LEEP of Faith? No, Death, Definitely Death

So, results back from the doc...

Not bad enough for the insurance to cover the hysterectomy, but enough to cover a LEEP procedure...which yay! Not cancer.  But boo! I could have to possibly have to get this done AGAIN down the road, and let's be honest, it sucks ass trying to get time off from my job, and really not looking forward to seeing the gyno every six months, so quite frankly, I was hoping to get everything ripped the fuck out.

I'm never having kids, no plans to EVER, so why not? Stupid insurance; Doc Awesomesauce says that it wouldn't cover a hysterectomy at this point; test results were abnormal, but not THAT abnormal (obviously there are levels of abnormal in the medical field) which is too bad;  I was looking forward to 4-6 weeks off from work, with people taking care of me, and pain pills.  No such luck.  Back to work in a day or two, which sucks, because I have no sick time left, and trying to schedule off time from work from what is basically a call center is hard as shit.

But whatever.  I'm going to ask Dr. Awesomesauce to recommend that I'm off at least 6 days for recovery...that way I will get paid.  Yes, I'm  working the system, but I'm also a big fat wimp when it comes to pain, so knowing me, I will be wallowing in bed for that long after this procedure.  Because IT SOUNDS HIDEOUS.

But it's not cancer. So that's a plus.


Pre-surgery: Oct 10, actual surgery Oct 15.  Whining and moaning about it: for weeks and weeks after.

Meanwhile, it's almost Friday, and College Football Saturday is almost upon us, so just one more day until the weekend.  It's weird, I've been feeling strangely sad and alone and missing the Rottenator, which is VERY weird, because he's been here and stuff, but I don't know...maybe it's his preoccupation with Grand Theft Auto 5 or maybe it's just the state of mind I've been in, but I've been feeling VERY alone lately.  Doesn't help that we work different shifts, I guess, but it is truly an odd sort of feeling for me, because I usually love my alone time.  Ah, well. Hormones, I guess.  Zoloft cannot take care of everything.  But I'm feeling okay.

Oh, and seriously, why do I like Nicki Minaj? Someone explain to me why I find her so catchy because she is my:

Mood Ring(Tone) Of the Day:

This also brought me great joy this week; it's just fun, and I adore Stephan Merchant.

Thanks for keeping up with me; I'll now go lurk around and keep up with all of you...

Life is Life

Recent summation of the events going on lately:

1. Rottenator has decided to go back to school to become a radiology technician...aka "radiologic technologist".
2. My job is still blah.
3. Happy pills seem to be working...with the exception that I'm feeling a little bit aggressive.  Disclosure: anyone else have any experience with Wellbutrin? Or any suggestions of any happy pills that seem to be working for them? Feel free to message me privately.
4. I can't get past level 6 of the retro Buffy game that I bought for the Xbox and therefore, I am again boycotting videogames.
5. One of my work friends is suffering from lupus, and going through chemotherapy and is in daily pain and it makes me realize how ultimately god-awful I am at comforting people.

About #5 up there, well, bottom line, pain and suffering makes me uncomfortable. So I've always taken the role of the court jester.  I'm much better at making someone laugh than commiserating with them in their  pain.  I hope that does not make you think of me as superficial, or not understanding of any their suffering.  Believe me, I do. It's a defense mechanism; I'm working on it. And I really do hope that laughter is the best medicine.

My Mood(ring) Tone of the Day: #1:

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day #2 (a repeat, but appropriate):

Happy 4th of July!  As you should have probably guessed by this point, I celebrate every holiday there is not so much for the meaning of the holiday as it was originally intended, but more so as the whole festival and spectacular of the whole thing.

And it means that I get a day off from work.  And it also means that people are a little bit happier on this day.  So there you go. Worth a shout out.

And then there's this...

I love the Bloggess.  She says what I wish I could say but she said it first.  And she puts it so succinctly.

Which is why she has a book and I do not...yet...

