Two years ago I flew to California for a week of fun in celebration of my brothers retirement from 23 years of service in the United States Air Force.
Each day of the festivities, mom and dad and I got up early to prepare the food for the days events. Who am I kidding? My mom and dad got up early while I slept in like a princess.
The first night, as I was leaving my brothers house, making my trek across the field of Jack Rabbits to the apartment I was staying in, I was quite surprised at the bodies just passed out cold on his floor. Everywhere. Guy on this couch, wife upstairs in the spare bedroom. Chick on the floor behind the couch and dude a few feet away. Asleep, on the floor. I guess the good thing is, they didn't drive.
The next day, I walk back over to his house, across Jack Rabbit field, in search of coffee and an aspirin for my pounding head. As I walk in the door, everyone is up, already laughing *and* playing the Wii while drinking their coffee. Fuck. It was going to be a very long week of drinking and laughing and one hell of a good time.
When I came home to Mississippi, I had several new friends. It seemed a little lame at the time, but the old adage ran through my mind "a friend of my brothers is a friend of mine". These people were genuine, kind and caring friends. The support system these Military wife's and husbands have within each other is nothing short of amazing. When your spouse is deployed, you can count on that support system.
Two years later, and one week ago, there was another retirement ceremony. Now, I wasn't "officially invited", but because my brother and his wife were going to be 1900 miles closer than normal, and because I hadn't seen them in two years, I figured it was as good a time as any to crash that party.
My first night there, I was privy to "recipe". A kick-ass frozen concoction that once you've made it through your first solo cup full, you pronounce it "RES-IH-PEEEEE". It's probably most advisable to remain standing during consumption so you can practice your balance as you make it through the drink that you actually eat with a spoon! I made the mistake of sitting in the very comfortable bar stool that swivels. Damn it if I didn't have to go to the bathroom shortly after. That was an adventure! You know you're drunk when you look in the mirror and say: "I'm not drunk". You're doomed.
The night was young and my brother and sister in law were NOT slowing down. I figured I'd better get a handle on things after my 3rd Sangria so I could drive back to the hotel. I stopped drinking all together and just people watched. I knew the next night was going to be even crazier too. Lord help me!
Remember in College, when we went out to the club and drank the cheapest drink so we could get drunk the fastest? Yep, that's how this night was. And you know, when you're wasted off your ass, you're like the best damn dancer EVAH! There was a D.J. There were spotlights AND a strobe light. I danced my ass off. And other people were so drunk, they were copying me. So, drunk they told me I was a great dancer! I can't help but die laughing when I think back to it. What a great time we had.
The best part? I'm even closer to my brother and sister-in-law's friends now and I'm counting down the days to South Carolina next year.
I feel another retirement crash coming!
Jul 25, 2011
TMI, But You Should Feel Sorry for Me for REAL
Who the hell gets sick when they're on vacation and then on TDY?
I do, that's who!
As you may have read yesterday, I went to St. Louis to visit my brother. So, Wednesday through Saturday night was a little mommy play time. I had a great time, once I got there. Sunday, I drove from St. Louis to Murfreesboro, TN for a class that will end Thursday.
So, Sunday I'm headed to Tennessee. Now, when I drive I like to get there. No stopping. No eating, just drive and get to where you're going. About 40 miles into the drive I had to stop. I felt like my bladder was going to explode! I stopped at some rinky dink truck stop and peed, ran back to the car and got back on the Interstate and cranked up the tunes.
30 minutes later, I sneezed and peed.
What the hell? I hadn't consumed enough liquids to be peeing this much. And it was a high probability that I was dehydrated from all the alcohol consumed the previous days. I pulled off the interstate and drove into the Sonic. I was a little sleepy anyway. Nothing like a little Mocha Java Chiller to light me up! I popped the trunk and dug through my suitcase.
Imagine the look on the dudes face when I pulled some panties and a pair of shorts out of my suitcase and headed to the restroom which, by the way, didn't lock and the door handle was about to fall off. I don't think I've ever peed and changed so quick in my life. Yes, I peed again. This time in the toilet. But, what felt like was going to be another bowl full, was nothing but about a teaspoon full. And, Holy mother of God, it burned like hell coming out!
Son of a bitch, am I getting a bladder infection? I wouldn't know, because I've never had one before. I ignored the signs (I was complaining the night before from a little back pain, but I honestly thought it was my drunk dancing. You know, you feel things the next day that you didn't before because that Crown and Coke goes down smooth and makes you feel warm all over!). So, there was back pain, a dull throb in the hooch, fire like sensation when urinating. What? That's not normal? I got back in my car and headed East. I was bound and determined to make it all the way without stopping.
