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...

Did You Ever Know You're My Hero?

It's kind of weird when you are a woman and you realize that you are not necessarily equipt with those natural instincts to procreate and mother young offspring; in fact, you realize that you are more like a panda mom, or an elephant mom who tries to stomp your children to death in order to avoid taking care of them.

My sister is amazemballs and I love her children to death, and when I am privileged to observe what she has to deal with on a daily basis...I am completely in awe.

I don't know where the mominator instinct bypassed me, but it did.  Hell, I can barely deal with a moody cat, but I visit my sister and watch her handle three headstrong (albeit hilariously intelligent) children with utmost patience and understanding, and I am completely impressed.

She is patiently answering questions about the same subject over and over again, and tending tantrums and minor injuries with seemingly effortlessness while I am in the background arguing with my nearly 8 year old niece about how she's going to ruin my one umbrella, my ONE umbrella, and you have it on the grass, and now it's half damaged, and I don't care if your birthday is two weeks after mine, it's my birthday this weekend, and give me my umbrella and stop breaking stuff already!

God, you would think I was an only child, and I know that you are already thinking the same thing: thank GOD she has not procreated.

I am an awesome aunt, however.  I'll give myself that.  There is nothing better than little kids that just love you for you and are so excited to see you when you come to visit.  And I will volunteer to babysit them anytime, anywhere, because we always have hilarious adventures together.

And I will always make sure that I'm the one that they can call when they need bail money. All I ask for is a group hug at the end of it like the one I got this weekend.

My sister made sure I had an awesome birthday, full of Crimson Tide and Hello Kitty and pickle dip and pee wee football (those parents are kray kray!) and it was exactly what I needed.  Turning 24 (ahem) has never felt so awesome. 

Especially the purple Hello Kitty purse...don't hate.

Two (TWO!) Mood Ring(tones) of the Day:

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:

Dysplasia...Leukoplakia....say what?

That's the first thing I thought about when the doctor handed me a pamphlet with the word "Dysplasia" at the top of it...

Yes, my first thoughts were of a much beloved and underrated movie from 1986 called Lucas wherein I was first introduced to the term " Leukoplakia".

Why, I don't know; just one of those things.

Sooo...had my Colpol today and needless to say, the doc was not satisfied with the results.  So after much scraping, and sample taking and pamphlet giving, looks like I may have to have a minor surgery called a "LEEP"  .  We'll find out for sure on Friday...possibly Monday or Tuesday of next week, but in the meantime, I am going to milk this possible cancer thing because it is my birthday weekend, and if there is any way that I can feel more special, I'm going to exploit it.

With things like this:

http://www.pinterest.com/pin/122371314848308086/

 

 

Does that not look like the most delicious thing ever?  I have demanded it of my sister....because I can... because possible cancer.  Don't hate, I'm taking it easy on her, I could have demanded this!

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/gale-gand/croquembouche-recipe/index.html

 

 

 

 

But I didn't because she is a mother and does have a life and doesn't have multi-hours to spend on creating a spectacular dessert...besides, if she mastered this before I did, I could never live with myself.

And now off to sleep to prepare for another day at work....even though....screw you work I possibly have cancer!

Anyway, for whatever reason these two Dwight Yoakam songs have been in my head...don't know why...perhaps it's the cancer....

 

I've Got a Feeling...Maybe I'm Not Perfect

Have you ever had that moment?  Where someone totally called you out on your bullshit? And you realized they were the one? Even though you'd been together for four years, you were still unsure and suspicious and never fully trusted them, but then...they totally have your number.

I hate that, too.  Why do you not recognize me as the perfect goddess I am; why do you point out my weaknesses? Because, ideally, I have none.

And you love me anyway.  Damn you, Rottenator.

Meanwhile, I went to DragonCon and all I got was this single lousy picture:

And this, I didn't even take it; it is courtesy of my sister, who illegally snuck a pic (allegedly) when Spike was not paying attention.

