Monday, September 6, 2010
I love ol' sneaky snake
My daughter thinks she's sneaky. After 21 years of being caught repeatedly at her "hijinks" she still thinks she's sneaky. You think she'd realize that I'm onto her but for some reason she's not picked up on that yet. First of all she has this lie face. Everytime she's lying she makes this face. I wish I could describe it. It's a don't look at me, I'm up to something kind of face. She doesn't seem to realize she's making it so she thinks I'm a mind reader. Well I am and I know what you are thinking and doing right now and that is so gross and your hand does not belong there. See I am psychic...I knew exactly what you were doing.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
I feel like they're crawling all over me...
I was sitting in my office when I heard what sounded like my colleague tap dancing out in the hall. I ignored it for a while but as it continued I had to get up and see what was going on. She was kicking at a cockroach…the largest cockroach I have ever seen. It was currently on its back flailing around trying to right itself so it could go carry off a small child. The woman I work with was trying to kick it down the hall away from her office. Someone had told her that if you squish a cockroach with your shoe their eggs attach to the bottom of the shoe and then come home with you and your house gets infested with roaches and possibly the plague. (Does anyone know if this is true?) I got grossed out and went back into my office to quietly gag and freak out. When I came back out of my office later the cockroach was gone. We still haven’t recovered the cleaning woman it carried off.
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I swear it was at least this big... |
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Creative murder technique
I was driving down the road with my husband and daughter one summer day before my daughter graduated from high school. As I often do I sucked spit down into my lungs and started to cough. Apparently after four decades my body still hasn’t figured out that the trachea is for oxygen not liquids. I started coughing very hard.
My husband looked at me for a minute as I struggled to drive and hack up a lung and then told me, “Stop choking, you’re driving.”
My daughter laughed so hard she almost peed herself and I nearly expired as I tried to cough and laugh at the same time.
Way to try to kill me, Edwin.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Happy Birthday to me
Yes, it is a Disney cake. Don't judge me. |
I am not a big birthday person, at least where my birthdays are concerned. Though I must admit that my birthday yesterday was pretty good.
I got to spend it with my beautiful daughter...
Doesn't she look thrilled? |
My gorgeous, wonderful grandchildren...
Barney was on, way more interesting than picture taking. |
And my soulmate, my handsome husband.
I love this man. |
Of course I also got the perfect serenade...
Saturday, August 21, 2010
I’ve got nothing but shit.
I’ve not had much going on lately. I’m in kind of a holding pattern waiting to see if the new meds work or if they make me into a raging psychopath (I’ve been getting a little bitchy lately so I’m starting to worry).
However…
The other day my lovely granddaughter M was running around naked. She’s almost 15 months old but still has the super chubby baby leg rolls and chubby tummy and little chubby baby cheeks and only a little hair so she looks much younger than she is. Basically she’s adorable naked and she loves to have her diaper off so we indulge her before bath time. She was over by my husband and I saw she had something in her hand headed toward her mouth (everything goes in her mouth). I ran over to her saying, “Punkin, what have you got?” I held out my hand. She stopped her hand traveling to her mouth and placed what was in her hand into mine. It was bright playdoh green, lumpy, hard and warm. I looked at it confused unable to grasp what she could have gotten a hold of until it finally dawned on me.
I said out loud, “It’s poop.”
My husband looked at me and goes, “What?”
“It’s poop.” I said again and held me hand out palm up with the piece of poop laying in it like an offering. With my other hand I grabbed M’s hand so she could not put her hand in her mouth.
“Ewww...” was my husband’s contribution.
I started yelling for my daughter because now that I was trying to keep M from putting her hand in her mouth she was determined to do it and was pulling against me as hard as she could.
My daughter comes wandering in from the kitchen. “It’s poop.” And I hold it out again. I guess I was hoping someone would take it from me but no. She gets the baby and I go to get rid of my smelly hand companion.
Z, my other granddaughter, comes running over, “I want to see.” So I stop my bathroom trek and turn around with the poop still balanced on my palm so she can admire her sister’s work.
Finally I get to the bathroom and dump the poop and scrub my hand.
Such is my life. Exciting, isn’t it?