I recently fought myself out of a deep hole of depression that was affecting everything in my life, and then I got myself some happy pills, and immediately felt better.

Yes, I realize that some of the "feeling better within an hour of taking a pill" was probably psychosomatic, but still, whatever works, right?  Bottom line:  I'm feeling pretty good right now.

As in:  I don't feel that my job is destroying me. I have put that bad boy back in its place:  it is a paycheck, it is a secure job, with possible advancement and decent benefits.  It does not define me, and when I clock out at 6:30pm, I can leave it there.  And I don't cry in the shower every morning before I have to go in just thinking about it.  And seriously, Kathleen, with everything else going on in the world... snap the fuck out of it.

Yes, I talk to myself in the third person.  It's one of the many things that Kanye West and I have in common.  Incidentally, please take the time to read this article; Kanye is crazy.  I love this man and his music is brilliant but he is batshit nuts.  Which is probably why I have sympathy and love for him.

Bottom line: I'm feeling better.  Life is manageable.  And I am reminded time and again of other people who have it much, MUCH worse than myself who still manage to soldier through without a hint of a complaint.

I have a very close "work" friend who has lupus and was recently admitted into the hospital because her kidneys were failing, and she needs chemo.  This very strong woman relayed this information to me very casually from her hospital bed where she was being pumped full of chemicals, and her one request: "just send me some funny messages to cheer me up".

And here I am, my entire family is happy and healthy, and I'm whining because my job may be a little bit challenging.

Whatever.

I have decided to forgive myself (it's easier that way) and focus on the good.  And the funny.

With that in mind, let us all celebrate the fact that I have recently lost 7 lbs by doing no more than "doing" all of my major eating at lunch, and restricting my dinner caloric intake to a minimum...and cutting out the evening snacking altogether.  It sucks, because I do miss my 1am gelato break, but I am willing to sacrifice it in the meantime if this is the end result.


My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

This chemical imbalance b.s. has gone on long enough.  So, I procured some "happy" pills from the resident doctor, and I hope they do the trick.  At least until my gynecologist appointment in July, where I expect a thorough up and down examination of what exactly is wrong with me.

My hormones are out of whack.  That I know.  It's going on nearly three months since "Aunt Flo" or whatever, my god damn period, has happened, so I know that my hormones are completely unbalanced.  I have all the PMS symptoms without the "relief" as it were, so as well as mental issues, there are also physical ones that need to be addressed.

And no (Mother), I am not pregnant.

About three years ago, or close to, I almost died, and stuff, and I'm pretty sure it wrecked havoc on my body, so early menopause would not be a surprise at this point.  And I have made arrangements to have this confirmed and/or denied, but the earliest appointment I could get is in late July, and my brain was not about to have that shit.

It was all like, "Hey! Pay attention to me!  Because you know how you were all depressed in college and you were Emo and everything when back then it was just called Goth and you thought you were cool, well, it's not so cool anymore, missy, because you're nearly 42 years old, and now it's just called pathetic...and kinda sad.  And you don't want to be that middle-aged chick freaking all the youngsters out at the newest, hippest club while they roll their eyes and try to avoid eye contact with you and barely move their bodies to old school Joy Division songs...that they think they invented."

My brain tends to ramble.  And is obviously quite the fan of run-on sentences.

BTW, the best part about this video is this is EXACTLY how I used to dance.

Besides...I gots bills to pay, and adult responsibilities, so seriously, I need to get my shit in order.  So, I have taken the first step in doing so.

Drugs.

Helluva thing.

Unlike Rick James, I have decided that legal anti-depressant drugs may just be the answer, so I'll keep you posted on how this turns out.  I think it's a positive step.

And I apologize ahead of time for my COMPLETE self-absorption lately and my ignorance of all of my friends and relations, online, or offline.  I promise to do better.

Don't feel too bad; the Rottenator has felt it too.  Incidentally, he just got new glasses because his eyes are "shaped like footballs" or so his opthamologist (optometrist?) told him.

