Today my husband and I attended church, ate brunch with a friend, went to the mall, and then came home to putter around the house. Teenage me would bitch slap me for such a suburban cliche of a day, but I kind of liked it.
To be fair, "brunch" occurred at a Waffle House and "putter around the house" actually means "played Guitar Hero for four hours until I cooked dinner and we watched East Bound and Down".
So it could be worse.
Bonus "view of a marriage" conversation:
While we are playing Words with Friends against one another, in the same room:
Him: Did you like how I crushed you with that last word?
Me: You crushed me? You beat me by 5 points. How the hell did you crush me?
Him: Because I was saving it and you thought you were ahead and then I pulled it out in a last minute defeat.
Me: You didn't crush me. Crushing involves a larger point margin.
Him: I crushed you. I more than crushed you. I ripped your beating heart out of your chest and then I defecated in the bleeding hole. You will never recover.
Me:...It is nice to not always be the crazy one in this relationship.
Him: Crushed. You.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Sick Puppy
Sunny, the dog frequently referred to as "Bunny" in this house, because she is about as close as you can get to being a rabbit while actually being a dog, did something to her neck that is making my life miserable. She is on a muscle relaxant, a ridiculous dose of steroids, and a pain killer that could probably fell a moose. But that is probably a good thing, as she's not supposed to run, play, or jump. Unfortuantely, sometimes it makes her sleepy and sometimes it makes her sit rigidly straight, panting like a maniac, while her eyeballs roll around and she generally appears to be a complete psycho. Also, confession, we don't crate her and never have. I don't usually tell people that because they act like it's a major sin, but frankly she has always ALWAYS hated the crate. In fact, to say she hates the crate is a little like saying the Westboro Baptist Church isn't very fond of gay people. Which is to say, a giant understatement. She trembles violently and generally vomits any time you try to put her in the crate.
Anyway, this means I don't sleep because I have to stop her from jumping up or down on the bed (which is another way the medication sucks, because she has NO IDEA that she is supposed to feel bad). And of course, I keep trying to reason with her, by saying "Now, Bunny, you know you can't jump or play with Stormy, or run right now. I know that sucks but you have hurt yourself and have to lie still for Mama so you don't herniate a disc and require expensive surgery and/or become paralysed for life." And she looks back at me with her super dialated eyes, and basically says, "Dude. I understood the words Bunny, Stormy, and Mama. Because I'm a fucking dog. And also I am so high right now."
And then she jumps down from the couch or up onto the bed or whatever thing I am convinced will make her crippled forever. I managed to stop the running in the yard by making her harness, though. She used to have one and then Stormy ate it and it's a whole big thing and they always go out in the yard anyway so we never replaced it. Plus they require a PhD in mechanical engineering to actually get on the dog. So I made one out of an old pair of thong panties. Don't judge me. It makes an excellent harness. And I'm not going to actually WEAR them again. So shut your pie hole.
And we get to do this for a MONTH! Super yay!
Anyway, this means I don't sleep because I have to stop her from jumping up or down on the bed (which is another way the medication sucks, because she has NO IDEA that she is supposed to feel bad). And of course, I keep trying to reason with her, by saying "Now, Bunny, you know you can't jump or play with Stormy, or run right now. I know that sucks but you have hurt yourself and have to lie still for Mama so you don't herniate a disc and require expensive surgery and/or become paralysed for life." And she looks back at me with her super dialated eyes, and basically says, "Dude. I understood the words Bunny, Stormy, and Mama. Because I'm a fucking dog. And also I am so high right now."
And then she jumps down from the couch or up onto the bed or whatever thing I am convinced will make her crippled forever. I managed to stop the running in the yard by making her harness, though. She used to have one and then Stormy ate it and it's a whole big thing and they always go out in the yard anyway so we never replaced it. Plus they require a PhD in mechanical engineering to actually get on the dog. So I made one out of an old pair of thong panties. Don't judge me. It makes an excellent harness. And I'm not going to actually WEAR them again. So shut your pie hole.
And we get to do this for a MONTH! Super yay!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
2nd sick day in a row. It's like a vacation only with more vomit and trips to the bathroom.
Actually, it's fairly similar to my last vacation in Mexico. Except of course for the fact that I haven't thrown up in 10 years, and my whole streak is ruined. Wasn't there a t.v. show with an episode where one of the characters was vomit three since '03 or something? It was like that, except I was vomit free since like, 2001 or 2002. But that doesn't rhyme.
