not in my jeans..er, genes.

a good friend had posted on Facebook the other day how her daughter was inadvertently following in her footsteps...by getting into the art/publishing business...and my friend had done the same thing in her mother's footsteps - her mother an art major (like my friend) and both parents were into publishing. so she asked, how many of us out there HAD followed in their parents footsteps.

i got nothin'.

my grandmother, while she never studied, wanted to be a nurse. medicine fascinated her - but it was the Depression and hey - there was barely enough money to live, much less for something like schooling.
she LIVED to see them draw blood.

um, no thank you.

my mom has some mad math skilz. me, not so much. if math problems go higher than how many fingers & toes i have to count on...then there had better be a calculator handy.
photography? yep. my mom has a good eye. so i guess i got that going for me..

my mom & i got started in cross stitching about the same time. that's a wash.
however she now quilts. she would LOVE it if i started that as well. thanks, but no. i HATED sewing in home-ec, so sewing for pleasure? meh.

now. as for the sperm donor..er...dad...well...i don't know much about him since he left before i was born.

wait..i do know this: dad could put 'em away...and did so frequently. wait! i can do that, too!!
oh, and he also had a sarcastic sense of humor.

wait! i also am sarcastic!!! 
so. i am sarcastic and like beer. thank heavens for genetics.

persistent lil' buggers.

more changes for 2011. the bigger one for us, was, getting new insurance this year.

oh new insurance and new doctor - why do you torment me so?

we ended up switching from our PPO to Kaiser...i was reluctant to do so, but hey, a $3000 difference makes a difference - especially when half of your household is unemployed.

i really hated to switch. i loved our old doctor. he was young. rather hip. kept the Husband on the straight and narrow with his diabetes (conversely, he kept me on the straight & narrow. dammit.), and he was WAY too good looking for one man.

(best laugh Brendan had was after my first visit, i came home and announced that this doctor would NEVER EVER look at my hoo-hoo. not a chance. don't ruin it for me, k?)

but Kaiser, i have to say, wins the all-time world champion super-duper bowl for communication.

i have never EVER seen any company be as proactive and easy to communicate with. i've got an appointment with my new primary care AND an opthamologist this Tuesday - probably eye surgery in my immediate future, but nothing serious so there you go.

until today.

got a message from them, informing me that it was time for my annual scraping well-woman exam.
well la-de-freakin'-dah.

so a trifecta of fun awaits me. i'm getting examined, smeared, and dilated.

damn. it sounds like such a party, i may order out for wings.

luckily, my new primary care, although a good looking man, is not the rock-star god my old doctor was.

thanks be to God. that means he may see my hoo-hoo. time to spruce up.

diabetic diatribe - vol. 1

before we delve into today's subject, a request.

my stepfather is having pacemaker surgery Wednesday...installed, for the first time. my mother is nervous..and considering he's 81, well...it does make for some nervous moments.

of course, i'll let you know how it goes.




so. it's been a week tomorrow since i got privy to the news. a week since i started meds for the rest of my life and a week since my life changed.

but not the drama queen part. heck, i've been a master at that for most of my life.

anywhoooo -

yesterday, i got my very first test meter. i had one all picked out: it was tiny and cute and came in different colors. apparently, however, my doctor doesn't seem to fall for my ideas.

it's still small, but it's blue. i'm cool with that, but it sure ain't pink.

dang.

today i started monitoring me blood. yarrrrr. i'm checking 2-3 times a day, but today was a lot more, mostly because i'm still getting used to the dang thing. earlier this a.m., i was talking to my friend and fellow diabetic (i'm not only the president of the anti-sugar shack, i'm also a member!) and was whining about my delicate fingers getting some serious bruising because of the blood testing and not only that! i am bleeding all over the place.

stuck pig? thy name is me.

i asked what she kept her lance at. there are numeric setting on the lance so you can go thick or shallow...depending on you and your preference. she said her's was at three, which mine was as well. kinda low, really, but still! i'm starting to look like i'm rehearsing a scene from "Psycho! The Musical!"

this, cannot be good.

i've decided at this point that i need to go as low as i possibly can. and i move on.

then later in the day, i pass by her desk in time to see her checking her own blood, and i notice something...

she has the cap on her lance.

i do not.

well no freaking wonder i'm the Old Faithful of diabetics. i'm practically sticking a dagger in my finger.

