeks to go!

Dear...

Stupid Yankee New Yorker Bitch in My Childbirth Class:

You're right, my child is not going to love me more because I choose not to have an epidural during labor and delivery. Little Bit will have no idea what that even means for many, many years to come nor will she understand the amount of energy, effort, and love that is put into making a birth plan for a pending delivery until she has children of her own, if she so chooses. In fact, by the time LB can understand all of that, she and I will have formed a bond that will be totally independent of whether or not I had an epidural. That relationship will be formed and based on the choices that I make as a parent, not the least of which will include decisions made for my family regarding their health and well being.

If your decision to have an epidural is because it's "available and why not" and is in no way based on any thorough research and long discussions with your spouse, then you are the fool and not I. My health and the health of my baby will not be subject to societal whims simply because "everyone else is doing it." This pregnancy has been difficult enough already (what with almost losing the daddy, heart complications, and random bleeding just to name a few) and if there is one thing I've learned, it's that you have to arm yourself with as much information as possible and try to make the best choice possible for you, if not the most informed. I am in no way opposed to an epidural - it is a great option for many women, it just isn't the best option for me.

And yes, your accent is fucking annoying.

Hugs and kisses,

greeneyes

LUAU!!

October 27th and we finally have heat! As Mr. L and I moved into the house in the late spring, we never had a reason to turn the heat on and therefore we had no idea that we had GAS HEAT and needed to call the GAS COMPANY to have it turned on.

So when we finally went to use our heat in the first week of October, imagine our surprise when it didn't work - and by surprise I mean witness the deathly scowl of a six-month pregnant chick who is cold.

Of course the GAS COMPANY cannot immediately send someone out, nooooo. They make you wait a week, during which time you learn the very fine art of piling on shirt, after shirt, after sweater, after sweater, after blanket (much like this dude) in a sad attempt to stay warm - and no, piling on extreme amounts of clothing is not conducive to moving around. After said week has passed, the GAS COMPANY is a no show and when you call to see what the hell happened because hello! we're fucking cold over here, they tell you the earliest they can dispatch someone is the following week.

I actually started looking forward to going to work so I could thaw out. *shudder*

Lessons in Zoology

We just keep acquiring more and more wildlife. Today I rescued a puppy that some asshole just threw away, and look how cute she is! How can people do that?

She doesn't have a name as of yet, but we keep referring to her as either "Puppy" or "Sweet Pea." L and I are taking Sweet Pea to the local animal rescue that I've adopted dogs from in the past (a no-kill shelter) so they can get her all set up with shots and some antibiotics for a wound she has on her flank. Then it looks we'll be her foster parent for about a week after which they expect to have a kennel opened up for her.

The dog is a total and complete sweetheart, just as loving and docile as could be - how can people just dispose of animals that way? Unbelievable.

Happy Birthday!

This one's for you, Miss Bridget. I miss you.

Stressed

I don't think my husband wants to have sex with me anymore.

I can't believe I'm putting this out into the Innerbunny (as Michelle would call it), but there you have it. I am fully admitting that I am whining here and yes, there are more important things to be stressed about in the world - I get it. Unfortunately knowing that makes me neither less stressed nor less whiny.

Obviously I understand L's lack of desire recently because let's face it, I'm 15 pounds heavier than I used to be and just not a shining example of sexiness in my current pregnant state. It's not as if the man has ever even thought about looking at preggie porn or anything, so why would he be attracted to me? I just don't fit the status quo of his sexual desires these days, folks.

Now L tells me I'm beautiful on a regular basis and I believe him when he says that, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's attracted to this particular brand of "beautiful." I think most pregnant women are beautiful in a glowing, maternal way, but I would never look at one and think, damn, I could get with that. And yes, I have thought that about other women before so that isn't just from a same sex standpoint.

Another part of this equation is a certain ex-boyfriend who, after a year of dating, just decided he really wasn't that into sleeping with me anymore. Didn't know why, didn't think it had anything to do with me, just flat out wasn't interested anymore. So at this point in my life, I've taken two perfectly healthy, young, virile men and, for whatever reason, caused them to stop wanting to have sex with me.

It's a blow to my self esteem. *sigh*

So what is there to do? I've stopped coming on to L in the hopes that a little absence makes the heart grow fonder will spark some interest - but after a week of feigning disinterest, I've got nothing. No attempts made on his part and for fuck's sake, I can't even remember the last time we kissed. I've previously tried just jumping him but that resulted in a disastrous episode entitled "The One in Which L Tries Really, Really Hard to Come and Ends Up Doing So While Only Semi-Hard."

