SOOOO much to catch up on!

OMG OMG OMG, you guys. SO much has happened since my last entry. Mainly confirmation that I'm lazy as hell, but also other events. So, first, let's discuss me. I got a new job. This might take a while to explain: it's pretty boring. Yup, that's about it.

In other news, my husband also started a new job. He's kind of a bad-ass at it. Can I say that on here? Cause it's true. He works at a resturant/bar and he's the beer guy/nerd/guru. So, that's exciting. I mean, for him. Not for me really at all. It's cool to be all proud of him and stuff, but when your husband comes home from work at 7:00am and you wake up at 7:00am, it can get annoying. Your pride in the dude is still there, but the annoyance finds it, like Raid to a roach, and starts to kill it. But, imagine if you're him. Having to hear from me every day about stuff and things. I bet he's so annoyed, too.

Hmmm. Did I say SO much had happened? Man. I really blew it, huh?

Um. Do you know my favorite ice cream flavor? It's cinnamon, so don't act like you did. That stuff is amazing. Kind of like my writing.

So. Um. How's your summer?

Over a month

It's been over a month since I've written anything. I have so many awesome stories in my head but syncing up wanting to write them out and having time to do so is really annoying. Props to real bloggers out there. This stuff is hard.
Maybe soon I'll get motivated to get more things down on paper...err...computer.
Maybe.

TODAY is an important day.

So, today is a pretty cool day, to me. And to a few other people, but I am the only one you should be concerned with right now. Or ever, maybe…
Today is the 24th of February and it is the 30th birthday of one of my best friends. Thirty. Wow. It seems so young now. But, really, it’s just a number, and I know that. What really matters is what you accomplish in life and how much it means to you. Well, this guy has accomplished a lot of awesome things and there are lots of things for him to be proud of. But personally, I think he should be most proud of being my friend. He probably isn’t, but I’m just saying that he should.
So, in honor of this friend, I’d like to go back in time and talk about our friendship. For the sake of simplicity, we’ll call him ‘Triscuit’.

Triscuit and I met through a boyfriend of mine, who isn’t my boyfriend anymore, but I am still friends with (so we’ll call him my ‘ex’). A group of us went to a lame concert in Dallas (Flickerstick, anyone?) in the summer of 2001. I would like to state, for the record, that neither of us actually wanted to be at this show, thank you. Triscuit went to high school with my ex and he told us about this local band he was in. So, we went to see him at his next show and they were great. After, we all talked and Triscuit and I almost immediately hit it off. I could see why he and my ex got along so well and he starting hanging out more with us and our friends. But what ended up happening was Triscuit and I would alienate ourselves from the group and go off in our own little world, making each other laugh. We really went over the top a lot, and it was apparently really, really, really annoying to people. But we didn’t care because it was so funny and we were young and inconsiderate.
One of my favorite times with Triscuit during the beginning of our friendship was an afternoon we went to a Mexican restaurant together and sat outside. We drank Coronas and smoked Parliament Lights (he is officially credited with my former smoking habit) and talked about life, love and the pursuit. We probably also ate and we definitely made friends with a blackbird outside that day. I can’t remember anything specific we said, but I have a great picture of the two of us from that day and when I think of it, I know that’s when he and I broke through the friend barrier on the way to besties.
Being that he is a ‘he’ and I am a ‘she’ and that we got along so well, there was a brief moment in time where we dated. Was it great? Yeah, at the beginning. Was it right for us? No way. But at least we figured it out and found our way back to the friendship we knew was right for us. After dating, our friendship went through a roller-coaster phase. At some points we were close and others it seemed as though we might never speak again. But through it all, we still knew, deep down, that our friendship was unlike anything else. Well, honestly, I knew that, but he might have been like, ‘Whew. It’s so nice to have a break from her!’
I always made it a point to tell anyone I dated that I was friends with my ex and one of my best friends is a guy. If that person had any problem with it, they didn’t have to stay.
When I met my future-husband, it took Triscuit almost 7 months to meet him. And when they finally met, it was at my parent’s house on Christmas. I knew my boyfriend was really skeptical of this guy friend of mine, but after they finally met, the two of them totally hit it off (I knew they would). Knowing how Triscuit felt about him was almost as important as what my parents thought.
Months after that, Triscuit got a job at the same place I worked, so we got to hang out almost every day. It was amazing. At this time, I was good friends with quite a few people in the office, but it really wasn’t until Triscuit showed up on the scene that we all formed this tight knit group. He’s was like the super glue to our click. He was just what we needed to push our friendships to that next level. The next level is where, even though some of us didn’t work together anymore, we still talk and hang out on a regular basis. Where we all feel comfortable staying at the other’s homes and depend on each other…an extended family.
And now, here we are. About 9 years later and a million more laughs to go. Since we used to pride ourselves on alienating people with our jokes, I’m going to take a second and alienate anyone reading this so I can selfishly put some things down that make me think of Triscuit and smile.

Playstation.
“Hey. We really appreciate you coming out.” – Robin
Hospitals suck*. *Especially when you aren’t doing heroine.
Fun second.
Sublime – yuck!
The ‘I love golf’ song
The swimming pool ‘trick’ you are going to teach our kids someday.
Drive-though fights & TGIF fights over wine.
My August birthday.
Self-composed cell phone rings
Christmas service with your family.
Outer space.
Shells on a stick.
Piggy back ride. "Everything is good!"

