Fucking Success!!

I started this blog with a post about trying to quit smoking.  That day, I made it about half way through the day before I gave up and bought a pack of smokes.

I'm here to say, that as of right now, I haven't had an honest to goodness cigarette in 5 days.  5 DAYS!!!



I purchased an electronic cigarette.  One of those thingies that emits water vapor loaded with nicotine so you can smoke wherever you want.  It's supposed to be just like smoking, only better for you and allowed in restaurants and shit.

Liars!!  It is NOT just like smoking.  It's a sad, shameful shadow of what smoking was.  No burn.  No taste.  And certainly no satisfied "I just had a cigarette" feeling.

But it's better than cold turkey.  There was some real will power involved.  I'm pretty much over it now.  I've got my little vapor stick, and that's just fine by me.

After 3 days I could already breathe so much easier.  I'm pretty freaking proud of myself.  And since no one in my life seems to be all too impressed, I thought I'd tell the 3 people that read my blog. 

Ok....I've made up those 3 people, but 3 imaginary cheerleaders are better than the skeptics I live with.  So, GO ME!!  WOOT!!


Update:  Make that 5 weeks......Go Me!!!!

That Moment When....

So I've got a new thing.
I "mountain bike" now.  Meaning that I borrowed my dad's bike, which is technically a mountain bike and ride it around here and there.  There have been zero mountains involved.  Fiance Face actually started this trend.  His BFF got a new, rather expensive bike (I'd call it super expensive, but apparently in the world of bicycles it's just a "starter bike") on sale.  Well, when he got the bike home it ended up being too small for him.  Just Fiance Face's luck.  Because the bike was on sale, BFF couldn't return it.  So he traded Fiance Face for some gun or something and POOF, FF has a new bike.

Well now he's the biking champ.  He bought special shorts.  He bought a full face helmet.  He bought gloves and a Camel Bak.

I'm rolling my eyes.  He did this with a motor cycle too.  Someone gave him a motorcycle that needed work.  He's never ridden a motorcycle.  But sure enough, he buys all this crazy junk that people need to ride a motorcycle.  He never fixed the bike, and ended up selling all of his accessories on Ebay.

So, he's got a bike, and he "wants to ride his bicycle".  As I am still looking at my wedding dress with contempt because it OBVIOUSLY shrunk since I bought it, I decided I would bike with him.  To an extent.

But he's big on big hills.  Freaking loves riding up gigantic hills.  Says he loves the accomplishment of doing it.  Fuck you and your accomplishment.

I'm overweight, and I fucking smoke like if I get cancer there will be world peace.  I'm not going up that hill.  Tell you what, I'll go down it, then you can tow my fat ass back up it.

Fiance Face is also ridiculously competitive.  He has to do everything better than I do.  To the point of ridiculous.  So not only does he love the hills....he loves that I struggle to get up them.

Anyway, the point is that, due to all this fucking biking that's going on I've decided that I will go for a short bike ride on my own in the mornings.  I used to go run on my elliptical in the basement, but I secretly hate the freaking thing.  Biking is better.  If I'm going to expend a shit load of energy on movement, I'd like to at least get somewhere.

So this morning I go for a bike ride. 

It sucked.

My legs burned after 5 minutes.  I went yesterday as well, but I was only out for 20 minutes and didn't go far at all, and kept to the nice flat places.

Today, I challenged myself more.  I went farther.  And then I get this brilliant fucking idea.

There is a huge hill a few streets away from my house.  It's like a dip.  Huge hill down, then a slightly smaller but definitely steeper hill back up.  I decide, like a champ, that I'm going to tackle this hill.

So I start from the top, and peddle myself down the hill at what felt like break-neck speed, but was maybe 15mph.  A car passed me.  Driven by a very old lady.....
Then I start up the other side.  My theory was that if I had enough speed from the decline, I would just fly up the incline and not have to work too hard at it.

I'm absolutely not a physics major.  I never even took physics.  As a matter of fact, I stopped after biology, so I didn't even take chemistry.  Too much math.  I hate math.

Anyway, so I start up the hill, and I get probably half way up the hill just on the momentum I'd gathered going down.  Then it got hard.  I peddled hard, and hit the gear shift like a 6 year old with a bicycle bell.