I thought the only reason you were supposed to be married when you're pregnant is so that there is someone legally bound to have sex with you. Apparently I was misinformed.

Yay! No more fumes!

Well, I had a whole post typed up and ready to roll but somehow managed to delete it. So instead of witty commentary, you just get pictures as I no longer feel like typing it all out again.

Voila! I give you House of R - now in Technicolor!

Bathroom

Master Bedroom

Hallway

Entryway

Living Room

Kitchen

Sunroom / Dog Room

And yes, I am flash-challenged when it comes to operating a camera.

I'll take toxic fumes for a thousand, Alex

So Mr. L and I are painting the house, and by we I mean he is and I'm trying to not inhale too many paint fumes.

I went a teensy bit crazy with the colors and was worried that L wouldn't like them, but they look fabulous. At this point we have five rooms down and one to go, nevermind the fact that the last room is going to be a bitch because of the cathedral ceilings and really should count as two.

I'll post pictures after everything has been painted (including trim and crown moulding - blech) and the house is clean again.

Breathe Much?

Seen over at hey freak!: World Record for Most T-Shirts Worn at One Time.

Seriously, my shit would flip from claustrophobia.

*shudder*

I think it's time to break out the Old English...

...and dust this puppy off. :o)

I'm not even going to try to catch up on the past, oh, seven months that I've let this thing rot but I will bring y'all up to speed on the most important things:

1. Bought a house
2. Old house is broken into on THE DAY we are moving out
3. Rear-ended on the freeway while driving up to see my parents in Delaware
4. Came back from Delaware, found out we're pregnant
5. Much freaking out ensued
6. Mr. L is out on a training ride for a charity cycling event and is hit by a truck
7. Even more freaking out ensued
8. Dropped to part-time at work in order to take care of L (currently known as Broken Hip Boy™ or Hobbes)

So yeah, my summer has been a rollercoaster to say the least. Hopefully now that I'm working a little less - ok, who am I kidding? I'll be working the same amount if not more, just not in an actual "office" - I can keep up with this thing a little better... but no promises. :)

Holy Shit

Buying a house = really fucking stressful and emotionally draining.

That is all.

Giddy Up

Today I met the reason why my husband is so damned good in bed: Wonder Horse


Can't you just see lil L shaggin' riding the hell out of that thing?

Yes, there is a god.

More Boys, More Fun

This guy takes the cake: The Pterodactyl
(please note that extremely loud, annoying, obnoxious music will play when you click this link)

I thought seriously he must be joking, but no, he has his own MySpace groups with names such as "Pterodactyl Fan Club," "PTERODACTYL LOVERS UNITE," "There's a little Pterodactyl in us all" and my personal favorite "i love fucking pterodactyls." I'm not quite sure if the word fucking is being used as a verb or an adjective here, you decide.

I suppose there could be worse things one could obsess over.

Maybe.

He Said, She Said

Her: I don't think that's how it works...
Him: Ok, mom. I mean, I mean Kate! I meant Kate, I was thinking mom, but meant Kate.
Her: Mmm-hmm.
Him: This is gonna hurt.
Her: Mmm-hmm.

Happy Valentine's Day!

This pretty much sums it up:

#@%$&*@#

If you hear a news story about a woman out of Charlotte, North Carolina going bat-shit crazy with road rage, know two things:

1. Yes, I am that crazy bitch, and
2. The other person is a fucking asshole and they totally deserved it

That is all.

Fun With Boys

I recently joined MySpace as a certain blog I enjoy reading there only allows MySpace users to comment. It should be noted that there is nothing of any significance on my webpage, all you will find there is a photo and the fact that I went to Purdue. I didn't answer any of their inane questions such as "Tell us about yourself" "Who I'd like to meet" or "How big are your tits?" (ok, maybe I made the last one up, but you get the idea).

Even with no information about myself on the site, I still get daily messages sent to me from men (and I'm using that term loosely) who want to meet me or "be my friend." Seeing as I get so much enjoyment out of these, I thought I'd post a few for your reading pleasure.

Bachelor Number One: I've got me....get you

Twenty-six year-old male from Charlotte, NC who wants to know "are you picking up, what [he's] putting down????"

His Message:

hey wussup kate? girl you are adorable to me. can i get to know you?

Survey Says: In this great day and age, man has discovered and mastered the usage of upper and lower case letters... come join us!

Bachelor Number Two: Display Name

One hundred year-old male from Space, Egypt who would like to meet "Just some new friends. People to chat with. And what ever else that mite [sic] happen."

