The great jean adventure of 2010.

How far would you go for a great pair of jeans? More importantly, how many people would you drag into your web of obsession?

It all started last Thursday when I *innocently* went to ACS on my day off to try on clothes for our great 41% employee discount event Sunday. The plan was to put aside what I was going to buy and then mosey on out so I could get home to my man making me dinner.

Instead. INSTEAD! I stumbled upon a great denim sale that I needed to take advantage of LIKE RIGHT NOW because it would be over by Sunday so instead of getting $15 jeans at 31% off, I would get $42 jeans at 41% off so the math told me I HAD to get them on Thursday. I tried on this awesome pair but sadly (not really because it's also awesome) they were too BIG. I went to look for a smaller size but it wasn't there. I did what all logical women have done throughout the ages and bought them anyway. Maybe they'll shrink in the wash?

On Friday, I called in sick to the Asylum and somehow convinced my sister to go on a wild jean hunting safari where we would hit a couple of ACS' sister stores but there was one catch. I cannot step foot into another ACS store as an ASC employee because it would mean immediate termination. Don't ask me why because I have already asked and nobody has given me an answer. The plan was for my sister to walk into the store, without the receipt because it would have my name and my discount information, then ask to exchange them for a smaller size. Unfortunately none of the stores we hit had my size which made me weepy and hungry. After a delicious 5 Guys burger, I made the decision to just keep the jeans and maybe invest in a belt.

I wore the jeans on Saturday and they were just too big and sliding off my butt! My manager J decided to call a few different stores to see if they would have my size and she would go and pick them up for me and do a *store trade off* but we had no luck.

I resigned myself to the idea that I would have to take my awesome cheap jeans to a tailor and wind up paying designer prices but you have to do what you have to do for great jeans.

On Monday, I told my sad tale to Margara who took it upon herself to call every store no matter how far and she succeeded! Woohoo, right? Weeeeell...

It turns out the store was about 30 miles away in a very high traffic area and they would only hold the jeans for 24 hours. What to do? What. To. Do? I immediately sent 2 texts. One to my sister, and loyal ally, and one to my Andy. My sister immediately responded with "when do you wantta go?" and my Andy was silent.

Now the next decision would be critical for my happiness. Do I take a gamble that they would hold the jeans until Saturday? Should I risk my sister and I driving to a town we've never been and possibly getting lost and never to be heard from again? Should I try to bribe Andy with ice cream and cheeky bikinis?

I called ACS in Bufu and gave them a sob story about how far I was, how I was desperately trying to find a way to get to my precious jeans and how I had called a bazzilion stores with no luck so they took pity on me and said they'd hold them for me until Thursday. Score! But it was still not Saturday.

I got home on Tuesday, sad and a little broken and told Andy about my oh so close prize. He looked at me lovingly (maybe) and said we'd go Wednesday.

And we did go Wednesday, today, and we had no traffic and we only got lost 3 times and Andy only had to flash his blue eyes to sweet talk the women into exchanging the jeans without a receipt (while I paced in the parking lot because I not only cannot go into the store, but I had to give them a different name for them to hold the jeans and I could not be seen) which he did brilliantly because my man is hot.

And here is my prize.  

The picture does  not do them justice because they look awesome on me! In a smaller size! Woohoo!

I thank all the people that made it possible.  

I have a coupon and I'd like to buy some panties, please!

Who has 2 thumbs and has lost 20 pounds so she needs a belt to keep her pants up in order to avoid accidental mooning?? THIS GIRL!

Yeah, that's right. I've lost the equivalent of 4 five pound bags of sugar. Or 10 two pound bags of sugar. Or 40 half pound bags of sugar. Phew! That's a lot of math!

It's been a slow process because I'm not fadding it this time(doing any fad diets that have you eating only orange colored foods) and I'm just being careful with what I eat and am trying to be more active. 

My self esteem has gone up to a point where I don't cringe when I walk by a mirror and actually bought a full length one for my home.

Some of the things I'm doing to improve the way I view myself is to actually wear things that make me feel good. In this case I'm referring to sleepwear and underwear. For sleepwear, I usually had some fleece pajama bottoms and whatever t-shirt was too scraggly to wear out in public. There is technically nothing wrong with this boudoir attire but they made me feel frumpy and shapeless. It really has nothing to do with who sees me looking frumpy because Mocha and Tazz don't seem to care and the only way Andy would notice is if I was trying to steal his super sonic Orc powers. I just got tired of feeling so. . . blah!

What I didn't realize is that if you go to bed looking like a shapeless sack of rutabagas, you will wake up FEELING like a shapeless sack of rutabagas with heartburn.

Once I made my decision to makeover my sleepwear, I went on a nightgown shopping spree and stocked my closet. Don't get the idea that I went out and bought see-through tata showing negligees because I wouldn't be able to afford a single strap (how can things that have such few fabric be so expensive) and also because bedtime is for sleeping, not hooking ;o) but the ones I bought are pretty and feminine which means I wake up feeling like a woman instead of George Costanza.

The added bonus is that my legs get really hot in the spring/summer so now I am able to kick of the blankets without having to pull up my pant legs. What can I say? I'm weird.

As for the underwear, I decided to nix the granny panties. Sorry men folk, this might be too much info for you but the ladies might want to hear this. Because I *felt* like a whale in people clothes, I didn't see a point to buying frilly or cute underwear. I would walk into a store, locate their full coverage bottoms, pick some neutral colors and pay.

My mom and I were shopping the other day and I mentioned the fact that I was no longer going to wear the BIG panties and she's like "what's the difference? Nobody sees them anyway" and she's right. I am the only one that sees my underwear (oh yeah, and Andy sees them too. When he's swatting them away to take a shower)(and Andy's brother when Andy forgets to put them away after I've washed them and hung them to dry!!) but knowing I'm wearing something other than potato sacks gives me that extra shot of confidence.

The last couple of weeks, I've bought underwear with names like *hipster* *girl short* and *cheeky bikini*. Which brings me to my panty buying adventure.

I had received a coupon via email for a store called Fashion Thug. The coupon was for buy $25 and you get $10 off. I had seen some of their panties online but, not having any knowledge on how their sizes ran, I decided to go into a store and look at them in person before I labeled my ass a size that maybe wishful thinking (too small a size) or Chaz Bono's twin (too big a size). I walked into this store and located the undergarment section. After much hemming and hawing (no way am I trying on underwear)(Especially because I know how many people touch them ICK!) I asked for assistance.

Me: Hey there! I have a couple of questions and also am looking for some advice.

Disenchanted employee: Yeah? What's up?

Me: Well, I'm a size PURPLE in jeans but I'm not sure how that translates to underwear, can you help me?

DE Stares at me for a few seconds so I'm wondering if she heard me.

Me: Uh? Did you understand?

DE: Yes I'm just trying to figure it out. [face gets squinty kinda like mine does when I'm doing hard math] I think you'd be size LILAC then.

Me: Oh, okay. [unfold LILAC sized panties and inspect them] Well, these seem a little on the larger side [in my head I'm thinking I can fit both my legs into one leg hole] do you find that people usually go a size smaller on the *hipster* style?

DE: ::silence silence silence silence silence silence:: I. Don't. Know.

Let's pause there for a moment. As you may be aware, I now work in a clothing store where I get felt up and flashed on a regular basis. I don't appreciate that type of a customer but when one asks me bizarre questions without being all grabby, I will gladly help them out. I know this chick must have been thinking I was a nutcase for not knowing what size underwear I was but in my defense I'VE BEEN WEARING GRANNY PANTIES! In my former granny panty wearing life, I was like "the bigger the better!" now I was looking for help in getting the right fit. Did I ask her to measure my tuckus? No! All I wanted was some guidance!

Me: Okay then.

I picked out 2 hipster in a smaller size, or MAGENTA, and then I picked a couple of *cheeky bikinis* sized LILAC.

Me: I have a coupon for $10 off of $25 and the panties are 4 for twenty, do you have a clearance section where I can buy another $5 worth of stuff?

DE: The panties are $10 each if you don't buy the 4.

Me: I figured which is why I asked for a clearance section. [I look around] Oh there it is!

DE: [her look says she is checking my math] But you can use it if you spend $40.

At this point I'm tempted to just drop everything and run out the door but I HAVE A COUPON DAMMIT!

Me: But I don't *want* to spend 40 I want to spend 25.

