Sometimes It's Hard To Be A Woman

So one of the girls I work with stopped by to talk to me and took one look at my hands and said, "Oh wow...I don't think I've ever seen your nails like that."

Like what?  Not manicured?  Yeah, I suppose you have not, heifer.  Thanks for noticing.

Did I mention that the Rottenator and I are saving up to buy a second car so we've cut out the "extras"?

And extras mean nails and haircuts and perfume and food other than Hamburger Helper and Beans and Rice...

But it's for a good cause.  And I'm on board...kinda...though I do miss my nails.

I don't miss the process, however.  I always enjoyed the look of my nails after a manicure, but I never enjoy the sitting and making conversation with complete strangers.  Just do my nails, okay?  No time for chit chat, not necessary.

Different from a pedicure. I do love a spa pedicure, I have to say.  I'm all about massages and pedicures and that sort of pampering.

But nails and haircuts; those I see almost as doctor's appointments: necessary, but not exactly enjoyable.

I do miss my perfume, though.  I've recently discovered Jo Malone, who is a "perfumer" I guess, I don't know the technical term for it, from London, and every scent she has is deliciously yummy!  I ordered a samplers pack of her fragrances from Ebay before the lockdown on the cash, and fell in love.

She makes me feel girly.  I'm not the girliest of girls but I do like to feel pretty on occasion. I find it's more and more difficult the deeper into my 40s I get.

It's weird: a part of me, especially when I was really heavy, wanted to be someone that just disappeared into the crowd and was barely noticed, but that's an odd feeling, too.  Because now I am just a middle-aged generic woman who is easily forgotten, never gets a second look, and is just kind of...there.

First world problems, right?  That being said, I do miss the days of being able to dye my hair purple, wear Doc Martens and Hello Kitty, and have my tongue pierced.

Those were the days...but I wasn't any happier then.  It's funny how the older we get, the more we romanticize our past instead of remembering how it really was.

All being said, life is okay right now.  And if skipping a few nail appointments and hair cuts means that I can see Harry Potter and we can get another car, I'll make the sacrifice.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

Chicken Soup is Good For the Soul

So, I would post a picture of this latest and greatest recipe, but my cell phone never does my food justice, so I won't.  Let us just say I made a chicken soup in the crockpot tonight that was awesome.  And, better yet, delish!

To start: everything is chopped up into bite-sized pieces, and this meal is very economical if your grocery store is having a sale on chicken breasts, and you feel up to deboning and skinning the breasts yourself...which I was:

4 lb. chicken breasts
1 can Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup with Garlic
1 can Campbell's Cream of Chicken with Herbs
6 Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled, chopped
6 carrots, peeled, chopped
6 celery ribs, chopped
1 large onion, chopped
1/2 c. chicken broth

Lawry's seasoning salt, pepper, garlic powder, Italian seasoning mix, season to taste.

Throw everything into a crockpot and 6 hours later...ta dah!  Yummy chicken soup.  I served it with some of those Pillsbury frozen biscuits and it was a perfect effortless meal for a cold day.

Chicken soup: it's good for what ails you.

I've been using my crockpot more than usual because my oven is on the fritz..  I'm totally pissed about it because it's an older oven, and it seems the temperature is slightly off but I can't figure out if it's running too high or too low.  My biscuits get burned, and my casseroles aren't cooked through so bottom line: I look like I don't know how to cook, which is a complete outrage. We're currently renting our house, so technically, it is our landlord's responsibility for having something like this fixed, but short of it breaking, or me taking a sledgehammer to it,  I don't see the situation being remedied anytime soon, so I'll make do, I suppose.

You see, I am a really good cook.  I mean, it's one of the few things I excel at, and enjoy.  I find it relaxing and rewarding to lose myself in a recipe and forget about all life's other annoyances while I focus on combining ingredients in such a way that the end result is something that will bring enjoyment and pleasure to others.

I think I was an Italian grandmother in a former life.

It's one of the few things in my life that shouldn't feel like such a challenge.  Work is challenging enough.

Haven I mentioned that I cannot wait until Feb. 1 which is the end of tax filing season?

Bottom line: what does this have to do with me going to Orlando to see The Wizarding World of Harry Potter?  Not a damn thing.

I'm currently watching season 2 of American Horror Story (I highly recommend!) so:

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

My, but we are a persnickety bunch

I'll be first to admit it: my family has issues. 

For a long time I thought it was me, I was the black sheep of the family, the problem child.  But no, oh good God no, I finally realized that every one of my characteristics and my troublesome nature are derived from somewhere in this branched and crooked family tree.

Number one would be my food issues.  I'm sure I've mentioned my relationship with food before.  As in, it's mine, all mine, not yours, there is no edible scrap of food anywhere on this planet that does not belong to me.  I don't care if you bought it, you cooked it, you cared for it and cleaned it, it's mine.  Even if I don't want it.  I may develop a taste for it someday and therefore, you cannot have any, because it may never be replaced, and then I will starve to death.

In like...50 years, because I'm pretty sure I've stored up enough fat that my body can subsist on its own for that long by devouring itself.

But hey guess what, I'm not the only one who has this til death do us part relationship with food.  So does my sister.

We discussed it ad nauseum this weekend at her house during my niece's birthday party:

That, btw, is the one and only picture I managed to get of this child because much like her Aunt, she doesn't like her picture taken because she's afraid it may steal her soul.  That, and she doesn't appear on film.  This was a miracle Hail Mary shot.

So, where as all of the food on the planet belongs to me, my sister's thing is that she's desperately afraid that the planet's food supply is going to run out and it's never going to be replaced so she will never be able to eat again and starve to death.  This is actually a realistic fear because being that the food is mine and I seem to be eating everything in sight, a world-wide famine is highly probable.

It's always amazed me that some people view food as merely the fuel by which we need in order to survive.  It doesn't matter if it tastes good, they have no particular favorites, they just eat what they need to and move on.  Even crazier are those people who forget to eat.  How can you "forget" to eat?  Like, didn't your stomach growling, or the fact that you're feeling weak or fainty clue you in to the fact that you may have missed a step.  Like, sleeping, peeing, pooping, blinking, or, breathing?  It makes no damn sense.

I've always had food issues.  I don't know if this was a turning point for me or just another phase in my food obsession, but I distinctly remember connecting food with my father.  We would have long, drawn out family meals that lasted for hours, long enough that you'd finished eating one meal and were hungry again for another one.  It was where I developed my love of food, connecting it with family, and good conversation, and togetherness.  That's also where I learned to eat slowly, so slowly that when I watch the Rottenator devour an entire chicken in 0.02 seconds, I am equally fascinated and horrified.  Our meals are nothing like that.  He's seriously done in, 10 minutes, tops, and I am struggling to keep up with him which usually ends up with me puking in a bathroom because I've eaten too much too fast and I'm totally stressed that my stomach is in a knot knowing that meal time is almost over and I may never get to eat again.

I finally understand my sister.

Going back to my father, I also remember when he got sick with cancer.  The extent of his illness was hidden from me for a long time, I was maybe 12, so I didn't understand how serious it was.  He was dying of cancer, but I remember my grandparents (my mom's parents) buying him Ensure because he was getting soooo skinny and losing so much weight he was getting gaunt and weak and they were trying anything to get him to keep his strength up.  And I remember thinking to myself, "if only he would eat, if only he gained weight, then he wouldn't be so sick and he'd get better".

Food saves all.  So maybe that's why I'm fat.  Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with my love of ice cream and cheese at all.  I'm just sayin'.

Another issue I have is OCD.  And it's getting worse the older I get.  This I get from my maternal grandmother.  Yes, the older I get, I am not, in fact, turning into my mother.  I'm turning into my grandmother, thereby completely bypassing middle age and hurdling straight down the tunnel of death towards the light with breakneck speed.

I remember my grandmother driving me bat fucking shit crazy when she got older because when she got something on her mind, it had to be taken care of now, not later, now.  Like, stop what you're doing right this very second and handle this thing now.  I don't care if you're in mid-stream, or driving, or solving the budget crisis, if you don't change this light bulb right now, the world is going to end, Rottenator.  I mean, Buster (my grandfather).

Because I'm nothing like that at all.  And neither is my mother who recently called me while I was getting ready for work in a panic because she couldn't figure out her direct TV remote and Judge Judy was coming on...in six hours.

I'm just sayin'.  These issues run deep.  And the good news is, I don't have to beat myself up for my bad habits anymore.  It's hereditary.

And what exactly does this have to do with my trip to Orlando to Universal Studios in September to see Harry Potter?  Not a damn thing, so it's not worth mentioning.

That's pretty much how I'm going to see every conversation for the next 8 months: "And what exactly does this have to do with my trip to see The Wizarding World of Harry Potter?  Nothing? Then why are we still discussing it".

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Fuckin' Hormones, Man

Seriously, is it almost 11pm?  It feels like I just got home from work.  I didn't even have to make dinner tonight and time has still flown by.

