Happy Birthday to me Goddammit

It's about this time:

And of course I didn't hear back about my test results so I will spend the entire weekend exploiting the whole "really? Well, I may have cancer!" angle until it's worn the hell out and everyone who knows me tells me to go fuck myself, which will be entirely understandable.

Hopefully I will find out on Monday or Tuesday; still leaning towards the hysterectomy; everyone I've talked to: "You don't want kids? Get that shit taken out, what are you waiting for?"

In the meantime, looking forward to a good day with the sis and the fam tomorrow; will try to tone down the "C" talk in front of the kiddies, but make no mistake: I'm riding this sucker out.

Incidentally, have any of you ever thought about a will or an obituary or things like that? Kind of morbid, I know, but I'm currently composing a pretty killer (no pun intended) obituary, because I tend to lean towards the morbid anyway, and I would have done this with or without the possible cancer diagnosis.  This just gives me an excuse.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

I'm Like King Midas In Reverse. Everthing I Touch Turns To Shit

First of all, holy crap, this makes me sad:

I loved Tony Soprano, and beyond that, James Gandolfini.  He was amazing.

So, what have I been up to?  Not much.  On Saturday, whilst cooking up frozen sausage links, I managed to flip them in such a way that the frozen meat combined with the hot grease that splattered all over me and therefore, gave me huge blisters and burn marks all over my face.

Needless to say,  I was unhappy.  It's amazing how much my sense of vanity kicked in when "faced" with the fact that I may have to go out in public with pretty obvious burn marks all over my face.

I felt like this:

It was a weird sensation; usually, I am so concentrated on how ashamed I am of my body, to have visible markings on my face, that really threw me for a loop, to have my face "disfigured"...yes, it made me realize how superficial I am, in that I took advantage of my sick time at work and just managed my way in today, when I was able to cover everything up with makeup.

And side note: I highly recommend Neosporin.  It is like Noxzema in the way that it is a miracle worker.  Sometimes the old remedies are the best; they are tried and true for a reason. I am nearly all healed up and able to cover everything with make up.

So, what else:  once again, I realized that when the Rottenator and I are forced to spend extra time together, I am filled with murderous rage.  In that: truthfully, it was his time to enjoy himself at home and I was the unwelcomed intruder, but in the other sense, I was significantly unhappy with the fact that we spent 48 hours watching ESPN and old Alabama football games on YouTube.  I am again trying to deal with the fact that we have nothing in common but we still try to  make sacrifices because God knows, we do love each other when it comes down to it.

Other thoughts: my happy pills: they seemed to be working at first but now I just feel angry and confrontational about my life...but at least I'm not depressed, right? I'm reserving judgement for at least two more weeks, but right now...I don't feel a significant difference.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day...oh wait, I have two...

And now I'm in the mood for really good pasta.

The gubment do take a bite, don't she?

Remember how I complained recently about being bored?  I take it all back!

My goals for this year included trying to make amends for mistakes I had made in my past.  To continue on a path of being a better person, make amends, become an upstanding member of society, yada yada yada, and then boom!  Your past mistakes catch up with you with a vengeance and despite all of the effort and progress you've made, you're back to square one.  Or, actually, back to square minus 1.

Or, minus every cent in your bank account.

Without going into too much detail, due to past indiscretions, I had managed to rack up a substantial amount of back taxes due to the world-famous IRS.  This was the time to make up for that; the Rottenator and I both have stable incomes, stable jobs, and it was time to repay my debt to society.

I did not realize that society would be so swift and vengeful.  Oh, yes, people complain about how lax and ineffective the US government is, how they take forever to get anything accomplished, but obviously that does not include the swiftness and efficiency they display when it comes to getting paid.

And oh yes, did they ever get paid.

Not two days after filing this year's taxes and contacting an agent to discuss payment arrangements regarding past due taxes, the IRS swooped swept(?) in and summarily wiped out our bank account.

Every...fucking...cent.

So as I sit here, helpless wondering how we're going to pay our bills, make our way to our jobs, keep our car and our house and even the Nooge, I find myself wondering...why bother?

Why bother trying to be a better person?  To right past wrongs?  To make up for past mistakes? To even have hopeful expectations that this life is anything other than a constant struggle to barely manage to keep your head above water to barely survive?

It would be fantabulous if I were a stronger person, if I could withstand the constant obstacles that life throws at you and still move forward cheerfully, with the faith and knowledge that everything will be just fine.  But I am not.

I can't decide if I am weak, or if I'm just over it.  Like, "been here, done that, finished with the struggling already, please give me a fucking break".