I made it! About 3 hours later I was seriously doing the potty dance at the front desk while the cute boys at the check in desk looked at me all crazy like. I didn't bother moving my car and headed straight up the elevator to my room, in the door and BAM!
I peed my pants again.
Fuck. What the hell am I going to do now? My suitcase is IN THE CAR!
But, you all know I'm a genius. I see a bag on the back of my bathroom door. When I peek inside, what do I find? Jackpot, A BLOW DRYER!
Yes, I did. And when I went downstairs an hour later, I said in my sweetest Southern Drawl, "Lord, I forgot my car was right in the way y'all, I hope I didn't cause any trouble!" And I slipped out the door to move my car.
Y'all, I'm about to die here today! I got up 6 times to pee only to drip drop in the toilet and scream from pain. My neighbors might think there's something fun going on in here but I can assure you there is NOT! When my alarm goes off, I drag myself out of bed and get ready for class. I can't even get in the door good before I'm like:
Oh sorry y'all I gotta pee.
For some reason there is assigned seating in this class since we are all from different parts of the US, so this way we can get to know each other. Whatever. Where is my seat? In the fucking middle of the room! And, what am I going to say to the instructor?
Look dude, I have a bladder infection which means I have to pee every ten minutes and hefty here next to me doesn't look like she wants to be bothered to move every time I have to leave the room. You mind if I sit in the back?
No, I sucked it up and took my seat.
20 minutes in, I exit the room. And again 20 minutes after that. And again 20 minutes after that. And you get the picture. Except it didn't seem to bother the instructor or the gal sitting in the blasted way. It bothered ME!
I finally couldn't stand it anymore and when I was brought to tears in the bathroom for the 80th time, I called my doctor back home and begged for some meds.
Now, my pee is the color Burnt Sienna, I hate Cranberry Juice but have enough of it in my hotel refrigerator to own stock in Ocean Spray, and I'm still in pain!
You can feel sorry for me now. I just told you that I peed my pants twice in one day for Christ's Sake!
I do, that's who!
As you may have read yesterday, I went to St. Louis to visit my brother. So, Wednesday through Saturday night was a little mommy play time. I had a great time, once I got there. Sunday, I drove from St. Louis to Murfreesboro, TN for a class that will end Thursday.
So, Sunday I'm headed to Tennessee. Now, when I drive I like to get there. No stopping. No eating, just drive and get to where you're going. About 40 miles into the drive I had to stop. I felt like my bladder was going to explode! I stopped at some rinky dink truck stop and peed, ran back to the car and got back on the Interstate and cranked up the tunes.
30 minutes later, I sneezed and peed.
What the hell? I hadn't consumed enough liquids to be peeing this much. And it was a high probability that I was dehydrated from all the alcohol consumed the previous days. I pulled off the interstate and drove into the Sonic. I was a little sleepy anyway. Nothing like a little Mocha Java Chiller to light me up! I popped the trunk and dug through my suitcase.
Imagine the look on the dudes face when I pulled some panties and a pair of shorts out of my suitcase and headed to the restroom which, by the way, didn't lock and the door handle was about to fall off. I don't think I've ever peed and changed so quick in my life. Yes, I peed again. This time in the toilet. But, what felt like was going to be another bowl full, was nothing but about a teaspoon full. And, Holy mother of God, it burned like hell coming out!
Son of a bitch, am I getting a bladder infection? I wouldn't know, because I've never had one before. I ignored the signs (I was complaining the night before from a little back pain, but I honestly thought it was my drunk dancing. You know, you feel things the next day that you didn't before because that Crown and Coke goes down smooth and makes you feel warm all over!). So, there was back pain, a dull throb in the hooch, fire like sensation when urinating. What? That's not normal? I got back in my car and headed East. I was bound and determined to make it all the way without stopping.
I made it! About 3 hours later I was seriously doing the potty dance at the front desk while the cute boys at the check in desk looked at me all crazy like. I didn't bother moving my car and headed straight up the elevator to my room, in the door and BAM!
I peed my pants again.
Fuck. What the hell am I going to do now? My suitcase is IN THE CAR!
But, you all know I'm a genius. I see a bag on the back of my bathroom door. When I peek inside, what do I find? Jackpot, A BLOW DRYER!
Yes, I did. And when I went downstairs an hour later, I said in my sweetest Southern Drawl, "Lord, I forgot my car was right in the way y'all, I hope I didn't cause any trouble!" And I slipped out the door to move my car.