Meanwhile, I do not find it ironic at all that the Rottenator, who bleeds college football ("Roll Tide!") has "football" shaped eyes.

He is very excited about his new "crystal clear" vision.  It's like a whole new world.  Something that others in this household have taken for granted since, oh, BIRTH.

At least the Nooge aka "Fatboy" will no longer have the visionary advantage in this household.

Today was a day with promise.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day (see how I did that?)

Long Weekend...

So, I have a much needed four day weekend break from work thanks to the Memorial Day holiday on Monday, and my forward thinking to request Tuesday off as well, so woo hoo!  Good thinking on my part, because I am much in need of an extended break.

I won't know the results of my "pass or you get fired" test until early June, but things did not go well.  At least the first day.  I felt better about the second day, but there were math problems involved, and as we all know:

It tends to stagger me.  But we'll see.  I'll know whether or not I passed a stupid test that has nothing to do with my day-to-day job in order to keep said job in early June. Until then...I ain't bothered.

Other than that, despite my crushing depression that keeps me from even wanting to wake up in the morning, the Rottenator has been spectacular in supporting me the best he can.  I cannot say it enough: there is something to be said for someone who loves you unconditionally.  Yes, you may get angry when they leave the seat up...don't take the garbage can to the curb...play NBA basketball on Xbox non-stop, but seriously...then they spend a whole day taking you out to eat, enduring your shopping for clothes, feigning interest in the things you're interested in...it means a lot.

So you deal with the minor problems when it comes down to the fact that they are loyal, love you unconditionally, and do whatever they can to make you feel better...even when there's nothing that they can do.  That makes me sad for him, actually.  Because there is no logical reason for me to feel so down right now and he is scrambling to do everything he can to make it better, but he can't.  Stupid chemical imbalance.

But it's okay; I'm soon to get everything sorted;  tomorrow is my mother's birthday, and I made her a strawberry pie...I will post pictures tomorrow, once it's all decorated with the whipped cream and whatnot, and share the recipe IF it gets the approval.  It's a homemade version of a Shoney's strawberry pie, y'all.

In the meantime, I am losing myself in a marathon of "Arrested Development" on Netflix because it is one of my most favorite shows every, and they are debuting 14 new episodes tomorrow.  God love the internet.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

The Reckoning

So, the next two days involve testing to determine whether or not I am qualified to perform a job that I detest.  If I do not pass, I shall be fired.

The sad part is that even though I detest this job, it means very much to me that I pass these tests. Because God forbid I feel the embarrassment of failure.  It's an ego thing; it's not so much about the job, because I couldn't give a fuck about this job, but god forbid I am perceived as a failure at anything...even if it is something that I despise.

So off to bed I got to at least get 7 hours of good sleep.

There are so many thoughts running through my head. *sigh* Depression and hormones are a hell of a thing.  It's been a while since I have been on an anti-depressant but I feel the need to explore that realm of possibility again.  Also, an appointment with a gyno to determine what sort of treatment I need to start to get a hold of this absolutely depressing, frustrating, god-awful mood I have been in.  Especially because it seems that I do not even have PMS to blame.

My Mood (Ring) Tone of the Day:

Fatty Boombalatty

I am so frustrated with myself.  I had at one point gotten down to an acceptable 155 lbs that I was quite happy with, but over the course of the months of having a miserable job wherein all I do is sit on my ass, I have managed to gain back 25 lbs in a relatively short period of time.

I have had a life long struggle with my weight.  And this 25 pounds just discourages me and depresses me even further because I feel like I am losing the tenuous self control I had on myself.  And it just seemed to happen overnight.

Logically, I know what to do.  Exercise, and eating healthy.  Believe me, I know.  I have spent most of my life researching both.  I know exactly what I should do; it's just having the motivation to do it that I find the most difficulty with.