I blame myself. I know that I have dug this hole for myself, but seriously, can't I have two second of being bored without the higher powers stepping in and saying, "Oh, you're bored?  You're not happy with your life?  Well, deal with this then, heifer!"

Doesn't God realize that sometimes you're PMS-ing and you just need to vent, and he doesn't need to go around mucking things up just to make life more "interesting"?

Not that I blame him; I'm too Catholic and too fearful of his wrath to do that, but seriously...I take it back. I take it all back.

Much like the IRS.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

Sidebar: did you know that this was the theme song to M.A.S.H.?  That was one of my Dad's favorite shows. For some melodramatic reason that just makes me more sad and depressed.

I've Got A Feeling It Doesn't Matter

I really need to get back to that thing I was doing for a while where I would just keep myself so busy all day every day that I would fall asleep into bed utterly exhausted, too spent to even allow my brain to wander.

Because my brain wanders into dark and dangerous places when I get too bored and have too much time on my hands, my friends.

The Rottenator got a new job, thanks in large part to moi.  He was miserable at his old job and they were starting to cut back on his hours and working him harder and harder and therefore, not only he was suffering, but we all were.  So, I got to looking, filling out applications, fancied up his resume, and boom, new job and he starts in a couple of weeks.

It will take a lot of stress off of him (I hope) and will mean more income and benefits (actual health insurance and 401k, say WHAT?!?!) so it is definitely a good thing.

My job is finally calming down as well.  The end of the year is nightmare in the tax/payroll area of expertise, but I managed to claw my way through it, and the job is settling back into a comfortable routine.  I take my final test, my "pass or get fired" exam later this month or early next one, but I'm not very worried about it.  And it comes with a 5% raise, so woo hoo.  Things are looking up.

So why am I bored and lonely and letting my mind wander into the Land of Gloom and Doom?  I do not know. I have long ago given up trying to figure out my dark and twisty mind.

The cat is driving me bat shit crazy, I know that.  I don't know if the Nooge is going through a growth spurt or catapause, but he will never let up.  He just...won't...quit.

He is clawy and bitey, and will not settle down.  I have a little side table beside my chair on which I put my drink and remote controls while typing away on my laptop and he is determined to tip it over and push it across the room, and knock shit off of it.  Currently he is running laps around the living room, trying to jump up onto the fireplace mantle, and springboarding himself off of what little bit of my lap isn't supporting my computer and I want to kill him.  God help me and I hate to admit it but only because admitting it probably makes me look like a horrible person, but I am not enjoying him one bit right now.  The only thing that saves his life on a daily basis is the fact that he is not a bad natured kitty and I know that he loves me.  That, and the fact that I couldn't live with myself if I did one day become so enraged that I threw him out to fend for himself then saw a little orange flurry splatter on the road as I drove to work the next day.

That would be devastating, so I will deal with him and his current unpleasantness.

Ah, well.  Tomorrow I will cook chicken alfredo in my oven that doesn't work right half the time and I will refrain from killing the cat who now has turned his attention to our lamp and will no doubt knock it over for the umpteenth time and shatter yet another lightbulb.

My Mood(Ring) Tone(s) of the Day:

I will not miss this next week

So how's everyone doing this AM?

Grumplestilskin

Just one of those days where I'm in a bad mood for no reason.  Actually, I'm probably in a bad mood because I'm tired and more than likely PMS'ing, but I find it much easier to blame my mood on the Rottenator, because god knows, he probably deserves it for some reason.

For example, tonight, as I was washing dishes after making dinner, doing some serious pondering (my other pondering place is my shower, but I'm usually pondering over what I'm going to wear to work that day, so I have less time to harbor resentments) I just started thinking...what have you done for me lately?

As I'm typing this, he just let out the most horrendous fart, so that, in itself, is reason for me to loathe him completely.

Another reason is that...seriously, I was thinking, when has he ever done anything completely, selflessly, entirely for me without expecting some sort of reward, or without getting...

So, I started this post last night and I'll leave off there for authenticity's sake but I'm not in a much better mood tonight.  I really shouldn't post when tired, but a lot of my emotions are still the same. We had a big fight again tonight about the yard, which is growing up to my eyeballs, and the trashcan, which needed to be taken to the curb and which I have done the past few weeks.  What's the point of having a big strapping young man around if they don't take care of these things for you?  Good question, no answer.

But he did it tonight after my incessant bitching.  But the yard:  "I'm not motivated to get out there and do it."  Really?  REALLY!?!?!  Like I live to clean the bathroom and mop the kitchen, but I fucking do it. Whatever.

