Monday Blah(g)

Finished. I'm so loving that word right now. My day of starvation turned into 2 days of starvation. That did not go down so well. Friday I woke up prepared to not eat until about 8:30 because my body scan was scheduled at 5:30 and I was supposed to fast. Luckily(or so I thought) they asked me if I'd like to come in earlier so I went in at 3:30 and by that time my hands were shaking because I'm guessing my blood sugar was really low. About 20 minutes into the scan I asked if they thought I would need to come in on Saturday for more images and the tech said probably yes because there doesn't seem to be enough 'action' in my intestines. I said," That's because there's nothing in there ok!" I couldn't imagine not being able to eat for another day but she said I could have a light dinner and to come back at 11 the next day. That night, even though I had been able to eat a little, I was still so effing hungry. I couldn't sleep because I was imagining all the food I wished for. For some reason I was craving a really buttery baked potato or mashed potatoes, I was actually rehearsing in my brain what I would tell MrPea I wanted to eat as soon as I came out of the hospital. I was so bitchy the next morning. I mean, I know that there are starving people out there, I know this. So how is it that I could not manage a few hours without food? But let me tell you, I was in such a bad mood. To be honest, I was not only touchy, I was downright depressed. It's really strange to me now that it's over the kind of mood I was in. I almost went off on the poor receptionist who told me that the nuclear med department just called her and said they wouldnot be ready for me for 30 minutes. I sort of yelled at her and told her everyone in that hospital is crazy and stormed out. After sitting in the car with MrPea for 20 minutes, I felt bad so when I went back in I told her I was sorry for being so mean . But honestly, guys, imagine not having a decent meal in two days. A half hour schedule delay would seem like an eternity, especially since that would mean a half hour delay in your getting your damn potato you've been dreaming about all night. I had even snapped at the tech person the day before because she asked me to move my head so that they could get a side view image. So I moved. She said," Can you turn just a tiny but more?" I said," If I turn my head any further I'd have to be Linda Blair- Exorcist so can you just take the damn images already?" Ouch- feel bad about that too.....

Anyway, it was over quickly and they were nice enough to show me my images, although they couldn't make any official comments on them since I would have to wait for word from my doctor. I'm hoping that will be by the end of this week. I'm tentatively relieved because there didn't look like there was any tissues in my neck area compared to last year's images so I'll be crossing my fingers until I hear from doc. But I've always celebrated too early only to be kicked in the arse later so I'll just say that I'm glad, at least for now, to be FINISHED with all that crap for another year. AND yes I did order a big heaping plate of mashed potatoes with my tall club sandwich for lunch. I was able to catch up with my sleep this weekend so The Pea you heart is back to 100%.

AND the most beautiful thing to be able to say? I'm going to the beach today. Low tide hits just at the right hour. I don't even care that it's cold out. It's sunny and that's all I need right now.

I'm feel like tattle-telling

Because someone needs to hear about this and there was no one around to whom I could bitch about it.

There are very little things I despise in this world more than pollution. I realize some pollution can't be avoided. But when I see people leave their garbage all over MY beach and flick their cigarettes out the car window(I mean, we're only driving GASOLINE-FILLED vehicles) I make sure to give them the evil eye, if they happen to be looking my way. Last week the wind was blowing a ton of seaweed from the Sargasso Sea and with it all the crap people must be throwing off their boats or dumping on their beaches. Nasty people.

I first encountered this bottle.


At first I got excited because maybe there's a message in it....maybe I was wrong. Upon closer inspection I notice it said Havana Club on it. Does this mean it floated here all the way from Cuba? Is there such a drink that can be bought here in the US called Havana Club? I just want to pretend the answer is no because at least then this is pollution I can maybe get excited about.







More bottles with no messages inside.....

Someone's big gulp.


And the cherry on top was this nasty shoe. I did not find it's mate.

If you see the people who did this, you tell them I'm not very happy with them right now because I hate cleaning up after people.

Losing it at the hospital is apparently my thing warning-to-easily-grossed-out-by-girly-things-men, this post contains the words 'tampon' and 'period'