And this is where I cast the blame on everyone but myself:

1. We don't have the money to join the gym or the Y.
2. We don't have the money to spend on healthy food so that's why I'm eating pasta instead of salads.
3. I don't have the energy after dismal days at work to even think about exercising before or after my 8.5 hours of hell that I have to spend on earth every day.
4. Burgers and fries taste so much more awesome than turkey and steamed vegetables.
5. Water tastes like spit, diet soda is just as good.

I just feel so fucking hungry all the time.  And it feels like I have nothing else to turn to.  I don't drink, don't smoke, don't have any hobbies, nothing else to distract me from wallowing in my misery.

So tell me, what do you do?  My mother is getting her pool in order so I'm going to start swimming again, which is awesome, because it is exercise in which I don't have to sweat, and I do love to swim, so there's that, but what else?

I need some other distractions, people.  Because I long ago gave up the goal of being the perfect 10.  I just want to feel comfortable, happy, and healthy in my own skin.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

Though honestly, my dream Mood Ring(tone) is:

Afraid To Admit I'm Bovvered...

One of the most annoying things I find about life is that the very second you have that thought of "hmmm...I'm feeling a bit bored right now", it  doesn't hit you with a "Hey! You just won the lottery!" Or even, "Hey! You just won a $150 free grocery card!" or even, "Hey! You just won a vacation package to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter (if only)!"

Life is more likely to reward you with a "Hey! You're being audited by the IRS!" Or, "Hey! You're getting fired from  your job!" Or even, "Hey! You have a tumor!"

So I will refrain from saying that I'm rather bored with my daily routine right now for fear of some astronomical catastrophe befalling me, but I would like to say...I'm bovvered.

I've had enough drama in my life to not wish any more upon myself, but I'm really...bovvered by my job; by the most exciting decision I have to make is to choose which all you can eat buffet I want to patronize; by which of the three articles of clothing that actually fit I decide to wear today.

And if you mention anything about Kathleen having "first world problems" I will stab you in the face with an icepick.

Did I happen to mention I may be a wee bit hormonal, and if this period doesn't hurry the fuck up,  there is going to be a bloodbath...no pun intended.  All Rottenators and Nooges better heed this warning.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

And Now I Feel Guilty...Like I Need More Of This In My Life....

So the Nooge has an equally annoying and sweet habit of "making biscuits" on any part of my soft and cushy body that he can.

It's very sweet, because it means that he was probably weened too soon, and that he recognizes me as his "mama", so that part is comforting.

The other part is...it hurts like hell because his claws are sharp as fuck, as he is wont to keep them.

Well, tonight he was a little too enthusiastic about his contentment and when he dug in particularly hard, my natural reflex was to smack him away and yell...as one would an annoying and unexpected insect that was causing extreme pain.

And his little face at that reaction when he leapt from my lap and turned back to stare at me with big Puss'n Boots eyes.

And of course I burst into hysterical tears.  Because I am PMS-ing, (I think, maybe, who knows), and because I'm equally annoyed with everything in my life.

My job, where every time you turn around, there's another vaguely threatening email about how you will get fired if you step out of line in anyway; my home life, where I have no energy to clean, so my Virgo side is freaking the fuck out about the dustbunnies and floors that need vacuuming, and the eating of craptacular food because we're saving up for another car.

Incidentally, the Rottenator and I did go to PF Changs the other day, which has been our "go-to-mid-range-not-exactly-authentic-but-always-delicious-Asian-restaurant" and they had updated their menu...which included no-more Wok-Seared lamb, which devastated the Rottenator, and they'd added "Shaking Beef"...which made me violently nauseous at least three times during "Jurassic Park 3-D in Imax".  Highly disappointing for our one and only date-night in quite a few months.

Just another thing to mark on the list of things that are irritating the fuck out of me in my life.

My Mood(ring) Tones of the Day:

Incidentally, did you know that the Violent Femmes did a cover of this song?  Me either!

Which brings me to this:

I'm sick, leave me alone

So after days of watching people around me call in sick and striving to be the better person, the trend bucker, as it were, I succumbed...and now I'm home "sick" myself.

