Dec 17, 2010

Freddy's Coming For You!!

As my stomach hastily grows (which happened in what seems out. of. nowhere!) I find myself often thinking of one of my biggest fears about being pregnant.  It's not the fear of ripping myself a new asshole or shitting myself or failing and flailing at raising another human.  NO!  Oh no!  Those worries are nothing in comparison to the "major" one.  And as I prepare to type this, I realize how asinine and potentially self absorbed and ludricrous this may sound.  But it's my fear nonetheless and I can't help but cringe at the thought of it. My biggest nightmare is stretchmarks.  On my stomach. 

I've had stretchmarks on my hips and thighs since I can remember.  Probably since around the 8th grade when hips grew into my still skinny frame.  My frame stayed very slender for many, many years but I've always had stretchmarks.  I've always been self conscious about them.  I realize that I am being over dramatic about them because most of them are faded and unless you're all up on my thigh you wouldn't notice them.  At least I hope;)  But I still can't help it--I don't wear short shorts & tremble at the thought of a bathing suit that does not entail board shorts.  However, I've always revelled in the fact that I've had a taught stomach, sometimes ripped, sometimes not, but always decent looking.  I've worn bikini tops with pride and have been known to show some midriff in my normal clothing as well.

Unfortunately, I fear as though post baby my stomach will look like Freddy Krueger came slashing his way mercilessly across my smooth skin.  My midsection torn and frayed with bright red lines snaking their way across my pale skin.  My pale skin that I will never again be able to show the light of day for fear of repulsion.  NOT disgust from the wandering eyes of strangers, but from my own retinas.  I realize that stretchmarks just happen and that no matter how much cream, body butter, lotion or oil I lather on myself that if my skin is predisposed to them (which it seems to be) that I will get them no matter my efforts to prevent.  Some women claim them as somewhat of a badge of motherhood.  An honor. thanks! I don't need stretchmarks strewn about my body to prove that I'm a mom.  Maybe that excuse helps the stretchmark-proud-sporting-moms to sleep at night, but I'm afraid it's the one thing that wakes me from my slumber!

Nov 11, 2010

Happy Veteran's Day

Today is Veteran's Day.  So, naturally everyone is thanking those that have served, are serving or will serve.  Being a veteran myself and being surrounded by military friends on a daily basis I greatly appreciate the thanks.  After all, being in the military is never an easy job.  It takes a selfless person to sign your life away on the the dotted line.  We may not always be happy with our decision nor agree with all that is entailed in our daily lives on the job, be we do (or did) it nonetheless, with heads held high.  It's a difficult thing to be far removed from family, miss out on birthdays and holidays, numerous weddings and sadly, funerals as well.  Though I'm thankful to have never been in combat nor lost a fellow brother or sister in war, my heart goes out to the countless lives that have been given in sacrifice of others freedom.  I can only imagine what it is like to hold a dear friend as they take their last breath. I can barely conjure the images that race through Jeff's nightmares as he tosses and turns at night, remembering all that he lived through and that others did not. 

I am grateful that so many people are thankful today.  I don't have school.  My friends don't have work.  We get to eat at a restaurant for FREE for lunch and dinner.  Bonus!  But it makes me wish people were more thankful on a daily basis, not just when the calendar says so.  It reminds me of a time in the not so distant past when I was in the Air Force still, out to lunch in uniform, asked the waiter for the bill and instead was handed this hand written note on a napkin:  

It gave me warm and fuzzies to know that we were appreciated and it wasn't even Veteran's Day.  Really, it's the small things that count. 

Nov 10, 2010


I wear upon my feet, the most awesomest of awesome sandals IN THE WORLD!  Meet the Yoga Sandals:

Their name by no means implies that you must practice yoga.  I surely don't. Unless you count the few times a year that I intend to start and then get sidetracked a week later, leaving my yoga "practice" to collect dust.  These sandals are great for anyone.  They feel a bit funky at first try because there is a seperator between each toe.  But man oh man, do I miss that feeling after trekking around in regular flip flops for a couple of days.  In regular flip flops, I notice fatigue in my feet and calves after a short while.  In contrast, when I wear my Yoga Sandals, I could walk all day long and my feet feel great! And as added bonus, I can paint my nails whilst wearing them and not worry about them getting smudged by nearby toes.  The only setback is the strange side glances & whispers I get from passerbyers.  If only I had a yoga sandal twin then I wouldn't feel so alone.  Wonder if I could get Jeff to rock some...

