Lady in Waiting

I posted on Facebook today that I hate waiting. I'm not a patient person when it comes to wasting my time. I went to work and then straight to the doctor for an appointment where I waited. And I waited. And can you believe there were NO FREAKIN' female magazines! Well, there were baby magazines, Family Fun, Parenting, Golf, ESPN, Car and Web MD. There was also a Bible that I figured was there for people who are really sick and need to change their wicked ways.

Back to waiting. I read the entire Bible.....well, I could have if I knew I'd be waiting for an hour and fifteen minutes. Then the medical assistant asked me to step on the scales and I whined like a four year old, "I didn't want to get weighed today."

She was very sympathetic, "I know, with this cold weather everyone has all those extra layers on." 'Cause it's bloomin' snowing today, folks - snowing in April!!! As if Pia getting voted off American Idol wasn't stupid enough.

The numbers appeared on the scales, "I don't really weigh that much." She humored me, "How much do you really weigh?" I subtracted 29 lbs. "Really? 20 lbs of extra clothing?" she asked.

"You do realize I'm here for depression and you're really not helping matters." She led me into another room where I waited for another 20 minutes. Newsweek or Marie Claire? Holy crap. I'm already smart and beautiful. They have nothing to offer me.

I went to the pharmacy and I had to wait some more because they didn't have my prescription ready. Then I was told my med needed a FREAKIN' PRE-AUTHORIZATION and guess what? Because I waited so long at the doctor's office it was now 5:00 in the evening and I would have to wait until possibly Monday. That gives me two more days to possibly go on a crime spree.

My husband suggested we go out to dinner and because I'm very considerate of his time, I decided to warn him about the waiting time. So we decided to meet there and while I was telling the kids to get in the car he called and asked me to wait for him instead. When we got to the restaurant they had a waiting time of 45 minutes. You add that to the waiting time it takes for the server to take your order and then the waiting time to bring your food, the drink refills, the free bread sticks, the mints and the bill and ........ so we went somewhere else.

Mimi needed to go to the bathroom and so I came with her to show her where the bathroom is and took the opportunity to wash my hands. As we were leaving I caught a glimpse of a very large brown slug on the floor in one of the stalls. I stepped back to take another look and it wasn't a slug. I said, "Ew. Is that a turd?"

"I can't look or I'll be sick," Mimi says. She was obviously switched at birth.

That had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this story, but I thought you would like that part. Your welcome. But at least I was a responsible parent and chaperoned my kid to the bathroom unlike some. At least I hope that was a kid......or a stray animal. Did I mention this restaurant kind of rhymes with Crapper Barrel?

I guess I won't be tying my stories together, they are what they are.

When Vacuums Attack

There it is, looking innocent enough. But heed my warning.....it is an accident waiting to happen. Just like owning a pit bull, you'll never know if it will return to it's natural fighting instincts, jaws meant for locking down on the enemy. This is my Dyson Animal vacuum, aka the Dyson Pit Bull.
It's not like it was neglected. I took it out for a venture every once in awhile. Keeping it on it's leash - when it happened. It turned on me. As I was adjusting the bottom of it, the handle dropped down on my foot. You know the thing you wrap the cord around? Hit me right on the top of my instep. This is the freak attack we all fear and this is how it left me maimed and swearing. Actually, I didn't swear at all but I rolled around on the floor wailing for awhile.

Later that day, my true colors shone through. Shades of purple, pink and blue. That was one week ago. Today, it is blue, green and the purple now spreads halfway down my toes. I now have two insteps on my left foot. I went to the doctor three days after the accident and it was a little bit broken. Just the tip is kind of chipped. He gave me a pretty shoe but after four days I quit wearing it. It Velcros across the top and made it ache all day.

Vacuums are not our friends. They are dangerous species waiting to turn on you. No matter how pretty they look - beware. Because of this attack, I cannot even look at another vacuum without shaking and crying. I now have suck-a-phobia.

Growing Up

My baby turned ten. I was really kind of sad about it on her birthday last Thursday. We spent the day together, shopping, getting her hair cut, getting party supplies, buying a "Build-a-Bear" knock-off. (It's the only thing close by.) Her two birthday parties stirred some other emotions, like homicidal tendencies.

