My wild and crazy weekend

Friday morning I woke up at 3:50am to begin my journey to Seattle. I was heading to WA for a bachelorette party for my best friend in college. I haven't seen her in 4 years (we talk all the time) so I was excited. What I wasn't excited about was waking up at 3:50am to make a 6:30am flight. Another not fun thing is that I live in a small town so getting to Seattle involved 4 hours of traveling (when it really should have been about an hour and a half). I got to my airport in plenty of time and read a fun book til my plane took off. The plane trips were uneventful and I managed to read even more of the book.

I got into Sea-Tac at 10:30 and met my friend's fiancee and her sister. We then went and bought all the alcohol for the weekend and a Playgirl (that was used in a game for the bachelorette.) I was disappointed by the Playgirl (I hadn't seen one since I was 12 and was traumatized at the thought of adult men and their things hanging out). This month edition had 2 pictures of men over 70 and one of a man in a dress (as well as the other typical spreads of men cupping themselves). I also had the pleasure of purchasing it from a older male employee of Barnes and Noble.

Weird WA fact: you can't buy hard alcohol at a grocery store- you have to go to a gov't owned liquor store.

We then picked people up from the airport and from work. I was told that it drizzles in Seattle and Olympia, but no hard rain. I was told a lie. The entire weekend (except for 1am Saturday night) was a downpour. I was not properly attired for a downpour, but luckily my makeup was not badly ruined (which was important to me). My hair on the other hand, ended up looking like Monica's (from Friends) when they went to the Bahama's or Jamaica.

Friday night we went to this pub for drinks and dinner. The waitress was bizarre and when I ordered a drink that was listed on the menu she was confused. And the bartender was confused, and she was giving me a weird smile when she brought it over (note to self- stick with cranberry vodkas). She then watched me eagerly as I took the first drink (I think the bartender watched too, hidden from my view). She then told me it was the first time anyone ordered it (again it was a restaurant special).

After dinner we went barhopping around Olympia. Olympia is a lot like the town I went to college in and at one point I leaned over to my friend and said "You could move this bar and all the people to our town and no one would look out of place." It has this very hippy, naturey feel. And I was totally bombarded by memories of college. Unfortunately I didn't turn 21 until I was a senior so my bar memories are sadly lacking.

I, being the ball of fun I am, fell asleep on the ride home that night (it was about 12am). It might have also been the benedryl i had to take because my friend has a cat and I have allergies to them. My friend has two pets. A pug with "special needs" who has uncontrollable pee and poop, and a cat who will slap your face to get your attention.

The next morning we woke up fairly late and then went to a wine tasting. The wine sucked but the company was full bodied and rich in laughter (we also have great legs-that's it for the sad wine comparisons).

We then made our way to Seattle and thus began the bachelorette party. We played drinking games and laughed at inappropriate gifts. And people compared significant other stories. I was of course quiet during this time. But at least I was drinking my sorrows.

By about 11pm we got ready to go bar hopping again. I realized when we hit the first bar that I am old. I have never been a fan of the meat market bars, but I now really feel out of place in them. I guess that's a good thing at least I'll never be a 40 year old hanging out in the college bars.

The next bar was better, for me anyways. It was a hang out place and we were able to talk and compare wedding horror stories (did I mention I was the only one not married at the party-once again the last single gal I know).

We crawled back into the hotel after 2am and I made my way to my cot (which had straps-what freaky sort of people used these cots?) I woke up the next morning and was not only slightly hung over but late to meet the airport shuttle. Damn and double damn. I ended up barely making it to my plane and then having a layover at my next stop. At one point an older gentleman pulled one of the flight staff aside and said "Sir why is the flight late?" The flight staff said in this snooty french accent, "I have told you 3 times now and I will get back on the intercom and say it again." He then got on the intercom and said "The flight is still delayed. We are having mechanical problems." That is not what you say to people about to board a plane the size of a matchstick box. I was convinced we were going to die the entire flight. Luckily we made it in OK.

So now I am back in my home. Missing my friend and even the colder weather of WA. The wedding is in about 2 months and I have only have 7 words: Catholic wedding, giant rosary, and taco bar.

It should be a lot of fun. I am on the hunt for a date to the wedding. Right now I am trying to convince my best male friends that they really wants to attend this with me. I don't think they're buying it, but I am hoping the desire to help people will sway them.

My office, the fort

The company I work for is in the process of moving. All around my computer are empty boxes waiting to be filled a ton of paperwork. It totally reminds me of being a kid and wanting my desk at school to have a wall around it so no one could tell I wasn't paying attention. Now I have a fort that keeps people from seeing me blog at work. Cool beans.

Why she is my oldest friend

Besides the fact that her family is hilarious and she tells me great stories about her crazy patients, she also sends me text messages like this:

Just thought you'd like to know that Big Bird is cooking Huevos Racheros right now. Am I the only one who is deeply troubled by this? I mean, I know he's not a girl bird, but still... YUCK!

And hats off to PBS for makng Big Bird a cannibal.

What makes therapists take notes? Tell them you had awkward dream sex. It worked for me.

In therapy I was talking about my family drama this weekend, and my therapist asked if I have ever heard of this theory on relationships (I forget the name). The gist is that the person you choose to partner with is a model of your most dysfunctional parent relationship (aka MOM). WTH?!? Like my social life wasn't dead already, there is no way in hell I am going to go search out that. Apparently the first step to avoid this is to be aware of who I am attracting (and here I thought it was only homeless men over 50, but really it's homeless men over 50 with major mental illness. Sweet). I am hoping this is a 12 step program, or maybe something like The Secret (that creepy book The O touts) in that now that I know, I can avoid. If not, then I will learn to be okay with being alone.

I then brought up my sex dream, and my therapist started writing furiously. I asked if this was foreshadowing, but she thinks it means that I am too closed off to intimate relationships. Or at least that's what I think she meant, midway through her explanation she told me time was up (I had a dinner to go to and I couldn't be late), but that we would talk more next week. Fantastic.

My dinner was fabulous. I got to see my oldest friend (we met in kindergarten). First she in the WW like me and is losing weight slow like me too. Then I found out I have actually lost more than her (by only like 5 pounds, but she lives in the land of fried foods so she gets a pass in my book). She is a doctor in the South, and we compared horror stories of our family and our work. Both our families are crazy and we both see addicts (she see crack addicted delivering mothers and I see the DEI). Her patient stories were funny and a little sad. Like the woman who got high on crack by putting it in her va jay-jay-so as not to be busted by the cops (she forgot to put it in the baggie first). Did I mention she was pregnant? But she now thinks my friend is the bees knees and seeks her out for all her pregnancy needs. And my friend is slightly scared of her because she is a major drug dealer and could have her killed so she sees her. It's a nice relationship.

The party, the dinners, and the awkward dream sex: must be another weekend recap


Lets begin with the party. Someone did try to pinch me (which wasn't even on St. Pat's). Lucky for me, I was wearing a green jade bracelet, but I told the girl if she pinched me I would cut her (I tried to sound mean too). Overall the party was fun. I got one drunk hug, played silly break the ice games, and laughed as a friend of mine got a drunk back rub (by the same person who drunk hugged me. It made my hug look tame).

On Saturday I went to a depth psychology discussion group. If you don't know what that is, don't worry neither do I. I went to support my friends and learn something new. It was all mostly over my head, and what I learned is how little I know about things.

I then tried to avoid dinner with my brother so I went shopping. I bought 2 new shirts (I wore one today and got a compliment), and window shopped for a wedding present.

Finally I had to go visit the fam. Dinner was OK (mostly because I stayed as far away from my brother as I could). The person sitting next to me leaned over and told me that my brother was intense. Then she said, "did you see him order dinner for his girlfriend and tell her what appetizers she could eat (none in case you wondered)." I didn't actually see that but it didn't surprise me. He also told my dad he was going to get diabetes from eating a dinner roll, and tried to tell him how to spend his money in general. I had a headache leaving dinner that night. But I did laugh at the impression my brother makes on people. I was reminded of Thanksgiving about 2 years ago. A friend of mine came for dinner and my brother had recently gotten out of prison. About midway through the meal she leaned over and asked me, "Who is the man that looks like he wants to stab me?" Sure enough, I looked up and my bro did look like he wanted to stab her. Needless to say most of my friends stay away from him.

On Sunday I had to go to my aunt's house for a BBQ in honor of bro and his babies. This time it was my mom's family drama. It was OK, but my mother kept getting mad at my brother (I don't really know why), and then she got mad at me for complimenting her hair (apparently she hates the cut). I spent lots of time in the kitchen cleaning.

If my weekend wasn't fun enough I had a dream last night in which I was having sex with a good friend of mine. The sad part was it was uncomfortable, awkward sex. And it was a dream that feels like it really happened so I woke up feeling sad about having awkward sex. I hope this dream isn't foreshadowing of my social life to come.

Pinch This

The St. Paddy's party is starting early this year. I have to attend a work party tonight,and there has been talk of pinching if you're not wearing green. I think I might have to break some fingers. The potential pincher is also the person who got hammered at the last party and told a coworker he wanted to lick her eyelids (and told me I was, "pretty in a weird way").

As if one party isn't enough, my brother and his family are coming into town, so that everyone may pay tribute to the babies. I will be attending a family BBQ in their honor on Sunday. This is definitely the weekend to have a drink.

Ewwwww


Tuesday night I watched Prime Time. They have been running episodes about people who live outside of the norm. The episode this week was on the porn stars and they followed two women. One whose parents basically cut her off, and one whose parents were her managers. The manager parents were really creepy. First off they said that they were proud when their daughter became a prostitute (she was a stripper first, and yes her parents watched her perform,then she became a prostitute for a year, and then a porn star) because she was fed by a chef everyday, had a maid, and was tested regularly. WTF?!? These were not poverty stricken people, but middle class America.