Which has caused me stress.  You see, my goal at my new job is to be the ideal employee, or at the very least, be the sort of employee that passes right underneath the radar and gets left alone.  Or, ideally, forgotten.

Because this has become my life:

And also because the Rottenator woke me up at 3am to discuss finances because due to a slight miscalculation on his part, we are in the red again.

*sigh*  Seriously?  Just...can't...do...it...anymore.

So after transferring all of his fear and frustration and guilt onto me, he is peacefully sleeping and I am wide awake and slightly panicked.  We will be fine, surely, but once again things are tight.

Short month, purchasing a secondary car that needs repairs, yada yada yada, the perfect solution is to call out from work right?

Right.  Because if it works in the movies, then surely this plan will be as successful in real life.

And instead of relaxing and enjoying this much needed break from payroll, I will spend the entire day afraid of losing my job and getting into trouble.  Because at heart, I am more a Cameron than a Ferris.

But I'm just tired, yo...and sometimes it's hard to stay motivated.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

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:

A Perfect Illusion

It's not easy being perfect.  Believe me, I know from first hand experience.  It's hard work.

It's also terribly frustrating carrying on this pretense of perfection.  And lonely.

For many years, I strived to be perfect and that got me absolutely nowhere.  It left me isolated, friendless, jobless and hopeless.

Because for many years I had a problem, an addiction you could say, that thankfully I managed to break myself of.  Unfortunately, it was not my eating disorder.  That is still a work in progress.

But the entire time I was suffering and weak, I was afraid to show it to anyone, even my family, which was truly devastating, because it almost cost me my very close relationship with my sister, that I value very deeply. And rightfully so, because I was a hot mess.  I was so wrapped up in myself that I couldn't get past my own selfishness to see how my behavior was affecting others.  Others who cared about me.

Luckily, my sister was the better person and hung with me long enough to see me to the other side.  For which I am eternally grateful. Because she is my best friend, my bestie,  my BFF.  Probably the only other woman on the planet that I can get along with for an extended period of time, because honestly, women can be so catty and competitive and nice-nasty that they get on my last nerve.

But maybe that's just Southern women, I don't know.  And for my female fans, I apologize.  Maybe it's just me, maybe you have tons of fantastic girl friends, then good for you.  I do not.

But I digress. What was I talking about?  Oh, ME, that's right, my bad.

And my selfishness.  I'm still selfish, very, but I'd like to think that I've grown out of that somewhat.  I'm not the sort to inconvenience myself regularly for the sake of others, but if I like you, if I care about you, I'll put up with some of your imperfections.  Oh, sure, I'll judge you silently, but I'll take the time to listen to your troubles, buy you a birthday cake, make you dinner, loan you a few bucks if I have it, wait with you when you've left the lights on in your car for someone who knows how to jump a battery to wander by (I'm looking at you, Meryl), but I'll generally take some time out for the common man.  Occasionally grace you with my appearance to your social functions.

And although this may seem the bare minimum of human interaction, it's a far cry better than I used to be.  When I lived by myself, I was a hobbit.  I would spend every night, week or weekend, sat in my dank disgusting little house, watching television and numbing myself with a number of substances.  I was a social leper.  Self-inflicted.

Because I did have friends, I did have people who tried to get me out of my house to interact with them.  I would always have a reason not to.  Always have some fabulous other made-up plans, or a mysterious illness that kept me from joining them.  I lost a lot of friends that way.  My isolation from society worked perfectly.  And it made me more depressed and alone and so began a vicious cycle that got to the point where my isolation was not so much self-inflicted.  People stopped calling, people stopped inviting, and people stopped caring.

And I let them because I was afraid to admit that I was sick, that I had a problem, that I was not perfect.  All they saw was a selfish bitch who obviously did not give two shits about them so why should they give two shits about me.

Touche.  Their hatred was well warranted.  Because they didn't know the truth, because I didn't let them.  Because I grew up thinking that the most important thing was to appear normal and perfect and anything less was a sign of weakness.