Y'all, I'm about to die here today! I got up 6 times to pee only to drip drop in the toilet and scream from pain. My neighbors might think there's something fun going on in here but I can assure you there is NOT! When my alarm goes off, I drag myself out of bed and get ready for class. I can't even get in the door good before I'm like:
Oh sorry y'all I gotta pee.
For some reason there is assigned seating in this class since we are all from different parts of the US, so this way we can get to know each other. Whatever. Where is my seat? In the fucking middle of the room! And, what am I going to say to the instructor?
Look dude, I have a bladder infection which means I have to pee every ten minutes and hefty here next to me doesn't look like she wants to be bothered to move every time I have to leave the room. You mind if I sit in the back?
No, I sucked it up and took my seat.
20 minutes in, I exit the room. And again 20 minutes after that. And again 20 minutes after that. And you get the picture. Except it didn't seem to bother the instructor or the gal sitting in the blasted way. It bothered ME!
I finally couldn't stand it anymore and when I was brought to tears in the bathroom for the 80th time, I called my doctor back home and begged for some meds.
Now, my pee is the color Burnt Sienna, I hate Cranberry Juice but have enough of it in my hotel refrigerator to own stock in Ocean Spray, and I'm still in pain!
You can feel sorry for me now. I just told you that I peed my pants twice in one day for Christ's Sake!
Jul 24, 2011
Hell Yes, I'm Burning my Bridges!!
I'm holding my breath.
Squeezing the wheel.
My knuckles are white.
I'm Looking straight ahead, careful not to move my eyes an inch.
Wishing just this once, my peripheral vision was broken.
My heart is racing.
There are beads of sweat on my forehead.
I close my eyes. WAIT, I'm driving, I can't do that!
My legs being to feel numb.
Tears are streaming down my face.
I think I just peed a little.
Is it over yet? No? How about now? Almost done? Can I start breathing yet? No? Why? Hurry Up!
Please just get over this mother fucking bridge!
I cannot be the only human on the face of this earth that has the most ridiculously unreasonable fear of traveling over bridges. Can I? Seriously, I sometimes try and get out of going places that require me to travel over bridges. What? I have to cross a river, a lake, a fucking bayou? Hell no, I'll stay home.
Of course, if it's the beach I'm traveling to, I'll go. I have friends. My friends have Xanax. Xanax is good.
Guess what? Wednesday AND TODAY, I didn't get to take that Xanax. I WAS THE DRIVER AND ALONE.
I decided I was going to see my brother and his wife since they were going to be in St. Louis for the week which, is 1800 miles closer to me than usual. I can drive 600 miles to see them sure! When my husband map quested my route for me he failed to mention that I had to travel over a damn bridge. Had he NOT failed to mention it, I might have stayed my ass home, Not only have I traveled over one bridge but now, it's been THREE bridges, in THREE days, ALL ALONE!! Not cool at all.
It all started 22 years ago. 1989. The Loma Prieta Earthquake. As a child, bridges never bothered me. I lived in California and the Golden Gate bridge was traveled over by me at least a hundred times. The bay bridge. No big deal. Really it wasn't a problem. But when the earthquake hit there was so much devastation. I wasn't anywhere close to the area that had the worst damage. In fact, I lived 3 hours away. I mean, we still felt it all the way up in the foothills but, it wasn't until the images of the devastation started pouring in over the Television and the magazines and the newspapers. My Biology teacher was right in the middle of it. Thank God, he was not injured. However, I'm still a little pissed off that he decided he was going to come to class and give us major details of the heroic work he did to free so many people from their cars.
Their smashed cars.
From the bridges, overpasses and stacked interstates they traveled across. In their cars.
The cars they all thought they were safe in.
It was graphic, and gory and so heartbreaking and scary that I literally haven't been the same since. Because now I know, I'm going to die in a horrific crash, while traveling over a bridge. I'll probably still be alive, at least a little bit, and then my car will go careening over the side of a bridge. I wont have anything sharp in the my glove box so as to bust out my window because I have a car with electric windows and once the car hits the water the electricity will no longer be so god damn awesome because we're so lazy we can't roll our damn windows down so there I'll sit. Clinging to life with major injuries, and drowning because I can't get out of my car, somebody help me!
It's best if I'm not the driver when traveling over bridges. And if you know that we have to travel over a bridge and I'm driving but, there's a chance that I don't know we are traveling over a bridge but you forget to tell me, I will pull over once across the bridge and punch you in your taco.