So, let's talk about this period thing. I hate it.  I hate everything about it, I'm so sick of it.  I'm sick of the inconvenience of it, the mess of it, the what-the-fuck-I'm-over-40 pimples of it, cramps, bloating, exhaustion, and the erratic mood swings that have become more extreme and intense the older I've gotten in what are hopefully the waning years of my fertility.

I used to get so irate, so offended when I was having a particularly bad day and some insensitive fuck would say, "What, are you on your period?"  How very DARE you!

But turns out...yeah, actually, I probably was, or more accurately, about to be.

And what's worse is that it seems my PMS is getting longer.  Now, it's nearly two weeks of depth-of-despair moods where I'm crying in the shower for no reason, Britpop nonstop on Pandora to remind me of my misspent youth and the general "oh my god, is this really my life?" gloom.

I still hold onto the thought that those feelings are rooted in reality to some extent, that I am dissatisfied with my life in some way, but most days, I can handle it.  I certainly don't want to kill myself over it.

Side bar: I totally just had an image of Sylvia Plath flash into my brain.  I just know that bitch was PMS-ing when she shoved her head in an oven.  In fact, right after I had that thought, I googled the Bell Jar and pages such as "suffered from severe PMS" and "books to avoid reading when you're PMS-ing" came up, so there.  Noted.

I'm very tired tonight, so this is a short post, but one of my resolutions for 2013 is to write more regularly, so I'm sticking to it.

Incidentally, two of my long-standing resolutions did not have to make it to the list this year: to quit drinking and quit smoking. Drinking is a thing of my past, and I haven't had a real cigarette in over 5 months.  Oh, I have not given up my nicotine, but my e-cig is doing the job wonderfully.

Seriously, if you know of any smokers, I highly recommend getting them to try this.  It's sooo much safer than the real thing.  For both the smoker, and quite frankly, for you. 

Meanwhile, the Rottenator and I recently went to eat at one of our favorite chinese buffets and when we opened our fortune cookies, these were inside:

How cool, right?  The SAME fortune!  Normally my fortunes say things like "You need to improve your exercise routine and stop eating at so many buffets, fatty" but this one was badass.  Mostly because the Rottenator looked at me and said "Harry Potter, here we come!"

Actually what he probably said was "Yep.  Orlando trip" or something succinct like that, but I knew what he meant.

My Mood(ring) Tone of the Day:

My musical taste is well rounded, yo.

Pumped Up Kicks

Christmas was nice but over too soon.  I did manage to make it to my sister's for a very brief visit but it was awesome waking up and seeing the kids all get their Christmas gifts.

Of which there were many; you can read about that here and see a god awful pic of me as well. I am beginning to think that my sister is passively-aggressively taking out latent hostility towards me which is left over from my supposed torturing of her in our earlier days.  Either that, or she's just not a very good picture taker.  But I love her anyway ;-)

Work is still exhausting.   The Rottenator asked how I could be so exhausted from just sitting and talking on the phone all day and it's kinda hard to explain how mentally draining this job is to someone who doesn't understand it.  Hell, I don't understand what I'm doing half of the time...which adds to the exhaustion.  The best way to explain my job is to imagine sitting for 8 hours a day doing math problems.  Word math problems.  When you're not good at math.

Pretty much sums it up.

So, 2013 is upon us.  And I know, everyone says, "Oh, I'm not going to make resolutions; it's so stupid and predictable and everyone makes resolutions, so I'm going to be different and contrary and not make any."  Well, to those people, I say "fuck off, loser, stop trying to be contrary and different because now the fad is to NOT make resolutions so you're still a poser who's just trying to be different for the sake of being different."

So I'm making them. Because I'm edgy and cool.  I saw this on Facebook the other day and because I was having a particularly bad one where I doubted everything and was hating my life and questioning my existence on this planet and my purpose in life, I reposted it.

And though it may be cheesy and sentimental, I still feel that way.  It's the most difficult resolution of all, however, isn't it?

So, onto other ones, some more or less difficult, some more or less realistic and serious.

In no particular order:

• I'm still kinda serious about the 365 milkshakes taste-test in 365 days. Perhaps it will lead to a book deal and not the life-threatening diabetes which is probably the more realistic outcome.
• Lose (not loose, grammatical idiots) 40 lbs which is in direct conflict with the resolution above.  Also, eat healthier so I feel better and not sickly and tired all the time.
• Doctors appointments: mammogram, physical, gynecologist, dentist, top to bottom check out.  Bloodwork included.
• Celebrate my birthday at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios.  I have not yet celebrated my fourth decade on earth as a monumental occasion, so I may as well make this the one.
• Start writing again; even if that means nothing more than updating this blog more faithfully.  It gives me a creative outlet and keeps my brain from stagnating.