-I almost slapped someone at the hospital where MrPea had his surgery the other day. Mind you, if you had been told to arrive at 7:30AM only to wait 7 hours before your husband's procedure started, forced to sit in the Cardio-Vascular waiting room full of right wing crazy people peeing in their pants watching Faux News crying out "sexist" every five minutes for another 7 hours, been the last person in the waiting room with no one giving any information as to where your husband is and if he's even still alive at this point, gone on a damn Odyssey just to get coffee because the right wing crazy family HOGGED ALL THE DAMN COFFEE(!), only to go on another damn Odessy looking for tampons when you're finally reunited with your LaLaLand drugged up(but doing ok) husband you might just feel like slapping someone too. Oh but that's not the whole story regarding the tampons. Yes my friends, I had to go look for tampons. Not before hand feeding my poor husband who wasn't suppossed to get out of bed or sit up the rest of the night some hospital food chicken and Mac and cheese, going up and down to the first floor(we were originally on the 2nd, then they moved him to the 4th to recover)to give my brother the keys to our place so that he could take care of Peanut. It had been over 9 hours since he'd been out and it didn't look like MrPea was going to be able to go home. Oh but that's not just it. This hospital is a friggin Labrynth ok. On my Tampon trip, I got on the elevator and pushed 1, to go down to the main lobby where I saw a gift shop and pharmacy on my search for coffee. Did this elevator go to the first floor? NO. It went to 5th floor. I wasn't paying attention since at this point I was half zombied with the stress of the day. I got off and started wandering around. I wandered for about ten minutes in this hospital from hell before a nurse told me I was on the wrong floor. Fine. I get to the first damn floor. Guess what. Everything is closed. I went up to the information desk and asked if there were any vending machines that sold toiletries. The two women working there gave me a blank stare. Forget it. I went to a receiving area and asked the same question. The two women there were apparently in the middle of an inside joke. Giggling, they could not even get an answer out. Finally after about half a minute one of them said no. I said is there anywhere I can go to get a few things for my husband and also feminine things. Laughing again. One of them spit out in a really smartassed voice,"You can go to Walgreens....."bursting out in another round of laughter. OK Time stopped for just a second and I envisioned myself jumping over the counter panther style and slapping this women and her little hyena laughing friend. Of course they both outweighed me by at least 30 pounds and being taller than me, would definitely have a longer reach so it's a good thing I did not. I'm pretty sure they assumed the evil look on my face was attributed to my being on my period and not how irritated I was being laughed at and how early a damn hospital pharmacy closed.


-Oh but that's not the end of it. Giving up, I finally went back to my husband's floor stopping first in the ladies room to see if they had a vending machine. Bingo! They did. But quickly my relief turned into full fledged maniac fury when the machine stole my last two quarters and gave me zero tampons. I cannot confirm or deny beating the machine with my elbow or kicking it Karate style, even though I've never had Karate lessons....

-Back in my husband's hospital room I calmed down, put on a smiling face for him and asked his nurse how to get to my car. I remembered I always keep a few extras in the glove box. (There are 3 parking lots and I was confused about which elevator to use and which walkway) He took about ten minutes and gave me 3 different maze scenarios before seeing the confusion on my face and said,"Or you could just go to the first floor and walk outside to the next building behind the second garage." I said,"Well, it's dark outside right now, we're in (name of scary downtown neighborhood) and I'd like to not get murdered on the way to my car...." (I just wanted to get some freakin tampons ok?! )

-In the end I figured the way out by myself and was able to retrieve the damn tampons. Did I learn any lessons? NO. Know why? BECAUSE MAYBE I WOULD HAVE BROUGHT EXTRA DAMN TAMPONS IF I HADN'T BEEN TOLD TO COME IN AT 7 DAMN 30 IN THE MORNING FOR A 2 HOUR PROCEDURE WITH A HIGH POSSIBILITY OF MY HUSBAND GOING HOME.... That's why. Or you can just blame my bad temper on my period, whatevs.

New members of the I hate you club

Today I felt like I was in a Lifetime channel movie. Here's the scene: me in the waiting room at the OB-GYN for my yearly check surrounded by pregnant women. All of them happily rubbing their round beautiful bellies and disgustingly glowing with happiness. Me, miserable finding myself jealous and cursing the whole world's fertility.

I had to sit there for a half hour listening to them trade stories about how excited they were, someone just bought new toys, someone's inducing next week, someone's craving tacos and can't wait to deliver. I felt so left out. I felt like such a loser and a fraction of a woman because I can't even have a healthy baby right now.(Oh and by the way, my doctor who told me sternly not to even think of trying to have a baby for the next two years is-guess what-PREGNANT...not that it's her fault but still, the kindergarten maturity level version of myself is resentful and frankly jealous. Yeah she's in the I hate you club today too.) I'm pretty sure I did some silent pouting AND the kindergarten maturity level version of myself is also convinced that they were smug and taunting me. I've never met any of these women in my life and it's not their fault I can't be one of them. Still though I decided to dislike them for the rest of my wait. One of them even had a cute 4 year old mini-her resting her head on her pregnant belly to feel a kick. She was kind enough to ask me when I was due. The self pity version of myself thought," never never." The bitch version of me thought," bitch do I look pregnant, why do you have to rub it in?" But I politely told her I wasn't and smiled at her daughter.

I would like nothing more than a fat, bald headed, beady eyed little baby in a pouch around my shoulders at the beach with me while I look for shark teeth. I would like nothing more than pulling a toddler around in a wagon behind me while I walk Peanut. I would like nothing more than getting a five year old dressed for her first day of school. I would like nothing more than helping my genius kid(because he'd have my genes, hello!) with his homework. I know how to clap and wave at little league games. I could cry and pat myself on the back at a graduation or wedding. I'd be just as good at all these things as everyone else dammit.

