Thursday, December 6, 2012

Insignificant yet life altering traumas: Life Lessons

Once again I have been traumatized, this time a good lesson came along with it. For the last eleven days or so I have been suffering from this stupid, itchy rash. I'm not sure where it came from but if I had to guess, it came from Satan's womb. This rash has been so bad, I left work early on Monday; I couldn't get into my regular doctor so I went to urgent care out at the hospital. While I was waiting to get in, I overheard an older gentleman, I use the term gentleman very loosely here, talking to his daughter who had brought him, about a similar rash. I commented "Oh that's weird. That's why I'm here." Being a classic hypochondriac, my first thought was we are obviously Patients 0 and 01 of the impending zombie apocalypse. Which would be cool, I guess, zombie outbreak virus is better than the rest of the crap I had self diagnosed myself with the days prior to my doctor visit. According to my research I had MRSA, fleas, scabies, mites, eczema, chronic dry skin, scarlet fever, heat rash, cold rash, stress rash and I was also being poisoned. So I finally get called back, the nurse wants to check my height (ok) and weight (I'LL MURDER YOU ALLLLLL). Yup, still tall and fat, just like last time. We go in the little room and I'm telling the nurse what I was there for, since I am practically a doctor myself, I bypass her questions with a summary of my own observations. "I have a rash, its been 11 days, it's really itchy, started on my stomach, has spread to back, then legs, then arms. It looks like this, I haven't made an environmental or dietary changes. Blah, blah, blahhhh" Ok pay attention, this next part is important to this story.

**FLASHBACK to earlier that day. I am minding my own business in the bathroom at work, doing what everyone does in the bathroom, hiding and checking my facebook. So I decide that I do actually have to pee, which I do. Then I notice something strange, so I check again, "What the f---?!" I finish my bathroom business and go back to work, a little concerned and confused. About an hour and a half later, I go to the bathroom again. Pee again, notice something is again, not right. So I check again, 'What the hell is going on down there?" Go back to work. Soon the itchy around my belt line, waist, whatever you call it, became unbearable and at about 1:30 I asked if I could go home, call the doctor, take a Benedryl, lay around naked, hopefully go see the doctor and come back to work my 5:30 - 8:00 half of the day. That was fine, so I head home. I get there and eat something and lay around pant less while I wait for urgent care to open at 3:00. Rob comes home from work and I tell him whats going on including the 'bad thing' that I discovered while at work. "That pretty much means I'm dying right?!" Rob says "Well it's not good.." 'I know, I have had a terrible day.."****

So cut back to the appointment. With the rash part explained to the nurse, I start my next sentence with.."There was something else I wanted to ask about. I was in the bathroom earlier today.......and when I wiped......did it again....back to the bathroom....got home.....bathroom...water in the toilet...REALLY RED.....doesn't hurt....that's not normal right?!....embarrassing...seriously wrong otherwise I wouldn't mention...my mom is a nurse.....is this death?!"

Eventually the doctor makes her way in. She determines the rash is probably an allergic reaction to something, I concur. She prescribes some pills for the itching and she tells me 'if it doesn't get better in 10 days, call your doctor....' Uhhhhh...riiight. I thought that's why I was here?
Anyways I bring up the 'bad thing'. "So I was in the bathroom earlier.....that's not my vagina....pregnancy test....shit, that's not my vagina!....bathroom again...home...called my mom, she's a nurse....I didn't eat any beets! Who eats beets?!...seriously wrong, otherwise I would NOT ask you...zombie apocalypse?....Am I dying?"
She is not at all concerned. She replies "If it doesn't go away, call your doctor..."

I'm AT a HOSPITAL. Like I walked passed an AMBULANCE on my way in here. If I could have gone to my regular doctor, I would have! But I couldn't get in, so I came here...FIX ME! So I was sent away, I went to the pharmacy of my choice, Target and waited for my itchy pills. The pharm tech asked for my name, grabbed my bag and said "Two?" "I dunno" I said peeking into the bag, I could see a pill bottle and something that looked like ointment "Sure?"  "Hydro-something and hydoro-something? For itch?" she asks "Yeah..for itch." I retort as I'm gnawing off my arm. Sweet, I thought to myself, did she give me medicated lotion too? Hit the road, itchy skin!

"Have you taken both of these before?" she asks.
"No, neither of them" as I scratch the skin off my face
"Ok, I'll have you talk to the pharmacist before you leave."
"KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK" I'm literally about to rip my shirt off I'm so itchy.
So the pharmacist comes over looks at the pills and tells me "Take one of these three times a day for the itch. Do not take Benedryl with it."
Then she pulls out the little things of lotion. "Keep these at room temperature. and.."
*Me rolling my eyes...yeah yeah lady I know how lotion works. I'm not a complete idiot. Why is this chick whispering??*
"if you have some trouble, just put a little KY on them and they'll side right up...."
"Wha huh? Come again?!"
Pharmacist pulls out her bullhorn " AHEM. ATTENTION CUSTOMERS. IF YOU HAVE TROUBLE PUTTING THESE IN YOUR BUTTHOLE, (she might have said rectum, I was too busy dying of embarrassment) PUT A LITTLE KY ON IT AND IT WILL SLIDE RIGHT IN!"
I run to the car as quick as I can, call Rob to tell him we can never shop at Target again and he dies laughing.

The moral of the story is: If you are going to be a hypochondriac, do so wisely. Because someday a doctor might write you a prescription for anal suppositories. I'm pretty sure that the issue I was having definitely did NOT require this degree of medicinal treatment and she only did it to prove a point, that I was an idiot. I mean I never even took my pants off! How could she even know what did or did not need to be up in there? Well at least that $5.00 went to good use, someone is getting a hell of a stocking stuffer this year...

The END!
(  !  )
Har har har

Friday, November 30, 2012

True Love and Crime Fighting

Rob and I will be together forever.

You're thinking "How can you say that? Forever is a really long time! How do you know?" Well I'm sure at some point we will begin to hate each other but even then I'm fairly confident we will stay together as long as we both shall live. Why? Because the some of the things we've done around each other CAN NEVER BE KNOWN. Seriously. If shit gets bad enough that we are considering a divorce, it's going to be like Mr. & Mrs. Smith at our house. Remember that movie? Only we would be fatter, not as beautiful versions of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Except only one of us would make it out alive.
When you are in a relationship, things will happen that you'll take to the grave. I tell my best friend a lot, then when I get drunk I tell everyone else in the bar even more. But even in a drunken pirate stupor, there are things I will never, NEVER say. I'm also not telling you, Nosey Nancy, but here are some guidelines for the beginner on things never to talk about:

1. Anytime anything has had to be squeezed, popped or prodded by your partner, on any part of your body which requires you to use a mirror to see. And no one has to know you requested the mirror to see how your significant other is handling things. Not even if you are married to a doctor, no one needs to know that shit.

2. Anything embarrassing that may happen between the sheets. Not only while being intimate, but anytime you are in bed. Sometimes you can't help what your body does in a relaxed state.

3. Anything that required the disposal of any article of clothing due to an embarrassing mishap.

4. Anytime one of you gets stuck in a garment of any kind, with the exception that the garment is 4 or more sizes too small and you knew it wasn't going to fit before you tried it on. Then tell everyone, that's really funny.

5. If either of you ever dropped your child or anyone elses child.

6. That really bad fight you had. Especially when it was over the last Little Debbie.

7. Referencing back to number 2: Anything you may have tried in order to spice up your love life in which you failed horribly.

8. Your love life in general, really. When you talk about it with others you're either going to creep them out or turn them on, which is creepy in itself. Just don't do it.

9. The massive amount of food you ate together, then went to get ice cream.

10. Toilet clogs.

I'm sure there are many more but those are the ten I could think of without making my brain hurt.

Besides keeping secrets, another important trait in a spouse or significant other is respect. I feel like Rob respects me and therefore trusts in most of the decisions I make in life. He isn't at all controlling, actually he kind of just lets me run around and do whatever I feel like doing, and usually backs me up. Now that I think about it he either really, really loves me a lot or not at all. I'm going with love.