This is not going to be a good post because I didn't stick to my diet today and I'm frustrated.  Of course I'm going to blame that on him, too.  The mall and the food court.  He forced that gyro wrap down me...and the curly fries...and the frozen yogurt (nutella frozen yogurt, is amazing btw, I highly recommend it, especially when swirled with peanut butter, oh...my...goddess.

This is where I'm frustrated with myself because I could have been fine with just the wrap but of course I had to order the curly fries too and even though I was full by the time I finished the wrap, I forced down a few fries.  The more is more philosophy that I can't seem to get out of my head when it comes to food infuriates me.

But still I faithfully logged all of my calories as honestly as possible on MFP but GOD do I still want to stuff myself with cheetos slathered in dill dip before I go to bed.  Definitely PMS.  So, I will drink my water, finish up my computer stuff and go to bed.  Today is not a complete wash and I will hold onto my 10 lbs. lost as a win.

And I won't kill the Rottenator or the Nooge in the meantime...if all are lucky.  Yes, the Nooge who is insane because he was left alone for a few more hours and climbing all over me, knocking over water and slamming doors and walking across computer screens.

They should thank my friend Meryl at work for introducing me to E-Cigs. But my nerves are still fucking shot.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the day:

Flower Power

Remember this?  Yeah, well, this is the result of all my blood, sweat & tears:

That's it.  Out of the hundreds, nay, thousands, of seeds I planted a single flower bloomed.

I'm not even gonna post a picture of my disgusting mosquito-infested swamp pond.  Needless to say, the incessant heat and lack of rain this season has not been kind to my garden.

 

Maybe next year.

So, the new Batman movie opened last night:

and unless you've been living under a rock for the past 24 hours, you know about what went down in Colorado at the midnight premiere. And all I have to say about that is...what the fuckity fuck America?  Jesus Christ, seriously?!?!  Other than that, words fail me.  Everyone from the news media to the person sitting in the cube at work next to you has a theory/thought/opinion on this and what should happen next, and how it should be handled to the point that I'm not even going to get into it here because this is not that kind of blog or forum for dealing with something so horrific and tragic.  And, obviously, it has nothing to do with me, so, therefore, I shall move on.  Other than to say that I just...don't...get...it.

That being said, the Rottenator and I are going to see the movie tomorrow (what's that you say?  Two date nights in two three weeks?  That must be some kind of record?  It is!) and I am still looking forward to it mostly because the Rottenator doesn't have a lot of things he gets excited about (other than Alabama football) but this is one of them, so it should be a good day...and I will try to ignore the very slight feeling of apprehension I'm getting over the thought of possible copycats hanging outside the theatre waiting to mow us down.  If it's our time to go, it's our time.  If it's my time...I shall try to use the Rottenator as a shield as much as possible.

I hope you all have good weekends, too, and I wish you many happy date nights of your own.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day: (is totally random, but this song just popped into my head while I was at work today and I remembered how much I love it).

Cankles and Fat Rolls and Muffin Tops Oh My!

Perhaps if I'd stuck to my original plan of trying to limit my food intake for about a week before my flight, I wouldn't feel like this today:

Oh, well.  Woulda, coulda, shoulda.  The two sausage biscuits this morning probably didn't help either.  And now my jeans are screaming for mercy.  Oh, but if only this weren't a business trip and I could travel comfortably in my fancy pants.

But alas, I cannot.  So I will endure, and pray that I won't need a seatbelt extender.  And hope that I miss the Rottenator and the Nooge, because right now, they are both on my last nerve.  Kathleen needs a break!

Until next time, my Mood Ring(tone) of the Day (natch):

Oh, but if I could channel Audrey Hepburn today!  And I'd forgotten that John Denver wrote this song originally, but I felt it bad luck and/or karma to post a video of him performing it, no?

You Gotta Deal With PMP If You Wanna Be With Me

This explains SO much about what's been going on with me and my lady parts the past few months.

Glad to know that I'm not crazy (debatable) or that I might be dying again (to be confirmed by an actual MD shortly once my insurance kicks in).

Incidentally, almost dying is not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.  True fact.

How I'm (not) Feeling Today:

The Spider Situation

To the spider I allowed to cohabitate my home for the past few days:

Even after the initial horror of discovering you when I turned on my lamp, I overlooked your continued presence in Bella Cucina. You see,  I'd read on some stupid website somewhere that a spider in the house was a sign of good luck.  Obviously, the writer of that proverb had never heard of a black widow, or a brown recluse, but okay, whatever.  You weren't bothering me, I didn't bother you.  I could tolerate you much as one tolerates an unwanted, but unobtrusive, roommate.

