Two hours of my life I'm never getting back...

I don't mean to sound like I'm bitching about the way my school system handles things...

BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA...who are we kidding?? I'm ALWAYS bitching about the way my school system handles things.

So here's one more for the road.

Today was school registration, yo...from 1-6 today, 8-11 and 12-2 tomorrow. A lot of convenient hours for working parents, eh? Not to mention that if you wait until after work, you're there until at LEAST 9pm. AT LEAST. So I decided to go on my lunch "hour". Ahem.

Let's be very clear. If I'm going to take a 3 hour lunch, it should involve me, Julie, Tigger, Pea and some adult beverages. NOT me and every white trash, wife-beater tank wearin', no showerin', no job havin' redneck with loud, dirty, disrespectful little piss-ants for children and no teeth (or even worse, really, really bad bleach jobs, ewwwwwww). But no. It wasn't to be. I got there at 12:45 thinking I'd be one of the first in line. Apparently everyone had this thought, because there were about 40 "people" in front of me. And I use that term loosely. I left my job at 12:15, I came back at almost 3:15. No, we're not new students. No, none of our information changed. This is seriously how.long.it.takes. I wanted to light myself on fire in protest, but I'm wearing great shoes today.

This one woman (and I use THAT term VERY loosely) couldn't a) control her children and b) stop running her mouth about how her husband is in the emergency room. Ummmm, you're kidding me, right - your husband is in the ER and you're standing in line to pay for book rental?? What is wrong with you? First - tell your kids to stop screaming, running in circles and beating the crap out of each other while singing "you can't catch me" at the top of their lungs. Second - talk to the principal - you don't have to pay book rental until November. WALK OUT THE DOOR. Please. Because your kids are making me want to start cutting myself to forget the pain of it all.

Too dramatic?
Hmmm. thought so. But it was baaaaaaad folks. Bad.

So Owen is registered for the 4th grade. Hell, Alex was registered last year. Whatever.
I *heart* school.

You put your head in, you put your head out

you put your head in aaaaaaand...

we strap it down to a board with foam pinscher-like things that come up around your neck. And then we tighten those, so that when we apply the pounds to the thingy, it literally pulls up on the pinscher things and pulls your skull upwards away from your neck/shoulders. Ummm, yeah...this, boys and girls is what we call traction. Can you say traction?

And immediately super-psycho PT lady looks at the order and says - "huh, he ordered up to 10 pounds. You can barely feel 10 pounds. We'll start you at 15."

WHAT? ummmm, okay? Because that ortho doc is clearly CRAZY.

I took my NSAID (doesn't this sound important?) this morning, and some ibuprofen this afternoon. So far I don't feel horrible after my 'treatment' this morning. I guess that's what they're calling it at the S&M PT school now.

I guess I should be grateful. Some traction devices can look like this:

Doesn't THAT look pleasant??? So given the two alternatives, I'll stick with what I have. Soon they'll have me hooked up to that device that almost-killed the man in black on the Princess Bride.

And ready or not, folks, it's football season. Owen is happy to be playing, so happy, in fact that Kevin had to tell him to quit smiling during tackling practice. Kevin is COACHING - even when he SWORE that he wouldn't, because Owen needs an activity where we're not uber-involved. And because he doesn't know anything about football. Just ask him. But the guys that are coaching Owen's team like Kevin and think he's great with the kids, so he's in. Even though he doesn't know anything about football. This oughta be fun.


Alex might be playing some team sports with his school this year, so hopefully I'll have some fun pics to add of him. If not, I'll sneak into his guitar and drum lessons and try and get some candids. He's taller than my mom now, will be taller than his dad soon. And still has chicken legs like my dad. :)

You're f*(*#&# kidding me, right?

Every now and again, there are things that make you go hmmmmmm...

And then there are those that make you go "You have GOT to be fucking KIDDING me!

Hmmmmm is when Lance Bass is gay.
YHGTBFKM is when the wax museum feels the need to make a wax look alike of baby Shiloh.

Hmmmm is when I pay $41 a piece for bras. Hey, they're worth it!
YHGTBFKM is when they announce this morning that BP is closing some oil thingy in Alaska and our gas could go up over $4/gallon. Don't these assholes know how much I drive in a week? And now we have FOOTBALL to contend with. Bastards.

Hmmmm is Jimmer asking about gas
YHGTBFKM is Julie talking about intermittent releases in the Kohl's - and her hubby busting her out on it...HILARIOUS.

Hmmmm is me installing 8 disks of a recovery set for a friend's computer and having the install fail.
YHGTBFKM is talking to Comcrap and having them say that it must be a fault in the disks, even though the install is prompting me for a "supplemental disk" that I do not have. So they send me ANOTHER set of 8 disks, and the same.damn.thing.happens. So I have to call again and now they say they'll send me the supplemental disk. That I asked for in the first place. Bastards.

Hmmmm is almost getting blindsided by one of the grandma's pulling out of the retirement apartments back here by my building.
YHGTBFKM is almost getting into a 3 car pile up because this other granny couldn't decide if she was going to turn or go straight. So she just STOPPED. Bastards!