So, this is my only pic, and as you can tell by the date on my sister's blog, it may be a while before I have anymore, but trust that fun was had by all.

In fact, we had a really good time even though the crowds were maddening. I forgot how much I hated crowds, even if they were all sci-fi geeks, and very polite, I'm just old and can't do it anymore.  I was near panic attack mode, but it all ended up well thanks to one of my college friends who showed us around because he is an expert at these things.

The one on the right, we love him!

 I'm not saying I'd do this again, even though it was kind of funny; the Rottenator would have hated the crowds but Alabama was playing their opening season game the same weekend in Atlanta so there was an immersion of my two worlds; nothing made me happier than watching Alabama football fans clapping at Daleks.   Just sayin'...

Oh, did I mention that I passed my work test so now I have semi job security? What what?!?!?  Yes, this is a huge relief; I've actually mellowed out a little bit about life whereas the Rottenator has gotten more intense.  I was hoping that college football season would ease some of his depression, but not so much so far...maybe when they beat Texas A&M he'll feel better.  Plus, he's turning 30 this year which can't be easy; I vaguely remember it myself...although 40 was harder than 30...and now every birthday is just another excuse to eat cake and ice cream and possibly get some flowers.

Getting old is weird. Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

*Incidentally, this is the song that my sister and brother in law walked down the isle to when they got married...because they are fabulous...

Geekology

So, a week from today, I will be amongst my peeps, for it is the weekend of DragonCon, and I am so looking forward to it (even though it means I will miss the opening game of college football, Alabama vs VA Tech, we have that shit handled, so don't give me a guilt trip about not watching it with you, Rottenator, Roll Tide..etc).

And here's the question, which I ask of all Dr. Who fans: how do you get past it? That your favorite actor has been replaced? Oh, don't get me wrong, the concept as far as network television goes, it's brilliant.  You can replace a lead actor at any time if they get out of line, or are feeling ornery, or wanting to bounce, or whatever,  you just boom! Regenerate and then you're on to the next one.

But for the fans...devastating. Let me explain:  David Tennant is my favorite Dr. Who, but when Christopher Eccelston regenerated into him....

A part of me died.  Just saying.

Though it wasn't as devastating as this:

Moving on, I've combined two posts into one because they do seem to connect somehow and have the same meaning, and are funnily enough, all Dr. Who related...did I mention that I'm looking forward to next weekend?  Not only do I get to hang out with my sis and favorite nephew, but we all get to embrace our inner geek, yay!

So, work crap:

What you may see in front of you is a mild-mannered nearly 42 year old who doesn't speak much....inserts her opinion every once in a while when a comment is deserved,  but other than that, sits quietly at her desk doing her job.  But inside....sometimes....she still rages....raging on against the dying of the light.

Funnily enough, Stephen Colbert inspired this part of the post.

http://popwatch.ew.com/2013/08/07/stephen-colbert-daft-punk-get-lucky-dancing-video/

And it was also spurred on by everyone in my team talking about past indiscretions, and my need to feel a part of the group and join in the conversation, because it's funny, these people don't know me like that.
 

Their perception: middle aged woman who doesn't know shit about what the issues that the "young kids" are dealing with nowadays.

Side note and mental check:  most of my team are in their late 20's, and/or early 30's so you're not exactly children. You're not in college anymore people, and you're not that different from me, sorry to break it to you.

BTW: think I passed the second part of my "hey, you're gonna get fired if you don't know the answers to these questions that have absolutely nothing to do with your job."

I'm in the payroll industry, btw...I hate math, and I was a journalism major in college. Life is a helluva thing. For someone who racked up thousands of dollars of debt...to have a job in payroll...without getting into details, check your paystubs, people.  And check them carefully...oh, and pay your taxes.  Because if you don't it will come back to bite you in the ass with a vengeance. 

My outfit for DragonCon:

With this button:

My sister's outfit:

She is either awsesomesauce or a heifer for showing everyone else out...I haven't decided yet...