For example, today I was driving to my mom's, talking to my sister on the phone. She had just pulled up to her apartment building and noticed some weirdo pulling bags of garbage out of the dumpster and putting them in his truck. I just happen to be about a half a block from her apartment, so naturally I do the completely sane thing, slam on the gas and attempt to catch this could be identity/banana peel thief down myself. Well I couldn't find him so I call Lacey back, quickly interrogated her for information and drive to my mom's. The minutes passed as I waited for my slow ass mother to get in the car, I tried to motivate her by screaming out of the car window and honking the horn wildly but it was soon evident I would not be able to track him down. So I reluctantly called the police with my full report and decided they could deal with it. Finally my mom got the hint and got in the car, I filled her in on my failed mission and chewed her out for making me loose the perp. Just then, my mom yells "RED TRUCK! WITH A TOPPER!" which was the exact vehicle Lacey had described to me. He went back to the scene of the crime and was once again leaving the parking lot. So we squealed out of my mom's side yard we use as a second driveway (yes, yes we are very classy) and took off after him. Luckily for him two vehicles came between us and for the first time in history we had to wait for about a million cars to pass before we could go. Not knowing which way to turn, we surveillanced the area and determined he must have taken a right, we headed west. I looked down the streets on my side, madre looked down the streets on her side. By the tome we came to the four way stop, he was long gone. "He isn't down this way! Go left! GO LEFT!" she shouted, but my gut told me otherwise "NO! We go straight!" I forcefully replied. As I flew down the residential street going 624 mph I caught of glimpse of red. "Gotcha!" As we sped on, another stop sign. As I went to California roll it, my mom was busy yelling 'THERE HS GOES! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" "STOP SIGN!!" I yelled back "DON'T STOP! YOU DON'T STOP WHEN YOU'RE CHASING!" He busted a right, I flew up behind the dumb white SUV in between us and proceeded to also bust a right. Suddenly we see the truck pull into a driveway a couple houses down. "There he is! There he is!" I say while my mom is yelling "PULL OVER!" Then we argue about pulling over, so I pull over. Now this is one part of my crime fighting I need to work on because I have pulled entirely to close to the guy, my mom and I are yelling at each other, she wants to get out of the car and go up to him and I think we should just watch him for a minute. My mom flings her door open and gets out, I'm screaming 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!" She does this weird two step turning thing like she can't decide which direction to go, gets back in the car, we look over and the guy is just staring at us. We are not sneaky. So then I go into Academy Award mode, open my door while at the same time hitting my truck button, get out, walk to the trunk, lift, close and channeling Shakespearean Theatre shout "Damn trunk!" while shaking my fist at the heavens. I jump back in the car and we fly off down the hill. Then I called the police back, told them I found the guy and where to find them, I'm sure she was writing down every crazy word of it. Then we waited at the bottom of the hill for awhile, argued about my mom wanted to go look in the back of his truck and finally drove towards my house.
On the way home I called Rob and told him the whole story. I told him I reported the guy for suspicious behavior and that since our stakeout went horribly wrong, he might also get a call about two females in a car with our license plate acting suspiciously as well. He replied "I'll just tell them, 'Yep, that's my wife!" I bragged about my sweet vigilante justice skills and he told me he didn't think vigilante is actually a good thing and I said at least I'm not a terrorist.

Moral of the story is, once you find that special someone who puts up with your questionable life choices, someone who doesn't judge you for having seconds and still having room for ice cream, someone who is willing to claim you when the police call, hold on to them.

Until next time.

Monday, November 26, 2012

My House is a Hot Mess. And by "my house", I mean me.

My house is a disasquatch. That means it's a disaster of Sasquatch proportion. Which sucks because I printed and laminated myself some sweet daily chore lists because I'm about as responsible and trustworthy as a 10 year old when it comes to getting anything done around the house. (If anyone asked, I did NOT do this at work, I have my own giant expensive laminator at home) Well that was like 3 weeks ago  months ago now and they are still sitting on the kitchen counter...somewhere.
I don't understand how some people can keep their house so nice and neat, seriously where do they keep all their stuff? The only explanation I have is they must have a second house somewhere that looks like hell. I have so much crap, so so so much crap but I can't bring myself to throw it away. Because it's not really crap, I just call everything crap. It can be something really nice but I call it crap, it's my overall definition for anything in the world that isn't living. Mostly my crap consists of books I'll never read, pictures I'll never hang and lots and lots of things people have given me over the years that I don't need or want but can't get rid of.
For instance, last week my mission was to make Magnus the warrior bunny a better litter box, one that he can't kick poop and litter everywhere. Basically, it's like a cat litter box with some kind of grating inside of it, 2-3 inches off the bottom, yada yada yada, look it up if you want to know more. Regardless it looks like a better litter box than I have now, plus higher sides=less poop grenades. Well they were all out of cat litter boxes at the walmarts so I got like a plastic thing out of the dish washing area but couldn't find anything for the wire grating. I checked two of the dollar stores on my way home, everything was either too sharp or the spaces too wide and Mags' foot would get caught. Then after work the following day, I went and walked around Target, found nothing. Are you asking yourself what the hell this has to do with the first paragraph? Well here is the thing, I have exactly what I need sitting in my garage, it's one of those shitty wire rabbit cages you see on farms oe 4H shows. My mom saw our old neighbors putting it out on the curb for junk days, (Pre-Magnus) knew I had been talking about getting a bunny and grabbed it for me. I was like YES! but then I read about how bunnies get really bad sores on their feet, sore hocks, from those types of cages so I never used it. So why don't I just cut off a piece and use it? Because I am irrational. Here is the actual conversation I had with myself on the way home from Target tonight.

Brain:Why don't you just use a piece of the cage in the garage?
Irrational Self: Because I might need that someday
Brain: When are you ever going to use it? You were going to throw it out the other day!
I.S.: Yeah but I didn't because I might need it someday.
Brain: For what?!
I.S.: Well, if I find a critter I need to help!
Brain: You can use Mags's to-go carrier
I.S.: What if I find two critters?!
Brain: Use the other cage in the basement
I.S.: BUT what if  I find THREE critters!
BRAIN: STOP FINDING CRITTERS FOR CHRISTS SAKE. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?

It was a really awkward drive the rest of the way home.


Whenever I try to clean, it's an emotional rollercoaster.

At first, I'm happy and excited and usually hopped up on coffee and diet pills. (Happy!)

Soon I start finding things I want to get rid of but then I think about who gave me that piece of crap and then I start thinking, that person who gave me that piece of crap is going to die someday! And I'll never see them again. (Sad)

Oh my god, I'm going to die someday! Has my life been all that I want it to be? There are so many things I never got to do! I can't die! Who will take care of Rob, Rolo, Bella and Maggie? (Depressed)

SHIT! THEY'RE GONNA DIE TOO?! WHAT THE BLEEEEPPPPP!!! (Super depressed)

Crying, crying, crying *Call Me Maybe comes on* ....this song is...... AWESSOOMMMEEE!! *Dance moves, dance moves* Welp I'm feeling better (Happy again)

I'm going to make a cleaning playlist!! (Super Pumped)

*Two hours later*
I'm gonna blog about dumb shit! ( YAY! Mode)

*Five hours later*
oh my god. this place is a mess. I got nothing freaking done today! I'm SO PISSED! (Anger and self hatred)

I have noticed the one thing that will get me to clean, is when my mom stops by and tries to help. Not because I have the extra help but because I get so terrifustrated, terrified/frustrated, when she starts to clean. Nothing gets put away in the right spot, the dish-a-washer gets overfilled and things that should NOT be in the dishwasher (like the Chicago Cutlery) and my mother has this weird condition were she feels the overwhelming need to move things around the house. Oh no, not just like my silverware, cups or crap like that, one day she actual rearranged my entire living room, within like 4 minutes. I seriously went in the other room to put something away, came out and everything was different. Which was super annoying because I had JUST rearranged everything the day before, according the the diagram I had been drawing out for two weeks.

I'm also a procrastinator, as a matter of fact I started writing this post literally 2+ months ago and am just FINALLY posting it!

Bye!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Another Cat Tale


This is actually a really, really sad story but it is also really weird so I am going to share it with you.

As you know from my very first post about how rabbits are assholes, I am a cat lover at heart and have been since I was a little seahorse of an embryo.While Brody, the orange Persian was like a child to me, I had another cat who was with me for over 16 years. His name was Peaches and yes Peaches was a boy but I was young and wanted to name him Peaches. So little Peach Pit was the son of Nala, a cream colored kitten I received from the neighbors that lived a couple miles down the road from us. Peaches was the best cat in the entire world. When we moved into my great grandmother's house, she had a black and white female cat named Tammy, Peaches and Tammy did not get along, at all. My great grandmother, God rest her soul, called Peaches King Kong and blamed him for the constant cat fights that occurred in the house even though everyone knows it was Tammy always starting shit....just saying. Anyways years came and went, eventually we brought in other cats, Smudge a big gray Persian with gold eyes who sadly we had to put down when his kidneys failed. Soprano, a chinchilla Persian, was stolen from our yard when he got out one day. Brody who was murdered by the bastard plumber who ran him down in cold blood, devastating and completely ruining my life. Through all the good and bad I always had a constant, Peaches. He could tell when you were having a bad day and would come comfort you,  playful even in his old age and loved to cuddle. We noticed slight changes in his appearance, he wasn't as filled out as he once was, his fur wasn't as fluffy but his personality never changed. After my sister and I moved out and my mom was by herself our multiple cat home turned into a one cat home, just Peaches and my mom. Then one day in 2010  I went to visit my mom when I saw Peaches laying under a bush, I said hi to him and headed inside where I saw Peaches sitting on the couch so I said hi to him and walked into the kitchen. Then I stopped, walked backwards into the living room and looked at Peaches, walked back outside, looked at impostor Peaches and yelled "WHO THE F--- ARE YOU!?!"
I asked my mom what was going on and she said that one day this other cat just started coming to her house and pretty soon he just started walking in the house. You may be wondering how someone could mistake their cat of 16 years for another cat but until you got close up, it was near impossible to tell the difference between them. It was uncanny. So since Peaches didn't seem to mind this new freak cat hanging around, my mom decided to keep him.