Hmmmm is me leaving my purse at home. Again.
YHGTBFKM is realizing my office keys are in there, too. Damnit!

What's your YHGTBFKM moment?

Dear Ann Landers...

Or Dear Abby...
Or Dear Ramblers....

Take your pick, either way, I have had a plea from one of our avid readers for a post about the high price of gas.

Not gasoline, mind you. GAS. As in bodily functions. As in the SBD, Panty Burps, Trouser Coughs, Anal Audio...you all get the picture. It can cost you a lot, if you're dating someone new. So from this blogger, who shall remain nameless...I bring you this email excerpt...

First and foremost, everyone knows that men have more gas than women. Check that, everyone knows that men do not treat their gas the same way women do. Quantity is not an issue here. You women have the ability to pass gas without a sole hearing it. I mean, the hearing test lady can’t even hear it with all of her equipment. But I digress. My question is, does a woman with whom you are in the beginning stages of a relationship (one month) expect us men not to let a single squeak out for “x” number of days since the inception of the relationship, or am I making more out of this than I should. To be clear, I’m not talking about the basketball court clearing, eye watering, dog running off kind of fart. I’m talking about your average fart that may have a slight stink but doesn’t last very long and usually has a bigger bark (if you will) than bite. I am not talking about farts that I would plant on my brothers’, sisters’, nephews’, nieces’, friends’ or even a few coworkers’ heads that could potentially cause blindness and loss of taste for a week. Furthermore, I’m not talking about beer farts or something that may sound wet. These little buddies are in a class all by themselves… (I guess I’m a connoisseur.)

So I'm asking you - the men and women of my blogosphere to weigh in on the dating/farting allowance period.

Auntie Em, Auntie Em, it's a twister, it's a twister!

What do you make of this?
Well, I can make a hat, or I can make a broach, or I can make a pterodactyl...

And yet another movie surfaces that should be on the must-see list. But I digress...

I seriously thought something baaaaaad was happening at 3:30 this morning. There I am, minding my own business, but doing something I shouldn't be doing. Sleeping in my contacts. (What were you thinking?) I was tired...it happens...father forgive me! But no! I was also sleeping on the wrong side of the bed. The Kev-head and I do this occasionally...change things up...we're craaaaazy! So anyway, at 3:30...BOOM! CRASH! BOOM! Breaking glass! Me screaming! And jumping on Kevin! And not in that good way he might actually like at 3:30 am. In a bad way that says "I'm about to piss myself!" And he's screaming what? WHAT? And I scream "You didn't hear that?! There's breaking glass over there! Did the window just shatter?!" And he says "I have earplugs in" And the wind is howling and the lightning is crashing, and the power is out - BRILLIANT - so we're racing around trying to figure out what glass is breaking and I'm wondering if a damn tornado is coming and we can't find any god &*#! freaking matches to light the candles!

Alas, the boom-crash knocked a picture of my boys off a shelf which came crashing down on the bedside table, shattering the glass. The windows are fine. We still didn't have power until almost 7am - yes, I look AWESOME today, thanks - but all is well. Except for that picture frame. Which is, of course, broken.

Julie got drenched on her way to work and is pissing and moaning about how long it takes denim to dry. Ummmmm, yeah, the chaffing is wonderful! Poor Julie! She was thinking about going to Fields and picking up some new pants...I fully support this. Tina! Get some new pants!

Doctor update...
"You're not dying, you just can't think of anything good to do"
The short story is that he told me I have inflammation. Seriously? Really doc? Inflammation. NO SHIT? So it's back to the sado-masochistic torture lair, oka, physical therapy...this time with traction. I have no idea what this means, but it can't be good. So you all should be THRILLED because this means many more moments of pain and hilarity for the blog...because it really is all.about.YOU. And another MRI - because really...can you have too much magnetic imaging? The more time I get to spend in those crisp hospital gowns the better, folks! And last but not least, a new anti-inflammatory...because I'm inflamed, people! What's even BETTER is the actual diagnosis on these orders...because you can't order shit without a diagnosis, right?

I have...wait for it...RADICULITIS. Yes, that's right...basically my doctor is now telling me I'm ridiculous, which again...already knew. FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.

What it actually means is: Inflammation of the intradural portion of a spinal nerve root prior to its entrance into the intervertebral foramen.

I hope that's clear for everyone. uhhhhhhhh.....yeah.

Gel's pizza was rockin' good and the Janet also picked up some garlic knotz from the Greek's which is just heaven in bread form with garlic butter. mmmmmmm, garlic butter.

More later, loveys...

I love it when ya call me Big Poppa...

It's the Harry's birthday today! Hurrah! Happy Birthday, Dad - not that he reads this blog...but at least I know I put it out there in the blogosphere. We're going over there for Gel's pizza after work. It's one of my favoritest pizzas ever. With a nice big salad and some breadsticks...I'll be looking forward to this all day. mmmmmmmm pizza...

So raise a glass, a cup of coffee, a breakfast shake or an egg mcmuffin in the general direction of Jackson Twp. this morning and wish my dad a happy birthday. Between my sister and I, we should have put him into massive coronary by now, but he's still kickin', still has his own hair and none of it's gray, despite the opinions of people back east who insist he's wearing a rug.