DE: [shrugs and shakes her head as if to say 'I tried but you're too stupid' then walks away]

I found a necklace that was on clearance and so I was ready to check out. As she was ringing me up, she reluctantly scanned the coupon and I believe she was waiting for the computer to beep beep beep further confirming my dumbassness but when the transaction went through she said "Oh! It accepted the coupon!" and then I wondered what the requirements were to work there. I'd be their star employee!

This is a picture of a giant pickle.

Yep. Another BOOB post! I cannot make this crap up.

I was at ACS ringing up a couple of ladies when one of them says to me:

First lady: She's lost 40 pounds! [points at her friend]

Me: Congrats!!

S L: Heeey! [does booty dance then stops suddenly and looks at me sadly] I can't seem to get rid of my breasts and butt though!

Me: Well, I'm sure your husband doesn't mind! ::wink::

S L: Pffft! I'm gonna get them reduced and he can either love me without them or leave me! I already have someone lined up in case he leaves me!

Both ladies laugh and so do I because what is there to say to infidelity?

S L: I like your boobs though, they're perfect! What size are they?

Me: ::stutter stutter:: what? Huh? Size Purple? [yeah, that's right. I always say size PURPLE]

S L: Yeah, there up high, perfectly round and look really good on you. You have some perfect breasts! [looks at me in appreciation]

Me: huhn huh ::blushes:: Thanks but I can't take credit for their alignment since the bra I'm wearing is doing all the work. If I take it off they'd be fighting for position down by my belly button.

S L: [laughs] What kind of bra do you have on?

I tell her.

S L: I don't like their bras. The ones I buy are great but they're a hundred dollars.

Me: Oh? What kind are they? [happy to have steered the conversation away from my breasticles]

S L: Intimates and I love this one I'm wearing now [LIFTS HER BLOUSE TO REVEAL HER BRA] I love the way it fits [SLIDES HER HAND UP AND DOWN HER BOOB!!!] [DID I MENTION IT WAS ALL LACE????] I would never buy another kind.

Me: [face contorted in shock]

My manager J walks to the registers and looks at me as if to ask "why is this woman flashing you?" and I telepathically tell her I'm scared and she responds with "do you need me to help you? maybe get you some water?" and then she walks away. I'm assuming to get me water.

Me: Yes well very nice. [and I know somewhere Andy's head is exploding because he's missing a woman flashing her boobs at his wife]

We talk a little more and as they're leaving, she says to me "nice getting to know you!".

Me (to J): What the hell do I look like? People's personal little toy who they can flash and grab?

J: I was like 'why is this woman exposing her chest?' and then I had to walk away before I bust a gut laughing at the expression on your face!

Me: Thanks for helping me there.

J: I was figuring you were enjoying the view.

Me: I tried to look away but there was nowhere to look that didn't have a boob view. . . She said I had perfect breasts. [I say sheepishly] so I guess it's all good.

I don't think anybody will ever tell this woman another secret

Sometimes I miss the old fashioned gentlemen-ness of life

I'm sitting at the reception desk while Cowardly Lion is at lunch. An older gentleman and his wife walked in for an appointment and his first comment to me was "Little girl, why do you look so sad?" and I replied "I'm not sad at all. I'm dancing on the inside!" and I smiled.
He looked at me for a little while then said "Well I hope you have a nice fella dancing in there with you." and for some reason, who the fuck knows why, that made me weepy!

Somebody give me a slap before I turn into a mushy chick!

I think I managed to save myself though because I let him know that today's dance was a solo act. He laughed.

The best way to celebrate an anniversary is with a ROAST!

So today is my(mine?) and Andy's anniversary. For those of you keeping track, that is 9 years of marriage. NINE YEARS! I don't think there's a couple alive that has been married this long!

Okay, I know I joke about the fact that it seems like a lifetime but in reality, I can't ever say I've felt like "Wow! I've been with ONE guy all of this time?" because I was never a whore before I got married and it's mean of you to think so.

You may be wondering what the secret to our marriage is. What is it that keeps us hanging around day after stressful day and night after sleepless night?

There are some crazy farfetched theories out there that state the key ingredients are communication (communication shmunication! The only communication you should have with your spouse should be things like 'pass the biscuits' or 'move because that bus is going to nail you'. DO NOT talk about things like your feelings and other nonsense! I mean, what are you? A woman?) and sex (sex shmex! who needs the *slap and tickle* when you can have a night of restful, uninterrupted sleep? People need their sleep for balancing purposes. You know, because the next day they may be on a 12ft ladder or walking around in 4 inch heels?) but no, they are all wrong! I owe it to you, my friends, to list a few of the secrets I have compiled that make our marriage such a success.

First I'm going to start with SURPRISE and sometimes the harsher SHOCK. Yep. SURPRISE/SHOCK.

Let me explain what I mean when I say Surprise/Shock. I don't mean 'hey, I just bought you a diamond ring' type of surprise and I don't mean 'I found this hooker outside so I'd thought I'd bring her in from the cold nasty rain but my penis accidentally fell inside her' type of shock. It's more like this:

On Valentine's Day, Andy brought me a dozen roses. I was surprised that he forgot I don't celebrate V-Day and he was shocked that I don't like roses. Sure, we've only touched on the subject a bajillion times but there you have it. It's like we barely met and so this helps us keep the *oldness* out of our relationship so that it seems *new*. And *new* is the new *happy*.

Every night, when 10:30 approaches, I'm still shocked that Andy says "Its bedtime" knowing. how. much. it. IRRITATES. ME. and he'll still be surprised I'm not ready for bed at 10:30 (because I'm not a chicken who needs to be up at the crack of dawn so that the rooster won't come and beat it with a tire iron).

But there are other things you can do to keep your marriage jacked up on L - O - V - E.

Using terms of endearment goes a long way in ensuring your spouse feels loved. Why, Andy calls me "Asshole" all the time and it's like a soft caress inside my heart. Or maybe that's just my blood pressure again. Who knows? I guess I'll find out if I ever keel over one day but even then it'll be because of love!

Making loving comments also helps the marriage. Just the other night I said, "If we had separate bedrooms, I could go to bed without fearing you'll wake me up from a sound sleep when you're done raiding wooglies." and he responds "Bee, if we have separate bedrooms, we might as well not be married" Awww what a beautiful thought to have before sinking into a deep sleep where I dream of shredding roses and Valentine's Day massacre.

Also! Doing cute things like pointing out her lip hair helps too. And asking her questions like "what's going on here??" as he points and she thinks he's pointing at her head like he wants to know what she's thinking and just when she's about to confess her fears, her wishes, her dreams, he points again and asks "what's that thing on your face? Is that a pimple?" and she respond "thanks for pointing it out buttnut because I hadn't realized it was there!" and then he asks "are you serious? you didn't know it was there or are you being sarcastic?" and then she respond "of course I hadn't noticed something as big as my fist sitting on my face!" and then he puts his fist up to her face to compare sizes and offers to squeeze it for her. Because we women are not self conscious about slight imperfections, that right there makes us feel cherished, loved and not at all uncomfortable. Walking around the rest of the day with our hand covering said pimple is only so that it won't get sunburned.

Oh! Having nothing in common also works! For example, sometimes Andy and I will be sitting next to each other, NOT COMMUNICATING, while I listen to some old school Billie Holiday from my iphone because I love music of all kinds and he'll be listening to a World of Warcraft podcast on his iphone because he has no music downloaded. He can apparently go the rest of his life without music which baffles my mind because I sleep with the radio on, take a shower with the radio on, work with the radio on, drive with the radio on, dance/argue/fish/eat/drink/burp/sing/laugh and the radio is on on ON!

After rereading some of my *tips*, I've realized I've left out what I do for our marriage. Or my contribution to marital bliss, if you will.

I guess I can be described as a reasonable, loving woman. I shouldn't be to blame if you try waking me up before it's absolutely necessary for me to get up and I wind up screaming like a deranged banshee. I don't care if you're waking me with kisses! Don't you know I didn't sleep well because somebody's knee was practically up my bumhole?? Do you want me to be Grumpy and Sleepy rolled into one and risk me having a car accident?

See? Totally reasonable.

Let's see, I'm also an understanding person. For example, if I want 2 pairs of shoes but I'm told I can only have one, I then might say something like "you know what? how about I just don't buy any?? WILL THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY??" because I want what's best for our relationship. And in the end I may end up with 3 pairs of shoes but that's only because my tantrum was beautifully executed in front of dozens of people and to not please me would be dishonorable.

I know what you're thinking "Bee, you and Andy should maybe see a marriage counselor" but to that I say "Why fix what aint broke?" If this relationship has lasted a whole 9 years, chances are it'll last a whole 9 more and, in dog years, that's like TEN lifetimes.

Besides, our differences are what will have us continue to live happily ever sometimes.

All kidding aside, I lucked out finding Andy. I'm thankful I was the one to see what a great man he would turn out to be. Sure, there are days we make each other gorilla shit crazy. But there are other days where we have so much fun it's hard to believe we're adults in charge of dogs and everything. We've had some tough times only witnessed by each other. Things we had to deal with and go through on our own that left some internal battle scars but in the end we have overcome and/or made up and moved on because, ultimately, we're friends first.

Friends who would rather chop off an arm (somebody else's arm) rather than hurt each other.

Friends who get really pissed at stupid things but then laugh at the ridiculesness of the arguments  so that they're easily diffused.

Friends who don't let each other drive drunk in the automobile of L - O - V - E.

You can quote me on that, suckas!

 

Happy Anniversary, babe! And thanks for putting up with the psycho that is me!

Picking a movie to celebrate wedded bliss is serious business.

So, this coming Friday, April 16th, is the anniversary of my marriage to one Andy Husband.

We are planning on having a whole weekend celebration where we will go to dinner and a movie AT NIGHT TIME. With all the young folk! We were undecided as to what to see because, it being our anniversary, we wanted it to be something we both wanted to watch. The movie should have a hint of romance too, I guess?

These were our choices:

Death at a Funeral (the American version)-

Starring Chris Rock and that dude from Martin.

The movie looks wildly entertaining but the down side is that, while there is eye candy for men, I have never been attracted to Chris Rock and Martin makes me pukey so there would be no eye candy for *me*.

Kick Ass-

A comic book movie. Need I say more? Okay.

I am not a fan of comics but my Andy is so this would be totally one sided. And did Nicolas Cage ever get his face back after Faceoff or did he just keep the mask they used in the movie?

Date Night-

With Tina Fey and Steve Carrell. Two of the funniest people alive as far as I'm concerned.

On paper, it looks like the perfect movie. A husband and wife trying to rekindle some feeling, love maybe?, and hijinks ensue. The only problem with this movie is that it's also scary. I mean, it's about a married couple that rarely ventures out into the late night and all they want to do is have a nice evening. Maybe have some wine and play a little footsie under the table but instead, THEY ARE CHASED BY BAD GUYS! Yes, there is a flash of Mark Wahlberg's abs which would make it a pro but they also show his face so that would be a con. Anyway, I'm afraid this movie will knock our new found confidence of walking into the dark without our fluorescent headbands back on its ass where we will land on our sofa thanking the lord we don't have to go out again until next year.

and last but not least,

Clash of Titans-

 
Staring some very good looking people. So this movie has something for me

and something for Andy.

It has romance and fight scenes and hot guys and hot girls and it's a remake of one of my favorite movies of all time. Sure, the old movie is totally dated and the special effects look like something you can find in the driveway after it rains but the story is one I wouldn't mind seeing again.

Did I mention: 

And that is how we made our decision. Solely based on the attractiveness of the actors.

On Saturday, Andy will be cooking me a special Thai dinner which he has been researching for a few weeks now. We've searched high and low to find such ingredients as Tamarind sauce, Curry leaves and Koala feet. He's also making a special spiced wine pear desert that has me drooling.

When I was telling my mom about the dinner and kinda hinting that the dinner was only for 2 so her and my brother Rick were going to have to fend for themselves on Saturday (because we all usually eat together), she had some suggestions for Andy.

Mom: Tell him to light some candles for you so that it will be more romantic.

I translate her suggestion to Andy.

Andy: Well I was but now it'll be weird because your mom suggested it.

Mom: Tell him to put a heart made out of rose petals on the bed.

Me: MOM!

Mom [hides her face in her hands while giggling uncontrollably]: Hee hee hee! And then tell him to make a path of rose petals leading to the bed! Hee hee hee!

Translate to Andy.

Andy: BWAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!

Me: [dying of mortification inside]

Some of you may have open discussions about your love life with your parents but our motto has always been "Ewww shut up!" and it has worked for us so far but lately my mom has become less shy around us. And it may all be fine and good for the rest of my shameless siblings but I prefer to, oh I don't know, slam my head on a concrete bench?

Besides, my wifely duties are nobody's business but mine. And maybe Andy's.

I just shivered from the heebie jeebies again!

P.S.

Phone conversation with Andy about previous post about Starved Rock and the Hoochie Big Boobed Whore:

Andy: Wow! You really hated having that woman sitting there, huh?

Me: Who? The whore? Not at all babe, I was just exaggerating.

Andy: And by the way, the soda machines was in the opposite direction.

Me: Good because if I would have seen you walking towards Hoochie Big Boobs, I would have tackled your ass. Only maybe not because then you would have landed on her boobs.

Andy: ::dreamy sigh:: Ahh! A soft spot to land.

Me: Here is my advice to you, when you see me, RUN AND HIDE!

Sometimes, I wonder where my posts take a turn to Weirdville.

Andy and I went to Starved Rock this weekend.

We climbed stairs.

 

Laughed at silly warnings.

 

Reenacted said warnings and stood too close to a cliff.

Almost tripped over this huge tree! Where are the warning signs??

 

Found a cave people have been using as a toilet. ::shiver::

 

A guy who was with 3 teenage boys burst their little "cool! we found a cave!" bubble by saying "Boys, that there is human urine!" and it made me giggle.

 

Were completely hypnotized by the breath taking sights.

Oh wait, that wasn't what I talking about. Here it is:

That's not it either! Ah, I found it:

After all the climbing, tripping, and wood smelling, we headed back to the visitors center for some much needed soft serve ice cream. I sat facing the beautiful scenery with my back to the visitor center but something compelled me to turn around (probably Andy's lack of focus?) and that's when I noticed the woman in a tube top dress who kept readjusting the girls, waiting for... her client?

 

I swear she sat like that for about half an hour, probably longer but I finally dragged Andy back to the car after he went to get a ""soda"".

I now regret calling her a whore because she was probably waiting for her priest so she may confess her sins. Or maybe she was waiting for a date so she thought she'd pose for him so he'd get a good look on the way in? Sad. Poor little big boobed floozy whore! I cry for you.

 

 

What? I'm not insecure!

Mannequin vs Bee. Can you tell the difference?

I want to show you guys something.

This is a mannequin (or 2):

This is a Bee:

(I know, awwww!)

One is made out of uh plasticy stuff and filled with sawdust. The other is made of out fleshy stuff and stuffed with bacon. One doesn't mind if you lift up its skirt (perv!) but the other one? The other one kinda likes keeping her goody bits hidden and/or untouched by groping strangers.

Now that we've made the distinction between Mannequin and Bee, and I'm hoping you figured out which one doesn't want to be touched, here's a peak into another one of my bizarre work days at ACS.

Woman: Did you buy these here? [touches my cute black capris with ruched drawstring at the leg area] [SHE TOUCHES ME!!]

Me [trying to step away so that her grubby hand releases me]: Yes.

Woman: Where are they? [goes to reach for me again WTF!]

Me [must resist the urge to slap her hand!]: They are in this section over here but we only have one size left.

Woman: Oh no! That's not my size! [still staring at me, walks around to get a better view of my... ass???] Those look great and the fabric isn't flimsy! [goes to touch me again]

Me [wondering if I can build a moat around myself]: Ma'am, I must ask you to stop touching me. I know I look like one but I am not a mannequin. [big smile because I don't want her to notice I have broken a hanger WITH MY BARE HANDS] 

Woman [seems offended but that's probably because she didn't get to touch my booty]: I just wanted to feel the texture again!

Me [nodding because I've heard that excuse for people wanting to touch me before]: I understand but you can feel the texture from this pair that is sitting on this hanger. Without a person inside of it. I promise they feel the same [big smile because we want her to think the customer is always right and even though love I it when strangers feel me up, maybe we should get some coffee first] Would you like me to call another store to see if they have more sizes?

Woman [touches the person-less capris all the while looking at me longingly]: What size are the ones you're wearing?

Me [squint at her suspiciously]: Size Purple.

Woman: That's the size I need! [gets closer to me]

Me: Before you ask me if you can try them on, [big smile] we also carry them in gray. Would you like to try those on? If they fit, we'll call another store for you.[big smile]

Woman: No, I'll just look online. [walks dejectedly out of the store]

Me: Alrighty then, buh-bye.

I don't know, you guys. I feel a little cheated. Like she got to feel the goods but then skipped out on payment by not buying anything from me. And also? Who does that? Who goes around touching sales staff as if they were part of the store's fixtures? I mean, if she would have been a HE and HE would have been Ryan Reynolds' abs I would have been all "Why of course you can squeeze me!" but we need to set some boundaries for people I don't find attractive to keep their mitts off my petunias!

::drool::

I can't help it if my nephew is cuter than your nephew!

This little guy was born April 7th @ 11:15 weighing more than a chicken at 7 pounds 2 ounces much to the delight of his whole family!

He's got his daddy's lips! :o)

 

Congrats Crazy Ez and little brother Checo!

Unfortunately for me, I won't be able to meet him until this weekend because that stupid part time job I have has scheduled me for everyday this week so I'm in for a lot of LABOR intensive hours. Hee hee! I made a funny. Or I'm tired.

P.S. to my brother and his wife.

I hope this doesn't mean you won't have time for me anymore because that would be very irresponsible of you guys! I was here first!

Because my friend jean knee complained I didn't have enough boobs in my last post...

I was rearranging my closet (AGAIN!) and carefully putting away my shoes by style, color, and awesomeness, when I came across an unusual tag in my shoe box:

 

I took a closer look because I was drinking a beer and it wouldn't have been the first time beer fooled me:

But it said exactly what I thought it said. They put this tag in my shoe box to protect me from mold? I don't even know what to say.

After feeling safe and full of relief because I was mold free, I decided to hand wash my bras.

In the kitchen sink much to Andy's horror.

Andy: You're gonna wash them where?

Me: In the kitchen sink! Why? Does that offend your delicate sensibilities? Do you have a problem with that Mr. Scratchytheballsatthekitchentable?

Andy: Yeah, I have a problem with boob sweat in the kitchen sink!

Ah! Le Amour!

Anyway! I washed them all but I couldn't figure out where to put them as I washed them. Pay attention! This is very important! I decided to grab a disposable tin roasting pan but it was too small to fit them all (not braggin' or nuthin').

But then! Then the beer came through and gave me a fantastic idea!

Stack them like egg cartons! Oh man, Andy's gonna kill me when he sees this post!

After I washed them all, I was at a loss as to where to hang them. I'm assuming all women hang them from their shower rod, am I right? This is my first foray into hand washing the girl holders. I had one problem. My shower rod is approximately 12 feet high and I'm like 5'2ish depending on shoes and weather so I couldn't reach it on my own.

Me: Andy! I need help!

Andy: If I fall to my death, don't tell people I was smothered by your bras, okay?

 

After I took this picture I thought 2 things:

Drippy water to the eyeball is very ouchie.

and

I just washed every bra I owned! I hope they dry by tomorrow!

(It was 10:00pm)

Things I have learned these past couple of weeks:

When you are on the treadmill and you have your earbuds in your ear so you can have audio to the visual of the Kardashians being buttheads, just because you can't hear anything, doesn't mean people cannot hear you. So keep that burp IN!

 

When you join Office Depot's membership rewards program at one of their stores, they will literally send you a welcome email 2 minutes after you've left the store.

 

Your husband, having read your 'jeans that accentuate your butt' post, will try to get out of an argument by saying 'those pants (or TROUSERS in britishspeak) make your butt look great!' and you will go along with it and end the argument even though you know what he's doing because in 11-12 years you have received exactly 5 compliments from him (and one of those compliments was 'this sandwich is delicious!' as if he's surprised) so you take what you can get.

 

You will do just about anything for $8 an hour. Including getting on your hands and knees (get your minds out of the gutter! I'm not finished)(that's what she said!) but you do draw the line at scuffing your shoes:

Margara: We're spring cleaning today and your job is to scrub the base boards throughout the store.

Me: Okay but I'm gonna do it barefoot.

Margara: Uh, no. You can't be barefoot in the store.

Me: Well, these shoes I'm wearing cost more than I make here in 2 weeks so either I take them off or I scuff them and have the store reimburse me.

Margara: Go ahead and take them off.

Me: [nod in approval at her asst. manager skills]

 

When at the gyny, enduring the much hated PROBING, having the doctor say:

Yep! There's your vagina!

Makes an awkward situation even more awkward because you wonder if going to an alley for a gyny exam was such a great idea.

 

I'm sure there's more I learned but when there's beer involved, I'm lucky if I remember my name.