The father then went on to say that he was glad his daughter was a porn star because at least she was not out getting her heart broken. I have heard a lot of different reasons that parents might be okay with having a child in the porn industry or even a prostitute, but to say it keeps them from forming intimate relationships (and that is a good thing) is really sad. Oh, and the parents watch all their daughter's movies. Again with the ewwww. There was no mention by these parents about the toll this lifestyle takes on thier daughter; the only thing talked about was, "if you've got it, flaunt it." and how cool is it that she makes a lot of money doing porn.

The reporter asked the daughter if she thought of her parents as her pimps. To which she replied, "absolutely not, in fact if anything I pay them, you know, to keep me safe and for all they do." Yeah, that's not like a pimp at all.

Daylight Savings is Kicking My Ass

Last night I forgot to set my alarm before bed and today I woke up an hour late. Damn you daylight savings. I do feel somewhat lucky after hearing from Supermommy. She reported that her son has been waking up even earlier than normal (I believe her term was the butt crack of dawn), and he is telling her Happy Valentines Day! when he wakes her up. She told me that's what she gets for doing crafts with him.

My Top Option for Worst Case Scenarios

Sometimes it's hard to be professional. I was helping a fellow student with his dissertation on Friday and I had to take a test of cognitive functioning. First off, I told him that if the test showed I had low intelligence I do not want to know. He agreed but said he would probably avoid me if my score was really low. Nice.

So this test had math, memorizing (which I sucked at), and reasoning and judgement. It was in the reasoning and judgement that I shined. One question asked what I would do if I was stranded somewhere with only a dollar on me. I said I would go find a security officer because obviously I have been mugged, then if I needed money I guess I would have to hook a little. At the end of the test he said I was the first to ever use hooking at an option. I told him it was always an option as a worst case scenario. People who travel with me know that my rule is if we are ever lost and someone needs to hook for directions, I am automatically out (as the driver/owner of the car). I have found it's best is to travel with 2 men: one gay and one straight, that way all my hooking bases are covered. As of yet, I have not had to put my plan into action, but it's there none the less.

I have more to talk about from my weekend. But today I have a migraine. I am blaming the time change. I really hate the time change. Until my body is adjusted (give or take about a week) the time change will be responsible for all all the evils in my world such as; my milk going bad yesterday morning, the laundry not getting gone, my migraine, and the rise of gas prices.

Captain Fritzy Tamera: Pirate Extraordinaire

Last night I attended my first pirate birthday party. It was Supermommy's little boy's third birthday and it was so much fun. We all got pirate names (based on our first pet and the first street I lived on-which also works for finding your porn star name). We also had treasure chest cake (no Lent for me last night), and "rum and coke" (aka Roy rogers). My pirate duties included holding babies, getting hit with a ball repeatedly (a little boy thought we were playing a game of dodge ball, and according to him I suck), being very excited by all the pirate's "booty", and playing with flurp (this silly putty that makes farting sounds- this was the funniest gift the birthday boy got). My big job of the night was to take pictures of the birthday boy blowing out the candles to his treasure chest cake. I tried to get some shots of him while everyone was singing, and then when it was time for the money shot, he coughed all over the cake. I think I took maybe one picture after that, but I was laughing too hard to know for sure. Supermommy really knows her little pirate, because she made cupcakes that were off to the side and not hacked upon.

Speaking of little ones, I went on more preschool observations yesterday and met a really grumpy preschool teacher (which made me really sad for the kids) and a slightly off preschool teacher. The first preschool (with Ms. Grumpmeister) was the exact opposite of the preschool I was at last week. None of the kids ever even acknowledged I was in their room, and I was sitting very close to a group of them playing with Dora toys. One of the kids looked like something out of Children of the Corn, which was slightly disturbing. The teacher also seemed upset that the kids were playing well telling me, "They are never this good." Nice.

At the second preschool I walk in and met my new best friend. This teacher wanted to show me all the wonderful things she does in her classroom, which included making the kids say the Pledge of Allegiance, and that they are proud to be American every morning (twice that day for me). That creeped the heck out of me. Mrs. Patriotic told me that for Christmas (because for proud Americans there is no other holiday) she made all the parents a dvd of their child saying the pledge. Not a video of them playing and having fun, but of them saying they are proud to be an American. I know she totally dubbed crazy pro-America music on it, and had a flag waving gently in the background (and maybe fireworks).

She wanted to show me how much fun they have playing outside. All the kids did was run around (it did seem like they were having fun), but the scary thing was one kid was not playing with the group and this teacher never once went to find him. Just let him play unsupervised for at least 15 minutes (this child also looked like he was a Child of the Corn, which I thought was odd to see more than one in a day). I also got to watch the kids play duck duck goose, which was hilarious part of my day because they were too young to fully get the concept, so it was just kids running in a circle screaming "Goose!"

Update On My Dishwasher Nightmare

At work today as I am telling everyone about the dishwasher from hell, they are all nodding and agreeing that dishwashers catch on fire! We even got talking about irons and clothes dryers (which I have always known were scary agents of destruction). I was shocked that I never knew my seemingly harmless appliance was also a death monger. I knew I should have taken better notes in home EC. Would anyone else like to share their appliance nightmares? And please don't limit it to dishwashers, lets see what else I can become scared of.

I'm No Domestic Goddess, But I've Got a Kick Ass Guardian Angel

So tonight I realized the weird smell in the dishwasher was a wooden spoon that got stuck to something on the bottom. Apparently, things got really hot because the spoon was burned black in places. Thanks be it didn't catch on fire. I really don't want to be the person who dies because of improper utensil placement. Although I bet at least one of my friends would say in the eulogy, "She always said she couldn't load a dishwasher." I once thought the dishwasher was the safest appliance in my house. Now it scares me like a mirrored closet. Or one of those dolls you put in a corner. Shuddering.

Latent Psychosis

Every once in a while I go to a movie and it reminds me of my own life, and not in a I'm married to the hunky guy and have the perfect kids kind of a way. No, it's usually the dramas or the psychological thrillers that make me think of, oh I don't know, my brother. Take for example the movie, The Number 23. I went with a friend to see this movie this weekend and it totally reminded me of my brother. Sigh. It is a great movie, and it does a fantastic job of showing the decent into psychosis. And it has this neat ending (which I am trying very hard not to spoil for everyone). But the manner in which the main character becomes crazy about the number 23 is how my brother is with the number 7. I really need to stop seeing movies that remind me of my family. I go to the movies to escape for a while, not to have it thrown back in my face. I think the next movie I want to see is Reno 911: Miami, that can't possibly remind me of anyone I know. Right?

And The Winner Is...

There has been an unofficial contest going on this week since the birth of my nephews. Since their middle names are Racer and Ryder it has been a challenge for my office mates, and friends to top the ridiculousness. So far I have heard:

Ranger and Rover
Motor cross and Quad (I was calling them this, especially before they were born and I couldn't remember what their first names would be).
Driver and Biker
And pretty much any variation of these things.

So my best friend called me last night and the first thing she asked me was, "How are Low Rider and Speed Racer doing?" And I couldn't stop laughing. So those are the new nick names. And in case you are wondering they are fine as far as I know. Supposedly they are coming to town, but I am trying to make myself scarce from this blessed event. Last week filled my family quota for the month.

Because I Didn't Expect The Spanish Inquisition

So today I had to do a preschool observation. I went when they were outside playing. I walked over to where they had different stations set up. Two little girls approached me (at one time there were like 7 or 8 kids around me though). And apparently they were active members of the Inquisition Reenactment Society. And so began the questioning.

"Why are you here?"
To watch kids playing.
"Why?"
Because that is my job.
"Why do got a purse?"
Because I keep my stuff in it.
"Why do you got a notepad?
To makes notes of kids playing. If you go play I could write something about you.
"Can I read it?"
No.
"Why not?"
Because you're not a grownup.
"Where is your mommy?"
She lives in another town.
"What's her name?"
Emily.
"Where's your daddy?"
He lives in another town too.
"What's his name?"
Murphy. Why don't you go play so I can write about you.
"Where's your kids?"
I don't have any kids.
"Why not?"
Because I don't yet.
"Are you sure she's not your girl (pointing to the girl with the purple flower pants who was standing by me pointing
out the flowers)."
She is not my daughter. I bet she has a great mommy. Time to go play now.
"Can I look in your purse?"
No. (I realized a second later my purse was open on the ground. I was tying a shoe). Get out of my purse please. Thank you.
"Do you want to see: my doll/hair/purple flower shirt and pants/ rocks/ninja moves/ me doing cartwheels/ princess t-shirt/see how fast I can run/ a branch I picked up off the ground/my purple flower pants (this girl came back twice to show me the wonder that is her clothes)/me pretend I am a horse/ me on the slide/my friends?"
Sure. That was: pretty/neat/cool/wow, good cartwheel/pretty shirt you look like a princess too/you're a fast runner/why don't you put the branch down before someone gets hurt/again your clothes are pretty/nice horse/don't slide down that way please.
"Did you know my daddy doesn't live with me anymore? He spends the night with his new friend."
I didn't know that. Do you want to show me a cart wheel again?
"No I can't I fell, so now all I can do is walk (sad face). Hey kid, you need to walk with me. But all we can is walk because I fell."
Me laughing at ninja kid. Don't worry he later recovered and later showed me his ninja-riding-a-horse moves.
"Did you know I liked Power Rangers?"
I did not know that. I bet they're cool. Have fun on the slide.

I also broke up several fights, tied one shoe, received 3 hugs (all by the same kid) and was told I couldn't enter the painting area because I wasn't wearing red (the teacher was letting the kids with red go first).

I was only there for 45 minutes and yet it felt longer. I think the main inquisitor (she was also the hugger) has a future job as an interrogator.

I also got to do hours of paperwork and saw clients. One of whom is a talker. Needless to say it was a long, kind of funny day.