Doctor for me today - I'm underwhelmed. I would like to think I'm going to go there and he's going to look at all these films and say "Mrs. Crum...my heavens...you clearly have a distorted schmokken-flokken...we need to do x, y and z right away and you will never have shoulder pain again."

HA! Yeah right.

I'm already prepped for him to see nothing, know nothing and provide me no answers or solutions. I guess I just have to hope that whatever pharmaceutical rep brought him donuts this morning also brought some samples of some miracle drug. Wouldn't that be nice?

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

No, that's not a headline about the Jimmer's love-life...it's the name of a movie, sillies. Haven't heard of it? Yeah, neither had I. Bumptious blogged about it awhile back, and then the lovely Laura recommended it, so I decided I should give it a try. I LOVED this film! Val Kilmer and Robert Downey, Jr. and some girl who I called a poor man's Ellen Pompeo, but Kev-head insists this girl was MUCH better looking. I didn't see it. I think this is the first film I've really loved RDjr in since "Chances Are" and a quick lookup on imdb tells me that was from '89, kids. And he sings the song as the credits roll, which I also loved but the Kev-head replied "anyone can sing with the right amount of production" and proceeded to try and serenade me. But he had no producer and the raw format was not pretty. I love my man, but singing is not one of his attributes. It's one of the reasons I dated him in the first place. I think we're all aware of my sordid past with musicians - ahem...not pretty. Sooooo, I married a man who couldn't carry a tune if I put a handle on it and away we go.

I'm adding this film to my "must see" list...it was that good. I want to buy it and watch it over and over again to pick up the one-liners...there were quite a few. Even Kev-head belly laughed a couple of times.

So what else is on my must see list? In no particular order...
1. Ferris
2. The Negotiator
3. The Usual Suspects
4. Reservoir Dogs
5. Clerks (my aunt and uncle watched this on my recommendation and hated it, but oh well, I still LOVE it)
5a. Change number 5 to all Kevin Smith films including Chasing Amy, Mall Rats, etc. The man is a genius.
6. The Sting (I LOVE Robert Redford, what can I say?)
7. Stealing Home
8. Practical Magic
9. Blazing Saddles
10. The Shining
11. Fight Club
12. Animal House
13. Stripes
14. Caddyshack
15. The Commitments
16. The Full Monty
17. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
18. Almost Famous
19. 40 year old Virgin
20. The Shawshank Redemption

I am quite certain there are more. What are your "must-sees"? Movies that when people say they haven't seen it you actually do a double-take.

What in the *&^$@! am I doing wrong???

So this weekend was a series of ups and downs.

First - Owen's team won their game on Friday night - it was beautiful. Couldn't believe it. They looked awesome doing it which was the best part. Great fielding, great pitching (Owen didn't pitch, he played first). We were all so proud.

But then Saturday game. Any of you sit out in the heat at noon watching a baseball game? No? I didn't think so...ya wanna know why? Because it's ASININE, that's why. They didn't lose horribly - it was 8-2. Owen pitched the last half, but by that time he was baked. And not in that good, college "dude you are soooooo baaaaaaked" kind of way. It was that "dude you are playing baseball in polyester pants and dark blue t-shirt in 110 degrees" kind of way that makes your brain fry. Literally.

We had a two hour break between games, Owen cooled off, seemed much better and off to game two. He sat in the shade, kept drinking fluids...really took it easy pre-game. But then, it all went badly. Pitched 9 runs in the 1st inning...ouch...and hit a single in the top of the 2nd. When he came off the field he was bawling and holding his head. We cooled him down but it wasn't enough. He couldn't go back into the heat without his head pounding. When the nausea set in we were off to the ER.

We started with him tossing his cookies in the reception area. Nice.
We ended with he and his friend Luke cutting it up in the ER. Between Luke and Owen and Kevin, we were cracking up. Yes, we're following up with our normal doc. And his allergist. Yes I'm a whack job for getting out my camera in the emergency room. Hey, it was all a part of the tournament experience.I did everything I was supposed to do. I subjected Shay to the same liquid regimen as Owen since he was staying with us. He ran off the field in the middle of the first game because he had to pee so bad. Didn't even stop at the dugout first...just ran straight to the bathroom. Whoops. Coach Kevin yelled at him until he realized I was the one that made him drink so much. Whoops again.

So now I have to find out if his allergy meds make him more susceptible to heat. Or if it's just him. And what I can do to make sure I don't have to worry about this again...because he kind of freaked me out when he said "my brain feels like it's not connected and rattling in my head."

Ummm, yeah, we're going to the ER.

*Blogger isn't letting me upload my photos right now. Keep checking back...they'll be here...

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head...

No baseball last night in the downpour. Owen was well-rested and pumped up, too. So we have to play tonight instead. And this was my night OFF, people!

And if you think I'm crabby now, just wait until tomorrow after I sit there with frizzy hair, swoobs and a sunburn at high noon with 100% humidity on a 95 degree day. And we have a DOUBLEHEADER. Seriously. I love my kids but this is ridiculous. Maybe I'll have to put some sort of adult cocktail in a squeezy bottle like back in my college days.