Ellie was always hanging out at my mom's house so she got to name him, she decided to call him "Bambi".

Peaches, the Orignal Gangsta



Bambi, the impostor

See! Freaky weird huh? Yes, it is. Ok so Bambi starts hanging around outside the house and eventually comes inside and takes over. If anyone has had multiple pets of the same species in one home and you feed them (like you should you terrible, terrible pet owner) you will notice a pecking order. Peaches has always been the first to eat and the other cats would fall into place, it's actually a very interesting dynamic to witness in domestic pets. So a few months after Bambi came, we noticed out of the blue the pecking order between the two cats changed. Peaches backed off and let Bambi start eating first. I thought it was weird but maybe because Bambi was so much bigger he bullied his way to the top spot. Everything was fine for a couple months or so, until one day my mom called and said Peaches was sick, I'm not going to go into details because it's TOO SAD. :'( So sad story, short we took Peaches to the vet and he had to be put to sleep..........It was extremely sad and I puked in the vet's parking lot. 

Continuing on. I always felt Peaches knew that he was long for this world, so when his perfect replacement came along he knew he could  give up the reins to Bambi. Even though Bambi was kind of an asshole.

Why oh WHY did I tell you this sad story? Because I posted this picture on Facebook a long time ago, it recently was rediscovered and commented on by some people and I felt like there was a long back story that needed to be told.


Yes that is really Bambi, no it is not photo shopped, no camera tricks. Bambi is ginormous. I am holding him like this:


(I found this picture on the Internet)

Cat show pose! I saw this one time on TV a long time ago and ever since then I would randomly yell "CAT SHOW!!", grab the nearest feline and do this cat show pose. So that's how I am holding him in that picture.
Anyways, Bambi took over Peaches spot. Then a few months after Peaches died, Bambi was murdered by my mom's stupid, bastard dog that she commandeered from her ex-boyfriend. He also tried to attack Ellie and the 2 year old twins (my brothers kids), that dog was an asshole.

So that entire story was devastating. But the one part was really weird.

Until we meet again! Bye.


Sunday, November 11, 2012

Post Electolyptic Post

As none of you may know, my husband and  I have some differing opinions when it comes to politics, his are researched and well founded while mine are usually based on TV sitcoms, things I think I've heard and full blown lies I make up as I go, as most of my opinions are. We also vote for different parties. We don't usually talk about politics because he always get mad at me, the conversations start out intriguing but because I don't know squat about government it always, ALWAYS ends in me making up "facts' and pretty soon I'm yelling "Mitt Romney personally called me and told me he is coming to cut out my uterus because I'm really a gay man and he doesn't want to give me my food stamps!!" Rob then tells that I'm ignorant and gets pissed.
I'm not ignorant, I'm just annoyed. Some people gets so worked up about politics, to those people I just want to say take a look at your own life. I don't know about you guys but I have enough crap to deal with, life is hard enough as it is without being pissed off at some government figure everyday of your life. Or just the government in general.
I speak from experience, let me elaborate. In eighth grade we got a computer, along with this computer we also got the internet or as I call it the "intskernets", that's not a clever code or anything I just talk that way. My mother had a friend who would come over and use our intskernets and soon I was privy to the underground world that is government conspiracy theories. I learned all sorts of amazing things that when brought up in conversation with my 8th grade friends.....ok friend (singular), made me seem NOT SUPER F-ING WEIRD AT ALL. If you want to ensure your kid has no friends going into high school, get them googling chemtrails and FEMA camps. Yeeeahh!! That's the shit right there! I remember sitting in choir one day, talking to my friend Lynsey about how the government is constantly watching us with satellites and super mics and if I said anything about a plot against the president or something, agents would be busting down the doors in minutes. Sounds pretty legit right? Soon my government conspiracy stage passed and I went back to being just the regular everyday weirdo I am. Sure I still get a little caught up when The Discovery Channel airs the occasionally Area 51 program but for the most part I'm over. Besides, if the government did decide to round me up and throw me in a FEMA camp, I already know how that would play out...Like this:

4:00 a.m. - CIA operatives bust through the door and head to my bedroom. Four of them immediately trip over all the crap on the floor, break their necks in the fall, die.
4:05 a.m. - Second string of CIA ops bust through the windows, manage to get me into custody, as they are verifying it's me, they are blinded by both the flashlight reflecting off my baby powder white skin and my early morning Medusa-like appearance. I then open my mouth and the poisonous gas that is my morning breath fills their lungs and they die.
5:10 a.m. - After many casualties lost by way of death farts, ravenous rabbits and a rare form of lung fungus. The CIA decide to rethink their strategy, they successfully lure me into their van using bacon. They do not give me any of the bacon. Bastards.
9:10 a.m. - *During transport* CIA refuses to feed me hoping to wear me down. Their plan backfires, my hanger (hungry anger) transforms me into a raging she-hulk. I tear everyone in the van limb from limb, the van is mine!
9:45 a.m. - I'm found parked outside IHOP, in a pancake coma. Recaptured.
10:30 a.m. - Taken to FEMA camp outside Kansas City. Checked in, orientation film
12:30 p.m. - Smell BBQ ribs, bust through electric and razor wire fences
1:05 p.m. - Found on sidewalk, in BBQ rib coma. Taken back to camp.
1:20 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. - Alternating 15 minute spontaneous song & dance spurts and 15 minute hysterical emotional breakdowns
10:15 p.m.- Thrown out of moving van, onto my front yard. CIA decides I'm not worth the trouble. Walk inside, sit on couch, watch tv.

See! No biggie! Like everything in life, just because even if someone has a plan, like putting everyone in a FEMA work camp, doesn't mean it will ever work. The biggest variable in any equation is people, they are completely unpredictable, you can't plan them. I don't really know how to end this post and I'm sick of typing sooooooo..

love you, bye.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Kitten Tales

So as many of you know, unless you aren't my FB friend or have me blocked, on October 1st I became aware of a tiny, little kitten which showed up in my neighborhood.


 
Soon I became obsessed. When ever I was home I would just sit and stare out our living room window, hoping to catch a glimpse of this little wonder.
 
 
As the weather grew colder, I started to worry for the kitten's health and safety. I set up a watch post next to my window, strategically placed cat food at the perfect angle so I could see the kitten but it was still in the bushes a little, out of the view of any predators (other than myself). I had a pretty good plan, when I saw the kitten approaching I would throw the dogs in the bedroom, so they couldn't bark and scare it away, run out the back door, sneak up the side of the house (keeping a careful eye for crunchy leaves) and wait for my chance. It didn't work. The kitten had wandered to the other side of the house, so then I just kept going out to check. Though I was incredibly quiet, I was wearing my sweet moccasins, I soon realized my neighbor from across the street and one house down was out walking his dog. I noticed him watching me and very possibly calling the police. I probably shouldn't have worn the face mask stocking cap and all black outfit BUT I WAS BEING SNEAKY. I was also unsuccessful.
 