 

Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

PS: Jude, you are awesome!

Best Exchange I've Had All Week:

With My Aunt (Awnt, not Ant) Bettie, who is nearing (if not already) 70, but a proper Southern lady would never reveal her age:

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?)

A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma...

So no pie pictures because I could not find one that was pretty enough, but the Mominator declared it a success so I will share this recipe with you:  btw, it's way easy if you follow this recipe and use a prepared pie crust...and Reddi-whip.  I guess you could use Cool Whip, but what's the fun in that? It doesn't even come in a can that you can squirt directly into your mouth.  Much like Cheese Whiz...which I am also not embarrassed to admit that I find delicious...straight out of the can.

So, in other news, we're getting a new TV:

50"; the Rottenator is happy, he has been wanting one forever.  I am happy because now I will be able to record and watch all of my television programs at will while SOMEONE is distracted by their Xbox games.

I will never have to miss an episode of Top Chef again.  This is awesome.

And I'm also exploring the Wellbutrin thing; just something to take the edge off.  And I don't mean to sound arrogant or anything like that, but let's just say that I find it very interesting that most of the most brilliant and intelligent people I know are all on something "to take the edge off".

I think we think too much.

Why can't we all be like Homer Simpson?

Anyway, nothing else to report on this front other than I have one more day of sitting on my ass that I'm going to take complete advantage of.  Guilt free, no less, because the house is clean clean clean!

AND no work tomorrow means I have extra time to share more than one Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Yeah...I'm kinda all over the place tonight.

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:

We Are More Beautiful Than We Think...

I don't care if the basic idea of this project was to sell a product, this is one of the most amazeballs marketing campaigns I have ever seen, and I think that all women should have some sort of evaluation of themselves done by someone other than themselves.

Because we are our own worst critics.

And we are all beautiful.  It stuns me that we can see the beauty in other people that we love:  we can overlook the receding hairlines, the pot-bellies,the gray hairs, the wrinkles, the pimples, the saggy skin of our loved ones, but then we look in the mirror, and that's all we see in ourselves.

I am my own worst critic.  But I can honestly tell you that every person that I love in my life, I find beautiful and I don't even think about the other very superficial things that I hate about myself when I see them.

And not to exclude anyone, but we chubby girls are the WORST when it comes to that. Not that I blame us completely; society has always told us that we are ugly, that we deserve less, that we are the lowest of the low.  And we bought into that.  And walk around with our heads hung low, shoulders hunched over, trying to not be noticed.

Well, fuck that.  I'm not saying that I'm going out and buying a tube top and a mini-skirt tomorrow, but at the very least, I am going to go out and feel okay about my gray roots and my flabby thighs and drooping boobs.

And I just may put a bejeweled crown on my head and a blingy Hello Kitty necklace around my neck because why the hell not. I've earned it.

My Mood Ring(tones) Of The Day:

My Magical Crockpot of Deliciousness: Beef Stew

The Rottenator does love his stew.  And I welcomed the opportunity to cook something other than Hamburger Helper or Beans and Rice so today's meal of Beef Stew was a happy change of pace.

Behold...

My apologies to Riot Kitty; this one ain't for you ;-)


What you'll need:

2 lbs of stew meat
1 lb red potatoes, cubed, skins on
2 celery hearts, roughly chopped
1 large sweet onion, roughly chopped
1 pt cherry tomatoes, sliced
1 pkg baby carrots, pre-washed and peeled
1 envelope Lipton's Onion Soup mix
1 can cream of mushroom and roasted garlic soup
2 T. flour
2 T. olive oil
1/4 c. Worcestershire sauce
1/4 c. Dale's steak sauce
Seasonings to taste (I'm not giving measurements, because we are a family that loves salt, but really between the soup mix, sauces, and soup you really don't need anymore...but you can't be Southern and not add some Lawry's...)
salt
pepper
garlic powder
non-stick cooking spray (like Pam)

Heat 2 T. olive oil in a pan; sprinkle flour, Lawry's seasoned salt, pepper, and garlic powder over stew meat and toss to coat.

