Stream of conscious rambling from a sleep deprived nurse with English degree leanings. Either that or the psychological trait known as flight of ideas...it's a toss up.
28 February 2010
He may not be conventionally handsome, but he's a great actor and a staunch supporter of the military. I think he's smokin' hot. The Stand is on and he does a fantastic job portraying Stu. Too bad they completely pancaked on casting Molly Ringworm as Frannie.
I ran for the first time in over a year today, and it really wasn't that bad. I guess Jillian Michaels' grating voice yelling at me is good for, at least, not stroking out in the forest. The dog and I both need a bath now, however.
24 February 2010
Chris Collingsworth is doing color commentary on the Olympics, why???? I don't recall seeing any pigskins around. Weird.
But he just made a Superbowl reference. Dork.
Just finished Ozzy's biography. I may have to listen to early Black Sabbath all day tomorrow.
I'm a little restless and bored. Which is never good; I find things to pierce and tattoo when that happens. I have a strange feeling my latest modification may be common knowledge at work. Which would be thanks to my distracted texting with my dear co-worker/friend who hasn't been able to keep a secret in the 7 years I've known her. Especially if she's been drinking.
What pervo manager decided that the best layout in my local Fred Meyer should have the Easter candy directly across from the prophylactics? I was in the throes of a Peeps jones and was waylaid by the condom/woman arousal lubes right across from the sugary goodness. Mainly, it was the Trojan "Vibrating fingertip plus condom" package. See what happens when you don't have sex unless it's with a Battery Operated Boyfriend? There is a cornucopia of unknown treasures being invented out there.
Watching Women's Bobsledding to see Bree Schaaf...and Bob Costa (?) or the other guy (Jim Something or other) keep pronouncing her name "Shafe." It's bugging the crap out of me. Perhaps I should loosen the sphincter a little. But I know if her Auntie Lynn heard it, it would drive her nuts too.
Still feeling the same after the "Show-up-to-work-and-get-admitted-into-the-ED" extravagaza. Bill the Wonder Doc is still in absentia to me. Everyone else has seen him but I'm either off the floor, not working, being secluded in Outer Darkness (also known as the induction clinic), or writhing around on an ED gurney. One might get the feeling he was ditching me, if one were prone to paranoid delusions. My follow-up with his nurse practitioner was interesting to say the least:
She: "What do you think it is?"
Me: "No idea." (Aren't you supposed to tell me?)
She: "Well, what would you like to do about it?"
Me: *crickets* "What do you suggest?"
She "We could just wait it out or you could get a GI consult."
Me: "Since I would rather be in labor than go through that again, let's go for the consult."
But she was kind enough to refill my meds until June-ish (w00t!) and the ED gave me a new jar of Percocet. Although the anti-spasmodic might be my favorite drug right now. I'm afraid to stop taking it. Even if my mouth feels like a cracked, dried out creek bed and I could care less where my next meal is coming from...very few spasms; so I'll just keep it up thank you very much.
I get to see Michael the Extrememely Gay Hairdresser tomorrow. Woohoo! I look ghetto fabulous with my roots showing. Speaking of obnoxioux things, had a baby daddy (It's okay, that what his baby mamma called him to his face, so I'm golden) tell the patient in a very public induction clinic (three beds, three curtains, all acoustic, all the time) that she did this herself and he didn't want it to happen, but she did it herself. I couldn't help thinking, "Well I doubt she ripped the condom off your package, forced it into her body, and forced you to inseminate her. So, I'm thinking you might have had a small part in this whole party." With his waistband down to his mid thighs and a coat and hat emblazoned with Marines that no Marine I know of would have been caught dead in. After he made her cry he left and was not seen again. Which surprises me not.
I feel the need for some Patsy Cline
Did you know Willie Nelson wrote "Crazy?" And that Patsy was reluctant to record it because she said she couldn't sing it the way Willie wrote it, so she did it her own way? Lucky for us. And Willie, really.
In related Olympic news, I loved Lindsey Vonn's excited tears when she won gold. Especially, if anyone knows skiing, after watching how much pain she was in coming across the finish. Not to mention how she felt for Anja when she fell.
But holy cow, look at BODE!!!
16 February 2010
Sunday night FB spent the night with a friend as it is President's Week Break (yes, you read that right. And in a few weeks, we'll have Spring Break. And people wonder why the US is behind scholastically), so it was just SoS and I hanging out at the house. I have a tendency, on days I don't have to go to work the next day, to stay up until the wee hours of the morning. This makes rising at the crack of dawn with my little rays of sunshine a little difficult. The usual pattern, when FB is here, is they come in, ask if they can go downstairs, and then amuse themselves until I drag my carcass downstairs...usually around 8 am. This particular day, however, it was at 8:45. And in that time SoS had gone across the street to ask if the neighbor boy could play (ummm, come back when you're mom is awake. Jeez. Now they might vote against me for Mother of the Year.), decided his hair was too long in the front and hacked part of his bangs and most of the right side of his head, and used most of a bottle of furniture cleaner to "wash" the coffee table. So, last night I had to shear him like a sheep. After doing yard work and running errands all day, of course. He could care less and I didn't have time. He happens to like his hair shorter, so I didn't get any of the angst I would have had I shaved FBs head.