We decided to have an "Alice in Wonderland" party and everyone was to wear a crazy hat. Nine crazy kids came to celebrate. Mimi went into show-off mode and it left me wondering how she had friends. Why do kids do that? They are like obnoxious drunks who can't do enough to try to get people to laugh.

Here's our "Tea Party." I actually found gummy mushrooms which I laid on the table for decorations. I searched high and low for these little bottles.

The kids watched "Alice in Wonderland" (the new one). They squeaked balloons until I almost went bizerk and ran in there like a mad woman, popping every balloon. I actually had a visual of this and imagined the looks on the kids' faces. I thought of the rumors; "Mimi's mom is just like the Mad Hatter." This is her cousin, Bryson. They are only a year apart.The day after her birthday, Mimi said, "We need to go to Wal-mart."

"What for?" I ask.

"I need a bra," she announces.

"No you don't," I said in a laugh.

"Yes, I do, too! You said as soon as my nipples start sticking out, that's when I need a bra!"

"I don't think you're nipples are sticking out," I said.

"Yes, even look!" she argued. Then she takes the neck of her T-shirt and stretches it over her chest to expose.....nothing. "See, it's starting to stick out." I'm telling you, it was smaller than a mosquito bite. Smaller than the zit on my forehead - which could definitely use a bra.

I could never imagine doing that in front of my mom. I think she just started buying me bras. I would have been embarrassed to attract any attention to that area of my body. Now, buying a bra is like buying shoes. The "Bra Fitting Specialist" goes in the dressing room to make sure it is adjusted right and the right size.

I went to a "specialty" store and after the lady came to check on me she turned and announced she would go get a bigger bra and announces my cup size loud enough for the entire little shop to hear. When I came out, ready for my purchase, my husband was sitting there with a smirk on his face. Then he says like a teenage boy in a locker room, "Bigger bra, huh?" He was so proud of my hard efforts of growing fat cells on my chest.

Routines

Sometimes we do things without thinking about them. Sometimes we do them all the time and don't realize it......until we embarrass ourselves doing them.

My 17 year old daughter had a boyfriend. She said she broke up with him because she wants to be single during their senior year next year. He's so cute I told her I would just adopt him instead. They are still really good friends, in fact he was at our house tonight.

Usually when I come home from anywhere I walk through the garage door and run to the bathroom usually chanting urgently, "I needa pee pee!" Tonight I walked in and my hubby was waiting with his arms open waiting for a hug and I hand him the grocery bags except he didn't catch them so they landed on the ground and I squeal, "I gotta potty!"

He said, "Can't you give me a hug first?"

I start running down the hall shouting, "I have a turtle!" Well, you can imagine what that means. C'mon, doesn't every family have a code word? I usually only share that kind of information with my family. Except when I came back out, there was Ali's friend that is a boy, but not her boyfriend, sitting there in my living room. I didn't know he was here even though his car was parked out in our driveway. Also I walked out of my bedroom (after releasing the turtle into the sea) in my pajamas singing at the top of my lungs, "Tonight's gonna be a good, good night..." (Black-eyed Peas) and I notice him sitting there. I quickly fold my arms and stop singing and hide in the kitchen. Maybe that's the real reason they broke up.

The sad part about this little routine of running to the loo every time I come home (like Pavlov and his dog) is my nine year old has taken note. I came home and found my toilet lid down with a note on the lid, "Dear Mommy, I went to Lauren's house to play. Love, Mimi." I found another one today. At least she knows I'll find them.

Peeping/Pooping Toms

I work for a company that employs people with disabilities. We have a production area that some disabled adults work in. We refer to them as clients and even kids, because they are just like kids. Work is like a box of chocolates....you never know what you're gonna get. Sometimes I answer multiple phone calls from the same person in one day. Sometimes people call me for directions and they have to call multiple times from their cell phone as they are on their way. "I see that store, now where do I go?" Some of them we are scared of because they have a driver's license.

