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...

A Day In My Life

Even though my clients tend to be a little nicer, probably because I'm not so dim, and I will say: I had a client who said that ( company I work for) was determined to piss him off and he actually thanked me at the end of the call after I massaged his bruised ego.

Gyno procedure (officially called Colpol) is rescheduled for Tuesday because my god dang  body is not cooperating and after three months of no period, suddenly I have a never ending one.

Other than that: no news.  Watching college football.  Roll Tide. But sometimes no news is good news.  Oh, the Rottenator and I did visit a new restaurant in a premature celebration of my birthday last night and he ordered a Bento box:

As I ordered the Green Curry Chicken and let's just say: he downed a lot of wasabi and my heart grew just a little bit bigger that day.

Other than that, my stupid female parts are not cooperating with my gyno's schedule so I have had to move my appointment three times: here's hoping that Tuesday is the charm.

I leave you now with a most excellent and unhealthy recipe that went over quite well for our Gameday celebration; it is so simple, and so delicious and decadently unhealthy:

Ingredients:
16 ounce box Velveeta cheese
1 cups milk
2 teaspoons paprika
1/2 tsp ground cayenne pepper
15 ounce can Hormel Chili (No Beans)
4 teaspoons chili powder
1 Tablespoon Lime Juice
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1. Cut the velveeta into cubes

2. Combine the cheese with remaining ingredients in medium saucepan over medium heat.

3. Stir Frequently until the cheese melts.  

4. Enjoy with tortilla chips!

 

 

When Worlds Collide...

Rottenator: I can't believe you're missing the first day of football because of a stupid convention.

Me: It's not a stupid convention; it's DragonCon; it's a chance for me to reconnect with my peeps and indulge my inner geek.

Rottenator: I can't believe (bro-in-law) is going; he's going to miss his first game of the season too. Against Clemson...pretty important.

Me: He's not missing it; he's ditching us for the night so he can watch his game.

Rottenator: Don't blame him; probably he wouldn't be going at all if (nephew) didn't want to go; otherwise, he'd let you two nerds (me, and sis) fend for yourselves.

Me:  Touché...asshole...

DRAGONCON!

My Mood(Ring) Tone of the Day:

I'm feeling very British and literary today...

My, but we are a persnickety bunch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I finally understand my sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Well, that went well

So, Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I have to say...it went better than expected.

Not that the Rottenator wasn't horrible.  Lemme tell you, that one was trying to get out of going to my fam's house until the very second we were in the driveway and he was pouting: "You don't care, you don't care, I don't want to do this and you just don't care!"

Well, it's too late now, buddy, get out of the fucking car.

And though he would never admit it, he actually had (dare I say it) a good time.  At least a good time for him.

But the weeks leading up to it, his impending doom, were god awful.  He was like a petulant child, a loud bully, and a grumpy old man all balled into one.

I really wasn't sure if our relationship was going to handle it.  He did not understand how important him meeting my family was to me, and I had no idea of the sheer panic and terror coursing through his veins at the very thought of spending the day with a "bunch of strangers".

He honestly almost had a heart attack.  I have been known to suffer from a bit of social anxiety myself, but never had I witnessed someone about to have a full blown panic attack over the thought of, in my eyes, hanging out with people who are basically going to be a part of our lives for a long, long time.

Sickly green, clammy, sweaty, riding in silence, I was beginning to wonder if it was really worth it.  But I also knew that once he got there, it would be fine.  It would be good for him, and it was completely necessary if we were going to be together.

Melodramatic on both of our parts, I know.

But it was such a good time.  My sister and brother in law were the perfect hosts, and by the time the day was ending, there was smack talk about upcoming football games (thank God everyone's teams won), and the Rottenator was helping himself to food and walking around, and my niece, the 6 year old flirt, was flinging stuffed animals in his direction.