so what have we learned today? for starters, that for someone that has had lot of experience with diabetics, i have NO idea what in the hell i'm doing. secondly is the fact that knowledge wise, i've got a long, long way to go.

and lastly - here's a stock tip: invest in Band-Aids. i'm single handily cornering the market in 'em.

i'm sensing a new book in my library: the Idiot's Guide to Diabetes.

stupid.

there are people out there that are stupid.

i'll give you a minute to let that set in.

yep, i know. really? stupid people in the world?? how can that be?!

a couple of weeks ago, we were watching some show that was exactly how stupid you can be, and still walk upright. the would-be Mensa applicant tried to rob a convenience store. the old coot behind the counter, after refusing to hand over the money, THEN electronically locked the door, AND locked himself behind the bulletproof glass.

*snicker*

and our aspiring thief was actually begging for the cashier to open the door with the ever-popular, "c'mon, man, i cain't (yes, not a typo) go back t'jail."
(p.s. - he was a skinny, stringy, greasy white boy)

Grampa behind the counter opened the sliding window half an inch (which made me yell at the TV, 'oh NO! don't do that, dummy!) and spat back, "well, then y'all shoulda thought o' that 'fore y'all tried to rob my ass."

yep. Grampa said ass.

which brings me to today's installment of stupid.

dude goes to John Wayne airport. dude is going to fly to Philadelphia, with a stop in Vegas, because dude got out of the Navy just a few weeks ago.

dude was wearing baggy pants. but underneath his baggy pants, was wearing bicycle pants. and inside those pants was cocaine.

d-u-u-u-u-d-e. you're stupid. like no one's gonna notice you're wearing baggy pants?

go to jail. go directly to jail. do not pass go. do not be a stupid-head.

he's dead, dontcha know.

the conversation at Arby's went something like this, as James Taylor's 'Fire & Rain,' played in the background.

'what a waste. he was so young and talented.'

'what are you talking about??'

'Jim Croce. he was only in his 30s when he died in that plane crash.'

'who?!'

'Jim Cro-che. the guy singing.'

'um...that's James Taylor, and he's very much alive, thank you very much.'

apparently the rumors of his death were highly exaggerated as well.

how can you continue to speak with your foot in your mouth?

that, Gentle Reader, is the question of the day: how can you speak? how can you freaking verbalize words when not only your foot is in your mouth, but most of your damn leg??

and thank heavens, i speak not of me.

today, while i was listening to my fellow employees bitch, er....express their frustration over the contractors we have (they're taking all the work, no, they take all the easy work and leave the hard stuff.) and other stuff.

(the Queen Boss was hosting what we call a skip level - where we get together without our immediate supervisors and can talk about pretty much anything.)

but when one of them said how he goes online to see how much work everyone else puts in their queue, well, that pretty much did it for both of us.

hmmmmm...you've got time to do that, but bitch about how much work we ask you to output? whatever.

but - that's not what really did me in today.

my friend at work and i started on the same day. we've been there through each others marriages and her eventual divorce and the suicide of her ex. so, when she called me later today, not sure if she should laugh or cry, well, i'm there for her.

with a hammer to smack the crap out of someone.

you remember me telling you about the girl we work with who got her grandmother's condo, after all the nastiness she talked about her and the horrible way she treated her? well, she joined Weight Watchers last year and really has done wonderfully well.

however...that hasn't stopped her from bringing in her superfat clothes that she can't wear to my friend.

so today - when they were down at break, she says to my friend - 'those shoes sure make your feet look big. they just look so skinny but long.'

oh...thank you i think.

then she flipped out the big one. when one of the ladies we used to work with came in the cafeteria and stopped to say hello, this lady complimented this other girl on her weight loss, then turned to my friend and said (throwing me a bone, she said), 'you look great, too - have you been losing weight?'

my friend said no, not really. then, the newly skinny mouthy one said, 'she's not losing weight, she's just wearing clothes that aren't so damn baggy on her.'

you just can't make this crap up. meanwhile, my neck hurts from shaking my head.

so i'm now calling my friend HoboMellie, or She-of-the-ClownFeet.

keep your eyes open for news from California, kids. skinny minny is going to be the first EVER with Athletes Foot on her tongue.

from the fly on the wall...