I got like 4/5 of the way up, and just stopped.  I stood there for a second, straddling my bike, panting.

I give it one try to get the bike going again and not be that loser that walked her bike up the hill.  No good.

So I get off and start walking.  I only had maybe 25 feet to go (though I'm a terrible judge of distance).  I'm walking.......I look to my left and see a woman sitting on a porch in her PJ's.  Oh just lovely....someone saw that.

Then I look again.....and realize that the girl looking at me is sitting on the porch of my high school arch nemesis' parents house.

Oh good....it IS my high school arch nemesis.  Just fucking great.  No only did someone watch me definitely not make it up the hill, but it's HER, and I'm definitely heavier than when she last saw me.  GREAT!!

We all have one of those people don't we?  God I hated her.  I still can't stand her, and I haven't seen her in 10 years.

I get to the top of the hill and get back on my bike and start riding again, heading home because I'm totally done now.  I'm brooding about what just happened.  Then I realize....

Ha Ha!! You might have just watched me fail at biking....but bitch, you still live with your mom. 

Take that.

Shit My Kid Says....

My 9 year old is an amazing little kid.  She's smart, sweet, and goofy as all hell.  She thinks farts are hilarious.  She does an amazing impression of Carl from Sling Blade (which says a lot about Fiance Face, as my daughter has not actually seen Sling Blade).

The most fantastic and hilarious things come out of her little, innocent mouth.

The other night, Fiance Face was exceptionally tired.  I was sitting in a chair, painting my toe nails.  He was laying in bed, griping about how hard his day was.  (Oh poor baby, you stood behind a counter all day.  Shut up.)

So, being the loving girl I am, I decide to take advantage of his weakness and sat at the foot of the bed......nail polish in hand. 

I start painting his toe nails. 

Hot Pink.

Fiance Face:  "What the hell are you doing?"
Me:  "Making you purty"
FF:  "Stop that."
Me:  "But you'll be so pretty...."
FF:  "I do not want to be pretty.  Stop that right this minute."

I didn't.  He says he was just too tired to stop me.  So I painted one foot hot pink, and the other lime green.  When it was all done, he demanded that I remove the offending nail color.

I left it for a little while, but then gave in and started with the nail polish remover.

As I was taking off the polish, my daughter walks in.....the following is the conversation that ensued:

Kid:  "Mom, what are you doing?"
FF:  "Your mother assaulted me with nail polish."
Me:  "You LET me...."
FF:  "Yes, well....now she is taking it off."

Kid:  "You have hairy toes."
FF:  "ha ha, yes I do.  Guys have hair on their toes."
Kid:  "Oh, like girls have hair on their crotches"

We both almost died.  How do you respond to that?  I'm thinking a number of things.  Like "well, not all of them"  and "boys do too"  and "oh my lord, we're going to have to have a talk"

But the general response was Fiance Face and I stifling our gut exploding laughter.  A minute later the kid walked out of the room and he and I burst out into tear filled laughter of the likes that doesn't happen too often.

Fiance Face has now told this story to anyone that will hold still long enough to listen to it.  He's immensely proud of it.

I just keep feeling like there is bound to be a phone call home from school at some point.....

Putting Words in My Mouth

For my birthday, a few months ago, Fiance Face got together with a short list of my friends and family and bought me a tablet.  It was quite the surprise.  The thing is pretty nifty.
It's convenient for checking my email, playing games, watching Netflix....etc.
It is not, however, the same as a computer.
Most of the things I was thinking it would be useful for aren't really possible. 

Problem:  Typing is a pain in the ass with a touch screen.
Pseudo-Solution: Download a slide-type app that allows me to just slide my finger across the keys and it will pick the word I want.

Problem:  The slide app is an asshole.
Pseudo-Solution:  Get a stylus.

Problem:  Stylus makes note taking look like it was done by a 2nd grader and you have to write REALLY BIG in order to even read what you wrote.
Pseudo-Solution:  Download some program that will take my chicken scratch and turn it to type.

Problem:  Yeah, that app doesn't really work.
Pseudo-Solution:  Buy a 3 subject notebook and get over yourself.


One day I was stuck working at home, and I had left my laptop in the office.

But hey, I have my tablet!!

Um.................yeah.......

