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...

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:

Oh Canada!

I have to say I am fascinated by this entire story:

Because, and I do apologize ahead of time to my Canadian readers (Birdie, I'm SO sorry), but seriously: Canadians:  you're kinda like us!

At least, some of your politicians are.

And I think that ours may just have better representation.

You can read the whole ongoing saga here. 

I am not political, but sometimes I have to say, I do get a bit tired of hearing about how America is a cesspool of violence and corruption when it seems that other countries maybe, just maybe, might be experiencing similar issues?

Another case in point from another country that quite frankly, I adore:

This happened in England.  And it is indeed horrific.

Evil is evil.  And it happens everywhere.

Meanwhile, circling back to me.  I think I failed the first half of my stupid "keep your job" test.  Whatever.  I am in a funk right now that I'm desperately trying to climb out of, so it's just another disappointment.

Blah.  To end on a happy note, did you know that "cat bearding" was a thing?  It's so adorable.

 I want to try it out with the Nooge.  Hopefully soon I'll have a successful pic with minimal damage.

In the meantime, 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:

I Don't Get It...

I mean, I get the controversy, okay, whatever, there's always controversy, but the ad in itself:

Maybe because I didn't see the concept from the very beginning, but still and all...I don't get it.

I'm normally not an easily offended person, but I find this ad disturbing....highly disturbing and not at all humorous...but perhaps it's because it's advertising a soft drink that I find offensive in itself.

And speaking of offensive...

The Rottenator and I are quarreling because I desperately need new summer clothes and his laughably $40 budget for a new wardrobe just wasn't going to cut it, so when he saw my $75 Wal-Mart order of, check it, 3 skirts, and 2 shirts, he had issues.

Just wait until he finds out I'm not even done yet.  AND the fact that I'm even buying clothes from Wal-Mart sends me into all sorts of conflicting levels of rage.  I hate this store and everything it stands for on so many levels.  I don't even want to talk about it.

OH, and so my sister and brother-in-law are down at my mother's beach house this weekend, and my brother-in-law (God Bless him) took it upon himself to put together some of the beach furniture that the Rottenator & I couldn't get done in one weekend.

My thoughts: that is freakin' awesome, less work for us, yay!  The Rottenator's thoughts:

"So...even though I didn't want to do it, I would have done it, but now it's been done, and so now I look like I'm not handy,and I never claimed to be handy around the house so I use that as an excuse to not pick up pine-cones in the yard or properly replace glass panels in our kitchen windows that our stupid cat knocked out on his quest to escape this torture chamber and attack every living creature that existed on this planet."

I have my own low self-esteem to deal with without coddling the ego of an almost 30 year old man.  My immediate reaction: "Stop being so defensive and suck it the fuck up and start performing manly duties around the house so you don't look like such a pussy when your 'woman' is actually the handy-man in the relationship."

You should be fucking embarrassed.  Man the Fuck Up.  And don't give me your arguments about sexism, or anything like that.  If I'm the one who is cleaning and cooking and making the house look pretty, your ass better be the one changing lightbulbs and checking the air pressure on car tires.

I'm just saying...

The Alabama duct tape is not a "nailed it" situation, let's go ahead and get this taken care of, mmmkay?  Because I'm two seconds away from calling a professional handyman to take care of all of the little chores around this house, male ego be damned!

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

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:

Do not go gentle into that good night...

And I don't plan to, motherfucker.  Oh my god, I'm old.  I'm so old, I'm like, "what the fuck, you're over 40?" old.

No, I'm sorry.  I am not embracing the whole "grow old gracefully" theory.  I hate it.  I hate every wrinkle, every thinning and gray hair, every fat dimple on my body.

What brought this on is that one of my acquaintances in my former life in Atlanta just posted about how she turned 50...

.http://www.atlantamagazine.com/hollisgillespie/2013/02/01/scene-stealers

(BTW, I love her, she is hilarious, and you should check her out...)

But still...she just turned 50.  I don't know why this struck me harder than seeing Facebook pictures of my college friends sporting gray hair and having 20 year old kids, but it did.

Maybe because she's always been a role model of mine: slightly older, always glamorous, witty, and smart, and she's accomplished what I always wanted to in life...she's being paid for her wit and humor and writing ability and is still fashionable and beautiful and stylish.

As she well deserves, because from knowing her in the "old days", she's been through her struggles as well.  And she had the guts to hang in there through the struggles, and continue with what she was passionate about and is finally successful at doing something she loves.  Writing...for a living...successfully.