(or how Valerie was a smart-ass. again.)

the other day at lunch, we were having a rather animated discussion on our fearless youth.

our own. not the nation's.

you know...things we did when we were younger that now we shake our heads at and wonder how it was we weren't killed.

so as the conversation progressed, we reminisced about road trips we took. by ourselves. with no cell phones. about chances taken that we never would chance again. and in the conversation, one of our lunchmates mentions how she drove out to the desert.

by herself.

to find a guy.

that she had a crush on.

and surprise him.

niiiice.

then, somehow, the conversation changed (we do that a lot) to...online dating. and the same girlie says that a guy she's talking to overseas wants her to get a webcam.

and yes, probably for what you're thinking.

anywhoooo...

she says, 'i told him i didn't want to get one. i just don't think it's cool to watch while you chat.'

um, wait?

so Yours Truly says - 'wait. you won't get a webcam but you'll drive out to the desert to find a guy you were interested in.'

one of these days...i'll learn.

yep. we actually GOT weather here.

we have weather.

actual weather. in Southern California.

yesterday we got a buttload of rain. at times, frogchoker rain. big fat drops that totally freak Southern California drivers out.

freaks.us.out.

we have no idea how to drive in rain. i think on the average we get 340 sunny days (stop sticking pins in your ValerieVooDooDoll). so when it rains, well....

people go nuts. they either drive like idiots or...like idiots.

personally, i like the rain. i like cloudy days. maybe it's the latent Oregon genes in me. maybe it's the dark, Kurt Cobain side of me.

maybe i'm just weird.

bingo!

i like the rain. i'd rather be at home, staring out the window, watching us get weather.

weirdo.

my wife's gonna put me in a home.

or so says Bill Engvall.

in my case, it's gonna be Brendan.

i realized this a.m., as we wandered through the OC Swap Meet, that on our last trip, i purchased a fruit company packing label.

i don't know where it is.

then i remembered at my trip before this trip to Target, i bought a mini Christmas tree - suitable, as the label said, for small rooms, RV's offices or apartments.

dude. it's a dang foot tall. it's suitable for my old Barbie Dream House.

anyway.

like i said, i bought this mini tree. i even bought mini ornaments.

i don't know where they are.

so apparently i've lost what was left of my mind. CMS perhaps? (can't 'member shi....) Alzheimer's? hmmm... the possibilities are endless.

so...Kristie? i have an idea for a Christmas present for me. ginkgo biloba.

wait. forget it. i'll just forget where i put it.

It's a memory.

some philosopher once said, 'The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.'

if i ever find that dirty bird, i'm popping him one square in the mouth.

before i begin my tale, allow me to wish you all a belated Happy Thanksgiving. hopefully, your day was filled with love and family and lots of full bellies to boot.

i'm coming to you today from my sister-in-law's office-slash-scrapbook room-slash-spare bedroom. cousin Marlen is celebrating her birthday with us here in the States, instead of Ireland, and considering she spent WAY too many hours at the airport, well, it's a miracle she's still got a good attitude.

her flight originally left Ireland Sunday morning around 1pm PST., due to arrive in San Francisco about 12:30pm, then a puddle jumper over the hill to Reno. her layover in San Francisco would be longer than the flight.

truer words never spoken. or written.

fog had rolled in to The City by the Bay. flights were being cancelled left and right and yes, hers was amongst them. the three hour layover stretched into a four, then five, then six hours.

she finally got in to Reno around 10:30 pm Sunday night.
oy indeed.

then came Thanksgiving morning.

B & i were up around 3am, he only having two hours sleep, i with four. and those of you who know me well, also know a)how cranky i am with little sleep much less b) how cranky i am in the a.m.

let me just say, poor planning and the Powers that Be were not working in our favor that morning.

we got to the airport in what would be, on any other day, be plenty of time. what neither of us took into account, even me the self described Most High Princess of Planning, was that IT WAS A FREAKING HOLIDAY!!!! THERE WERE PEOPLE AT THE AIRPORT!!! A LOT OF PEOPLE!!!

why? you should've left yesterday! most busy travel day of the year, blah, blah, blah.

um, hello?! do they send the news crews to the airport to report on the insanity of travelling on Thanksgiving day? NO! they're there on Wednesday.

which is when all these people should've been at the airport. not on Thanksgiving. not when the Princess and her Consort are flying!