I finally had someone go pick up my laptop because trying to do the normal things we've all become accustomed to doing with our laptop or desktop computers is sooooooo freaking annoying with a tablet.

Started off trying to get pricing from a sales rep.  He asked me to email him the list of the items I need priced.  Normally, I would create a spreadsheet itemizing a bill of materials for ease of use by everyone involved.

I start looking at apps.......
Oh cool, they have Microsoft Office to go.....and it's compatible with my tablet.  Fantastic!!
No.  No it wasn't fantastic.  This crap was a $10 app, but I was willing to sacrifice the $10 in the name of making my technology work for me.  And the app worked just fine.  If I had a blue tooth keyboard and a mouse to go with my tablet, then maybe it would have been alright.  Oh, but then it would just be a laptop!

I don't know if I've ever mentioned that I'm a little OCD.  So, when I couldn't make the columns in my spreadsheet wider to accommodate the text I had just put in there....I kind of lost my shit.

I finally ended up just calling the guy and giving him the list over the phone.

The point of all this rambling is that, though my tablet is awfully nifty in it's own way, what I really wanted was a laptop.

I have an ancient, economy model desktop.  I have an awesome laptop at work, but it belongs to my company.

For my birthday, Fiance Face and I had talked about getting me a laptop.  Priced them out.  Settled on a concept.  It was all good.

I had mentioned....once....when they were on super-sale at Walmart....months before my birthday....that maybe having a tablet would be kinda neat.

So, my birthday comes....he hands me the box....wow, it's little.  Huh.  I wonder what could be in here?  It can't be a laptop.

I open it, and it's a tablet.  And I liked it.  But it's not as functional as a laptop.

I am absolutely not the kind of person that gripes about gifts that are given to me.  I appreciate the hell out of anything someone else picked out for me.  That is not what this little rant is about.

(I should also mention that this was the first gift that Fiance Face has ever picked out for me on his own.  Every other birthday, Christmas, valentines day, or anniversary he has either made me pick out my own gift, or had someone else tell him what I wanted, or kicked in on a group gift other people were already getting me....etc)

So last night......
Fiance Face and I are hanging out in our room.  I mention casually that I received an email advertising these really neat laptops for $199.

FF:  "Wow, that's a really good deal."
Me:  "I know.  If I had $200 I'd get one."
FF:  "What do you need a laptop for?  You have a desktop and a tablet."
Me:  "Well yeah, but the desktop is all sorts of obsolete, and the tablet is cool for (all the things I mentioned above), but isn't a real computer.
FF:  "Then why did you ask for a tablet?"

OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!

I most certainly did not ask for a tablet.  I asked for a laptop.  Actually, I asked for money toward a laptop, and I was going to kick in some of my own dollars to get the one I wanted.  YOU are the one who decided to surprise me with a tablet. 

This pisses me off.  It's just more proof that he really doesn't listen when I speak.  Although he also apparently doesn't retain information either.  We priced laptops together.  He's a raging computer geek, so of course I asked for his input while I was looking for a computer. 

I swear, he's on his way down the road to senility. 

Stick Figure Families

Frequently, on my way to class at night, I get stuck in traffic.

This makes me want to KILL EVERYONE!!!  Thanks Boss.  You kept me in the office 45 seconds longer than normal, and I missed my highway smooth sailing window.  Dick.

I used to be the type of person that covered my car in obnoxious bumper stickers.  I thought I was sooooo expressive.  It wasn't until I started getting stuck in the parking lot called "I-87 in the morning" that I realized that all these bumper stickers are doing for me is letting everyone know that I'm an asshole.

The clincher was when I was about 19 years old, and was trying to sell my car.  As your typical 19 year old will do, I wrote "FOR SALE" on my car with shoe polish because I couldn't afford a classified ad.  I also made sure to include my phone number.

Yeah.

So I get this phone call one night. 
Special Guy:  "Hi.  I'm calling about the car you have for sale."
Me:  "Oh, yes, I have a car for sale.  What would you like to know?"

He goes on to ask a few of the usual car buying questions, and then pops out with this insanity....