 
And build a shanty I did! It was a sweet little get-up, a cooler on its side in the bushes, threw a old  towel in there and used the lid of the cooler to make a roof. Suitable protection from the elements for a tiny, wittle kitty witty. Unfortunately, the kitten didn't use the shelter that night, or the night after, or the night after. So then on October 12, I decided I would attempt to trap the kitten. If my trapping was a success, I planned on taking the kitten to the shelter or finding it a home. My sister, L-bot, happened to have a small live animal trap she used to used to trap ground squirrels that would get in the basement of her old apartment. Yes, ground squirrels broke into her apartment enough times that she was forced to buy a trap. Anyways, I go get the trap, get some more canned cat food from the store, SET IT AND FORGET IT!! Remember that info-mercial?? haha. But really I set the trap and put it on the front porch with a towel over it, it was raining. Really early that morning we got a bad storm, it woke me up at like 6:30, Rob was already up getting ready to go to work. I was also watching Ellie so I got up and moved her in with me so in case the storm woke her up, she wouldn't be so scared. Then I was all "The Kitten Trap!" I go look in the trap and I CAPTURED IT! HUZZAH!
So I bring it inside and head downstairs to transfer it from the little trap to Mag's luxury transport, aka a medium dog pet taxi I got at the flea market for $15. The kitten was clearly a little shook up from all the commotion, a tiny bit irritated. I may have accidently slammed the trap into a door jam while trying to carry all the shit downstairs but I'm pretty sure the kitten was already angry before that happened. So I'm trying to get the kitten out of the trap and into the carrier when something goes horribly wrong and the kitten flings itself out of the trap and runs across the room. So I get it cornered and calmly try to talk it into getting in the carrier. It does not feel like getting in the crate but it did feel like hissing, spitting and scratching me. So now I'm wondering if maybe this isn't the greatest idea, what if this thing has rabies, maybe its too feral and I shouldn't have intervened. About this time I hear Ellie asking in her tired, little voice "Did we catch the kitten?" So I tell her yes but stay on the stairs because it escaped and it's a little cray cray. I get it cornered again and I get close enough to put a towel over it and grab it. So I'm fat girl hustlin' back to the center of the room to the carrier when the dirty little bastard goes spastic, scratches the shit out of my hands and bites through my finger, including the nail. So I'm screaming, not a high pitch squeal, its like a full baritone "AUUUGGHHHHHHHHHH!!" That is the point that I realize ok yes this was a terrible mistake, this thing is clearly Satan incarnate and I definitely now have frucking rabies.
Kitten, now know as Devil Kitty Bite Bite gets thrown..dropped...placed carefully back on the floor. And the thing vanishes, GONE. Black magic shit. At this point I am bleeding EVERYWHERE, yet staying incredibly calm. Not really, I'm actually yelling up the stairs at Ellie to have Rob give her the cat food out of the fridge, neither of them are communicating well with each other so I scream "%&$# IT. I'LL GET THE %&$#ING CAT FOOD MY-%&$#ING SELF." To which Rob replies WHAT THE %&$# IS GOING ON?! so I tell him, 'THE GOD DAMN DEVIL KITTEN GOT %&$#ING LOOSE OK?!?!. More swearing, Ellie yelling at us for swearing and fighting, Rob leaving, slamming the door on the way out. Mind you this is all happening shortly after 7:00 a.m.
 
So I spend like 15 minutes looking EVERYWHERE for this kitten, on my hands and knees, can not find it. So as a last resort I have Ellie get Bella for me. Both Bella and Rolo are rat terriers and even though they sit around watching TV all day, they are great at the job they were bred for (except for killing rabbits, Magnus put the fear of bun in them soon after he came to live here). Bella is my tracker and Rolo is my killer, these two have gone straight Ghost Face Killa' on some moles in the backyard. So we get Bella downstairs and in 30 seconds she finds little Diablo el Gato hiding on a shelf, tucked between a box and a TV. Kitten takes off again, corner it, this time the stupid thing runs right into the pet taxi. YES!
 
Ellie and I take turns calling it Satan and decide it is way, way too feral to take to the shelter and I am way too angry to deal with it. So after all that, we take it back outside and let little Charles Manson Dahlmer go. Looking back I feel like I probably should have let it calm down for a couple hours but I was seriously so pissed my mind was unable to think rationally and I just wanted the damn thing out of my house. We have already established I am a terrible person, so whatever. We did take the following pictures before we released it:
 
 
 
(Devil)

(Kitty)
 
AWWWWW IT'S SO CUTE! YET SO MURDEROUS!! (Bite Bite)
 
 
 
So Ellie watched from the safety of inside the entryway as I opened Pandora's Box and let the plague of Devil Kitty Bite Bite back into the world. I then went inside to cuddle with Magnus and tell him that he was a good bun-bun and not an asshole, not even a little bit. Compared to that kitten he was like an fluffy, orange dream. Then he bit me, I dropped him back into his cage, called him an asshole and stomped off. Then Ellie and I went back to sleep.
 
The End....
 
 
NOPE. NOT THE END! Little did I know this was only intermission.
 
About 7 hours later.
Ok if you were pissed about me letting the kitten go instead of exorcising it..you are not going to want to read this next part...
 
Rob hears Bella barking in the backyard, which is not unusual being that Bella is a loud mouth and loves to sit and bark at the back fence. He opens the back door and tells her to get inside and as usual she doesn't listen, so he walks out to get her and starts yelling at me that the stupid kitten is out there. I'm like "AHHHH IT'S THE DEVIL! KEEP IT AWAY FROM BELLA!"
I run out there and it is just crouched in the grass hissing and clawing at everyone. So we scare Bella off to the front part of the yard and wait to see if the kitten will take off running but it doesn't. It tried, but its back half just drug behind it. We are like F*&%! Bella just attacked this damn kitten. So Rob starts freaking out, I don't really say anything because I feel like shit for A. Calling the kitten Satan multiple times, and B. Letting it go in the first place. So I just go inside to get a towel and the carrier but I think Rob thought I was just going to leave it because when I came back out he was like " You can't just leave it there!!" He is very sensitive to creatures in need. I just keep telling him to go check Bella and make sure she's not all beat up, in case we need to call the vet or something. I call around and get ahold of animal control. I tell them I have a feral kitten that may have been bitten by a dog, I failed to say my dog because I was scared for some reason, so they say they will come by and get it. We are waiting and waiting, for almost an hour, both of us feeling terrible because Bella tried to murder a baby kitten, even if it was the most evil kitten in all the land. We just couldn't figure out why she bit the thing, just in the last year we have had two, TWO bunnies get stuck in our fence and both times Bella has been the one to find them and both times she just sat next to them, barking, until we came out to save them. That kitten was little but very vicious and I didn't think Bella was dumb enough to get right in the line of fire. So animal control gets to my house and the conversation went like this:
Me: "Hello. Here is the kitten."
Her: "What happened?"
Me:*thinking* Uhh Uhh f-balls.. "It's hurt(???)"
Her: "Let's take a look"
Me: "Ok. Be careful, it's very feral"
She's talking to the kitten and gets ahold of it.
Her: "Yep. Dog got it, that's for sure. You know of any dogs around here?"
Me:*Thinking* uhh uhh(as my two dogs are literally in the window directly behind me barking like assholes) shit* "Umm well I have two but they have been inside all day" (Lie)
She looks over my shoulder and says "Those two?! No, this was a big dog that got it, a biiigg dog!"
Me: **HALLALLUUJAAHHH!!** Oh, well there is a couple big dogs around here.
Her: "Well we will call the Doc and see what we can do for this little guy."
Me: "Ok. Thanks. Bye"
 
So  I run inside and tell Rob that Bella is not a murderer and we apologize to her and tell her she is a good dog. Obviously if it was B. she probably would have gotten at least a little scratched up from Kung-Fu Kitty.
 
So the moral of the story is:
 You can't help something that doesn't want your help but if you let it go, it will be bitten by a dog, come back so you feel like a piece of shit for letting it go in the first place, frame your innocent dog, who was only trying to help, for murder and possible die.
 
Sad story bro :(

Sunday, October 28, 2012

40 hours

So this week I am officially moving from part time to full time at my workies. YAY! Obviously I am super excited to be a full time employee because of all the perks I will get but I have to admit there are a couple things I will miss about being part time. So I decided to make a pros and cons list to share with you, the world (all 30 of you who read this) my dilemma. Here we go!




1. Mo' money, mo' problems- At least this is what I am told. I don't know what kind of truth is behind this but I will keep everyone updated.

2. Health Insurance. YAY! I am already covered on the husband's plan but mine will be better and I don't have to pay a dime for it. Plus once I am off Rob's plan his payment will go down. TRIPLE SCORE!

3. Pants and working 8-hour Mondays and Tuesdays. These two kinda go together. This is why.
I have 4-5 pairs of work pants I wear to work each week and then my jeans on Fridays or Saturdays. My pants have time limits on them. Two pairs of them I can handle wearing for 8+ hours, others max out at about 5 hours. As a part time worker, I would usually work Monday night for 3 hours and Tuesday night for 4 hours. So on those days I wear my 5-hr pants and believe me when I get home those suckers come off immediately. Once I start working 8 hours on these days I'm going to run into a bit of a wardrobe predicament. Well here, let's break this down, math word problem style:

Rachel works 5 days a week, 8 hours a day. She only has two pairs of 8-hr pants. Rachel only does laundry once a week, on Sunday and is unwilling to change that.
 How many days will Rachel work before she ends up taking off her pants at work?
 
Answer: Not enough
 
The other con about working on Monday and Tuesday is those are the days I usually lay around the house and watch my shows. Right now I am obsessed with Heroes. But I guess since I won't be sitting around eating all day, per usual, I will lose about 600 pounds. So I guess that's alright.