Mr. Murphy? writer of Murphy's Law? meet Mrs. O'Mahony.

if you've already read Brendan's account of the story, then i won't bore you with the details. let me just tell you this: when we did get into San Jose to change planes, and i saw that the plane we were on stand by for was boarding, i uttered a few profanities, rushed up to the counter and said, 'i have no idea where i am, but i want to go there (frantically gesturing at the sign with the flight number to Reno).'

i am positive i gave the chick behind the counter the best laugh of her day.

i am a firm believer that i am blessed beyond reason. we were blessed beyond all reason yesterday. by all rights, we, due to our poor planning, should never have made it. i was prepared to actually plan on flying to Reno today, when things were a little more calm.

but once again, God is better to us than we deserve, and here we are. only two hours later than i originally planned.

plan. hmmm. perhaps it's a word i need to work on just a bit more.

photos later.

(oh and by the way? we had about six people, including my nephew playing Yahtzee last night. the kids all got bored and left the game so it ended up being just a few of us. and yes, Dean, He Who Would Be the King of Yahtzee, left the game as well. after totalling up all the game cards, the boy STILL would've won. so, as he predicted, i went down in a fiery ball o' Yahtzee flames.)

smarty pants.

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

especially in the crap, er...craft room.

they're 16oz paper coffee cups, and the lids, too. regular scrapbook paper, cardstock to make the sleeve, some ribbon and on the top (even though you can't see 'em) matching paper filling the indent on the lid and a holiday brad...just to be festive.

my fave, i gotta say, is the top one. i know, it's not Christmas in the 'traditional' sense (Husband does NOT like that one. all more reason for me to like it - bwa!), but it just seems fun to me. Love, Elsie paper & some cutsie sparklie ribbon.

these are going to the supervisors @ work for Christmas (so if you're a supervisor, just forget you saw these, 'K? kidding. no one of the management team reads this. which is good, cuz, you all STINK!!! so kidding.), with a Starbucks giftcard and something else...not sure what yet, but i've got till the end of the month and next month to think about it.

if you want a template to cut for your own cups, let me know.

in other news...

guess who's coming to Thanksgiving dinner?! cousin Marlen is flying out next Sunday to my sister-in-law's for two weeks. AND my brother in law is coming over from Sacramento with his two boys.

it's a mini family reunion. now if Marlen could only get her brother to come out sometime with her...

oh, the trouble we could all get into. moreso.

and tonight, we watched 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas.' the original, not the movie, thank heavens. talk about Instant Holiday Spirit. AND our satellite has a new feature on the info button...you can see when it was originally aired.

this aired 12/22/1966.

1966?! good grief. i suddenly feel much, much older. add to that that Friday was my 20th anniversary at my company, well...

who am i kidding. i am old.

i just can't decide which makes me feel older - 1966 or 1987.

never mind. i'm just taking my walker back down to the home.

great googley-moggley!

so - while perusing my usual list of suspects, er, fellow bloggers...i found this on Kenny's site.

i'm 45. according to my answers, my virtual age is 29.4.
(some would say much, much younger)
i can expect to live to 90.6 years.

oh dear heavens.

well, OK.
but only if i don't have to wear any Depends. 'cuz that just ain't right.

and i'll probably still be pissy and raising hell at the nursing home.

gooooooo me!! kicked out of the finest nursing homes in America! hell, even at 90.6, i still got it!
i rock(ing chair). and don't you ever forget it.

you smell somthing?

if you live anywhere else in the world, and you wake up to the strong smell of smoke, methinks you would likely panic slightly, gather your wits, your loved ones and any and all important documents you might need and, depending on where you found the smoke was coming from, get the hell out of your home.

if, however, you live here where i do and wake up to smoke, you just realize that there's another dang wildfire here, close the windows and head out to the 'net to see where it is.
then, you see that the Governator has declared seven counties here as disaster areas due to wildfires.

ooops.

so we have a few going on here. a big one in Malibu, which is about 60 miles west from us. it's probably that one that i can smell, but believe me when i say that it smells more like six miles from us, rather than 60.
[edited to add: ooops. i guess there's a fire also in Ontario, about 60 miles north of us, as well, and another one i think here in the O.C. the TV news is showing closures of roads in south O.C.]