I realize this is a romanticized version of raising kids. Believe me, I'm no fool, I have 6 nephews. I can tell sometimes there are times when my sister is on the edge of insanity where just one more word, one more noise, one more mess will do her in. Then I'll hear one running to her, crying with a booboo. And I'll think to myself,"I want to be the one to kiss booboos too."

On grudges

I have a tendency to hold grudges for a long time. But only for certain people. Usually it's someone I know I'm never going to see ever again. This probably makes it easier for me to hold on to them. And 99% of my grudges are from when I was a little kid.

For example(s)

-When I was about 7 I accidentally knocked over a 3 or 4 year old girl. I was on a swing going very fast and she just ran in front of me before I could stop or slow down. Needless to say, I hit her pretty hard with my feet and she fell down crying. Of course I felt awful. Her mom yelled at me in Japanese. I don't speak Japanese so obviously I don't know what she yelled to me but I'm pretty sure it was in the ballpark area of," You stupid little girl, why did you kick my child!" She yelled at me so loud and angrily that I started crying. Looking back though, that woman should have been paying better attention to her child instead of blaming me, a 7 year old. They were walking right in front of me, they HAD to have seen me swinging since I was the only one on the damn swing. So yeah, I don't forgive that lady for yelling at me.

-I have a tablet that I used when I was in the first grade for spelling tests and grammar. My teacher, whose name I remember, Mrs. Nishii, marked one of my answers wrong that I know for sure is right. And it's not so much that she just made an innocent mistake, it's that she crossed out the entire answer with her red marker and did not give me a happy face stamp next to all the correct answers like she usually did and made me rewrite my sentence with the wrong answers circa Dan Quayle and the way he spelled "potatoe". So I'm still mad at you, Mrs. Nishii.

-Someone, and you know who you are, was "worried" about how bad my handwriting was. This same person, who I will not name, promised to give me 50dollars at the end of the 3rd grade school year if I kept a promise to hold my pencil differently. So long-story-short, basically I did change the way I held a pencil, now have even worse handwriting to this day, and I still never saw my 50 dollars. Yup, mad about that too.

-Oh yeah, same person who ripped me off on the 50 dollars, 3 years before had pretended to write me a check for a million dollars for my birthday when I was 5. I totally believed it for a few minutes only to be disappointed that, no, I was not actually a millionaire on my birthday. You'd think that would have taught me.

-And one more for the road. We had just moved from Hawaii to Florida into a new house and all of us were in new schools. It was understandably an adjustment for everyone. So my dad took the whole family to see a counselor. The counselor started with her speech about how all families have sore spots and we need to work together to communicate with love. I remember this very well. So she went around asking everyone what issue they would like to address and told us beforehand that we had to be respectful to whatever everyone's answer was. So when it came time for me, I said I was sick of being picked on all the time just because I was the youngest. She wanted me to be more specific and asked exactly how I was getting picked on, tell how it made me feel and explore what I , a effing 8 year old, could do to help my attitude about being the brunt of everyone's jokes. So I said I wanted everyone to stop laughing at my hair and calling me "afro-head," or"poodle girl," and that it hurt my feelings. Yes I was vain about my hair even then. I had just got a perm, a Christmas gift from my grandma and at times it was a little on the poofy side in the Florida humidity. So what happened after this came out of my mouth? After all the BS that woman fed us about respecting everyone's answers and communicating with love? LAUGHTER. The whole room, including, that bitch counselor. And she did not stick up for me nor remind everyone that I had stayed silent during everyone else's discussion. Utter laughter. OK I don't blame my family, that's why we were there. To learn. And she didn't do her job, she laughed at me with everyone else, thus encouraging the getting picked on and laughed at. Yeah, so she's forever in the I hate you club.



Want more? Oh I have more, I promise. But all this injustice has made me tired. Do you have any grudges? Tell me here, after all it is Tuesday.

Trying not to scratch myself into a coma

Guess who has hives again. Yep, it's me. At least the good news out of it is that now I know exactly how I got them the first time. Banana Boat Baby. Do not buy this product if you or your child has sensitive skin and DO NOT put it on your baby. It's what gave me hives.
In fact I think it's the tool of the devil. I have a rash all over my arms, on my ears and neck and that's where I put it on the other day to go jogging. Luckily I didn't put any on my face this time because my regular moisturizer already has SPF15. And I do remember using that same sunscreen the day before my last allergic reaction. So the face is ok but the arms look like pink sandpaper. Nice.