All signs of a successful gathering.  And the best part?  I didn't have to suffer any consequences!  In fact, I was told that even though it certainly wasn't going to be an every weekend kind of a thing, the Rottenator wouldn't be completely opposed to attending such an event again!  And no, I do not have any photographic evidence to prove that this momentous event actually happened, because I didn't want to push my luck, so you'll have to just take my word for it.

Needless to say, I am thrilled.  I can't promise a Christmas reunion this year, but the possibilities are endless.

Speaking of Christmas, what the fuck is this?

Sacrilegious, that's what it is.

Also speaking of Christmas, because of this:

We will not be having a tree this year.  Bummer.  I love a Christmas tree, but I also don't want to spend every second of every day keeping a certain someone from knocking it over or climbing up it.  So, plans are in the works to have a tree outside on our side porch.

In the meantime, I've got this on our front door:

And I've decorated every inch of our house with lights.  I took most of these pics in the dark, because the lights are so much glowier that way (except the first one, obvs...)

And now...to the worst part of the holiday season.

We ventured forth to the 9th circle of hell (aka Walmart) to witness the spectacle of Black Friday because the Rottenator had never witnessed it before.  As he watched with open-mouthed shock at the dregs of humanity that knocked each other over for $5 video games, I stood out of harms way and took horrified pictures.

This is the exact opposite of what I think the holiday season should be about.

See, I love Christmas.  The Rottenator does not understand this because he does not have happy memories of Christmas.  To me, Christmas is not just about giving gifts, or getting great bargains, or Santa, or Jesus, or the lack thereof.

I still hold onto the belief that Christmas is the time that we, as people, (in general), treat each other as we should treat each other every other day of the year.  Yes, I have worked retail during the holidays, and, yes I have been yelled at or cursed out because we didn't have the newest or hottest toy in stock at rock bottom prices for parents consumed with the obsession of fulfilling their little spoiled brat's every superficial dream.

But still I manage to hold onto the feeling that at Christmas: everything is beautiful and sparkly, and magical, and if it makes just one more person treat another a little better than they normally would on an average day, then it's worth it to celebrate.  No matter what religion you follow...or don't follow.

Cheesy?  Probably.  Sappy and sentimental, absolutely.  And I don't care.

I mean, seriously, watch this video and tell me you don't feel a little bit happier today.

My  Mood Ring(tones) of the Day:

And this.

Happy Christmas Month, mother fuckers!




 

So here's the thing...

Two more days of work this week and then I'm off for a lovely Thanksgiving holiday.  I'm really looking forward to it this year, possibly more so than Christmas even.  This probably has something to do with the fact that since my change of career, I won't get much time off for Christmas this year.  And by much, I mean barely any other than Christmas day.

However, I was lucky enough to score the Friday after Turkey Day off so not only am I looking forward to an extended weekend off, this year marks the first time that this guy...

will meet these people...

Needless to say, I am uber excited.  The Rottenator is less enthused.  I believe his comment was, and I quote, "I'd rather poke my eyes out with a dull butterknife."

He is not a social person.  Sociopath, maybe.  Sociable, no.  But it's high time he meet the fam.  I mean, it's pretty obvious he's not going anywhere any time soon and I am very close to my family, so he just needs to suck it up.

Besides, he's gonna be watching a day of college football with a fellow SEC enthusiast who has testicles, so that's gotta be fun, right?  Even though their two teams may just be playing each other for the championship game, but thank God, that's not until December, so that definitely lessens the possibility of smack talk that gets deadly serious.   And luckily we don't own guns. And the alcohol supply will be limited.

And there will be food.  Oh, yes, there will be.

Turkey
Ham
Mac and cheese
Mashed potatoes
Green bean casserole
Stuffing (or dressing, as the rednecks like to call it)
Cranberry Sauce
Cheesecake
Artichoke Dip
Little smokies in bbq sauce

And though the turkey may not be stuffed, I sure as hell will be.

I just hope it doesn't turn out like this.

But if it turned out like this, that would be pretty awesome.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day...