here in Mostly Smoggy, er, Smokey California, we have these outta control winds called the Santa Anas. they're at their worst in September. and yes, this is October, but the winds were horrible yesterday.

they always effect those of us with allergies. my mom suffers the worst and usually ends up losing her voice for a few days. surprisingly, she hasn't. yet.

seriously, here you cannot have these kind of winds without having some kind of fire, somewhere.

waking up this morning, however, was like waking up in the middle of a bonfire...just without your biscuits burning. job one, was turning off the window fan in our bedroom. next, try to close some if not all of the windows.

and dang if i can't still smell it.

there will be a buttload of ash out there today. so it's a good thing i didn't wash my car yesterday. i thought about it, but just felt lazy.

see?! being lazy paid off!! HA! you were wrong, Mom!!

i remember some years ago when we had a pretty big fire out here, that the ash was settling pretty thickly on the wipers of my car. the asphalt was gray, instead of black.

the sky here usually has an orangy tinge to it, thanks to the smog. but today, it'll be brown.

so let's pray that the Santa Anas go away, so that the firemen can knock these fires out. that no more people lose their homes...or worse.

because if i wake up to the smell of something, i'd like it to be the smell of someone cooking me breakfast.

dream on, little girl. dream on.

more weird mail.

wait a minute.
someone needs to tell these two something.

i get an email in my Bulk box today.

it was from Viagra. the subject was Cialis.

greed is good, but isn't that too much of a good thing?

spam mail. a never ending source of entertainment. and blog material.

where would i be without stealing?

new material, that is. shamelessly stolen from my girlie Linda, who i still love, even though she won't take my money for postage.

HA!

Five Bad Habits (and i agree, sweetie...only five? dang. i could keep y'all here all.dang.day.)

1)being sarcastic. now i realize it may not be that bad, but amusing as it can be, it's probably not the best way to be.

2)money. i probably spend more than i should on silly things, but i notice lately i'm a stress spender.

3) scrapbooking collecting. a lot like #2, but i'm really trying to USE more and BUY less. sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

4) Wicked Wednesday. my friend at work and i have this habit of being, well, not nice on Wednesdays. it just started and now i'm really trying hard to stop it. because although we laugh our bums off sometimes, it's not part of the Gentler/Kinder me i'm working on.

5) being lazy. i'm trying to not put off things i need to do - for myself. wait. that could be construed as being selfish. maybe i could make that #6.

in other news...

i got my nose pierced yesterday.

wait...what? i already did? you think i've lost my mind?

that would be right. on both counts.

seems that yesterday, after showering, i was blotting my hair, then wiped my face. and yes, i managed to pull the stud out almost all the way.

once a klutz, always a klutz.

spent almost 20 minutes trying to get it back in. because it's in an 'L' shape, i couldn't get it past the bend.

the Husband wouldn't touch it. grosses him out.

so finally, frustrated and yes, crying (not because it hurt, because i was SO FREAKING FRUSTRATED), i pulled it out. and later that day, called the tattoo parlor that fixed my stud last time, and found that yes, the piercer was in and would be till closing.

which is 2am. i ain't a-getting a piercing @ 2am. i'm either sleeping or...sleeping.

so, after work, i took the stinking horrible nasty 91 freeway down to their establishment. not that the freeway is in bad shape, it's just that it's one of the major freeways in Mostly Smoggy So. Cal. that is ALWAYS messed up. either traffic-wise, or accidents or sleeping bags in the lanes.

yes. it really happened.

i got there, picked out the stud i wanted (blue. again)and filled out the release form. again.
told him i'd like to have it in the same hole, but when he looked at it, he got 'the look' on his face. the look that says - well, i could try to reinsert it but it ain't gonna be fun and i think this'll really hurt. a lot.

so i said, go for the other side.