So far, that's the list.  I'm not going to go crazy with it, because then I'll look back on it as a insurmountable, unachievable list of "things I will never accomplish so fuck it all!" and not do a damn one of them, so let's keep it simple, stupid.

So, less of a list of resolutions and more of a touchstone of goals that I need to keep focused on.  That works for me.

Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Sidebar: I know nothing of this band, or any of their other songs; I just know that Pandora played it on my station today and I must say: great job Pandora!  Usually the songs they pick for me at random are totally like, WTF, seriously?!?  How do you get Michael Buble from my stating that I like Oasis and Blur, but whatever...

This one was different, though.  Very catchy.  Foster the People.  I'm afraid to research them for fear of ruining my enjoyment of this catchy little ditty.

Update: of course,  I had to read up on the band. Good news: I'm still okay with them!  Better news: I found a song I like that's only a couple of years old.

Kinda funny: they played this song on the Vampire Diaries.  Which explains why I had visions of myself dancing around in my bra and underwear getting drunk with Damon Salvatore.  And why I looked like Buffy Summers.

Ooooh, another update: I'm suddenly 16 years old just looking at these two together.

Another resolution: get really hot, be 20 years old, and have a devastatingly handsome and dangerous vampire boyfriend. Noted.

The Curse

And no, for once, I am not talking about my monthly "troubles", I'm talking about my jinx...which I guess could also be considered my monthlies, but I digress.

I am not a sports player, nor necessarily an all-around sports fan.  In fact, I didn't really learn to appreciate college football until about three years ago, when the Rottenator barged into my life.

However, I have been known to follow a sports figure or team now or again.  Jim Courier comes prominently to mind.  Have you ever heard of him?  He's a tennis player, he won a few Opens, probably could have won a grand slam, all four Opens in the same year, but he never did.  Know why?  Because I became a fan.  He retired soon after.  A loser.

The list is long of the teams, actors, actresses, athletes, bands, all who have ended up losing that cherished trophy or broken up because I suddenly developed an interest in them.

I'm pretty sure I single-handedly brought down the entire genre of Brit Pop.  You're either welcome, or I'm sorry.  Whichever fits.

So this brings me to this weekend.  Normally, I am an Alabama fan.  Luckily, they seem immune to my curse so far but I think that's mostly due to the Rottenator and his undying life-long love for them.  His powers far outreach my own when it comes to things like that.  He is the Yoda to my Obi-Wan.  Thank God.  Because they are looking unstoppable so far this year...knock on wood. For the love of God.

The Gamecocks...not so much.

I attended my first college football game yesterday, at my sister's alma mater, the University of South Carolina.  The Gamecocks.  They have been having a really good season this year, with the exception of the past two weeks where they lost a nail-biter to LSU, and a smackdown by Florida.  But, this weekend, they were playing at home, against the Tennessee Volunteers, and it was pretty much a given that they were going to win.

Which they did...barely...but not without a great deal of damage.

This is Marcus Lattimore.

He is an amazingly talented running back for Carolina.  He practically wins most of their games for them by himself.

This is Marcus Lattimore yesterday, during the game that I attended.

Yeah...so...sorry?  I'm not saying that I'm bad luck or anything but I'm freakin' bad luck!  Well, I can at least take solace in the fact that I'm not the WORST luck, because if that were the case, then I would have taken out Jadaveon Clowney too and the entire season would have been a wash, but as it is, Tennessee has far worse luck than even I can conflict on a team, so they ended up fumbling in the last few minutes of the game, and Carolina ended up winning.

Though I do have a fondness for Tennessee's coach, Derek Dooley.  And losing that game yesterday probably cost him his job.

Oh God.

That being said, the Rottenator and I had a really good time.  And here are the pics to prove it!  And no, it didn't rain.  Yet as cloudy as it was, I ended up with a sunburn.  Yes, I am the palest girl on the planet.  However, now, I am a bonafide redneck.

The Rottenator...and a handsome young man in an Atari shirt

Cocky!  Yes, that is his name

Hootie!  A proud USC alumnus

My hair is pulled back yet still frizzy.

Money Can't Buy...what, exactly?

Whoever said "Money can't buy happiness" was obviously an obnoxiously rich depressed fuck or some hairy arm-pitted hippy, because, lemme tell you, having a little bit of scratch does make the world better.

No, the Rottenator and I are not rolling in it yet, but our financial situation is more stable than it has ever been in the entire time we've been together, and although we still have our quibbles and squabbles, our relationship is better too.