However…
The other day my lovely granddaughter M was running around naked. She’s almost 15 months old but still has the super chubby baby leg rolls and chubby tummy and little chubby baby cheeks and only a little hair so she looks much younger than she is. Basically she’s adorable naked and she loves to have her diaper off so we indulge her before bath time. She was over by my husband and I saw she had something in her hand headed toward her mouth (everything goes in her mouth). I ran over to her saying, “Punkin, what have you got?” I held out my hand. She stopped her hand traveling to her mouth and placed what was in her hand into mine. It was bright playdoh green, lumpy, hard and warm. I looked at it confused unable to grasp what she could have gotten a hold of until it finally dawned on me.
I said out loud, “It’s poop.”
My husband looked at me and goes, “What?”
“It’s poop.” I said again and held me hand out palm up with the piece of poop laying in it like an offering. With my other hand I grabbed M’s hand so she could not put her hand in her mouth.
“Ewww...” was my husband’s contribution.
I started yelling for my daughter because now that I was trying to keep M from putting her hand in her mouth she was determined to do it and was pulling against me as hard as she could.
My daughter comes wandering in from the kitchen. “It’s poop.” And I hold it out again. I guess I was hoping someone would take it from me but no. She gets the baby and I go to get rid of my smelly hand companion.
Z, my other granddaughter, comes running over, “I want to see.” So I stop my bathroom trek and turn around with the poop still balanced on my palm so she can admire her sister’s work.
Finally I get to the bathroom and dump the poop and scrub my hand.
Such is my life. Exciting, isn’t it?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Braaainnnssss
I’ve not been feeling very funny lately or even slightly, remotely entertaining. My meds got lazy slacker like and quit doing their job so instead of feeling witty and engaging I’ve been feeling kind of zombie-like. Well, what I imagine a zombie would feel like. Having never been one I can only assume. I mean I feel kind of emotionally distant/dead not that I want to eat brains. I think brains would be kind of chewy and possibly hard to swallow, kind of like a raw oyster except less snotty like. Please do not get me started on intestines….I mean its bad enough to eat sausage casing, can you imagine eating it when it hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned first, that would just be ewwww. Another symptom of my meds playing the slacker kid who lives in the basement smoking pot and playing video games is that I can’t focus. But you never would have guessed that right?
So now I have to start this long, complicated process of weaning myself off of one med while starting to take another and I have to take pills at certain times of days for so many days and who does the doctor think I am? I can barely remember the way to work, how I am going to take these pills correctly? You all are going to see me on the news where I chopped someone up and probably ate their intestines because I know I’m going to get my dosage wrong and go mental.
I thought about telling the doctor to just put me in the hospital so they can make sure I am monitored while going through this but then I thought, “No…then everyone will know I’m crazy.” Because, really I’ve been keeping it under wraps to the general public so well. I just really don’t want the people I work with to know I have issues.
But I can let you guys know because I don’t work with you and you won’t tell anyone, right? RIGHT?
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Yes, I suck...
I have not blogged in a while and this is bad because at the beginning of the year I had planned to blog every day. Big major fail on that one. I am giving myself a pass on that though because I’m bat shit crazy. Okay, I’m not quite that crazy…I can still kind of function out in public. I have a job and everything and I can sometimes go to the grocery store. Sometimes I can…but sometimes when I get there my heart starts to pound and I can’t breathe and this screaming starts in my head and then I have to leave. Being around people is hard for me. Fortunately at work I’m in a block of offices with only one other person and my office is the last one on a dead end hallway so I don’t have to see other people much. Yay for me! I have been going to therapy and seeing a psychiatrist to try to get my meds right. We thought we found something that would work but now my insurance won’t pay for it (and I can’t afford $500 a month for meds) so back to the drawing board. That’s okay though…I know we’ll find something that will work and I will be what passes for normal for me again. Normal being sci-fi, zombie, vampire (but not sparkly vampires…yuck), gaming, comic, loving and completely different from everyone in the area I live. Do you know no one except my family around here has a zombie apocalypse emergency plan? Really what kind of people are these? They also listen to country music…which is just plain wrong. My husband wants to move back to NYC. He believes there we will find people more like us. I, however, think we just need to go back to our home planet
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