(see - even though it had only been 8 hours, he has told me before that nose piercings close up really quickly. and although i could've kept the stud where it was, it wasn't pretty, hanging half way out of my nose, and i'm not into grossing out people.)

kids. it.didn't.hurt. seriously. i was bracing for it, because it hurt when i first got it pierced. it hurt even more when he replaced my stud. but this...not an owie, or a tear was shed.
and this place is quite specific on their after-care. wash 3 times a day with anti-bacterial soap and water on a Q-tip. follow with Bactine on the Q-tip and make sure to rotate the stud to ensure the Bactine gets in the hole.

man. my original place told me to wash it. these guys are serious. i like that.

so , now i have a matching set. a red owie on the left side. a new blue stone on the right side.

fun.

carpe Saturday, everyone!

day late, dollar short. again.

courtesy of Linda & Melissa. one word Wednesday. you can answer these questions with only one word.
hmmmm..since when have i ever talked in one word?

that in itself should be a challenge.
1. Yourself: cranky
2. Your significant other: driving
3. Your hair: flat
4. Your mother: quilting
5. Your Father: who?!
6. Your step father/mother: grumpy
7. Your dream last night: weird
8. Your Favorite drink: beer (because diet coke is two words)
9. Your Dream Car: convertable
10.The room you are in:hot
11. Your Ex: who?
12. Your fears: death (not mine. others)
13. What do you want to be in 10 years: mommy
14. Who you hung out with last night: husband
15. What You're Not: funny
16. Muffins: carrot
17: One of Your Wish List Items: babies
18: Time: evening
19. The Last Thing You Did: read (blogs.)
20. What You Are Wearing: clothes (and the angels rejoiced)
21. Your Favorite Weather: cold
22. Your Favorite Book: biographies
23. The last thing you ate: cookies
24. Your Life: dull
25. Your Mood: cranky
26. Your Friends: rockin'!
27. What are you thinking about right now?: ice
29. What are you doing at the moment?: typing
30. Your summer: hotternhell
31. Your relationship status: married
32. What is on your tv?: Simpsons
33. When is the last time you laughed? today
34. Last time you cried?: yesterday
35. School?: maybe

your turn!

when Melissa tags...

who am i to argue? not that i'm worried about her suddenly flying out from M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I to kick my bum.

but she might just tell Jacqui to do so. and she's just a hop up the 5. that i can worry 'bout.

kidding, girls. you know i love you both.

so. here's the tag:
Here are the rules:1. You have to post these rules before you give the facts.
2. Players, you must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of their middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.
3. When you are tagged you need to write your own blog-post containing your own middle name game facts.
4. At the end of your blog-post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog. (ed. note: why do i need to leave a comment? if they are reading me, then they know they've been tagged. 'sides: i am sooooo lazy.)

L-is for the many ways i'm lazy. did i not just tell you that? come on, then.
Y-youthful. not that i am any more, but inside, i still think i'm in my 20's. i used to feel still 17, but i've given up on that.
N-neurotic. just a little. and about certain things.
N-nasty. at least lately. i'm just angry about a lot of things, and unfortunately this is how it's coming out.

(y'know what's cool about this, Melissa? i didn't have to deal with seven letters like you did. muh-wahahahahahahha!)

therefore, i tag:
Cyn
Kenny
Becky
Jenny

and, of course you may play, even if i didn't tag you. let me know if you decided to, so i can be nosy and see your answers.

rassenfrassenschmuckyaholes.

this will not come as a surprise to most of you, and i don't want you to be alarmed, but....

there are a-holes out there.

yep. i know. how long have i been around? and i'm just figuring that out?

well, i'll qualify: some are aholes, some are just schmucks.
what's the difference?
an ahole is just mean. a schmuck just doesn't know any better.

case in point.

yesterday, while talking to my boss, our department assistant came up with some papers for him to look at. then she saw my arm. my leprosy ridden arm. the one i got a sunburn on and is now peeling.

you'da thought she won the lotto. practically jumping up & down she was, excited that my arm is peeling.

"can i peel it?!" she said, clapping her hands. seriously. she was clapping her hands.

ummmm, no!

the look on her face was like a child's when you tell them they cannot have the toy they want more than anything else in the world.

"please?" she beseeched. "i love peeling them, i won't hurt you and i really like it when it comes off in a big piece."

no. go get your own burn, i said.

she was truly disgruntled. so sorry, but you ain't a-peeling me. i am not your personal banana.

and lest you think i'm being unreasonable...know this: before she came down yesterday, she told my friend her stomach was upset. why? she had eaten some shrimp that had been in her car. all day.

hmmmm.

that, Gentle Reader, is the definition of a schmuck.

now in case you need one for an a-hole, consider this:

someone tried to set a fire near the Husband's motorcycle in our carport.

niiiice.

i came home today to a note stuck in my door from our handyman...one super cool guy who really cares about what he does - a rarity these day, no?