Sep 30, 2010

Turn that light off!

There are no night lights in our bedroom.  The LED screen on the radio is covered.  The curtains that are backed by a second panel and also with a tapestry behind it cover the window.  No light is allowed to come through.  Why?!  Because I live with a freak!  Jeff swears that he can see light with his eyes closed.  I'm not just talking about if someone was blasting a spotlight on his face whilst he sleeps.  Of course that would agitate us all.  What he claims is that he can see even the most tiny of emulated lights through the blackness of the night.  The light on the smoke detector, that is probably 12 feet high on the ceiling, urks him.  Yeah--that tiny, teeny, dull red dot.  For added darkening, he sleeps with a shirt draped over his eyes.  Just in case that smoke detector light wakes him up in the middle of the night. And don't even get me started on what he's like when the sun is actually glaring outside.  If he doesn't have sunglasses he is NOT a happy camper.
So now we always joke that he has thin eyelids.  Like the extra set that crocodiles have.  Or that this is his super power and he could go fight crime by the light of the moon.  Though he'd probably want a new moon as I'm sure the moon would be too bright.  Hell, the stars are probably blinding to him;) 

I tried to search online to see if there was a name for this "thin eyelids" thing but to no avail.  The only thing I could find were people more freakish than my hunk of weirdness.  I'm talking about eyelid surgery!  Double-layered blepharoplasty. Not to lift and remove crows feet, but the chopping off and re-sewing your eyelids! I guess some people with smaller lid openings want to appear doe-eyed but I really can't fathom letting someone near my eyeballs with a scalpel. Eck!

Sep 10, 2010


I recently won a gift certificate from Eden Fantasys via my friend Rita over at Fighting Frumpy.  I was super stoked to shop online, perusing the selection with Jeff.  We didn't get anything too insane.  Been there done that.  Plus we wanted to stay in the $25 gift certificate budget.  We ordered a game & some paint:)  I was soooo excited yesterday when a box arrived from them.  But then I opened it.  And the weirdness ensued.  A HUGE bottle of lube.  A vibe.  Hmmm I didn't order this shit!  WTF?!  Then I looked at the shipping form.  It had someone else's name and address.  The strange part was the address was in South Bend, IN.  SOUTH BEND!  That's where I grew up.  And it was on O'Brien Street which is the 1st street I lived on.  CRAZINESS!  What the hell is the likelyhood that of all cities in the states to send me a wrong package from, it's from my home town.  I just wish it had been someone I know-haha.

There was another time the cosmos brought weird shit my way.  When I was living in Guam (a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean), I was in a packed nightclub and turned around to see a girl I grew up with.  She happened to be in the Navy & her ship was at port for a few days.  What the hell is the chances of that happening? 

Sep 7, 2010

Working Out

Who says you can't multitask while driving? Yeah, I'm totally against texting while driving.  Unless you're at a red light.  Or in a traffic jam.  BUT there are many other things I often accomplish while simultaneously driving, always aware of my surroundings, always checking my mirrors.  First off, I go insane if I don't have music blaring whilst I drive.  I'm sure I'm very entertaining to the passengers in neighboring cars as I belt out songs, daydreaming I'm on stage, sometimes holding a pen as a microphone.  I also like to play the drums on my steering wheel.  A lot. I never do air guitar though because that's just dorky;)  I remember seeing this show from VH1 called Motormouth.  I thought it an amazing idea and secretly worried one of my jackass friends would sign me up for the show, airing my dreadful car concerts on national tv.  Alas, I lived in Germany at the time so it never happened.

I also do most of my daily thinking while I'm behind the wheel.  Which is why I don't write on this blog as often as I'd like.  My mind runs a million miles a minute thinking up thousands of ideas I want to write about, where I want to go, what I want to do, ideas for the house, my hair.  The list is endless.  Problem is, by the time I reach my destination where I could safely jot all down, I forget to do so.  Then I get home, get sidetracked or become a gelatenous blob of human goo whom apparently has no brain waves. 