Friends, it's very safe to assume that as a passenger when traveling across bridges, if I'm looking out the window, I've taken 5 Xanax or I'm completely drunk. If I'm neither of the two then I probably have my head between my legs doing breathing exercises!
But, if I'm the one actually *driving* over the bridge, I'll probably be taking 5 Xanax AND getting drunk very shortly after!!
Squeezing the wheel.
My knuckles are white.
I'm Looking straight ahead, careful not to move my eyes an inch.
Wishing just this once, my peripheral vision was broken.
My heart is racing.
There are beads of sweat on my forehead.
I close my eyes. WAIT, I'm driving, I can't do that!
My legs being to feel numb.
Tears are streaming down my face.
I think I just peed a little.
Is it over yet? No? How about now? Almost done? Can I start breathing yet? No? Why? Hurry Up!
Please just get over this mother fucking bridge!
I cannot be the only human on the face of this earth that has the most ridiculously unreasonable fear of traveling over bridges. Can I? Seriously, I sometimes try and get out of going places that require me to travel over bridges. What? I have to cross a river, a lake, a fucking bayou? Hell no, I'll stay home.
Of course, if it's the beach I'm traveling to, I'll go. I have friends. My friends have Xanax. Xanax is good.
Guess what? Wednesday AND TODAY, I didn't get to take that Xanax. I WAS THE DRIVER AND ALONE.
I decided I was going to see my brother and his wife since they were going to be in St. Louis for the week which, is 1800 miles closer to me than usual. I can drive 600 miles to see them sure! When my husband map quested my route for me he failed to mention that I had to travel over a damn bridge. Had he NOT failed to mention it, I might have stayed my ass home, Not only have I traveled over one bridge but now, it's been THREE bridges, in THREE days, ALL ALONE!! Not cool at all.
It all started 22 years ago. 1989. The Loma Prieta Earthquake. As a child, bridges never bothered me. I lived in California and the Golden Gate bridge was traveled over by me at least a hundred times. The bay bridge. No big deal. Really it wasn't a problem. But when the earthquake hit there was so much devastation. I wasn't anywhere close to the area that had the worst damage. In fact, I lived 3 hours away. I mean, we still felt it all the way up in the foothills but, it wasn't until the images of the devastation started pouring in over the Television and the magazines and the newspapers. My Biology teacher was right in the middle of it. Thank God, he was not injured. However, I'm still a little pissed off that he decided he was going to come to class and give us major details of the heroic work he did to free so many people from their cars.
Their smashed cars.
From the bridges, overpasses and stacked interstates they traveled across. In their cars.
The cars they all thought they were safe in.
It was graphic, and gory and so heartbreaking and scary that I literally haven't been the same since. Because now I know, I'm going to die in a horrific crash, while traveling over a bridge. I'll probably still be alive, at least a little bit, and then my car will go careening over the side of a bridge. I wont have anything sharp in the my glove box so as to bust out my window because I have a car with electric windows and once the car hits the water the electricity will no longer be so god damn awesome because we're so lazy we can't roll our damn windows down so there I'll sit. Clinging to life with major injuries, and drowning because I can't get out of my car, somebody help me!
It's best if I'm not the driver when traveling over bridges. And if you know that we have to travel over a bridge and I'm driving but, there's a chance that I don't know we are traveling over a bridge but you forget to tell me, I will pull over once across the bridge and punch you in your taco.
Friends, it's very safe to assume that as a passenger when traveling across bridges, if I'm looking out the window, I've taken 5 Xanax or I'm completely drunk. If I'm neither of the two then I probably have my head between my legs doing breathing exercises!
But, if I'm the one actually *driving* over the bridge, I'll probably be taking 5 Xanax AND getting drunk very shortly after!!
Jun 15, 2011
I *am* a Runner
Seven weeks ago yesterday, I came up with the brilliant idea that I was going to start running again.
Yes, I said running.
But you know what I mean - hell, I'd be lying if I said I ran but jogging sounds so lame to me.
Hey Hun, I'm going out for a jog!
Sounds lame right? But, this sounds bad ass:
Whew, that run was wicked!
Seriously though, I'm probably the slowest runner in Mississippi. Really, I know we're the fattest state and all but, because of my superior driving skills, I just about drive over a runner every single day. They seem to be everywhere!
This is why I choose to get my fat ass up at 4:30 am. I run in the dark. The morning dark. The night dark is still too hot and once, I tried to run at night and I literally went around the block. One time. And I walked 1/2 way. It's just too damn hot and I'm already drained from my day job. So, I run in the morning dark. Mostly because I'm refreshed from sleeping and I have more energy. But, also because all things (like 97% humidity and the fact that it's already 75 degrees at 4:30 am) considered, it really is cooler. However, I originally started my running journey in the morning because of the fucking asshole runners that seem to be everywhere in my neighborhood and all along every single road my pretty little Altima travels over. They're EVERYWHERE! Truth is, I don't want them to be jealous of my stealth running skills. Ha, NOT! I would hate to be lapped in my own neighborhood. So, I choose the very early morning for my run.
The first few days I was running the hood solo. All alone. Nothing but my thoughts and very heavy breathing to keep me company. Sorry guys, the heavy breathing is the gross kind, not the sexy kind. Anyway, a few of the mornings I would see a nice older lady taking what seemed to be a leisurely walk. At 5 am. I threw my hand up and panted a "morning" to her as we passed each other. A few times, I even saw her *jogging*. I unconsciously picked up my pace when I saw her up ahead. And yes, I even looked over my shoulder to make sure she was out of site so I could slow down again.
It freaked me the hell out last Friday when I saw her. The bitch was running. RUNNING. Not jogging like fatty here. Running. At first I was impressed. I thought 'good for her', she's picking up her pace.
Who am I kidding? I was pissed.
Today, I'm not so impressed. In fact, I'm still a little pissed. See, each morning we'd meet at a certain point, me going one way and she going the other and we passed every morning at the same spot. Without fail, I'd beat her on our second lap around. You know, three or four driveways ahead of our first passing point. Today, even though I ran about three quarters of a mile farther than usual, I looped around the same streets on the way back. I was going one way and she was going the other. When I got back around to the other side she was headed straight out of the neighborhood!!!
SHE BEAT ME!
I'm going to bed now so I can get plenty of rest. I'll be sprinting tomorrow.
Please call me, text me or email me sometime during the day and check on me. I feel sure I'll kill myself out there. I'll probably fall on my face. Skin my knees up or break a leg, but I'll be damned if the *JOGGER* is going to show me up!
Yes, I said running.
But you know what I mean - hell, I'd be lying if I said I ran but jogging sounds so lame to me.
Hey Hun, I'm going out for a jog!
Sounds lame right? But, this sounds bad ass:
Whew, that run was wicked!
Seriously though, I'm probably the slowest runner in Mississippi. Really, I know we're the fattest state and all but, because of my superior driving skills, I just about drive over a runner every single day. They seem to be everywhere!
This is why I choose to get my fat ass up at 4:30 am. I run in the dark. The morning dark. The night dark is still too hot and once, I tried to run at night and I literally went around the block. One time. And I walked 1/2 way. It's just too damn hot and I'm already drained from my day job. So, I run in the morning dark. Mostly because I'm refreshed from sleeping and I have more energy. But, also because all things (like 97% humidity and the fact that it's already 75 degrees at 4:30 am) considered, it really is cooler. However, I originally started my running journey in the morning because of the fucking asshole runners that seem to be everywhere in my neighborhood and all along every single road my pretty little Altima travels over. They're EVERYWHERE! Truth is, I don't want them to be jealous of my stealth running skills. Ha, NOT! I would hate to be lapped in my own neighborhood. So, I choose the very early morning for my run.
The first few days I was running the hood solo. All alone. Nothing but my thoughts and very heavy breathing to keep me company. Sorry guys, the heavy breathing is the gross kind, not the sexy kind. Anyway, a few of the mornings I would see a nice older lady taking what seemed to be a leisurely walk. At 5 am. I threw my hand up and panted a "morning" to her as we passed each other. A few times, I even saw her *jogging*. I unconsciously picked up my pace when I saw her up ahead. And yes, I even looked over my shoulder to make sure she was out of site so I could slow down again.
It freaked me the hell out last Friday when I saw her. The bitch was running. RUNNING. Not jogging like fatty here. Running. At first I was impressed. I thought 'good for her', she's picking up her pace.
Who am I kidding? I was pissed.
Today, I'm not so impressed. In fact, I'm still a little pissed. See, each morning we'd meet at a certain point, me going one way and she going the other and we passed every morning at the same spot. Without fail, I'd beat her on our second lap around. You know, three or four driveways ahead of our first passing point. Today, even though I ran about three quarters of a mile farther than usual, I looped around the same streets on the way back. I was going one way and she was going the other. When I got back around to the other side she was headed straight out of the neighborhood!!!
SHE BEAT ME!
I'm going to bed now so I can get plenty of rest. I'll be sprinting tomorrow.
Please call me, text me or email me sometime during the day and check on me. I feel sure I'll kill myself out there. I'll probably fall on my face. Skin my knees up or break a leg, but I'll be damned if the *JOGGER* is going to show me up!
May 18, 2011
Where did time go?
It just hit me like a ton of bricks.
Literally, out of nowhere.
There's a huge weight on my heart and I can't breathe.
Just yesterday he had his arms stretched up in the air begging for me to "up, up momma!"
It seems like not long ago he was learning to ride a bike.
I remember when his baby brother was born, he was such a huge helper. He used to love to feed him. Now, he is so happy his brother is self sufficient...he's too cool to take care of his little brother.
He's sweet and shy. He's so loving and caring. He'd give you his last piece of chocolate if you asked him to. He's tough on the outside, but so soft and brittle on the inside. He's smart and funny and loves to read. He enjoys video games and throwing the football with his buddies.
He's been through hard times and yet, he's still so strong.
He has such a fan base in his family - so much love.
Tomorrow he will end his days as a grade schooler and enter Middle School.
There's just no way he's old enough. Is he ready?
Am I?
Literally, out of nowhere.
There's a huge weight on my heart and I can't breathe.
Just yesterday he had his arms stretched up in the air begging for me to "up, up momma!"
It seems like not long ago he was learning to ride a bike.
I remember when his baby brother was born, he was such a huge helper. He used to love to feed him. Now, he is so happy his brother is self sufficient...he's too cool to take care of his little brother.
He's sweet and shy. He's so loving and caring. He'd give you his last piece of chocolate if you asked him to. He's tough on the outside, but so soft and brittle on the inside. He's smart and funny and loves to read. He enjoys video games and throwing the football with his buddies.
He's been through hard times and yet, he's still so strong.
He has such a fan base in his family - so much love.
Tomorrow he will end his days as a grade schooler and enter Middle School.
There's just no way he's old enough. Is he ready?
Am I?
Mar 30, 2011
Here's my Disclaimer: Read My Blog Your Own Risk
This is supposed to be a SHORT CLEAN blog.
I doubt it will end up that way.
I've been busy for the past few weeks. Busy reviewing products. Busy packing for vacation and then resting from vacation. I've even been busy at work. I know, weird right? I mean, give me a break boss. I come to work to rest from being a mom and a wife for crying out loud. I'm so busy that I'm too busy to be busy!
I digress.
One of the major things that I can't stop thinking about here lately is that I'm kind of OUT THERE. Aren't I? Like, I know I'm out there, like *crazy* out there. But, the way I'm talking about is that I say quite a bit of stuff that some people may think I should take a little more lightly or perhaps not be so open about. Maybe I shouldn't tell everyone that I'm a raging bitch and I don't know how my husband puts up with me? Maybe I shouldn't tell you how I feel about gay and lesbian marriage or even share that I have homosexuals in my family. Perhaps people find it offensive that I talk about my sex life on the Internet. And maybe, just maybe I should stop using such foul language.
That's just not who I am y'all! I'm not going to shake your hand after meeting you for the first time and say "How the fuck are ya!" And, there are a few words that I just refuse to say one of them starts with a C. Funny, I have a friend that says: "She's nothing but a that word I don't say"....Anyway.
Something that I often have to think twice about is *WHO* is following/reading me on Facebook, on my Blog, on TWITTER, basically the Internet as a whole. When I say I'm out there, I mean you could probably google me and find something very offensive and my name is behind it. Just last night while I was talking to my mom on the phone she mentioned something about my dad finding a picture of someone on *my* Facebook page.
WTF, dad looks at my Facebook page? How, does he have a Facebook account?
I don't think so, he just has ways....
Believe me y'all, he really does have ways. He's a retired Attorney so he knows how to snoop. Where do you think I learned it from?
Then thoughts went racing into my head like my mother and father-in-law reading my blog or my facebook page or my blog or finding my tweets. What if they read them?
For a minute those thoughts really worried me. But, so what if my dad looks at my Facebook page? So what if my father-in-law reads my blog? They are only finding out that in today's society we are a lot more open than they used to be. I'm 99.9% sure they have done everything we are doing now. They just didn't have the tools we do these days to brag about it and tell the entire world. Back then that would have been a lot of letter writing! I am who I am and I speak my mind and if I want you to know something about my life or someone else's, I'm going to tell you especially if it's a juicy story.