Um. Anyway. Very productive two days. I've watched about 7,000 episodes of Law and Order (SVU and Criminal Intent) because it's the perfect sick day show. It's oddly soothing, for all that it is about killers and rapists and whatnot. If you doze off in the middle of one episode, and wake up in the middle of another, it doesn't really matter. Also it's fun to play "Spot the Famous People". Every one who was ever in The Wire or Oz appears to have shown up in Law and Order at some point. Plus other people.
Truthfully, I like to watch Law and Order on the treadmill too. The storylines distract me from the discomfort while being predictable enough to let me know how much longer I have to go without watching the clock.
I...really have no idea why I'm babbling about this except that I must be on the mend, because yesterday I was not at all bored and today I'm starting to be a little bored with the laying around. Also, the dogs are totally over me. Yesterday they were all about taking care of me, and today they keep shoving me off the couch and stealing my pillow and my blanket. I'm going to go shove them around a little, so I can take my lunch nap.
Um. Anyway. Very productive two days. I've watched about 7,000 episodes of Law and Order (SVU and Criminal Intent) because it's the perfect sick day show. It's oddly soothing, for all that it is about killers and rapists and whatnot. If you doze off in the middle of one episode, and wake up in the middle of another, it doesn't really matter. Also it's fun to play "Spot the Famous People". Every one who was ever in The Wire or Oz appears to have shown up in Law and Order at some point. Plus other people.
Truthfully, I like to watch Law and Order on the treadmill too. The storylines distract me from the discomfort while being predictable enough to let me know how much longer I have to go without watching the clock.
I...really have no idea why I'm babbling about this except that I must be on the mend, because yesterday I was not at all bored and today I'm starting to be a little bored with the laying around. Also, the dogs are totally over me. Yesterday they were all about taking care of me, and today they keep shoving me off the couch and stealing my pillow and my blanket. I'm going to go shove them around a little, so I can take my lunch nap.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Bueller?
You know how you sometimes catch yourself thinking, wow, my life is really awesome? And then the next day all the little things start to pile up to the point that you wish you never got out of bed?
So have you ever had one of those days where you get up super early to get to a meeting that is supposed to be before 8:00 in a town about an hour away only to get there and discover that due to poor reading comprehension skills you are actually there 4 hours early? And then your mom calls, sobbing, to tell you that her boyfriend is moving out and that the way he told her was by...moving half his shit out while she was at work the night before? And then been on your way home when you realized you had a flat tire? So you stopped and after about 15 minutes it occurred to you that you could change the tire? And then you dig around in the trunk because the jack appears to be missing? So you have to rely on the two semi homeless looking dudes to change your tire for you? (In fairness, they change that tire with the ease and speed of a freaking NASCAR pitcrew). And then you get home and call your husband in the hopes that he will tell you it is totes okay to drive around on the spare tire indefinitely? But he tells you this is a bad idea so you have to go to the tire place and spend the rest of the afternoon you were supposed to have off because you got to work at 6:30 a.m.?
Anybody else? Or is that just me?
P.S. Still not pregnant.
So have you ever had one of those days where you get up super early to get to a meeting that is supposed to be before 8:00 in a town about an hour away only to get there and discover that due to poor reading comprehension skills you are actually there 4 hours early? And then your mom calls, sobbing, to tell you that her boyfriend is moving out and that the way he told her was by...moving half his shit out while she was at work the night before? And then been on your way home when you realized you had a flat tire? So you stopped and after about 15 minutes it occurred to you that you could change the tire? And then you dig around in the trunk because the jack appears to be missing? So you have to rely on the two semi homeless looking dudes to change your tire for you? (In fairness, they change that tire with the ease and speed of a freaking NASCAR pitcrew). And then you get home and call your husband in the hopes that he will tell you it is totes okay to drive around on the spare tire indefinitely? But he tells you this is a bad idea so you have to go to the tire place and spend the rest of the afternoon you were supposed to have off because you got to work at 6:30 a.m.?
Anybody else? Or is that just me?
P.S. Still not pregnant.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Edited: The I'm NOT PREGNANT Edition, which is what I should have called it in the first place, apparently.