4.I'll only have to work one night a week, Monday night which is a plus. Not only will I get to sleep in on Monday morning since I won't have to be at work until 11 but I won't have to work on Tuesday nights anymore which is great.

5. I will be working more and spending more "quality" time with my co-workers. I'm not saying I dislike my co-workers, it's just that sometimes when you work with people all day long, little things annoy you and you want to bash your head into a wall.

6. And finally, new responsibilities. Now this one may fall on either side of the pro/con list but in my case it is definitely in the pro column. Part of my new full time position is going to be marketing, the occasional press release, advertisement, that kind of stuff. Easy. I'll also be working on our website, possibly a staff blog and our Facebook page. So yeah, I'll get to sit around on the computer on Facebook. AWESOME! Ok, I am really going to take it seriously and make our library's online crap super cool. I hope.

Well that's all for now. As with many post I will end this one abruptly.
 
 


Thursday, October 18, 2012

Rantin' and Ravin': Facebook Status Updates

This is something all too common, in fact if you have a Facebook account and were to check it right now you'd probably see one of these somewhere. It's those status updates that are clearly posted just to get attention. OBVIOUSLY all facebook statuses are posted to get attention, I'm talking about the ones that are like "I thought I was doing something right, you've proved that isn't true." or "I just want to lay down and cry but thanks to you I ran out of tears." or "OMG OMG OMG OMG...." That passive aggressive, vague bullshit. I'm not going to lie, I get on Facebook because I get bored in my regular life and like to get into errrrbody elses business. But when you post stupid shit like that it means I have to spend the next three days monitoring your Got-damn page to see what the hell you are crying about so I can make fun of you in the privacy of my own home, alone, because unlike you I don't have a dramatic enough social life. It's probably because I only have 2 friends. And yeah, maybe I am more pathetic than you but the fact that your dumb status updates are sometimes the HIGHLIGHT of my DAY is an excellent reason why you should post better statuses about your f-ed up life! And when people actually give you the attention you oh so crave and you either don't reply or say "I don't want to talk about it" makes me want to find you and feed you to mild mannered piranhas.
Remember back in school when you did they Who, What, When, Where, Why, How writing stuff? Facebook status updates should stick to that template. Seriously, look how much more informative the status becomes when everything is explained.


Old Way:


Creeper Rachel
I feel so cold and empty. Every time I try to do anything for myself everything falls apart around me. The worst part is, I don't know if it's someone else's fault or if I only have myself to blame.......

Like      Comment      Share       5 mins ago

Non-Facebook Savvy Older Relative likes this
 
Confused Rob Husband What's wrong?!
 
Concerned Co-Worker Everything alright? Call me if you want to talk!
 
Well-Meaning Friend of Mother Don't worry hun everything will turn out ok! *Hugz*

Best Friend Lynsey Quit being a little beotch...


New Way:

Creeper Rachel

Who: Myself
What: I'm Pissed
When: All Day
Where: At Home

Why: Lost my favorite pair of seagull underoos
How: Either stolen or I left them in the Walmart cereal aisle when I was picking out my breakfast.

                    Like      Comment      Share         5 mins ago

EVERYONE likes this.

See what I did there? Isn't that like 1000 times better? Isn't that easier than trying to decipher some cryptic Facebook status code? And look! EVERYONE likes this!! Amazing! I admit I have probably posted some of these terrible and annoying open ended statuses once or twice. I have friends and relatives who do this, to them I say, do you bitches! But have the courtesy to drop me a quick message so I know what your crying about. I probably won't reply but it will keep me from spreading horribly incorrect rumors about you. If you aren't willing to do that then you have no reason to post that shit. If your updates persist, I'm just going to start leaving really stupid, inconsiderate comments on your status and then if you ever confront me I'll be like "Aww yeah. I was hacked......Oh you read my blog...AWKWAAARDDDD!!" And slowly Frankenstein walk away. RAWR!

The End....for now...I guess
 


Thursday, October 11, 2012

Bad Workplace Conduct

Sometimes when you work at a place long enough, the line between appropriate and not appropriate behavior becomes a little skewed. I'm assuming for some people that's the point where shit hits the fan and they start harassing their secretaries and stealing copy machines. Inexcusable! Ok, I can't say that I'm always in line but I can at least pull it back in before I get into too much trouble. Every day conduct isn't really my issue; it seems like staff meetings is where things get a little out of hand. It must be sitting in a room with a group of people that aren't allowed to leave, I just can't keep my mouth shut.  I have seriously had to chant "Don't comment, just sit there"over and over again to try to keep myself from being a sarcastic ass during staff meetings. I think it has worked one time.

The worse thing is I'm proud of the dumb quips I make, once again, I think I am hilarious. That has to be the best symptom a narcissist can have, I make myself laugh. People think I'm crazy, I just walk around chortling to myself all day. I work with a lady and sometimes when I talk about how cool something I made or did is, she likes to comeback with "And so modest!" What do I have to be modest about? It's pretty obvious how great I am why would I try to convince anyone I'm not? That would be like self bullying or something. It's not like I just walk around constantly saying I'm awesome and I'm never rude about but if I make some thing super cool for work I'm going to show it off. Plus I'm fat, so even if I wanted to walk around constantly saying I'm awesome, I can get away with that shit. Half of the people would just look me up and down, turn to their friend and say "She's a little chubby, just let her have her moment in the sun." The other half would think I just have really low self-esteem and am being ironic, like one of those emo hipsters. So me being overly confident at times isn't hurting anyone.

Anyways, back to the staff meetings. It took me about 3 years before I really started coming out of my shell, it was kind of a slow drip and then one day it was like someone pull the string of one of those New Year's paper confetti bombs. Rachel glitter just flew everywhere. My very favorite staff meeting conversation was earlier this summer. We were talking about a patron who gave us a hard time about something and is just a really arrogant and condescending guy all the time. So the discussion begins to waver off him to men in general who feel women are inferior and should be submissive to the man. DOT... DOT ..... *EYE TWITCH*GRUNT*DOT So then someone comments they could never be married to someone like that. So then I reply "Right! I don't know how that Jacey Duggard put up with that guy she was with for so long!"

I know, I am Satan. It's word vomit, I couldn't stop it from coming out.

The moans of disapproval that came from my co-workers was almost deafening. So then I open my big mouth again and say "Oh what? Too soon? HAR HAR HAR HAR"
One person didn't know what I was talking about, perhaps they live under a rock, so someone kindly explained that Jacey Duggard was the girl who was kidnapped and held captive in a backyard shanty for 18 years. Then they groaned too. You may wonder why this was my favorite staff meeting, I'll tell you!
Number 1. I always felt disapproving tension in previous staff meetings when I would make dumb (yet much less off color) remarks, at least this time there was actual vocal accompaniment. A moan or a boo is always a better reaction than silence.
Number 2. I have never gone that far since then and now most my jesting comments are met with a chuckle. I've given myself a measurable low so anything above that is considered funny now.

Inappropriate jokes aren't the only thing I am guilty of while at work. There is one other thing. Each summer a little show called Big Brother premieres and I go a little cray-cray. I start getting really sneaky, whispering to people random things, things that aren't even secrets, like "PSSSSSS...I was walking by that table over there....... and this book...... was sitting on it." **head tilt, smug look, raised eyebrows** I join several alliances that only exist in my own mind, play competitions for imaginary vetos and sometimes I lock myself in the breakroom and pretend it's the HOH room. One time I even burnt a co-worker's face with a cigarette during my Evil Dick stage.

So I get a little carried away sometimes. Who can blame me for trying to make my work day a little more exciting? When I got there, that library was full of books and silence. Someone had to do something.

K, bye.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

I could have died today...No seriously. That shit wasn't cool.

Obviously by the title of my post, today was not a great day. I almost died. My life didn't flash before my eyes, I don't know if that means my near death experience wasn't near death enough but it was close enough for me. My mom bought me several cars in high school but my favorite was my 1970 something Ford Gran Torino. Well too many things happened between when I got the vehicle until now so I'm just going to tell you it ended up at some guys shop/house for a bunch of years and now the guy wants it moved. So my mom went there this evening to make sure it started and everything. I went up there with my sister because my mom had the child and we were going to take her to the park. I was helping my mom with the car because it was having issues, so we're messing with it and messing with it and the mechanic's wife came out of their house and she was like STOP STOP FIRE! So I look under the partially opened hood and sure enough less than 10 feet from where I was standing was a huge engine fire. I don't know exactly how long it actually takes for a car to explode once the engine starts on fire, apparently I don't watch nearly enough Nascar, but it must be awhile. First I yelled at my mom to get out of the car then I ran around the other side and yelled at Lacey to get her and Ellie away from the car. Then my mom ran to get the car guy, threw water on it, still on fire, more water, still on fire, more water, still on fire, fire extinguisher, that worked. It was terrifying. So my favorite car is dead but we are all alive. And I smell like gas from all the fumes but I got to see five puppies. So I guess in the end everything works out!