UNLESS it hurts your feelings. If it hurts you in any way, OF COURSE I'll apologize for it and I might just do it publicly and even remove it from my world of publicness. Because my peeps, you have got to understand that by no means, in no way, not ever will I do something with the pure INTENT on hurting you or anyone, especially if I love you. Hell, if I've even spoke to you I probably already love you so that's a great huge area of peeps! But, I really do have a heart and I'm not stupid either.
There is ONE person that I don't ever want to hurt (other than my children) and that is my husband. He has been my everything. He is a rock that I can depend on no matter what situation I get myself into. He's that guy who has a solution to everything. He also is one of two people in my life that I know doesn't ever let anything bother him. Both he and my father have this ability to let things roll off their backs like water rolls off the back of a duck. He just finds a way around the giant boulder in the road and keeps moving right along. With that being said, there are people in his life that could be affected by what I say and do. I don't want to hurt those people either.
So, this is kind of like my public apology to anyone I've ever wronged or offended. I'm sorry y'all. I really am. If you are one that I was just speaking to you need remember that you clicked on my blog, Facebook, Twitter or whatever it is you're reading, so you can easily remove yourself from my social media places of reading enjoyment - just don't read it.
I can be your secret guilty pleasure. Go on, keep reading and laugh out loud. You know you want to.
See you when you stop by tomorrow!
I doubt it will end up that way.
I've been busy for the past few weeks. Busy reviewing products. Busy packing for vacation and then resting from vacation. I've even been busy at work. I know, weird right? I mean, give me a break boss. I come to work to rest from being a mom and a wife for crying out loud. I'm so busy that I'm too busy to be busy!
I digress.
One of the major things that I can't stop thinking about here lately is that I'm kind of OUT THERE. Aren't I? Like, I know I'm out there, like *crazy* out there. But, the way I'm talking about is that I say quite a bit of stuff that some people may think I should take a little more lightly or perhaps not be so open about. Maybe I shouldn't tell everyone that I'm a raging bitch and I don't know how my husband puts up with me? Maybe I shouldn't tell you how I feel about gay and lesbian marriage or even share that I have homosexuals in my family. Perhaps people find it offensive that I talk about my sex life on the Internet. And maybe, just maybe I should stop using such foul language.
That's just not who I am y'all! I'm not going to shake your hand after meeting you for the first time and say "How the fuck are ya!" And, there are a few words that I just refuse to say one of them starts with a C. Funny, I have a friend that says: "She's nothing but a that word I don't say"....Anyway.
Something that I often have to think twice about is *WHO* is following/reading me on Facebook, on my Blog, on TWITTER, basically the Internet as a whole. When I say I'm out there, I mean you could probably google me and find something very offensive and my name is behind it. Just last night while I was talking to my mom on the phone she mentioned something about my dad finding a picture of someone on *my* Facebook page.
WTF, dad looks at my Facebook page? How, does he have a Facebook account?
I don't think so, he just has ways....
Believe me y'all, he really does have ways. He's a retired Attorney so he knows how to snoop. Where do you think I learned it from?
Then thoughts went racing into my head like my mother and father-in-law reading my blog or my facebook page or my blog or finding my tweets. What if they read them?
For a minute those thoughts really worried me. But, so what if my dad looks at my Facebook page? So what if my father-in-law reads my blog? They are only finding out that in today's society we are a lot more open than they used to be. I'm 99.9% sure they have done everything we are doing now. They just didn't have the tools we do these days to brag about it and tell the entire world. Back then that would have been a lot of letter writing! I am who I am and I speak my mind and if I want you to know something about my life or someone else's, I'm going to tell you especially if it's a juicy story.
UNLESS it hurts your feelings. If it hurts you in any way, OF COURSE I'll apologize for it and I might just do it publicly and even remove it from my world of publicness. Because my peeps, you have got to understand that by no means, in no way, not ever will I do something with the pure INTENT on hurting you or anyone, especially if I love you. Hell, if I've even spoke to you I probably already love you so that's a great huge area of peeps! But, I really do have a heart and I'm not stupid either.
There is ONE person that I don't ever want to hurt (other than my children) and that is my husband. He has been my everything. He is a rock that I can depend on no matter what situation I get myself into. He's that guy who has a solution to everything. He also is one of two people in my life that I know doesn't ever let anything bother him. Both he and my father have this ability to let things roll off their backs like water rolls off the back of a duck. He just finds a way around the giant boulder in the road and keeps moving right along. With that being said, there are people in his life that could be affected by what I say and do. I don't want to hurt those people either.