Seems like it never ends

I heard from my doctor on Monday about my scan and she says the radiologist mentioned "activity" was seen around my liver that may or may not be a "technical issue" whatever the hell that means. So I'm scheduled for a CAT Scan tomorrow morning so they can figure out exactly what it is. She doesn't think it's anything since it never showed up before on my last body scan from January but my doctor is the damn queen of checking and rechecking. I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to feel about this. I'm definitely not happy. Frankly, I'm pissed off. I have to be selfish and irrational for a second to say, I feel like this is all unfair. I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't use drugs, I eat healthy and I exercise everyday. I don't understand why my body is doing this to me. I sick of looking at those (medical)people's faces. I sick of being asked about my period and other personal bodily functions by complete strangers in front of my husband who's never even seen me pluck my eyebrows because that's just the way I am. I'm sick of needles, I'm sick of IVs, I'm sick of the white or pastel paint and ugly tacky artwork in every hospital waiting room, I'm tired of being on hold listening to really bad jazzy muzak trying to get appointments and confirmation numbers and insurance information. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it. I'm. Sick. Of. It. There I feel better.

I have to wake up early tomorrow and drink some really nasty tasting liquid before my appointment and then drink some more nasty tasting liquid when I get to my appointment and they're going to put an IV in my arm for the procedure. It's going to be so much fun......

Sorry no words sooner guys

I'm still not feeling well. Not from the radiation so much anymore just because they still won't let me back on my meds because of a body scan I have coming up on Thursday. This utterly pissed me off because I was told I could start taking my meds again 3 days after I left the hospital and then this new appointment was sprang upon me without even asking me. I don't like decisions being made in regards to my health without being informed of them. Doctor does not mean dictator and I absolutely did not like not being left out of the decision and I didn't like being told one thing a month ago and then something new all of a sudden. I'm sick of asking them when it's ok to go back on my meds so that I can feel normal again. It makes me feel like a junkie and a beggar and I don't appreciate being put in that position. I am absolutely livid over the fact that I was told I would only be off my regular meds for 2 weeks when here I am going on my 5th week feeling like all hell is inside my body and still no definite word about when I can start taking them again other than, "call us on the day after your scan and we'll probably call you back on Monday. Oh by the way, you're not supposed to eat anything day."( That means the first time I eat anything at all on Thursday will be around 9pm...yeah) I'm also angry over the fact that I specifically asked if I was going to have another body scan after the radiation and was told no because I had a feeling this was going to happen. I probably would not be this upset if not for the fact that I had to call 7-8 times over the course of 5 days with never a returned phone call from the person in charge of making appointments just to find out when my hospital stay was going to be but there's that to add to all the other frustration. The cherry on top of my irritation over the whole thing was back in January I agreed to have thyrogen injections before the first body scan because I made it clear that going off my meds was not something I felt comfortable doing in the first place. So that was a complete waste of time and money as well. I did communicate this with her office and, oh trust me, I will reiterate this on my next visit which I expect will happen sometime next week unless they want me to unleash my fury right there in the lobby. This is exactly what I mean when I stress to everyone how important it is for patients to be proactive in the care they receive. We are patients not sheep and I don't need to tell anyone that nobody gives a flying !@#$ so long as your insurance company approves the money needed and everyone gets paid. And I'll put this out there once more: I'm one of the HAVES when it comes to excellent insurance coverage. I already know that this is not always the case so if I can be treated this way so can anyone. Thyroid cancer is supposed to be the easiest cancer to treat and cure so I realize my impatience and anger is a relatively small issue in the larger scheme of things. And although I'm very thankful to have all that I have including a thorough doctor, I am beginning to get extremely irritated and question this need to check and recheck and recheck and re-treat. It's beginning to feel ridiculous and unnecessary. I know my own body, I do. I had 5 different doctors brush me off and say,"Oh you're fine," like I was some kind of whiny school girl and I KNEW that it was they who were wrong not me. So now I know that I am finished after this, finished, I don't care what the hell anyone says--it's time to move on and go back to the yearly routine not to have freak out sessions over unconfirmed issues. Because frankly I'm starting to believe that all this is doing more harm to my body than good. Especially since the tissues they were watching were not active and no biopsy was taken. If I begin to have other problems because of all this, there will be law suits and that's no threat.

I want to tell you guys, I'm not an assertive person. I'm usually a mouse. But the good that came from having cancer was that I no longer give a crap whether or not I'm perceived as nice when it comes to my health care. I don't expect to be treated like a baby or wined and dined and ass kissed, I don't. But I will be treated with respect and my decisions are not negotiations and my word is trump not anyone else's. It sucks that it took being sick to get to that but at least I got there.

I'll be blogvisiting ya'll soon. Thanks again guys for all your visits and words of encouragements. Take care :O) And thanks to Chani for your kind email and book suggestion, I'm only into the first 100 pages and I love it already.