**uPDaTE**
So apparently I am over reacting about almost dying. I think death by flaming car is a pretty legit thing to be traumatized by but my mom and Rob do not think it is that big of a deal. my mom actually said "It wasn't on fire for that long, only like 3 minutes.." IT WASN'T ON FIRE THAT LONG...yeah...ok....and I thought I was supposed to be the crazy one...I'm probably going to have nightmares tonight sooo I'm going to go eat all the ice cream in the house and put myself in a food coma.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Growing Up Badass

If you ask my mom what I was like when I was younger, she will probably tell you I was horrible. Which I was, I was defiant, rude and had no respect for authority. I took a poll on Facebook asking people I went to high school with to give me their honest opinion of what I was like back in the day. Well, out of the like 50 high school classmates have on my friends list only 5 replied (which tells you something right away). The wonderful people who did reply seemed like they were truthful but in a nice way. The consensus seemed to be funny, outgoing, random and didn't care what anyone thought of you.  My best friend, from middle school until present day, had one of the best lines, she said "Also you never worried about be popular, people who liked you liked you BC you were Rachel and anyone who didn't sure was missing out :)" It's true, I didn't care about being popular or fitting in, why? Because I knew I wasn't going to no matter how hard I tried, I'm just too much my own person. I like the things I like, I feel the way I feel and that's that.
The definition of defiance is a daring or bold resistance to authority or to any opposing force. Not to be confused with a non-conformist, those people are just annoying. My choices to go against the grain were not an anarchist approach, mine were more of a personality trait. Along with my sometimes competitive nature, I believe I was defiant just because that was the way I was made. I don't think people should feel like they need to act a certain way, embrace your differences. If I want to wear a crazy outfit to school one day, I will and I did. Now that I am older, I am still all those things only in a neater package. I'm a sophisticated defiant now!
Unfortunately, even though I turned out awesome, many people (like those people I went to high school with) might still see me for the way I was. Which isn't surprising, I tend to leave an impression on people, but the sucky part is people probably take that into consideration when our paths cross. Like with this blog, I have a feeling some people might not read it (or if they do read it they can't enjoy it) because of their opinion of me. Which to that I say, sucks to be you! I'm got-damn hilarious, bitches.                 
**MOVING ON!**

If I could go back in time, I would give myself some advice, here it is!

You are freaking hilarious, don't let anyone stifle that but work on being more appropriate. The only person it is ok to make fun of is yourself. Just because people aren't laughing on the outside, doesn't mean they aren't laughing on the inside. If you're in front of a group and no one's laughing at your joke, just say something completely and ridiculously random and shuffle off to buffalo dance away from the situation.

Always be outgoing, no matter where it takes you in life. It's never bad to want to try things. The day you decide you can't do something is the day you die inside, not let that happen. You really can do anything you want in this life but you're going to have to work for it. No one is going to do it for you, seek out people to help you along the way, ask for their advice and listen to them damnit. You don't know everything! Life isn't fair, you might not be handed the same opportunities as some of your peers but if you want them, go get them.

Respect authority but question it too, not to start trouble but because even though that person is in charge, they might not be right. Eventually you will have a job, several of them over your life, and there are going to be time where someone dumber than you is going to be giving the orders. Deal with it, keep working hard, improving things as you do them and eventually it will pay off. Speak your mind, in a nice way.

Don't ever let anyone push you around but instead of going all fist to cuffs, change their perspective. If that doesn't work.. ARM BAR MOTHER F-ER! Not really, don't be a bully.

Quit being so freaking angry all the time, quit worrying about your weight, believe me, you're going to get a lot fatter. Get better grades, quit talking to your mom the way you do, stay home once in a while and enjoy your family, talk to your great grandma more, once again why are you so angry?! Don't rely on other people to tell you to do the right thing, just do it.

And the last thing I would tell myself is, "Hey look over there!" and proceed to beat the crap out of myself. Because I deserved it.

In closing, my fine feathered friends, the great thing about being a human is we are constantly changing and evolving. I'm not the same person I used to be, I have changed and I've become a better person and I'm going to continue to change until the day I die. Even after I die, I'll keep changing, not into a mess of gooey rotting flesh or dehydrated Rachel corpse. No, I'm getting cremated, I fully intend to rise from the ashes like a majestic Phoenix at my own funeral! It will be awesome, you should totally come! Ok off topic.
It's not fair to judge someone by how they acted 15, 10 even 5 years ago, so much can happen in that amount of time, it's really incredible. So read my blog, laugh at it and treat each encounter with someone from your past as a new beginning. Besides we are all going to die some day, enjoy the short time you have while you're here!

In the words of the great and powerful Urshur.. Peace up, A-town down.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Sugar Nazi and the Therapist

OK, this is one of my pet peeves that is slightly controversial, but not really. It's something I notice while at work many, many times. I don't like writing too much about things that occur at work because who knows, someday I might get in trouble but since this is something I have personally dealt with in my home life I felt it was safe. I am not a "real mom", I have a stepson who is almost an adult, dog children and a rabbit child, and a niece who comes over all the time but I am not a true mother to an actual child. I just wanted to clarify that because I know some moms might want to argue with the following. I understand my perspective on a lot of things are going to change once I become an actual mom, but I think this view will stay the same.

Alright, so here is my pet peeve. When I'm at a store or bank or at work or a parade and a child receives a piece of candy, a sucker or a cookie and the parent walks away complaining about the amount of sugar, if it's unhealthy, the portion etc. I say to this parent, instead of complaining how about you grow a pair and take it away from the 30-60 pound kid. Just take it away, explain to the kid you don't want them to have it, or say you'll save it for later and just never give it to them, or tell them if they eat it they will turn into a monster, tell them whatever you want but STOP COMPLAINING. I have seen people walk out of a bank, their kid just got a dum dum sucker...repeat that A DUM DUM SUCKER and heard them tell the kid "Your teeth.." *Ahem let me grab my megaphone here.."YOUR TEETH ARE GOING TO ROT OUT FROM ALLL THAT SUGAR!" First of all, do you not brush your child's teeth? Seriously. Or are you that spaced out that you actually believe a piece of candy or a cookie every once in awhile is literally going to cause your child's teeth to fall out? Or are you just trying to traumatize your child? I have a reoccurring nightmare that all my teeth fall out and it's f-ing terrifying. The last time I went to the dentist he told me I had a couple cavities I needed filled, I went home and bawled, hysterically, Rob wanted to punch me. I felt like my nightmare was coming true and I brush my teeth twice a day and floss (when I remember, at least 2-3 times a week). If I ever, EVER find out that my nightmares are stemmed from a buried memory of my mom telling me my teeth are going to fall out from too much sugar, I think I might egg her house. And T.P. it, and then while she is trying to clean it up I'm going to throw water balloons at her.

Also do you realize that a dum dum sucker has LESS sugar in it than an apple? Google it, it's true. I don't know if it's because I don't have children of my own but I am not afraid to take candy from a child, ask Ellie, if I don't want her to have something, I'll just take it from her. Sure she will cry and scream for a minute, but eventually she will get over it! Now do that over and over again and eventually when you take something away from the kid, it won't bother the little bugger. Or try exposure methods. Earlier this summer, Ellie decided she wanted everything in the store and when she would be told no, she would throw a monster fit. I decided to take matters into my one hands using my own version of exposure therapy; when she starts to throw a fit, I show her pictures of starving children in Africa and tell her "Hey Kid, you aren't going to get everything you want it life, so you gotta be happy with what you have!" She's damn lucky I don't just start singing "You Can't Always Get What You Want" in my Vienna Boys Choir voice when we are in the middle of Walmart and she's crying about getting a tee-shirt for a toy dog she doesn't even have. Well I guess she's only 4 so she probably wouldn't care but the point is, lay down the law!

Possible Responses from cry baby parents: "Well I don't want to cause a scene in the middle of the store or bank or wherever the free treat was acquired when I take their treat away" Ok, then don't! Tell them they have to wait until they get in the car or get home and then let them make a scene there. Or better yet, trust that your kid is going to show you a little respect and be a good listener and get down to business right then and there. When I see a kid throwing a fit at a store, I have way more respect for that parent if they refuse to give in just to pacify the kid. Pavlov's classical conditioning, if dogs catch on that quickly you know your kid is gonna have it down to a science within 3 times of it happening.