The newest addition to my plethora of multitasks is exercising.  Whaaaa?  That's right! Working out my Kegel muscles baby.  Gettin' all buff and shit.  Now, these exercises are nothing new to my repertoire.  I've always sporatically done them to acquire, for lack of better words, more grip.  If you have a vagina and don't know what Kegel exercises are, I suggest you crawl out of your cave.  Click here.  And get to clenching!  I recently went from doing them just once in a while to doing them at least every time I'm in the car.  Not only do I still strive for that firm grip but I'm also hoping to prevent some things.  After I have this baby I really don't want to piss myself everytime I laugh, run, cough or sneeze.  I don't want to be known as Misses Peebody.  It may be wishful thinking.

Go figure that the exercise was invented, or at least popularized by an effin man, and so aptly received it's name from said dude!  Because, you know, he has vaginal pelvic floor muscles and knows exactly what's it's like loosing that tight feeling.  Uh, ok so maybe he does. I think it would have been much more fitting to be named something more feminine.  And sweet sounding. If only a doctor named Lillian had spread the word about this exercise.  "I'm off to do my Lillians" sounds soooooo much better.

Aug 1, 2010

Funk You!

<---talk about a shitty job!

Oh my goodness what is that stench?!  I just took a shower about an hour ago.  What the hell!  *sniff sniff* Armpits!  It's my damn pits, reeking of FUNK! 

Rewind to pre-pregnancy and I never wore deodorant.  I rarely sweat.  I could do a hard workout sans deodorant and walk out of the gym smelling semi-fresh.  But now, not so much.  I'm sweating my ass off just breathing.  And I stink. Like onions.  If I notice it, I can only imagine how offensive I am to other people.  Sorry guys haha. Blame it on the baby;) 

I knew with pregnancy would come weight gain, stretchmarks, leaking boobs, moodier days (like I need more of those!), possible cravings.  However, I was never warned that my body temperature would rise, rise, rise and I would go from the girl that's always cold if it's below 85 with a slight breeze, to the chick that's insessantly sweating like a whore in church.  Especially when I'm not even sporting a baby bump yet. Guess I'm off to get some aluminum & all the other crap chemicals-free funk reducer.  Or maybe I'll mix up some concoction of oils I have at home.  I'm just thankful I won't be hugely pregnant when the thermostats read triple digits in lovely Arizona.

Jul 27, 2010


It's been one week that I've officially known that someday, I will be called Mom. 

I took the 1st test while Jeff was at work & immediately freaked the fuck out because I've taken like a gajillion preggo tests in my life and never once has one been even remotely positive.  The urine usually speeds right past the 1st window on the stick to the 2nd window, blurting out the thick, single line meaning NO.  Before we talked about being ready to have kids, I would always secretly hope I got a negative reading.Once we talked about adding onto our family, I went into the pregnancy tests with a neutral feeling.  I've never cried or been sad at the negative reading.  I always just assumed that's what I would continue to see, as I pissed on a stick simultaneously pissing away money to EPT.  I just figured I would need some assistance getting pregnant.  The thought of taking fertility drugs & thus possibly having a litter of children at once is not very appealing.  After all, I'm a human, not a dog--which is what I'd feel like after birthing 6 kids at once.  Just sayin. But we pseudo tried for numerous months (try since about October).  We weren't all insane about it, checking basal body temps with me ravaging him because I was ovulating.  No!  We just sort of stopped being careful.  No more pearl necklaces for this girl;)

After pacing the living room, oh...about a thousand times, Jeff finally came home from work & then I took the 2nd test.  That too, was positive.  But it was such a faint positive that I thought maybe I had gotten a faulty 3 pack box of tests.  It sounded just like my luck, after all.  So I did what any girl would do, I consulted with a knowledgable person in this realm--one of my besties.  After all, she has 2 kids so she HAS to know whats up with this pregnancy test.  Right?!  After telling me that I have now entered the Denial Stage, and that I was indeed pregnant, she recommended to "take the 3rd test 1st thing in the morning.  If it helps ease your mind.  But you're pregnant.  For real."

So I did.  And it was the same.  We told our families and some very close friends but I didn't want to announce it to the world until we got an official word from the doctor, because I was obviously still swimming deep in this denial shit.  Last Tuesday I went to the Dr's.  The nurse, after I told her I had taken 3 tests already, laughed at me & said with dead certainty "you are pregnant, but we still want you to take a test here".  How was everyone so damn certain I was knocked up when the preg test box says it's only 99% accurate?  I could totally be that 1%.  Duh! 