Lunch was also fun. I went out with a supervisor and found out she likes to read romance novels too. And for the same reason I like to read them (and if you are thinking the sex scenes you would be wrong. Very wrong). She is trying to get them up for Lent. And I thought giving up sweets was hard, butI could never give books up. I told her so too. And we also talked shop (lest you think we were simply slacking off talking about Nora Robers for 2 hours).

So I leave you with something else that made me smile today. A newly wedded couple chose to dance their first dance doing the last dance from Dirty Dancing. I had all my co-workers watching this. And since I have no dance skills I was uber jealous.

I have an all day training tomorrow, and I'd like to believe it won't bore me out of my mind, so that by the end I wish I had a melon baller to carve my own eyes out, but I don't have a lot of hope.

"Hands off my meat Pat!"

As I was eating dinner I turned on Wheel of Fortune just in time to hear a contestant shout out "Soup and Nupes" The correct answer was "Soup and Nuts" but he played that about as well as I would. A few minutes later someone got a bankrupt and Pat Sajak told the person, "Sorry but I am going to have to take your meat." This is why I eat in front of the tv.

Why I Am Going To Hell In a Hand Basket

Hi my name is Lorelai and I am a judger. I judge peoples looks, their hair, and even their shoes. I try not to do this, and I know it's mean, but damned if I don't make comments in my head about ugly shoes and prints that should never be seen in public. Making these comments is not really the thing that will bring on the brimstone and hellfire, it's where the majority of my comments are made. I seem to find an endless supply of what not to wear at my church.

Every Sunday I walk in and am telling myself thou shalt not judge. If I am lucky I can make it 30 minutes. This was not a lucky Sunday. I had the misfortune of standing behind the gnarliest mullet I have ever seen in my life. I tried to look away, and I even tried to focus on the great sermon (which was on denying temptation--are you kidding me). By the end all I could do was look inward and pray. Who am I kidding I also had to walk away. As I glance around my fellow parishioners and witness a fashion don't, I make up stories about these disasters. Take the mullet for instance. I wondered how a hairstyle could go so wrong, and decided that her child was becoming a hair stylist and she was the first customer. Because it was her child she had to wear it out. Then I really liked the lady because she owned that tragic hairstyle (my mind is a scary place I know).

As you are reading this you may wonder about my own fashion sense. Let me reassure you, I'm no fashion great. Most days if I remember to brush my hair I am impressed with myself, and my clothing leaves a lot to be desired. I sometimes think I use my comments as my own episode of "What Not to Wear." If nothing else it keeps me from sporting a mullet.

Multiples of 7

This is my aunt story and it actually begins in July, when my brother and his I'm-not-sure-what-to-call-her (they say their married, but had no ceremony, so I just call her by her first name, Lureen) came to my neck of the woods. This was my first meeting of Lureen. She seemed nice, but my brother is a train wreck, so anyone attracted to him brings their own special funk to the mix. A week after I met her I got a phone call at 5:30 in the morning informing me I was an aunt. They just found out they were pregnant. I wish I could tell you I was happy for them, but I honestly felt nothing but dread for that poor little fetus. At this time my brother was convinced that Jesus was really the devil tricking the world, and that multiples of 7 were God's blessing. At any moment he could tell you all the multiples of 7 in his own life (they were always these crazy math problems that never made sense like: 9+3+2/2 is how he knew his apartment was blessed). Lucky for me he lives several hours a way, so I didn't see him often.

In September they found out they were having twins. Again all I could think of was those poor children. Lureen has a child of her own, a 7 y.o with Down Syndrome and I couldn't imagine how they were going to handle twins. My brother also decided in November to stop working, so he could relax before the babies came. Somehow they managed on unemployment, but if I think about this for too long I go crazy. My brother also decided to name his children Racer and Ryder because they were going to be motor cross riders. I asked him once what he would do if the boys did not want to race and he replied, "Kids will do what ever their parents tell them to." And he was not kidding.

Before this blessed event took place my mother and I worked out a system (or so I thought). She would call me once when Lureen went into labor, and I would not answer the phone if it was middle of the night. Let me tell you what happened.


The first of many calls came at 4:30 Wednesday morning. It was my brother telling me Lureen may be in labor. Then my mother called me to repeat this information. For the next two hours my phone rang about 20 times. By the time I answered the phone all I could say was stop calling me I have to go to work. Unfortunately that has never stopped my mother. I think she reached an all new high for phone calls in one day (I think she reached 25). Did I mention I had an important presentation first thing in the morning? Well I did and it pretty much sucked ass.

The babies were born about 5:30pm. Racer came first, then Ryder. They were almost 7 pounds each, and were about 20 inches long. All I know is that everyone was healthy, and my mother hated Lureen's mother (this was their first meeting). I actually heard more about that then I did the actual birthing. Both my mother and father attended the blessed event, but my father booked it right after the babies were born (smart man). I drove up on Friday. I really wanted to stay in a hotel room. Instead I was placed on an air mattress in the nursery, and had the joy of getting woken up and stepped on when ever a baby needed to be changed. It will be along time before I go back.

The babies are fine. My brother is convinced that if he keeps them up during the day they would sleep at night. Did I mention they are only 5 days old? I tried to explain how much sleep babies need, but he didn't believe me. He is convinced they will be on a schedule any day now.

Highlights from my trip include watching my brother yell at his 7 y.o. stepson for putting on a pink pair of socks ("boys don't wear pink!"). He also yelled at him for giving him a kiss too (I believe what he yelled was, "boys don't kiss"). I also got to hear in excruciating detail how Lureen's rectum was all messed up from the delivery. I tried to walk away, and I tried to change the subject, but in the end all I could do was seek out my happy place.

During one midnight changing my brother came into the nursery (aka my room) and mentioned he might be wrong about the whole Jesus-is- the-devil thing. Given the fact that his babies were born on Ash Wednesday, and their birthday is a multiple of 7 (how he figured that out I can't begin to imagine) he thinks JC may be OK. He mentioned he may have to rethink the whole Catholics-are-going-to-hell-for-believing-false-Gods. I made the stupid mistake of asking "Why only Catholics?" To which he replied, "They're the only ones that believe in Jesus." and then walked out of the room. All I could do was go back to reading my book. I also got to drive my mother home. Needless to say she traveled with 3 jamba juices and one big gulp of soda, all were spilled at one time or another in my car. And I got to hear her reasons why Oprah's leadership academy will fail, and how parakeets exercise/eat/groom/sleep.

Someone once asked me if I was excited to be the aunt, and if my brother was going to be a great dad. I told them with my brother it will end up going one of two ways. My brother will get all Tyler Perry and have fatherhood make him a man, or he will kidnap the babies, move to Idaho and join a white supremacist group. It's really any ones guess.

This Should Be Fun

Tomorrow I am on my way to visit my brother and his babies. I am sure many stories will come from this trip. The least of which will be driving my mother home. Wish me luck. I am sure I will need it.

Apparently God Listens to Desperate Pleas

It looks like by the end of the night I will officially be Aunt Lorelai to Racer and Ryder. My auntie story is soon to come. Here's a teaser: I just got a call from my mother (who took the train to where my bro lives) and she said: They're letting her rest. I am here with everyone. I met her mother and I don't like her, I haven't met everyone else yet, but they seem weird. Call me.

Note to self: hold off on calling mom.

To think I am missing all this family bonding. What she doesn't know is that my father is also on the way to hospital. Let the games begin.

Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler

I forgot to say Happy Mardi Gras! I am going to eat crap today (I had a pop tart with lunch), since I am giving up all the fun stuff for Lent. My only word of advise is not to flash your boobs in a crowd, unless you are in New Orleans. I had a friend who thought that was the way to get beads (and she wanted to show off a boob job), and she got arrested. That was my Debbie Downer PSA.

I Want My Buddha's Delight

I had been looking forward to my 4 day weekend for over a month. And it went by so fast. At least I got to sleep in. Other highlights from my weekend include:

Friday: A visit to the "girl doctor" (as my dad calls it). My insurance sucks ass and won't pay for an annual, so I had to go to Planned Parenthood (where they will do it for free-sweet). I have never been to one before, and it was nicer than I expected. I was also the oldest person there by about 10 years (patient wise), which was lovely. The visit was over quickly, and that's the best thing you can say about those visits. This is the second day of the year I hate being a girl (the other being when we go to the woods-I have pee issues).

Saturday: Family trip to the movies. I called all my aunts and their kids about 9 of us went to see Music and Lyrics. It was really cute, but the best part was the company. I sat between my aunt and her daughter and they were hilarious. Apparently they have been eating well, and exercising like crazy (they went for a 2 hour walk before the movie), so they used the movie as a free day. At one point my cousin got a look of pain on her face when she realized she did not take a lactaid pill. She looked like she was going to faint or throw up, and I got the giggles. Awful of me yes, but it was like that scene in French Kiss when Meg Ryan eats all the cheese. I also went shopping and found the dress I want to wear to a weeding in May and my graduation in June. Now all I need is for it to go on sale so I can buy it.

On Sunday I hung out with my dad and his g.f.'s family at a BBQ. It was fun, and once again I kicked ass in scrabble. My strategy this time was just to add one letter to the end of big words (toxine was my favorite). My brother's girlfriend thought she was in labor, so we almost had to travel 4 hours to where they are. I was praying the babies would wait, as my mom has not been feeling well and the road trip would have been hell. Sure enough God listens to desperate pleas, and the labor stopped and they were sent home. Dodged that bullet.

Monday I ran errands pretty much all day. It felt like I was running in circles, but it was nice to get my errands run in the light of day. I also felt really cool when I bought a pedometer at Target. That is, until I tried to use it, and it only registers once every 20 steps. Dammit Janet.

Now I am back to work. I have lots of reports due this week and a presentation tomorrow on Reactive Attachment Disorder. Wish me luck.

You're Too Kind. Really.