Listen, I get it. Noone wants to be the bad guy, except me, but that's just because I'm like really super good at it. That's what parenting is, if it was all fun and games all the time they would call it funandgames-renting or some ridiculous Willy Wonka term. If years down the line you end up in a therapist's office with your child because you took away a sucker from him, you look that little shit right in those beady, angry eyeballs and say "Oh really? I ruined your childhood? Now you know how I felt when you came rip roarin' out of my vagina tearing everything up as you went! Yeah, why don't you ask your father how much he enjoyed my lady parts after that shit went down! We used to get CRAZY before you were born, we did it EVERYWHERE! The kitchen, the bathroom, on that couch in the basement. We got FREAKY SON, DAY AND NIGHT! Not after all that calamity! I still sometimes pee a little when I cough thanks to your big ass head!" Pause for a moment to let that sink in while both child and therapist look at you in horror then follow up with "There! NOW you need therapy. Peace out homies" Get up, leave. Simple and effective!

So obviously I am going to make a wonderful parent, I'll probably end up writing several best selling parenting books and when I do, you all can say you knew me when!

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Where's Rob?

I've noticed I don't have many Rob stories. This isn't because he isn't funny, he's very funny but almost everything that comes out of his mouth is wildly inappropriate. I would probably laugh a lot more if I wasn't so busy yelling at him and asking God to forgive his evil, evil ways. Not a lot of people see that side of Rob, so they automatically assume I'm the embarrassing one in the relationship and he gets all the pity. Wrong, very wrong. I am what I like to call "situational funny", he is "random, offensive funny".
For example, the other day we were at our local crafty store, checking out all the fall decor when I turn around and there Rob is, in the middle of the aisle dragging a 4 foot tall cross around on his shoulder. I don't even know where he found the thing! Then he makes some joke about Jesus. Shame, shame! The blasphemy of it all! Other times the joke is on me, like the time we were watching a marathon of something, Dexter maybe, and the disc ended. Rob looked at the tv, back at me, threw the remote across the room were it landed next to the DVD player and then said "Hey, while you're up getting that remote, put in the next disc will ya?" He is lucky I have a sense of humor.

We recently watched four of the best YouTube videos I have ever seen, search Guy on a buffalo. Better yet, here is the first episode:


*12 Minutes later*

Hahahahaha. Sorry I had to go back and watch them all again. So funny. Anyways Rob and I have been constantly singing the guy on a buffalo chorus with our own custom verses, mine are usually something like "Bella acts like a buffallooo, hey Rolo better watch out cuz that Bella she's crazy, kinda like a buffaloooooooo." So I sing these cute little songs and Rob, in his infinite indecency, is belting out things that I can't repeat but it makes the buffalo sound like he needs to be in prison. So I guess that's Rob's talent, taking something light and funny and turning it into an episode of Criminal Minds/Law and Order: SVU. Awesome.
Rob is also one of the most non-violent people I have ever met but the dude swears like a sailor on crack. One day I will transcribe one of his phone conversations on this blog and I guarantee by the time I am done the K,U, C and F buttons will be broken. Every third or forth word, I swear. People who don't know him probably think he has tourettes. He drops the f bomb like people who constantly use the word "Like" and "Umm" when they talk. I thought maybe he just didn't know he did it until Ellie started hanging out all the time and I realized he could turn it off. I didn't know he could have actual conversations without swearing, it was amazing! I could stop looking for a wedding officiant who would be ok with Rob cussing throughout our vows! Yay!
The other reason Rob only plays a cameo appearance in these posts is because he works allll the time. As I'm writing this, Rob is busy working. He has been at work since 8:00 and will probably get home around 12:00 a.m. Needless to say, this is one of those nights that I have to be extra well behaved, no crazy animal photo shoots or bringing home any large pieces of curb furniture (furniture people threw out to the curb). This is one of the rare nights he can enjoy peace and quiet. And he'd better savor it because my friend Lynsey told me about this sweet new app for my phone called AutoRap, it turns anything you say into a rap, and come tomorrow night I'll be having a solo rap party in the middle of the living room whether he likes it or not.

Gold Chains!

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Insignificant yet life altering traumas

I am not going to lie, now that I have a small audience actually reading my little stories I've gotten a little nervous and have been having a hard time thinking of things to write about. I started to think maybe my life isn't worth sharing, all of a sudden I had a flashback to an incident I call the "Talk block".

Let me elaborate. First some fun facts, I work at a library desk, therefore it doesn't take long for me to recognize and learn people's faces and name, sometimes people are impressed by this skill, others get a little creeped out. I promise I'm not weird, if you come into an establishment once a week for years the people who work there are going to begin to recognize you. Anyways, I have work there for 4 years, so needless to say I have my share of patrons who I am used to interacting with. Well one day I was working at the check out desk when a regular comes up to check out. I was friendly and said Hello! and we began a brief conversation. I won't go into details but it was one of those conversations where you kind of go back forth with personal quips on the same topic. Like "Great weather we're having! I'm hoping to get to the pool sometime!" and the other person is all "I just got back from there, Timmy had fun but he stubbed his toe" and then you say something like "Oh man, I did that the other day! It hurt so bad I punched a hole in a tree" you know, something along those lines.

So we are having this conversation, I'm finishing scanning their books, and they start looking at their cell phone, as I'm telling my stupid little tidbit to prove that "hey we can relate!" Well before I have the chances to finish what I was saying they kind of cut me off by answering their phone (which I never heard ring) grab their books and start walking away and kind of mouth "bye" I realize the screen of the phone is facing outwards. There is no phone call!!! I'm like seriously?! Fake out phone call? I mean who hasn't seen a tv show where someone does the fake phone call and then the phone actually starts to ring? Am I that horribly annoying that you are going to chance getting busted pulling a fake phone call rather than have to spend another second small talking with me?! It really made me question the quality of my small talk, are my stories not relatable? Is my life no longer worthy of sharing? Then I thought to myself OF COURSE my life is worth sharing! Why do I even ask these questions!?! Who in their right mind wouldn't want to listen to my rants and crazy talk?! Pssshhh..not my problem that person was jealous of my sweet library gig and hot body. Haters gonna hate I guess! So after reassuring myself that I was cool enough to blog, I did what any adult would do after getting dissed by a middle aged book lover, and ran to the bathroom to cry. After about 20 minutes, my co-workers started knocking on the door asking if I was OK, I got all flustered and yelled "I'M POOPING!" Long story short, at our next staff meeting we talked about what is and isn't appropriate work talk. Ok I made that part up, girls don't poop.

The moral of the story is: Be nice to people, it won't kill you, and never, ever fake out phone call someone, especially if they have access to your food or library card.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Fanatic Shemnatic

Helloooo readers. I just want to begin by saying thank you to everyone who bothers to read this crap I come up with and post online. I'm proud to say I have had over 500 views of my blog and know for a fact only 475 of them were me so YAY! To anyone who has a blog or knows someone with a blog 500 might not seem like a lot but keep in mind I only have about 5 friends who aren't blood relatives, so it makes me feel really special :D So again, thank you everyone!!

With that said, we are going to get a little weird. I have talked about my quirky obsessions a bit in previous posts, like the cereal thing (This week it's fruity dyno-bites) and this is kind of a spin off of that.
We watch a lot of tv at our house, like and insanely large, ridiculous amount of tv. If your mother ever told you tv will rot your brain, its not true, because I watch it constantly and I am still a genius. So just like my cereal, I get obsessed with shows. I will watch all the previous seasons and the current season and when it ends I fall into a deep depression and cry a lot. These are usually just shows I come across when seasons of our regular show end and we are waiting for new shows to start. Then they get merged into our regular lineup which consists of  like 100 "events" as our DVR calls it, (that's 100 different shows we record throughout the year, it is at its limit.) It usually works out pretty well because unfortunately shows get cancelled and we can fill that slot with something new. My last great obsession was the show "Eureka". I watched every season available up until the last episode which aired mid July. During my Eureka stage, I was once again sucked into another vortex, similar to that of the baby high, when everything in my life revolved around this show. Rob came home one night and was sitting next to me on the couch, waiting for one of the episodes to get over so we could watch something else (yes, he is the man of my dreams). Well there is a character who had died in a previous episode who kind of comes back in a way and it is very emotional for someone like me who thinks tv characters are real and my close personal friends, but to someone who hasn't been following the series, nothing significant is happening at all. You have to have the back story for it to be at all gripping. I am doing my best to keep it together, and I can tell Rob feels in the air something isn't right because I am way too quiet. So I am dead eye staring at the tv, lips pursed, telling myself "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry" I see Rob out of the corner of my eye kind of looking at me, so I look at him, I look back at the screen and just f'ing lose it. Like seriously snot-nose sobbing, and Rob looks at me, I look at him and just yell.. "BUT HE'S DEAD...HE DIED ROB. HE'S DEAD!!"
I wish I could say this is a one time thing, but I often get way to emotionally involved with fictional characters.