Happy Friday!

Owen is a rockstar...

He was AWESOME last night. Struck out 10 batters...gave up 2 or 3 hits, walked a couple...finally ended up hitting a batter in the 4th inning. His arm had had enough. Comes off the field after the game POUTING...wanna know why? Because he struck out...twice. OMG - you're kidding me, right? You're going to be upset with your game because you didn't hit, even though going into the fourth inning there was no score and you had struck out 9 people??? I was a mess for those 4 innings. We lost to Lowell 4-0. The boys did awesome for their first game ever trying to hit off of a pitcher, their first game ever together as a team, their first game under the lights (game ended around 10pm)...We had the bases loaded at one point in the 5th, but we couldn't make it happen. I'm totally jacked to see what they do today.

Today he's with the Janet who is pumping him with fluids and taking him to the movies. Good ole' grandma.

Alex's ear is feeling better but his jaw still hurts. Weird, eh? I guess swimmer's ear can affect your lymph nodes, so that's probably what's happening. But he says he feels better which is good.

I have a follow-up appt with my ortho! Hurrah! And get this...THEY called ME! Mrs. Johnson or whatever-her-name-is called me to schedule my appt. But now that makes me worry...does she know something I don't? Did some radiologist see something evil on my MRI and now they NEED to see me? Did my bloodwork come back bad? Yeah, you're right, it's nothing...she just finally returned my 52 calls. So I go next Wednesday equipped with x-rays and MRI films (which are totally bad ass to look at, btw). With my medical degree from Google University I have already diagnosed myself, of course, as having severe decubitus degenerative degrading ecchymosis ectopic dystrophy.

Okay, so I know what all of that means...and that none of it really makes any sense. I really just looked up some fancy words in the medical dictionary and smushed them all together. I didn't get past the E's because it was exhausting. I think that makes me even MORE like a real doctor! They do that shit all the time!
"Ummm, yes, Mrs. Smith, your x-ray is showing a shmokken-flokken in the cortex of your such-and-such"
"Oh my gosh! doctor, is it serious???"
"Not if you fill this prescription of meds from the pharmaceutical company whose rep just dropped off a dozen donuts and four tickets to a skybox for the Sox home opener - you'll be FINE"

Friggin' seriously.

Gametime tonight 6pm.

The sisters and my shoulder seem fine in my fabulous new bra purchase, so maybe it was just coincidence? Who knows. We'll see how the rest of the day goes.

Giving it the old college try...

Unable to grasp the concept that I may have just spent $85 on two bras that are essentially torture devices, I'm trying again. Today I am wearing one of the new, fabulous potentially pain causing bras. Because, hey - I'm all about the research, man. Let's test the theory and see what happens tomorrow. I'm doing it all for you guys. Well, that and to further my studies into my Google medical degree. Because I have one you know. I can diagnose ANYONE in three clicks. I'm brilliant. BRILLIANT I say. Just look at the certificate on my wall. That's it...I'm getting a stethoscope and a lab coat so people will take me more seriouser.

In other news that doesn't involve my boobs - is anyone watching Rockstar?? Seriously, it's a trainwreck. I think Tommy Lee hired a writer for his one-liner comments...He's saying things like "You're raising the bar, and I'm pulling up a barstool"...that is craptastic right there, I don't care who ya'are.

Owen is playing on the Roselawn all-star team for a tournament in Cedar Lake. And get this. The boy is PITCHING, yo! I'm ready to go into cardiac arrest over this. There's so much pressure! To be the pitcher! When it's your first year! And you can tell how frantic I am by the number of exclamation points I'm using! I'm on FIRE over here with worry! One of the other moms promised to bring me a paper bag to breathe into. I wish I had a working video camera. I think I do. But I don't want to add to the pressure!

Jen suggested I slam a shot before the game. Yeah, um, THERE'S good advice. Because that's a pretty picture...me, screaming and cheering and reeking of tequila at the little league all-star tournament. YEAH baby! Exxcshuse me, Mr. ooooompire...i think that waszh a shtrike. Toss in a muscle relaxer and I'm SET! Game time tonight - 8pm. Tomorrow 6pm. Owen can pitch a max of 4 innings each game. That's a lot of balls, loveys!

Alex is down for the count in Anderson with swimmer's ear. Seriously down. Like sleeping 12 hours and taking tylenol with codeine to manage the pain. That's the same water that leveled our dear sweet Julia Goolia for an entire day of fabulous beach vacay. Gotta love Lake Michigan. And to think, we all just ate perch Kevin pulled out of that very lake just a week before. Maybe that's why I've been stricken with a lower GI thing. Lake Michigan is slowly killing us all. Damn e coli.

Think good thoughts for my boys - they could both use it.

Let's get down to boobness...

Seriously, I don't mean to keep harping on this, but the sisters are now officially a problem.

So I did go to the store and buy new bras. 34DD it is. Fine. I'm slowly coming to terms with it. It's worse than turning 30. THAT I knew was coming. It was inevitable. This? This is just ridiculous. I'm not sure what's going on with my hormones, but apparently I'm pumping enough estrogen to turn the whole middle east crisis into one big cry fest. Ya hear that, Condie? You don't need international troops, just let me ooze my hormones over there for awhile, everything will be just fine...just keep the wine and cheese flowing, me and the sisters will get that all worked out.