His Message:

Hey sweetie how are you doing. Just saw you online. I must say your a very beautiful woman. I would love to get to know you some time.

Survey Says: Sentence structuring. Gets the better of me. Sometimes, too. So does? Knowing when to? Use question marks?

Bachelor Number Three: Steve

Twenty-two year-old male from Charlotte, NC whose interest in books is "I DO NOT DO MUCH READING BUT WHEN I DO I LIKE BOOKS THAT TEACH YOU THINKS."

His Message:

HEY THERE I SEE YOU ARE NEW TO THIS THING SO AM I SO I WOULED LIKE TO BE YOUR BUDDY IF YOU WOULED LIKE TO BE MY STEVE

Survey Says: THE LIGHT AT THE TOP RIGHT OF YOUR KEYBOARD MEANS THE CAPS LOCK IS ON, DUMBASS

Reasons number 454905, 8743085, and 340983509834 I am infinitely happy I am married and not on the dating scene any longer.

Pretty fly, for a white guy

So today I went to the most dreaded of all places: Wal-Mart. I try to shop at Target at all costs but unfortunately they were completely sold out of two things on my list today, potting soil and condoms.

As if purchasing potting soil and condoms didn't raise enough eyebrows as is, my cashier had to bring further attention to my selected items with the following conversation:

Wal-Mart Cashier Bitch: You know you got Magnums?
Me (whilst turning every shade of red): Yes...
WMCB: You a white girl.
Me: Oh my god! I am?!
WMCB (leaning closer to me, voice lowered): Is your boyfriend black?
Me: No, my HUSBAND is white. And well hung. Now will you kindly take my goddamned credit card so I can pay for my Magnums and get the fuck out of this god forsaken hell hole?

Her response to that was to ask Wal-Mart security to step over. "Security" turned out to be the little elderly man at the front door who was kind enough to shoot me a sympathetic look and ask me to pay for my purchases and be on my way, which I did as quickly as possible.

As I was walking out the door, I heard a spray bottle being pumped and the WMCB say, "Don't touch that yet, honey, she had condoms on it."

For the love of christ.

/rant

Genius In Disguise

Today I had a client forget her name and yes, this would be the same client who decided to pop four (!!) Valium in our lobby and then drive herself home.

Pam* was unsure if her name was Pam or Patty but she was pretty sure it wasn't Susan. While I wish I was kidding, you just can't make this shit up, folks. Maybe it was all that Valium or could it be she's had one too many laser zaps to the head? Either way, girlfriend needs to get a clue.

I think there should be some law of physics that once a certain amount of stupidity clusters in one general area, spontaneous combustion occurs. Shit, my hometown would be wiped clean off the map and I'm not sure too many people would mind.

As a good friend would say: They're only alive because it is illegal to kill them.


*Names have been changed to protect the deficient.

Overheard

Her: I think I'll leave a little landing strip...

Him: No, baby, really, get it all done

Her: You just want to pretend you're doing a twelve year old.

Him: No, I just don't need to floss twice a day.

Fateful twist of irony or ironic twist of fate?

Exactly ten months ago I met my husband at a car dealership when I was there with my boyfriend of two and a half years. He for the most part proposed that night.

The boyfriend, whom we'll call The Dirty Rascal, and I were living in Indiana and were tired of the midwest. We wanted to move somplace completely different and in the mean time, his parents were buying him a new car for graduation. While I was really pulling for the Audi and a move to Baltimore, eventually he won and we packed up the Volvo and moved to Charlotte.

When it came time for TDR's car to have the 7,500 mile maintenance done, we took it to our friendly Volvo dealership - maybe a little too friendly in TDR's opinion. After some lively conversation and a few secretive glances between Mr. L and myself, we finally decide to meet up at a local watering hole later that evening... and by we I mean the three of us.

After much drinking, Mr. L and I managed to steal a moment alone. At the same time he said, "Whatever commitment you need from me, you have it," I manged to ever so eloquently confess, "I haven't had sex in a really long time." Neither of us were disappointed in what the other had to say.

Somehow, through all the drama that ensued before, during, and after I left TDR, L and I have managed to have the most open, honest, and loving relationship. He's everything I've ever wanted and needed as well as everything I didn't even know I wanted or needed. He's a gentleman in every respect and yet still loves to play a good game of grab ass.

So, Mr. L, I love you dearly and while the circumstances that lead me to you weren't always what I had envisioned, you are everything I ever could have hoped for. Thank you for the most meaningful ten months of my life. Cheers to a thousand more.

Fire In the Hole

So today I had the process of laser hair removal on my bikini. My full bikini. As Joelle at Snappy Hour would say: the Porn Star.

The front of the bikini area wasn't bad at all but the taint and rectal area... let's just say there's nothing anyone can do or tell you to prepare you for having your asshole lasered. And to be honest, I'm not sure which is worse: the actual procedure or having it performed by one of your coworkers.

But in a few short months and after only five treatments, I'll never have to shave or wax ever again. And that to me is totally worth the lasered ass feeling.

Fringe Benefits

Apparently there were more benefits to dating a professional drinker in college than I was at first aware. To be fair, I would no longer classify my ex as a professional drinker but back in the day... yeeeeeeah.

Anyways, said ex and I moved to Charlotte together with all of our stuff and when things didn't work out a few months later, he moved back to the Midwest. While he didn't leave much more behind than my stuff and a dozen roses, one thing he did leave behind was a box marked "Bar Stuff." A cursory glance led me to assume it was nothing more than the ornamentation he used to adorn his bar and nothing more. I was a little hurt when he said he didn't want it back as some of the books and specialty pourers were gifts from me, but in the end it made little difference.

And so the box sat in my den, waiting for me to decide if I would place it in my attic or toss it to the curb to be picked up with the trash. I opened the box today to see if there was a blacklight in there (so I can find all of the cat piss locations) and found none other than a WASP-ish delight: liquor. And we're not talking just cheap stuff (although dude, McCormick vodka suuuuuuuucks) as there was also some fine selections of Bacardi, Smirnoff, and Cuervo.

So thanks, ex professional drinker boyfriend. Tonight, I drink to you.

Dear...

Clients I had today:

How 'bout ya try not to be so fucking crazy.

Hugs and kisses,

greeneyes

Ten things I know...

...about why I am mad:

1. After a nice evening out on the town
2. Mr. L and I return home to a horrible smell
3. Radiating from our bedroom
4. From where "The Cat" pissed on our bed
5. And bedding, which cost a fortune
6. Which soaked through to the mattress
7. Which cost another small fortune
8. Kitty piss smells like ass
9. No, wait, make that bottled, week-old ass unleashed upon my tender nostrils
10. Kitty better get neutered before I do it myself

ps: I had a lot of bourbon with dinner

It's our own Animal Planet

We have some new wildlife here at the House of R. Allow me to introduce you to Sri Swami Satchidananda:

We call him Satch for short because God knows I can barely say that sober let alone when drunk. Not that I'm a lush or anything, 'cause I'm totally not. Really, no, not me. Uh-uh.

Anyways. More pictures of Mr. Satch:

Isn't he adorable? Just wait until he gets neutered, then I will like him more.

More He Said, She Said

Him: Ok, so I'm going to change into my pajamas and then we'll watch the second Star Wars.
Her: [dead fish eyes]
Him: I mean, we're going to sit around and tell each other how much we love each other.
Her: [dead fish eyes]
Him: I mean...
Her: What you mean is that I'm going to pick what we do tonight and you're going to pretend it was your idea all along.
Him: Exactly, that's what I was saying.

He Said, She Said

Her: sweet
Her: finally!
Her: html is my bitch
Him: along with a long list of others. :-)

Ten Things I Know...

...about being picked up in a coffee shop:

1. It's been done a hundred times already
2. This means you are not original
3. No matter how hard you try you cannot make 16 oz chai sound dirty
4. That means stop trying
5. Please
6. You're making my ears bleed
7. Ok, fine, now I have to use the "M" word
8. Dude, I said I was married, for crissakes
9. Yes, that means I am unavailable
10. 20 oz decaf latte girl doesn't want to date you, either, jackass

Enough hormones to kill a horse

So while I may not technically be pregnant, I still have enough hormones in my body to supply three teenagers... and boys at that. Normally when my hormones spike I get all "don't fuck with me" but now I am "yes, please, fuck me, yes, you, anyone, fuck me."

Ok, maybe not anyone but at this point I think Mr. L is ready for a designated hitter to take over. Apparently yes, you can oversex a 26 year old male, especially if you have sex seven times in three days. The poor man cannot even come so you can imagine how serious the situation is.

I think we're getting to a point where L is afraid to fall asleep for fear of being attacked by the Post-Miscarriage Hormonal Woman from Hell™. I used to tease L that he would midnight stealth me in the middle of the night but oh, how the tables have turned.

Maybe he should start sleeping in one of these...

Cheers

Happy New Year!