But once the words flew out of that chicks mouth that I was indeed, with child, it really began to sink in. We've been on cloud nine ever since.  Even though it's only been a week, it already feels like an eternity.  Good thing noone has really been around us this week because we've been that obnoxious couple that won't stop talking about it.  We're both giddy with excitement, but also realize this is going to be such a huge rollercoaster ride of change.  My little alien (I've dubbed it this because it is so insane that there is this little poppy seed size thing, sucking the life out of me, growing exponentially & will soon come bursting out)--is only a little over 4 weeks.  ONLY 4 WEEKS! I'm so happy to know so early so that I'm not boozing it up & so I'm taking better care of myself.  But really, it's crazy to me because most people I know didn't find out until the 2nd or 3rd month. 

Now, if we could only hurry up and find out if we're having multiples! After all, twins run in both of our families.  Yikes!!

Update: After going to the doc for our 1st checkup they said even though conception happened 4 weeks ago, I am considered to be 6 weeks pregnant since they start counting 2 weeks after your last period and it's all a guessing game anyways considering pregnancies last from 37-42 weeks.  So, the baby will be here sometime in march--you know, when it feels like it;)

Jul 15, 2010

Old Man

Dad.  Yeah, the title refers to the song by Neil Young.  I DO NOT refer to my Dad or any guy in my life as "my old man".  Blech! Everytime I hear this song I think of my Pops.  His birthday (my Dad's, not Neil's) was earlier this month.  I didn't call him.  But this damn song keeps reverburating through my head.  I could've given his cell a ring, but he probably wouldn't have answered.  I tried him on Father's Day to no avail, then I called my Mom and wished her the same because really, she was my mom and dad.

I love my Dad.  I always have. 

My parents divorced by the time I was 5.  I remember the night vividly.  He was at work. Unbeknownst to him, his wife and two kids packed up some shit, left the house stealthfully under a blanket of dark skies, to never return again!  Okay--it wasn't really that dramatic.  He was at work.  But I'm sure he saw the shit coming!  We just left and stayed with my aunt & cousin which was AWESOME in my book because that was like my best friend at the time!  We could play all. the. time.  I was stoked!  Never once do I remember really giving a shit that my parents weren't together anymore.  I didn't cry and will them back together, making promises to be a good child and thinking everything was my fault.  (Does that kinda thing really happen like it does in movies??)  I just went with the flow.

My Dad was always there, but not in an authoritative way (my mom found other douches to take on that tyrannical role). But he never lived far from us, we could visit when the mood struck us, we were around him on holidays, the occasional camping trip.  As far as that side of the family, we definitely spent more time with them so we're all pretty close.  We were never traded around like ragdolls "You get them every other weekend"--none of that bullshit, thankfully!  I always obeyed my Father, because that's what kids in my day did.  You listened to adults.  That's as far as our connection went.  I never once asked him for advice, never once confided in him, never once cried on his shoulder.  My Mom bared the brunt of everything, good and bad, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. 

I DO love my Dad. 

I try to love him unconditionally but he really pisses me off!  I know he's proud of me and likes me to go out with him to meet all his drinking buddies.  It never really bothered me until the past few years though, that we don't have a closer connection.  Maybe it's because of the song.  I always connected with my Dad secretly through that damn song.  "Old Man take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you.  I need someone to love me the whole day through".  In my 20's I liked to party--HARD!  I never wanted kids because I knew that if I had any, especially in my early 20's that I would be such a shitty parent.  A selfish parent.  And I never willed that on a poor, defenseless baby.  I was like my Dad--all about myself, responsible by having a full time job but irresponsible in every other way, hopping from lovers to hopefuls in the soulmate department and everything in between. Something has changed.  I WAS like my Dad.  I still like to party but it's not as often.  And I want kids now and I know I'd be a loving, nurturing, caring and sometimes patient parent.  I would want my Dad to be a Grandpa and take some pride and satisfaction in that role.  However, considering my Dad's lack of interest in other's lives I highly doubt that would happen.  Case(s) in point:
  • my brother has a baby & another on the way. We thought that would be some sort of leverage to get our Dad to come visit but even if he did I doubt he'd be ooing and aahing over these little hyper, cute, sweet human beings. 
  • Our youngest sister (we have different moms) just graduated from high school & practically raised herself the past couple of years and he seemed more disappointed in the fact that he was missing a pool tournament than being elated in the fact that she kept her head on straight, despite the odds, and graduated with honors and a scholarship! 
  • When I actually told him about my serious relationship with Jeff (I've never spoken to my Dad about relationships before), he barely muttered a word. 
I don't regret my parent's splitting, I completely understand and empathize what it's like to be in a miserable marriage.  I am completely fine with not telling my Dad my deepest, darkest secrets.  But what I'm not fine with is that my Dad never calls, that the only way he'll come visit me is if I bother the shit out of him to do so, and that he doesn't take more interest in his children's lives.

I'm sure I can speak for all 4 of us kids by saying:
We don't ask much of you Dad.  You've had 31 years of parenthood to get your shit together.  We would love for you to be more proactive in the lives of your children--it could reap benefits in your own life.  You're a talented guy, funny and have a vast potential to be loving.  We just want to see and talk to you more.  Happy belated birthday.

Love your oldest and therefore wisest;) daughter,
Amy Rae

Jun 13, 2010

dont get your panties in a bunch!

"Are you fucking serious" were the words flowing from the 50something year old portly woman this morning. Early. 5am. Geez lady-do you kiss your mother with that mouth? I have a potty mouth to put many sailors to shame but at least I know how to tame it down.

I was waiting in line to check in & these two broads lugging 3 large pieces of baggage a piece-seriously with 25bucks a piece for checked baggage why would you have 3? A piece. Well I did say she was portly-perhaps those panties take up a lot of space?

Why was she flipping out & simultaneously entertaining me by being an ass in public? She couldn't get on the flight she was booked on. It was a little after 5 and her flight was at 530. Really lady?! Is this your 1st time or something? Because everyone knows you're supposed to check in a good hour ahead of time. If you're checking in an assload of baggage (pun totally intended) then you should come even earlier. Flights usually board 20minutes or so BEFORE your departure time, so really what the hell were you thinking? And why are you cussing out the poor lady behind the counter? She's not the dumb ass that didn't plan ahead & get to the airport in a timely manner. That lady behind the counter shouldve told bitchy lady to fly there on her broom stick. Or at least shove one where the sun don't shine.

Jun 8, 2010


Being true to my procrastinating self, I haven't written in a while.  It's not due to lack of things to ramble about.  I have plenty of shit to babble about.  The main reason is that I was out of town.  We went to visit family, see my youngest sister graduate from high school and went to a wedding.  We were gone for what felt like a month but in reality was a week & a half-ish.  My crackberry is usually glued to my palm when I'm at home, but during our trip there were numerous days where I only checked it once before going to bed.  I have no issues with disconnecting from my virtual world, blogs, texts & social networking all included.  There were a couple of times when I thought about pecking away a blog on my phone, but then quickly came to the realization that I'd rather daydream out the car window/share smiles with old familiar faces/gaze at the waves lapping at my feet while at the lake/fill in the blank.  

For a little TMI, I haven't had my period since March.  No, I'm not pregnant!  I apparently suffer from Amenorrhea, which is missing periods.  I guess I use the word "suffer" lightly, because it's not too bad of a thing to have.  I mean really, who wants a period every. single. month?!  Not me! Women take birth control that lets you not have a period every month.  Some women are envious of me. The major drawback is that I may not be able to get pregnant or may have difficulty doing so, but that's another post in itself.  The other setback is that since I skip periods I never know when I'm going to get the next one.  Sure, sometimes I get warning signs, but other times I'm just Niagara Falls without forewarning.  I have to carry tampons with me at all times.  The past few times I've had it have been during very inopportune times!  A nude cruise doesn't go too well with a tampon string dangling about.  The next time was while visiting a friend--being a crabby, bloated bitch doesn't make for an entertaining guest.  This time, I was at a wedding.  That's right--I had my period during our trip.  I started a day before the wedding (which was also the day of my bday)--the day I was set to wear not only a dress, but a very light colored dress.  Fuck fuck fuck! Besides the inconvenient flow of unwanted blood gushing from my nether regions, my period wasn't so bad the 1st day so there were high hopes of it being a mild menstruation.  Enter day 2 & the day of the wedding.  I woke up with what felt like Freddy Krueger mutilating my ovaries.  Then I sobbed & cried 3 months worth of extra estrogen out of my tear ducts.  I felt so bloated & unattractive and was loathing the thought of putting on a dress and smiling.  Then I took a Midol.  Hallelujah for drugs!     