But here's the thing, and I hate the fact that it took me to 40 to realize it: appearing perfect ain't all it's cracked up to be.  In fact, generally speaking, people don't like people who appear to be perfect.  Because we are all, when it comes down to it, hot messes.  And there is so much freedom in finally being able to admit that.  And by not appearing to be perfect it's amazing how much you find that you can relate to other people.  And life is substantially less stressful.  And lonely.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

(I've finally perfected a Britpop station on Pandora!)

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.

Down the Rabbit Hole

Damn.  I really thought I was going to pass through this cold and flu system untouched, but I'm beginning to fear not.

Hopefully it's because my period is about to start, and possibly because I had to slice up a particularly strong-smelling onion for dinner, but I am sniffly, my eyes are burning, and I feel feverish.  And I've been dizzy all day which, as my mama always said, could be fluid in my head.  From the ick.

I have been downing Airborne and Zicam like a mofo but I think these pussy-assed homeopathic remedies have failed me.

Tonight I'm going hardcore: Nyquil, Advil night, Mucinex, gin, tonics, you name it, I'm downing it, and hoping to spend tomorrow in a coma drooling on myself in my comfy bed.  Hopefully alone.

No news to report, oh, other than almost losing the Nooge to the bowels of the house.  We were cleaning out the airfilters the other day, and we live in an older house, so the vents are basically just holes in the walls or floors covered by grates onto which thin filters are fitted, supposedly to keep out dust and other toxins, but I scarcely believe it because the three of us still walk around sneezing our heads off constantly.  Probably due to the lead pipes or asbestos, god knows.

Anyway, so the Rottenator and I had left our dining room for a split second, me to grab the dustbuster because I have become fanatical in my cleaning, and the Rottenator to...god knows, just wander off because God forbid he was having to do something that didn't involve the couch or video games, and when I returned to the dining room I was met by the vision of two orange furry feet and a big ass tail poking out of the hole.

That's right.  A headless cat.  A headless half-cat.  I did as any good mother would do when her baby was in danger: froze, panicked, and starting screaming hysterically for the Rottenator.

"He's in the floor!  Our baby is crawling underneath the house!"

The Rottenator responded as any good father would: "Well, get him!".  Actually, he was quite effective during this CATastrophe (ha!  yeah, I know, but I had to go there).  He bounded into the room, and in one quick scoop, grabbed two feet and a tail, and pulled the baby free.

The only thing I could have done to be a worse mother would have been to stop and take pictures, but that I did not do (again, not so quick with the action or the thinking in a time of crisis am I), so these images are as close I could find that would accurately describe the scene.

You get the idea.

But, crisis averted, and the Nooge is okay...for now...until he pisses me off.

My mood is not much better; tried to watch a movie with the Rottenator and he just "didn't get it".  Never does.  But he's trying.  Which makes me feel worse.

Definitely time for bed.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

I chose the video with the lyrics.  I find them quite apropos.

What Can I Say, Bitch Can Cook...And Clean

So, my traditional Southern New Year's Spread turned out to be a smashing success, if I do say so myself.

Ham, Hoppin' John (with black eyed peas and sausage), cornbread and collard greens.  Assured to bring good luck and wealth in the New Year.

It'd damn well better because I cooked and cleaned my ass off today.

I am the superstitious sort and so I succumb to the ritualistic portions of the holidays, in this case, being you should ingest some sort of greens and corn to ensure wealth (dollars and cents), the black eyed peas for luck, and the pork...well, everything tastes better with a little pork, doesn't it?  Though surprisingly, chicken isn't part of this holiday tradition.  I guess it's because fried chicken is part of every Sunday southern supper, so you switch it up with pork on special occasions to get all fancy.

No champagne toast, those are a thing of my past, but a day's worth of cleaning because this signifies a clean sweep of the year before and starting off the next one brand new, as it were.

And I vacuumed and swept and laundered my heart out today, which is why I am exhausted and it's only 6:30pm.

