I made split pea soup for the first time in my life and it came out de- wait for it -licious!
Okay, it does look like baby poop fresh from the source but it was mighty tasty! In all the years of me hosting Thanksgiving and making a ham along with the turkey, I had never thought to do anything with the ham bone except whack Andy over the head with it but when I saw the recipe and noticed I had all but one ingredient (the split peas which are essential for split pea soup, so I hear), well that was just too easy to pass up. Plus I didn't know what I was going to make for dinner.
Winter has officially hit the best city in the world so this is just what we needed on a cold and slushy evening.
Unfortunately!! Little did I know it would make about 5 gallons of soup! Me? I can eat about 2 or 3 bowlfuls in the next week or so and Andy will eat what I give him (or else!) but there is no way we can eat all that soup.
No. Way.
I mean, I get enough searches to my blog looking for answers to their green poop dilemmas and here I'll have some of my own.
The next thought I had was to freeze it and give it away to those I want to punish love "Merry Christmas Family! Pea Soup Just For You!" with tiny hearts on the card to show how much I care but Andy said the plan might backfire (pun?). He said we might walk out of Christmas wearing pea soup and that would be worse than eating it everyday.
I do have some casserole dishes to return to my mother-in law and to my sister so they will definitely get a visit from the Pea Soup Fairy!
Anyway, this marks the last day of NaBloPoMONoDoFoSho (posting every day in November)! I only missed 2 days woohoo!
Talk to you guys later and let me know if you'd like me to send you a special green package.
You're lucky I am writing this and not relating this to you in person because, for some reason, I keep calling it SPIT PEA SOUP and really, who wants to hear that?? Or be spit on by me? Except for Andy but that's another story.
P.P.S.
I did not go by the traditional recipe for Split Pea Soup because I have taste buds and like my food to have more spices than the bland ones I found online. If you have one you swear by, let me know.
1) I used to iron my work clothes the night before and I still do for Fridays but I've become so lazy, I iron my clothes on a daily basis after I shower in the morning. This is what makes me very late for work.
2) I usually get dressed in my kitchen since this where I iron my clothes (the ironing board is in a kitchen cabinet).
3) I always freak out when I'm getting dressed in the kitchen because the dogs will sit there staring at me like little Pervy Mcpervs.
4) I find myself apologizing to the dogs because I haven't lost the weight I want to lose.
5) I can feel their judgmental gaze as I suck in my gut to button my pants.
6) They are one of the reasons I leave my house depressed and ashamed of myself.
So, you know where I am today? I’m at work*. Yep. OZ is a jerk off who is at home probably scratching his balls right now.
I’m so tired I am typing this while my forehead is mere inches from the keyboard.
I’m so tired that when I clean my eye crust is seems to be on redial because it just keeps coming back.
I’m so tired I don’t have any word bullets in my mouth that let me shoot down Scarecrow’s “where’s waldo” outfit she is wearing due to casual day.
I’m so tired Milton just sneezed and I didn’t say “bless you” and instead said “bmeh”.
I’m so tired I’m drinking my coffee with a straw.
I’m so tired I wish I’d worn a diaper.
I’m so tired I’m ending this post now.
*People in the US usually have the day after Thanksgiving, off. Except those of us who work for tyrannical asswipes who kick puppies and burn butterflies.
I know it was sitting in the middle of the lemon swirl sherbet and the pistachio ice cream but that doesn't mean I was going to use the pickles as my spoon to eat my most delicious treats.
There was no need, my beloved husband, to give me this look
Beeeeelieveme when I say that if we were to be expecting a bundle of chaos (because let's face it, me + Andy = HIDE THE KNIVES!), I wouldn't keep the news quietly next to my heart like a treasured item. No, not me. I would say something like "Yo! WTF!! You knocked me up!!!!!" as soon as I found out AND AFTER YOU CAME TO. Because that my love, is something for us to suffer through together.
So... good news. We got our flood insurance money. Yeah! I know! How awesome, right? Right??
The bad news is that they issued it under my name (that's okay because I am who I say I am), Andy's name (he is who I say he is so that's good too) AND OUR MORTGAGE COMPANIES. In little tiny print, it says "this is a multiple party check and cannot be cashed without having all parties sign it". Great! Now we have to go hunt down Mr. National City and Ms. First Bank. I have no clue how to make a whole institution sign a check that belongs to us.
I feel like they delivered our money in shatter proof glass, set it in front of us knowing we couldn't get it and are currently laughing their asses off as they eat small children. Fuckers!
Because my husband is a great man and is whipped loves me, he got up early so we could go to the first showing and avoid all the tweens who were sure to be screeching and shrieking and sighing and talking. We were the first ones in the theater so Andy left his coat on the chair beside me and went to get our delicious nachos (yes, it was only about 9:30 and eating them so early goes against my junk food before noon rules but I am not being supervised at the moment, remember?). Here is what I didn't count on. THE MOMS! There were zero tweens but their moms were everywhere!
So there I am, sitting in the dark theater, waiting for my nachos (and Andy) when a group of them got in my row. Andy and I sat all the way in the back row smack dab in the middle. This way, buttholes do not have to walk in front of us when they have to use the bathroom because they either go to their left or the right. Movie watching is serious business! Anyway, they (the group of women) started side-sliding down my empty -except for me- row with no sign of stopping. When I noticed one of the MOMS' asses was going to sit on Andy's coat, I had to say something. Politely of course. "Uh, are you planning on sitting on my husband's coat??" Her "whoopsie" nearly drove me to commit battery. Where did she sit? RIGHT NEXT TO ANDY'S SEAT!
Then they started yammering away. Non stop! And giggling. And sighing. And shrieking. And talking. This was an unforeseen dilemma I have to say.
When Andy came back, I told him to sit on the other side of me (WOMEN ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SIT NEXT TO HIM)(but I'm not possessive or anything). It was a good thing because that stupid lady kept squirming in her seat to talk to her friends. I told Andy (in a loud whisper much to his embarrassment) "dude! she totally would have nailed you with her elbow!"
The the theater filled up with groups of women my age. I couldn't help but think that a lot of them were probably bloggers too. I would have stood up and asked but I was eating nachos.
Now for my movie review. I really wanted to like it. The scenery was excellent but as is the case with books to movies, they sometimes disappoint. I wasn't a fan of the actors. Unfortunately, this book is more about Bella's thoughts so it's kind of hard to translate that into a movie.
I found her constant exhaling annoying. It was almost as if she was trying to convey frustration/exasperation/fear by releasing air. Um? Yeah? I'm not much of an actress but even I could have done better.
Watch, here is me frustrated:
<FRUSTRATED></FRUSTRATED>
Here is me terrified:
<TERRIFIED></TERRIFIED>
Here is me exasperated:
<EXASPERATED></EXASPERATED>
Say what you want about my acting but I did it better than she did. It seemed like she didn't believe herself and if she didn't believe herself, why should I? You know how serious I take my vampires!
Anyway, the guy who played Edward is hairy. That's all I have to say about him.
Also? What is with young guys these days and their refusal to brush their hair? Don't make me go over there with my heavy brush because I will whack you with it and then brush your hair!
I have to admit I will probably go see the next one. Don't judge me!
Remember, I'm HEREtoday but I leave you in the capable hands of :
Every year millions of people sit around a table filled with tasty food, and a rotting cooked carcass of meat, and they tend to give thanks for the things they've received in life, and they count their many blessings. I feel it's all a crock, a show of sportsmanship if you may, of thanksgiving. Just because it's "Thanks"giving doesn't mean one has to give thanks, hell I do enough of that at Christmas, so this year I thought I'd save my energy on it, and use up my negative energy on the things I'm unthankful for.
The first thing that comes to mind is food that's not good for me, and that tastes great. I'm unthankful to the makers of those foods for making my ass big, and giving me the occasional zit on my face. Not only are the foods addicting, they are hell on my body, damn them all!
Another thing that I'm extremely unthankful for is well, family members. For some reason my family like to breed like rabbits, and it is awful hard to remember their birthdays, their addresses for cards, let alone their fricken names. Now if only I hadn't come from a long line of baby machines, the holidays may be a lot less stressful for me. Birth control is not in our vocabulary apparently.
Last but not least, I am unthankful in a way towards the internet. Before I started blogging I was outside, active, and bored to tears, but I was alive and un-pixeled. Since my days of blogging, I've had to put up with numerous stresses between my internets not working, to my computer getting viruses. I've also wanted to assault random images online because they have scarred my brains to pieces. Two girls and one.. really wasn't the shining moment of my view on the web.
So there ya have it, I could really rant and rave and throw my hands up at what I'm unthankful for, but then I would have to put up with your thanks on boring you to death. This year when your gathered around at thanksgiving, think about what your unthanful for and voice it. It's a guaranteed spot on Santa's naughty list, and ya'll know that, that is the "cool" place to be.
So... check out the new layout! How nice is this huh?? This is all thanks to Angie at Cup of Snarky who I think is better than Santa Clause and I'm sure way prettier! How am I sure she's prettier? Well:
I found this picture atSantarchy & Santacon which I will be checking out from now and forever. P.S. The boots are awesome!
I mentioned how I was a big fan of her work (hoping not to sound too much like a suck up)! This was Friday evening and by Saturday she had pimped my blog!! I am always amazed by the cool people one meets online. It makes me hopeful that world peace will be achieved within my lifetime. That and me stumbling across a large amount of unclaimed money. Tax free of course. Anyway, thanks Angie! I love the new look!
The other thing I'd like to talk about is the blog swap for tomorrow. Chica from Lady Sarcasm will be here and I will be over there. No, not there! THERE!Please be nice to her and treat her with the same disrespect you treat me. The title of her post is "My Unthankful Thanksgiving." which will be posted tomorrow Monday day of the lord 24th 2008.
I think that's it... unless? Did you guys want to hear about Tazz atacking a puzzle piece? Nah! ;o)
You know how sometimes you're in bed and your house is cold so you're cuddled up to your George (a 21 year old teddy bear) and your blankies are up to your chin and your mouth is probably doing that sucking on a bottle OF TEQUILA thing?
There you are, warm, snuggling your teddy bear, probably dreaming of half naked Brad Pitts dancing around just for you when ALL OF A SUDDEN your leg decides it is tired of living and tries to commit harakiri 腹切り (only without the cutting of the stomach part)(don't get technical with me okay? I know that is the definition for harakiri but the last thing I need is for somebody else correcting me) in the most painful way imaginable by taking your calf muscles and twisting them until they look like this:
This is what some call a Charley Horse and I call why-not-just-pull-my-heart-out-through-my-nose-you-rotten-bastard-that-way-I-will-die-faster. Both terms are acceptable.
Anyway, once you get the dreaded Charley Horse (I will use this term since the other one takes up too much space) you go from sound asleep to literally jumping straight out of bed and fighting the tentacles of your spouse/significant other/torturer frantically trying to straighten your leg and end the misery.
In the narrow space you have between your side of the bed and the wall, you start doing yoga poses, something you've never done while awake or sober, and you beg for the pain to go away. All this while your spouse/significant other/torturer/jerklaughs at the fact that you shot up 3ft in the air and did an amazing vault that deserved a 10 from the gymnast judges. He laughs and laughs and you swear at him that his pubic hair will be pulled out one by one without the benefits of anesthesia.
The pain is such that your mouth has an after taste unlike anything you've ever tasted. I mean, you'd remember if you had sucked on a tailpipe, right?
Then, just when you think the danger is over, you start to sit back on the bed and make the mistake of trying to get your leg to accompany the rest of your body. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING??? This sends your spouse/significant other/torturer/jerk/jackassinto uncontrollable laughter so you go looking for the tweezers to make good on your threat but then you notice walking is making it better.
You walk around for a little bit until you think the knot in your leg won't commit another act of treason. You go back to bed and your spouse/significant other/torturer/jerk/jackass/maggotoffers to give you a (mocking)massage but you know any pressure will just make you cry blood so you politely tell him to go find a spoon and dig his eyeball out of his head.
You get in bed, assume the fetal position and drift into sleep. No longer is Brad Pitt in your dreams. Now you are just having all kinds of nightmares because your subconscious is telling you not to straighten your leg. This manifest itself by showing you images of mannequin legs sticking out of a dumpster. You wake up sore and realize you will have to torture yourself a little more by wearing your 4 inch stilettos to work because it's Friday and therefore your meeting day with OZ, or whatever your boss' name is.
You slip your sad foot into your shoe and wait for the stabbing pain that will stem from your deformed leg... but... NOTHING! The shoes are as comfortable now as they have been the previous times you've worn them. This means you must go out and buy another 10 pairs of the sameexactshoe!
Uhm, so yeah. Drink water and eat bananas. That's what my trainer Ovi said will keep Charley Horses at bay.
Also? This did NOT happen to me. Allegedly.
Aww what the fuck! I saw Moulin Rouge on the cable guide only to be denied because it's the 1952 version! I was tricked! Bastards. Did you know that Colette Marchand (the Nicole Kidman of the 50s) had (maybe she's still alive and I'm killing her?) a lazy eye? And what is with the brutal kisses in old movies?? Did the director think it would make a movie sexier if it looked like the guy was trying to eat his lover's mouth?? Did they not get the memo that ravishing and ravenous are two different things???
P.S.
Today, I added the word *fuck* to my Live Writer dictionary. Champagne for everyone! Except Andy.
P.P.S.
My dog Tazz has been playing my nieces piano and I think he's pissed that he sucks because he keeps growling while he does it. Or maybe he's singing? I tell ya that I live in a nuthouse!
So, I do have a post but it needs tweaking and further editing and I was unable to do it tonight due to um uh I sprained my pinkie toe... yeah that's it!!!
Instead, I would like for you to "Caption this" I've never done a "Caption this" post but apparently, you put up a picture and people give you a caption on what they think is going on in the picture or something.
Since you guys know I don't abide by rules, neither should you. Do what you want with this picture. Print it, frame it, ogle it, googly it, whatever you want just tell me about it in the comments.
Also, I will be blog swapping on Monday November 24th with Lady Sarcasm go check her out so you know what her place looks like.
Also (#2), thanks for the many blog name suggestions (and thanks to those who like the name Bee's Musings, you have GREAT taste!)! I'm still thinking about it and it is still a hypothetical but you can check out the name suggestions HERE.
1) put pan on burner 2) light burner 3) put oil in pan 4) go remove Tazz's jaw from Andy's leg 5) come back and put beans in hella-hot oil
Stand back and watch the oil, liquid, fire combine for a beautiful fire display. BUT! Beware of becoming hypnotized by the flickering flames because they might make you want to get closer and you'll end up with an unfashionable hairdo.
Yup! I sure did start a fire and nearly burned my house down! The sad part is that it was my first official cooking day. Don't worry, everything is okay. Even though the microwave and cabinets were lit up like Rudolph after a week of binge drinking, nothing melted.
To quote Andy "Isn't making BEANS part of your DNA for cripessake??"
He's just mad because when I yelled out for help (normally I'm all calm,cool and collected but when I noticed the flames on my microwave and cabinets, something inside of me shit its pants) he came barreling from around the corner, assessed the situation and opened the back porch door and stood there in a semi crouched position…
… While he was getting ready toescape (WTF?) I turned off the burner and moved the pan to a less flammable area- the middle of the kitchen where there are no cabinets or cobwebs (do you know how fast cobwebs burn, YIKES!). Andy claims he was opening the door so that I may run outside and throw the pan as far as my little person arms could (not far, it probably would have landed at my feet).
I think we need to set up cameras in my house because this for sure would have won us the title of "America's dumbest couple"! We later laughed our asses off because we can't seem to function when no real adults are present (mommy?).
The beans came out great in case you're wondering.
Also, for Angie and Abstract (and even Andy) who feel jipped (Word is saying I should replace *jipped* with *japed* I thought they were joking) because I didn't give more of the story yesterday:
I was helping a MEAN patient with her medical forms since she didn't speak English but then I got a phone call and had to go back in my office to take it. She followed me back to my office (BIG NO-NO) and continued yammering so I had to give her the "hold on a minute" finger but I must have been pissed at her because I used my middle finger instead of the index one. Accidentally of course…
The boob thing, I was wearing a new bra (TMI?) and the girls were not being contained properly so I adjusted them with my back to the door and my front to the window. I couldn't see anybody out there but our office is on the ground level, it faces the parking lot and it's a medical building right on a busy street, during rush hour. I didn't pop them out or anything but if anybody saw me, it was clear I was shoving them into submission.
Okay, I'll talk to you guys later, I'm off to put a frozen pizza in the oven. The kitchen is safe for one more day.
P.S.
Why is it that when I try to sound like Gwen Stefani I wind up sounding like Cher but when I try to sound like Cher I sound like Bob Dylan? It's making it very hard for me to sing "Don't Speak" and "If I could turn back time".
So... Andy had to work on Saturday. He got up early, put Mocha the chunk on the bed, reminded me to go to the bank, kissed me good-bye and left.
I woke up at 9:00 a.m. STARVING, realized I would have to cook something so I went back to sleep instead. I woke up an hour later and said to self "Get your ass out of bed, go to the bank and then stop at Mickey Dee's for some breakfast and coffee" but I just couldn't make myself get out of bed so I watched some TV until the dogs started whining that they had to go outside or eat who knows really, they're always so damn needy.
I finally got around to going to the bank (it was 40 degrees but I walked out in flip flops, shorts and a t-shirt).
I hate going to the bank. The old ladies always give me a hard time about something and Saturday was no different. They were upset because I had signed my check with my *maiden* name and not the name of my husband. Seriously, that's what they said.
"This your maiden name! You need husband's name!"
I tried telling the little old Asian lady and the little old Polish lady that my name is hyphenated and I go by both but you know what? Sometimes it's just easier to pretend I belong to a man and sign it with my owner's name.
Since McDonald's is right across the street from the bank, I maneuvered my car through their drive thru (me and drive thrus do not get along! I can never get my car to contort itself in order to go through that fuckin maze! To add insult to injury, I always park too far from the windows!) but since it was too late for breakfast, because my lazy ass couldn't get out of bed before 11, I decide to just get a LARGE coffee. Here's where things get tricky.
Bee:
Large coffee please.
Ronald:
What kind of coffee?
Bee:
What? Large, regular I guess?
Ronald:
Would you like to try our new Mochas?
Bee:
Uh, okay. Large please.
Ronald:
Fat or Non-Fat?
Bee:
I don't believe in non-fat so... fat?
Ronald:
Anything else?
Bee: [When I'm in the passenger seat, I have the power to say "nothing else, thanks" but...]
A number 6, please.
I blame the fact that I was hungry on me ordering FOOD from McDonald's because I have a few rules I live by. No soda, fries, potato chips or candy before noon. AND! No McDonald's unless it's breakfast. Too many food poisoning incidents in the past.
When I pulled up to pay, I had the biggest shock of the day! My bill was $8.87- EIGHT DOLLARS AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CENTS! FOR FOOD. FOR ONE PERSON. AT MCDONALD'S!
If you're getting the impression that I'm cheap, I am when it comes to food. Especially crappy food because I only ate the fries and (drank) the coffee.
Oh well, only about 70 more days before my mom comes home.
Things I learned this weekend:
It's not shiving it's shanking.
Andy would rather watch Jack Frost [CREEPY!] than either of the two Godfathers because he doesn't like me quoting the movies for 3 days. "No! Then you go around saying 'mahnday tursday, it's business not personal, you broke my heart Fredo!, don't ask me about my business', not to mention using piano wire to try to kill me!"
Cher's character is 37 in Moonstruck but she looks AT LEAST 10 years older than I do.
I learned I can go almost the whole weekend without turning on my laptop and not have any type of seizures.
watching old movies. Only problem is, he won't let me turn on my laptop. Sometimes, being loved is such a hassle! Also, these guys are waiting to be dusted and arranged in proper Holiday formation. Any volunteers?
So yeah, I heard that the white house pooch bit a reporter. It was the first thing I saw when I turned on the TV and my laptop (well, the first thing I saw on my laptop was the picture I have of a half nahked Brad Pitt but you don't need to know that).
I say that fucktard of a reporter deserved it and his reporter license thingy should be revoked!
Hello?
Is it a good idea to pet a dog who has never met you??
No.
Just think about it. Would you go up to a person you've never met and give them a hug? [please say no- please say no- because if you say yes, we might not be able to be friends anymore]
I then went looking for the video and found the one below that shows exactly what the dog was thinking! Stupid reporter dude, if a dog with a Scottish accent tells you to leave him alone- LISTEN!
P.S.
My mom's plane left at 8:40 pm and I'm already wasting away to nothingness. (If nothingness means hoarding bacon like there's no tomorrow)
P.P.S.
The Wizard of Oz, the movie The Wizard of Oz, is lame. I said once that I wanted to find the producers of the new Willy Wonka movie and feed them to my beta fish for a slow death but I think I'll just hold off and see if they re-do The Wizard of Oz. Everybody involved in the old one is probably dead already.
P.P.S. Diesel? Are you calling me out dude? What is wrong with my Karate Chicken?? It kicks ass! The poor thing was mangled for my amusement! May it rest in peace.
So... Tracy posted about her crazy chicken who likes to follow her around WHILE SHE IS SMOKING!!! (Tracy, not the chicken) and basically begs to be petted (the chicken, not Tracy).
I want to share with you, my grandparents' pet... THE KARATE CHICKEN!
One of my uncles says that every time he would walk by the chicken, he had to go into Karate Kid protective mode because he never knew when the chicken would try to kick his ass.
The poor little chickaroo was attacked by cats and left deformed with its little leg sticking straight out.
Sadly, it died earlier this year after chocking on what my grandmother thinks was a tortilla. I didn't ask if the Chicken stew came out good or not but I'm sure it did.
****I accidentally hit publish before finishing this post so my apologies if you got excited and rushed over here.*****
☼ ☼ ☼☼ ☼ ☼☼ ☼ ☼☼ ☼ ☼☼☼ ☼ ☼☼ ☼ ☼☼ ☼ ☼☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼☼ ☼
It turns out that today, a new version of World of Wackies (The name is Wrath of the Lich King and it says he has necromantic powers... or something) came out.