Lightly brown stew meat in pan for seriously, 2-3 min, just enough to seal in those delicious juices.

Spray crockpot with non-stick cooking spray, and throw that stew beef in there.

Chop veggies and throw them all in a big tupperware bowl, lightly salt and pepper and stir to mix them all up.  Or pop a top on that bowl and turn it upside down and shake until they're all mixed up and pretty.

In another bowl, pour in worchestershire sauce and Dale's; add soup mix and whisk together.  Next, add can of soup, whisk some more until it's smooth.

Throw half of the veggies into the crockpot on top of the stew meat.  Add half of your soupy mixture.

Throw the remaining half of veggies into the crockpot, and the rest of the soup sludge.

Top on top of crockpot, cook 6-8 hours, depending on your crockpot.  This is my first time trying out my sister's hand-me-down crockpot and she says it's a fast-cooking one, so I'm going for six. It actually took about 8 hours for the potatoes and carrots to get completely done...

Now, a lot of people love crockpots because you can just leave it.  I like to check on it every two hours and give it another stir, but that's me.  And that's why this meal is best made on a weekend.

Back to work tomorrow, blech!  But it's a paycheck that brings me that much closer to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter so I will endure...

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day...and this one is dedicated to Riot Kitty because she recently reminded me of one of my favorite movies, and what it is like to grow old gracefully and fabulously.

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.

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:

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:

Born In The Wrong Country...

I am British at heart.  Always have been. I don't know where I get it from, really, probably from my dad, but I have always been drawn to the culture across the pond, as it were.

My Dad was an Anglophile as well.  I was first introduced to Dr. Who via PBS when I was a mere babe.

Tom Baker was my first Doctor.

Though David Tennant is my favorite.

Benny Hill was my first introduction to British comedy (although I still don't get the appeal; too slapstick for me, but so are the Three Stooges, which my Dad also loved, so there you go.  Male humor at it's worst).

But then came MTV...and the Young Ones...

And Billy Idol...

And Sting and the Police...

And then...Oasis and Britpop happened...

Oh my God did I love Liam Gallagher.  I mean, yes, Sting was my celebrity crush for many years, but Liam was the shiz-zit.

By the time I happened upon Liam, I was a professional celebrity stalker and one of the proudest moments of my life was tracking him down in NYC at his favorite hangout, the Irish Pub, and approaching him whilst he was singing along with his own music on the jukebox.  I told him how awesome he was and gave him an uncrumpled American dollar so he could play more of his own songs just to watch him enjoy himself.

He was very sweet and Mancunian mumbly. I was very Southern and nervous so unfortunately, it did not work out for us. Such is life.

I think Britpop is the music that will always define my life.  I think we all have those moments in time that we hold onto; probably when we were in our "prime"; for me, it was the early to mid 20s.  When I still had hopes and dreams and thought I was going to be something special.

Not a middle-aged woman working in payroll.

Whatever.  Life is full of twists and turns and I wonder how many of us turn out the way we think we would.  I guess I will never be the celebrated writer-slash-amazeballs-chef living in New York City married to a British rockstar, but still...maybe in the next life time.

Meanwhile, I shall leave you with my four most favorite British Ring(tones) Of the Day...my only regret is that I never saw all four out of four live in concert.

Jarvis Cocker, you owe me one.

Random...

Don't know why, but was just thinking about the movie "Slum Dog Millionaire" tonight and how much I really loved it.

And this always puts me in a good mood...

And this is one of my all time favorite songs...

I personally love MIA though she tends to be a divisive figure.  But she had me the moment she sported this awesome outfit:

Off to bed.  This Tuesday wasn't as bad as last Tuesday, but still and all...this is not the most favorite job I've ever had.

I think my Mood Ring(tone) Of the Day speaks for itself...

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:

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!)