The One With All The Cheery-ness…

I am sick of my own gloom and doom lately. So let us coverse about cheery things. Fun things. Happy things. Mmkay?

Numero Uno-
The Aidan begins t-ball practice this week. Squeeeeee! We are doing the Upward program through our church. I am so jazzed. He is ready. He is so excited to be able to finally play baseball. I promise to post a picture of him in his uniform as soon as possible.

I have begun my drawing’s for my garden’s. To scale. Front and back yards. Yes, I am that anal. I love knowing exactly where everything is. I love to be able to refer to my drawing’s at any time. It is a sickness. Get over it. I am having to use my drawing’s because it is too damn cold here to do anything else. Which sucks. I am so ready to get out into my yard. I find gardening incredibly theraputic. Being unable to really do anything is quite frustrating. Sigh.

NASCAR has begun. My boyfriend has done okay. Well, not in California. But his new uniform is pretty hot. He is pretty hot. What was I talking about?!

The Aidan was telling me this morning that he would be going to haunted houses this Halloween. And in these haunted houses there would be “lot’s of boovy traps”. I am still laughing. Boovy traps. Where does the kid get this stuff?

See, I can be cheery. I haven’t forgotten how.

Don’t worry. I am fine. And I will be fine. I’m tough.

Ya gotta be tough when you’re dumb.

Sorry. It is a funny thing one of the men who used to work for my father would say. It has always made me laugh. I though it mught make y’all smile.


The One I Don’t Know How To Write About…

There are some things going on in my personal life that I alluded to once before. Possibly during NaBloPoMo, but I won’t swear to it. The point is that they are back.

I realize I am being all cryptic. I don’t mean to. I just can’t really talk about it. Yet.I am shocked and so incredibly saddened that sometimes I can barely breathe. I am disappointed that I believed this person to have finally changed. To have truly put the past aside and grown up. Instead I find out this person is an abusive asshole. And that this person is pulling the same old shit yet again. But this time with a fun ,new little twist. And I am not really sure what to do.

Part of me wants to just tell this person to fuck off. I don’t need this drama in my life. And an admittedly smaller part wants to try and help. I don’t know if I am strong enough right now, emotionally. I am tired. Plus, with the whole trying to have a baby thing- I just don’t need this kind of negativity. So I don’t know what to do.

I find myself wanting to help the person this affecting more. And that in of itself is a problem. Bah.

And now that I have thoroughly confused everyone, I have to go to work. Bah.

April Fool’s…

So. April 1st I have a doctor’s appointment. With my OB/GYN. To have my IUD removed.

That’s right, Project Pleaseletitbeagirl will be off with a bang. Er, you know what I mean. Dirty girls. I am beyond excited. We can begin discussing babies any time.

And you know that also means baby names. My favorite thing evah. I am almost positive I have found my names. But you never know. I’m leaning towards Delaney for a girl and Liam for a boy. I have given up on Finn. It’s too Dr. Suess-y with Quinn. Feel free to let me know any opinions you all may have.

Let me tell you I am already looking at crib sets, cribs, travel systems,cradle swings, maternity clothes, I am sure you are getting the idea here! I do realize it may take awhile for me to become pregnant, then again maybe not. I have just been wanting to be pregnant again for so long that even the small step of calling my doctor’s office is incredibly thrilling.

I’ve got it bad. Baby Fevah. Sigh.

I will keep y’all informed. Not TMI informed, just generally informed!!

Wish me luck. And send me some positive baby girl vibes.

Mumbo Gumbo…

Yesterday was such an awesome day. Even though my boyfriend did NOT win the Daytona 500. He came in 9th, for those of you who care. I was just excited that Tony Stewart lost in the final lap. Mean, I know. But I despise him with the fire of a thousand suns. We made a ton of snacky-snacks and just pigged out all day.

It was rockin’.

I just got off the phone with my Bubba, he had left a message earlier telling me he had a funny story involving hard boiled eggs. Naturally, I was intrigued. Food stories are always excellent. He tells me that when he got home last night he wanted a little somethin’-somethin’. He settled on egg salad. Simple, quick. It wasn’t until he started it that he realized his propane was off. Landlord issues. Anyhoo. His eggs were also a few days past the sell by date. So he gets the idea to boil them IN.THE.MICROWAVE. FOR TWELVE MINUTES. By this time I am completely hysterical. He is all smug and congratulating himself on his genius when the microwave goes off. He proceeds to remove the eggs from the water and crack on on the yolk side to see if it’s done. He notices it’s a little dark and thinks maybe he didn’t cook the eggs long enough. So he starts to crack it in earnest and the egg explodes. Literally explodes. It was rotten. He has bits of rotten egg and shells everywhere. Including the ceiling. Tears are pouring down my face. I can absolutely picture every single thing he has just described to me. Hysterical.

I bet he won’t be eating egg salad anytime soon!

One more thing. I watched The Food Network last night. Big mistake. It always makes me hungry. It was a recipe contest for chicken. Yum. The winner was a whole roasted chicken with yucca fries. How good does that sound?