Aside from being the week of celebrating love and S.A.D. it is also the week for Random Acts of Kindness. Yesterday, a coworker offered to set me up on a date with the homeless man that washed her car windows. Even though I politely declined, I think this counts for her act. I still haven't figured out what my act will be. I tried to not to curse at drivers today, but that was too hard (freeway drivers suck it hard). I was nice to someone who bugs me, so maybe that counts. What will your act be? And if we designate a week for practicing random acts of kindness, do they really count as random?

Valentine's Day: The Other Jewish Holiday

Last year a friend was telling me about her Valentine's Day plans when I remembered something. She was Jewish. Curious, I asked her about this (especially since a month before she went on a rant as to why she would never celebrate Christmas). She replied that as a Jew all she had to celebrate was Passover and Hannukuh, so she annexed Valentine's Day for her people. So to my friends, both Jewish and otherwise, Happy V-day.

Curse of the Weapon Wielding Toddler

S.A.D. does not stand for Seasonal Affective Disorder this month, but Singles Awareness Day (or for you who have someone to call your own, Valentine's Day). I can remember being a child and loving Valentine's Day. I will admit any holiday whose major function is to receive candy is a winner in my book. As an adult this holiday has been less than lovely. Starting off with the fact that I never seem to have a date on this holy of holiest date nights. Luckily, I always have fellow S.A.D. members to commiserate with. It also doesn't help that I appear to have a V-day curse (thankfully it doesn't appear to be contagious to anyone except my immediate family).

It began when my father's house was searched by our cities finest, looking for my brother (and all the property he stole). At the time I was living with my father, so to come home and find everything you own in a pile on the floor is unsettling to say the least. For those who are unaware, when the Po-po have a warrant to search they look everywhere and through everything; pulling clothing out of drawers and your mattress off the bedspring. To be honest, my room was a sty before the Fuzz arrived, and more than anything I was embarrassed that someone had looked through things I considered personal (like dirty laundry). Even now when I see an officer I wonder if they had a part in pawing through my laundry or rummaging through the bowels of my cloest (finding nothing more than clothes and romance novels on the floor).

A year ago on Valentine's day my mother was hospitalized for 7 days. For those 7 days I commuted between work and school to her hospital, bringing her cigarettes, for her as well as her new friends in the hospital. I will admit it is funny looking back on how I tried to find 12 kinds of cigarettes for the different patients in my mother's ward. Many were brands I had never heard of and was told by countless store clerks were too cheap to be carried by their stores. Before this time I never knew a cigarette could be considered "too cheap" to be sold at a shop and rob. Not to mention I brought in all the other things patients requested (such as clothing and candy-which I found out was not allowed to be brought in to her wing-but cigarettes were ok-weird). Apparently I was the only one to visit a family member, so everyone had a request. And one night when I visited I got lost trying to leave and thought I would have to spend the night. Luckily I was saved by hospital staff.

I have been feeling out of sorts for the last two weeks and I knew it was because of the Cupid Curse. I have also not spoke to my mother in about a week and a half, due to this fear. Fear that her hospitalization was not a one time thing, but rather an annual event. I finally called her on Thursday and my fears were confirmed. She is beginning to get sick again and if it progresses she may need to be hospitalized. At this point there is nothing left but to wait it out. I am so looking forward Wednesday being over.

I leave you with this quote that pretty much sums up S.A.D. for me:

"I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon."
- Unknown

Wish Me Luck

Since I gots no plans tonight I am thinking of upgrading my template. I have heard that it can be easy, and I have heard you can lose everything, so here goes nothing.

Well everything seemed to go ok. Maybe because I don't have many things on my blog (mostly because I don't know how to get all fancy like). I would still love to figure out how to change my header by adding a picture. That will have to wait for another day though. Laundry she is a calling.

Why am I so shocked?

When I was at work someone told me to check msn.com. The first thing I saw was the news headline that Anna Nicole Smith was dead. I was surprised and I don't know why. She is always in the news and rarely for good reasons. I don't know much about her, besides the gossipy crap on the entertainment news shows. But she was a mother who lost her son recently, and had a baby girl who needed her. I think that's what made me so sad, the thought of what will happen to the baby. Anna Nicole's life was turbulent, and even now the gossip shows are trying to squeeze all they can from her death. I hope she is at peace. And I pray her baby is protected and loved.

One scary faun, one un-marching band concert, and one dating dad. Must be my weekend recap.

I spent Super Bowl with my dad and his girlfriend. So weird writing that my dad has a girlfriend ( to my aunt and uncle who sometimes read this don't mention to him the g.f. or that I am weirded out). Thanks be her daughters were there, as was her 80 something year old father and his girlfriend (who I found out has schizophrenia. I found out after getting into a talk about schizophrenia with g.f.'s daughter while the g.f. was staring at us. In a word, awkward). But there was something magical in the air that day and for once the team I picked won something (I should have placed a bet). I am usually a curse on teams or horses (if I am at the races). And my luck continued when I realized I left my keys stuck in the door handle at my dad's house for about 7 hours. Surprisingly no one stole my car. Unsurprisingly, all my cd's were still there (not a big market for big band music and the greatest hits of the Bare Naked Ladies where my dad lives). That was the first time I have ever left my keys in the door handle. I have left them in my apt door over night, and even locked in the car. The funny thing was I knew something was weird, and as I drove away with my dad to g.f.'s house I reached in my purse for my keys, but then talked myself out of panicking. Dammit, Oprah was right and I do need to follow my instinct.

It was funny talking to g.f.'s daughters about how weird it was to have parents dating. I felt good hearing it freaked them out too. One of the daughters was funny. She said, "Don't get me wrong we really like your dad, and you too, and we haven't liked everyone mom has brought home." Good to know they like me too.

Also among this weekend's activities was a trip to see Pan's Labyrinth. I flinched and turned my head all the way through this movie. I couldn't even handle the non-scary moments because I was so panicky about being scared. I sat next to someone who has never seen this side of me before and I think it frightened him. Luckily, he had seen this movie before, and was okay with me whispering, "Just tell me how it ends dammit!" I had weird dreams that night and I blame this movie.

On Saturday we went to a band concert. I was thinking rocking music, but what I should have been thinking was John Sousa. Yes it was a marching band concert, sans marching. It was actually really fun, but I was under dressed in jeans, and all marches sound the same to me. Oh the conductor tried to explain the subtle differences (like one sounded more military, and one ore circusy), but it's all the same march in my ears. I am still boggled that people paid tens of thousands of dollars to have a march composed. But I actually think I want to attend the next one, since I know one of the musicians. It's all about embracing my inner geekness. I also had about a 30 second crush on a flute player (I have never seen a male flute player before and he was really cute in a geeky sort of way), but then I saw his ring and overheard someone mention his wife. No marching band romance for me. Another dream denied.

Sleeping Single in a Double Bed (at least there are no health code violations)

On Sunday I tag-team babysat Supermommy kids, and thanks be my cousin was there, because we had an incident of the explosive diarrhetic nature (supermommy's kid not me). I took one look at it coming down the pants of her oldest baby, and made a mad grab for the one who was drinking a bottle. Literally taking her from my cousin's hands and thinking to myself, "Sucka now you have free hands." Oh hell to the no! I am not ready to clean up stuff like that. I am not ready to clean anything that may have a whole health code protocol involved. Luckily my cousin is a special-ed teacher, and does not have the weak stomach I do (and she knows the proper protocol). I am so not ready for children. I talked to her today and the whole house has the stomach flu. I am dousing myself with EmergenC as I write this.


Speaking of things I am not ready for. Last night I was having a pity party for one when I realized that all my friends are in relationships. I am happy for them don't get me wrong, but it does have it's moments of pity party. Then this morning the pity party grew a little larger. My father called me and told me that he is dating someone. What the hell! Again happy for him and I really like who he is dating, but now to be the only single one in my friends and family makes it a pity banquet. On the menu tonight, whine and warm jello parfait. Thanks be it's therapy night!

Warm Jello For Dinner, Must Be The Early Bird Special...



So last night began with my friends and I finalizing plans to attend the symphony. I panicked because I had no idea what to wear. I pictured ball gowns and tuxes. Then I remembered where I live (small town, not a big cultural hub). I went with work attire (which is always painful to wear when you're not working). I was a little freaked because I had to park several blocks away from the concert, and the concert theatre is in a bad part of town. Images of stolen cars and mugging ran through my head as I tried to remember everything I learned on Oprah to prevent a kidnapping. Luckily I managed to make it to the restaurant without having to scream at the top of my lungs "that's my purse!" or run in a zig zag pattern to avoid being shot. The restaurant we chose is across the street from the theatre in a hotel. One would think that would have spelled easy supper. But not when the Dixieland Festival is town. I walked into AARP Command Central. There was a long line to the even put your name down for a table and standing in it I realized I was the youngest person by about 50 years. And I was the most casually dressed. I saw more seniors in mini skirts or short dresses than I ever have before (or hope to see again). And lots of snazzily dressed gents, escorting their lovely ladies. And the person behind me in line was knitting to pass the time. We talked as she knitted and she was hilarious. It was like talking to 70 year old me, because she made fun of what everyone was wearing, and she totally encouraged me to lie to get faster service. I hope I look as good as her at 70 (you know, as in have a great set of dentures and most of my hair), and still have a great sense of humor.

The food was okay. I chose the dinner buffet because the jello parfait looked good. Needless to say I chose poorly. We made it the symphony in plenty of time to get settled and I learned something about myself. I need lyrics attached to my music to stay focused. The classical pieces were beautiful, but I was not the best person to appreciate them. My mind kept wondering to what the musicians lives must be like, and the potential dramas that can surround first chair, assistant to first chair etc... I was also horrified/entertained by the French horn players who kept trying to get something out of their horns (my guess is it was partially chewed dinner or a really big spit wad). Next week we are having a movie night. Way more my speed.

Note To Self: Listen When People Say, "You Don't Want To Know"...