anywhoooo...
he was fixing the parking gate over on the other end of our complex, when he happened to notice something and assumed it was trash he needed to pick up.

it was only when he got over there, he could see it was some charcoal briquettes and some slightly burned paper. most likely some pyro teenage boys thinking they were funny.

there's been a few other incidents...a fire started in a dumpster. someone trying to start a fire with old athletic shoes.

it's good to know, isn't it, that some people out there are soooo dumb, they don't even know how to set a good fire.

obviously they never were in Scouting.

there is a good laugh in all this...while our handyman was talking to the police (yes, he called them too, and submitted a report on our behalf), another tenant came by and chatted him up about what was going on, etc. then, this tenant said that we probably set the fire ourselves so we could get the insurance money.

riiiiiight. we're gonna set fire to our own crappy stuff, possibly lose the entire carport and people's goods AND risk jail time so we can get a few hundred dollars.

wait! i think it's another schmuck on the list!!

hopefully they know how to build a good fire.

peace out.

do the clam!

i, and others of my generation, have it good.

when we were growing up, we had some interesting role models. old traditions of what women are and should do were being shattered. women re-entered the workforce en mass. they worked (and still do) on destroying the glass ceiling. they burned their bras.

well, two outta three ain't bad.

but my point is, to quote a certain old cigarette commercial, we've come a long way, baby.

except for me.

Gentle Reader, i am a baby. bay-bee. however, i can rescue spiders (i hardly ever kill 'em, i try to set 'em free) - i don't freak out at bugs, snakes or sales. (don't get me started on the missing "chick genes," that the Husband says are gone...that's another post)

but when it comes to my food - it needs to be different. how different?

like not look like it's original packaging.

here's an example: not long after we got married, we went out to dinner with friends to a seafood restaurant called the Crab Pot. they had a special called, you guessed it: the Pot. it was a traditional New England seafood boil: potatoes, corn, shrimp, and whatever else - dumped on the paper-covered table in front of you.

it's most neanderthal in nature. grunt, grab and grub. i have no problem with that...except...

the shrimp had eyes. because their heads were still on!!

ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew.

couldn't do it. just couldn't do it. i really like my food to, well...not look like it's original packaging.

my pork can't look like Porky. my steaks not like Bossy and my fish should not, under any circumstances, look like Nemo.

fast forward to last night.

dinner started with the most faboo clam chowder ever. EVER. then came a bowl of clams & mussels. never having either in the shell, well... it was an experience, but they were good.

then came the centerpiece of the dinner: a whole Maine lobster. do let me repeat that: whole.Maine.lobster. with antenna. with eyes.

holy freaking crap.

neither of us have had any experience with a whole lobster. or crab, either. when we've gone to Mexico for lobster, it's been cleaned up. the nasties taken off. NO FREAKING EYES!!!!

so, being adults in age only, we attempt to get cracking.

sorry. i had to say it.

we eventually called on the maiter'd for some pointers, then went back to the task at hand.

wait a minute. what the hell is that green slimy crap?!
the Husband leans across the table and says "avoid it."
but what is it??
not sure, he says, but avoid it.

avoid it?! damn! it's everywhere!! how can i avoid it? ew.ew.ew.ew.ew.ew.ew.ewwww!

meanwhile, Larry the Lobster is still fixing a steely eye on me. i was trying to keep my Big Girl Panties on, but kids, it was getting harder and harder.
even though it was completely all in my head, i could feel my tum-tum getting a little squirrley.

it really was good. it was just something i wasn't used to..or the Husband, either.
on the drive home, he was convinced that all our problems could be solved by the interenet.

"i'm gonna go to ask.com, and look up How to Eat a Whole Lobster. then we'll have instructions and can do this better next time."

there can be a next time. really, there can.
but there just better not be a head. or eyes. or green crap inside.

this is ridiculous.

i am freaking 45 years old.
i have a zit.
on my nose.
right above my nose piercing.
and if that isn't bad enough, another one is right on the end of my nose.
can you say Christmas in June? 'cause i look like Rudolph.
i have bags under my eyes that the TSA is looking to check.
and i just pulled the stud partially out of my nose. again.
owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.owie.

and it's only 6 a.m.
can't even imagine what the rest of the day holds. yipppeeeeeeee!