Just for the record Medical Random

-I went to get some blood work done today for the hundred-and-eleventieth damn time. And I just feel like saying in brief bitch mode: I'm sick of needles. I'm sick of doctors' offices. I hate the 'art work' in just about every doctor's waiting room I've ever been in, which has been a lot. I hate how cold it is in waiting rooms and that they always only have Golf magazines,which wouldn't bother me if I didn't hate golf. I hate that waiting room tvs are always tuned to old episodes of,"In the Heat of the Night." (I didn't even know that show was still playing in reruns. ) I hate when people are rough with my arm when taking blood and then look at me like I'm acting like a baby when I wince. I hate the fact that I never stick up for myself when this happens. Ok I'm done bitching. I only let myself do that for 2 minutes a day.

-By the way that didn't happen today. There is a guy who works there who always leaves bruises on my arm every time I get him. Today I got the gentle lady. She is always soft to me and I think it's because of the time I had to go in for blood work two days after my surgery. I had just came home from the hospital the night before and was so obviously not feeling well. I was taking a lot of pain meds and anxiety meds because of all the shit I'd been through(I still never told ya'll about how mean the nurses in the hospital were to me did I?) so I was pret-ty emotional and really couldn't walk much without help. I never cry in front of people I don't know. Ne-ver. But I was so damn not well, when she stuck me with the needle, I started to cry. I was so embarrassed. I sort of passed out in the waiting room on the way out afterwards too. I felt like such a jackass. But ever since then, she always says to me, "I remember you. I had you that day you weren't doing so good. Felt so bad for you dear. We'll try not to hurt you so bad this time. " She reminds me of my Grandma. She has no idea how thankful I am that people like her exist on this Earth.

-I have a couple scary medical things coming up any day now. I'm just waiting for them to call me with my appointment. I try not to be a baby about it but I can't help it. I'm scared of all that stuff. No matter how many times I'm told I'll be fine, there's nothing anyone can ever say to me that makes me feel any better. For 30 years I was able to depend on my body-engine without question and then one day I woke up and one of my parts was broken.
A local news anchor announced a recurrence of cancer. Even though, it's not the same as the one I had, worse and more deadly than the one I had, I got scared. I kept thinking, is this going to happen to me? Am I going to be ok for a while and then get hit in the head with this again and again? I hope not. I'm tired of putting on a brave and happy face all the time. Tired of it.

-Peanut had a, ahem, medical procedure today too. His vet took his temperature and he was so good. His new medicine seems to be working(KNOCK ON WOOD!) so I'm happy about that right now. I was so worried about him. His birthday is on Dec.11 and he'll be 10 years old. I'm not going to have a dog party for him but I want to do something special. Maybe buy him a new bed for one of his hiding spots and take him to the dog park.

I have to talk/bitch about clothes for just a second

But it's only because today I'm going shopping for a few warm things. Ok, I hate winter clothing, this is no secret. When I put on long sleeves and long pants, I feel like I'm in prison, I'm sure I've said this before but it's worth repeating. And I'm short so certain things can make me completely disappear. But like I said, I'm going to make the most of it. Usually I just wear old raggedy jeans and an old raggedy teeshirt with an old raggedy jacket and call it a day. I want to look respectable this year. And maybe appropriate. Those are two words I hate but I don't want to look raggedy this winter. That's probably why I'm always so damn depressed during that season and I refuse to feel like a bag lady anymore just cuz it's cold outside. I did manage to find a few things I love and I'm looking for some good shoes(I'm sure I'm not the only girl out there who has love for a good pair of shoes). However, I have just one major complaint. If I see one more of those 'word or phrase' outfits, I'm going to strangle myself. You know what I'm talking about right? Those "Juicy" on the butt pants? Those "Team Pink(or whoever)" shirts. Those "I'm hot" or, "I'm flirty", or "Can you afford this?", or "I met your boyfriend on myspace", crap these clothing companies keep trying to force on us. If you happen to like the stuff, don't be mad at me ok. It probably means that you're way cooler than I am, cool enough to get it. I just hate them. I feel like if you have to tell someone what you are by wearing it, you're probably not. Why would I need to tell anyone I was "flirty" on my shirt or on my behind? Ok I do have a shirt that says,"Aloha" on it, but it doesn't announce that I'm "Lookin' for a Sugardaddy" on the front and "I see you checking this out" on the back. Is there something I'm missing? I feel like a old grouchy lady when I say it but maybe I'm just an old grouchy lady then.



*I know I haven't been visiting much but I'll catch up when I get home today.

Oh readers

Have you ever fantasized about faking your own death just to get away from certain relatives? Because that is how I feel right now.