After the harrassment training being at work was funny. Someone called me dear (she calls everyone in the office dear) and then immediately aplogized as I stood there laughing. At least she didn't call me sweet cheeks or baby doll.

Thursday night I went to dinner at a friends house and learned something I can definitely never say at work. Someone there was descibing a recent trip with his friends, and how a one of the gals (as a word I can't use at work anymore) made it a point to use the words "meat curtain" as often as she could (as well as ass and the f-bomb). I asked him what a meat curtain was, and he looked at me and said "you really don't want to know." He knows me well. Better than I know myself. I lasted all of 1 minute and stated I really needed to know. He told me. And I was wrong, I didn't need to know. Dammit janet now I can't get it out of my head.

Last night I finally had the Arbonne party I should have had 2 months ago. I bought way too much food, and had a blast. People came I don't know very well and I was surprised at how much fun I had. I was also surprised that anyone besides myself bought anything, and that they wanted to have their own parties. So my attendance at Arbonne parties is pretty much set through spring.

Tomorrow I will be tagteam babysitting Supermommy's kids nad I can't wait. She called me this morning to ask if I was free. Then she toold me that her son's new favorite game is "I spy." To make it more challenging on mere adults he picks imaginary things. The last thing she told me before she hung up was, "If he says he sees something green there is a dinosaur in the room." Can't wait.

The Things I Learn At Work

Today during a work meeting on harassment I began to worry. Should I have sent out the Sarah Silverman jokes yesterday? Should I have repeated Sacha Baron Cohen's speech from the Golden Globes? Should I have acted out a scene from Bad Santa at a lunch meeting? Am I nothing more than a giant walking harasser? And then I realized (after thoughts of being fired or labeled a harasser ran through my mind) that I work with people who do all these things too. So no, I am not a harasser. Either that or we will all get arrested and sued together. It could really go either way.

Oh and I learned that since I work in the public domain I shouldn't wear a short skirt with no underwear (a la Britney Spears), because even in the off hours we are representing. I filed that under 'things I should have known this morning as I was getting dressed.'

Happy Place Don't Fail Me Now

Well it took about 10 minutes to get over my anger. After signing off I began reading my mail and I noticed I got two catalogs, so I was excited. The catalogs I usually get are Pottery Barn and The Land of Nod. This was no PB or LON. This was also not a catalog for me as I have since learned. It looked like a work out magazine, and I was excited (thinking I might have signed up for something). Then I read it, and found the list of sexual toys and various other sex aides, and realized this magazine was for my NEIGHBOR!!! My, works for PBS, dresses like my grandma (and she is a grandma), lives with her adult (creepy) son, Neighbor. And now I have to give her the catalog, and try not to laugh (or blush) as I do it. Now when ever she gets a package, I'll wonder what aide she ordered. EWWWWWWW!!!! This wouldn't creep me out so much if I didn't see her as a mom (and grandma). Shuddering. I know it is juvenile, but I just don't want to picture grandma's having healthy sex lives. They should be playing piano and making pies (which is how I used to picture her life). Wish me luck I am going over. (taking catalog over...) Well her (creepy) son answered the door and then proceeded to LOOK through the catalog. Luckily he didn't see the Karma Sutra pages. Laughter averted.

Evaluate This!

So today I had a presentation at my job. First off I suck at public speaking. My voice gets cracky (like Peter Brady going through puberty), I get really cold (I mean my hands feel frozen), and I can't talk (as in say my own name). In other words it is a lovely time for everyone concerned. It went about as well as I expected. I couldn't feel my hands, my mouth got really dry, and I stuttered. To top it off I was presenting child therapy to people who don't really believe in this type of therapy. So from the very title of my power point I took shit from people. As in: "Is that really a disorder? Where is it listed in the DSM? Can you tell me?" That was a direct comment by a really nice (snorting) student. They were a tough crowd to say the least. To top it off, these people who don't do my type of work, then get to evaluate how well I know my client, my theory, and my research on everything. I knew better than to read the evals, I really did. But then I read them. Most were really positive, but there then I read the one that stuck with me all day. This comment made me so mad, because this person was not paying one bit of attention to anything, and then marked me low on something I never even said. Deep breath. Sigh. It's funny how I can read a lot of positive things, and the one negative (albeit ignorant) one is what I think about all day. It would also help if I didn't already have a history with this person. That's what I get for thinking that things were finally settling down. Well I only have 6 months and 11 days of my program left, so maybe the best thing to do is just suck it up. After, of course, I emailed the admin. assistant and lodged my complaint of the low score. Student first people. Student first. Thanks be this is the only presentation I will have to do for these people.


So after my really fun morning I went shopping. I heart retail therapy. I am now the proud owner of 3 new books, and I bought a present for a friend. I even mailed out right away too. I think I will go read now.

What It Took to Make My First Weight Loss Goal

10 months
3 infections
3 rounds of antibiotics
1 diagnosis of HBP plus meds for this (which I am happy to say is down again)
Laying off the soda, coffee, mochas, and anything one can buy at Starbucks (goodbye mocha fraps I loved you long time)
Laying off cheeseburgers, french fries, chocolate icecream, chocolate cake, chocolate pie, and candy (damn their yumminess)
Eating chicken salads everyday for lunch (at least as of the last 5 days and I have to say pretty yummy)
Eating cheerios everyday for breakfast (unless I am eating oatmeal that day, and convincing myself of the yumminess every damn morning)
Finally listening to my dad's advice about flaxseed and oatmeal (but knowing I am not quite ready to hear about figs and Caesar salads-vurping just writing this)
Charting my weight on the WW (unless it was a week I gained, then no charting for me)
Eating more fruit (te amo berries, no te quiero coconut)
Eating more vegetables (te amo corn and peas, no te quiero brussel sprouts)
Walking (especially entertaining having the used condom count as a part of my walk so far up to 3)
YBB (Yoga Booty Ballet-my method of trying to become graceful-no grace yet, but I haven't fallen, but let's face it, I do desperately clutch a chair and pray)
Did I mention no more sodas? I really miss them (especially the cherry vanilla ones, or just cherry, or any soda)
Eating more dark chocolate (hell yeah-it's good for you-and only an ounce at a time)

And did I mention I have even lost more weight than the WW first goal!!!!! Yeah for me! Now on to the next goal. How about wellness for a while? I might have set the bar too high with that goal.

Things to Know Before You Go To a Hockey Game

Dear Me,

Here are important things to know, like it's not really that cold, so you don't have to wear sweats and silk long underwear. Bring your own water (unless you want to pay 7.00 for two 20 ounce bottles). This probably isn't your sport, as you don't like violence or dancing in my seat for the chance to make the fan shots. Watching people get smashed against the glass or get smashed on expensive cups of cheap beer is not your thing. Especially when you are drinking water, and you directly behind a 6 year old who screams obscenities at the other team. All night long. Lastly, fear of flying pucks hitting your teeth (I have slow reaction times) will occupy your mind all night, causing you to flinch uncontrollably every time the puck is airborne.


So far my 3 day weekend is going well. I spent last night with my dad and his friends again. All the quarters from the game once again went to me (they all remembered the agony of paying for laundry). It was also my second night at resisting temptation (namely chocolate cake, chocolate pie, and icecream). Tonight I am having dinner at my mom's and I asked them to have chicken salad, so hopefully it will not be a fried chicken and fried vegetable salad (my g-ma's been known to make those). I slept in today till noon today. Fabulous indeed. And today I am watching season one of Arrested Development. I heart this show. Later I will clean my second bedroom out. I am still convincing myself it will be fun.

Still Sick...

Haven't felt like posting this week. I have made my second trip to urgent care in 3 weeks. On Tuesday it felt like my lungs were burning and I missed a meeting at work to go to urgent care. This time the diagnosis was bronchitis, but my blood pressure was high, so they wanted to do an ekg. That was fun. I kept imagining the doctor coming in to tell me that the ambulance was ready to take me to the hospital. When the doctor came back in to tell me I could go back to work, and I had to ask him how it went. He was like "oh your heart is fine." But since this was the second reading of high blood pressure I am now on meds. High blood pressure runs in my family, but I am seriously hoping that when I eventually lose all the extra weight I am carrying I can get off of them. My boss said I could take the day off today and that was nice. I went to my general doctor, and talked about different medicine options. I also tried to go to a "woman doctor" as my dad calls them, but found out my insurance doesn't cover annual exams (only sickness and injury). Swell. A perk of feeling crappy is that I am only a couple of pounds away from making my first weight goal. Yeah. Today was the first day I really wanted to eat anything. Thanks be this is a three day weekend. I want to have a couple of days of feeling good under my belt before I start back at work.

Every Party Should Be A Teeth Optional Party


I can't believe it's 2007 already. I have been trying to think of some great thing to say about the new year, but after spending a week in bed, and still desperately clutching my Kleenex box (for fear that I will laugh out a loogie on a client), I got nothing. 2006 was good. I finished my dissertation and got an internship, so my goals were met. I also lost weight (slower than molasses falling in January, but I lost). Being sick with a double infection really made all the holiday weight drop which was cool. I am apprehensive of making a specific goal or a resolution for the New Year, because I am notorious for breaking resolutions. So I guess my goal is to keep on keeping on (which I personally think is a sweet goal).

Thankfully I was feeling well enough to go out New Year's Eve. And I went to a party my dad was invited too. That might seem dorky to some but it was hilarious (and since I couldn't drink anyway why not hang out with a bunch of farmers). I played cards sitting next to the biggest smack talker ever. He looked to be 65 or 70, and he basically insulted everyone at the table (he also totally cheated the whole night by looking at my cards, but I let that go). Next to him was a man who was 83 and because we were in his house decided not to wear his teeth that night (good house rule). He was a sweetheart and made conversation with me by telling me about every one of my family members he has seen while farming. He went all the way back to my great grandfather (whom he called Mr. Smith). When I told him one of my uncles got out of farming and works at a ski summit his eyes got all squinty. It was a great party, and not just because I won all the prizes at the card table (in the game we played you won prizes for losing and I won them all!) My dad ended up winning all the money (quarters) and gave them to me, so I basically kicked ass. It was funny because it ended up being my dad against a 7 year old (everyone else losing all their money), and then my dad won. I thought for sure he would give the girl all the money but he gave it to me. I decided she needed to learn a lesson (gambling is wrong) and well, I needed laundry money. Quarters are gold.