Clearly you felt emboldened by my disregard of you, or perhaps it hurt your feelings, or maybe you were looking to commit suicide by proxy, I don't know.  Whatever the case, you decided to become a bit more intrusive.  Such as...dropping from the ceiling onto the keyboard of my laptop, which you obviously thought would spur me on to more drastic actions.  When we stared each other down, and I refused to participate in your game, you decided that a leap in my general direction would surely illicit the response you so (apparently) desired.

Unfortunately, a shriek from me as I frantically scrambled away and practically kicked my computer onto the floor while telling my fiance not to hurt you because I heard you were good luck, was not the correct counter to your forward move.  You were obviously frustrated by my attempts to be a good samaritan and decided on moving forward with a plan which could no longer be ignored.

You had babies.

I knew they were yours when the first tiny speck of a spider hatchling crawled across my computer screen.  You taught them well.

So, when finding you hovering above the door, no doubt planning your next suicidal leap:

I knew what had to be done.   It was inevitable, and what both of us really wanted in the end.

Smokin' Hot

Okay, so yeah, I'm a smoker, and have been for going on like...20 years.  It seriously is a hard ass thing to quit, lemme tell you, especially when you have no desire to quit whatsoever.  Whew, then it's really rough!

However, I've recently moved into a residence where there's no smoking inside.  I know.  One part of me was like, "there's no way in hell, screw this place!" but then I saw the kitchen, and was all in awe and in love with it and stuff, so the other part of me was like, "dammit!"  At least there's a chair on the porch.

Yes...I have a porch...with a rocking chair.  It's awesome.

So, while I haven't been successful in completely giving up the cancer sticks (there's been stress lately accompanied with thoughts of murder and mayhem) having to go outside has definitely cut down on my formerly one pack a day habit.

Plus, other than the bonus of it being cheaper (are you kidding me with how expensive those things are?  As JJ* would say, "it's riDICulous!) I have to tell you, I really do love living in a house that doesn't smell like smoke.  I love that my clothes don't smell like smoke, I love not opening the door and being accosted by the fumes of tobacco and tar.

Basically, I love not living in a cancer house.  I've always been like that, though.  I smoke, but I don't like smelling like it.  I'm the asshole who reserves a non-smoking room in a hotel and smokes in it because yeah, I'm gonna smoke, mother fucker, I just don't want to stay in a room that smells like someone else's smoke.  Mmmhmm, yep, I think I'm entitled and shit.  Okay, but before you yell at me about that, I'd just like to clarify that I actually do not do that anymore, so don't even start.  Number one, I don't have the bank to stay in any hotels, and number 2, I got busted and thrown out of a hotel once for doing just that, so I learned my lesson.

Which brings me to the point of this post which is, essentially, a simple two step guide on giving up smoking written by a smoker who has not yet given it up, but certainly appears to be heading in that direction, so who better to give unsolicited advice?

Kathleen's Awesome Guide to Awesomely Quit Smoking Those Awesome Cigarettes.

1.  Move into a residence where it is against the rules and is written into your lease that no one is allowed to smoke inside of the house at any time for any reason.

2.  Don't be a rule breaker.

Ta dah!  That's all it takes, and you too will one day be an almost former smoker like me.  Good luck!

Lesson of the day: Being a sloppy smoking drunk may seem cool in your 20s but go ahead and plan on giving that shit up on your 29th birthday because after that, it ain't pretty.  And on that note, I would still like the following song to be played at my funeral (I just don't want that funeral to be like, you know, next week or anything) :

*JJ is Judge Judy, natch, for those of you not in the know or familiar with her awesomeness.

Death + Celebrity = Instant Sainthood

Really, people?  And by people, I mean all of you guys on Facebook.  Just because some washed up, let's face it, crack-addicted has-been dies, she's a martyr.  Why?  Because she was given a (in the opinion of some, not including me) voice and could carry a note at one time?  Whitney Houston was a trainwreck.  I couldn't stand her when she was alive, I certainly think no better of her now that she's dead.  Amy Winehouse had a god-given talent too that she wasted, and at the time, everyone was like, "Well, abusing substances like she did, she deserved it."  Well, so did Whitney.  Who also committed the unpardonable sin of pronouncing it "ax" instead of "ask"...repeatedly.

So, let's all take a moment of silence...before watching the video below which confirms the fact that Kathy Griffin is one funny chick.