Please leave me a comment and tell me you have so I don't feel like an asshole for thinking such horrid thoughts. (all lurkers welcome too)

Dear Gucci Sunglasses

Dearest, Most Beautiful Gucci Sunglasses That Would Look Perfect Perched On My Freckled Nose,

I love you. Oh Lament that you cost $260.00 without the possibility of going on sale until probably December! But by that time you'll most likely be sold out or I'll be irritated from waiting too long for you and find (gasp! dare I say)prettier shades. Why Why Why do you have to cost so much? You know that I refuse to pay that much on principle alone. Why, you ask? Because, my love, you're made of plastic not platinum. And besides, I could care less about your name- Gucci, smoochy, it's all the same to me, hun-I could give a rat's, er, behind about your name. Do you see any logo handbags hanging in my closet? Hell no. Ok... you got me on the shoes but shoes are different. Shoes are sacred. And anyway, not a damn one of them, no matter what they cost have a logo of any kind on them. I simply refuse to pay a ridiculous amount of money so that I can be a sheep to advertise for free and be one of those people who walk around with their logos screaming,"Look at me, please look at me. Everyone check out this logo because you need to know how much this bag is worth/I am worth," on the inside. Those logos are all ugly to me anyway. If your designers could come up with a logo pleasing to my eye, you might just win me over but until then, not happenin'. But that's not the point. The point is, I love you. I have never been in love with or wanted an accessory like this. I'm not even sure why I love you so much. But, my darling, I refuse, I absolutely refuse to purchase you until your price goes below 200. My dear, believe me, I am tempted, I am tormented-I love you that much. But tempt me no more! My love is steadfast but so are my principles dammit. Why do you have to be the perfect shade of browns and beiges that go with every ensemble in my closet, why? Why did you do this to me? I search and I search and the best you can do for me is $234.00? Dearest, that's just not enough. Prove to me that you want me to wear you and go on sale, I beg you. If you truly love me, you will find a way! I'm waiting...I'm waiting. Don't make me wait too long.

Yours forever or at least until I find another pair worthy of my love for under 200 dollars dammit,
Angel

PS I know my shirt in my profile pic has a logo on it, dear. But it's such a pretty logo and the shape of a heart! A Heart! Not just some ridiculous letters in a ridiculous pattern. And anyway, I paid less than $20.00 for that shirt. So you see, dearest sunglasses? I just. won't. do. it. Sorry.

Why I hate talking on the phone

There's always that one person everyone calls when they feel bad. That person is always me. I feel good that people think of me and look to me for comfort when they're having a hard time. I want to be a comfort for anyone I love. But sometimes it becomes a drain. Especially when it's people who have so many unnecessary problems but don't do anything about it. Especially when it's someone who really doesn't have any problems but is just negative about every thing to the point where you don't even want to be around them. I start to feel like I'm being held hostage on the phone because I can't just say, ok sorry gotta go. Even though, and I feel guilty for admitting this, I don't want to have to sit there and listen for hours. I want to pull the phone out of the wall and throw my cell phone into the sea.


"Hello"


"problem,problem,problem.....misery,misery,misery."

"Really? That's too bad."

"yeah and guess what else, problem, problem,problem, misery, misery."

"Oh. I'm so sorry about that. Have you tried...."

"No because problem,problem,problem...more misery."

"Well I wish things could be better for you."

"Problem."

"Is there something that can be done to solve any of this or at least make you feel better?"

"Well problem,problem,problem,problem,problem. Plus there's misery,misery,misery."

At this point I still care, but I'm sick of it because I don't call people for this. I call to say hi-How are you- I miss you-I love you, not to dump and dump and dump all the negativity in my life on anyone. I have problems too. And when I'm sad or need support I'll say so but I don't use people like emotional landfills. If this were just a once in a while thing, I wouldn't even be complaining about it. It's almost everyday. Like I don't have a life of my own or something else I'd like to be doing than sitting here on the phone listening to problem after problem after problem without even pause to ask how I am. I'm beginning to feel like everyone just thinks,"Oh Angel doesn't work, she has time for all this crap. I'll call her and torture her because no one else wants to hear it. She doesn't mind." I want to be there for a loved one in need. But I don't want to spend my life talking on the damn phone about problems. Saying all this would make me a selfish bitch. This can't be healthy for anyone.

Hacking ruined my night

Last night MrPea and I went to see Pirates3, well I should say we tried to. When we go to the movies, we try to get there early because my tall,long-legged husband is most comfortable near the aisle. My 4'11" self could care less as long as I have extra butter on my salty as hell popcorn and the people behind me don't put their nasty feet on the back of my chair or next to me. On my way to get said popcorn that costs a damn arm and leg, I stopped by the bathroom and I could hear someone in one of the stalls coughing really loud. I thought to myself," I recognize that cough. I had that cough just weeks ago. Sounds like she's got that never ending dry cough when one gets rid of a nasty flu, poor thing.(Then selfishly)Oh, I hope she's not watching the same movie I am...." Sure enough, when I got back with our munchies MrPea whispered to me(in French so as not to hurt her feelings because we're polite like that),"There's someone sick in here, coughing. Do you want to move?" I don't mean a little, "heff, heff" every five minutes, this women was hacking loudly every 5 seconds. By this time the theatre had filled up so unless we wanted to blind ourselves by sitting in the front row, there was really no where else to go. I said,"Maybe she'll stop."