So, this is kind of like my public apology to anyone I've ever wronged or offended. I'm sorry y'all. I really am. If you are one that I was just speaking to you need remember that you clicked on my blog, Facebook, Twitter or whatever it is you're reading, so you can easily remove yourself from my social media places of reading enjoyment - just don't read it.
I can be your secret guilty pleasure. Go on, keep reading and laugh out loud. You know you want to.
See you when you stop by tomorrow!
Mar 9, 2011
Day Six: You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours
Touch me so I don't have a heart attack.
What are you talking about?
If you touch me, it will make my blood pressure go down and I'll be all happy.
Yeah, right.
Today's exercise is all about touch. I feel like we've been down this road before but, I swear I'm reading day six. And, honestly I can't count on one hand how many days *didn't* go by that we never touch at all. Aside from the quick peck on the cheek and a high five or two every now and then. So, I want to take this seriously to see if our attitudes will lighten up a bit.
The other day, I made him hug me while I counted to thirty. Today, I made him hold my hand in the grocery store. Not the whole time because damn it if his hands didn't start to get all clammy. Nothing worse than clammy hands for real! When we put the groceries in the car I was waiting for him in the passenger seat and I leaned over to kiss him. He was a little weirded out.
Babe, someone is going to see us!
I know, and heaven forbid if someone sees a man and a wife showing a *little* affection for each other!
Fine....
And he leaned in again for the rest of my kiss. I really did try to hold his hand on the way home but seriously, I think the man has diabetes because his hands were all sweaty again.
All the time he's smacking my ass as I walk through the kitchen. Or like, as soon as I get done filing some paperwork in the bathroom, he thinks it's totally funny to try and jiggle the fat parts of my ass. Doesn't he know that some things take time to get back to normal? I mean for real...leave me alone until I can recuperate!
So, for our evening exercise I wanted to give him a full body massage. I wanted to be nice to him, like he is to me when I whine for 40 hours that my back hurts and will you please rub my shoulders and lower back and tickle my arms and play with my hair? He has a totally sensitive body and it's from one extreme to the other. Either I'm to soft and it tickles him to death, or I'm being much too rough for his sissy pants. I swear I think I massaged him for an hour and he was so relaxed, he didn't even take his contact lenses out before falling asleep! I snuggled in next to him and probably slept better than I have in weeks!
Remember to check out COUPLES PLACE on Facebook for your own guide!
I wrote this posting while participating in a blog campaign on behalf of K-Y® Brand and also received product samples to help facilitate my review. In addition, K-Y® Brand sent me a gift card to thank me for taking the time to participate.”
What are you talking about?
If you touch me, it will make my blood pressure go down and I'll be all happy.
Yeah, right.
Today's exercise is all about touch. I feel like we've been down this road before but, I swear I'm reading day six. And, honestly I can't count on one hand how many days *didn't* go by that we never touch at all. Aside from the quick peck on the cheek and a high five or two every now and then. So, I want to take this seriously to see if our attitudes will lighten up a bit.
The other day, I made him hug me while I counted to thirty. Today, I made him hold my hand in the grocery store. Not the whole time because damn it if his hands didn't start to get all clammy. Nothing worse than clammy hands for real! When we put the groceries in the car I was waiting for him in the passenger seat and I leaned over to kiss him. He was a little weirded out.
Babe, someone is going to see us!
I know, and heaven forbid if someone sees a man and a wife showing a *little* affection for each other!
Fine....
And he leaned in again for the rest of my kiss. I really did try to hold his hand on the way home but seriously, I think the man has diabetes because his hands were all sweaty again.
All the time he's smacking my ass as I walk through the kitchen. Or like, as soon as I get done filing some paperwork in the bathroom, he thinks it's totally funny to try and jiggle the fat parts of my ass. Doesn't he know that some things take time to get back to normal? I mean for real...leave me alone until I can recuperate!
So, for our evening exercise I wanted to give him a full body massage. I wanted to be nice to him, like he is to me when I whine for 40 hours that my back hurts and will you please rub my shoulders and lower back and tickle my arms and play with my hair? He has a totally sensitive body and it's from one extreme to the other. Either I'm to soft and it tickles him to death, or I'm being much too rough for his sissy pants. I swear I think I massaged him for an hour and he was so relaxed, he didn't even take his contact lenses out before falling asleep! I snuggled in next to him and probably slept better than I have in weeks!
Remember to check out COUPLES PLACE on Facebook for your own guide!
I wrote this posting while participating in a blog campaign on behalf of K-Y® Brand and also received product samples to help facilitate my review. In addition, K-Y® Brand sent me a gift card to thank me for taking the time to participate.”
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