Here's the problem. Remember when I was seeing the pinko-fascist physical therapists who tortured me like a Hillary Rodham Clinton fundraiser speech? ("It's the American Dream, stupid." Is she SERIOUS? Shut up Hillary, you embarrass my party) Well, these new bras of mine? Same effect. Pain. Sure everything was sitting pretty and the sisters felt great about themselves (and looked good, too), but the end result was me in tears on my fabulous beach vacay unable to consume exorbitant amounts of alcohol and crying for my muscle relaxers (read "mommy's little helper.") It was bad. I was a mess. I couldn't figure out what I had done to cause myself so much pain all of a sudden. I was good - I didn't lift too much when we packed/unpacked. I didn't drive to Michigan. I wasn't on my computer. I wasn't doing anything I wasn't supposed to. And BAM! No feeling in my fingers on my left side. Just burning achy inflammation. It was the bras. Two days of wearing them and I was a disaster. Julie performed some drunken voodoo stuff later in the evening when I wasn't so cinched up. Yeah, that's right. Me on the floor and Julie twisting and pulling and it was hilarious because I was laying on a rug on a hardwood floor and the rug kept moving and we kept laughing...She was amazed and concerned at my inflammation. I share this concern. I'm still trying to get in with my ortho which more and more I realize will probably be a big gigantic waste of my time.

So how do we feel about acupuncture, kids? Because I think that's where I'm going next. Michelle suggested a sports medicine doctor. Anyone know one? No, no one has mentioned a reduction in the sisters. No one has mentioned the amount of time I drive or spend in front of a computer. No one has mentioned anything that could potentially be an irritant for me to avoid (besides my husband...as the irritant that is, and HE'S the only one mentioning THAT). So essentially lifting the sisters put some sort of pressure on my shoulder that wasn't good. What does THAT mean?

"Sometimes it's hard to be...a woman..."

Home is where the beach isn't...

I hate to admit it...but it's true. Fabulous beach vacation is over. I could cry...seriously, I think I might. It was ab fab. Better than ab fab. The whole communal living thing really works for me. Cooking with friends, chatting on the porch, never drinking alone...ooh, wait, was that out loud?

The champion of our vacation? The Janet. Yes, it's true...Julie and Michelle and I are there for DAYS busting hump, trading off days cooking dinners, making sandwiches and satisfying everyone's culinary needs. Except for one.small.detail. DESSERT! You should have seen the looks on our faces when Owen pops his head up after dinner on night number one and says "That was great, what's for dessert?" ummm...cricket....cricket....cookies? Fruit snacks? yogurt bars? animal crackers? He looked at me like I had snakes coming out of my head. Well, the Janet wanted to contribute, so she brought pies on Saturday. And not just any pies. Homemade fresh picked cherries from National Cherry Festival pie and a pumpkin pie. And the Janet makes the best crust in the known universe. We demolished the pies after our afternoon at the beach right BEFORE dinner. That's how bad it was. Everyone was jonesing so bad for dessert that once they saw it, they couldn't wait until after a meal. We were like vultures over roadkill. Two pies gone in a matter of minutes. I guess that's something to make note of for next year. Whoops.

A good time was had by all. Except for, apparently, the Jimmer, who is pouty because no one picked up on his boob conversation while I gone.

Projects every night, lots of mementos...I hope Michelle and Julie got better pictures than I did. While I was there I kept thinking I was getting great pictures, but now, I don't feel like I did. Oh well...upload those photos girls!

80% of women are wearing the wrong bra...

80. percent. That's a big number sweeties. And I have the sneaking suspicion that I'm part of this statistic. While doing laundry last night in preparation for fantastic beach holiday, I was watching the 11:00 Oprah. This may have been a repeat, or maybe she was just having another one of these types of shows, because I know she's done this before. The British 'what-not-to-wear' ladies wander around malls generally insulting women they don't know and whisk them away to remake them. How does one GET a job like this? I can make fun of people's boobs, large hips, flabby asses and general lack of style. Hell, that's one lap around the mall for me! Not that I go to the mall. I don't. Shut up.

Anyway, this one woman was wearing a 36C and busting over the top of it, which I am currently doing in my 36D. I've been complaining about my 4 boobs for awhile now. The sisters are just plain out of control. My hormones are going nuts...that and I'm gaining weight, which I always seem to do in my chest, conveniently enough for my husband, but not so convenient for ME. Actually, he's more of an ass man than a boob man, but that's beside the point. My ass is also succumbing to gravity, but the only remedy for that is exercise and well...that just doesn't appeal to me right now. Check back with me next week after I've spent several days on the beach looking at younger girls with all their perky shit. My ass will be in tae-bo, pilates and yoga for hours trying to fix this flab. But for now I'm dreaming about all of the yummy food and wine I'm going to be consuming on this vacay. Where the hell was I? What the shit was I talking about? Geez...rambling girl today...

Oh yeah, my boobs...yeah, they're big. Anyway, this girl was wearing a 36 C - after being fitted by some chick who knows WAY too much about bras and boobs and feels people up for a living put her in...get this... a 34 G. Ahem. WHAT? G. Great. This does not bode well for me. Now I'm deathly afraid of finding out what I am supposed to be wearing. I think I should come down a back size, to a 34, but if you do that, you're automatically supposed to go UP a CUP size. So that automatically puts me in 34DD territory. Lovely. So now I'm contemplating going after work and getting a new bra in my new size, just to see what happens. The whole reason this is even remotely important to me right now is because I have to do something even MORE horrible than find someone to fit me for a stupid bra.

I have to buy a new bathing suit. Tonight. For amazing beach vacay. And I'm tortured. And I have to go BY MYSELF - which we all know is a huge no-no of shopping. It's like the exact opposite of going to the grocery store hungry. When you do that you buy too much food. When you go shopping by yourself you either buy a) nothing b) something for your kids/husband/pets c) something from the sale rack that you justify because it was 'so cheap' but you'll never wear d) shit that looks bad on you that you'll never wear. Huh? You don't do that? It's just me? Really? Oh...huh.

So I'll let you know tomorrow how it goes. Think good thoughts for me and the sisters. We need all the help we can get.

Hotter than Hades...

I like how in the west, it just says "baking" - and this is accuweather talking!!!

Holy crap was it HOT this weekend...I mean Africa hot...sweating in your ass crack, swoobs HOT! And I usually don't sweat, ask Julie, she thinks I'm a freak of nature.

Great weekend! Great visits with my girls...

Friday night found me at a jewelry party with my FORMER fellow employees - Tigger and the Pea - it was so great to see them and chat and have cocktails. Oh, and there was jewelry. And I'm having a party in August. And you all have to come. So there.

Saturday night was birthday dinner with my girls - July is for Julie and Jennifer. Dinner on the porch at Popalano's. Which didn't seem like a completely horrible idea at the time, despite the heat. Mostly we were fine, but Julie ordered friggin' red wine and THEN complains about how she's sweating to death. Ummm, YEAH...red's gonna do that to ya sistah! Kathy, believe it or not had never been to Chesterton before. Seriously? Seriously! So we left the restaurant and hoofed it down to see Julie's work of art in Thomas Centennial Park.



To continue Kathy's tour of Chesterton...we went to Flannery's. And surprisingly enough Jimmer wasn't there. HA! He was on a date...go Jimmer!

And there we are, in all our sweaty hot as hades glory...
We retired to Julie's house to chat it up...until 12:30 am...GOOD TIMES!

Love my girls...Jen's b-day is at the end of the month, so think good thoughts for my girl.

I leave you with this:
Tina, you fat lard, come eat your dinner...

People just may surprise you...

I got an apology today. AN APOLOGY. From a woman here in the office who didn't talk to me for a YEAR awhile back because she didn't like something I did, or the way I responded to her request for assistance. Didn't speak to me, didn't look at me...nothing. After awhile, we got back into our groove and things have been fine. Until yesterday.

You see...I'm still not used to my new position. You know, being the head of my department. Of one. Of myself. My department is very demanding. They don't have time for me to sit here and blog, but yet, here I am, day after day...true to my commitment to you guys. I hope you appreciate this as my boss breathes down my neck asking me if the vectors have been aligned and the sockets sealed and if the unidirectional connections are flowing in the connection direction. Very serious stuff here...and my boss, well she is a bitch. And today she has a headache, so I'm sure I'm going to get an earful later for wasting this precious 5 minutes.

Enough of that insanity...I'm not used to being in charge of stuff. So I have to do these server updates, right? Because the jackasses out there in the internet universe splooge into sweatsocks every night just dreaming of more ways to stick it to Bill Gates by screwing with windows. I'm sure Bill is losing sleep over it you pansy ass paste eating anti-social hacker parasites. Anyway, I leave on my brilliant beach vacation next week, so I have to get these updates done. I suck it up and realize I have to come in early this morning and update the servers. Because windows updates don't always go well. There's always the potential that you're going to actually kill your system by doing these updates, so I need these updates in place for a few days before I leave.

So I talk to two of the supervisors about their morning routine, check with my senior programmer...everything seems kosher...until I send the email to the rest of the supervisors and hit the door. Whoops. Apparently one of the supervisors, the one who didn't talk to me for a year, had her peeps coming in early this morning because of something big happening next week. Whoops. And she freaked. So I get a call from calm supervisor on my cell not to do the updates. Fine. Whatever. I call freaking-out supervisor and tell her I'll come back at night to do them, last night, while Alex was in guitar and drum lessons. Now this, my friends is a sacrifice. Alex music lesson time = Rebecca wine/martini time...so I had to give THAT up last night and come here. It's HARD to be the boss of me, I tell ya, because I am a slave-driver!

Now when I called FOS to tell her that I was rescheduling, she wasn't exactly nice to me, but she wasn't exactly rude either, what she was was short. I let it go.