But I feel better looking at a clean house; in the past I never really understood the phrase "cluttered surroundings, cluttered mind" but it makes sense.  There's less stress when everything is neat and tidy.

So I enjoyed my mopped and swept floors for a few hours until the Rottenator and the Nooge awoke and then, inevitably, chaos and mess ensued.

The Rottenator spent the day watching football and playing video games.  I hope he's enjoying the last day of his vacation because I sure as hell am ready for him to go back to work.  It's frustrating when his version of a vacation is exactly that: not doing a damn thing.  Literally.  On my few and far between days off there seems like there's always something to do: cleaning, grocery shopping, there's always something.  Must be nice to have someone else worry about those things so you are free to sit on your lazy ass all day playing with yourself and your controller.

A part of me is glad the holidays are over, a part of me is not.  Because now it's back to the same old mundane routine of work, cook, clean, sleep, and so forth.  Nothing really exciting to look forward to unless you count Harry Potter and Universal but September seems so far, far away.

But until then, there's only one thing left to do I guess.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Snooze Year's Eve

I worked all day, came home, made chicken pepperoni for the Rottenator, and checked up on Facebook to see all of the exciting plans that my friends and family had for the evening and realized: this is going to be my life.

For good or for bad, this is it.  I always get down after the holidays; this year is no different.  I'm still sitting her, less than an hour until 2013, hoping that something will happen.  The Rottenator will have tucked away a small surprise, gesture of love or affection, but as he stares transfixed at yet another football game, the likelihood of that happening lessens.

So tomorrow, I will get up, I will clean the house, make the traditional Southern Good Luck New Year meal of ham, collard greens (my first attempt at this hideous concoction), hoppin' john, and cornbread and go to sleep and prepare for another day of work.

Rinse and repeat.

This year, I am sober, relatively healthy, relatively comfortable, and still filled with an unshakable, nagging depression that just won't go away.

I hope it is the holiday blues, and I truly hope that this New Year brings everyone health, happiness, love and life.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

So...very...tired...

I have a lot to say and not a lot of energy to say it.

I am exhausted.   From work, which has kicked into overdrive, and from my own explicable depression during one of my (normally) favorite times of the year.

Yes, I've seen the lights...pictures to follow...if I feel up to it...

And adored them.  But God bless him, though the Rottenator has tried very hard to participate in my (admittedly) insane over-enjoyment of this holiday season, it's just not in him.

He doesn't get it.  He doesn't get Christmas at all.  It does not excite him, enthuse him, or bring him one iota of joy.  At all.  And this kills me.  I just...don't...get it.

I mean, I understand it to a certain extent.  He does not have the happy memories of Christmas and presents and family and presents and Santa and presents and trees and lights and presents that I have.  His memories are unpleasant and heart breaking, and I'm not going to get into all of that here, but I did think that this year, a year that we're doing relatively well financially, one that he participated in at least one holiday family gathering, that he might just show a little more interest in all of the spectacle and pageantry.

But no.  And I don't blame him, I can't blame him, but it doesn't stop me from wanting him to be a different person this time of year.  One that can share in my joy of watching the Grinch, or laugh over Christmas vacation, or cry over the Little Drummer Boy.

The Rottenator is the Grinch.  The Rottenator is Frank Cross.

By the way, Scrooged pretty much tops my list of favorite holiday movies. 

Followed closely by this one; it's a pretty long scene, but go ahead and fast forward to about
1:45 into it.  Oh, it's the best line ever.

Sorry, where was I?  Oh yes, my holiday depression over my job and the Rottenator's lack of Christmas cheer.  Eh, screw it.  I just cheered myself up a bit by watching the clips above so I'm going to quit moaning and bitching and just randomly list some things that are going on with  me right now.