Because you know what?  Money can buy a reliable car, dinners at mid-scales buffets, a little peace of mind, and lots of cat treats and e-cig accessories.

Which leads to less stress.  And less stress = less violently angry Rottenator which makes the world a more enjoyable place.

The way to a man's heart truly is through his stomach...and his love of football.

Which why this jersey:

And tickets to this game this weekend:

are probably the best purchases of my life.

Other than this:

In other me related news, I had a great time at my sister's house this weekend, babysitting her chirren:

who are just the most hilarious and beautiful children in the word.  It was my sister's birthday, so I purchased these for her (she's a Gamecock and Bill Murray fan, obvs):

In fact, I don't believe I would be exaggerating if I were to say that Bill Murray needs to hire extra security.

Just sayin'.

So anyhoo, things are still going well.  New trainer at work, hurrah!  Which makes it a lot better.  Speaking of that, I think that the US of A needs to rethink it's work schedule.  Or at least my company does, because 4 days on/3 days off leaves me much more motivated.  In fact, even after a weekend away from home, I still managed to do laundry, clean the house, go to the grocery store, and post some mail.  Having a free day during the normal "work week" should be a routine...for me, of course, not for everyone else, because then I wouldn't be able to get my shit done, which would defeat the purpose.


To recap:

New car...

New washer and dryer...

New accessories for the car...

Life is pretty darn okay right now.  Only two things would  make it complete...

New Rottenator and new Nooge?  Say what!??!

I kid...kinda...

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Maybe later...

I'll feel up to writing a real post but until then, brief update:

• Things are going well; very well.  New car, new cell phone, new washer and dryer, work is okay, new license, got my nails did, the Nooge is still driving me crazy, the Rottenator is as well, and I'm okay with being 41.  In fact, I'd forgotten about turning 41...until now.  Dammit.

• I went to Carowinds with my sis and her fam last weekend for my niece's birthday.  It was SOOO much fun, and I'm stealing a photo from her site to show just how much fun I had:

Me and Vic

I need to see the dentist

Could I be any toothier?

Incidentally,  I rode EVERY rollercoaster, something I never would have done 100 lbs ago and I found out that I LOVE it.  It's addicting...and with me having an addictive personality...well, let's just say there are worse things to be addicted to.

I did manage to convince my sister onto one rollercoaster and it was all fun and games til we saw the pictures.  You know the ones that they snap of you at certain points of the ride?  Well, let's just say that while my sister and I felt like this as we were riding the coasters:

The reality was much more like this:

And this:

Needless to say...we passed on purchasing the pics.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of the Day:

Yes, Kathleen, They Do Exist

I first read about these five years ago.  I can't remember exactly when or where this took place, but it was a discovery that changed me forever.  I knew that it would become my life's mission to have, to taste, to possess, one of my own.

It was not until last night that I was able to cross this off of my bucketlist.  And of all places, this was achieved at my neighborhood Kroger (what up Kroger! Didn't I tell you it was fucking awesome?!?)

Small confession: I can be a tad bit obsessive about things (What? You? No! GTFO! Never!).  It's true.  You can ask my family and friends. I can get a little focused.

Thus it was with the Grapple.  And the most infuriating thing was that despite its promises on the website that they were available at a store near me, they never were.  Now, the smaller cities I've lived in in SC, okay, that I can understand, but I started looking for these damn things when I was in Atlanta.  Atlanta, SON!  And still nothing.

You can ask the Rottenator.  He was really fucking tired of searching down every store in our 15 mile radius looking for a damn fruit that he was convinced I'd imagined.  Yeah, he told me numerous times that I'd made the whole thing up just to annoy him.  And just because I read about a food in a Harry Potter book didn't mean it actually existed.

Grapples were a real damn thing (incidentally, so is butterbeer so he can bite me), and I hadn't read about them in Harry Potter, but somewhere else...which I couldn't remember...but hey, they had a website so of course they existed! Because there are no lies on the internet, everyone knows that.  Ahem.

Bottom line: last night I proved him wrong, didn't I?!?!  Does it matter that they tasted like a regular ol' apple with a barely noticeable hint of grape so subtle it could easily be missed? No.  Did it matter that I'm not even really an apple fan?  Absolutely not.  The monkey on the packaging?  Whatever!  It was obviously an homage to Grape Ape without the licensing permission, so I could deal.  How about the fact that they cost $6.50 for a four pack?  Hell NO!  Well, actually, yes, that was a bit harder to swallow, but still!!!

I WAS RIGHT.  And I accomplished another, albeit seemingly insignificant to some, goal in my life.

How I'm feeling today: