Crappity Crap Crap Day

This has been my day today and it's only 9:30 am. Actually this all happened before 7:30 am.

1. My dog is back to not wanting to potty outside. She would at least go outside when I took her out, but only to play with the June bugs.

2. I didn't sleep well last night and so I was up from 12-1 watching the Barefoot Contessa. I like her kitchen. It's pretty and calming.

3. Since I didn't sleep well, I didn't want to get up and therefore was running late all morning, while trying various times to get June Bug eater to go out and potty. I kept telling her I didn't have the time, nor was I in the mood for her weirdness today. She didn't care.

4. Trying to get myself out the door and decided to wrangle Chloe into her harness to take her out front to pee. I think she sensed my frustration as I'm smacking her velcro harness shut around her. I take her out front and before I even know what's happening, she sees a cat under the car next door. She takes off after it, yanking her leash out of my hand. She chases the cat across the street and then acts like she's going to come back to me. Nope...wants to keep on truckin'. So as various cars are going up and down my street, she's taking advantage of her newfound freedom by peeing in everyone's yards. So unladylike. I'm fuming at this point...but also scared thinking she's just going to keep going until she gets to 23rd street. At one point after she peed...I told her what a good girl she was, feeling like a complete and total fool that I'm praising her while she's on the lam. But I thought she might come over to me for a treat. She didn't care. Finally she stops to check out a trashcan and I was able to get ahold of her leash. Wrapping it around her throat briefly crossed my mind. So we walk back home...to my house that has been unlocked with the door open this whole time. I'm crying the whole way back. She's happily having a morning walk. Head is pounding.

5. I go to the post office to mail a birthday card. Then head to Sonic for a VERY needed Route 44 drink at this point. I'm also running later than usual...but I didn't care, I wasn't going to work without my Sonic drink. I pull in, there's four cars ahead of me. Of course there is, because I'm running late. Roller derby brings me out my 44 oz Dr. Pepper. I hand her my debit card and she said the machine was down, but it was okay to just take it. THAT is the highlight of my day.

6. Get to work and as I'm getting out of my car I drop my keys between the door and my seat. They don't want to become unstuck. Of course they don't. Why would they on this crappity crap crap day. Finally got them out and get to my office. There are people already here because it's almost 7:00 at this point and I'm usually the first one here way before now. They were worried and when I was asked if I was okay...I burst into tears.

7. I'm working away and need to get some file folders out of the cabinet and then drop them all over the floor.

8. I hate this day.

Deep Thoughts...by Jamie

Sometimes when I wear my new glasses, I have to remember that other people can still see my eyes, unlike when I'm wearing my sunglasses. Now I have to focus on not shutting my eyes when I'm tired of listening to someone talking to me.

I told this to my sister. She said it sounded like Jack Handy on SNL. That's me...full of deep meaningless thoughts.

I'm Still Hungry...

For the record, Chick-Fil-A's 8 piece nuggets are not enough. Yes, I got some fries too. What's your point? If I were to get 8 nuggets at McDonald's that would have been plenty, but CFA's nuggets aren't nuggets...they're niblets. They offer 8 and 12 pieces in the student union and I didn't want to look greedy/piggy by getting the 12, so I stuck with 8. I'm hoping that once my 20 minutes of post meal settling kicks in, my mind will be like...you're fine, you're full, suck it up. Pretty sure my tum is going to be telling me that my mind is dumb and I should have gotten the 12.

The End,

Greedy niblet eater

Shaved Legs and Dirty Feet

Last Wednesday, I started physical therapy because of this. After being horrified by my rapidly growing leg stubble when I was at the Orthopedic doc, I made SURE that I was freshly stubble free when I started PT.

Once he got me all situated on the table and was done poking my knee/world globe, he decided to check my strength/resistance. In the process he decides to take my flip flops off so he can hold my foot, while pushing my leg back, etc. So of course when he does that, I notice that the bottoms of my feet are filthy from my black flip flops. Shaved legs...dirty feet. I can't win.

Transplant

Had loose skin come off my pinky toe from a blister...should have used it for a skin transplant on my Hitler lip...

I'm Having Issues...

For the past few days I've struck a bit 'o bad luck...and believe me, I am NOT asking what else could happen, because I sure don't want to know!

1. Friday evening I get my haircut and my eyebrows/lip waxed. What I first believe to just be minor lip irritation from the ripping of the wax, is in fact...a burn. But luckily it's not completely across my lip...no, just the middle portion, so that I look like Hitler...if he'd gotten his lip waxed.
2. Woke up at 12:30 Saturday morning with a burning in the pit of my stomach that just didn't feel quite right. Of course it didn't feel quite right...it was the start of vomit city from a stomach virus that decided to set up camp in my system. So after barfing off and on from 2:00 am until 11:00 am on Saturday...I slept until 4:00 pm. I no longer felt nauseous or burny and was much relieved. But I also had a fever and was achy, to add to the festivities. Ate some crackers and drank some Sprite...first thing I'd had since 5:00 pm Friday evening. Phase Runny Butt sets in. I can handle this...it's not barfing.
3. Sunday morning feeling much better...had told my mom I was going to church with her because a) it's Mother's Day and b) new sermon series I wanted to hear. Go to church and have lunch with the family. Pizza. Yummo. I'm fine...who DOESN'T think pizza is a good idea after a stomach bug? Phase RB continues...and continues.
4. Exhausted and dehydrated from continuing RB...can't go to work on Monday. Extreme grumpiness all day from calling in sick and being tired and still not feeling that great.
5. Power goes out at 3:55 pm...while I'm watching Bones. No storms...sun is shining. Blip.
6. Storms set in...no power to see what said storms are doing...sirens go off continually. Still not knowing where storms are...or tornadoes for that matter. Uneasiness...but continue to sit by front living room window to see if I can weather map things from there. Also during this time...no cell service to find out from family what's happening. Boogers. The one call that comes in during my no cell service...is a recording from my mom's work, alerting me that there is a tornado warning. Apparently the sirens weren't the clue.
7. Storms pass...still no electricity...mom comes to get me to take me to her house to hang out for awhile. Harness up the dog for a chance to potty before going into the house. Dog not actually completely harnessed in. Dog attempts escape. Dog's tail gets yanked in order to foil escape attempt. I have dog in my possession...losing my balance in capture success...fall onto sidewalk. Dog thinking that's what I get for yanking her tail. Hobble home with dog who now senses hostility.
8. Bawl like a 5 year old.
9. Return to work on Tuesday...tummy mostly better...knee/leg very swollen and round, looking like a world globe. Several continents represented in bruising pattern. My boss gets me into see one of our Orthopedic docs. Leg hair is stubbly and hair is growing rapidly the more she touches my legs. Humiliation overlapping from fall and leg stubble. Thankfully, nothing broken or torn. Wants to see me again when swelling has gone down and my legs are properly shaved.
10. Sigh.

FRIDAY!

Weekends=more time in my jammies...

It's kind of been awhile...

I think it's been about a year since I've blogged on here. My last post was about the loss of my sweet cocker spaniel, Kelli. Well a little over a year ago we parted ways and a few months later I rescued Chloe. Ahhh Chloe...where to begin. Basically she's the devil. She is like a wild beast! First she was the crack dog because of how she jumps up and down all the time. Then when she started chewing things up (she was only about 10 months old when I got her), she became Chlucifer. Kelli was the first dog I had...ever...and even though she liked to play and run around etc., her eye issues really limited her being so...busy. Now I have this puppy that I had NO idea would be so freaky deaky crazy. She has definitely tested my patience towards the love of animals. I'm currently waiting on a new set of custom blinds for my front living room window as a result of this precious angel. So as much as I love love love dogs...if I come home and find my NEW blinds all mangled, ghetto-style...I'm going to drive her to the ASPCA myself and let her live with them. I bet they start calling her Chlucifer too.

A Mother Knows...

I'm not a mother in the 'gave birth to' sense of the word...but I did bring a living being into my home, who's needs came before my own 99% of the time. In 2001 I adopted a Cocker Spaniel named Kelli. That didn't seem like a "doggy" name...but I didn't have the heart to change it...so when I'd yell out into the backyard..."Kelli!!! Dinner!!!" my neighbors probably thought I had a kid of the two-legged variety. Well my four-legged child recently had to be put to sleep. I can't imagine what parents go through that have actual human being children that they've given birth to...or adopted...pass away and leave the quiet in their home behind, like the quiet I'm experiencing in my home now. That was the first thing that really hit me, other than the sight of my furry kid roaming the house...was how quiet my house became. It was just the two of us and how could a dog possibly make a difference in the noise factor? She didn't make a lot of noise when she was inside...she saved that for when I was asleep and she was going in and out of her doggy door barking at NOTHING. In fact, I called her my little ninja, because even with her collar on, she'd sneak up on you like she was Special Op's. The quiet I noticed, the night I came home from the vet...alone...was more of a total stillness...the lack of presence of another living and breathing thing. I couldn't get over how noticeable it was. I still notice it and it's been over a month now. A couple of months before she died, I had this 'urgency' to not want to be gone as much...to spend more time at home with her. I didn't talk to others about this, it was just something I felt. She was coming up on turning 12 and previous research I'd done on her breed, showed that their average lifespan is about 13 years. Even though a dog can obviously live a lot longer than that...or a lot less...I felt like I was coming upon that time. I really wanted to just be with her on the weekends when I wasn't working...not like in the past, where I would sometimes leave in the morning and not come home until late in the afternoon. Of course the guilt was there...it's my day off...and to her it was like another workday. But these past few months...the feeling was there. I just wanted to read beside her more...sit and watch TV with her more...cuddle with her more..."be" with her more. When her 'strange' behavior started and we were making more frequent visits to the vet, the urgency felt stronger...and there was just this 'feeling' that this past Christmas was going to be my last one with her. Even though I wasn't an over the top Paris Hilton doggy mom...I was still a dedicated mom to this four-legged being, who sadly, was treated, loved, and cared for much better than millions of children in this world. The fact that she wasn't of the two-legged variety, didn't change the strong maternal feelings I had for her...and the maternal instincts that women are given. So when that unspoken urgency came over me...where my child was concerned, I just knew...

Typical...

I wore my new camel colored wool coat today…since I was wearing my black turtleneck sweater and gray pants. I felt very tres’ chic walking to work…hahaha…well until I got up to the door and saw my reflection and the collar in the back was standing up and so I looked like I was trying to be a vampire.

and then there was none...maybe

My bug guy made another house call yesterday to help me plan my strategy of how to get the creature(s). As much as I don't want tiny rotting corpses under my house or elsewhere...I let him put down more poison in the garage. He checked the smack 'em trap under my sink...and Stuart had met his fate. I did not look...I couldn't bring myself to do that. So he disposed of it for me. Triumphant am I? No...because bug guy, after congratulating me on my success, says "I don't think that's the one that you've been looking for." Whaaaa? Apparently, bug guy aka rodent poop expert, feels that the evidence doesn't match up. Perfect. But at least my evening last night was quiet. No dog barking hysterically over something she can smell, but can't see. I actually slept for 4 hours straight before waking up wondering if Stuart's friends were surrounding me all Toga'd up...telling me to beware the Ides of November.

I Liked Stuart Little...until he came to live at my house...

I'm not overly fond of mice...except in the movies...when they wear cute outfits...and say cute things...and DON'T LIVE IN MY GARAGE.

My non-Screen Actors Guild visitor has been living in my garage for several weeks now. He also mistakes his new home for his new public restroom as well. I'm completely icked out by this. The compassionate part of me doesn't want to hurt him or her...I just want them gone. I've had several suggestions on what I need to do to get rid of it, none of which sounded appealing to me. So I went to Target and bought these little mouse 'hotels' that you can set. Surely if you buy mouse supplies at Target...it's not as disgusting. The handy dandy little mechanism I purchased, has a little entry point and when they curiously make their way inside, it traps them in there. I love it...it's perfect. I don't have to see it once it's been captured. I just set it...and once it goes in, it says...CAPTURED...so all I have to do is dispose of it. I bought four of them and placed them in areas where I'd seen evidence of him...aka...nasty poop. Oh and did I mention that he'd found his way into my house? It ate a hole through my dog food bag...has been hanging out under the kitchen sink(but not bothering to do the dishes while it was there) and at one point was near the front door. After several weeks there have been no hits with the contraptions...even though it's still hanging out in the garage...by evidence of more poo. Oh that and the fact that I can hear it moving around and rearranging things on the shelves. Reluctantly, I progressed to the sticky traps. No such luck there. Instead, it just ate the edges off of it...snacking on its death trap, if you will. In the meantime, I had the guy that does work on my house try and find entry points for the little bugger. He pulled out the dishwasher and plugged up the area under the kitchen sink...and also in my hot water closet. He also plugged up areas in the garage that he thought were access points into the kitchen. I was also informed that the contraptions that I bought, probably were too small for it to crawl into. WHAT? So I have steroid mouse living with me???? The creature, that I have now named him, has been stuck in the garage all this time...until this weekend...when he found his way back under the kitchen sink. Ironically, my bug guy had been out last Thursday for his bi-monthly visits...and decided once and for all...that we just need to kill this Son of a Bitch (those were his words...not mine). Very reluctantly, I let him put out poison packets in the garage. I still just hate thinking about this thing suffering...but at the same time...I want him GONE. The packets were put down...and the next day...the packets had been moved...eaten through...re-located...etc. So I just waited...and waited...to see him belly up. Has that happened? No...I think it's made him stronger. I think he's flipping me the bird at this point. After hearing him under the sink on Saturday...making all kinds of racket...I was freaking out. This thing WILL NOT DIE. At this point I'm thinking...oh it's on! I bought a packet of 4 smack 'em traps and put one under the sink and one out by my dryer (have I mentioned that I haven't been able to do laundry for about 2 weeks...'cause I seriously don't want to go out to my garage and have him mock me to my face?). I TRIED to put one next to my washing machine where his poopapalooza spot is. When I set it down...the think snapped and shot up in the air...scaring the crap out of me! So then I put the last one down...same thing happened. I had to resort to using a buttload of peanut butter on my last sticky trap. In the middle of the night, it was back under the sink...peeling itself off of the sticky trap that was previously under there. I hurried back to my room, because I didn't want to hear the loud snap. To make things more freaky...my dog, on two different occasions, woke me up in the night barking hysterically from her bed on my bedroom floor. I thought...if that creature has made it's way into my bedroom...my house is so going up on the market. I was too wussy to check under the sink before I left for work today, but as I was backing out of the garage, the snapper trap by my dryer was still in place...with nothing attached. Sadly, I was kind of relieved. I really don't want to hurt the little thing...and I especially don't want to see it once it's met it's fate...but at the same time...I'm about to go Terminator on it's fuzzy butt!

Crosswalks=Dead Man Walking

Crosswalks are just another way of putting a bullseye on your back...but yet I have to use them everyday to get from my car (thank you parking nazis) to the building I work in. To add to the fun, I usually get to work about 6:30 in the morning...when it's still dark. So not only do I have to do the stealth walk in the dark to avoid being raped and murdered...I have to make sure I'm not getting flattened as I cross the street. The other day as I was getting ready to step out onto the street...something flies past me...a dude on his bicycle...with a little headlight...cycling like he's in the Tour de France. That would have been a great collision story if I hadn't seen his "beacon of light" bearing down on me. Everyday I have to weigh my "should I go now?" options...since there are notoriously those boneheads that are oblivious to the fact that YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO STOP AT A CROSSWALK. Or there's the lady that as you're crossing the street zooms up to the intersection and stops...IN the crosswalk...yeah thanks...let me just walk AROUND you. The afternoons at quittin' time are even better because there is actually traffic out then. There are people that are pulling out of the parking garage knowing there is a crosswalk right as they're coming out of the garage...but yet seem confused...if not annoyed that there are masses of people crossing to get to THEIR cars, that they have to stop for. All this before mentioned fun is just on the SIDE streets...not even the main deathway of three lanes of traffic (each way) that you have to cross to get back to your car (again...nazis). Luckily there are those 3 second crossing lights to lead you to safety...because what would we do without those??? Well other than them barely giving you a chance to step off the curb before they're warning you to cross for your life. They start flashing "Don't Walk" literally before you've crossed ONE lane of traffic...so the rest of the time it's flashing at you as you cross the street...it's more of a taunt...in bright red (for blood)..."You're Dead" "You're Dead" "You're Dead". Winter's going to be great...

Flashback Friday

For some reason, on the way to work this morning, I thought back to this day in history when I was just 15 and had my learner's permit. One evening my mom and I were coming back from the grocery store and she was letting me drive. I was kind of crushing on someone and felt the need to drive by their house. Just to set up this story, it helps you to know that my dad had just gotten the alignment done on the car that very day. So we're driving past the crush house, which sat on a street that was kind of a circle, but you could drive all the way through - not a true cul-de-sac. I notice the front door is open, so I'm pointing this fact out to my mom, as we both become looky-loos. While being the voyeurs that we are, I felt this sudden impact as I hop the curb with the car and sort of drive over the corner of their front yard as my mom is shrieking at me. No damage was done...and I got myself back onto the street and drove on like you're SUPPOSED to...while my mom and I are both kind of stunned by what I just did. Then I utter these famous last words..."don't tell dad."

Niceness is Hazardous to Your Feminine Hygiene Health

Once again, while acting on a moment of kindness...I feel like it was a "what was the point?" moment. Yesterday, I was washing my hands while in the Loo, and noticed that there were several used paper towels wadded up or just laying on the floor. Normally, I don't touch other people's trash on the floor in a bathroom, 'cause that's just nasty. It was bugging me, though, so I took a CLEAN paper towel and picked up all the OTHER paper towels that did NOT belong to me. When I raised up to throw them away, I completely nailed my head on the tampon machine. I'm not sure I've hit my head that hard in a long time...if ever. In fact today, it's still hurting and I just have this overall feeling of doom up there. While I was washing my hands, I actually kind of felt like I could throw up from the pain...even though the situation was sort of amusing to me. I emailed my sister and told her about it - which she said, "If you still feel like throwing up, you need to go to the hospital." to which I said, "I don't still feel that way - it was just from the shock of the impact. You know, like when a guy throws up from the pain after getting kicked in the pecans." She was like...oh yeah - that's true. So needless to say, I'm rather annoyed at these grown women litterbugs that have caused my head trauma. You suck.

Miss Vickie is My New BFF

Miss Vickie's potato chips that is. LOVE LOVE LOVE her. I love her Sea Salt chips...the Smokehouse BBQ...and now....the Jalapeno'. Oh my-oh my. I already had some this morning - so I must fight off the urge for an afternoon delight (and that's not the kind most people refer to). Maybe if I walk by and see if they're all gone from my addiction supplier...I'll stop wondering if Miss Vickie wants me too.

I'm Officially Old...aka Having a "Senior" Moment

I realized this as I wrote out my first graduation check the other day. I've known this grown-up boy since he was 4 years old and now he's a senior graduating from high school! UGH. At least I'm not his mother...she probably feels worse...hehe. Writing out graduation checks was something my parent's always did...so am I now in that category? Ewww. Next I'll probably be trying to figure out AARP. Nice.

Sometimes it's okay to hurry up and wait...