-15 minutes into the movie I thought to myself,"Surely she'll pop a cough drop or something."
-30 minutes: "Wow she's really hacking it up, surely she figure out it's disturbing and excuse herself. She should see a doctor."
45 minutes: "Great. I'm going to catch her disease."
1 hour: "How rude! She has to know how distracting this is. She should really leave! If I hear her cough one more time I'm going to strangle myself. I don't even know what the hell is going on this movie because I can't hear a damn word over her infernal effing coughing!"

We weren't the only ones who were annoyed. I saw more than a few people turn around in the dark to see who it was and heard people whispering things they wish would happen to that woman that I won't repeat here. Finally we looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and just left. I guess most people would have said something or complained to the manager but really what good would it have done? We probably should have just left right away and came back another time or tried to trade our tickets for a later showing but, naively, I always believe the best in people. That really, most people are polite and care about whether or not they are ruining someone else's good time. I truly believed that she would figure out her coughing was disturbing everyone and excuse herself because that's what a polite person would do. That woman had to know that her coughing was ruining the movie for just about everyone in that theatre. Actually she knew and she didn't care otherwise she would not have went to the movies in the first place. I get disgusted by that kind of attitude:"Well I'm having a good time, screw everyone else!" When I'm sick,which, if you've been reading here a while, is often, I quarantine myself because 1.nobody wants my sick germs 2.the coughing and sniffling is gross and rude 3.my grandma taught me good manners dammit!

But anyway.....I got over it.

We went to get some hot wings since it was still a nice night and I didn't really feel like going home yet. I wasn't very hungry so I just ordered some squash and had a couple of MrPea's wings. Big mistake(the squash not the wings) because at 3 in the morning I woke feeling soooo nauseous and crawled to the bathroom to do some hacking of my own.(sorry if I grossed you out) Food poison, my favorite. I even fainted in the hallway as a cherry on top. I'm not sure how long I lay there, wondering if I should curse the restaurant where we ate or the hooping cough disease infested, germ spreading, Johnny Depp movie ruining bitch!(and you know how I feel about Johnny) After a while I felt ok enough to run some water over my face and wet a wash cloth to put over my forehead so that I could go back to sleep. If you're wondering why I didn't call for my husband to come to my aid, it's because he's been through so much, worrying over and nursing all my sicknesses in the past damn year(and lately there has been a worrisome occurrence that may or may not be related to my thyroid cancer that I will post about later that has us a little concerned) I just didn't want him to wake up to his wife passed out and suffering on the floor in the damn hallway. I'm pretty sure one of these things would have happened: him having a complete total nervous breakdown or him freaking out and rushing me unnecessarily to the emergency room. But all is well now. I went back to sleep, not before explaining to him, the light sleeper he is, what happened. I'm feeling better. He didn't get sick so I'm thinking it was the effing squash. So I don't send any curses to anyone. It wouldn't be polite.

:o)

No gogo boots just yet, just some random thoughts

Just for the sake of randomness, after all, it is Monday.

-I can't seem to find anything in that damn closet of mine, especially photos of my hot mom in gogo boots from the 60s, except my shoes all over the floor.

-We had a run in with a couple of belligerent, yet slutty-in-a-funny-way drunk women on Saturday night. Story to follow when I have more than a few minutes.

-The beach was so foggy in the morning this weekend, I felt like I was having a facial.(picture above)I love it.

-The smoke from the damn fires(Florida is on fire-if you've been seeing it on the news) are driving me ape-crazy. With the wind shift the smoke is now heading the other way but without a decent rainstormm, the smell and soot are still in the air.

-Peanut murdered another lizard, a big one. It was disgusting.

-I'm over being the only girl/designated driver every time we go out. I have to constantly remind all the drunk idiot boys around me to use their inside voice. I'm not anyone's mother hen and I'm not gonna do it anymore.

-Golfers get on my nerves. Ok well not golfers but golf on tv. Poker on tv too since we're on the topic. Who the hell came up with the idea of, "hey let's sit around and watch a bunch of people in bad clothes and jewelry, and 1980s sunglasses play cards!" Someone please explain to me, Why is poker on ESPN? But back to golfers, if I see one more middle aged guy with a fluorescent orange, pink, or lime green shirt on with those stupid logos at the grocery store, I'm gonna have to say something.

-Maybe I'm the belligerent one? I haven't been drinking, it's all natural. Must be the smoke residual.

Thanks Neighbor, I only wanted 3 hours of sleep anyway

Condo-land...it's fun.