May 13, 2010

Just call me P

My middle name should've been "Procrastinator".  Amy Procrastinator Miner.  No, fuck that!  It should be my first name.  Procrastinator Extraordinaire Amy.  Perhaps I should run down to the city hall and put in for a name change?!  I'm not really sure when this gnarly habit first reared its unruly head, but its been with me all through adulthood.  Now that I'm thinking back, I do recollect being on the school bus--to elementary school nonetheless--doing homework while the wheels on the bus went round and round.  Why the hell was I waiting til the last minute to do simple times tables?

I sure didn't come out of the womb as a procrastinator.  I came into this world full force, as somewhat of an overachiever.  I busted out of that cell almost 2 months early; tiny (4lbs 4oz to be exact) but ready to conquer all that stood in my way.  So why then now, do I put off everything in my life until I feel the breath of pressure panting down my neck?  Does my body really crave the endorphins that are released as I'm sweating my ass off at the thought of not making it to an appointment on time/not getting an assignment done/ studying last minute/packing last minute/fill in the blank.  Granted, I do work well under pressure but I would really like to be able to live like a "normal" person and just do things in a timely manner. Case in point: right now I should be studying for an exam, but instead I sit here and type.  Go figure! Perhaps I'll try to work on this "problem" of mine.  I will get right on it!  Tomorrow...

May 10, 2010

Sandman, Please Come Back!!

I used to sleep like the dead.  I probably could have slept in the median of a busy highway if I was tired enough.  It never mattered if I had a bed, a blanket or even a pillow.  Just give me a sweatshirt to ball up or  my boney forearm and I'd be good to go.  In my early 20s my roommate would come home from work to find me zonked out on the only couch in the living room.  Attempts to wake me were futile.  Unbeknownst to me as I drifted through la-la-land, she would have friends over, watch movies, make noise--all without even a stir from my zombied body.  Some days I would sleep until the next morning which was pretty awesome--or disgusting if you're an uptight clean freak--because I was already dressed for work (hey, I brushed my teeth & washed my face!).  So WHAT THE FUCK gives as of lately?!  I have been sleeping like shit:( 

Take the past couple of nights for instance.  I probably woke up 5 billion times.  5 billion agitating times.  While Jeff snoozed away in bliss, I was tossing and turning, wide awake every. fucking. time!  To add insult, the short times I was able to sleep were punctuated with uber weird, freaky, distorted dreams that I unfortunately can't fully recollect since I re-woke and re-fell asleep so many times.  I realize that "back in the day" I worked outside in the heat which may have aided in my deep slumbers but the other weekend I walked 16 muthafuckin miles and still only slept 6 hours!  I don't get it. 

I like sleep.  I relish in the fact that since we still don't have kids I can sleep the day away if I want.  Sleeping is not a necessity.  It's an event.  It's something I like to do in my free time. I don't feel as though I'm wasting my day while I'm dreaming away.  I'm just hoping that I'm having an off year (that's how long this BS has been going on).  This inability to sleep in odd places or anywhere really is becoming quite the nuisance!  I now hear every click-clack from dog nails on the wooden floors when I stay at my mom's, can't be anywhere near a snoring human (can hear that shit through headphones!) and every. single. time Jeff does his trippy PTSD induced nightly twitching I'm woken up.  Please oh please oh please don't let this be a constant as I'm getting older.  I miss my old friend sleep!