SG:  "So, I noticed a sticker that you have on your car.  It's a picture of a man and a woman, with a slash through it.  What does that mean?:

Actually, it looked a bit like this, only with stick people:


http://www.zazzle.com/no_more_jehovahs_witnesses_sticker-217191928668056664

Me:  "Um....well actually that sticker is supposed to give you the idea that I'm not interested in religious solicitation."
SG:  "Oh....so it doesn't mean you're a lesbian?"
Me:  :::silence::::  "Well, no.  Did you want to take a look at the car?"
SG:  "Would you want to go out sometime then?"
Me:  "No, sorry.  Listen why don't you call back when you are ready to look at the car and I'll have my boyfriend show it to you."

I was a liar.  I was very, very single.  Looking even.  But this dipstick didn't need to know that.

On my next car, I didn't have a single sticker.

I only have one now, as a matter of fact.  It's a sticker condemning horse slaughter.  I don't think anyone can really disagree with my stance on that.

I thoroughly despise people that feel the need to put those stick figure family decals on the back of their soccer-mom-mobile to show everyone just how super they are.  I don't need to know how many kids you have.  I don't care how many pets you have. 

They even have more descriptive stick figures, that indicate what type of people you've spawned.  A ballerina.  A surfer.  A soccer player.  A geeky dad with binoculars.  A mom in a wonder woman costume.  What-the-fuck-ever. 

I've seen people include their pets.  A dog, a cat, a bird, a freaking fish.  Who the hell thinks of their pet goldfish as a part of their family?  I can't keep a goldfish alive long enough to buy the sticker, let alone consider it a lasting part of my family.  A dog, ok.  A goldfish?  Fuck you.

My stick figure family decals would be so hilarious, that it almost might be worth putting it on my car.  But then someone might call some people in suits with clipboards.

It might look like this:

This is me.  Tired as hell.  Mentally exhausted.  Consumed by school, and work, and my household.  I didn't have room in the little bubble for the horses, and dogs, and kid, and boys.  But you get the point.

This one is Fiance Face.  Him and his bow and arrow awesomeness.  I tried to show his early hair loss, but I'm not sure I got that across.  Also, the bubble is self-explanatory.

This be the 9 year old.  Her whole life is rainbows and fairies.  She's totally oblivious to how awkward she is.  She isn't wearing any clothes for a reason.  She runs around naked entirely too much for a kid who's going on "tween".  Also, she thinks farts is funny.  This also applies to Fiance Face.

This is roommate #1.  I had a hard time deciding whether to draw him in his full camos, which he wears quite frequently for no good reason, or to draw him in his 3 piece suit, which he also wears around the house on occasion.  With sneakers.  And sometimes sunglasses and black gloves.  He's a weird one. 

This is roomie #2.  He's a full time student.  At 27 years old.  Enough said.

The stick doggies I would have to draw to be like some of these people who think it's cut to let everyone know that yes, you are the crazy cat lady......

I'll leave these people to it.  I'm content with my student parking stickers that serve a purpose, and let everyone know that I have been going to community college for 5 FREAKING YEARS.  I am not a full time student.

Don't Read This if You're Eating Right Now

:::This post is a little old, but I still think it's a hilarious story, so I'm re-posting it:::



So I'm standing in my kitchen, and I feel this little bump on my side. It hurts a little bit, but mostly is just annoying. Thinking it's probably a pimple, I leave it be for a minute.



Maybe 60 seconds later I go to touch the thing again (I also pick scabs and play with cuts in my mouth). Only now the bump isn't there, it's just sore. I wasn't near a mirror at the time, so I ask my daughter what it is. I lift my shirt a little.



My 5 year old says "it's a spider".
(I had felt this "bump" and it was most definitely not a spider.)
I said, "no it's not".
She says, in her little 5 year old voice "a flea then".
I doubted it.
"No, come on kiddo, what is it?"
So she says "well it's a red bump on your skin with little legs moving around".



What?



So I go in the bathroom and look at this in the mirror.....



Don't ever do that. Just find someone to handle it. Don't look. If I could've jumped out of my skin, I would have.
For anyone who hasn't figured it out by now, it was a tick. At least at that point, I assumed it was. I had to assume, because all I could see was this red, bleeding hole in my side with little black legs wiggling out of it. (Not a big hole or anything, but for the size of the creepy crawlie inside it, it was a gaping hole)



Now your skin will never be the same again. Sorry about that.



