True Story…

I am watching the Olympics. I am also on the internets. It’s called multi-tasking. I am good at it. So I am looking for something and I see a headline about Christina Applegate having cancer. I freak out a little bit because I have always liked her a lot. I go to the site and read the story and heave a big ol’ sigh of relief. You know, us being all BFF-y and such. I then see that Paul Newman may have weeks to live. So I read I that story. Speculation, no confirmation,blah-blah. Then at the bottom is this comment.

“Paul, you are in my prayers. You remind me so much of my uncle and I have always respected you as an actor and a salad dressing.” by an anonymous person on the site.

The first part was just sweet. And then I read the last bit and got hysterical. I can’t stop laughing. I mean really. How inappropriate can you be?

Who the hell comes up with this stuff? Better yet, is this person serious?

That’s all you can think of to say? What a wack-a-doo.


Did You Know?

************ possible TMI alert ************

Hi! Here’s an interesting tidbit I found out on Tuesday morning…

When having your IUD removed it is ADVISED to ABSTAIN FROM THE SEX FOR THE ENTIRE WEEK PRIOR TO SAID REMOVAL. Because with the IUD most women don’t have a period. Or if you’re like me, it’s every six weeks-ish for about an hour. Ovulation who? So on the off chance you are ovulating before the removal, come to Mama!


I’m thinking that might be an important smidge of information that a person’s OB/GYN might need to mention beforehand. So certain people don’t decide to win one for the Gipper, if you catch my drift.


I could very well already BE pregnant. I’m just waiting for my husband to confirm or the arrival of good ol’ Aunt Flo. Either way it’s gonna be one hell of a couple weeks!

**** edited to add ****
Flo has arrived, thankyouverymuch. I would have been excited to have already been pregnant, but it would have sucked some of the fun right on out of it. You know?


So. I may and or may not, have broken my right pinky toe. I am fairly certain it cannot be a good sign when said pinky toe is angled out like it’s at three’o’clock on my own personal foot timepiece. And it’s black and swollen up like a fat,purple grape.

This is my own opinion. I am not a doctor. Nor do I intend to pay a fourty dollar co-pay for one to tell me it is broken and I am shit outta luck. Because as you know, you can’t do jack to fix a *possibly* broken pinky toe. Except maybe have a big,fat glass of vino after having worked on it all day. Jeebus.

So that is where I am now. It sucks. Thank God I can wear flip-flops. I don’t think I could get my poor toe into a real shoe.

At least not without a helluva lot more vino!!

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?

I Got Nothin’…

My husband informs me last night that I needed to get my “blogging” out of the way today before the kids went to bed because he has to use the computer.

Mmkay. No pressure for a topic. Nah, no pressure at all.


It’s okay. In retaliation I did NOT do the dishes. That’ll show him. Tell me I need to be done before he gets home. Obviously he has never tried to write anything while the beasts were up. It is damn near impossible. Plus, I have the added insult of having been woken up AT SIX AM to drive him to work. Because it looks like our second car has given up the old ghost. That’s like a little piece of heaven right there. It means I have to do that FIVE DAYS A WEEK. FIVE. AT SIX AM.

Is it obvious to anyone else what side of the bed I got out of today?!

I’m pretty sure Hell has frozen over…

My brother sent me a message today.

The one I haven’t spoken to in almost a year.

He basically said he had to take some time off, to get his act together. He is dating a new girl. And he was hearing things from our friends about me. Wha?

First, I don’t have the time, nor the inclination to go out to bars and party. I am a grown-up. I have two small children. The last time I went anywhere was two months ago? three months ago? I honestly don’t remember. So for any of his friends to say shit about me really pisses me off. Because these same people? Who I have run into around town? Are busy talking smack about him. Good friends, wouldn’t you say?

He was always rather easily led by his group of friends. Me? Not so much. I could give a flying fig what people think of me. Either you like me, or you don’t. I am not going to waste my time worrying either way. But that’s me. It still irks me that that could be part of the reason he wasn’t speaking to me. I am going to try and let it go. But it is going to be hard. He has done this before. And then something set him off and I wouldn’t hear from him for x amount of time.

He says he has changed. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Blast from the past…

I am sitting at home, minding my own beeswax, when all of this sudden my cell phone rings. Lo, and behold, it is my friend S.

He is in town and wants to hang out. I tell him that I can’t, because Jimmy isn’t home and I have the kids.

So, we start chatting about every day life and he asks the fucking million-dollar question. Hey, how’s your brother? I have to tell him the whole crappy story. Plus, as a bonus? I get to tell him that my grandma died last year, right before Christmas. Having spent time with her, he was upset. So as you can guess it went downhill from there.

Again, I have NO idea why my bubba is no longer speaking to me. To us. I just wish he would tell his friends what the fook is going on. The holiday season is coming up. I have MORE than enough on my plate right now, without having to worry about what is going on with him.

Is that too much to ask?