But this morning...she apologized. That doesn't happen around here. Really, it doesn't. I told her I didn't think she was rude to me last night on the phone, but if she's apologizing for stuff she said about me behind my back while I wasn't here, then I accept. She laughed, all is well. But boy...I shouldn't have done that. I have to make it a habit to check with everyone before I decide to do this stuff, not just the couple I THINK are affected. Because I'm pretty sure we've all learned from previous stories in this blog, thinking is not exactly my strong suit.

So my boss and I decided that I should run everything past her before I make decisions. And send emails to all supervisors before making decisions. We're smaller now...must keep the peace.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIE!!!!!!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JULIE
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

Raise your glasses, coffee mugs, bottles of water ... whatever ya got...raise them towards the city of Chicago this morning and wish my brown-eyed girl Julie a Happy 35th Birthday! She's a part of the next checkbox section, ladies and gentlemen...

So here's a good one for ya...
Remember when my husband hollered at me...well, maybe not hollered...admonished me for my foul mouth on my blog? Well he and his cronies were sitting at some after work bar and got kicked out because they were overusing the F-bomb! hahahahahahaha Suck it Kev-head - I told you you have a worse mouth than I do. And I told him I would blog about this, but I'm sure he won't read it. He gave up on me. Whatever.

More about camp...
I have one thing that really creeps me out. Teeth. Not just any teeth. Loose teeth. Like the kind that kids wiggle and wiggle and wiggle and push in and out and back and forth and ewwwwwwwwwww. I.cannot.handle.it. Both of my kids were told they couldn't wiggle in front of me. I guess that's good advice for life, eh? Anyway...I cannot handle loose teeth. I don't want to see them sticking out at some abnormal angle, I don't want to see how far to the right, left, front or back you can push them. That is daddy business. Now once it's out? I'm all over the cleaning of the tooth and the salt rinse and making sure you're okay. But the wiggling...take it outside.

So this boy, Nick, had a loose tooth. Well once he discovered that this was my weakness, he took every opportunity he could to wiggle that thing in front of me. And that, folks, is what camp is all about. Ew.

What ooks you out?
Mine are loose teeth and insects with too many legs. Because they're fast...

What are YOU watching?

So we don't really watch much television in the summertime - because it's nice out, and we're busy. BUT - the summer TV schedule has gotten MUCH more interesting and now I find myself abusing my DVR even moreso than before! What is going on???

Completely addicted to "America's Got Talent" - but they're KILLING me with a 2 hour ep tonight. Who has time for this? Of course if it's raining, like it was last night...then I can catch up on all my backlog of DVR'd items. Last night I caught up on "The Closer" - with Kyra Sedgewick...have you seen this? LOVE her...you'll never say 'thenk yew' the same way again. BRILLIANT. And now USA network has resurrected my beloved Dule Hill of West Wing fame on a show called "Psych" that just started last Friday. It's good, too. Throw in "Rockstar" and "So you think you can dance" and my little DVR is humming every night of the week. Now the question is, when the hell am I going to catch up on all this??

My body still thinks I'm at camp. I never eat breakfast...unless I'm at camp...and then BRING IT! Because I'm always starving at camp. Must be all that crazy physical activity...because heaven knows I'm a sloth during the average workweek camped out at my desk. Not exactly burning off the ole calories or boosting my metabolism, I can tell you that. But right now, at 10:10 am, I am eating my lunch. Because I'm starving. STARVING I say. Diet coke? check. Salad with ranch dressing? check. Crackers? check.

Now what am I going to eat in an hour or so when my body thinks it's lunchtime?

Cub Scouts RAWK!!!

What a BLAST cub scout camp was! I love camp! I love it like I would marry it!

Tie-dying shirts and camp songs and canoeing and leather crafts (not like that you pervs!) and swimming and archery and BB guns...skit nights and more songs and kids running around everywhere shooting the staff and parents with water guns. BRILLIANT!

So this very awkward thing happened, and I want to talk to you about it. I told Kathy yesterday, and she thinks I might be overreacting a little bit, and I'll tell you about that afterwards. But I'm offended, and a little upset, so I'm paying my 5 cents to Lucy (you guys) and getting my dose of psychiatry for the day.

People say not nice things to me all of the time. Like rude things. Like things they wouldn't say to anyone else because it would be inappropriate. I see it here all the time. I'm digging for an example but not coming up with anything. But trust me, the shit people say to me, most people would find offensive. Most of it I brush off. And maybe that's the problem. Kathy is always amazed at my restraint when someone says something pretty awful, and I just let it go. They would NEVER say anything like that to Kathy, but to me, it's game on. Whatever, I must put out some vibe that let's people think I'm unoffendable, like that justifies it.

ANYWAY, I digress.

So at camp, I'm in my element. I love the staff, they love me. Kevin doesn't come to camp because he says he'll "cramp my style" - when really we all know it's because people are sleeping in tents and they snore...and well, Kevin could wake up from the sound of the shuttle in space firing it's engines, so sleeping in a camp full of snoring tent-sleeping people just really doesn't work for him.

George, the park ranger and I, go back a few years to my camping days with Alex. It's comfortable there, and George and I joke around a lot, as I do with most of the staff and the kids and well, generally everyone. As you can all imagine, I have friends before other people have their tents up. I quickly volunteered to emcee the scouters campfire on Saturday night, and that had me off and running collecting names of people and their skits, planning adult skits, making signs. We were doing our own version of "America's Got Talent" called "Scouts Got Talent" - I had judges, including one cubmaster who pretended to be Brandy and got a TON of laughs.