PS: the only version I could find of this was in Italian but if you've seen this movie as many times as I have, you'll know the English by heart.

The Curse

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gamecocks...not so much.

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

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

This is Marcus Lattimore.

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

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

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

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

Oh God.

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

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

Cocky!  Yes, that is his name

Hootie!  A proud USC alumnus

My hair is pulled back yet still frizzy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which why this jersey:

And tickets to this game this weekend:

are probably the best purchases of my life.

Other than this:

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

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

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

Just sayin'.

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


To recap:

New car...

New washer and dryer...

New accessories for the car...

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

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

I kid...kinda...

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

Rammer Jammer, WTF Alabammer?

Down here in the South, we love us some college football.  More specifically SEC college football.  Most specifically, Alabama Crimson Tide football...in this house at least.

A little background:  yes, I am a tried and true Southern girl, born and bred in the South.  However, up until the point that the Rottenator entered my life, I had never experienced the true obsession passion and undying love that Southerners have for this particular sport.  Football was never a priority in my house growing up.  Yes, I come from a family of college going individuals.  My father and maternal grandfather went to Clemson, my aunt worked for Vince Dooley when he was the athletic director at UGA, I myself attended that fine university, and my sister is a graduate of South Carolina.  So I am familiar with the concept of college football fans.

Yet I always managed to avoid it and them.  In fact, during my tenure at UGA, I actively disdained the sport.  I was what one might define as a goth chick for lack of a better word.  I was into the wearing of the all black, the listening to the britpop and the Smiths and the Cure; the Siouxie and the Banshees and whatnot.  I was alternative and cool.  I was from the original generation of over privileged, pampered, STFU we-know-a-pain-like-you-will-never-understand self righteous generation that did it first and did it better so take that, EMO kids. 

As I was saying, football was not a priority.  I refused to participate in the "Gooooo DAWGS! Sic 'em, WOOF WOOF WOOF!" chant at my orientation.  For those of you not familiar with this particular ritual, here is an example:

OMG, how my heart bled for those sycophantic uneducated sheep.  That was then, 20 years ago.

Now, I get honest to God shivers down my spine at the mere thought of either one of these two sounds:

(Sidebar: my sister feels much the same way at this point of a USC game when this is played; I have to admit, this is a pretty cool intro, too.  I'm actually looking forward to attending my first Carolina game this year):

So, what this boils down to is that yes, thanks to the Rottenator, I am a convert, and I "get it" when it comes to passion and excitement for this all consuming lifestyle hobby.

What I do not get so much is the fans.  The out of control, fucking crazy ass fans.  And every team has them, but I have to say, as much as it may anger the Rottenator, the Alabama fans are extreme.  Now, he will stick up for them, and to his point, there are the crazies here and there, but to my knowledge, none of them have actually gone to the extreme of poisoning the trees  or tea-bagging their rivals.

Now, in defense, everyone hates LSU.  I mean, EVERY fan of EVERY team in the SEC fucking hates the crazy Cajuns.  But still...this crosses the line.

However, now it's debate time.  Because the victim in this video has decided that the humiliation he endured was too much to bear and is suing the tea-bagger for sexual battery, and is seeking damages for pain and suffering and lost tuition because he had to drop out of school from damage to reputation, embarrassment, blah blah blah. Now, don't get me wrong: I am not downplaying the incident, and I do think it was completely out of order and out of line.  BUT I do have some points to make regarding the issue.

1. You, sir, are a dumbass, for passing out drunk in a Krystal's full of Alabama fans on Bourbon St. after they kicked your ass in the BCS championship game, where emotions were already running high because that game was payback time for a loss earlier in the season.
2. LSU fan, where are your friends who left you drunk, passed out, alone, and vulnerable?
3. Why are you suing Krystal? Last time I checked, their only crime was to serve delicious addicting chili cheese pups and fries.
4. Why aren't you suing the chicks who had their tits all over you?

Bottom line: Football fans are fucking nuts.  Roll Tide.  And screw you LSU.