Andy went during his "lunch" hour (at 10:30, I cnsider that still breakfast) (so does Mc Donald's) and bought it. The box is huge and comes with the game, a book, free passes for new recruits and the soundtrack for WoW. THE SOUNDTRACK.
I know I'm addicted to blogging but I can walk away from the computer. Andy? Well, he fell asleep in his chair last night while his avatar was being hacked to little pieces in the background (not really but it would have been funny if it was)!
I tried waking him up but the only thing that worked was me yelling "Andy! They're sticking something up your avatar's butt!" He jumped out of his chair then!
Anyway, I told him that now that my momma was leaving for Mexico, I was going to need more attention from him because I was going to be bored. His solution?
"I'll load the game into your computer so you can play too. That way we'll have a virtual marriage."
That all sounds fine and good but if I'm gonna have a virtual marriage, I'd rather it be with Ryan Reynolds (don't tell Brad Pitt but I'm this close to breaking up with him)(he's got too much baggage)(but don't think you can take him for yourself yet because I'm still not sure if that's the way I want to go)!
So, back when I was a wee little Bee, I used to hate the fact that my birthday landed on Veteran's Day. No offense to the Veterans but I was a little girl and all I wanted was a cupcake and to wear the "today is my birthday" crown just like the rest of the little brats in my class.
I know there must have been other kids with bigger birthday problems, like the ones who were born in July or August but frankly that thought never crossed my 5/6/7 year old mind or if it did I'm sure I probably said something along the lines of "well they can suck it, I'm all about me!".
Every year, around my birthday, my little town (I was born and raised in California) had a parade to mark the beginning of the 3 day Rodeo. That was always exciting because we got to walk all the way to Main street (we lived on B st. –SERIOUSLY- ) I remember most of my little girl birthdays fondly up until the year I turned 9. That was the year my dad had promised to take us to the Rodeo but instead decided to disappear for 2 weeks. To this day, I have no clue where he went or what he was doing but I doremember my mom being crazy with worry. Understandable since she had 4 children to take care of at that time.
I remember policemen coming and taking reports, our next door neighbor Benny calling people to help him scout the last places my dad had worked, our phone constantly ringing and people coming and going from our house. He finally showed up one day acting like he had done no wrong.
Until I typed that, I hadn't realized why I have always been indifferent to my birthdays. It's weird being the oldest kid. My brother Dan is constantly saying 'things weren't that bad' but I bet him 1 million dollars he has no recollection of those two frantic weeks since he was only about 5.
Anyway, let's pull ourselves out of that depressing shithole!
As the years have started to accumulate and begun doing major damage to my bones, I've become aware of them again. I try not to make a big fuss about my birthdays. I don't need a party, cake and presents (hello? I'm not a little kid anymore!). A nice Happy Birthday phone call will do just fine.
This year, my birthday started like any other day. Alarms blaring and being a damn nuisance like always. Andy stealing my pillow. Mocha barking. Me regretting the fact that I missed ONE number when I almost won the lottery. Meh. But then I might never have met Andy so I guessI won anyway [pukey with the saaappy! :o)]
Andy left, forgot to wish me a happy birthday, called me right before I got in the shower (see Tracy, that's why I need to bring my phone inside with me) weirdly, I'd forgotten it was my birthday too so I wasn't upset.
My mom came downstairs to give me my birthday hug right before I left for work. She was so cute, hadn't even opened her eyes all the way.
I got to work and BOOM! a little munchkin and her momma (my 5 year old niece Natalia and my sister) rounded the copy machine and yelled "Surprise Happy Birthday!". They came in early (like way way way early) and decorated my little corner of the asylum. That made my day!
I normally like taking my birthday off, not because I want to do anything special but because I hate the constant attention of people asking me what I'm going to do or what I think I'm gonna get for my birthday. They always look at me weird when I say we are just having dinner and I'm not expecting gifts.
The office manager, Omarossa (formerly Glynda the good witch), who for some reason is back from her I-hate-Bianca-more-than-I-hate-wedgies tour, was all chipper telling the whole fuckin world it was my birthday.
Now, if I weren't the self proclaimed Queen of the Anti-Socialites, I might have squeezed out a smile but instead I would stand in the middle of the hallway, while anonymous patients gave me their bland happy birthday wish, and shrug. Yup, I shrugged. I don't know why I responded in shrugs but I'm sure I meant them.
Then I enjoyed some time with my nutty family. But they didn't come for my sake, they for my mom's delicious cooking and as sort of a Bon Voyage party. Why? BECAUSE MY MOTHER LEAVES FOR MEXICO ON FRIDAY AND WON'T BE BACK UNTIL JANUARY 26TH!
I know you're sad now because you're worried about who will cook for me and Andy. I am now accepting care packages!
Speaking of care packages, in my mail I got some goodies from my dear friend Tracy and insulter Brian.
Brian sent me a card that says I'm an old hag. For reals he did.
But! I forgive him because he did a birthday post just for me. Tracy sent me replacement teeth after she read my twitter that I had uh, swallowed my vampire teeth (oopsie!). She also wrote me a cool poem!
Isn't it weird that I felt all warm and fuzzy inside when you, faceless people (well, I'm sure you HAVE faces… I hope you have faces.) I've come to like, wished me happy birthday? No doubt we are living in an odd time.
I am one lucky chick!
Now, I'm off to go buy ANOTHER birthday cake to take in to work. Go figure! It's my week to bring office treats AND I ALSO HAVE TO BUY MY OWN CAKE!
P.S. As I got older, I learned to appreciate not having to go to school on my birthday. I would go around school telling the other kids "Don't come to school tomorrow, it's my birthday."
I just wanted to thank everybody for the birthday wishes and also all the new people that stopped by and called me old without even knowing me very well. That is what I want Bee's Musings to be, a place where you feel free to come over and mock me without fear. :o)
I had a great birthday surrounded by lots of people who love me, weird I know, sharing with me the joy of hitting the big THREE SIX!
I leave this quick Andy & Bee in love phone convo:
Andy: How's your day going, buttnut?
Bee: Ummm great! Nancy and Natalia surprised me! [more on that later]
Andy: Good good. What kind of cake do you want?
Bee: You don't need to get a cake.
Andy: WHAT KIND OF CAKE DO YOU WANT??
Bee: WHATEVER IS FINE!!
Andy: Tell me what kind! YOU ARE SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS!
Bee: No, you're a pain in the ass!!
Andy: NO, YOU ARE!
And so ends another lovey dovey phone conversation.
He wound up bringing me Strawberry shortcake and Tiramisu, how much does my husband rock even though he's a pain in the ass??
I was whining about the fact that I can't seem to lose weight (too much good food out there) when Milton (female) asked, "When do you weigh yourself?" I said first thing in the morning.
Then I was walked down a road I hadn't known existed and frankly would have been happy ending my life without being made aware of it.
Milton: I weigh myself naked first thing in the morning then again after my bowel movement then again after I take a shower. It usually gives me a varying weight of about 2 pounds.
… … … … …
When I picked myself off the floor, I noticed a bump on my head. Sadly, it didn't make me forget what I had just learned.
♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠•♠♠• You know how I'm always saying rainbows and butterflies follow me around wherever I go? Check this perfect rainbow inside my house.
You will never doubt me again, will you?
I decided not to live blog my birthday. I'm going to have a busy day and not even I can type so many swear words that quickly.
I have one favor to ask. It's little, minuscule, wee!
Click on the box below to vote for your favorite blogger. (ME!) See? I'm cheap! In case you are looking for me, I am in the *Personal Life* category. Men, I leave you with Heidi Klum. (Just want you to know I felt a little dirty watching that video.)(then I got up and ate some cake)(which explains why I can't lose weight)
... well, he didn't say anything because he's a dog but he did look at me funny.
Do they even have doggy rehabs centers??
I discovered that Tazz is a huffer. Whenever I'm cleaning the bathroom, he likes to follow me in and snort/lick the air. This forces me to close the door so he won't get sick but now I'm inhaling the toxic fumes and making myself see brightly colored mosquitoes strumming their guitars. I'd be okay with that if they weren't singing country songs. COUNTRY SONGS for craps sake!! I don't need that in my crazy world!
Anyway, I've learned to live with Tazz's idiosyncrasies like him trying to rearrange the floor before he lays (lies?) down. How he feels only he can defend you from the forces of evil and tries to make you stay home by tearing a piece of your calf.
But when he shoves me out of the way so he could snort at the bug spray I spray on my patio? That is just too much!
Tazz mid attack.
There was a lady I worked with who would sometimes want to eat chalk. She said it was because her system lacked petroleum or magnesium or sulfur not sure which but she claimed that was why she would sometimes chomp down on sidewalk chalk. Hey, I don't judge (much) but what could Tazz possibly be lacking that he wants to eat toxic chemicals??
This is in no way meant to be a funny post. I am sad and upset so I need to rant and purge so that I may move on with my life. I hate dwelling on shit I cannot change and this has been consuming so much of my life recently that it needs to be taught who is boss and kicked out of my head.
Please don't think I'm asking for pity since I don't like anyone feeling sorry for us. Lifeis, it happens and you just have to deal with it.
I just want to enlighten people so they won't get royally screwed like we did. Okay, we didn't get ROYALLY screwed because it could have been worse but we did get dumped on. As you guys know, we suffered the consequence of IKE all the way up in the Midwest. Our town was one of the ones flooded and even the news people said "do not come here if you don't need to". The footage on TV was a guy standing knee deep in water at the corner near our house.
We woke up to that mess and even though we were feeling the impotency of the whole situation, what kept us sane was knowing we had insurance. And we thought a good insurance provider. American Family Insurance is not some rinky two bit operation.
When we bought the home owners insurance and found out we needed a mandatory flood policy, we were also asked if we wanted to purchase additional benefits in case of a flood. That way we could replace our damaged items. Being the newbie home owners, we said hells ya'! If something happens we want to be covered to our teeth.
Here is where the newbie part comes in. Are you ready? The policy says that if the flood insurance covers you, they YOUR HOME OWNERS are then void.
Uh-huh.
So… our homeowners denied us ANY HELP but our flood insurance might give us money for repairs and their estimates are, of course, lower than expected. They are only allowing for the repairs and rebuilding because any items we may have lost (clothes, shoes, comforters, furniture, electronics, kitchen cabinets, tub) are not covered under the flood insurance. Why? BECAUSE WE HAVE A HOME OWNERS POLICY.
You see how that works? I have to be honest and say I didn't see that coming. Maybe I'm more naïve than I thought. Here I thought I was wise to the world of fucktards but nope. They keep surprising me by shiving me when I'm not looking.
Okay. So we called here and there trying to get them to reconsider. The flood insurance guy (who was very nice and I'm sure just doing his job) suggested I apply for FEMA relief since my county had been declared a disaster area.
Yay! Some hope?
Well, you know what happens when you stand outside and wish upon a star? Some bird decides your face makes a good landing pad for his shit.
We received a denial from FEMA on Thursday because we do not have enough damage to our home and they state our flood and homeowners should be enough.
This is not enough damage. This is just mild, a fresh coat of paint will do ya', damage:
LOOK MA'! NO WALLS!
Sorry about the quality but I took them with Scarlett. Everything down there is trashed. We threw out bags and bags of her things.
We had 3 different people come and inspect the place. They all took pictures.
I know our damage was nowhere near as bad as others. I know we're blessed to have a roof over our head and some money (maybe because we still have not seen any of it) for rebuilding. It could have been worse. I know.That is the only thing keeping me sane NOW. We had some cold days here where we were freezing because one of the things we could not replace was our furnace. I'm lucky to be married to such a great electrician who has many other hobbies. Like carpentary, dry-walling and now furnace repair. We now have heat which is lucky since it's 30 degrees right now.
This situation has been stressing Andy, my mom and I. We have been jumpy and snarky with each other the past few weeks which is unfair to take it out on one another but who else is there? Oh yeah, the fuckers at the insurance companies.
We will be switching insurance carriers so if anybody has had a good experience with theirs, please let me know.
Moral of this story:
Check your insurance policy to find out exactly what you're covered for. If you notice anything unusual or something you can't understand, call your agent and don't be afraid to ask about what's troubling you. We learned our lesson the hard way and I feel bad for our next agent because he will have to deal with a burnt-out witch but I have to look out for me and mine so other people's feelings are just going to have to suck it.
Oh and they can also fuck off.
***side story**
I can't help myself so please be a witness to one of Andy's and mine argument.
Andy: BEE!! I can't log-in to Outlook Express to access my hotmail.
Bee [from the other room]: So? Go online and get it from there!
Andy: I CAN'T!! I DON'T REMEMBER MY PASSWORD! I TRIED TO RESET IT BUT IT'S NOW ASKING ME QUESTIONS I DON'T KNOW!
he comes to hover over me like I have the answer to all his problems
Bee: What?? I don't know your password!
Andy: FIX IT!
Bee [tired of his attitude and tone]: That is not my problem. I can access my account so I really don't give a shit.
Andy: You are such a jerk! [stomps off]
Bee [calmly eating a pomegranate] Yep. I'm an asshole and a bitch too.
I continue to hear him grumbling. So I decided to see if I can crack his code. These were the questions that stumped him
City you live in Pet's name.
Yeah, a couple of humdingers!
I was able to reset his password so I calmly went over to his room and gave him the great news. I walked him thru opening a new tab and typing hotmail on the address bar. He then typed in his e-mail address and waited for me to give him the new password:
IAMAFUCKINGIDIOT
THAT did not go over well.
He then threatened to change my password to "IAMANASSHOLE" but I'm not worried. Nina Simone - Feeling Good.
Some people do not understand how fragile my self esteem is. Sure, I know I'm always giving the "I'm a badass!" vibe but deep down, I hurt just like the rest of you.
Imagine how upset I was when I logged into my NaBloPoMo account only to find they were either living in the future or I am in fact a year older than I thought.
Yes, I am a female.
No.
I AM35! I am not 36 yet!
I checked my birth certificate and it says November 11, 1972. (I'm getting old so I can't always trust my memory)
I did make sure I had the right year in my profile. Yup One Nine Seven Two. I don't know what cockamamie system they're using but they are ahead ONE whole year! Maybe they can tell me if I'll be in jail sometime next year.
Men, so that you can understand how we women feel when we're told we look older, it's like being kicked in the crotch. Ouchy.
Do you see my rosy cheeks? Can you hear my girlish giggles?
I, ladies and gents, have ARRIVED! You know you've hit the big time when you get insulted by ---wait for it--- FRANCE!
Yeah! And I was called "chaildeesh" that is how I'm pretending they said it. Of course, it might just be an American in France but for the purposes of this post, we will say it is a French person.
Demeda, took exception to my tighty whitey post and called me, little ole' Bee from Chicago, CHAILDEESH! Um hello? I don't think that's really news to anybody, right? Hey Demeda, if you, your spouse, your dog, your cat, your hamster are into tight, constricting, bulge defining underwear, more power to you.
Don't let a silly post like mine make you feel self-conscious and/or STOOPIT.
I hope I didn't insult him/her/it! Please come back Demeda. Please??
♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠ Convo between me and Andy while on our way to my brother's house for dinner.
Andy: Uh, no. I was too busy defending the world from evil creatures. [or something like that]
Bee: Well check it out when we get home. The chick had plumbers crack but I googled a picture of Uranus and I covered her butt crack.
Andy: What? Like the PLANET URANUS??
Bee: ... ... ::blink:: No, YOUR ANUS! Yesthe planetUranus!! Do think I sit around waiting for the perfect picture opportunity to take a picture of YOUR ANUS??? More importantly, would I find your anus on google??
Andy: I don't know what you do once I fall asleep!
Dear God did I laugh for about a half hour! Incidentally, my mom was in the car too. She must think we're a couple of weirdos.
Okay! Now I'm off to find the cure for all that ails us. Later mis amigos!
P.S.
To Brian, the system Demeda used was Linux. Just wanted you to be aware of the type of people you run with.
P.P.S.
No offense to Suzy whose mother is French. I'm sure she's very nice.
I typed "plumber" in google images and this came up. It did show her butt crack but since my blog is rated PG (WTF??) I decided to cover it up with a picture of Uranus. You're welcome.
I don't give a shit if you're Barney the purple dinosaur, if you get pulled over for speeding, you should get a ticket just like the rest of us!
When I got pulled over for going *cough20cough* miles over the speed limit, I didn't whip out the "I'm a Brown's Chicken worker and have access to tasty entrées and side dishes"!
I'm not saying I'm an angel and follow all the rules of the road (if you are a law enforcement officer in the state of Illinois, of course I follow all laws and rules! I'm just teasin', silly! We good, right? Would you like some tasty entrées or side dishes??) but if I get pulled over for breaking the law, I put on my big girl panties and take my lumps (uh, how about we leave this one alone and not make any overly suggestive remarks?). I personally don't think they should have let him go just because he's Joe the plumber.
If Andy ever gets pulled over (in the name of all good, evil and wishy-washy gray matter that can't make up its mind what side its on, may this never happen), I'm gonna tell him to pull the "But I'm Andy the Electrician!" if they don't let him go with a warning, so help me I'll raise the dead from all the screaming I'll be doing!
If they don't let you guys go, give me a jingle and I'll come to your rescue.
***Disclaimer, only valid in the US since rules in the land of those who made us might be different. Also, Bee's Musings does not encourage you to break the law. Please drive with caution and on the defensive. But not like the Chicago Bear's defense because they suck.
P.S. I love my new haircut. I really do. There is only one drawback. Or should I say six? Every single one of the bats had to touch my hair because I didn't straighten it, just left it curly to see how it looked (yup, my hair is naturally curly, I know you're jealous too but there's nothing I can do about your raging jealousy so let's not mention it again, okay?). They had to come over and touch it because it "looks so soft" HAVE WE NOT LEARNED ANYTHING FROM MY SPACE INVADERS POST???
P.P.S. What do you guys think of me live blogging my birthday?? It's on Tuesday so I'll be at work but it might be interesting... maybe??
Does anybody else hate being the designated candy giver? I don't know how you yourself are with Halloweeners but I personally can't fake the "oh, you look so cute!" which is the mandatory exclamation when kids come to your house trick or treating. Usually, it's my sister who "oohs and ahs" over the kids as she gives out the candy but this year, she had to prepare for a road trip to Texas so she was all "Sorry Bee. I have to pack and get the girls ready for a cross country trip so I won't be able to help you."
I know! How selfish of her!
So there I am, handing out candy to little people in costumes. I don't know who was more frightened, the kids because they were being subjected to a silent house frau or me who was confronted with that that I fear the most, children.
A few teenagers showed up at my house with their "costumes" consisting of black and white paint on their faces, regular clothes and pillow cases for their candy. That was fine and good until they tried to dig their hands into the candy bowl. I had to lay the smack down a few different times and tell them to mind their fookin manners! You don't go to another person's house and manhandle their candy dish! What is wrong with the teenagers of today? They have no respect for anybody.
Anyway, at about 8:45, I decided to close up shop and put a blanket over the window panels on my front door. If there were any teenage stragglers coming for treats, they wouldn't be able to see me laugh as I ate the last few Reese's peanut butter cups.
Saturday night, Andy dragged me to the grocery store. He said I couldn't be left alone or I might just wind up locking myself in the bathroom again. Usually, I stomp through the aisles and complain about how long it's taking but this time I needed 2 very important things that only I new how to buy (seriously). OXY (the pimple cream) for the stupid pimples that are now marking their territory on my face and lotion for the extra dry skin that comes with old age.
What does it say about me that I was ecstatic when I found out OXY was buy one get one free?? How pathetic is it that I "woohoo'd" in the middle of the anti-wrinkle/blemish aisle causing one lady to grab her cart and roll away from me?
Then!
My euphoria committed suicide when I saw my special anti-itch-extra-dry-skin-old-lady lotion was -------- wait for it -------- TWELVE DOLLARS!
Did they ground up baby seals and snow leopards into my lotion? I could probably feed a family of 6 (dogs) with $12. And have $2 leftover for ice cream (dogs can't eat ice cream so it would obviously be for me).
While we were waiting to pay, I saw this picture of Jennifer Aniston with the following caption: "Jen looks pregnant. Is that why she got back together with John Mayer?" And then they circled her tummy (because if they circled her leg, we would all be confused).
<--They call that a pooch??
Maybe she'd just eaten a big burrito! That's another reason why I can never become a movie star. The paparazzi would be all over me every month and I would have a perpetual circle around my stomach with captions like "When will she ever give birth?" "Is she expecting twins?" "How much for that doggy in the window?"
Men are lucky! When they're bloated, nobody assumes they'll be dropping a litter in a few weeks.
ΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘ
On a different kind of note.
I've noticed people have been de-linking me from their blogrolls. I don't know if it's because of my foul language or because I now have short hair and they're anti-short-hair-ites but it hurts, people. It cuts deep into places of my soul I only visit when I'm feeling holy. Watch me squeeze out a tear... okay...... here.... it.... comes.....
Alright, I'm just kidding. I understand how it would be impossible to keep up with the awesome that is me.
If somebody has me on their blogroll and I don't have you on mine, please leave your link in comments so that I may add it now. I'm going to be making two separate pages. One showcasing my many many many awards and another one with my lengthy blogroll kind of like how Marie from Memarie Lane has hers. With a little snippet as to why people should stalk your blogs. P.S. Not to sound too demanding but... if you're wondering what to get me for my birthday, I want a baby seal and a snow leopard. Andy won't get them for me. Something about dangerous blah blah but he's always been a killjoy. P.P.S. To those of you who asked why I had my cellphone in the bathroom with me when I took a shower, what if there's an emergency?? It's also my clock/alarm and it goes off every 10 minutes reminding me I have to go to work. I carry my phone wherever I go.