My dad loved trains. LOVED them. For as long as I can remember back, if there was one crossing somewhere or getting ready to cross, he'd say, "Look! A train! Cool!" I had gone to a train show with him once or twice and usually was excited for him when he was happy about his train hobby. After he died, it was a long time before I could enjoy seeing a train again. When I changed jobs last year, my route to work sometimes puts me in the path for a potential train crossing and usually as I'm driving, if I hear the whistle in the distance, I punch it down the street so I can get over the tracks before the lights start flashing. You never know how long it's going to take once the arms go down...sometimes not too long and sometimes it seems like it's never going to end. One morning, I was already running late and sure enough, about the time I get to the tracks, the lights are flashing and the arms are moving down. I was so annoyed and frustrated as the train went by. Then I had this epiphany that my dad would have LOVED it. He wouldn't have cared about the time...well, usually. So even though I sometimes get frustrated about the timing, I've learned to embrace the train stops, because I'm sharing a moment with my dad all over again. I just wish the moment would still include the caboose, since the best part of waiting for the train when I was growing up, was trying to guess what color the caboose was going to be! Now when everyone else is frantically changing routes to avoid the train crossing, I just slow down and wait. There's too many other things for me to get upset about...and I do...like when the train has passed and then the arms don't go up for ever and ever. Then I can get mad at the city....but not the train...it's already passed...TOOT TOOT.

My dog...the con artist

First thing, right off the bat...my dog is very spoiled. She's not Paris Hilton pet-spoiled...but she's more cared for than a lot of CHILDREN in this world, sadly. From time to time, my dog will get a tummy-ache because I am a bad mom and feed her what I'm eating. Not in large quantities, mind you...but a french fry here...a chip there...etc. Sometimes if I've given her more than I realize I should have...later on in the day or the next day - but usually in the wee hours of the morning when I should be ASLEEP, her tummy will gurgle very loudly...more of a squeal, actually...and she spends a lot of time going in and out of her doggy door. Since I'm the bad mom that made her feel that way, I will get up at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning and scramble her eggs. This is what I've been told in the past to do for her when she has an upset stomach, because it is bland and apparently soothing. Or I'll make her minute rice...but she appreciates the eggs more and I kind of do as well - because then I'm not picking day old rice out of her curly ears or my bed. For whatever reason...the other day, I came home from work and she was SO happy to see her mommy - as usual...did the routine...up on the couch...gets her kisses and hugs and proceeded to be still very excited about me being home. When I went to go change my clothes, I heard her go outside - no big deal. She was out there for quite some time, so I went to check on her like the over-protective mom that I am...and she's chowing on grass out by the fence. I did notice that she hadn't eaten her dog food all day, as well. So I go through the routine...get out the skillet, the eggs, the bowl, etc. I check on her again...still eating grass...but is she 'watching' me watch her eat grass? Is she chewing, but yet, looking over her shoulder to see if the sympathy card is being well-played? It's hard to tell. A few minutes later, as I continue to scramble away, she comes trotting in and the tail begins to wag as she realizes that I'm cooking...more than likely for her...since I rarely cook for myself. I begin to question her..."are you feeling okay?" "what's up with you eating grass?" "you seemed fine when i came home - what's the matter?" "are you just trying to get me to scramble you eggs so you don't have to eat your regular food?" Her tail is really wagging at this point. I then let the eggs cool and dump them in the bowl with her food - and she about shoves me aside with her nose to get to her food - that interestingly enough...she didn't want to eat before now...and then proceeds to eat all of the eggs and her REGULAR food. So now I'm convinced that she thinks I'm the stupidest mother EVER and was probably pretend-moving her head near the fence to SIMULATE that she was eating grass...just to throw me into a panic that she might barf on my carpet, knowing I would immediately scramble her some eggs. I should have made her rice...then her ploy wouldn't have been nearly as tasty.

Please Recycle...and break your neck

I've decided that recycling can be hazardous to your health. I had just taken my blue bin of cans and newspapers out to the curb and walked back into my garage, only to trip over a package of tile grout....you know for all the tiling I do myself...not. Luckily my car was still in the garage so I didn't have all this open area for me to free-fall, I just stumbled around a bit and kinda fell...yeah...kinda fell. So there ya go...I recycle for the earth and that's what happens. Earth day is this month. I think it needs to be renamed Jamie Hurt Herself Trying to Recycle Day.
p.s. This is the story that I had completely forgotten about due to Shlong Man. I finally remembered it when I stopped focusing so much on that traumatic event...or maybe I repressed it.