One last question. I was talking to Supermommy tonight and we were thinking it would be fun if she guest posted. Does anyone know how she can guest post?

How I Spent My Christmas Vacation....

So far I have been sick. As if having a cold wasn't enough, I developed an infection and was in urgent care at 7 am this morning. Needless to say my vacation has been a vast wasteland of Kleenex and empty emergenC packets. And now my regimen involves antibiotics. Antibiotics that make me gag everytime I have to take one (twice a day). I never thought I would say this but I can't wait to go back to work.

As for Christmas, I am happy to say it was nice. Aside from the fact that I lost my voice due to all the talking (I'm telling you this entire vacation has revolved around sickness). I got some random presents (like a girls size hat, glove and scarf set from my grandma) but overall most of the presents were useful and cool. My dad got me the antiaging set from Arbonne. Which is something I totally wanted, but would have never bought on my own. From my mom I got a ton of movie tickets (which I totally love but haven't been able to use yet) and a ton of socks (which I have used). Everyone seemed to love the presents I got them, even though I got the wrong size shoes for my mom. Dammit Janet.

Yesterday, before I realized I had the infection, I felt well enough to get my flat tire fixed. I called AAA and someone came out really fast, and put my spare on in 10 minutes tops. I broke a vow and went to Walmart to get the flat fixed. I haven't stepped foot in Walmart in about 2 years, but the previous owner of my car had a lifetime warranty on the tires. That was too good of a deal. When I got to Walmart the tire guy was nice until he said that all the warranty covered was fixing the flat, not putting it back on my car. For them to actually put it back on I would have had to drive it in flat. What the hell. I asked him what I was supposed to do. He told me to have my husband put the tire back on. While I was flattered he thought anyone would marry me the way I looked (real sexy with a runny red nose and unwashed hair), I had to tell him there was no man in my life. Nothing makes you feel like gold then admitting that to the walmart tire guy while your nose is running. He told me he would talk to his manager and to come back in 2 hours. I came back and the nice tire guy told me that they would put the tire back on. I just needed to leave my car with them for 30 minutes. At this point I am beginning to realize I am sicker than just a cold, and entering Walmart was probably not the wisest move I could make. And I probably shouldn't have used their restroom either (but at least it made me remember why I made the vow in the first place). 30 minutes later I walk back to express tire and lube (finding nothing express about waiting for 2.5 hours to get a flat fixed and placed back on my car). The nice tire guy tells me my car is done, and so I walk to it. The first thing I notice is the tire is not right. I asked someone where my hubcap was, and he looked at me and said, "That tire didn't come with a hubcap". Well then I asked him where my spare was, and it was at that point I realized they had taken the spare off and then put it right back on. Nice. Then it took 4 men to find my tire and then another 15 minutes to put the right tire on. 3 hours later I made my way home. Thanks Walmart.


For some reason I am actually looking forward to New Year's. I like to think I will be better by then, but heaven knows what else will happen to me.

How To Tell You're On The Naughty List...

As if it is not enough to be sick on Christmas I also have a flat tire. Thanks Santa. I think it's safe to say my name is not on the nice list this year. So while I am waiting for my mom to pick me up so I can spend Christmas Eve with her and my grandma I thought I would offer a story of love this Christmas season.

As told to me by Supermommy:

All her toddler wanted from Santa was a present wrapped in green paper. Doesn't matter what the present is, all he wanted was for it to be wrapped in green paper. In the Supermommy household there was lots of red and silver wrapping paper, but nary a green roll to be found. So she did what any loving mother would do and when her darling child was asleep ran to the store to get green wrapping paper. Did I mention it was also raining like crazy outside? I really hope he likes his present wrapped in green paper tomorrow. Supermommy also told me that her toddler was only getting one present from Santa at their house, since our grandmother goes crazy with the presents at Christmas. Since her baby is only 7 months old she also mentioned not getting her anything, but she wondered what her toddler would think. I told her that she should say the baby was naughty this year, so Santa didn't bring her anything. It's becoming clear how I made the naughty list!

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!

The Ghost of Christmas Past


As a child I was sick a lot during the holidays. Christmas, Easter, my birthday, you name it. Horrifically sick at that. I would have to stay in my room and not get to go to my grandparents house and get presents from Santa (my parents would bring them to my room). It sucked big time. Even in undergrad I would get sick every winter after finals. I attribute all this to stress and excitement. Well today was the beginning of my week off work, and as I was doing some last minute shopping I began sneezing. I am not usually a person who sneezes, so I now this is the beginning of my holiday cold. As I wrap the presents I bought today, I will drink from my Airborne and orange juice. Sweet healing nectar. I just hope I feel good enough to finish shopping tomorrow. One more store and I am done shopping. Yeah! Too bad the store I need to go to is in the mall. Dangit.

Would You Rather Dress Like An Elf For The Rest Of Your Life Or Have A Glowing Red Nose

Just when I think I am done Christmas shopping, I found out I need to find presents for 5 more people. Which means I will be braving the mall tomorrow. Hopefully I will wake up early enough to get there before it is busy, but I am really not a wake up early kind of gal. So far the weather is sunny, and it is just beginning to get cold (as in 50 degrees cold, not like snowed in cold). I am trying to keep up with the wrapping, and right now my living room looks like a roll of wrapping paper gave birth to small frayed ribbon pieces.

So far the best gift I have given has been the book Would You Rather. I used to play this game with friends in college, but I never knew there was a book of disgusting and funny ideas. I bought it for a friend of mine who is taking a road trip for the holidays. I had it at work with me and made everyone play at lunch.

And the same friend gave me the 2007 Anne Taintor Calender which is awesome. I already have it up in my kitchen. I have 6 more hours of work and then I am off for one week (which is like a Christmas miracle to me).

I hope everyone has a happy whatever they celebrate. I can't wait to post about my crazy holiday.

Check This Out...


If you have a chance this weekend check this site outHer Bad Auction. It's a raffle for a great cause.

Cracking My Sweet Nuts...


Last night I went walking with Supermommy and her family down a neighborhood that was uber decorated for Christmas. In my group there were two preschoolers in a red wagon, one baby in a stroller and one in a baby carrier. I had no kids, as I am prone to falling. I did manage not to lose my party, and that felt like an accomplishment for me.

My evening started out by visiting my grandmother (she was nice enough to let us park at her house). I walked in as she was watching the Catholic channel, specifically a show called, "Sunday Night Live." A show similar to "Saturday Night Live" but without the funny skits, famous guest hosts, and it's hosted by two monks. Pretty much the same show. Anyway the shows topic was marriage. Being a single gal, walking in to this scene was like entering the perfect storm. I was grilled about my thoughts on marriage like I was on trial. She eventually decided I was a hopeless case when I told her I believe in prenups. It was a funny conversation and I am glad to know that my radical ideas on marriage will keep her spotlight off me (grin). Thanks be we never talked about post nups (totally a fan).

The walk was great. I only got kicked by one child (twice, and not even family). I also didn't fall or trip, and my knee only gave out once so it was a fabulous walk. At one point I even did a throw up check of the baby in the carrier, and I am glad to report there was no vomit. The kids were funny too. In the red wagon there were two boys one 4ish the other 2.5 y.o. The younger one has a propensity to hit when angered (as kids his age are apt to do), but every so often I would catch the older one goading him on. At one point he was taunting the younger one by saying "You've been naughty" over and over. I had to laugh, because that's the phrase that strikes fear in the heart of every child in my family this time of year.

We also met the first mean Santa I have ever seen. He was not at all child friendly, and talk about the wrong career to have when kids piss you off. One kid asked Santa if he knew what his name was and Santa looked at him and said "Trouble maker." He would shake hands with the kids and then yell at them to move away. I am still laughing about this.

I was also told my Supermommy's husband (we'll call him Ponch) that I was like a Nut Cracker. I didn't make the leap in caring, listening, empathetic to Nut Cracker. Unless he meant to imply the mind is the nut, then I totally get it. And telling him I prefer the term ball buster over nut cracker seems now inappropriate and wrong. The title of this post is actually what Ponch said to me at one point.

It would have been the perfect holiday event, if I hadn't yelled at a driver in front of me on my way to the event. I called him a "fucking good Samaritan." He was really was a jerk driver letting people in, while I waited in one spot for 15 minutes. The drive home was also a beast. I hate holiday traffic.

I am also happy to report that I did a big chunk of holiday shopping today at work. I went on etsy and found some great things for friends and family. I think I am almost done shopping. It's great having a slow week at work. Here's hoping the presents get here before the 25th or we will be celebrating the 12 days of Christmas (and I am pretty sure I won't find partridges and lords a leaping on etsy).

The Upside of Anger


In general I am a social cleaner only (as in I only clean when I know for a fact people are coming over.) The only exception to this rule is I clean when angry. The madder I am correlates to the amount of things I will clean. Last night I cleaned out 2 closets, cleaned off my dining room table, and straightened the living room (sort of). I would have done more, but at that point it was midnight and I didn't want to wake my neighbors. It is totally a cathartic experience to get rid of crap. I think I threw away 4 garbage bags full of stuff that either didn't work, or I didn't want in the first place. I still have more to do, and I really hope therapy tonight isn't a buzz kill on my anger, or my bedroom (and everything but the dining room) will never get organized. So what is your upside of anger?

Would You Like Butt Hairs With Those Skin Peels?