There's a new staffer this year, a guy named Pat running the BB Gun range. He's old school military and George introduced me to him on Friday night at dinner. George and I were cutting up and Pat announced "I like this girl George, she gives you a run for your money." Great, that sounds nice, right? Doesn't that sound nice?

The next day, Saturday, my boys are on the BB Gun range and doing really well. I was following them around taking pictures and talking with some parents who were shooting. Pat sidles up next to us and says to the dads I was talking to "Does she participate in anything or just watch?" I'm first offended by this, but he says it with a laugh, so I dismiss it. Rob immediately defends me "No, she just runs everything" - thanks Rob - I say "I'm too busy taking pictures, this is more about the boys. I did participate in swimming and canoeing though!" And Pat says "Now she's probably going to get mad at me for saying this, but she participates in swimming so she can show off that she's a girl."

WHAT?!

You are fucking kidding me, right? You did NOT just say that to me. How degrading can you get? I have been a devoted scouter for 6 years, the only mom from my fucking pack that will actually go to camp and take as many boys as I can with me so they can understand what scouting is all about, and you are going to reduce me to some chick who wants to show off her figure (WHAT figure?) in a bathing suit?? I have shot more arrows, more BB's, worked on leather projects, nature projects, hiked with the best of them. I was livid. Seething. It's a wonder I didn't slap him. How DARE he?

I calmly replied "And here I thought I got in the pool because it's 90 degrees out here and we'd just finished our nature hike" and I walked away.

THIS, this is what I'm talking about. The shit people will say to me and laugh it off like it's no big deal. But then my brain starts working overtime. Is this what other people think? Other moms were in the pool, too, not just me. My bathing suit is completely appropriate! It comes up to my neck, and it's fully lined and it has padding. I water tested it to make sure it wasn't see-through in the least. The legs aren't cut high, the front isn't cut low. It's seriously the most unattractive, unflattering bathing suit I could have purchased. It's one step shy of being a full wet suit. I bought this damn thing specifically so people WOULDN'T and COULDN'T say this very thing about me!! Damn you, Pat!!!

Kathy says that Pat wasn't saying it to offend me, he was saying it to purge it out of his system. That apparently he must have liked the way I looked or something, so if he said something awful then I wouldn't go near him anymore. Or something like that, it made sense when she said it yesterday.

I still think he's a chauvinist ASS.

All's well that ends well...

How is everyone? Have a good 4th of July weekend? Did you have to work on Monday? I did, and it was lame. Seriously. What is wrong with people? What was so friggin' pressing that we had to come in? Lemme tell ya, nothing. Not a damn thing. I wish employers would realize that the way to make your employees happy is to give them a little something every now and again. Like Julie's company, extra days here and there, outings...these actually can and do make a difference in your workplace. What do I know? Kathy typically says screw all of that and give it to me in my paycheck. But she's antisocial...except with me...so I don't know what kind of gauge she is. And I'm uber-social...so what kind of gauge am I??

I was overserved on Monday night, I do know that. And two hours is too long to spend in a hot tub. And how is it humanly possible that I was not heaving yesterday? Is it because I just drank so long? I can't remember the last time I got home at 5am. Good times! Love my girls!

So I was funny in the hot tub. Amy was hollering at Ryan, her daughter, for trying to poison her. Out of context I guess that sounds sorta bad...but really not so much. I am a wine snob. Not in the sense that I only buy expensive bottles. Snobby in the sense that those sweet sissy girl wines are completely off my radar. They just are. They're not enjoyable. They're horrid. And trust me, you paid way too much for something that crappy. Amy was drinking one of these wines from the Oliver winery...a southern Indiana winery. ummmm. yeah. I know there's more than corn in Indiana, but I'm not sure they should be making wine. It's not good. Anderson really isn't good either. I just don't think Indiana has the right soil for this, kids. Amy had handed Ryan her glass of wine to hold. Ryan was floating the glass in the hot tub and trying not to let it tip. But she kept threatening to let the hot tub water get in the glass. So Amy shrieked something about her poisoning her mother with the bromine. (is that even possible?) Anyway, I told Ryan not to worry about it, because Amy was already poisoning herself drinking that shit Oliver wine. HA! See how funny I am? No? Okay.

Julie said I'm hard core because if I drink something I don't like I pour it out. But really, that's what wine people do. That's why they have buckets at tastings. So you can dump it if you don't like it. And in my defense, when I dumped a glass at her house, it was from an old bottle of valpolicella that she had in her frig that she prefaced with "yeah, I didn't like this when I opened it, and it's been in the frig a couple of days, I'm probably going to toss it." All I did was confirm, that yes, goat piss might be more enticing and dumped my glass.

Anyway - enough about wine. (is there really such a thing?) Cub Scout Camp the rest of the week! Hurrah! My favorite time of year!! Water guns and swimming and smores and skits and hobo meals and water guns and archery and YAY!! So I'll be out of commish for awhile...talk amongst yourselves.