• My job doesn't quite suck but it is mentally draining.  And I'm angry and bitter over the fact that we're working mandatory overtime, we are not getting the free lunches that were promised (unless you count a mini-snickers and a single serving bag of Doritos lunch) and the Rottenator (the boy who hated Christmas) is getting two weeks off from his job.  Life isn't fucking fair.
• The Nooge systematically destroyed all of my Christmas decorations and the Rottenator wouldn't help me hang lights so I ripped down everything, threw the crumpled fake tree into our spare bedroom and dramatically proclaimed this domicile as the "House that Santa Forgot!"
• I picked out my own Christmas present today.  I bought myself a lovely 10 piece set of Better Homes and Gardens pots and pans. I was very generous with myself, and really, I am the best gift giver ever.
• I discovered that using a brush to apply foundation is AMAZING and I am both angry and amazed I have never tried this before.
• I bought myself new makeup brushes and foundation for Christmas.  Do go on, Kathleen, you are far too generous and kind for words.
• I am wrapping everyone's gifts in left-over birthday wrapping paper.  They shall look crappy and not at all festive.  Hell, even if they were wrapped in swaddling clothes like baby Jebus they would still look craptacular.  I am not a good present wrapper.  It's the thought and the gift inside of the box that counts.
•  I have an amazing idea for a new book, as well as a New Year's Resolution I will surely keep.  The title is tentatively called "365 Milkshakes in 365 Days".  I will begin on 01/01/13 and will do a taste test of a different flavor of a milkshake from various establishments and review them all.  This will also set me up for my 2014 New Year's Resolution tentatively called "My Milkshake No Longer Brings All the Boys to the Yard or How I lost 365 pounds in 365 days".

Both ideas are copyrighted, natch.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Mental Block

Remember not too long ago when I was complaining about NOT having a job and having no $?

Well, now I have a job and we have a bit of $ and now I'm complaining about my job, and my weight and my lack of motivation to clean my house so seriously, when am I going to stop whining and complaining and start counting my blessings?

Not today, kiddo, I can promise you that.

This job, OH-EMM-GEE, this job.  Well, not this job as much as this fucking whoremouth passive aggressive bitch from hell instructor I have who doesn't know her ass from a hole in the wall and treats a group of fairly intelligent women like children is driving me batshit crazy.

Completely.  She's awful, GOD awful, I couldn't stress that more.  But I'll sure as hell try.  Let me just say this much: Meryl is consistently making top scores in the class and SHE is going to her manager complaining about this woman.  'Nuff said.

The part I hate the most is that she makes me feel stupid and incompetent.  Not only is she not teaching us the important tools we need to be successful at our jobs, she is teaching us INCORRECT information.  She's twisted and dangerous and not in a fun, exciting way.

I shouldn't let it affect me like it does, but I can't help it.  I don't like feeling stupid, or having people treat me condescendingly.  I'm used to being the condescending, smart one.  So I guess this is karmic payback.

Well, enough already.  Of the karmic payback, that is.  October 1st.  10/1/12 is freedom; we move onto the next phase and have a new instructor.  And I can't fucking wait.  Maybe I'll have the motivation to clean my house by then.  Wouldn't it be nice if the Rottenator would do it for me?

Smiling is a sign of weakness

Doesn't that look like an enthused, strapping young man capable of washing a dish or changing a light bulb or, god forbid, scrubbing a toilet just ONCE? 

I guess not.  That's the face of a weak-stomached individual who got nauseated at the sight of the green goo coming out of a Cadbury's Screme Egg and couldn't finish it after one bite.

I ate two!

His loss, btw.  These things are delicious; another sign that Fall is coming, and not soon enough.  The weather is also getting cooler, which I'm enjoying.

So what am I complaining about anyway?  Not anything of importance, obviously.  But still I do.

Stupid birthdays.

Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Magnetic Personality - the video edition

Thanks to the Bloggess, I was introduced to the music of this chick who wrote this exquisite song.

Amanda Palmer is fucking brilliant. The above video led me to this one:

which I love for obvious reasons (Owaysis Roolz!)

Her style reminded me of this band:

And this band:

And this song:

And it made me miss my old/young self even more.