Life changing things are possibly in the works. And are also possibly not happening, and I've already jinxed it enough by talking about it with a few select people, so...yeah, that's a sucky thing to do. Cool things may or may not be happening but I'm not going to tell you what they are. Which also implies that I think you care. Which, truthfully, I kind of do. Because one thing I have learned about myself: on the surface I have some issues with body image and whatnot, but underneath? In my deepest, truest self? There is nothing wrong with my self confidence level. I generally assume that people think I'm interesting, intelligent, and attractive. And I generally think those things about myself. And that's fine...except 1. I learned early that to fit in you have to pretend that you don't believe those things, and at some point when you are pretending, you maybe start to get a little confused and 2. just because those things are possibly true doesn't mean that everyone is always fascinated by every minute aspect of my life at all times. Sometimes my self confidence crosses over into a self centeredness so vast, it could cover the entire state of Arkansas. It's generally followed by a session of self disgust at my own vanity that probably balances everything out pretty nicely, though, so I got that going for me.
Anyway, my point, before I wandered off to chase butterflies in the woods, was that because of the maybe thing I have not really known what to talk about. Like, once I say I can't talk about one little (possibly life changing) thing, I get tongue tied (finger tied?) and I can't seem to talk about ANYTHING. So expect a lot of drivel until probably around the beginning of April, when the thing will either have happened or will not be happening at all. I can talk about it then. And I will. Ad nauseum. Till you are like, can you please shut up about the thing that totally didn't even happen?
In the interest of blog consistency: Razorbacks totally won the Cotton Bowl. Which was a much more interesting game than LSU/Alabama. We finally have 3 SEC teams in the top spots of the BCS and then LSU phones it in like a bunch of testicles. I am totally stealing from Betty White. When I want to call something weak, I'm calling it a testicle. It's a new year's resolution I'm pretty sure I can keep. Because she has a point: vaginas are fucking tough. I'm not saying whether the pun was intended there or not.
Speaking of resolutions, I don't really do the New Year's Resolution thing. Not because I am against them (Ells- I really liked your post about resolutions actually. When did it become such a mockable thing to want to make yourself better?) But I tend to make resolutions all year. Like, back in June I resolved to quit smoking cold turkey and I have not had a cigarette or any nicotine product for over 6 months. I resolved in November a few years ago to dig myself out of my debt-hole. That one is taking awhile, but is slowly becoming reality. I dug myself a pretty deep hole. Mostly by refusing to look at the hole. Seriously, I recommend everyone regularly add up exactly how much they actually owe. If you had asked me to guess, at the time, I would have told you a number fully 2/3 lower than the actual total. Like, the number it is now, I would have told you that's what I owed then. I also resolved to do regular nice things for other people. Success rate on that is debatable.
For instance, I totally went through the whole house and pulled out about 7 boxes worth of nice things to donate to a local homeless shelter. I set it out on the curb for pickup, and went back in the house. A short while later I was leaving to go run an errand and noticed that the pile was considerably smaller. Someone stopped at the curb, went through the boxes that were clearly labeled Little Rock Compassion Center, sorted out what they did not like, and took about 5.5 boxes worth. So when the charity showed up, I had one small pile to donate, and it was some random stranger's reject pile. My intentions were good, Charity Dude, I swear.
I also intended to anonymously send my oldest friend some cute things for her two daughters. Just a nice surprise post Christmas thing. There were fairy wings, and a wand, and some books, and some paints, and some play dough. I was really impressed with myself. She'll never know who it is from! Except I...put the return address on the box because I was listening to the radio and they were talking about letters and packages delivered like 30 years late. And I thought of like, undeliveravle mail purgatory, and put my return address on the box. So, she'll still get nice things but the anonymous part...I'm going to have to practice that part. And I hate that I messed that up, because I don't want it to be weird. Like now she's expected to do something for me. That wasn't the point, but that's kind of what happens when you give people gifts. They think they should do something for you. When the idea is to get them to do something nice for someone else entirely. Like this all started because someone raked our leaves for us. And I'd like to be a better person.
I did accomplish a few things successfully, but blogging them seems to defeat the purpose, which is just to do something nice. I only blogged the failures because I think it's sort of entertaining. Plus I think it reinforces my point about my inability to keep my giant yap shut about things.
Except the thing I'm not going to tell you about until the beginning of April.
EDIT: Bleh - I can't comment on my own blog. But in response to comments. DUDES. If it is what you guys think it is, I'm seriously gonna have to break up with my birth control. I better not be pregnant. Damn. Now, I gotta go pee on a damn stick. But seriously, I'm 100% sure that's not what I'm talking about, and also, I'm 99.999% sure I'm not pregnant. Sorry for the confusion.
Anyway, my point, before I wandered off to chase butterflies in the woods, was that because of the maybe thing I have not really known what to talk about. Like, once I say I can't talk about one little (possibly life changing) thing, I get tongue tied (finger tied?) and I can't seem to talk about ANYTHING. So expect a lot of drivel until probably around the beginning of April, when the thing will either have happened or will not be happening at all. I can talk about it then. And I will. Ad nauseum. Till you are like, can you please shut up about the thing that totally didn't even happen?
In the interest of blog consistency: Razorbacks totally won the Cotton Bowl. Which was a much more interesting game than LSU/Alabama. We finally have 3 SEC teams in the top spots of the BCS and then LSU phones it in like a bunch of testicles. I am totally stealing from Betty White. When I want to call something weak, I'm calling it a testicle. It's a new year's resolution I'm pretty sure I can keep. Because she has a point: vaginas are fucking tough. I'm not saying whether the pun was intended there or not.
Speaking of resolutions, I don't really do the New Year's Resolution thing. Not because I am against them (Ells- I really liked your post about resolutions actually. When did it become such a mockable thing to want to make yourself better?) But I tend to make resolutions all year. Like, back in June I resolved to quit smoking cold turkey and I have not had a cigarette or any nicotine product for over 6 months. I resolved in November a few years ago to dig myself out of my debt-hole. That one is taking awhile, but is slowly becoming reality. I dug myself a pretty deep hole. Mostly by refusing to look at the hole. Seriously, I recommend everyone regularly add up exactly how much they actually owe. If you had asked me to guess, at the time, I would have told you a number fully 2/3 lower than the actual total. Like, the number it is now, I would have told you that's what I owed then. I also resolved to do regular nice things for other people. Success rate on that is debatable.
For instance, I totally went through the whole house and pulled out about 7 boxes worth of nice things to donate to a local homeless shelter. I set it out on the curb for pickup, and went back in the house. A short while later I was leaving to go run an errand and noticed that the pile was considerably smaller. Someone stopped at the curb, went through the boxes that were clearly labeled Little Rock Compassion Center, sorted out what they did not like, and took about 5.5 boxes worth. So when the charity showed up, I had one small pile to donate, and it was some random stranger's reject pile. My intentions were good, Charity Dude, I swear.
I also intended to anonymously send my oldest friend some cute things for her two daughters. Just a nice surprise post Christmas thing. There were fairy wings, and a wand, and some books, and some paints, and some play dough. I was really impressed with myself. She'll never know who it is from! Except I...put the return address on the box because I was listening to the radio and they were talking about letters and packages delivered like 30 years late. And I thought of like, undeliveravle mail purgatory, and put my return address on the box. So, she'll still get nice things but the anonymous part...I'm going to have to practice that part. And I hate that I messed that up, because I don't want it to be weird. Like now she's expected to do something for me. That wasn't the point, but that's kind of what happens when you give people gifts. They think they should do something for you. When the idea is to get them to do something nice for someone else entirely. Like this all started because someone raked our leaves for us. And I'd like to be a better person.
I did accomplish a few things successfully, but blogging them seems to defeat the purpose, which is just to do something nice. I only blogged the failures because I think it's sort of entertaining. Plus I think it reinforces my point about my inability to keep my giant yap shut about things.
Except the thing I'm not going to tell you about until the beginning of April.
EDIT: Bleh - I can't comment on my own blog. But in response to comments. DUDES. If it is what you guys think it is, I'm seriously gonna have to break up with my birth control. I better not be pregnant. Damn. Now, I gotta go pee on a damn stick. But seriously, I'm 100% sure that's not what I'm talking about, and also, I'm 99.999% sure I'm not pregnant. Sorry for the confusion.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Woo Pig Sooie
Watching the Cotton Bowl, rooting for the Razorbacks (ha! see what I did thar? root...hogs...because hogs root...for...things...nevermind).
Quick update during the commercial break: no New Year's resolutions. I generally just make changes as I notice they are necessary. It seems to work for me. I've spent the last month cleaning out the closets (then filling them back up at Christmas) and organizing sock drawers and shit. Not that it was really necessary. OCD girl likes things organized.
Games back on - have to go watch us kick Kansas' ass. Unless we aren't and then I have to stop watching because sometimes I think I'm a jinx. I haven't really watched the games this year and we were ranked 3 in the SEC, so...
Sorry, enough football talk.
Go Hogs!
Quick update during the commercial break: no New Year's resolutions. I generally just make changes as I notice they are necessary. It seems to work for me. I've spent the last month cleaning out the closets (then filling them back up at Christmas) and organizing sock drawers and shit. Not that it was really necessary. OCD girl likes things organized.
Games back on - have to go watch us kick Kansas' ass. Unless we aren't and then I have to stop watching because sometimes I think I'm a jinx. I haven't really watched the games this year and we were ranked 3 in the SEC, so...
Sorry, enough football talk.
Go Hogs!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
1996. On the surface, it seems like I was boy crazy but I think my one true love at this time may have been myself.
14 year old Megs (almost 15!)
M is MC this guy I really like (I liked a boy. Shocking!). We could have an interesting relationship (maybe people didn't want to date me because I talked about 'interesting' and 'mutually satisfying' relationships? 40 year old student loan officer indeed) because neither one of us wants anything really serious (bwahahahah), but he sees me like most boys see me - as a grinny girl scout, everybody's little Gilligan (have you heard my new band Everybody's Little Gilligan?) - ever faithful, sweet, and pretty much dull and predictable. I like myself, but I wish I was alluring, mysterious, and sexy (at 14). There's nothing really alluring, mysterious, or sexy about a practical, responsible, _________ girl (1. My husband would like to point out that all those traits 14 year old me hated so much actually make me an ideal wife. 2. I have no idea what that blank was about.)At least I am not really predictable though (or coherent, apparently, wasn't I just lamenting my dull predictableness a minute ago?). I mean, some people can predict me, but not people that I am not really close to (I...okay?)The thing is, I am fairly attractive, smart and interesting (also: modest and humble) so why are guys so not interested in me? (Because 14 yo guys want boobies).I am not stupid, ugly, personality free, or dull so what is the deal? (No boobs). Boys are dumb that's the only thing I can figure out (also I had no boobs. You'd think this was a fairly simple equation for someone so smart...). Anyway, my major crush is M. He did like me once, but I had a boyfriend (except boys never liked me so...coherence: not my strong suit) and he kind of fell for my step sister a little bit (he was so in love with me he immediately transferred that love to my stepsister)but that is over now, and he broke up with his girlfriend two weeks after Valentines Day, so I think he's unattached (in my defense: he didn't actually DATE my stepsister. He just thought she was hot, basically. Also, this never went anywhere).
Damn, I spent a lot of my teenage years obsessed with boys, apparently. Also, with myself. On the other hand, I mention in an entry later about how I hate it when I obsess for weeks but I can't help it. These entries were pre-OCD diagnosis, but I can totally see it now.
M is MC this guy I really like (I liked a boy. Shocking!). We could have an interesting relationship (maybe people didn't want to date me because I talked about 'interesting' and 'mutually satisfying' relationships? 40 year old student loan officer indeed) because neither one of us wants anything really serious (bwahahahah), but he sees me like most boys see me - as a grinny girl scout, everybody's little Gilligan (have you heard my new band Everybody's Little Gilligan?) - ever faithful, sweet, and pretty much dull and predictable. I like myself, but I wish I was alluring, mysterious, and sexy (at 14). There's nothing really alluring, mysterious, or sexy about a practical, responsible, _________ girl (1. My husband would like to point out that all those traits 14 year old me hated so much actually make me an ideal wife. 2. I have no idea what that blank was about.)At least I am not really predictable though (or coherent, apparently, wasn't I just lamenting my dull predictableness a minute ago?). I mean, some people can predict me, but not people that I am not really close to (I...okay?)The thing is, I am fairly attractive, smart and interesting (also: modest and humble) so why are guys so not interested in me? (Because 14 yo guys want boobies).I am not stupid, ugly, personality free, or dull so what is the deal? (No boobs). Boys are dumb that's the only thing I can figure out (also I had no boobs. You'd think this was a fairly simple equation for someone so smart...). Anyway, my major crush is M. He did like me once, but I had a boyfriend (except boys never liked me so...coherence: not my strong suit) and he kind of fell for my step sister a little bit (he was so in love with me he immediately transferred that love to my stepsister)but that is over now, and he broke up with his girlfriend two weeks after Valentines Day, so I think he's unattached (in my defense: he didn't actually DATE my stepsister. He just thought she was hot, basically. Also, this never went anywhere).
Damn, I spent a lot of my teenage years obsessed with boys, apparently. Also, with myself. On the other hand, I mention in an entry later about how I hate it when I obsess for weeks but I can't help it. These entries were pre-OCD diagnosis, but I can totally see it now.
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