I needed to use the ladies room one day last week. I was the only one in the three stall loo and had just sat down when I heard the bathroom door open and close. Next thing I know there were two sneakers under my door. One of the clients had made their way to our side of the building and was peeking through my bathroom door. She turned and left as soon as she saw whatever it was she was looking for, or not. I thought of all the funny things I could have done, like yell at her to "get the hell out of here" or maybe moon her. Unprofessional that would have been. But funny. I told the supervisor in the back and she said she always does that. So I guess I'm not special.

My friend/coworker shared her experience with a client. The client was yelling that she needed a plastic bag as she was holding a wet paper bag. She was making quite a scene and yelling, "I need a plastic bag for my hairspray!" Kate told her she didn't have a plastic bag and maybe ask another worker. This settled her and she said she would ask someone else and would Kate hold her bag for her while she asked. Kate held the wet paper bag, which she discovered had an odor. A very yucky odor. It didn't smell like hairspray. When the client came back Kate asked, "What is in this bag? It stinks!" Client says, "Oh. That's my dirty underwear." Ew.

Then this very same week we had a client who has Down's Syndrome come to the window. This client always wears a baseball cap and never smiles. He said in his very slow, quiet voice, "I'm sorry to bother you."

"What do you need, Ross?" we asked him.

"I'm sorry to bother you." Big sigh. "Well," sigh, "I went to the bafroom," sigh, "A while ago," sigh, and then holds his hands level to his shoulders, "and it was this big." Sigh. "And my stomach hurts." Sigh. "I don't feel good." I'm thinking his intestines probably needed time to adjust to their new position in his gut. We didn't laugh while he was there. You're probably wondering what I said to that. It was something like this: "You'll probably start feeling better since you went to the bathroom." One of the other secretaries said, "Krista, if you don't want to help another person at that window today, we'll understand."

Yes They're Real and They're Fabulous!

We've had a bit of tragedy in my neighborhood and I don't know how faithful I'll be on my blog for this week. Some friends of ours 25 year old daughter took her own life Friday night and we're left in a somber mood. I'm reposting one of my favorites that I originally posted in Sept. '08.

Some people actually pay to have them! Not me! I like the more natural look. You can spot the fake ones from a mile away! People admire them whether they're real or fake as long as you show them off.


Both of my daughter's want some just like mine. My eight year old and 15 year old are already trying to grow them. I tell them to hold off until they're a little older and told my eight year old, Mimi, they look ridiculous on little girls. The kids at school are going to think she's a little different and what will her teacher think with her sporting them around?!


I guess Ali is old enough and they do come in handy at her age. Boys usually think they're attractive and even the girls like them. And can you believe even girls her age are getting fake ones? A lot of them are jealous when they see how pretty they are, but no matter how hard they try they can't grow any if their life depended on it. I still don't think they look very nice when they are fake and can't believe what some people will pay! And also how it's hard to find a certified professional or they may not look even.


I thought I would put a picture of them on my blog, just to prove to people they can look good natural, without modification. Ali didn't want hers posted all over the Internet, but Mimi and I are proud of ours au naturale!:

Friday Confessional

Ooops! I forgot to add the button of Glamazon, who is my new BFF.

Okay, for those who don't know, I have a confession. I really like those morbid mystery shows that solve crimes. Not the Hollywood kind, the true story kind. I watch them on TRU TV, and ID TV - love 'em! My husband and children ask, "Why do you like those shows about murder?" It's not about murder. It's about finding the murderer with DNA, forensic science and stuff. It's about me taking notes so I can hide their bodies and outsmarting the authorities.

So, my husband, Mr. Red Personality, Mr. Control Freak, brought me home some chocolates tonight. Does he think this makes up for him being a total @%*(&@# the other day? Even if they are Ferrero Rochers? Does he think that punching below the belt with total lies can be forgiven with 7 ounces of chocolate hazelnut goodness?

I'm suspicious now. I think he's trying to kill me. We all know that 7 ounces does not equal 7 ounces. I think he wants me to gain weight - a lot of weight. Then I might feel the need to exercise and being in the bad shape that I am I will most likely die. It would probably be a slow and painful death. First, labored breathing. Then flushing of the skin and breaking into a sweat. My heart would start pounding, pounding, pounding until it exploded. The death would look natural and he would get away with the perfect crime.