I wish in my younger years I'd been more self-confident, with a higher self-esteem, and the courage to just go for it.  But I didn't.

And so now I'm here...not a terrible life, but not a spectacular one either.

Incidentally, have you ever seen the movie "Defending Your Life"?  Because it is my favorite movie of all times and pretty much sums up how I feel about my existence on this earth.

Albert Brooks...you are the only one who gets me.

Guilty Pleasures..The Video Version...

So, because I'm bored and self-involved, and I have the day off tomorrow (this time, an "approved" day off, Mother), I've decided the best use of my time (instead of vacuuming up dustbunnies, natch) is to come up with a list of my guilty pleasures...and also because I'd like to see if other people might share their own.

In no particular order:

1. Moonshiners.

I kinda have a crush on Tickle: "The cause and the remedy was one in the same."

2.  The Vampire Diaries.

I kinda have a crush on Ian Sommerhalder...well, not the actor so much as the character.

3. Cheesy/Inappropriate Christmas songs.

The last one is my absolute fave.

4.  Pit Boss.

5. Say Yes To The Dress...Atlanta

6. My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding

Literally live right down the street from me.

7.  Velveeta and Cream of Whatever Soup.

Beef Stroganoff with Velveeta cheese...and this is why I'm fat.

8.  Will Farrell and Vince Vaughn

 

9.  Psychics.

                                                                                      
 

I just feel if they make people feel better...they can't be all wrong...right?

10.  Pinterest. 

The best thing I can say about this is...it's cured my fascination with Facebook.

Discuss...

                                                                       

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:

Lazy...so lazy...

So, I have stuffis to do but I am not feeling up to it.

I have to get my nails did, these claws are out of control; I have to clean my bathroom, I have to make dinner, but fuck it...I don't feel like it.

Sad, old ass hand

What I feel like doing is watching old (old meaning 80s and 90s) movies on Netflix and sitting here like a blob.  So I shall.

Even God rested on the 7th day, right?

The Rottenator and the Nooge are both asleep, so I am going to sit on my ass and enjoy the relative peace and quiet...until work tomorrow.  *sigh*

I just want to say that although I an grateful for the opportunity and the paycheck, I am just about over this job.

I was not meant for payroll and they have just restructured my department so now instead of just reporting to one manager, I have to answer to five.  Seriously, five.  No more hiding under the radar for me.  It's fine, I'm going to put in my time and maybe move onto something more rewarding.

First world problems, right? I know. I get it.  But still, I can't help wondering if I was meant for something better in this world.

I need to find my purpose.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Fatty McFatikins

It always makes me sad when people I used to admire make fun of people I currently admire.

Case # 1: Joan Rivers:

I used to think this woman was funny, amusing, the precursor to the lovely Kathy Griffin.  But then she crossed the line.  She made fun of Adele.

A woman who has gone through so much plastic surgery that she resembles more of a puppet than a real human being makes fun of a beautiful, talented, charismatic woman with a god-given ethereal voice?

Why yes, she did.

And so did Case # 2 Seth McFarlane...during the Oscars ceremony, in fact, when Adele was sitting RIGHT THERE.

And although I regret I cannot find a film clip of it, he said, and I quote:

"Rex Reed will be out here to review Adele's performance of 'Skyfall"

Which was referencing this film review that Rex Reed did of Melissa McCarthy.  Obviously, I was not the only one who caught this.

 Seriously, I am so tired of this perception that society has as "fat" people and how they are unacceptable.  Do you see the picture above?  Is that not a gorgeous woman?

It also makes me think of Delta Burke, another gorgeous woman who was constantly ridiculed because of her size.

And Kirstie Alley.

And even Marilyn.

It's an old and tired topic to be sure, but one that I am still affected by, being an overweight gal myself.

I have been overweight all of my life; in fact, in 2001, I had gastric bypass surgery to help me overcome this. It didn't work.  I'm still fat.

I am 41 years old, 5'1", 163 pounds (on a good day), and  full of flab and self-loathing because I feel that I look like this:

When in my mind I should look like this:

And the most frustrating part is that as much as I tell myself that I want to be thin and in-shape for health reasons,  I'm still trapped by that ideal image of a beautiful, wrinkle-free 25 year old that I aspire to be.

And why the age of 25 is stuck in my head as the ideal age is a mystery to me; obviously something for the therapist's couch.

I think my recent overdose of "Scrubs" and "Freaks And Geeks" has affected 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: