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)

Like your favorite shows, Bee's Musings will also take a break so that all the actors may go on vacation.

Okay, I'm not really going on vacation and neither is Andy, that I'm aware of anyway but the dude likes to keep his secrets. Maybe he has a special door in his dungeon where he escapes to far off lands and meets beautiful buxom wenches. I don't know. Anyway, I've been feeling kinda poopy lately and haven't been getting much sleep so I'm taking a week off. [insert *Awwwwws* here]

I'll see you guys next week and also, Big Fucker Moe died. I'm sure Larry O Pompadour and Curly the Acrobat are sadder than we are but I think just barely.

We'll miss you Big Moe. :o(

Bang update! Ummm... Not THAT kind of bang perverts!

So it turns out my bangs look awesome and I've gotten a lot of compliments... Unless they're lying? Nah!

Anyway, I guess the jagged choppiness looks like I paid mega bucks to have it styled that way. My sister also came over with tweezers and coffee Sunday night to fix my eyebrows and pull the stubble the stupid tiny razor left behind!

And! My mom came home after her 3 week vacation so my world is totally harmonious again.

Well, it would be totally harmonious if Andy the warden would stop cracking the bedtime whip! I didn't have to live with this many rules when I was a kid!

P.S.
If anybody would like me to come over with my kitchen shears and tiny eyebrow razor to give you a makeover, just email me.
For you, no charge!

I remember a time when I could drink more than one beer without turning into Moe from the 3 Stooges.

What separates us from animals is our ability to make decisions (I'm sure there are others but work with me here). Animals usually act on instinct. But us? We question, we rationalize, we hem and haw until a beer takes that decision from our very hands. What does that mean? Well let me tell you.

It all started when I made a delightful dinner of Fettuccine Alfredo and baked chicken legs which I was going to eat ALONE (and we've established that I need to be supervised at all times) because my Andy was at brother Dan's house doing the magical thing he does with electricity.

I set my place setting for one, enjoying the solitude, when I made the decision to forgo my vanilla coke for a beer. Caution to the wind baby! After dinner, I was cleaning up the kitchen and my bangs kept getting in my eyes irritating the ever loving crap out of me! That's when the beer gave me the brilliant idea to trim them a little.

I went to my bathroom and rummaged through the drawers but I couldn't find any scissors. That's when the beer told me to go into the kitchen and grab my kitchen scissors. The ginourmous ones that can cut chicken legs with one snap. The ones I use to cut ninja stars and pennies and anything else that pisses me off!

So I took the scissors into the bathroom with me and as I was brushing my hair, I noticed my eyebrows were a little too bushy. That's when the beer suggested I look for my tiny eyebrow razor and clean them up a little. I removed my glasses, because they were in my way (who needs to see when shaving/cutting?), and I lightly went feep feep with the razor (I have never used) then brushed my hair down and took the SERRATED heavy duty scissors and *trimmed* my bangs.

::sigh::

When I put my glasses back on, OH HOLY BABY SPINACH! One eyebrow looked like I was questioning my sanity (which, hello! I think I should) and my bangs looked like I had let Mocha and Tazz take turns at chewing them off!

That's when the beer told me to do the logical thing and even them both out. Listen, I don't need to tell you there is no happy ending to this story.

I now have crooked bangs the size of eyelashes and receding eyebrows. I'm thinking my only solution is to spike them both and pretend I did it on purpose.

Sadly, this is not the first time I've rocked the the choppy bangs.

Conversation Andy and I had when I told him about my bangs.

Andy: Oh, it can't be that bad.

Me: ...

Andy: Let me see-- ooch! Eets! Wow! Well, it could have been worse. I guess?

 

Oh boy.

P.S.

We are currently having creative differences with our scanner so that is why "Bee n' Andy" has been on hiatus. It refuses to communicate with my laptop and instead wants to be an expensive paperweight-slash-mail-holder. Hopefully, I'll be able to hit the right sequence of buttons and fix it soon.

Those Hobos know all the tricks!

I was driving to the store today, freezing my buttuckcus because the heater was taking its sweet time to blow hot air, and I was wearing my brand new mittens-slash-hobo gloves.

(don't mind my fingers, they've been infected with old age)

I was thinking about how cute they were but also how practical because I didn't have to take them off to work my iPhone or look for my keys (because I look for them by touch) or to scratch my ear because all I had to do was flip the top of them down.

As I was headed towards the store, in search of the perfect birthday card for a wacky friend of mine who will have double the wrinkles next week when he turns THE BIG FOUR-OH, I was also remembering that my pop's birthday was next week too and I was trying to remember how old he was. At that time I had the top of the gloves up like so:

and my hands were on the steering wheel. Since I can never remember how old my pop is, I always think of my age, add 20 years to figure out how old my mom is then go up one because her birthday is in May and then add five years because he's older than my mom. It's a complicated formula I know.

So there I was, trying to add 58 + 5, and knowing how impossible it would be to add those numbers in my head, (pathetic, you say? Screw you, I reply. I just cannot do math in my head.) I visualized the 58 in my head and counted off the next 5 digits on my fingers. Only I couldn't see my fingers because they were hidden in my mittens!

They were hidden! In my mittens! (okay, I don't know why but that just cracked me up) (and yes, I am my number ONE FAN!)

THEY WERE HIDDEN! IN MY MITTENS! HAHAHAHA Still funny.

Anyway, uh I lost my train of thought. Oh right! I looked at my hand and tried to see which finger was 59 and which one was 60 and then I kind of just drifted off and forgot why I was looking at my mitten bending all weird. Then I remembered and tried again but I kept getting stuck at 60! Then the car behind me honked so I had to move on because the light was green and that's when the flashlight went off and I lowered the top part of the mitten and resumed my counting!

Yeah! Another reason those things are awesome! They still let me do simple math!

I guess regular gloves would work for simple math too but they're not useful if you want to stick your hand in the bag of Boston Baked Beans you just bought and put them in your mouth. Well, I guess you can but then your gloves will get soggy.

And that is my *Hobo gloves are awesome* story.

P.S.

Andy just proofread this post and asked if I had spiked my strawberry lemonade then he told me I meant "light bulb" and not "flashlight" because when an idea pops up they show a light bulb. I guess he's right. ::shrug::

Did I mention I haven't been sleeping well?

Showering with Bee. But we're all fully clothed, m'mkay?

I'm not an environmental zealot by any stretch of the imagination but when I hear about something I may easily change about my habits that will help save a polar bear so he may live to eat more evil seals , I make an attempt to adjust my lifestyle.

The other day, while in the shower and listening to the radio, I heard the announcer say that if we all stopped using bottled body wash and used bars of soap instead, it would avoid a gabillion bottles going to landfills. I thought back to my life pre-bottled body wash and had no ill memories so I decided to give it a try.

Tuesday morning was my first day testing this *bar of soap experiment* since my body wash had officially run out. I chose Irish Spring as my soap because I imagined myself frolicking in a secluded spring with a good looking Irishman with strong hands and-uh [clears throat] yeah. I lathered up my wash cloth and was immediately disappointed when it didn't suds up as much as my body wash.

I'm a firm believer in the 'no suds, no clean' theory I made up for when I do laundry and dishes so I applied this same theory to my shower. I kept reapplying the soap to my wash cloth but I was running out of time so I did the best I could with what I had.

As I was rinsing, I immediately felt something abnormal. My skin started tightening. I looked at my arm to make sure it hadn't turned into plastic but it was as fleshy as ever. When I began drying myself, the tightening got worse! I dared not bend over for fear of my skin cracking wide open! I lotion-ed myself up as fast as I could and I instantly felt like those leather chairs that undergo oil treatments to make them all soft and mushy. Ahhh! I was back to normal! But fro how long?

I really don't know if I want to go through that again. I may just give my soap to Andy and look for a more woman friendly bar for myself. Womens out there, do you have any suggestions other than Dove and Caress? I want a soap that'll last me some time and not dissolve in water after the first use.

Later, as I was shellacking on my make up, I heard the radio dudes say that a Beluga whale had given birth and this caused a warm and fuzzy feeling in my tum tum so I was all "Awwww" but then I immediately followed it up with "Son of a bitch!" because this baby whale is 5'4 and 162 pounds which makes it skinnier and taller than me!

 

To recap, my skin now resembles a dried out mushroom and whales are taller and skinner than I am!

Crappy Holidays to me!

 

Just kidding, Santa.

My super cape runeth over and trips me.

As some of you may know, I don't have children... I should clarify and say I don't have children of my own but I am familiar with the species because I see them bouncing off of walls in my house.

Anyway, because I don't have little creatures, of the human variety, I never thought I would have to do things like change diapers (I was wrong!), rush out to the pharmacy to get emergency infants Tylenol (did that last night) and help little ones with homework...

There I was, sittin' on the couch, I had just organized all necessary items in front and beside me to start my post for the evening. Water? Check! Kleenex? Check! TV remote? Check! Laptop on lap? Check and check!! When all of a sudden, my phone rings. My phone that is approximately 100 feet away from where my butt is sitting "curses!" I exclaim but then I shrugged and figured that if it was urgent, they'd call me back. As soon as my phone stops ringing, it starts ringing again. Dang flabbit! Now I have to dig myself out of my little cocoon!

I pick it up and it's my niece Natalia asking for help with her homework. I didn't even hesitate! I picked up my calculator (in case it was math related)(yes she's 6) and ran downstairs to my mom's where she was staying the night.

To my pleasant surprise, she needed help with coming up with sentences for her spelling homework and not the dreaded numbers. Hmmm I hadn't even thought about needing my laptop for spell check purposes.

So I sat down and "helped" this little braniac and didn't even get irritated when she corrected my punctuation (don't forget the period! & Tia Bee, the sentence "I ate too much" needs an exclamation because I want it to say "UGH I ATE TOO MUCH!") and so we finished the third section and then I was informed by little miss sunshine that my services were no longer needed but she would call me when she needed to take her practice test.

I came back upstairs, set my phone next to me and waited patiently.

Half an hour later, I'd paced all over my house and was fighting the urge to call her and see if she still needed me. Would I be rushing her? I finally couldn't stand it any longer so I called my mom. Turns out that, while I was brushing up on my spelling of all words, her daddy had come over to help her. Her daddy who had to get in his car, drive 15 minutes or so in the cold and sleet to come help his little girl do her homework.

Did I hear you guys say "Awwwww!"?? Because seriously that is just Boo! Boo I say!

What am I gonna do with all this extra knowledge??

I went downstairs after I heard Big Tex leave and I confronted her:

Me: Um yeah, I thought you were supposed to call me?

Natalia [trying to look all innocent]: Well, daddy came and he helped me finish and gave me my practice test and everything!

Me: I waited and waited...

Natalia [covering her mouth, probably laughing at me!]: Sorry, Tia Bee. But look! I'm eating the cake you made last night! It's really good!

Me: Don't patronize me!

Natalia [looking at me strangely]: Okaay. I have to go to bed now. Have a good day at work tomorrow.

And then she came and gave me a hug but I know it was just out of pity.

Not cool, people! Not cool at all. 

How deep can a cotton swab go?

So, last week I said I was feeling better and my brain capacity was back and blah blah blah... WELL! I've had a relapse. I blame Cook County Board President Todd Stroger. What an asshole! There. I said it.

I finally had enough and went to see my doctor. Obviously I would need the extra help from special little pills because my beloved Nyquil was not doing the trick (but it has been putting my lights out at night). I left work early (the bats practically shoved my ass out the door) so that Andy could drive me into THE CITY.

Let me tell you something, never EVER tell your doctor that you know FOR A FACT that you don't have XYZ disease because she will look at you sideways and pull out the biggest fucking cotton swab ever made and stick it in your nose! Twice!

 

It went in so deep she was juggling my eyeballs! Then she left the room and came back with a little strip and we watched it for a few minutes until she was satisfied that I was not with swine flu. Yay! The only other time I was that happy was when I peed on a stick and it came out negative.

So she gave me some antibiotics and then asked "Did your husband come with you?" puzzled, I answered that yes he had because I can't drive at night so she then yelled out to Magda something in Polish and next thing you know, Andy and I were ambushed and shot in the arm. It hurt, I won't lie to you but at least now we are sitting in an invisible bubble where the dreaded swine flu will ping ping PING! right off!

Andy was freaking out because he thought he would suffer some unknown side effects, like break-dancing, but he seems to be okay. He was very brave.

P.S.

For those of you doubting the H1N1's powers, we had a beloved member in our family who was infected and it is very scary and real. I personally feel better knowing my Andy and I have been inoculated along with Natalia and my sister. Next up my mom and little Isabella.

 

Self Portraits by Isabella

  

I bought 15 pounds of pork and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Costco has become one of my favorite places to visit on weekends. I know, pathetic. I find myself coming home with enough food, drink and napkins to last us a couple of months. The napkins last longer because who uses napkins?

This weekend, we went for our weekly romantic Costco trip and stumbled across some exciting buys. Above mentioned 15 pounds of pork shoulder mmmmm bring me a fork! A pumpkin pie bigger than a Mac truck's spare tire and 4 pounds of mixed nuts in their shells for only $7.49! It would be a crime not to purchase them.

Andy did have some reservations on all the nutage because he wasn't sure we had a nut cracker (other than yours truly, I mean) so he didn't think it wise for us to buy them, get them home and then have no other recourse but to use them as a fancy decoration because we'd be unable to get to the yummy center.

 I call this "Nuts in a vase, what your mom should have told you about women."

I sadly shook my head and told him this was one of those examples on why growing up in a privileged household may work against him and not allow him to cope with life in the lower class.

Me: Do you think our ancestors had such luxuries as "nut crackers"? No! They used stones to bust their nuts!

Andy [fierce whisper]: Shhhhhhh! Keep your voice down! I am not going to use a rock to eat nuts. I'm no savage!

Me: I will not be silenced! Wanting to survive the winter is not being a savage! Olden days people were proud and honorable! Sure, they pillaged and plundered but then I've seen you eat all the chocolate cupcakes without sharing so who are you to throw stones??

Andy: Just take the nuts. TAKE THE NUTS!!

[a little girl cries out for her mom in fear]

Me: Good going, Andy! You made a little girl cry! Andy?

[Andy has put as much distance between me and my bag of nuts as is possible in a warehouse of oversized items]

Me [to myself]: He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head. I'll show him how to eat these nuts.

Then I walked away because people were staring.

At home, I introduced him to Greta:

 

Tada!

I call this "Crushed nuts, what your dad should have told you about women."

Greta is usually used on those rare occasions when I cook and need to set my stirring spoon down on something other than Andy's head. I think she did a fantastic job, don't you?

P.S.

I also bought some sweatpants (Ralph Lauren @ Costco?) (don't judge me, I live in a cold climate!) and I need to ask if America is turning into a land of giants. My mom normally hems my pants (because I'm 12)(and cheap) so I tried them on so she could see how much she needed to cut and hem. The length she needed to cut? The length of my leg! How is that even possible?

Nyquil Flashback + witness my rockin 90s style.

Me: ::laughing;:

Andy: What's so funny?

Me: I was remembering a scene on Glee when the "Acafellas" were singing "Poison". We were laughing so hard!

Andy: ?? Who were you watching it with?

Me: What?

Andy: You said "we were laughing so hard" I thought you watched it alone.

Me: Oh um yeah. I think. Wait. Who was I talking to?

Andy: Bee, I think you have a Nyquil problem.

Me: No. I'm sure I was talking to somebody!

Andy: Sure you were, babe. Where's your stash?

 

I have no freakin clue why I remember laughing with someone while watching Glee. If I was chatting with you or on the phone with you, please let me know because I need to convince Andy and "it's driving me out of my mind!"

"Acafellas"

 

Here's the Bell Biv Devoe video. The dancing was cheesy but... I cannot believe I used to dress like that! I used to go to "Rave" and buy like 6 of those hoochie stretch skirts for about five dollas.

Old school stylin!

There are very few pictures of me in that era and for that I'm grateful. The humiliation would be too much to bare. However! I did find this little gem which I'm posting because my brain cells are still swimming in medicine and I would never dream of opening that door of shame if I was lucid but you know what? I find the humor in this picture right now.

I have no idea WHY I was ""posing"" (super models of the world, you may breathe easy) but I blame it on the Southern Comfort. Also, why I didn't get closer to the chair so that it wouldn't look as awkward escapes me. I tried cropping it but then it looked like I was floating and that made me laugh and Tazz started barking. I'm assuming he was trying to talk sense into me.

::groan:: It was New Year's Eve so give the shawty a break!

Like those women who can't hold their liquor and then wake up to find they brought home the ugliest guy in the club, I'm sure I'll regret this in the morning.

The *experience* of Nyquil

Nyquil? My Nyquil!

My droopy eyes shine brightly as I struggle with your childproof latch.

I curse the sadistic bastards who designed your container. They mock me!

I push down and turn the lid, nothing!

I blink until my watery gaze focuses on some random diagram...

I immediately notice their trickery!

After years of practice they have changed the rules!

Like all perverted heathens, their new dictum is "pinch and twist"!

Many attempts, and tears,  later, I successfully snap the top off and victoriously hold it up in the air, "In your faces, evil bottle manufacturers!"

My hand shakes, I pour 6 ounces of your emerald liquid into my tumbler.

Overdose? Maybe.

I breathe deeply of your intoxicating aroma, my sinuses clear.

The taste of your bitterness numbs my tongue, I gently swallow.

You coat my throat as you inch your way through my esophagus.

Warming my heart on your journey to my large intestine.

I feel a deep burning sensation as you mix with my stomach acid.

You slowly spread throughout my veins until coherent thought is abandoned...

MUSHROOMS!!

The drowsiness overcomes me instantly.

The need for sleep and a last trip to the bathroom battle inside me.

The fear of wetting the bed is too powerful.

I lumber through the hall, crashing into imaginary vases.

Your influence over me terrifying but... in a non threatening way.

A way that says you will cradle me with the same love a wino protects his last few ounces of Chablis.

As I make my way back to the safety of my bed, my ears start tingling.

Allergic reaction? Probably.

In the far distance, I hear the chimes of antique bells lulling me to sleep.

Hallucinating? Definitely.

My lids, heavy. My whispers, slurred. My drool, flowing freely.

Do you hear that?

Those are the labored snores of one who is blissfully medicated and dreaming of swimming in an emerald river.

Also available in cherry flavor.

"The *fresh foods* store, conductor of hostility?" A woman's boring account of her trip to the grocery store.

I had to stop at Shop n Save on Wednesday to pick up some miscellaneous items my mom needed.

I stood at the entrance and pulled out my list so that I may study it and map out my path. (Only, mappers usually know the geographical details before they execute their mapping.) (I assume.) Granted, I only had 7 items on my list but those 7 items would be the cause of a wild scavenger hunt that would nearly bring me to tears!

It all started when I couldn't find the tomatillos. What's that, you ask. It is a small green tomato that is grown in a husk.

Its yummy uses are for salsa and... throwing at people? I'm not sure what else since I'm not a cook. I took my cart and rolled here, over there, next to the sauerkraut and nuthin'!

I stopped and asked one of the veggie organizer dudes where they were and he was all 'The what?' me 'TOE-MAH-TEE-YOS' my latino friend looked at me as if to say 'why does this chick need tomatillos' so I said to him, in Spanish, 'Mi mami quiere hacer salsa' (my mommy wants to make salsa) and then he said 'OH! Tomatillos!' Lost in translation? I don't think so since I speak PERFECT Spanish (that is the one thing I can brag about)!

He pointed me in the right direction so I took my wobbly SELF cart and made my way to the other side of the produce section. As I was sorting through them, I was hearing my mom's voice in my head "do you even know how to pick out tomatillos correctly?" I answered, out loud, 'how hard can it be?' and the man next to me gave me a dirty look. Like I was asking him a personal question. However, the fact that he was all defensive answers it all.

My next item was a loaf of bread. But not just any loaf of bread since my mom had written 'package has the word *butter* on the top'. Ummmm okay?

DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY VARIETIES OF BREAD ARE IN THE BREAD AISLE??

I called my mom and asked her for other distinguishing features to this buttery bread. Clue #2 yellow bag. Okay narrowed that down to 10 so I closed my eyes and eeny meeny mineey moed it.

Next up, cumin (Q-MEN or COO-MIN).

That should be easy, right? Went to the Aisle of Spice and looked high and low for cumin with these specifications "don't get the one in the bottle because it's more expensive. Look for a plastic bag with a white sticker that says 'comino de Mexico' ". While looking at each individual bag, because I could not find the cOminO, some lady asks me "can you move your cart?" and I did because I thought she needed to get a closer look at the oregano but all she did was park her cart where mine was and leave to go on her own hunt. I may or may not have moved her cart to another aisle.

After putting a BOTTLE of cumin in my cart, I moved on to look for the next thing on my list. Cream Soda. No, that wasn't on my list but for 79 cents I was taking it home. Chicken legs. I went to the back of the store and stood over the amputated chicken limbs trying to decide which was better. Smaller legs but a larger quantity or larger legs, smaller quantity? What to do? Whaaaat to do? I hadn't realized someone was clearing their throat and tapping their foot behind me.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Please go ahead." to a European lady giving me the stink eye. She sighed as if I had just taken the last schnitzel and proceeded to rustle through the packages pretty much doing the same thing I was minus the apparent disregard for chicken bruising. And then she started mumbling under her breath.

So I went in there and mimicked her because I thought maybe this was proper market etiquette. Only she had an advantage over me because she was taller and had gorilla-like arms.

She stopped once to huff at me again and I smiled at her and took over more space because clearly we were both looking for that ONE perfect package that had the right amount of legs that were the perfect size. . . EUREKA! I found it! I held it up triumphantly and gave her a sideways-half-turned-lopsided smug look and she tried looking at it over my shoulder but I walked away with my prize without giving her that pleasure.

::sigh:: I'm tired. Shopping for groceries isn't as fun as they make it out to be in movies.

Okay. Next is "80% Ground Beef". Crap! I had walked away from the dead animal section because I wanted to get away from the lady! Now I had to go back. I wobbled my way back and tried to guess as to what "80%" meant. Oh! Here is an 80% lean ground chuck. I put chuck in my cart and went "Poor chuck" out loud again and realized my latino friend from the veggies was following me at a distance.

I gave him a look as if to ask "Que onda vato?" but I don't think he understood because he scurried away.

Next on my list, milk. Ahhhh finally! Something I could pick out without having to tear my eyelashes out!

A tiny woman stood between me and the 2% and I found myself sighing and tapping my foot like my European lady friend with the chicken legs. It didn't work though! The tiny woman stood her ground! Okay, plan B. "Excuse me!" as I lean around her in all my extra poundage glory. She didn't seem to mind my invasion of her space. Weird.

Last item on my list, Jalapeños. For the love of... ! I remembered seeing the Jalapenos next to the tomatillos! All the way at the entrance of the store. Oh well. I walked back to the produce section and waved at my veggie organizing latino friend who was staring at me but he looked away. My list said she needed one pound of Jalapeños. I didn't see a single weigh station in the area. I wondered if my mom would get mad if I eyeballed the pound.

"Mom, I can't find anything to weigh the Jalapeños, does it have to be ONE pound?"

"Are you still at the store?"

"Yep. Does it have to be a pou--"

"It's almost 6:30! How long have you been there?"

"I got here a little past five I think. I couldn't find a few things-anyway! Does it have to be a poun--"

"Andy hasn't come down to dinner and I told him his plate was ready. Now it's cold."

"Mom, I need you to answer my question because I am going insane over here!"

"Calm down. What?"

"Jalapeños, pound yes or no"

"yes"

"::sigh:: Okay, bye."

I look for my veggie organizer dude who doesn't want to make eye contact with me.

"Donde esta la vascula?" (Spanish for 'Where in the freakin hell is the damned produce scale because I need to get out of this hell hole??')(well, sorta)

He points to the scale behind me. Of course.

I weighed the damned Jalapeños and made my way to the register. Along the way, the hunger within took over and added 4 candy bars, a cheese danish, something called "Crust" and some Italian seasoning (in the hopes that I would one day make bruschetta again).

I arrived at my house tired, sweaty, and hungry... with melted chocolate on my butt. Just like in the 90s.

The life lesson in this story?

One, I don't want to grow up. Two, I should stop talking to myself out loud. Three, people are mean. Four, wobbly carts make your hands hurt. Five, moms have no sympathy and will often say things like "2 of the tomatillos you picked out were rotten."

A mile in my shoes.

So, lately I've been feeling a little depressed. It's mostly due to XYZ health issues and ABC medications. I know you wouldn't be able to tell from my chipper blog attitude because, due to your delicate sensibilities, I've been putting on a brave front for your sake.

You're welcome.

Anyway, I've been experiencing some swelling in my body due to side effects of testing this pill or that pill to see which one works best. One of the things that has me down is the fact that the size of my puffy feet make it impossible for me to wear any of my awesome shoes.

I know some of you are probably thinking in disbelief and yes, a little condescendingly, "Shoes?? You're upset because you can't wear certain shoes??"

Short answers "Yes" long answer "How about you shutty?" The shoes situation just served as my catalyst.

I don't know about all women but in my case, a great pair of shoes can do wonders for my spirit.

The past few months, I've been wearing a pair of Clark's Sandals that are nice but plain. I bought them 6 years ago because they were on a great sale but I hadn't worn them in about 3 years. Turns out they, and the sketchers sandals I bought earlier this year, are the only shoes that fit me comfortably. For some reason my right foot is considerably more swollen than the left. (anybody have Barnum and Bailey's number?) Because of this, I wake up in the morning and dig through the more casual of my clothes. There's no sense in putting on a nice outfit if I can't wear the shoes to match. Along these lines, why bother with make-up if I'm dressed so casually? Added to that the spider bites that left my legs with this ugly biohazard look to them, I've been too self-conscious to wear any of my skirts... and so I step onto the insane merry-go-round.

I know there are bigger issues in the world and mine are trivial in comparison but there is no talking logic to my depression. After all the things I've lived through, I felt like this one was crushing me in ways I never expected. I didn't have the will to fight through it either because my brain knew how ridiculous and irrational I was being. I was just letting it consume me one day at a time. Everything in my head ended with "what for?" or "what's the use?"

I finally snapped out of it on Friday.

Andy and I were doing some last minute shopping for our trip to Starved Rock. One of our errands was stopping to get him a new pair of shoes since his old shoes wouldn't be comfortable enough to do any hiking. There I was in my baggy shorts and my bleach stained T-shirt, hair all Nick Nolte-like, no make-up and looking haggard and old with my ugly feet. I felt like a tired old woman. Seriously.

The shoes Andy picked were a little narrow so I went around the shoe department looking for a salesperson to ask for a bigger size. That's when I stumbled upon the most beautiful shoe I've seen in a long time. I stood in front of it and, I kid you not, looked at it reverently- too afraid to pick it up for fear of getting my hopes up that it would be

a) in my size
b) affordable

and the most important

c) in my size and me be able to squeeze my elephant foot into it

I timidly picked it up and found it was half a size too big but this hasn't stopped me before. I set it on the floor and slipped my foot out of my sandal. I slowly pushed my foot into the shoe and wiggled it this way and that until it went in and it fit perfectly!

It may sound like I'm exaggerating but I felt my body drain itself of all the tension I'd been feeling the past few months. I asked the somber sales dude for the other shoe and gushed over their unusual color, their style, the fact that the heel looked like the paneling on my dad's old station-wagon (never in a million years would I have thought this to be a good thing in a shoe). I was so happy, the sales dude went from quiet and serious to smiling and cheerful. He told me they were $19 on clearance and with Andy's purchase we were able to save $15 instead of the $10 I thought we would save from a coupon they had running. The great price made the find even sweeter.

As the evening went on and I was cutting up fruit, marinating steak, making a check list of all things we needed to pack the next morning, I kept thinking about the shoes and when I'd be able to wear them. They were too special for their first time on my feet to be just to work. I decided on wearing them to a reunion a former boss of mine is organizing for this coming Saturday. From there my mind went to picking an outfit and with each passing minute my heart became lighter.

I started looking forward to going through my shoes and checking to see which ones I felt comfortable wearing. On Sunday I did just that and found a few that made the difference in my feet imperceptible.

I also painted my finger nails so they're back to looking sharp and lethal. This morning I woke up, ironed a nice pair of dress pants, picked out a pretty purple blouse and wore my killer black shoes. Some make-up, jewelry, and perfume later and I felt like I'd lost 10 pounds and grew 4 inches in height.

People at work were telling me how great I looked and commenting that the trip to Starved Rock must have done wonders for me. While I did enjoy the magnificent scenery (Andy and I are planning a trip in the fall where we will hopefully go on more than one trail) the shift in my attitude happened the day before. It made it possible for me to truly appreciate what I was seeing because I was at peace with myself.

Listen, I know this all sounds screwy and I have had some brief relapses but I've been able to pull myself out of my pity party quicker this time around. I also debated on posting this here since it sounds more Bee's Dark Side but I thought "screw it! I'm the boss of me!"

I feel like I'm back to my abnormal self. I've never underestimated the small things that can brighten my life. A pair of shoes, a flower, some kind words, whatever it may be, it's not silly if it makes you happy.

P.S.
I realize a pair of shoes does not cure any health issues m'mkay? Rest assured I have a team of gorgeous male models medical experts analyzing every molecule in my body.

P.P.S.

While hiking, we came across a bunch of carvings that stated 'so and so was here' my favorite was:

(here with your mom on 4/20/09)

This post is brought to you by...*

I love watching commercials. I know that may not be a popular thing to say in this day of TiVos and DVRs but I enjoy a well crafted attempt to hypnotize me into obesity/alcoholism/gambling/promiscuity.

One of my favorite commercials right now is the one for Schick Quattro. I hope the creative minds behind this idea are, at this very moment, on a boat sipping champagne in St. Tropez.

It is seriously one of the best commercials I have ever seen. Take a look:

The first time I saw it, I laughed my ass off while Andy looked at me in confusion.

Bee: Don't you get it?

Andy: It's a commercial about a razor, so?

Bee: Do you see what's happening to the bushes as the women walk by them?

I rewind it so he can see the bushes.

Andy: I don't get it.

Bee: Good lord man! The woman walks by the bush and then it morphs into a more manicured shape!

Andy: ...?

Bee: Bush bush BUSH!! [gestures wildly]

Andy: Oh BUSH!! [nods and points]

::sigh:: I married an innocent!

Anyway, the reason I think this commercial is genius is because they don't give you specifics and yet they leave nothing to the imagination... without being tacky. And I know tacky!

In the name of blogscience, I will test out what the commercial advertises and walk in front of a bush.

Before:

After:

Ummmm, uh-oh?

*Alternate title "One in the hand is worth 2 in the bush"

Rerun numero UNO. "What I need is hazard pay for all the purple nurples!"

-original date, Monday, August 25, 2008

What I need is hazard pay for all the purple nurples!

So…
Glynda’s on vaca until Thursday, which is just as well since she and I had an issue over the brain dead assistant. Here is a brief synopsis: OZ wanted a report on what she had accomplished. I typed it up and left nothing out. HE went berserk and tore Glynda a new one, before my very eyes, for not firing her! More on her on Friday.

Anyway, she’s the only nurse on Mondays so Scarecrow needed help with an older patient who has Alzheimer’s.

I volunteered like so:
“Ask Milton. Oh, she's in the bathroom? Where’s Tin-Man? The hospital making rounds? Crap! Okay.”
She needed help putting him on the X-Ray table so I helped. Then she asked me to fix his pillow. So I did.
And do you know what that DIRTY OLD BASTARD DID???
.
He. Grabbed. My. Boobs!!!!

You know, the ones I took off the market when I married Andy? Those!

SWEET HOLY FAMILY!

I almost died of shock right there! Only I controlled myself because my tender pechugas would have landed on his face. That's okay, he thinks OZ charges a lot, wait till he gets MY bill!

So now we have to amend Bee’s Rules for patients.

1) I will not watch your kid if you’re coming in for an exam. You can lock him/her in one of our closets.

2) I will not take your co-pay. Wait for the receptionist to come back from her pee break since I can't handle the pressure of putting a 20 into an envelope.

3) I will not get you a cup off coffee (the fuck??). I’m not your servant. If you ask me for one, you will see mild mannered ME turn into Red Face Spittle Woman!

4) I will not give you a lollipop if you are over 18. (unless you are a really hot guy)(hey, these are my rules and I can make any exceptions I want!) I will ask for ID (if you're hot I might linger in the bushes outside of your house). Don't use the excuse of having bad breath either because you can always carry mints.

5) Do not talk to me while we are passing each other in the hallway. You are a patient therefore beneath me.
And the new added rule:

6) You cannot grab my boobs! No! Bad! No grabby boobies! No! (unless you are a really hot guy)
You can, however, ogle me from afar. Maybe bring me some presents. I wouldn’t object to that.
.
HEY! Watch your hands! You can't grab my butt either! (unless...)

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I want to thank Brian for scaring the ever lovin' CRAP out of me(!) by doing this post about my creepy stalker! Because of that I had to drink this very delicious pomegranate Mojito. Thanks Brian! I hope you're happy!

Anyone can be replaced by a monkey. Except maybe Yoda.

I looked at my calendar today and realized it was the 20th of July. I mean, I knew it was July TWENTY but it really hit me this morning that more than half of July- half the year - has gone. I feel like checking under the bed to see if I misplaced some days under there. Maybe the dust bunnies are holding them hostage.

While I’m sad to see July making its way out of my life, I’m also excited because my Long Lost Friend and her two kids are coming to visit the city with the best pizza in the world! (Speaking of pizzas!!!! Okay, that picture I posted the other day caused a bit of controversy. No, not really but now I feel the need to explain. That was a traditional Chi-KAW-goh-style deep dish pizza for Pete's sake! It is all kinds of yummy. The top layer is sauce but once you cut into it, it’s all cheese baby! I was angry at you guys for mocking the perfection of that pizza but now I’m just sad because you have not had the mouth watering pleasure of tasting this yumm-o-licious creation.)

Back to my friend's visit.

They arrive late Friday night and I have 4 full days of planned fun. As a matter of fact, I have an itinerary which shows everything I’ve scheduled- sight seeing attractions, meals, snacks, bathroom breaks… the entire 4 days planned out! I’m sure my LLF will think this is odd behavior but I see it more as prepared spontaneity.

Anyway, I have done a lot to prepare for her trip: Mocha haircut CHECK- Tazz haircut CHECK- Andy haircut… (hmmm hopefully I’ll be able to say CHECK by Friday), swept under the fridge, removed dead fish from fish tank (now we have zero fish thank you very much!), dusted Andy’s dolls-I mean Action Figures, de-cluttered my computer cart so there are no visible clues on how my mind works or in legalese/law dog speak “incriminating evidence”.

She will be staying in my mom’s guest room since mine has an Andy, a computer, comic books, some dogs and the ghost of dead fishes (fishi?) but no bed. Besides there is a reason why I call it the dungeon.  ::shiver::

Unfortunately, I still have about a million and one things to do before her arrival. Some touch up painting, back porch relocation, kitchen cabinet reorganization etc. Andy said I’m going overboard since nobody looks in kitchen cabinets but then I told him I’d like to know where my stuff is in case I need to cook a soufflé or lets get real here, make a grilled cheese sandwich.

My house used to be more organized but then I discovered this thing called blogging and pretty much everything else went into the procrastination bin. Now I have to make a conscious effort to schedule time to clean. That means that I have to tell myself not to turn on my computer or check my phone.

To make a long story less interesting, I will be taking a mini vacation from blogland. Hey! I saw that ‘who cares’ shrug! After all the love affection blood/sweat/tears  casual acquaintanceship I’ve given you over the years, your blasé attitude cuts me deep!

To those of you who groaned wondering what you will be doing for the next few days, you don’t have to worry because I will be rewarding you by doing a "Bee’s Musings Marathon of reruns" Yay!!!

I have scheduled some posts to pop up when you least expect them, 2:57 a.m.? Maybe. I’m not saying these are my greatest hits because the majority of the reruns will be about other people. We all know this blog is not about me but those who are lucky enough to share the planet with someone as cool as me.

So carry on with your lives, have some coronas and I’ll be back before you know it. But not anytime soon. Maybe like Thursday of next week which would make it day of the lord uh late July something. Hold on... July 30th yeah that sounds about right.

 

 

Oh yeah. I also want to thank Walmart for only charging $4 for my blood pressure meds as opposed to the $35 that Walgreen's charges. Unfortunately it took TWO HOURS to get my prescription filled and they didn't even give me the other pill I needed because my doctor writes the same as a new born would if they gave it access to its poop and let it finger paint on a blanket.

I thought I did great in maintaining my shit while I waited and waited AND WAITED. Sadly, I did feel my blood pressure rising so I think it would have been funny if I would have keeled over in the pharmacy. Well, not funny "hahaha" more like funny "you fucking bastards made my head explode so now you have to clean up the mess that is my goopy brains!" kind of funny.

Also, it's like 2:00ish right now so I may be a little out of my mind with tiredness. I decided to just let myself tire out naturally instead of tossing and turning in the tiny space Andy allows me to sleep in.

YAWWWWN! Alrighty, I'm tired now so I'm turning my blog off--

How you doin'? + How well do you know me?

Okay you guys, I'm kind of crabby today because Tazz woke me up at 5:45 which means I only got 5 hours of sleep, I have my 1,000th doctor's appointment this year this morning (and I'm tired of them!), it's rainy and soggy outside, my plants/flowers have mold because of all of the rain, I burned my eggos, I can't have coffee until after the doc appointment (blood pressure readings are still too high but I'll be damned if I give up my coffee), I have 13 zillion mosquito bites and only 2 hands to scratch them with, Andy won't stop with the baby talk when he talks to Mocha (what is he doing up anyway? It's too early!)(did I mention no coffee?), ETCETERA!

To cheer myself up, I am posting this "How well do you know Bee" quiz I had posted on facebook. Please leave your answers in the comments. I also know it's Saturday and very few people are sitting at home on their computers this weekend so I don't expect too many people to take the quiz but I hope those that stop by give it a try. I don't think a single person will get 100%. Not even Andy. Which, by the way, is asking me too many questions too early in the morning! "What are you typing, Bee?" "Did you take the dogs out, Bee?" "What time are we leaving, Bee?" "Blah blah blah blah, Bee?" "Why are you being so moody, Bee?"

I don't care how much my blood pressure rises, I am not giving up coffee OR Andy! We look like vampires.(don't ask)

1)
What color suits me best?

a)
Red

b)
Doomsday Black

c)
Multicolored Polka Dots

d)
Orange Sherbert

e)
Green limekini

2)
What time am I usually in bed by?

a)
Too late midnight

b)
Andy the warden 10:30

c)
Old lady 9pm

d)
I don't sleep

e)
Purple

3)
What am I scared of?

a)
My boss (yeah, right!)

b)
The bats I work with (nope)

c)
Babies with guns

d)
Homer Simpson

e)
The color pink

4)
My favorite drink is ________.

a)
Blood

b)
The color purple

c)
Ice cream

d)
poodles

e)
Vanilla coke

5)
Who is my favorite Disney character?

a)
Grumpy

b)
Stumpy

c)
Ben dover

d)
Sugar

e)
Cinderella

So… my hallucinations.

Wednesday night I took the Mirapex for the first time. The instructions were to take one pill 45 minutes to an hour before bed. I took it at 10pm figuring that by the time I went to bed, the devil within would be tamed or at least high.

I started getting groggy at about 10:30 and could barely form a coherent thought much less say anything that didn’t come out all slurred. My head hit the pillow and BAM! I was in the arms of some random hot actor, I’m not really picky nowadays, within seconds.

Fast forward about 4 hours and I wake up to the smell of skunk. Not unusual in our area and since our windows are open, the smell is totally believable. Until Andy wakes up and I say “effin skunk!” and he’s all “what?”

Bee:
There must be a skunk outside cuz it reeks!

Andy:
Are you dreaming? It doesn’t smell like skunk!

Bee:

Yes it does.

Andy:

No, babe, it doesn't.

Bee:
Holy Moses!! Am I hallucinating?

I’m serious you guys! I had to get up and walk around until I no longer could smell the ""skunk"". I went back to bed but then I started freaking myself out by wondering if I was hallucinating so I couldn't go back to sleep right away. When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt I was hallucinating having imaginary arguments with Milton and my brother Dan and in my dream I was telling myself they were not really in front of me! Scary shit right there. I can’t have anything else messing with my mind since I’m already halfway to batville without hallucinogens.

Before you go out and get your own personal stash of Mirapex, I have to warn you that the hangover is a bitch. I woke up with dry mouth and a headache. I also went all of Thursday typing with my eyes closed because I was so drowsy and only opening them to proofread at the end.

When I got home from work Thursday, I swear everything I said to Andy went like this:

"Mofracka dinnnnt e" translation= "Mocha didn't eat"

"Pfsuhgakjkss jknsh akhuhngtyskk lskhuhshgshsh" translation= "Ouch"

I only took it that once and I'm gonna take one again tonight so it'll be interesting to see what the side effects will be this time, if any. We're going to my brother's house for a BBQ on Saturday so my brain needs to be on its A-game. Siblings sense weakness and attack.

Happy Fourth

of July!!!

How big are mothballs? Get it? Moth BALLS?? I crack myself up!

We finally found the SOURCE of the moths. It seems my front coat storage closet has been their home for quite a while. I think I saw a hot tub in there.

The discovery was like something out of a Hitchcock horror flick. I went to put away a couple of my purses and when I opened the door, there were about 10 moths still as can be, probably waiting to attack me at just the right moment. Lucky for me, my reflexes are finely tuned when it comes to bugs so I valiantly screamed and closed the door in one quick move.

I looked up ways to kill moths (besides swatting them I mean, or drowning them, or burning them)(PETA STAY AWAY I don't really burn moths) and I couldn't find anything even remotely helpful. We decided to try mothballs but after we brought them home, we read the instructions and I am now fearing for my life because the stupid warnings say not to let that crap touch your skin and here I rolled them in my hands and played dice with them!

I put a few in the closet and closed the door but I can smell them where I'm sitting and I'm about 14 feet away. Right now I'm trying to decide which is worse. Constantly battling moths or the smell of poisoned old lady house.

My eyes are burning. Maybe I have some moth genes in me. Maybe I have moth balls. Get it? It's a good thing you cant see me right now because you'd be wondering what the hell I'm on.

Also, I remember when I was a little kid I did some experiment with moth balls and uh something else for a school science project. I can't remember what it was about and I'm too stoned to google it but if those suckers are that poisonous, why didn't anybody warn me? Can I sue my teacher? Only I don't remember what grade I was in or what state I was living in and maybe what planet I was on. Seriously, should I get rid of those things? Cameron Diaz is playing a mom on her next movie. It's about time they gave her an age appropriate role. She still looks great but I don't need to keep seeing her underroo covered hiney dancing around. The word hiney makes me laugh. Oh lord! Emiio Esteves is like 400 pounds! I think that's Emilio Estevez. I'm watching Burn Unit. No, that can't be him!

Little side convo:

Bee:

Andy! I spelled Hitchcock wrong! And then I realized--

Andy:

How did you spell it?

Bee:

H-i-t-c-o-c-k-- but that's when I realized--

Andy:

That's not how it's spelled!

Bee:

I know! I'm trying to say that's when I realized his name is HITCH-COCK!

Andy:

Yeaaaaaaah? What are you saying? He should have changed his name?

Bee:

Yeah to uhm Tetherpenis or maybe Strappenis hahahahahahaha

Andy:

... That's not funny.

Bee:

It's not? Oh. Never mind then.

Whatever, I thought it was funny.

If somebody knows if that was Emilio Estevez on Burn Unit or just some dude that looks just like him, let me know. I'm tired of thinking. Stay tuned tomorrow.I'm sharing our experience at a late night viewing of The Hangover.

So hello there! Did you miss me? I had a great time on my mini break, thanks for asking!

I know you’re probably dying to know what crazy high jinks we’ve got into but we had a pretty tame weekend so no juicy news for you!

Okay, I'll tell you about it anyway...

On Friday I continued with my landscaping and grub killing extravaganza. I am now the meanest, shortest, smelliest grub killer in the Midwest. Also, my sister took this picture of a bird taking a crap in my frog planter. To the bird I ask, "what the hell bird? the whole world is your toilet but you chose my freakin frog? asshat!"

Damn thing even turned away pretending to be embarrassed.

That reminds me of an old joke my uncle Curly used to tell me. He said that when he was out in rural farms delivering The Coca Cola and he needed to go, um, poopsie, he would go in a field, drop his pants and close his eyes. When I would ask why he closed his eyes he'd say "So anybody driving by wouldn't see me going poopsie" and when I would question that logic he would reply "if I can't see them, they can't see me!" Yeah, pretty much my whole family is weird.

On Saturday, at the BCD (butt crack of dawn), we went to the laundromat and I threw the mother of all tantrums because the machines were all being assholes! We then moved my momma and she is now officially on a separate floor which means all toys that belong to people under the age of 30 have been relocated and now my house doesn’t look like the McDonald’s play area.

On Sunday we took our one day vacation (because there is no budget this year for going anywhere exciting… sorry Wisconsin) and went to my in-laws’ campground where we all fell asleep in front of the TV and probably snored in unison.

On Monday I cleaned my house and rid it of all the construction dust that had accumulated because my logic was “what’s the point in cleaning today if it’ll look the same tomorrow” (you may recognize that logic if you have teens/preteens/husbands) from top to bottom then went to see Angels and Demons so that I may rest my old decrepit bones.

And now you’re jealous because my life is much more exciting than yours. What can I say? Not everybody can be this cool.

I enjoyed every last drop of this Holiday weekend and today was crashing about the office because I’d forgotten how to walk around walls. My only consolation is that we are already on Tuesday and it’ll be the weekend in no time. Hopefully.

I just heard it will rain until tomorrow night. I'm glad because we've obviously NOT had enough rain.

P.S.

To Brian and jean knee who thought something catastrophic had happened to me like pig flu or death, thanks guys! You always know how to brighten my day! Jerks.

P.P.S.

Does anybody watch Jon and Kate + 8? (For those of you who have lives and have no idea who they are, they are a young couple who over fertilized themselves and had 8 kids. They have been on TV for about 4 years or so.) I can’t explain why but I’ve become obsessed with the Jon and Kate Gosselin drama. Will they stay together? Will they get a divorce? They went from looking like they loved each other to hating each other in the blink of an eye. I really hope they pull it together because I’m running out of shows to watch.