I'm writing this so the world can know if this happens, it was premeditated murder. Tell the coroner to look for a slight odor of bitter hazelnuts. Someone contact Keith Morrison of Dateline NBC to do a story on me. Please tell him I was well loved and very funny and don't let them say I died doing what I loved the most. I really hate that saying. Remember, they could only say that if I died choking on a piece of cheesecake.

Publicpottyphobia

Sometimes words are just not enough. Pictures can say so much more. So when I was shopping at an Asian grocery store with my mom and husband, I couldn't believe my eyes.

First I should say it's my birthday and we went out to a yummy Gastronomy restaurant where I had the best salad with crab and jumbo shrimp in it and two Diet Cokes. So as we were shopping nature called. Then it started yelling and I know I'm going to pay a big embarrassing price for not listening to the first calls one of these days. So, I looked for the restroom in this Asian grocery store. Wouldn't you know? The women's restroom was "Closed from people flushing unflushables." True. That's what the sign said. Then a worker lady yells and points to the door next to it and yells, "Go in that one!" Well, that's what I was about to do with or without her permission.

This is what I see:


I really couldn't believe that this was real life, but I was desperate. So the view from the loo was this:



After flushing legitimate flushables, I ask you.....do you see a sink? Neither do I. Lucky I ate ribs last week and kept my little handi-wipe in my purse.

You'd think by now I would have a phobia of public toilets. I actually Googled that to see if there was an actual name for that phobia. There is not. You'd think there would be a term describing an actual condition that I know a lot of people have.

There's "verminophobia" which is the fear of germs. "Pathophobia" is the fear of disease. Another scary one is "Coprophobia" which is the fear of feces. I read a simple description, but not designated term called "toilet phobia." Most of us have had toddlers that we swear had that one, but when you think about it in proportion, if you had to sit on something the size of a small swimming pool that could swallow you whole, you would be afraid, too. Maybe have a little aquaphobia.

I learned about a phobia called "alektorophobia" which is the fear of chickens. Now, I know a lot of people and none of them are afraid of chickens, but I know plenty of people who put a toilet seat liner on and still hover over the toilet in fear of germs, disease, urine, butt sweat, fecal matter or even the toilet bowl ogre. WHY does this fear not have a name?! This is a legitimate condition and I am very close to having it. I am signing up for a gymnastics class next week just so I can maneuver the public restrooms.

Things You Wish You Didn't Know

Don't you hate it when you know certain things and you wish you didn't know them? Like I wish a certain person hadn't told me their self-righteous, angel-faced spouse had two affairs. I hate that kind of information. Because what do you do with that information? It's like you kinda want to tell others but you know you shouldn't because then they have the information stuck in their head and they wish they didn't.

Like in high school when I learned in Science that Jello was made out of bones. It was kind of exciting to have that kind of information but you wish you didn't have it at the same time. So I decided to share this great tidbit at lunch when there was a nice square of Jello with a dob of whipped cream on the top.

Krista, age 16: "Do you know what Jello is really made of?"

Maureen, age 17, as she drops her utensils, throws her head back in disgust and immediately stops chewing her food: "Do you know how long it took me to forget that?"

Guess who had two servings of Jello that day? I actually don't eat gelatin very often and when I do I always think of bones.

Here's a love/hate scenario: I LOVE chocolate. Chocolate cake, chocolate

cookies, chocolate cheesecake, chocolate candy.

Okay, focus here. Focus.

I HATE bugs. Which is one reason I didn't do Australia well. Which is why I have to share this picture of my second cousin once removed-in-law with a very spooky critter on his head. I can barely look at this photo. Which is why I made the picture small. Back to bugs. When I lived in Australia I was seeing a Naturopath and she gave me an article she though would cure my addiction to chocolate.

This is the part where you may want to push "Next Blog" at the top of the page. Well....er....uh

....I even googled to confirm this information since it was over ten years old. I'll just tell you and then you will have to decide what to do with this information. It is apparently impossible to prevent cockroaches from contaminating the vats in which chocolate is manufactured. The FDA says that up to 4% by weight may legitimately contain "cockroach parts." People that have allergies to chocolate are usually allergic to the cockroach content. Some people experience allergic reactions such as asthma, headache, heartburn, rectal itching, hives, skin rashes. Did you just read over "rectal itching" like it was nothing? "Excuse me, I just had a Hershey bar and I gotta go scratch my butt." Like, how do you figure these things out? What kind of research study groups figure that out? How do you know it wasn't just a coincidence? Maybe the testers had a diet of nothing but chocolate for two weeks and were scootin' around like dogs with worms.

