Saturday, October 31, 2009

the worst.

i'm all hyped up on sugar this halloween morning. so i was looking forward to my wonderful lunch. just as i was about to take my first delicious bite of a glorious sandwich; provolone cheese, extra mayonnaise, and a touch of mustard, all on 2 pieces of the fluffiest white snyder's bread you've ever seen in your life.....

i receive this text from JJ: "you should have heard my butt explosion this morning. the most unbelievable sounding shit ever."

suddenly not so hungry.

a halloween scare

i babysat last night, and i always have to talk to someone when i'm on my way home from work. since Moon is in Vegas, the time difference isn't right. and all my other friends are in seattle together having a blast. my mom didn't answer. so i had no one to talk to on my way home. so i went to my last resort: JJ. he hates the phone. and got all huffy when i made him talk to me the whole way home.

as i was turning into spring creek, he complained, "uuuuh, are you almost home yet?!?!" i thought i would trick him and so i said, "no, i have a very long way to go still." then i quietly shut the door to my car and hung up the phone. i sprang to the door to open it wide and scream "SURPRISE!!!!" but it was locked, so instead i just kind of ran into it. then i jiggled the handle (it's what i always do to let JJ know it's me and that i'm home) and i heard him shout behind the door. i said, "uh, hello?" and he said, "NO! WHAT?!?! WHAT THE F&*$?!?!" so i put my key in the lock and opened the door. there he was, standing in a pseudo ninja position with his hands all cocked up and ready for battle. i said, "really? am i really that scary? i seroiusly scared you just now?" and he said, "well...there was a creepy van that drove by about an hour ago..." i said, "JJ you are worse than a paraniod old woman who lives alone with her cats, OMG!" he frowned and grumbled.

later i let Cleo out and ran back inside and said, "OHMYGOSH JJ THERE WAS A VAN OUT THERE!!! WHAT SHOULD WE DO?!?!?!?!" he said, "THERE IS?!?! OHMYGOD WHAT COLOR? WAS IT SORT OF REDDISH? THAT'S GOT TO BE THE SAME VAN, OHMYGOD. LOCK ALL THE DOORS RIGHT NOW L" ha ha ha gotchya you 12-year-old girl.

halloween is for chumps

last tuesday at lunch (yes, i ate in the employee break room. we ran out of cheese at home so i didn't have anything to take for lunch) and there was a discussion about halloween costumes at work. one of my coworkers says, "L, i bet you have some good costumes," and i just stared at her thinking "oy, i have sexy kitten, sexy sailor, sexy french maid, sexy peacock and sexy fanta soda-pop girl. (SEE BELOW: COMMON THEME: RAH)




(SENIOR YEAR: NIGHT TWO: FANTANAS order: The Black Dahlia, Me, Rah, Moon)


which one shall i wear to work to get fired in? wow, that might be a cool way to be remembered...The Girl Who Wore A Bejeweled Bra And Underwear That Was Supposed To Represent A Bird Costume To Work And Got Canned....." then i snapped back to attention..."uh, costumes are lameee..." and she was like "oh hush, i bet you have some good ones." i was like LADY OF COURSE I HAVE SOME GOOD ONES THEY ARE THE SHIT. BEST COSTUMES YOU'VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR LIFE BUT, OUTSIDE OF COLLEGE, WILL GIVE PEOPLE THE IDEA THAT I AM A COMMON WHORE. and there isn't a CHANCE IN HELL i'm wearing a black shirt with black pants and ears with eyeliner whiskers on my face. that's the lamest shit ever--so half-assed and insulting to those of us who spent weeks constructing said peacock emsemble.

well today i am at work. and, though not in costume, am sporting a modern, witchy-like halloween outfit. i.e. black skirt, black sheer sweater with ribbon belt tied around the waist...and the best tights with orange skeletons on them. they are the coolest ever. except that the skeletons get bigger around my thighs...

i walked into work and ran into some residents who "oohed and ahhhed" over the tights. then comes Roy in 637. he takes one look at me and says, "where are your pants?" this is reminiscent of my 21st bday in Selah when i wore a tutu to the bars. before i left to party hard, my father asked me the same question.

my answer to both men? "i'm not wearing any today." leaves them with an annoyed twinge on their mouth and sends the ever-popular 9th-grade-girl-in-a-tube-top-and-miniskirt-on-her-way-out-the-door-to-school message "shut up i wear what i want"

halloween is useless beyond college. i tried to explain this to some of my coworkers this morning, but seeing as none of them even went to college, it was just irritating.

in september, while googling costume ideas, i suggested to JJ a number of cute ideas for this year's celebration. couple/group costumes are the best! Moon, The Black Dahlia, Rah and i were the coolest fanta soda-pop girls ever! and now we have white patent leather boots for the rest of our life--i'd hardly call that a bad thing. for this year, i thought of circus people (i.e. me as clown, JJ as ringmaster, Chanel as tiger, Cleo as elephant) but he said NO. "what about chefs? and the Cs can be olives?" he said NO. "cowboy and indian!?!?!" he said NO. "tarzan and jane? Cs could be monkeys?" he said NO. "OMG JJ YOU ARE SO ANNOYING I'M WORKING SO HARD ON IDEAS HERE, WHAT IS YOUR INPUT!?!?!?!"

he said..........."i want to be a king." i shot him an incredulous look while trying to stay calm "A KING?!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! NO." then he whined and pouted and got pissed at me and said, "well i'm going to be a king, you be whatever you want." and so i whined, "OMG COME ON JJ YOU KNOW HOW I LOVE GROUP COSTUMES DON'T DO THIS TO ME!!!" and he smiled and said, "well, then, you can be my queen." kjasdfou8waeoifjwopeihgulsadflsflssdadsjfakslfd9drsfio4392kjrew90fu3iofw

so i ordered 2 Regal Robes With Lux Fur Trim Collar. one size fits all. and a king crown, queen crown, sword and sceptor. a jester's cap for Cleo and a bee costume for Chanel....wait for it....she is Queen Bee.

that's the most creative part about the group costume. i get the order and.....the queen crown doesn't fit. scepter is dented. robes are appallingly cheap. but JJ had a terdy "i'm the king" attitude this morning when he tried on his stupid outfit. the things i sacrifice to make that man happy.

Monday, October 26, 2009

money and me

the "o" key on my laptop fell off. DAMN. but i kind of like the feel of the little rubbery button that's there. oooooooooooooooooo i like it a lot.

ok. so i have a problem with saving money. every time i know i have a little extra, i think briefly of adding it to my--excuse me--OUR savings account, but then i always see something cool and in the back of my mind i hear, "it's ok, you have a little extra this month." then i end up charging jazzercise class, Juicy Couture doggie bowls, a crystal candlestick holder, a men's vest for JJ that he says is way too queer for him to wear, and sequins leggings on my credit card. then i end up spending all of the money that i would have put into savings, you know? i know it's really bad. but i don't have debt. and i would say that oooooooooooooo (i'm sorry i really like the "o") i would say that i am really good at finding deals. like reaalllllllly good. like YOU WISH YOU WERE ME GOOD. for instance, just recently i got a BCBG dress marked down from $198 to $7. i bought a faux leather vest for $4.98. i bought Anthropologie dinner plates for &7.95 each. i bought $200 ankle boots for $34. i bought a bag of powdered sugar for $1.30. i find deals everywhere. and i ooonly ever buy things if they're on sale. UNLESS it's something necessary. like cat food or jeans. i think the fact that i sale shop justifies my behavior.

here is another critical problem: is my worst enemy/best friend. because they have new sale items every single day. EVERY SINGLE DAY. oooooooh no. you put things in your digital shopping cart and you don't realize how they're adding up. then you accidentally spend $60 in one sitting. and my worst personality trait is probably that i have never had buyer's remorse. like never. i never ever return anything unless it's broken. and even then i always try to fix it first. so instead of kicking myself in the nards for spending $60 on, i think "OMG CAN'T WAIT TIL THAT SHIT COMES TO MY DOORSTEP!"

clothes are my life. besides JJ and the Cs. and my computer. and network television. i love clothes! and i figure i wear them everyday of my life, i might as well buy cool ones. i compare everything to clothes. like today i went to the grocery store to buy some staple pantry items and my total was $32.64...WTF $32.64?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! like that is a nice Free People top from the Rack.

and 2 weeks of work at RW would get me 40+ items at

and 3 months of this:

IS THE SAME AS THIS: (drooooooooooool)

i mean is there even a question? ...well, there wouldn't be if it wasn't for JJ.

the bottom line is that i am a fashionista. but because i have a family to feed and a house to decorate, i have become a frugalista, my friends...a frugalista.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

farting is not a crime

Juelz Santana came gallavanting into town this weekend, and we decided to go a little crazy with our outfits (leopard tights and sequins shorts were included) we went to dinner at catacombs and ate the always delicious tomato bisque spicy soup and caprese salad complete with a bottle of house red.

we had such a wonderful time chatting about life and love and how/when Juelz is going to move out of her mom's house. then we decided to go for drinks at an ol favorite college bar, J & D's. we shared some laughs over our Frank's Special drinks, then we picked up JJ from work and went to a party. said party was fun for a bit, while we said hello to some old friends. (and a new one for me! i have a new spoke friend and she is cool. she agrees that transitioning into adulthood blows)

then we went home so JJ could change out of his work clothes. back to J and D's to see good friend Red G, whose underwear i didn't even see last night (that's a first Red G, and i'm kind of mad about it) at this point, the tomato bisque spicy soup wasn't really sitting well in my stomach, so i relieved myself and farted. BFD. i "quietly whispered" to Juelz of my flatulence. some people overheard, and the secret was out. it spread like wildfire. within an instant, the entire bar was plugging their noses and staring at me. one boy was even pointing at me and said, "it was THAT girl." "FUDGE," i said to myself, "self, you are really in a pickle now." i first almost died of embarrassment, but then i just got annoyed. LIKE CALM DOWN PEOPLE. IT WAS A FART. YOU HAVE ALL FARTED IN THIS BAR AT LEAST A DOZEN TIMES IN YOUR COLLEGE CAREER, QUIT ACTING LIKE I'M A DISGUSTING WARTHOG.

then Juelz heard it: the confirmation that i don't know how to be a normal person and therefore do not belong in bars, and that mean girls truly do exist..."how is SHE married and i'm still single?" because you're a bitch, that's why.


i asked JJ this morning "you do still love me even though i farted in J & D's and everyone smelled it and pointed and laughed at me like i was in the circus?" he grumbled and laughed and let out a fart himself. i will take that as a yes, a definite yes.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

jazzercise will be the death of me

i am an uncoordinated and stupid person.

i did sign up for jazzercise. and i did go to my first class on thursday.

4:12 pm- i walked in with a smile on my face and i said hello to two older women sitting on a bench. then i walked onto the middle of the dance floor.

4:17 pm- CLASS STARTED and it was phenom! i mean, so great! i was like movin and groovin to the beat, kicking my legs and shaking my hips, and copying what the instructor was doing.

4:32 pm- started to slow down just a bit.

4:37 pm- WHOA GETTIN A LITTLE TIRED HERE. come on, L. gotta KICK IT UP.


4:47 pm- OMG EW. am i SWEATING?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!


4:51 pm- quietly set down my gear (i.e. 2 lb weights and stretchy aerobic thingy) and walk into the back room.

4:52 pm- sit in chair. head between legs.

4:55 pm- head still between legs. start to feel human again. stand up, look in mirror, cringe in horrified fashion at the state of my appearance.

4:57 pm- ashamedly walk back into class with my head down just in time to do the slow-down workout.

5:05 pm- ok i guess this class isn't that bad, as long as i get to take a break each time. but seriously? i'm the only person of my demographic here. and i saw the older women judging me when i grabbed the 2 lb. weights, as they reached for the 8 pounders.

5:10 pm- i think i am blacked out. i have no energy and i feel like a raisin.


5:17 pm- pats on back from the women congratulating me. just stare straight ahead with pale face and white crackly lips.

5:20 pm- just sign where the woman tells me to and take my "WELCOME TO JAZZERCISE" packet and GTFOOT.

5:35 pm- get home. get in shower. sit down in shower for 20 minutes until JJ yells at me to quit wasting the hot water.

5:57 pm- get out of shower with shaky legs and lay thankfully on the bed.


wake up feeling as though i have been beaten up by Lil' Kim.


wake up feeling as though i have been beaten up by Christopher "Big Black" Boykin from MTV's hit show "Rob & Big"

1:12 pm- texting conversation with LJ goes as follows

LJ: i think you are in the same jazzercise class as R's mom!!!! (R is one of LJ's sorority sisters who is now happily married and residing in spoke. her mother also apparently lives here.)

L: ohmyghoddd. how do you know?

LJ: R reads your blog and her mom goes to the class and was telling R that there is a young blonde skinny girl in her class...?!?!?! (feelin OK about being young, blonde and skinny. pat on back, self. but feeling like a failure because i'm the type of person who exercises with my peers' mothers)

L: OHHHH F*&% my life. ohmygoddddd the coincidences in my life are gross.