Apr 26, 2010

Top 10 Realizations When Carless

  1. Bus drivers suck ass!  Okay, so not all of them, but seriously, the bus I was on today was driven by a portly chunk of human being who must have been driving with someone else's feet.  Or so it felt as he constantly accelerated fast, then let off the gas.  Repeat.  The bus swayed back and forth so much I almost puked.
  2. It's possible to get slightly intoxicated from the alcohol fumes seeping through the pores of the old man in front of you.  At 1 in the afternoon, nonetheless.  Hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere right?!
  3. I have time to read a book:)  (unless I'm on the verge of yacking up my lunch).
  4. Teenagers are effin' annoying!  The route I ride stops at Tucson High and picks up a gaggle of these loud, obnoxious, trendy, horndogs.  I don't remember being like that.  Was I?
  5. The bus is the perfect venue for one of my fave pastimes--people watching.  Aside from the airport, the city bus has to be one of the best places to admire, cringe & laugh at the most interesting of human creatures.  I <3 it!
  6. Not paying for gas is pretty sweet!
  7. Your friends will think you're crazy for walking 5 miles instead of calling for a ride, because you just feel like walking.
  8. The phalanges and tarsals are good for more than just looking good with sparkly nail polish, snuggled into cute sandals.  Feet--they're meant for walking.
  9. Aside from being slightly inconvenient at times, life goes on without a car.  Gasp!
  10. You notice things you would normally never see when you whiz by in a car.  I've seen a bright pink house, a lady help a man (who looked as though he was on the verge of death) smoke a cig, a bicyclist bust her face open & a vagina tree.  That's right--apparently they grow on trees:)  

Apr 20, 2010

Oh Crap!

When nature calls, I normally have no problem answering. Even when I have to use a public restroom. I'm not one to play the game of being coy and pretending I don't shit.  Yes, I am a woman.  No, I do not magically digest my food in some super-human way where it dissipates from my body without gracing the depths of my bowels.  Anyone who can really do this please let me in on your secret because not having to go to the bathroom would be really sweet!

I know some people that can barely go pee, let alone drop a deuce, in a public bathroom unless it's spic and span.  I, on the other hand have no qualms whatsoever with going pee--whether it be a toilet, clean or dirty, or outside.  I'm not some freak that enjoys people watching me, but if I have to go, I HAVE TO GO! I'll take the slight chance of splashing a little on my foot as I'm popping a squat as opposed to holding it in agonizing pain until a suitable porcelain feature can catch my flow. 

Going No. 2 though is a different story.  Happily, I've never had to do THE Do outdoors.  To my recollection.  If I have, I've erased that from my memory bank. I tend to have a sick & twisted sense of humor at times and rarely get offended.  However, I don't do shit jokes.  It's not funny to me, I don't want to see anyone going, I don't want to smell it and I really don't want to hear it!  Peeing--I don't care if a friend is in the bathroom with me or if the door is open.  Shitting--I don't want anyone within a 5 foot radius of the door.  And if there's no fan to block out noise? I slightly panic.  I've been known to turn on the faucet to drown out possible sounds.  Not like anyone is sitting outside with their ears pressed to the door to listen to me drop the kids off at the pool.  But you never know;)  So, you can imagine how I felt when I was at school and had to go.  "'s during class so there shouldn't be a bunch of people in there, I can go real quick and be on my way" was what the voice inside my head said.  So being true to myself and going because I have to, even though I may not want to, I headed for the stalls in hopes that I'd have a few minutes of alone time.  WRONG! I swear I must have picked the busiest damn bathroom on campus.  These broads were coming in and out so often I was beginning to think I may be holding up some line that had recently formed.  Then one girl came in.  Then silence.  It was just her and I, sitting there, waiting for a toilet to flush or someone to cough or a couple people to come in and talk & create a diversion.  Silence.  "Fuck! I just want to get this over with already.  Why is there no music in the bathroom? What kind of place is this?" So I do what any normal woman would do--I flush and go as it's flushing.  I'm sure it's blatantly obvious I'm droppin' bombs when I'm constantly flushing, BUT. I. DON'T. CARE! Relieved that I was finally relieved, I was washing my hands and said woman came out of her stall, smiled and commented on my shoes.  At least she had a focal point to take her mind off the awkwardness.

Apr 16, 2010

just put a plug in it!


is what I've looked like all freakin' day!  Even though I'm enjoying the beautiful bounty of flowers & blooming things the desert is showing off, I'm not enjoying the allergies that come with them.  I'm allergic to Arizona! Seriously.  I've had an allergy test done and almost every tree, grass and plant that grows here tickles my nose and scratches my eyes.  It's so unfortunate because I absolutely love it here.  I'll take the allergies dammit.  Today has been by far the worst day.  As the histamine pummels through my system I try to ignore my body being invaded from the outside-in.  You see, I don't like to take medicine unless absolutely necessary.  I don't get sick very often and when I get the sniffles I just deal with them, drink lots of H2O, maybe drink some Immune Boost tea and hope for the best.  This usually works.  The only sickness I usually suffer from is the occasional hangover & being that it's self-inflicted I suppose I can't really count that.  Stupid wine!  But now I feel as though the meak & easily ignorable allergy is morphing into some monstrous cold.  Boo! Looks like I'm gonna have to kick this cold in the ass the "normal" way and take some drugs.  I have a lot of homework, a 4.2 mile run tomorrow--Pat's Run, (which will most likely be me walking fast and almost passing out when I attempt to jog), a visit with the family and studying.  I can't keep having people stare at me while I have this shit shoved up my nose.  By the way, it's making my nose appear to be very, very bulbous, which it is NOT! The constant changing of my "plugs" is wearing down our TP supply and they don't seem to be helping. Ugh...they're saturated and the ooze is fastly approaching my top lip.

Apr 14, 2010

The Great Galant

My car broke down recently.  The beast.  It may have to be put out of its misery.  It's been in the shop for a few weeks, initially suffering from a mysterious ailment, with a recent discovery that it may be a pricey fix (for our budget at least).  We have a long history, the beast & I.  After all, it's the 1st and only car I've ever owned.  I bought it in 2000.  It has been very kind to me, taking me across numerous countries.  After all, I had this car when I lived in Phoenix, Guam, Germany, Spain and now Tucson.  It has seen more of this earth than most people.  The beast has been neglected and abused by many, not just me.  The following are highlights from its adventurous and arduous existance:
  • had its door mangled (& replaced) due to an attempted & failed break-in
  • took many, MANY Phoenix-->Vegas trips
  • survived a typhoon in Guam
  • broken window in Guam (I had to cover the window with plastic wrap, so I was able to see while driving, for a good month before a replacement arrived on island!)
  • a friend (Staci!) drove it into a post sticking out of the ground (she was the D.D.!)--this was the 1st of many "scars" to come
  • survived a cross-the-globe transit from Guam to Germany (oh how I wished the ship would capsize so I could cash in on the insurance)
  • drove everywhere in western Europe, on the Autobahn, at max speed of 120mph, consistently
  • a friend (k-nuts) drove it into a sign on the road (D.D. again! Geez what's wrong with these people!)
    • This ripped a huge hole in the rear bumper. When we went to repair it, he put on bondo, we started talking & when he went to smooth it out, it had completely hardened. I planned on sanding it down but never did.  So now it looks like a HUGE wad of bubblegum is stuck on the bumper.
  • in Guam, electric workers drove away forgetting to disconnect lines from the truck to the electric pole.  when the tension caused the thick metal wire to snap, it recoiled AROUND. THE. BEAST, missing all cars near it, scratching every surface of mine
  • has slid through snow, up & over curbs and medians
  • a weasel in Germany got under the hood & ate through one of the spark plug wires
  • drove me (with a little help from yours truly of course), all my belongings & 2 cats from Germany to Spain (almost 1400 miles)
  • had a few bouts with minor fender benders, adding more character to its rough exterior
  • has had belts changed once, couple of tire changes, new radiator, couple of tuneups, the occassional oil & air filter changers and all around has been an easy to maintain car, especially considering my neglect
  • has seen numerous occasions of being slept in, being puked in & on, and many a midnight rendezvous
  • has witnessed me cry over failed relationships, felt the brunt of my fist on the steering wheel and heard the laughter that resonates louder than any song I've blasted through its speakers
The red beast saw me through my 20's--literally, almost the whole decade! It's no wonder the thought of junking it, because honestly, noone in their right mind would actually buy it, is so bittersweet.  I love my car, with all of its flaws.  From the front bumper that's held on with safety wire (no thanks to someone else), to the cracked dash that I have to pound with my fist to get the speakers to properly work, to the missing wheel stud & broken glove box that's been removed for about 8 years now so "I have more leg room", to the peeling window tint, to the sun baked splotchy paint job.  I love it all!  I feel as though I am getting rid of a limb--a very neglected, beat up & shitty looking limb.  But the thing that I love the most about my car (& that I'll miss dearly) is that it's paid off! Geez! I'm really not looking forward to buying a new vehicle.  Shhhhh.....I hope the beast didn't hear that.