Shudder.

So, I've had this information for years and like bones are to gelatin, cockroaches are to chocolate. I have a slight allergic reaction to chocolate - when I eat too much it makes my butt swell. And it still hasn't stopped me from eating it. But if you are cured, please tell!

Johnny is a Sociopath

When I was younger, not that long ago, I used to think you had to befriend everyone. I thought if you weren't friends with everyone, that made you judgemental. I don't think it was until I went to London and met some very strange characters that my eyes were opened.

I was very sad when I asked Ali (16) about one of her friends I'll call "Sue". She announced that they weren't friends anymore. "WHAT?" I love this girl! Ali then tells me, "She's making some bad decisions and I don't agree with her, so we're not friends anymore."

I'm seriously broken-hearted. This is the funnest, bubbliest, craziest girl ever. "What is she doing?"

"She's guaging her ears, drinking and making out with a new boy every weekend. I don't want people to think I'm like that," she said, confidently.

So here comes the judgement thought: "Sue needs a good friend like Ali now more than ever." Here comes the realistic thought: "A girl's gotta protect her reputation, and Sue knows better."

We had a family night and discussed an article in "The Friend", a children's magazine. I was reading it when all of those thoughts came to me. The story was about a boy who made friends with another boy who no one would play with in which I add as if part of the story (plus I was testing to see if anyone was listening) "because Johnny was a weirdo who grew up to be a pedophile." They were listening! My teens laughed. It went directly over my 8 year old's head.

"Does it say that?" Seth asks.

Of course, I'm cracking myself up hysterically. So sad, but I do laugh at my own jokes. But here's the point: You don't have to be friends with everyone. We have a little feeling inside that gives us alarms for certain people and there's a reason for that. You can be polite to everyone, but Johnny could be a sociopath, so don't go to the movies with him!

The Last Supper

We got together with friends last night and went to dinner at one of our favorite little Chinese places. We always look forward to the fortune cookie. Well, mine was really lame and I was whining about it, so Di gave me the one she was going to give her husband. So I traded. Just so you know, soon, I will receive pleasant news. What is with fortune cookies and horoscopes these days? The economy must be so bad, even the psychics are being frugal with their luck. Last time I had to work for what I wanted.

At dinner the subject of "my predicament" of being left handed came up. I assured them I was becoming quite ambidextrous.

Well, I'm almost off to get my hand surgically modified. I hardly slept last night so I'm looking forward to the anesthesia. I thought about the guy who went to the hospital to have his leg amputated and they cut off the wrong one. I'm thinking about writing "CTR" on my left hand. Though my surgeon is a transplant from the south and he probably doesn't know what that means.

Thank you for all your well wishes! I really, really appreciate it!

More Stinkin' Thinkin' and Handy Info

I've been battling my thoughts once again. Notice the lapse in blogging? But with my surgery coming up on Wednesday I'm trying to keep positive. I really wanted to ask the surgeon something, but I was kind of embarrassed to ask him.
So here's the scenario:

I was in about fifth grade and my family was sitting down for dinner. Remember I grew up with only one brother who is four years younger than me. He's the one that forgot I was supposed to be an only child. But I'm totally over it.

So we were eating fried chicken. Gene and I always got the drumsticks. I was innocently gnawing my way through when a very tragic thing happened. This event changed my childhood and life forever. There was no turning back after the vision I had. As I was eating, the knuckle thingy fell off. The white joint bones were exposed and the other part fell onto the plate. It sickened me. Now, the little sharp toothpick kind of thing always freaked me out, but I tried not to think about it. And once in awhile when a vein was left dangling, I turned my head. But when the knuckle fell off, that was the last straw. I was to never eat a drumstick again. There was way too much unnamed anatomy to deal with to remind me I was eating a dead living creature.