My next post will be about Baby Fevah. I got’s it bad.

The One About The Work Drama…

Ye Gods, was there ever drama. We are talking about one crazy bunch o’ bitches. And it wasn’t just me, it was everyone. Even poor P. had a bad day, customer wise.

The week began innocently enough. And then BAM!- straight outta nowhere it went to hell in a handbasket. One of my last buys was a very difficult woman. I work in children’s re-sale, and am in fact the afternoon buyer/supervisor. She was a real piece of work. I would think it would be rather obvious that we would be unable to take clothing with spots/stains/etc. Apparently not. I began giving her back items that we would not be accepting. She became quite pissy. And actually argued with me and made me point out where these “alleged” spots were, and then argued with me that they weren’t even spots. And kept arguing. And arguing. And then came back a few minutes later to argue some more. Then she made sure to tell me that she “would be calling the owners immediately to inform them of the unspeakable way in which she was treated”. I told her to absolutely do so, that I would be calling them myself to let them know what happened. And then I went back to buying my last buy. I will be damned if that bitch did not come back in for a third time to argue with me some more. Seriously. So the lady whose last buy I am doing has been there the entire time, she heard everything that was said. She tells me to write down her name and phone number so I can give it to my boss’, should they need it, because I was not rude to the woman in any way and she would be more than happy to tell them that on my behalf. Twenty minutes later the phone rings, it is the woman’s husband. He wants to inform me that his lawyer will be contacting the store about a lawsuit they will be pursuing against me for “racial discrimination” for the way I treated his wife. I can’t make this stuff up. I told him in no uncertain terms that I did not treat his wife in any disrespectful way and he started yelling at me. So I hung up on him. I have never heard what happened next. I am guessing nothing. My boss’ are pretty laid back. We have all known each other for awhile, and they know I am not that kind of person.

Wait, it gets better. The next day I am at work, doing another buy, and I can’t take any of it. It reeks of smoke. I explain to the woman that I will be happy to take another look at it if she will just wash it and bring it back. She doesn’t seem too upset when she leaves. Twenty minutes later the phone rings. (Anyone seeing any sort of patterns here?!) This lady asks me the name of “the large fat woman who works there”. I am so dumbfounded that someone could actually say something so cruel that it takes me a few minutes to realize she means me. I was blown away. I wanted to cry. I didn’t. But I wanted to. Yes, I have put on some extra pounds in the last few years. Yes, there are valid reasons why I am not really losing weight right now. Is it anyone else’s business(not y’all- y’all can ask me anything. I love you) what my reasons are? No. But I will tell you this. I can and will lose my weight. But you will always be a mean bitch. So there.

Then there was the lady who was pissed off because we couldn’t take all of her stuff. And she wanted it all back. Which we couldn’t do. Her husband had dropped it off on Saturday and didn’t want to wait. So it was done a s a Drop-Off. Meaning he had to pre-approve the offer without knowing what it was. And read the info and INITIAL it. Um, yeah. I don’t think he did that. So she gets all bitchy and basically tells me “well we’ll just see about this”. Twenty minutes later the phone rings. I do not answer it because I have learned my lesson. Wanna guess who it was?! Her husband. And before I tell you what he said, what is it with all these women who have to have their husbands call and complain? If I have a problem with someone I take care of it myself. So he is all up in arms because his precious wifey-poo is upset. One other note- her clothes? Butt-ass ugly. That poor child is gonna be scarred for life. Truly. He informs me that “this is no way to run a business” and if “it was his business he damn sure would make sure that the customer was happy” and that he and his wife “were important people in the community and we would be soory if we didn’t fix this”. Yeah, whatever. I asked him if he signed the paper when he was doing the Drop-Off. He said yes. But he was confused as to what our policy was. Wha? Why would you leave your stuff with a store if you didn’t know how they operated? I wouldn’t. But I guess that would be because I am not a GIANT DUMBASS. I’m still waiting to hear what’s going to happen with that.

The rest of the week has gone quite well. We’ve laughed. We’ve scratched. We’ve cried. Good times. No really, all kidding aside, it was a vast improvement from the last few days. Sweet Jebus. I am glad to be off for the next two days. Crap. One day. But my beloved Daytona 500 is this weekend. GO #88! And speaking of Jr. my hubs gave me my Valentine’s Day present- a new Dale Jr. t-shirt! Can I get a WOOT-WOOT?!?!

No, really. Can I have one?

One more thing- was it worth the wait?


Okay, maybe not quite two weeks. It is a small possibility that it could maybe be a teeny,tiny bit longer until I am back full time. Maybe more like March. Maybe.

I know. I know. It is painful for me too. I miss you all so. I miss being able to get on my computer whenever I want. Sigh.

Be patient with me. I promise the work stories alone will be soooooo worth it. And that will be my very next post. On Thursday. From work. About work.

Eh? Sound good? No? Anyone?