I have decided to blame anything that goes wrong today on the jerks in my building who decided to blast crappy,redneck music with some loud friends at full volume until 3AM last night. I'm not sure who it was because I didn't want to disturb Mr.Pea by walking around looking out the window. I'm pretty sure it's either LadyNextDoorWhoHatesMe -OR- GuyDownStairsWhoThinksHe'sDonJohnsonCircaMiamiVice. I'm leaning towards LadyNextDoorWhoHatesMe but it could be MrMiamiVice because he has no problem making loud noises with his obnoxious motorcycle at any hour of the day. So again, I have decided to blame anything that goes wrong and how shitty I feel today on whoever it was.

At least Peanut was a good boy at his doctor appointment today. Do you think it's a coincidince that my dog and I started having health problems at the same time?

Oh the heartbreak

Today I drove down what used to be my favorite country road. It's now a six lane highway. No more twisty branch oak canopy. No more sunlight filtering through the Spanish moss. No tall palmettos and Georgia pine full of squirrels jumping from branch to branch. No more slowing down for people on horseback. Gone are the little fat, short-eared, shy swamp bunnies(I've heard people call them Marsh rabbits but I like my name for them better) nibbling on wild flowers by the side of the winding road.......

Roll out the welcome mats for another f-ing golf course, Florida only has a thousand of them, dammit we need one more! Burn and bulldoze down the trees and bury the gopher tortoises alive because I'm just too damn lazy to drive an extra 10 minutes to Walmart so we need a new one nearby. Drain out the marsh and fill it up with development because I sure am sick of shopping at the ten million malls we already have. By all means why don't we just build another damn Disney World while we're at it because I sure love pretend nature. No wonder that alligator keeps coming back, he has no where else to live.

F-ing corporate pigs

The company my husband works for is about to make massive job cuts. I bought a lottery ticket tonight. I have a better chance of winning the lottery than he does in finding a job that won't get outsourced. The way things are going, the only jobs that are going to be left for Americans will be at Walmart. Then again I'm sure they'll find a way to outsource those jobs too....sighh.

A Boyfriend for Neenee?-this is a 're-run' she wanted me to re-post so that we could make fun of him all over again. Enjoy!

Neenee didn't have her internet hooked up at the time this was originally posted so she wanted to me to re-post it. We still haven't gotten over the grossed-out-ness this gave us. The story behind this, if you've never seen it before is, this guy is a friend of a friend. When he heard that she was getting a divorce, this was his way of requesting a date. He sent this picture to her cell phone with the charming words of,"So when are we going out?"

Um, How about never?


I DON'T THINK SO!!!

As promised here is the picture of the idiot who thinks sending naked pictures of himself is the way to a girl's heart.


Hey Romeo! Let me give you a little tip-my sister doesn't want you ok? She might be too polite to say it frankly-but FRRRANKLY(and luckily)-I'm not. And sending her this picture thoroughly grossed us out. I'm sure you're really proud of yourself to have actually taken the time to pose and primp for her and maybe this sort of behavior works with the kind of women you're used to but you're not her type. What is her type? Well number 1-not you. Number 2-the opposite of you. Number 3-men who don't send pictures of themselves thinking the recipient will be too filled with desire to be grossed out by the fact that a total stranger just sent her a creepy naked photo. You know, really, we feel sorry for you-because you're delusional-we can tell that you're really impressed with yourself-it's obvious you take care of yourself-but maybe no one has put you in your place before or rejected you. And guess what, Mr.Ienjoysendingnakedpicturesofmyself. You're not as hot as ya think and by the way the disco era is over-crazy cool medallions should be put away or reserved only for gangsta rappers.......I'm sure I haven't hurt your feelings and that you'll go on with your life thinking you're hot-hot-hot, but I just thought you should know. For future reference: a simple,"hi how are you, would you like to join me for lunch?" is usually the best way to go if you want to date an actual person with a working brain.



She also wanted me to mention that he's from New Jersey, sells insurance, and he drives a BMW in case there are any ladies out there who might be interested in his hot-beefcake-action....

This picture has nothing to do with this post

But I like it. Doesn't she have great legs? Actually maybe there is a relation to my topic.

I learned a valuable lesson this morning. I thought I should share it in case this happens to anyone else. It is this: It's probably not a good idea to prance around all day in pink high-heels the day after you fall on your ass down the stairs. That makes your injured leg very angry. You may think that pink high-heel sandals look better than comfy, old, brown, raggedy flip-flops with your outfit but just don't do it. You will wake up the next day and your injured leg muscles will feel like they are on fire every time you move. You'll have to walk up and down the very stairs you fell on using only the other leg, crying with every step while everyone in your neighborhood will see you on their way out the door and think you're an idiot who can't even climb stairs properly. You'll have to walk your dog that way-gimping all over the place. So instead of having a perfectly good leg that healed quickly because you were smart and wore comfortable shoes, you'll have a leg that doesn't work, feels worse, and is angry at you for choosing fashion over comfort. Then you will have a pity party for yourself on your blog only no one will feel sorry for you because they are tired of hearing about your damn leg. And all the giddiness you feel about your new haircut and color will fly out the window.