There were no adults in the house. As I was unlikely to hand my daughter a pair of tweezers and hope she had good aim (not that she was at all interested in doing such a thing. She wouldn't let me within 5 feet of her, afraid it would jump off me and onto her. She actually asked if i could just leave her there and come back to get her once the thing was disposed of.), we went over to my parents' house.



There is nothing quite like driving, knowing that you have a tick burrowing deeper into your flesh with every passing second. Of course, I couldn't even feel it before I knew it was there. But once I knew, every move of it's awful little legs was making my skin crawl.



I pulled into their driveway. Leaving the 5 year old to get herself out of her booster seat, I threw open their front door and yelled at the top of my lungs, "MOOOOOOOOM!!!"



My dad was standing not 10 feet away from me, holding a bag of coffee, apparently preparing to brew some. He raises his eyebrows.



Me: "Where's mom?"
Dad: "She's not here, what's the matter?" (I was a bit panicked, so who knows what he thought)
Me: "I have a tick on me, when is Mom going to be back?"



This last bit shows just how little faith we had in our father's competence. This notion that both my brother and I share is unwarranted, but exists buried deep in our subconsciouses. Probably thanks to my mother. Anyway.....



(In reality, I just wanted my mommy.....)



Dad: Well, is it somewhere embarassing?



Why, no...not it wasn't. It was just on my side, and if it positioned my shirt just so, all would be well.



So, for an anti-climactic ending to this tale, my dad pulled it out with some tweezers, (along with a fair amount of flesh, "just to be safe". I'm taking it as revenge for not trusting him to be able to handle tick removal) then dumped some peroxide on my wound. My little parasite is now dead, wrapped in aluminum foil on my kitchen counter waiting to go to the vet to be tested for lyme disease.



That's what I need.........Lyme disease.



The ick factor is through the roof on this one. I'm buying stock in Off, and I apologize to those who actually see me, because I'm probably going to smell like bug spray for the rest of my natural life. Once was enough for me.

Oh Milk. Tsk Tsk.

Apparently, Milk is in trouble for running some ad campaign that encourages men to get women to drink more milk, because calcium can reduce the symptoms of PMS.

I believe….no, I know….that there were no women on the committee that came up with that plan.

I’m not one of the angry horde that’s plotting to bring Milk down right now.  I think it’s funny.  I think a lot of inappropriate things are funny.

The best possible thing that could come from this is Milk’s new website promoting this concept.  If anyone actually reads my ramblings, go check it out because, even as a girl, it had me chuckling.

www.everythingidoiswrong.org

As a woman who most definitely suffers from PMS (ask Fiancé-Face), I have to disagree with Milk on the topic of things that piss me off when my hormone levels are out of whack.  They are not, as Milk suggests, Fiancé-Face forgetting my cat’s birthday.  I don’t even have a cat.  (Not really anyway, she lives in the barn.) 

Things that do piss me off on the other hand:

·        Crumbs in the butter dish – this is disgusting.  You really can’t keep this from happening? Why the hell not? I can.

·        Globs of toothpaste in the sink.  Adults should not have this problem.

·        When you invite someone to do something with you and they say “can I bring so and so?”.  This is like saying “I want to do what you’re doing, but I’d rather do it with someone else.”

·        When on the phone, midsentence you just being speaking to someone else.  Hello?  I’m still here.  Don’t be freaking rude.

·        Speaking of rude, don’t eat while you’re on the phone.  I do not want to listen to you chew.

·        Same goes for using the bathroom.

·        Answering your phone mid-conversation without excusing yourself.

·        Ok fine, rudeness in general.

·        People that wait at a stop sign for an entire minute, while there are no cars ahead of you, until you get to about 15 feet away from their intersection, and then pull right out in front of your moving vehicle, at around the speed of light.  There are usually zero cars behind you when this happens.  After which the douchebag in question usually proceeds at 10 mph under the speed limit.

·        Double dipping….ew ew ewe ewwwww.

This list is much, much, much longer than I have time for.  I guess it could be said that most everything pisses me off.

The annoying thing about Milk’s accusations is that the same things that make me stark raving mad when I’m rocking my PMS will still piss me off when my hormone levels are perfectly balanced.  I’m just more likely to express myself when I have a little nudge from my chemical imbalance.

So, the lesson learned should be don’t piss me off when I’m more likely than usual to bite your head off.