So, as I'm left to think about my hand surgery and knuckles and joints and all, I wonder if our joints look like chicken joints - all white and shiny? If you know the answer will you please tell me. That picture from the link to basal thumb arthroplasty kinda makes me think of drumsticks. Only one more day to think about that thank goodness!

Anxious About Arthroplasty

Well, only a week and a half and I will be having surgery on my right hand. This would be my dominant hand. I'm looking forward to having my hand feel better, but I'm not looking forward to the initial pain of having a bone taken out of my wrist. I've read that this surgery is usually very successful and people have increased strength in their grip. I won't bore you with all the details, but if you're interested you can have a peek at this.

I do need to say I'm much too young for arthritis. I told the Orthopedic Surgeon that it's an old hitch-hiking injury. I actually have a bone spur on my wrist bone. They're going to do "Excisional Arthroplasty" and put a piece of tendon from my forearm in it's place. Ewww! I lied about not sparing you the details.

In preparation for my surgery, I've been practising doing things with my left hand. I'm very afraid! Do you know how hard it is to use your left hand for things? How am I going to put deodorant on my left armpit? I have some visuals, but you wouldn't want me to share them. I don't know how I would get back up off the floor anyway.

Can mascara actually blind you? My hair!!! My physical appearance is at stake! My personal hygiene is going to go to pot.

BUT....

Here's the worst thought.......how am I going to wipe my......oh crap! I mean - I've been trying it out and I may need to hire a royal butt wiper. I know, I should use my friends for that to give them the chance to serve their fellow being - and many have offered mind you. BUT (everyone I know has one) I just couldn't let them. I'm one of those type of people that if I hired a cleaning lady I would have to clean before she got here. The good news is I still have a week and a half to keep practising.

If you're still talking to me after all this information I would appreciate any form of entertainment for the week and a half I will be home. Except for the day I scheduled going to the dentist (I figured if I was going to be on pain killers already - what the heck!) I should have some really fun postings when I'm under the influence. Remember this from my last surgery?

Rated Aaaaaargh!

Ahoy there, Mateys! Did you know yesterday was "International Talk Like a Pirate" Day? Shiver me timbers! Just when you thought you heard it all! First, National Underwear Day and now we be havin' to listen to a bunch of scallywags puttin' on terrible, awful accents! That's all I'll say about "Talk Like a Pirate Day" - I'll be sure to mark my calendar for next year! The history of the day is pretty fun if you click on the link. I could invent a few "days" myself.

This wench could shout "aaaaaargh" for me own reasons! (Help! I can't stop talking like a pirate!) Me computer keeps kickin' me off the Internet! That's a good 'ol pirate word, Internet! I could go all sorts of places with that one, but I'll spare you from the torture.

So here's your question: What "day" would you like recognized?

Have You Gained Weight?

Isn't it funny that people ask, "Have you lost weight?" but they never ask, "Have you gained weight?" I wonder what kind of reaction that would bring. Turn the tables and say, "What have you been doing? You look like you've gained weight. Tell me the secret!"

"Is your butt getting bigger? Is that a new chin?" Or the real live question that I have personally been asked about ten years ago, "Are you pregnant?" They don't ask me that now because........maybe I look too old? Or my butt's caught up with my gut and I look more balanced?

There is just so much pressure to be thin! Especially if you used to be thin and you're not anymore. Sometimes I pray before I leave my house, "Please don't let me run into any old boyfriends today." I can just hear them saying, "Wow, she blimped out." Well, hello! It's hard not to get bigger than a size three!!!! That's the bad thing, there's no place to go but out!

What really sucks is when you have a husband that looks like a warped toothpick. I have a saying, "Thou shalt not weigh more than thy husband." What if he had to carry you out in a fire or something?

I guess on a positive note, the fat stretches out the wrinkles a bit, so you look a little younger. What's the use of being skinny if you look like a prune? And if the wind blows, you don't need to carry any rocks in your pockets.

Happy Underwear Day!