As of about 12 days ago, the cycle has begun once more. I found this show called Primeval, and right now it's the only thing that gets me through the work day. I count down the minutes until I can get home and watch the next episode, it's such a good show. Not only is it awesome because it's about time-travelling dinosaurs but it also has a ton of surprises like one of the main actors, Hannah Spearritt, was a member of S Club 7. WHATTT?! DID YOU JUST SAY S CLUB 7?!? Yes, yes I did. Now excuse me while I clean up this mess, of your mind just being BLOWN! And for those of you who don't know who S Club 7 is, I pity you.

So I am really into this show right now, besides Hannah's character "Abby", my other favorite character is "Connor" played by Andrew-Lee Potts, and in the show they have a little relationship going on. Last night, while I was at work, err I mean I was DEFINITELY NOT at work.........ok I was at work, I had the urge to look both of them up and what did I find out? Not only are they a couple in the show, but also in real life! So at first I'm like "awww!" and then I'm like "wait a tec" and then I want to cry because I am in love with both of them. But then I am ok with it again because I decide I can be their sister wife. Then I remember I have a husband at home, so I shake my fist at the heavens and yell "Curse you Rob!!"

Thankfully I eventually brought myself back to reality and decided it would never work because:
A. They are all the way over in the UK and I could never leave my critters.
B. I'm guessing they probably have some sort of security who are trained to spot crazy people, that would hinder my chances of even meeting them.
C. I have no idea what they are really like in real life, I just love their fictional characters, but I would guess they are super nice people in reality.
D. I would eventually become very disappointed when I figure out we aren't going to capture any time travelling creatures, once again, it's not real (allegedly).
and E. Ok I guess I would miss Rob, a lot.


Turns out, like many of my plans, this one isn't going to work out so I shall just sit at home and admire them from my couch. Like most of my idiosyncrasies, this is definitely not the first time I have been so intrigued by a fictional or fantastical concept that I have become emotionally distraught over the idea that they might not be possible. I wonder if my mom would remember this certain incident I'm going to share with you, probably not since I was a strange child and did lots of questionable shit.

THE YEAR WAS 1998!! *Wavy lines, wavy lines, bright light* (Flashback!!)

Harry Potter was at the top of the charts when a young Rachel stumbled into her mother's room one dark evening. She stood just inside the doorway, silent, waiting for her mom to noticed her.
"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" her mother asked, peering over her book.
The preteen stayed silent, her eyes began to glisten in the dim light of the table lamp. (No wonder my mom needs reading glasses, proper lighting people!)
"What's wrong?!" Her mother exclaimed, as she carefully closed her book.
The brown haired girl began to cry, for nothing could open the flood gates like that of a mother's concerned voice asking "What's wrong?"
She collapsed onto the bed, violently sobbing as her mother frantically put down her book so she could comfort her favorite child.
"Oh my God! What it is?! What's wrong Rachel?!" she said, her voice panicked and shaking.
The girl didn't respond and continued to wail like a wounded cow after a vicious werewolf attack.
"Rachel, OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED?!?!" She mother was now also completely distraught, fearing only the worst.
The girl looked up at her mother, her eyes red and brimming with hot tears and said "I want to go to Hogwarts!"
"What?!" replied her mother, heart and mind still racing she was unable to process what was going on.
"Hogwarts. I want to go there." sniffed young Rachel.
"Hogwarts? What is Hogwarts?" asked her mother.
"You know, the wizard school, in my book"

Now this would have been a completely appropriate time for my mom to beat the living hell out of me and I wouldn't have blamed her! She was scared out of her mind thinking something horrible had happened and it ends up being me wanting to go to school at a fictional place. Luckily, or unluckily, when I was a young child, I would often have fevers which were accompanied by terrible delusions. Even the slightest spike in temperature could bring on all sorts of visions and such, so it was really fun for the entire family when I was sick. My mom just let me wear myself out and the next morning she told me "You were really delirious last night, you had a breakdown about going to Hogwarts!"
Ummm...yes..delirious. We'll go with that! Definitely not mental unstable. But seriously, how freaking awesome would it be to go to Hogwarts?

I live in a closet and have a magical pet rabbit!! Huzzah! Off to Hogwarts we go!
So that's another weird trait I have lived with since childhood, that Rob now gets to deal with. Not only do I get this way with books, tv shows, even concerts I go to (I'm always convinced they are going to ask me to join the band) but I think it also has affect on my dreams. I always have very vivid dreams, sometimes when I wake up I'm actually more tired from all the crap I was doing while I was asleep. I think this ability to become so immersed into an alternate reality is sometimes a gift just as much as a curse. Sure I'm a little more crazy because of it, but it also helps me to be creative, imaginative and have a view on things other people may not have. So overall, as annoying it may be for my family, life would be pretty boring without it!

Well that's the end of another adventure. I hope you enjoyed this latest look into the madness that is me and say a little prayer tonight for Rob and the critters, they really didn't know what they were getting into when I came along. Until next time!




Saturday, August 11, 2012

Mean People and What To Do About Them

I'm having trouble deciding how to word this. I'd like to say my mom doesn't understand what a blog is but that would be a lie, she gets the general concept. That's why its concerning to me when we have conversations like the one we had a few days ago. She told me I should blog about someone in our "family". That is in quotations because we consider a lot of people who aren't necessarily blood family to be apart of our family. That used to really bug Rob, he is more of a facts and figures kind of guy but he eventually just stopped trying to wrap his head around why we do the things we do and life went on. Every once in a while he still tries to figure out what is going on inside our heads but luckily for me he gives up before any real damage is done, a normal human brain just can't handle the madness. So "family" includes all blood relations, half-blood relations, marriage-relations, step relations, people we have known for many years, people we have known for short time but really like, its a pretty open ended thing. Anyways, my mom tells me to blog about this person, who just happens to be someone who is a complete idiot and makes my eye twitch, to kind of "call them out" in a way I guess. So I'm like "Mom, no. You understand anyone can see and read my blog right?" She says yes followed by an evil laugh. So basically my mom is a cyber bully, but I can't blame her. Mean people suck.

Honestly yes, there are several people in my life who I can't stand and have done really mean and stupid things and I would LOVE for everyone to know what jerks they are. But here's the thing about those kind of people, they are really, really stupid or have some kind of mental issue. Seriously, think about it, of all the assholes you know, do any of them seem very intelligent or stable?  They could have a thousand people come up to them and tell them they are a jerk and they will always, ALWAYS have a stupid reason to justify their actions. Or more likely, they will put the blame on someone else "It's how I was raised!" You aren't a barn, you raise a barn and it stays a barn. You are a human with a mind of your own, humans evolve and are constantly changing. If you want to be a better person, all you have to do is do it.

Alas, some people just wanted to stay assholes, so as hard as it is you just have to let it go and let them be ridiculous. Would it make me happy to share with them world how crazy these people are? Yeah, it would make it easier to deal with them if I could vent my anger. Would it really make me happy to bully beatdown their asses? I dunno, if I had to guess I'd say yes, it would probably make me feel really good but everyone knows those type of loud mouths are the first ones who will run and call the police. I've never been to jail, considering my size, my ingenuity, master craft skills and that I'm a total bad-ass I'd probably do ok. Between all the crime shows and Martha Stewart episodes I watch I'm fairly positive I could make a shiv out of anything but I'd really miss my family so I'm forced to take the high road and not go all Mortal Kombat on these people. Plus, in the end they would still be jerks, just jerks with bruises.

See you have to be smart about it, think outside the box, sneaky revenge. For example, someday I might have a really awesome party and invite them but pay everyone else $50 if they promise not to talk to them, or when I win the lottery someday, instead of cash I'll just make a donation to a charity for them and forget to fill out the name part so they never get recognition for it. Possibly at some point I'm going to build a sweet ass treehouse and I'll let them come up but we will sit around awkwardly not talking and then I'll be all like 'I think I hear my husband calling, I better go..." Maybe I'll order pizza someday and accidentally order something they don't like as a topping and offer to make them a sandwich instead but suddenly remember I'm out of bread but I have a stale hamburger bun you can use. When we are around them make constant reference to something random and then be all "Oh sorry, it's kind of an inside joke. hehehe." I can think of a million subtle plans to use on my nemeses, I don't know if it will make me feel better but I'm pretty immature so chances are it would. The real question is would doing these things make me just as evil as they are? Would I turn into the monster that I was fighting in the first place? Would justice really be served or would it turn my world into a sucking vortex of hurt feelings? Possibly but at least for now I can take comfort in the fact that I get to go home every night to two fluffy dogs, a loving husband and a rabbit who sometimes doesn't hate me. That's what makes life worth living!

I should probably end it there but for some reason it feels too mushy. So I'm going to include this picture of all the stuff I cleaned out of that brush roller thing of my vacuum, next to a loofah, that has a mustache on. What? Isn't this how everyone spends their Saturday nights?! Enjoy!

So freaking gross!!!