LJ: hahahaha her mom was trying to convince R to come and used you as an example. she said she thought you would be peppy but you moved kinda slow. hahahaha (oh, really LJ? is that funny? is it funny to you that i'm so out of shape that i moved slower than the 50-year-olds that frequent the class? is it funny to you that i made a complete FOOL OF MYSELF IN A JAZZERCISE CLASS?!?!?! jklfsdhsl lfalfkjka;d. well, it is not. it is not funny. it is not funny at all. i suck and it is not funny)

L: hating my life continually....TELL R TO JOIN THE F&*%ING CLASS


i was made fun of by a mother.

i lose.


my dear friend and neighbor Rah, if you are reading this. JOIN. THE. CLASS. NOW. OR. I. WILL. STEAL. YOUR. SOUL.

MAXFORCE! the blood stains

so for our wedding we got a beautiful white duvet from Pottery Barn and some white and blue striped Shabby Chic sheets. some white Shabby Chic euro pillows and some great khaki Lacoste shams. top it all off with the robin's egg blue monogrammed JHL pillow. all the ingredients for a perfect cloud bed, wouldn't you say?

so why am i blogging about the perfection of my bed? because JJ has a serious problem. he bleeds in the night. in my perfect cloud bed. i still call it "my" bed because it's my box spring and pillowtop mattress and memory foam that my dad bought me before my junior year in college (aka "The Lonely Year") that bed was my closest friend that year, and i'm quite attached to it.

JJ gets more papercuts/Chanel scratches/rugburns/knicks than any person i've ever met. seriously. for instance, on our honeymoon he used a BIC razor to shave his face and cut off his top 3 layers of skin, still has a scar. last year he had a winter-related accident which caused a severe shin laceration. and his hands are always bloody with papercuts and hangnails. since he has started playing recreational hockey with his coworkers this fall season, he has even more battle wounds. most recently, an elbow lesion that bleeds like a river all day.

we woke up on thursday covered in blood. it looked like an axe murderer had committed a henious crime and decided to sleep in our bed. blood on JJ's pillowcase, blood on the DUVET, blood on MY PILLOWCASE, blood on the sheets, blood on my pajama pants, etc. i mean. REALLY?!?!?!?!?!?!

i looked at JJ i said, "ARE YOU SEROIUS?! LIKE, I'M A GIRL, AND I BLEED ONCE A MONTH OUT OF MY VAGINA AND I MANAGE TO KEEP THE BLOOD WHERE IT BELONGS---OFF THE BED AND INTO A TAMPON, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!?!" he only glared at me and mock-vomited because i said "vagina" and "blood" and "tampon" in the same sentence.

anyway, i washed all of the bedding. nothing came out. so i went on a mission. to find a blood-stain removal product.

and here is what i found at target:

do you see what it is called? MAXFORCE! oxiclean MAXFORCE! right on the bottle it says "removes tough stains like wine and blood." i ought to give ol Dexter from Showtime a call and let him know what a gem i found.

i washed all the bedding with MAXFORCE! and the blood is gone! THE BLOOD IS GONE PEOPLE! IT'S AMAZING! THE BLOOD WAS THERE AND NOW IT'S GONE!!! BAM! JUST LOOK AT HOW BRIGHT MY BEDDING IS NOW!!! OXICLEAN MAXFORCE IS INCREDIBLE! (that outburst was a tribute to the late and great Billy Mays)

i bought like 3 boxes of band-aids at target as well. now i MAXFORCE! JJ into putting on an electric-colored bandage/shield for each of his gashes before bed each night.

problem solved.

Monday, October 19, 2009


JJ and i carved pumpkins tonight.

tonight was also the night the Dodgers lost.

not a good combo.

JJ was all cocky this evening as he strolled around the MH. "oh L, just you wait. i'm going to kick your ass in pumpkin carving. they're going to call me to participate in competitions." i just looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "well, we'll see about that."

i cut the top off his pumpkin and gutted it. because HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW.

i chose a modest but perfect spider. freehanded it obviously.

JJ chose to trace the intricate Kings Hockey crown right onto his pumpkin. he starts to carve and i said, "ooh, be careful there honey, think about what you're carving." he says, "i know what i'm doing be quiet."

then it's silent aside from the sounds of vigorous carving.

"GOD DAMMIT!" he said. "what?" i said. "i messed it up," he said. "i knew you were going to, you should have listened to me," i said.

i look at his "crown" and the elaborate drawing he spent so long creating is laying on the table in one chunk. so basically all he did was carve the basic shape of a crown. you know, the three-pronged one that a blind person could draw?

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" i said, "you just spent all that time drawing the crown's details and you just cut it all out." "you're a jerk," he said. "why don't you just do something easy like a ghost on the other side," i said. "FINE," he said.

then the Dodgers choked and he threw his hat on the ground. "i hate pumpkin carving," he said. "oh? i thought you were going to be the world champion," i said. "UGHHLLGHGHHGGHGGG," he said.

he carved with spite until he was finished.

here are the pumpkins:

JJ's is the one that doesn't look like anything at all. mine is the picture perfect spider.


RW has constructed a "checklist" in the event that a flu pandemic hits our nation/building that includes hoarding canned goods and vitamins in case you are too sick to go to the grocery store. really? come onnnn.

RW is seriously recommending that all employees get a flu shot as well as the H1N1 vaccination because of all the oldies around.


CP has gotten me up-to-date on the dangers of vaccinations. and i really don't want to be pumping foreign chemicals into the crook of my arm. PLUS I HATE NEEDLES.

today my boss said, "L, are you going to get the flu shot(s)?" i said, "ehhhhh i don't know..." she stares at me...."i just don't want all those chemicals in my body." she narrows her eyes at me. "what do you think? are you kind of pushing us all to get one?" she said, "well, i think it's a good idea for all of us since we work in a long-term care facility with the elderly." OMG DON'T PULL THE "ELDERLY" CARD ON ME WOMAN. she said, "think about it, they're here all week."

i have a cold. so i googled, "getting a flu shot when sick"

and found:

Who Should NOT Get a Flu Shot:

Anyone with:

* An allergy to eggs
* Fever and/or cold



just another day with my delightful coworkers

HOT EATS! COOL TREATS! at dairy queeeeeeeeen! remember that one? for some reason it's stuck in my head today.

i kind of think that if i didn't work here i wouldn't have any good blogs. seriously.

today is the last day of the year in which my bare legs show in Washington. au revior, sun.

i walked into work today and the construction coordinator is telling his newly hired seasonal painters, "now, if you start coughing, you'll have to wear a mask because of all this bird flu going around." just please turn on the news one night of your life or pick up a damn newspaper. BIRD FLU. really?

at 7:57 am on Mondays, there is a guy in maintenance that walks by my desk to drop his two netflix movies in the box. by the looks of this guy, the movies are probably 1980's box office fails. depending on what i'm wearing, he makes a comment. he just takes whatever shirt i have on and adds a "y" on the end. on the day i wore my favorite butterfly blouse he said "you're looking very butterfly-y today!" and i was like "ha ha, yes, yes i am." but one day i was just wearing a purple shirt. just purple. nothing crazy about it. he says, "WOW! you're looking very purple-y today" OK GUY CALM DOWN. IT'S A PURPLE SHIRT. today i am wearing a long sleeved plaid dress, so he said, "well you're looking very plaid-y today! heh heh" like he's so creative. next Monday i'm going to be all "OH, WELL YOU'RE LOOKING VERY DOUCHE-Y TODAY!"

today is also "Halloween Decoration Day" at work. it basically means that if you are the head of any department here at RW, it is your duty to walk by my desk all bundled up (even though it's not even that cold outside) with your chin in the air like a pompous ass, trying to look important while holding a handful of stuffed pumpkins and a scarecrow. and GOD FORBID ye to have a smile. because OBVIOUSLY it is vital business arranging hay bales and gourds. they are all outside like soldiers of the decorating army. all serious faced with furrowed brows and flat-lined mouths. like if i was in the decorating committee i would run out there in a witch costume, cackling with glee, throwing leaves around and maybe i would have a bottle of rum to share. I MEAN COME ON HALLOWEEN IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

JJ and the cold

as you know, JJ is from southern California. therefore he is not accustomed to the northwest weather. even though he has lived here for 5+ years. we all know what happened last year when i let him go into Nordstrom on his own to pick out winter boots. (in fact, this year i suggested to him that he buy ugg slippers. as soon as i muttered the three-letter "u" word, he turned beet red, obviously reminiscing about his "incident" last year. he said, "I DON'T WANT UGG ANYTHING!")

last year after God took his 5 foot white dump on Spokane (he must have had taco bell that day har har har), JJ went into Winter Depression Mode Majah. he sulked around the house complaining of frostbite and shoveling, moping around and whining about anything and everything to do with winter. i myself, a northwesterner to the core, am always as prepared as a bear for a thing like winter. i have gaggles of hats, gloves and scarves, and even my own pair of snowboots made by The North Face. (an unwanted Christmas gift in 06 that my mother refused to let me return). i, the northwesterner, am made tough for the cold weather.

this year JJ has better organized himself. last week he went to Nordstrom Rack by himself (gasp!) and came home with a nice pair of sheepskin slippers and a smile. he also purchased himself a fluffy navy blue bathrobe that he never takes off. the robe is actually quite obnoxious. he walks around like he thinks he's Hef with his chest showing and wears a stupid half-grin on his face like he just got to spend the night with 3 bleach blondes adorned with silicone cups rather than his flast-chested wife who wears plaid pajama pants and a tshirt from Alaska with a wolf on it (gift from Rah, thank you). husband is warm and least for the time being.

alas, it will get colder. it will get below zero. and i refuse to endure his prima donna behavior this winter season. so i have taken it upon myself to purchase him a gift. a gift that keeps on giving my friends. a gift that gets me the BEST MF-ING WIFE OF THE MF-ING YEAR AWARD....

a tanning package.

now some of you may be thinking "WTF?" but really, this is a wonderful gift. i have heard that those born in southern states who are forced to live in colder, more supreme states, enjoy a little thing called a "happy lamp." it is like the sun to these people. it gives them the vitamin D they need and crave to behave like normal humans. i suggested one of these lamps to JJ last year, and he turned up his nose like a snob and said, "i don't need one of those, i'm fine." NO YOU ARE NOT FINE I WANTED TO PUNCH YOU IN YOUR BABY FACE NEARLY EVERYDAY FOR 4 MONTHS LAST YEAR.

so i have gotten him a tanning package. i mentioned above that it is the gift that keeps on giving for a specific reason. it is a gift to myself too. there was a reason JJ was born in southern California and not in Washington. let's just say he does not project an Edward Cullen sexiness when he's as pale-skinned as the moon. he is much more attractive with a lightly sun-kissed glow.

so he and i shall both be pleased this long winter season. JJ needs his slippers, playboy robe and tanning package to be a satisfied man. all little ol me needs to be happy this winter is to see my tanned husband smile. aren't i just the best ever?

i love my job (positive smile)

i complain about my job hourly. but here are reasons why i love it:

Bob in 718 came down and stood in front of my desk. he looked at me and smiled and said, "it smells good upstairs..." i said, "that's because there are new vanilla air fresheners." and he said, "no no no, it's the fresh smell of marijuana." god dammit he's a gem. i love him.

sakudfiowfej OMG REASON WHY I HATE IT HERE: disgustingly scary housekeeper just now came in from her smoke break complaining that taco bell is too expensive and she's broke. as we all know, cigarettes are a cheap life investment.

back to reasons why i love it here...

Otto in 739 just passed by (he has a walker and goes sooo snail slow. so we end up chatting for like 5 minutes while he trudges along past my desk) and said, "good morning L, you always look so nice. you're just beautiful." mind you, i'm wearing a navy blue tshirt and khakis, not my proudest of outfits. and i last showered on thursday. AND I'M SICK (typical that i JUST used my sick days. i can handle a cold, but the H1N1 better not steal my thunder) anyway, i cannot imagine what he would do if i wowed him with a sequins dress and sky high heels. the man would lose his marbles! i would even go so far as to toot my own horn and say that the vision of me in an outfit like that might put a kick in his step. i think i will name my first born son after him.

HOLY SHIT SOMEONE PLEASE CUT OFF MY HEAD GLAMOROUSLY A LA ANNE BOLEYN. ANOTHER REASON I HATE IT HERE: Thais just called and recited verbatim an email we had both received.

do you see the problem? i can't even get through one blog about how lovely my job is without something happening which makes me hate everything.

i'm a celebrity get me out of here.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

being healthy is hard

i have stopped drinking pop (soda for you weirdos). i have started drinking sparkling water. and it really subsides the craving for pop! it's so great. and i have been eating an apple a day. AND i have only bought ONE BAG OF THE BEST THING IN LIFE (CANDY CORN) this season. i ALSO looked up jazzercise in Spokane and plan on calling on Monday to sign up. here is the website if you don't believe me:

pat on the back, self. you could say that i'm on a healthy kick.

on Thursday i was feeling like a nice wife, so i hopped in the car with Cleo and headed to Soulful Soups, the best best best soup joint ever, to surprise JJ with a healthy warm lunch. i parked on the street then realized i just put all my change in the honeymoon pig (even though the honeymoon is over, we still put our change in there. i guess it just makes us feel good that we're being good "savers"). i rooted around the car and found: 1 dime under my seat, 1 nickel covered in grime in the cupholder and another nickel in the glovebox. yes! this gave me exactly 10 minutes of meter time. and it was 11:40, the lunch rush hour! so i ran across the street and smiled as i skipped toward the soup shop. then i stopped cold. for there, right before my eyes, was Soulful Soups, with a sign on the door that said "CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS" and the windows were all blacked out. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF SOUP SHOP CLOSES FOR RENOVATIONS IN THE FALL? LIKE COME ON, THE FALL IS THEIR BUSIEST TIME. NOBODY WANTS HOT SOUP IN THE SUMMER, YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE YOUR RENOVATIONS THEN. IDIOTS. so i stamped my foot and said "FUDGE" and ran back to the car. the meter still said 10 minutes. sdlfsljdflsfd

so i decided i would go to the next best healthy place: High Nooner for a delish sandie. i had to circle the block and do all sorts of twisty turn moves in my car because of all the HELLISH ONE-WAYS downtown. when i finally got there, i parked on the street and BLAST IT! I FORGOT I HAD NO CHANGE. I USED ALL OF IT TO PARK AT SOULFUL SOUPS WHICH WAS A WORTHLESS 10 MINUTES BECAUSE THEY WERE CLOSED. so i screamed inside my car and Cleo's ears went down and flat because she thought i was yelling at her. i said sorry and patted her head.

then i went to the Best Place In The World where you don't have to pay for parking. you just sit delightfully inside your car and order your food through the window, and they even give your dog a free treat...this place of wonder is D'Lish. got 2 cheeseburgers (mine without the patty of course), a large fry, 4 containers of fry sauce and a large Mountain Dew. healthy, eh?

all i ever wanted was a vacation

if i had it my way i wouldn't work. i would just stay home and take baths in 100 dollar bills.

on Tuesday i had a mini panic attack. after i took off 8+ weekends from work for wedding, etc.... then another week for my honeymoon, i sent an email to my boss thanking her for understanding and "i'm back on normal schedule! no more time off i promise!" why did i have to say "i promise" ??

well now i need a weekend in November off to escort the family i babysit for, to a wedding in Santa Barbara! (YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU!) as well as time off in December for a Christmas celebration in Hawaii/Camarillo.

back to Tuesday. i was texting like a madwoman to JJ and my mom, asking for advice on how to get the time off without actually having to quit my job/get fired. i know i had some paid vacation time left, and a few sick days stacked i emailed my boss and asked how much time i had left. she told me the hours i had, and i calculated that my sick days plus vacation days bareeeeely cover my California weekend getaway and my Christmas holiday vacation. but even if they didn't, i've said it before and i'll say it again--I WOULD QUIT MY JOB BEFORE I WORKED ON THE BEST EVER DAY OF THE YEAR.

so i knew my days just barely covered my trips, all i had to do was request the days off. i am constructing a written request for the time off, when in strolls my favorite big-bellied, cross-eyed custodian smirking like he had a wonderful secret. i said jovially, "what wonderful secret do you have hiding behind that smirk?" he said, "i have six weeks of paid vacation time stacked up. isn't that awesome?" the smile faded from my face and i furrowed my brow and just stared at him. "indeed." i wanted to slap that smirk off his face for having 6 weeks of paid vacation when i'm barely scrapping by to earn Christmas with my family.

from here until the end of the year, i cannot get sick. because i have already used all my sick days for Christmas. while this custodian gets 6 weeks. SIX WEEKS. i asked him what he was planning to do for 6 weeks, and of course he rubs his belly and looks at me with his good eye and says, "road trip to go huntin and campin in Montana." just please. i almost had to vomit.

Monday, October 12, 2009

musings and life lessons from S

the little boy i babysit S is 4, so naturally he knows everything about everything. and i just let him think he's right about it all.

the other day we were having chicken noodle soup for lunch, and he was pondering the facts of life when he asks, "what's your mailman's name?" and i said, "i don't know, what's your mailman's name?" he responds nonchalantly, "Clifford." i look at him and laugh, knowing that is 99% false. i say, "CLIFFORD? where on earth did you come up with that name?" he (quick as a whip) says, "i didn't come up with that name, his parents did."

yesterday we were at the park and he was donning his new polar fleece sweatpants. they are a little too big, so he was running around while holding them up. i said jokingly, "S, i think those pants are soooo cool, but they're a little big, do you think i could fit into them?" he was not amused by my joke and said, "no. you have order them in your old are you again?" i said, "23." "ok, well you need to order them in a size 23 then." size 23. ooooook S. "oh ok, that's what size i am? wow! thanks S!"

we were also planning a pirate quest the other day. S said, "why are some pirates bad?" i said, "well, some pirates are bad because they steal." he told me, "well then the good pirates are run by God and those pirates that steal are run by the level, because he is bad too." (the level=the devil) "wow, i said, i didn't know that! thanks S." he smiled triumphantly.

it's much more fun to play along with him, rather than correct him because he totally thinks he's right.

JJ and the ice cream cake

last night we had a craving for dessert. so JJ went to the grocery store and picked up an ice cream cake. it was so delish. it was chocolate and mocha flavored. with whipped cream on top. and we watched an old favorite: good ol Chevy in the classic Vacation. "personally i'd rather see a pile of mud that eddie"..."she's not fine clark, she's dead!"....."clark, tell rusty to behave himself"..."rusty, behave yourself." there's so many good lines. anyway, it was the perfect sunday night.


this morning i went into the fridge to get my sandwich making things (i.e. cheese, mayo, mustard) and breathed inwardly very loudly. for there, right before my eyes, the ice cream cake was melted all over everything. i mean. it was everywhere. all over the water bottles, all over the asparagus, all over the yogurt, all over the pickle jar. and it was dripping menacingly close to the cheese.

"JJ YOU IDIOT ICE CREAM CAKES CAN'T GO IN THE FRIDGE THEY'RE MADE OUT OF ICE CREAM," i yelled. he came into the room huffing and cussing and without any pants. i was tres annoyed. upon closer inspection, i also realized that my smart wonderful husband threw away the tray for the cake. so the cake was simply sitting on that round piece of cardboard, you know? so it was even more messy. so i said, "WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU THROW THE TRAY AWAY?" and the pantless, and therefore non-threatening JJ roared back, "JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME CLEAN UP THE CAKE"

and then my mom called and i went out the door to work, the sounds of JJ's troubles fading away.

i texted JJ later, "i'm sorry about this morning with the cake, i love you. can you feed cleo? i forgot." and he said, "ya"

i think he's mad at me.

Sunday, October 11, 2009


the residents all share an email account here at work. so daily i print out pictures of toothless kindergarteners, 8-year-old playing soccer and babies with cake on their faces. i print out emails in size 18 font (so the residents can read them) that say things like "MOM, IT IS JAY. IT WAS GOOD TO SEE YOU LAST WEEKEND. MY HOW THE WEATHER IS CHANGING." etc. etc. clearly i look at all pictures and read all emails. i mean.....come on.

anyway, a the son of a resident came to my desk asking about the e-mail procedure. i simply told him that we check about twice daily and we print them out whenever we get one. he asked, "do you even print them out on sunday?" and i said, "yes, yes i do. that's me because i always work sundays." apparently he thought highly of me because this is the next email he sent to his mother:

I also took the time to look at RW's email procedures and they are pretty robust. The woman who does the lion's share of the work is named Lacie. Though new-to-me, she "knows" you from the email that you get. Lacie works 4 days/week... Sat, Sun, Mon, Tue. She gets in at 0700 and usually is printing email by around 0830. She is not much older than your oldest great-grandchildren so that probably means she is a facebook and twitter and texting freak. I believe she prints twice-a-day. She has no trouble with embedded or attached pictures and she always prints your pictures in color. Lacie gives the printed output to the nursing staff for further dissemination. And Lacie won't care if the message spills over to a second page.

i mean, WOW. LOOK AT ME! i do "the lion's share" of the work around here. i'll take the compliment! and i get here at 0700, not 0738! and right you were, i AM a facebook freak! this guy made me sound absolutely fantastic. the way he embellished me was quite lovely.

at least one person in this building will know how hard i work. even if she is 85 and has dimentia.

the mystery of the broken phone

on tuesday the receptionist who has the shift after mine was hacking up a lung. like serious phlegm issues. i barely got out of there before gagging up my lunch. so when i got into work yesterday morning, the green lung of B.Winkle was haunting my thoughts. i naturally squirted a hefty amount of hand sanitizing liquid (that i purchased for the desk. this is not B. Winkle's first offense) onto a kleenex and wiped the phone down for fear of B. Winkle's germs.

sharing a desk with 4 other people, 3 of whom disgust me upon immediate eye contact, is the most horrific thing ever. like if Room Raiders on MTV came and put a black light over this desk, i'm sure they would find far worse "unidentified stains" than those found in the beds of the adolescent teen boys that are featured on the show. what, with B. Winkle's green lung, Thais' penchant for snacking on bacon while typing, and Andrayyyya's (spelled "Andrea" but she corrects everyone, saying "it's andrayyyyyaaa" like she's European or something) allergies, she sneezes every 3 seconds, what's a nice (and mostly) clean girl supposed to do? basically it's like a festering pool of nasty germs at this desk. and the only other normal person who works here, another receptionist Jenelle, and i have to fend for ourselves in this infected pool of bacterium which is practically frothing. she and i have made a pact to fumigate and sanitize whenever possible.

so yesterday i was keeping up with my end of the deal, wiping the phone free and clean of the inexcusable microbes that come out of B. Winkle's nose and mouth. after i finished, i set about doing my normal work activities. the next time the phone rang, i answered it....and the person on the other line couldn't hear me. "damn phone," i said, without a thought towards my actions earlier with the hand sanitizer.

i ended up having to eat my lunch at my desk because of the issue, and the maintenance man whom i offended with the zit comment understandably did not make my phone his priority.

but it wasn't until later that night in bed, when it hit me: i suddenly sat up and exclaimed with an evil but hearty laugh, "IT WAS ME WATSON! TWAS ME WHO BROKE THE PHONE WITH MY EXXXTREME CLEANING!" mystery solved! JJ gave me the one-eyebrowed look.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Blake's Curse

when i was 16 i worked at a daycare. and there was a 7-year-old i'll never forget. he had an uncanny ability to make me feel stupid. his name was Blake (who's stupid now? what a hideous name) he once told me my hoop earrings made me look Mexican (????). and the time he really got me was when the little crusty shit said, "Teacher, why do you have red spots all over covering your face?" it hurt. yes, i was a pocked-face teen. as were many other SHS attendees, but mine were especially horrid. and my bffs KitKat and KKiss (sorry i outed you). Sam and LJ had (and still do have) the pores of angels. i narrowed my eyes at the kid and said, "they are zits Blake, i cannot help the fact that i have them. stop talking about them." he said, "but they're so red." oh Blake, you are so dear.

as a 23-year-old adult, you'd think i'd be careful to never pull a Blake. however, i still am doing and saying foolish things without thought on a daily basis. FOR INSTANCE, today the maintenance man (not 10-4) came down to my desk, and i noticed a rather scabby looking wound on his upper left cheek bone........and so i said, "what happened to you there?" instantly, as soon as it came out of my mouth....i caught my own mistake. BUT IT REALLY DIDN'T LOOK LIKE THE TRADITIONAL ZIT. LIKE IT SERIOUSLY LOOKED LIGHT IT MIGHT REQUIRE ATTENTION FROM SOME NEOSPORIN AND A BAND-AID. i continued like an idiot, "...or is that just a zit? i have one right here, see?" and i pointed at my own little miniscule red bump. his face just sort of got embarrassed. there was an awkward pause, and then i spoke yet again, "oh, yeah, a zit....well it just looked like maybe someone punched you there or something." ohmygod. i lose. just lose. i'm such an ASSBAG!

after all these years, you'd think i'd have learned my lesson. Blake broke my spirit at age 16. and i have sympathized with those bearing the pesky puss-filled nuisances on their beautiful faces ever since. but today, i had a little bit of Blake in me. today i let myself down. damn you, Blake. damn you.

Friday, October 9, 2009

the reason i never drink whiskey anymore.

i was so lucky when i turned 21. i had two 21 runs. one with KitKat, KKiss, LJ, Sam and Rah....also with DD cousin Brett. (see below) and the other with some great college pals. including Moon who rented a limo for the evening. a limo to drive to the one and only Big Al's Country Barn.

the first 21 run was on my real birthday July 29. i wore a tutu and a smile. and after that last AMF, it was time to call it a night.

the second 21 run was the weekend after. so basically i was still recovering from the first one when it was time to hunker down in some cowboy gear and go out again.

the evening was great! a little bit o barn dancin, some keg racin, aaaaand a free shot...

you see, i have never been good at taking shots. (except for that one weekend i had duck farts and broke my nose...also a WSU occasion). i always go to take it, then wimp out and can't swallow. and my cheeks fill up with the nasty alcohol. then when i eventually end up gulping it down, i gag horridly. i just lose.

but you never want to look stupid by denying a shot. or a beer bong for that matter (as a sophomore at GU, two friends of mine made a homemade beer bong. i did one. then they talked me into doing another. i said no, but peer pressure is daunting, eh? i ended up barfing the entire second beer on my friend's bath towel before the alcohol even entered my blood stream. so it was sober barf. and it was awkward. and i felt so stupid. and it was like 9 pm. anyway, i bought him a new bath towel).

so back to my second 21 run. apparently it's tradition at Big Al's that when one turns 21, they get a free shot. of whiskey. oh excuse me, make that a DOUBLE SHOT of whiskey that had been WARMED UP. like it was hot. hot like coffee. i mean, i'm not an effing cowboy. like i can't just shoot a double whiskey warm. but nevertheless, my peers coaxed me on stage (yes, stage) and all of Idaho's finest crowded around to watch me. i did a nervous half smile, but the shouts of encouragement got me going...and i lifted the double shot of death, screamed "YEAHHHHH!!!" and downed it. i'd like to say i then smashed the shotglass under my cowboy boot, but in reality i just sort of dropped it and walked straight outside the barn.

me on stage.

i could hear the crowd cheering. what a triumphant moment. my friend Hersh followed me outside and he asked if i was ok. not 12 seconds after my moment, the warm whiskey made it's way back up. and onto Hersh's shoes. jklfdlsdljll "really? on my shoes L?!" he said. "oy...i feel much better. do you think anyone saw that? i mean, that was a pretty sweet moment up until just now," i said. "you have a little....right there around your mouth L," Hersh said. "oh, yes, thank you. sorry about your shoes by the way. i guess they took one for the team."

he wasn't really that amused. but since it was my birthday he promised not to tell anyone about the "incident." it's all about appearances. (that's me and Hersh below)

everything continued to be so great after that. until Moon made me ride the bull with her. we were both wearing dresses. and i laughed so hard i accidentally peed a little on her leg. strike 2.

that's me whispering in Moon's ear that "yes, i just peed a little, please don't say anything i'm so embarrassed."

we didn't stay long enough for strike 3 to happen, but we did acquire bumper stickers that read, "what happens at Big Al's, stays at Big Al's." couldn't have said it better myself.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

and she strikes again...

my day yesterday consisted of impolite and discourteous incidents.

example one:

i was calmly sitting at my desk, doing my job, and The Poop Nazi with the mullet waddles out of her office at an alarming rate. usually when she emerges from her office, she toddles slowly, humming showtunes obnoxiously like an idiot, so that everyone is aware of her presence. not yesterday. she came like a midget mullet storm to my desk and growled at me to get out the guest reservation book (no "please" was involved). there was a discrepancy with the rooms, and she sighed heavily, saying "all i do is other people's jobs...this isn't part of MY job description." she was shuffling rooms around and switching people. i kindly pointed out that there were two room reservations with people having the same last name. she continued to pound her fist on the reservation book and scream at me, "BE QUIET L, I KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!" i turned away from her with my eyes wide open in shock. i didn't dare say another word. after the problem was solved, she said, "i didn't mean to snap at you, but i knew what i was doing, and you were saying 'no, you're wrong nyah nyah nyah,' and it was frustrating." (the nyah nyah nyah is her mocking me by the way). then she continued, "i have been going nonstop all day from 7 until 1, running around doing everyone else's jobs. i haven't had any time to sit." i was still in shock, so i just said, "ok..." and she walked away. then i almost cried. i mean, she never said "sorry." and it was so rude. and i can't complain to HR because she works directly with the CEO. so i just have to take the unjust treatment with a ginormous grain of salt. but HERE'S THE CLINCHER: after she complained about her horrible, awful hard day of running around and no time to sit...i mean literally 2 minutes after she goes back to her office, i get a CHAIN LETTER E-MAIL from her that's a stupid thing with like pictures of cats holding ice cream cones and hearts and is all "you're a valuable friend, if you know 10 women who are your friend, please forward this e-mail, if i don't get this back, i'll know the truth...blah blahhhh." a chain letter. really?!?! she's sooooo busy, but has time to spend on forwarding useless personal e-mails. needless to say, i didn't send the "friendship e-mail" back.

example two:

i go to babysit at 3 pm. S says to me, "i don't want to be nice to you biggest ever dodoo stinkyhead." charming!

the difference?

S apologized and said, "can i get you a glass of water?" (that's what i calls service!) and then when i tucked him into bed he said, "goodnight i love you L."

The Poop Nazi could learn a lesson or two from the 4-year-old.

Sunday, October 4, 2009


it is October 4. 10-4.

and this is what happend to me on October 4th, at 7:07 am:

i was pulling out of my driveway on my way to work in a cute outfit (yesterday's ignominy never to happen again) and. the. gate...(my worst corporeal enemy in the land besides the girl with the spider tattoo on her neck who works at Jack in the Box who judged me everyday i went there for three straight weeks my senior year in college to get a large curly fries and buttermilk ranch sauce. she would recognize my voice on the order speakerphone, and interrupt me and say, "i know i know. large curly fries and buttermilk ranch sauce.") anyway, the gate. THE GATE. it was stuck 1/4 of the way open. i went around and typed in the code, and nothing. nothing. so i stood there staring at the gate. then i kicked it. and said "F$%& you" to it. then i called my Mom. then i called JJ. i mean, WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?!? then i ran to my landlord's house (cursing my cute outfit for being unpractical) and knocked on her door. nothing. then i ran home and googled "Spring Creek Community" and got the number. called, and my landlord doesn't answer. so i call the emergency maintenance service and tell the woman my problem and she connected me with my landlord's cell phone. she answered and i could practically smell her morning breath through the phone. she was so groggy. she was like "ok.......i'm still in bed.....but i'm going to get up.....yawn....and put some....sweats....and a baseball cap on.....but it's going to take me a little bit." REALLY?!?!?!?

and then i realize how late i really am going to be. but it's a Sunday. and there's no one to call at work to say that i will be late. i am the one who turns on the phones. so i did the only thing i could think of: i called the maintenance radio at work. i knew someone would answer...

so a guy answered. i said, "it's L from home, the gate to my community is stuck, so i'm going to be late." pause....."10-4," he said. thanks for the sympathy there. but 10-4....the irony is stupidly astonishing.

so i am waiting for my landlord to show up clad in her sweats and baseball cap...and finally she comes. she drives the 40 feet from her house to the gate. she gets out and walks up to the gate and says, "i don't know anything about gates." OHMYGOD. "i guess i'll have to call the gate guy." YOU THINK?!?!

then she said, "i guess we could move these potted plants and you could drive up over the rocks between the gate and the tree...

so i did physical laborous work this morning. i picked up all of the enormously heavy potted plants and moved them. and she stood there watching me. and after about 10 minutes of squeezing JJ's enormous truck inch by inch, through the 4 centimeter space between the gate and the tree, i was free, free at last. well not really, since i was going to work.

The Ultimate Regret

dear God, why did you let me leave the house in brown corduroy pants, a yellow sweater, and moccasins from 2001? (yes, i really wore that to work yesterday...i'm totally ashamed)

my sister CA has my car to see her boyfriend, and JJ is in LA, so i am stuck driving his truck all weekend. yesterday Dee had me up to her apartment after work for a glass of wine and to look at her "20 years as a flight attendant with American Airlines" scrapbook. (and OMG you should read the guidelines, she saved the employee handbook! couldn't be married, pregnant, fat, short, tall, skinny, long-haired, etc...the requirements were so specific. had to wear high heels, had to wear estee lauder makeup, had to wear your hair just above your collar, etc. and of course she thinks of today's flight attendants with distaste. she said, "nowadays you can be pregnant AND have terribly penciled eyebrows ((LOL)) she's so funny) anyway, after Dee's, i decided that since i was alone, i would treat myself to my favorite sandwich shop: San Francisco Sourdough. it's like $9 for a sandwich, but sooo worth every bite (they even have a special mayonnaise spread to DIE for)

so i called JJ in the car on the short (2 minute) drive from work/Dee's apartment to the sandwich shop. i park and step out of the car, still talking to JJ and a man is standing outside of the Panda Express (7$*&%#*@!#$%&^ is what happens to me after Panda Express...never again) next door to the sandwich shop, and he says to me, "you might want to straighten out your car a little bit." and i stared at him then said, "OH my GODDDDD" and got back in the car and fixed it. he watched me the whole time. i got out and he said, "thank you very much" in a patronizing tone. i just walked past him and scowled and said rudely, "you're welcome asshole." except i said "asshole" in my head and not out loud.

and you know when something like this happens, you curse yourself for not being quicker on your feet. then you plan what you SHOULD have said, but you're never brave enough to actually go back into the Panda Express to yell at a man for something that happened 15 minutes ago. but you'll always remember how you didn't handle it. The Ultimate Regret.

so as i got into the sandwich shop, i thought of how i would have ideally liked the situation to play out:

it would have been a Monday, and i would have been wearing NOT an ugly outfit but a pencil skirt, my favorite butterfly blouse and black bootie heels. complete with my Gucci sunglasses (because without Gucci just couldn't be done). i would have parked and stepped out of the car. the guy would say, "you might want to straighten yourself out." and i would have stopped and stood there, in the sexxxxy outfit, put my sunglasses down my nose just so my eyes were barely showing, give the man (he was ugly and fat, and standing in front of the Panda Express) the once-over from head to toe, then say "you might want to pull the stick out of your ass," then walk away, the bootie heels clacking on the sidewalk as my hips swayed and he stared after me feeling foolish and beaten.

i mean, i win in all facets of life situations against that man. why did he make me feel like an idiot? he caught me off guard is what he did. he caught me off guard. on a Sunday. in JJ's truck which i can't drive anyway, and in a bad outfit. the nerve of that man.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

the olden days

yesterday went a little something like this:

my sister CA came into town on Thursday, and Friday morning we hung out and moseyed around...but she left me at 1 pm to go hang out with her boyfriend. and JJ had to work a hockey game. i was supposed to go for drinks and to the game with JJ's coworker's wife, but she had to work. so i was alllllll alone.

now, normally, i wouldn't have minded, but i was without phone (it died for reals) and without friend. only the internet and tv to get me by...i was practically like Laura Ingalls Wilder. so i sat in bed all day and night, watching stupid things. then i took a shower at 9:30 pm out of sheer boredom.

and this morning i had to get up at 3:30 to take JJ to the airport because he gets to be in California for the weekend. and Sam, LJ, KitKat and KKiss all get to hang out next weekend. and Rah and Nebular are busy celebrating their 9 year anniversary. and Moon, The Black Dahlia and Barth are all together in NYC. and so i just decided to have a pity party for myself because i am working. all alone in this world.

doesn't anyone feel bad for me???????

growing up.

i'm a big girl now. i.e. married and out of college. recently i have removed the burden of my cell phone bill and health insurance from my parents. they still pay for my car insurance.....but that's a different story for a different day.

because i have to pay my own cell phone bill now, i have removed the "smart" from my smartphone. my blackberry died last week, and i wanted an iphone because i'm a technological follower. but i just couldn't justify spending 100 of my own precious dollars on a phone bill every month. i would much rather save that cash for trendy-izing my closet. duh. so i opted for this cool pink phone! it does everything i need but let me go on the internet to update my facebook status. SIGH.

because i work 2 part-time jobs, one of which i don't have to pay taxes on, i don't get insurance coverage. so i had to purchase my own plan. i wanted to just go without the insurance for a while, but my insurance salesman of a father said no. so i just sent in the check for the first two months of health insurance...TWO HUNDRED AND TEN DOLLARS. what a crock. i told my dad that his people are theives.

and i'm sorry to say, but i kind of want to jump out of a tree and break my arm, just so i could get my money's know? but couldn't you picture it? i would be laying there, in agonizing pain, screaming for someone--anyone, and i would think to myself, "self, you need to update your status on facebook in order to get some would say: "Lacie is laying on the ground with a broken arm, will someone please come pick me up and take me to the hospital plz?? thnx" BUT THEN I WOULD REALIZE...GASP! my phone isn't smart anymore! i cannot update my facebook status. then i would die there in the grass. from a broken arm and broken dreams.

i mean, it's a little bit dramatic. but still. growing up and making cuts is tough.
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