Today on our local morning show they said a new Operation Game came out to celebrate National Underwear Day. "Cavity Sam" is sporting a new pair of boxers and has a few new ailments, one being "Phone Finger" and something about a "Blast Zone" which is where gas is passed. It's not called "Blast Zone" but something about toxic gas. That is something I would not try to remove on purpose, because I have two males in the house that are frequently releasing their own toxic gas on a regular basis. In fact my friend was talking about how boys always leave skiddies in their underwear and they never grow out of it. I agree! Which is why I don't do my son's laundry anymore.

Which brings us back to the "unmentionables" that are now broadcast everywhere. I looked up National Underwear Day and I realized we really don't appreciate what we have. They don't have underwear in some countries. They wear loinclothes or gourds (well, the men anyway) and they don't have the choice to wear briefs, boxers or tighty whities!

The beginning of underwear appreciation came when Calvin Klein erected a giant billboard in New York Times Square sporting a muscular man in nothing but briefs. People have been exposing their knickers ever since.

In the last couple of years my son would bring his friends over and each of them would be exposing their boxers at the top of their jeans. I would tease them saying, "I can see your underwear!" or "I see wedgie bait!" or "I see London, I see France, I see Brendon's underpants." Then they would hike up their jeans. I thought I would play a little joke on them and I bought myself a pair of LOUD boxers from Old Navy that had Hawaiian flowers all over them. I put them on under my jeans leaving the top exposed. I walked into my living room, pretending to drop something saying loudly, "Oooops! I dropped something" making sure I had all of their attention and I bent over to pick it up and exposed my new lovely boxers. It was great to see the faces of horrified teenage boys! I think they thought it was gross.

Celebrate National Underwear Day this coming Aug. 5. Treat yourself to a new pair of undies - a thong, boy pants, bikinis, granny panties, boxers or briefs. Show them off to everyone you know - be proud of your panties! Okay, not really. I'm a very modest person who thinks National Underwear Day is a crock. Now...National Bra Day.....that would be uplifting.

Thanks For Seeing Things My Way

Somehow, I stumbled across this video clip that said, "Sad song." I guess I was feeling emotionally stable that day and wanted to find out how sad it really was. It was kinda nice throughout the whole thing, the song is really beautiful, the actors are beautiful and at the end there was a "shocking" event. I thought, "That is so demented." I couldn't believe my eyes! And I couldn't believe the sappy comments made about the video. Doesn't anyone see how absolutely twisted this is?! When you watch the video, you'll understand my title a little more and see the humor in it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hhm4USUe3ng

It's not that I'm a cold person by all means, but how do people think up these things? I clicked on the English version and couldn't understand it anymore than the Korean version. Then I watched the version with English subtitles and the words are actually really nice, and like some of the comments said, had nothing to do with the video. Does anyone else think this is demented?

I thought I would include this picture for historical purposes. This is where my art talents started. I drew this when I was four years old, the same year my brother was born.

(He didn't know I was supposed to be an only child until later.) Just kidding! I mainly put this in because my dad would like a copy of it. I won't include the one I drew of you in the shower though, Dad!

Since this picture I have improved in my art skills and have changed my subject matter completely. Maybe I would make more money at it if I kept nature real - animals going potty, monkeys eating poo, etc. Another job opportunity in answer to my mid-life crisis!

Under The Influence of Pain Killers

I've had a little more time to write since I've been recuperating from surgery. I had a hysterectomy (where they remove your hysteria) and I was told that some people (mostly women) get very emotional afterward. My emotions have been mostly ecstatic but I have felt a little sentimental, too. I've been blessed with three beautiful children. But I'm done with it. I feel a little sad that I don't feel like I've lost a part of me, like some ladies. I kind of feel as if I owe my uterus somehow, like I should write an ode or something. Here goes:



Ode to My Uterus



Ode to my uterus - you have served me well,

But most of the time - you've given me ........heck.

Thanks for the womb service! But now I'm free.

There's womb at the top waiting for me!

Three babies have grown in my living womb,

But you've become an empty old tomb.

So thank you, thank you and thanks again,

Even though now there's no womb at the inn.





If you talk about your uterus, is it called a "chat womb?" I have some pictures from my surgery.

Scroll down to see.
























































































Did you really think I was going to show pictures? A womb with a view!?! I'm not that crazy! This isn't real estate where you can view properties womb by womb!