I had to go to my father's house yesterday and pick up a check. He had just come from a crazy dinner, and I was guessing he would need to be talked down. Sure enough I was there for 3 hours. So much for going to bed early. While I was there he said several things that grossed me out but here are the top three:

1) He has a friend who owns a restaurant and he has mentioned that she is not the cleanest person and it can gross him out. She was burned by grease about 2 months ago and is still healing from the burns. Apparently the burn on her head can itch her (which is normal for burns I think), but she will pick at it while she is cooking. Now several people have mentioned to her that this is gross, but she keeps doing it. According to my dad she likes freaking people out (either that or she likes visits from health inspectors).

2) Same lady: My dad walked in recently to have lunch and they were talking as she was making it. As she is talking she puts her hand in the back of her pants, scratches her ass, and then continues cooking. I was all but throwing up in my mouth as he told the story so I didn't get to ask if he ate the meal or not...

3) I guess payback's a bitch. When I got back from the coast I made fun of my dad for freaking out when I talked about having kids. I will make fun no longer. He told me that his massage therapist asked him on a date. He told her that he thought he was older than her father, and she said yup, but age is only a hang up in your mind. He agreed that it freaked him out, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings. So my father tried to make it more of a group date (with other therapists in the practice), and he agreed to take them to dinner. She is 2 years younger than me. 2 years. And my dad is 5 years older than her father. I get that this is not a serious date, but nonetheless, it's freaking me out.

Since last night I have been searching for my happy place, but apparently there is no place safe from thoughts of skin and butt in my food.

I wish the Wiseman would bring me coffee...


When I was on the coast and playing with the buddha baby my biological clock began making noises. It was a faint hum to the tune of "this could be nice." I almost gave my father a heart attack when I said it out loud. His eyes got big and all he could do was shake his head and repeat, "you are never having kids." The man is in for a shock one day, but not anytime soon.

Yesterday I baby sat a 2.5 year old and a 6 month old, and well, they kicked my ass. Both of them were great (aside from the fact that the baby was very mad that I was there and not mommy), we played, we baked Christmas cookies, and we even read stories. I also learned that Cranky the crane is a wonderful thing, and that one of the wiseman got down on one knee and said to the baby Jesus "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus I brought you Coffee." I love the fact that I live so close to my cousin that I can babysit, because she has a wonderful family, but my gosh I was exhausted after 4 hours. The other times I babysat the baby was asleep, so I only had to entertain the older child. I woke up today and my arms were sore (totally counting it as a workout), there was soggy cheezeits and baby stuff on my pants.

Supermommy (which is my new name for my cousin) is a champ for everything she does everyday. We laughed when she got home because at one point I had both kids in my lap, holding on to both and the bottle I was feeding the baby was tucked under my chin. She was working yesterday and when she got home she even made dinner. I felt like an exhausted jackass for not thinking of dinner. But I could barely remember my own name by 7pm.

So this one is for Supermommy. You are amazing, your kids are wonderful, and thanks for the fabulous dinner. You rock. Happy (early) Birthday!!!

Why I will never be employee of the week...

In case you are wondering, this is probably not the most appropriate thing to do at work during a staff meeting.

Our staff meeting yesterday got off to a late start. And somehow instead of talking about all things professional and smart we began speaking of holiday stuff. This then turned to our favorite holiday movies and someone mentioned Elf. I love this movie and can quote it at the drop of a hat. So I said some of my favorite lines (such as, you sit on a throne of lies or I like to smile, smilings my favorite.)

Then someone mentioned Bad Santa and it was in this moment I lost all sense of decorum. There is a scene in that movie that makes me laugh every time I think about (it when the little person in the movie is asked to move a passed out Santa and he is curious as to how that will be accomplished). So of course I say it, forgetting the huge number of times f-bombs are dropped. Luckily I caught myself and only said fu... instead of the whole word, but everyone got my point. This scene is made even worse by the fact that I am also laughing so hard I am about to start wheezing and crying. This moves into a conversation about movies and gender preferences. As I come down from my laughing, f-bomb filled high I realize just how unprofessional I was in that moment.

Another thing that I probably shouldn't do at work is blog this story instead of writing a report. No gold star for me this week. Unless they are passing them out for most f-bombs dropped in one staff meeting, then I would for sure win.

Disease of the Week (it's more exciting and more reliable than my attempts at book of the week)

Last week there was a break from the sickness that invades my office. Maybe because I was only at work for 2 days. Well today Valley Fever walked into my office. I don't know what it is, and to be honest I am afraid to look. Looking up Scarlet Fever on WebMD scared the crap out of me. Instead of online Christmas shopping I think I am going to look for Hazmat suits. And possibly investing in the Airborne company.

1 large latte with 5 packets of sugar, 2 cinnabons, and 3 cheese on a stick-- it must be lunch time at the coast

While this wasn't my lunch it was consumed by my aunt while we were shopping (umm food court). I am sad to report I did not have a cinnabon this year. I was under some false impression that by not eating one cinnabon I would not gain any weight. I gained more tablespoons of butter than I would care to think about, but it was worth it. We went to a restaurant for Thanksgiving dinner and I swear they served donuts as the first appetizer. Most of my family is a member of the WW, and it became a donut massacre. One person only ate half of their donut hole and had to choose who would get the other half. It almost turned ugly. They also served chocolate chips, whipped cream, and cinnamon with every cup of coffee. It was delicious. If you can't tell I am back to eating sensibly, and it will take me about a day to not be so food obsessed.

My mini vacation was great. It took my father and I about 4 hours to travel to a place that is only 2.5 hours away. And no I didn't get to sleep a wink. But I did have a rousing conversation about the price of crops (sucks to be a farmer), and whether or not Hilary will be president (definitely maybe).

The coast was beautiful. Here at home it has been so dreary, spending 4 days in the sun was fabulous. I even got a back tan (I always forget to roll over when I lay out). The company was fabulous too. Everyone was in a great mood, and there was a lot of laughing. Even on the last day I was able to laugh as my uncle began to yell "everyone needs to just stop eating. How can we finish cleaning if you keep eating." To which I asked him to hand me something out of the fridge. Maybe you had to be there.

I also got to spend a lot of time with my cousins which I loved. At one point I was talking to a cousin about who she should marry, Kevin Kinkirk (from seventh heaven) or Brad Pitt. My cousin still sleeps with her parents, so my choice was Brad. Laughingly I told her mom, the new family bed could be my cousin, brad, his kids and her parents. Again I think you had to be there.

Another cousin also came with his 5 month old baby who is so adorable. He is a little Buddha baby and just had the best time being held by everyone. I know he loved me the best though because he threw up on me 3 times (I am taking that to mean he felt very safe and secure in my arms). We also had fun making up new names for the baby. Heavy lunch and bunch of lunch were my two favorites. I can't wait to see bunch of lunch again.

On our last day we went to church (and very early I must say). My father and I were a little late and standing in the back. I assumed we would stand for the entire service. During the last 10 minutes my father decides he wants to sit down. This was during a very quiet point and we totally disrupted this gentleman sitting at the end of a pew. We totally ruined his whole service, and when it came time to offer peace to one another, he did so very grudgingly. He then booked it right after communion. After the service my dad made a joke about how many people he could run over or startle by honking. We also laughed about how mad we made the guy who had to move. Not our holiest moment, but it was funny.

The drive home went by a little faster. It only took us 3.5 hours. The funny part is that we stopped for a half an hour when we were about 10 minutes from home. 10 minutes. I had a good snowman cookie though, so I have no complaints. I miss it already (the coast and the snowman cookie.)

So far I have lost 576 tablespoons of butter (which is how my friend measures her weight loss)


I have to share because I am excited. I have been on Weight Watchers (or the WW as I like to call them) for almost a year now. I haven't been the best at it (trying to follow points and study for finals is more than my brain can handle). But I am pleased to say that as of today I am only 6 pounds away from my first goal. Here's hoping I can resist eating 4500 calories worth of stuffing (my biggest thanksgiving weakness). I am working really hard (or thinking about working hard) to reach a goal by May (when one of my good friends gets married). If I have to go to the wedding alone, then I would like to be a little skinnier (and richer, and tanner, but those are really beyond me). Anyhoo, I had better go back to packing. We haven't left yet for the coast because of the fog outside, and I have not packed a thing yet.

Are We There Yet???

In about 20 hours I am headed for my Thanksgiving vacation. Me and my dad driving to the coast where most of my family will be spending Thanksgiving. I am so excited I can't even stand it. Here's to a 4 hour car trip with Murph, driving to a place that is only about 3 hours away (Murph likes to take his time). I like to believe I will get to sleep, but no doubt he will bring up some political something and I will get mad. I am also hoping we can listen to music this trip. He's a talk radio kind of man, and that is nothing more than a form of torture for me. This year I am bringing a secret weapon. I have 2 Beatles cd's and I know by playing them I will get the history of each song, at least it's not Rush Limbaugh.

I can't wait to see the ocean, but the best part of this trip is that for 5 days I get to spend time with my family. I always feel so busy with work and school, so to just be able to sit and talk with my grandmother, or play with my youngest cousin (who's like 5 months old and a total Buddha baby) is a blessing. I love that we have a huge dinner in a restaurant somewhere. Hopefully everyone has a great meal (lets not forget the French fiasco that was last year). But even the bad meals are wonderful because of the company. I also love that on Friday we will go shopping, and every year I have ideas of grandeur. I think I am going to get all my Christmas shopping done, but in reality I will probably only get a cinnabon (for myself, not a gift).

I hope everyone has a safe and happy Thanksgiving. I hope you have great food and better company, and of course, a cinnabon on Friday.

I want to leave you with this thought. My coworker just came in and told me that on average people eat about 4500 calories during Thankgiving dinner. Yummy.

"Maybe Scarlet Fever. It's a better color for Christmas"-- A Christmas in Connecticut



Since beginning my new job a lot of my clients have been sick. It started out slowly with a cold here or the flu there. Then came pink eye, and my office was scrubbed down and Lysol'ed for the greater good. So I come into work today (all the while counting down to Wednesday when I leave for Thanksgiving break), and I find out my client with a fever last week who went home early had SCARLET FEVER!! WTF is this???? Sounds deadly.

Okay so I looked it up on WebMD and it is form of strep throat (the form that Beth got in the Little Women). On that site it never talked about adults getting it, but even writing that just feels like a dare to the Gods.

I am frightened of what the next two days will bring. I am guessing Monkey Pox. Anyone else care to make a guess? I think next year I will try and work for the CDC. What cracks me up is that no other person in this office has seen the sickies like I have. I must be sending out a message to the universe.

A Moral dilemma

WWYD if....

You had a really expensive bottle of lotion...
You bought it but realized you couldn't wear it because the smell made a migraine worser than worse....
So you offered to give it to a friend...
And then your cleaning lady came...
And moved it....
You didn't know she moved it...
And you accidentally knocked it in the toilet....
But the toilet was exceptionally CLEAN (thanks cleaning lady)...
You fished it out real quick...
And the top was on the whole time (and no water got into the lotion as far as you can tell)...

So...
Do you still give it to your friend (without telling her), because you know that if you tell her she will throw it out and you HATE wasting money...
(and this post does not apply to anyone local who reads it- I promise!!!)?
So how would you handle this....

I may be smart, but I'm no Nancy Drew (or the mystery of the sweet smelling dead lady)


Well I finally figured out the maple brown sugar oatmeal smell (in case you were wondering). I couldn't shake it all night, and to be honest I was beginning to worry. In my head this could only mean one of two things: a) I was either having an olfactory halluncination, which is not good. Or b) I had some strange disease that, as my body is slowly decomposing, (and my eyes begin to melt away) lets off a sweet oatmeal smell (I would have hoped it would be called Quakerbola and not Monkey Virus #5), which would also not be good. There's worst case scenario's, then there is what I come up with.

The smell turned out to be neither a psychotic break or Quakerbola. Rather it was the ear drops I put in my ear last night. Weird that my ear drops smell like breakfast. But I am glad I am not dying.

Oh and something funny for my local readers. Every Monday night one news station asks local doctors what they are treating most that week. Most doctors said strep throat and the flu or colds, but one doctor actually said strep throat, flu like symptoms and Chlamydia. The news caster then stated, "Chladmydia is the number one most common STD." I guess having oatmeal smelling ears isn't so bad anymore.

"Tiger, I can't sleep" (alternate title: I think Death smells like maple brown sugar oatmeal)


When I can't sleep I think of that episode from Kipper in which good old Kip has insomnia. I went home early today because I woke up feeling crappy. All muscles aching and upset stomach. It seems everyone in my family has the flu, but I haven't been around them so how the heck did I get sick? I made it as long as I could and then went home an hour early. I took a hot bath and tried to sleep but I kept waking up. At 9 I conceded defeat and got out of bed. Weird but I kept smelling what I thought was maple brown sugar oatmeal. I can't figure it out, since I haven't eaten oatmeal in a week. So my best guess is death is following me. Or maybe my sense of smell is off and what I am really smelling are the muffins I made yesterday. It could really go either way. I am going to make my second attempt at sleep. Wish me luck, as I have to wake up early to make up for leaving early.

Ebay here I come...

I have a lot of crap. Crap that was given to me by my mother mostly, although some other "gifts" I have received from friends and other family members are making it into my crap pile. I wasn't sure what to do with it, and finally decided to try selling it on Ebay. I have no experience selling things on Ebay so any advice anyone has is greatly appreciated. And if anyone is looking for gold moccasins size 10 drop me a line. Here goes nothing....

It's Shat-rageous!!! (alternate title to this post: ("You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means" -the Princess Bride).



I was all set to write this depressing post about my family life. My day was not great to begin with: it started off with me taking a walk and seeing a used condom on the ground (okay that was gross and a little funny if I am being honest). Then I went to vote, and I totally forgot my practice ballot and I forgot how I was going to vote on some issues and voted wrong. Then I had a sinus headache that wouldn't go away. It all cumulated in a phone call to my mom. I made the damn call so I have no one to blame but myself, but it was still sucky. My mom is not doing well today and talking to her for 15 minutes almost made me cry the whole way home. So here I am driving depressed, and trying not to cry and I swear every song on the radio was sad (Thanks to Barenaked Ladies, The Fray, Daniel Powter, and Matt Kearney for the music). In a way it helped (I sang it out), but my mood didn't improve until I made a great meal of spaghetti squash with marinara, mushrooms, and Italian sausage. So maybe the depressed feelings could have been explained by intense hunger (and the freaking fact that I am once again doing weight watchers, and all I want is a quarter pounder with cheese), or the fact that I am PMSing like nobody's business (I have already cried on the way home from work a few nights over the last several days). Either way drive home sucked, and I was sad. I was just beginning to blog about my great saga of a day, when I heard this phase on ABC advertising William Shatner's new game (Show Me the Money): "You don't know Shat!" Wait...What did they say...Doesn't that mean what I think it means?!?!? The commercial went on to talk about how it was going to be "Shat-rageous!" and "Shat-eriffic!" By now I am snorting, but not 100% sure this means what I think it means. So I looked it up on dictionary.com and here is the official definition:

Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.
American Heritage Dictionary - Cite This Source
shat shitt) Pronunciation Key
v. Vulgar Slan.
A past tense and a past participle of shit.

Yep, I was right!!! Thanks ABC you made my night. When I am sad or depressed in the future I am going to think "shat-rageous" How in the hell did this pass through the ranks of ABC to become a national commercial? I am still smiling. Even though the election results in my state are starting to come out and so far the man I want for Governor and Lt..Gov. are not winning. All I can say is it's freaking shat-eriffic!

Driving Miss Emily


I will admit that I watched Oprah and Gayle's big cross country adventure with a sense of wonderment and awe. How cool would it be to travel cross country with someone you love? This has been on my list of things to do before I die for a long time now. As of Sunday my list of potential people to travel with shortened by one. I could barely make it 12 hour adventure with my mother (Emily), traveling only 3 hours away from home.

My brother's birthday was Sunday. He is a year younger than me (we are Irish twins) and he lives about 3 hours away from me with his girlfriend and her young son. My mother called me last week and asked what I thought of driving up to see him for his birthday. I wasn't thrilled with the idea to say the least. But I knew she would need a driver so I told her I would drive her up if she wanted to go. I made guesses to myself the night before about how much longer this trip would take, because my mother likes to stop a lot for smoking and bathroom breaks. Without fail she will also need to stop where the only thing around is the grossest/scariest place to try and urinate without picking up a random toilet disease.

Well we left town only 45 minutes off schedule, after convincing my mother my car didn't need to be washed because it was only going to get dirtier as we travel. She also travels with her special blend of soda (1/2 black cheery vanilla coke, 1/2 diet rite in case your interested in the recipe), carrying enough for a two week adventure.

The way up went pretty smooth. At the second stop she decided she wanted breakfast, Jack in the Box here we come. I don't eat a lot of Jack in the box, and never have I had their breakfast, but I think I know what to expect. Teenagers taking my order who give really give a flying you know what, food made quickly also by someone who could care less, and a sense of bloating after consuming the 3000 calorie breakfast sandwich. Here's what I encountered but did not expect from Jack; about 3 million flies trying to bum a free meal (both in the restaurant and outside, my theory is someone killed Jack and his body is slowly decomposing by the fries), the man/boy who took the order to then wipe his nose on his sleeve several times (thanks be he did not touch Emily's food), and to wait 15 minutes for a breakfast sandwich to go). I felt ill watching mom eat her fried egg sandwich. Thanks Jack.

We made three more stops before we eventually hit our destination. Once again mapquest left out pertinent information regarding my driving directions, but being on to their tricks, I called my brother's g.f. at the first sign of trouble.

The family lunch went as well as can be expected. My mother is in a place of remembering the past, which can be heart warming and funny. Like, "remember when you and Kevin threw my spanking spoons away, so I couldn't spank you anymore?" (true story, and while the spankings were never reportable or anything, to this day I can't have a white plastic spoon in my kitchen) or "remember when you (my brother) sold all my gold necklaces to kids in the neighborhood for $1 a piece?" Ahh the memories. At one point my mom asked my brothers g.f. how her tootsies (feet) are doing (since she is pregnant with twins more to come). I heard my mom say it, and I knew what she meant, but I also know it sounded a lot like titties and that is apparently what the g.f heard, and what she commented on. I sat in between them, frozen in my uncomfortableness trying desperately to reach my happy place. Finally we all had a good laugh about the misunderstanding, and it's safe to say we all know more than we should about her ta-ta's.

Not to eat and run, but I was so tired after lunch, and knew we had a long drive ahead of us, all I wanted to do was leave. But first we had to have cake and icecream back at their place. I also got to watch as my brother gave my mom hid g.f.'s old shorts and state they were her old maternity clothes, but we think they'll fit you. I laughed inside at my brother's lack of good taste, and knew my mom was pissed. We left about 2 hours later than I wanted to.

The ride home truly was hell on earth. The nice thing about everyone getting together is talking about the past, but with my mom it also dregs up all the bad memories, and she has no filter. So for an hour and some change I listened to the complaints. I finally was able to change the subject but I was in a bad mood, and my mom was still in a negative mood, so everything else she brought up was negative. My mom also chose to stop in places that made the scary Jack in the Box look golden. At one stop I stayed in the car (because I thought it would get stolen) and almost saw a gang fight. I was also tired of facing disgusting bathrooms and made a pledge to hold it till I got home (and by sheer bladder force I did).

I finally made it back to my home some 12 hours after my trip began. I was totally drained and ready for bed. But then of course I couldn't sleep. But at least I survived this trip.