Knucklehead McSpazatron has decided, after 2 1/2 years, to start digging his way out of the fence any chance he gets. My lovely neighbors kindly put him back and plug up the holes over and over again. Even when he digs his way back out before they can get back across the street. Between my kid and my dog, they are getting a workout. So I spent today burying cement pavers under the fence line and transplanting a wisteria in order to thwart his excavation efforts. We'll see how it goes.
Because my entire yard thinks it's May, I've been out deadheading Hydrangeas, cutting back the evil roses and doing all manner of things that shouldn't have to be done for another month and a half. Curse you Pineapple Express! My pops came over and rototilled for me. I told him I'm going to move the garden closer to the house and he offered to move the frames for my raised beds. Sure, fine, that would be helpful. Until he stacked them in a flower bed. Which means on some flowers. I realize the bed is in dire need of a flamethrower weeding, but dude, c'mon. So I have to get the new garden area ready or he'll come over and commit some other devilish-ness.
All this manual labor, along with a nagging headache that wants to turn into a migraine, has resorted in three straight days of Percocet use. In a strange turn of events my systemic itching from said Percocet is gone. No longer do I spend my night scratching my legs, rubbing my back on the sheets, or digging at my shoulder. Good. Except the itching isn't entirely gone. It has just moved to my orifices. Every orifice. Not a fun sensation. But still not one that will make me quit using the White Pill of the Gods brought down from Mount Olympus on a golden satin pillow. Once again, from my cold anaphylactic hand peeps!
This has nothing to do with anything...I just think it's funny!
If I had to suffer through these patronizing PSAs I would have started making Molotov Cocktails in my basement. And if the announcer thought that young lady's shoes were outrageous...I'd hate for him to see mine!
(video make tolerable by Mystery Science Theater 3000)
Ember at doubleplusundead posted her brand new kicks. I love them. But what would I wear them with? And where? Definitely idea for Zombie Hooker costume for next Halloween.
10 February 2010
Valentine's Day is just around the corner and my kids needed shoe boxes for their Valentine's mailboxes and, since I didn't have any, I was forced to go buy not one, but two pairs of shoes. The horror! But, I must make these sacrifices as a parent. It is the cross I bear.
I bought a handy dandy program in the hope that I will be able to un-fuck my laptop. Two hours later....meh. It is a trifle better, but now my bluetooth doesn't recognized my mouse. Most awesome. I hate technology.
I've always said I didn't turn into a girl until I was 40 and now I think the metamorphosis is accelerating. Not only am I getting teary over tender moments on Phineas and Ferb but I have found I can shower, slap a ball cap over my wet hair and motor out the door, but not before I tint my eyebrows and put on eyeliner and mascara. What. The. Hell. I firmly subscribe to to the theory of "Everything will be fine; just put on some lipstick." I figure by the time I'm 60 I'm going to be like Donna Reed or June Billingsley, vacuuming in my pearls and taffeta cocktail dress at 2 in the afternoon, wondering whatever will I feed Wally and the Beav for a snack after they get home from school? While my unfulfilled potential will be a simmering stew of resentment only restricted from spewing forth in a toxic waste flow by virtue of some serious pharmaceuticals. Not unlike this MST gem:
"Mother and Daughter put the final touches on the dinner...with Strychnine!"
We went to the Senior Chief and the Missus' abode yesterday to enjoy the festivities (read: eat crappy food and try to watch a game while keeping 5 wild boys from making the Senior commit infanticide) and I saw SoS chuck a wrench from the top of the Big Toy and clock Senior Chief Mini Clone right in the head. SCMC was fine, albeit a little bruised (I swore there was to be stitches, if not blindness). Just my luck, the kid with all the athletic ability is the one with impulsivity issues.
The biggest problem I see is that the outfit styles just make me think you are going to have The Village People in your pants. Can your junk do the YMCA?
I love the warning that says "...Dapper apparel must be removed completely before intercourse." Fer reels??
Since I didn't acknowledge E's birthday (shame on me! But I was in the middle of an emotional shoot out...sue me.), I felt the need to post some extra special hot Elvis videos to make up for the lapse. These would be my two favorite from the 1968 Comeback Special. I could make a meal, peeps.
There's klingons on the starboard bow, starboard bow, starboard bow, there's klingons on the starboard bow, starboard bow, Jim!
Bwahahahahaaa. Nerds in space!
SoS has been completely decompensating lately. His behavior problems in school have gotten worse; more outbursts, more defiance, more just everything. He's been extra special SoS. I wouldn't care and would just say the school needs to find a way to deal with him if it weren't for the fact that he is miserable. MISERABLE! Crying, saying he's a bad kid, wishing he could go to heaven (ulp!) stating that he's trying to do what he's supposed to as hard as he can, but it's just too hard. At this point, I got the pediatrician involved. My ped loves my kids. And I love him because his plan of care involves the home and school evaluation forms, then an in office evaluation, then "IF we have to go down a pharmacological road." Instead of "the meds are called in; go pick 'em up." I mean, he's known this kid for 7 years, he knows what he's like. And his behavior at home is as it has always been. Except for being miserable getting off the bus. His teacher this year actually likes him and that makes the reports from school a lot easier to take. He takes so much time from the teacher in the classroom and he's starting to annoy the other kids. He is a lovable guy and would do anything for you; he's just having a little difficulty. And it makes me sad. Not to mention, all this is exhausting. Single parenthood just sucks ass.
In a last ditch effort to keep him off medication, I have instituted some sweeping dietary changes. The offspring are less than amused. No dairy for 3 months, no additives, preservatives, sugar, etc. Basically, all 4 of SoS's food groups. Not to mention flax oil in the juice, B6 supplements, fish oil caps before bed... It's been a rough go and I don't know how much it is actually helping. Of course, I'm not quite sure SoS doesn't have a candy dealer that's feeding his jones outside the circle of my influence. I will say, I have gotten quite adept at hiding pureed vegetables in the food. Cauliflower or spinach ("Look it's like Dr. Seuss!) in the scrambled eggs. Goat milk in eggs and pancakes along with butternut squash. Sweet potatoes in the muffins. Although, I was running late for work the other morning and got a little heavy handed with the goat milk in the eggs. Does it freak anyone else out that goat milk tastes just like goats smell? Seriously. It's a little off putting. Anyway, I was eating and thought, "oops. The eggs are a tad goaty." Luckily, the kids had salsa on theirs and couldn't tell. I'm just happy I get to go to work and still have access to diet Pepsi. Do as I say, not as I secretly do, dammit!
I was talking to the Wife of the Senior Chief the other day while flipping through channels and under my breath I said, "The Notebook, thhhhhbpt, oh! Steven Segal: Lawman! Yay!" She started cracking up and told me that I should have married the Senior instead because I pooh-poohed the chick flick and was excited about SS:L. And that the Senior thinks I walk on water. I told her, "Except for the fact that the Senior was in luuuuuurrrrrve with you from the first second he saw you, and he only thinks I walk on water cuz he doesn't live with me!" One of the perks of being the second wife...I get to be the fun one!
How big of a nerd am I that I think the noise of the automatic doors opening at Petco sound exactly like the Transformers (the original cartoons) transforming? Pretty big?
I was trying to find a movie by which to fold clothes (so they'd actually get done instead of taking root on the couch) and found the movie One Crazy Summer. Which I'd never seen. What? How could I have missed a movie from the 1980s?? Especially one involving John Cusak and Curtis Armstrong? I must watch! And 10 minutes into it, I realized I was glad I'd never seen this misbegotten piece of celluloid waste. What a turd. To wash the taste out of my brain, I had to watch Fatal Beauty, which is no gem I'll grant you, but at least it has Sam Elliott.
Yowza. That voice does things to me without even trying. He even made Roadhouse worth watching. And his little spots and voice overs in The Big Lebowski made a great film even better. *sigh* I may need to have a little conversation with my New Best Friend. ;P
My domesticity has taken quite a hit lately. I think if your house could qualify for FEMA clean up funds, there should be a "Justifiable Arson" clause in your Homeowners policy. Just torch the damn thing and start over; it would be easier. Speaking of cleaning, I went into the boys' bathroom to tidy up a little (talk about needing a flamethrower. Are these yahoos genetically incapable of seeing toothpaste on the counter and wiping it up?) and noticed this:
Why, yes, that is a toothbrush stuck to the light fixture. This morning as I was, once again, chivvying my children out the door, SoS said, "Mom, I put my toothbrush up there so FB wouldn't use it." Without looking and running down the stairs, I replied that no way did FB want to use his toothbrush. And promptly forgot all about the conversation. I'm not even sure what made me look at the light fixture tonight. But when I saw this, I got my camera, took the picture, and then left it there. Which only now strikes me as unusual. Wonder where my children get it.....?
Wanna know why today is the best Groundhog Day evah??
This was released today on DVD:
Which I pre-ordered so Fed-Ex delivered it to my door! As I was mowing the lawn...yeah. You read that right. I had to mow my lawn in February. North Carolina, my dear old stomping grounds, are up to their hip waders in snow (oh, okay, so there is a bout 6 inches, it just seems like it's up to their hip waders to them) and I'm mowing my freaking LAWN!
Just to make me doubly happy, I bought this the other day:
Woot! And then I bought a copy for the Nav's wife as she gestates in the desert. "SHAROOOOOONNN!"
Why, yes, that is a toothbrush stuck to the light fixture. This morning as I was, once again, chivvying my children out the door, SoS said, "Mom, I put my toothbrush up there so FB wouldn't use it." Without looking and running down the stairs, I replied that no way did FB want to use his toothbrush. And promptly forgot all about the conversation. I'm not even sure what made me look at the light fixture tonight. But when I saw this, I got my camera, took the picture, and then left it there. Which only now strikes me as unusual. Wonder where my children get it.....?