Triscuit: Happy 30th Birthday! I love that we still alienate ourselves from people, but now we have such an awesome group of friends that will do it with us.
5

Oh, mom

Dudes.
My mom called me this morning and said, "So, do I need to come get you and take you to the doctor?"
I said, "No, mom. I'm on antibiotics now, so I'm good."
Then she chimes in with, "Well, I just feel like a bad mom. You've been so sick lately and I should have done something sooner."

Oh, by the way...I'm twenty NINE years old.
She's super cute, huh?

Did someone call for a doctor?

I’ve been sick for the past couple of weeks. And my God it’s been annoying. It hasn’t been the kind of sick that just goes on for 2 weeks – which is why it’s annoying. My sickness actually went away for a couple of days and so I started doing my normal activities again. And it came back. Strong. Like a real jerk. So, since I’d lived with it for a week, I thought I should just stick it out. But I finally caved and went to see the doctor. I just happened to get an appointment with my favorite one at my general practitioners office. So, that made me happy. But after our “meeting” I was reminded of our history. You see, I remember this history, because in my side of this story, I’m only seeing him. But I would venture to say he doesn’t remember me so clearly because he sees thousands of other people that aren’t me, every year. So, really, he’s the lucky one. To only have to see me a couple times a year – could you imagine?? It would probably be awesome. Here are some of the highlights of our time together. I’ll just refer to him as Dr. B. He doesn’t really need a name for the purpose of this game. Of course, you DO need to know that he’s a cutie, though. He is short (to me) but a super cutie – among his other great traits. I’ve seen him many, many times, but there are a few quality times I’d like to share. Thankfully, for all of these different visits, the setting will be the same – the office patient room. Of course it isn’t always the same room, but that doesn’t matter to you, does it? Didn’t think so…

Age = 16; Reason for visit = my yearly woman exam (my very first!)
Dr. B comes in and explains what will be happening and makes me feel at-ease, before he explains to me how to wear the paper gown and blanket for this particular exam.
I quickly get undressed and in these oh-so-comfortable “clothes” (can I wear them out?!?) and wait.
Dr. B (knocks and cracks the door open): May I come in?
Me: Yes, come in. I’m naked! And ready!
Dr. B (shaking head): Jesus

Age = 22; Reason for visit = not feeling like myself, going through some personal issues and have to see a Dr. to refer me to another Dr.
Dr. B: So, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.
So, I explain away – I won’t bore you with these details
Dr. B: Alright, so basically you just got a lot of shit going on in your head. And it’s fucking with you. So, all you’ve got to do is just get it out. Write that shit down on paper. Make a list of “things that are bad” and “things that are good”. I bet you have a pretty hard time filling out that bad side….
Visit continues…but seriously! What a bad ass! This dude cussed and spoke to me like a human. I already liked him, but man…it was getting serious. REMINDER: he HAS already seen my lady bits, too.

Age = 24; Reason for visit = It was the summer, but I was sick and needed to see my doctor. For this visit, my boyfriend (now husband) comes with me.
In the waiting room, I let boyfriend know he should come back with me, if he wants, so shortly after we are escorted to the room. At this time in my life, I’ve just graduated from college, but am still looking for a day-time job. What this means is I am still a bartender. And that means my boyfriend is dating a bartender.
Dr. B (knocks and slowly walks in): Oh my God! It smells just like a bar in here! Jeez guys!!
Visit continues…awesome! He knows what a bar smells like. That’s my kind of doctor!

Age = 26; Reason for visit = twisted my ankle a few weeks prior and it was still really hurting
Dr. B had it x-rayed and found out I’d fractured this ankle in 2 places. Oops.
Me: Yeah, but I’ve been walking on it for a few weeks. I mean, that must mean I have a really high tolerance for pain!
Dr. B: A few weeks? No. All that means is that you are stupid.
True.

Age = now; Reason for visit = this stupid sickness I was complaining about that got this whole mess started
Dr. B (knocks and comes in – as soon as he sees me, he shakes his head): Oh, now here’s trouble
We discuss the reason for my visit and he puts the stethoscope up to hear my heart
Dr. B: Well, it’s beating.
Me: So, it IS there?
Dr. B: Yes. But it is so cold.
We discuss the fact that I’ve been sick for 2 weeks and my stupid husband NEVER gets sick
Dr. B: Well, that’s a good thing.
Me: No, it is so annoying. Can you like give me some of this sickness in a jar so I can pass it to my husband?
Dr. B: I want no part in that. You are MEAN!
Me: No, it’s just frustrating. And he’s SO cocky about it, too.
Dr. B: He’s a GUY!
Me: Ugh.
Dr. B: Any other questions?
Me: Was this a waste of my time to come in? I mean, it’s just going away on its own, huh?
Then we spent literally 10 minutes talking about restaurants and bars and the beer we like to drink. Oh! And I left feeling better!

So, Dr. B – I know you don’t read this, but man do I adore you. You’re real and honest and so helpful. I feel bad you have me as a patient sometimes, but I think I keep you on your game. If nothing else, I help exercise your head-shaking muscles, right? And you better believe I hope someday my kids have a doctor as cool and smart as you are. Plus, you’re really cute.

Hearing about your kids is fun.

You know how parents love to talk about their kids? Like, all of the time? For the most part, I hate these talks. I don't have kids and I have my dogs to talk about, so I'm not sure if I'll have time in my story-telling adventures for kiddo talk, anyway.

But I do wonder about all the boring stories my parents told to their friends about my brother and I when we were growing up. Do strangers know about the first time I pooped in a toilet? Or maybe about the first time I mimicked my dad and said the 'f' word? How about when I first dressed myself?

No fair! I don't even know about those firsts! For all I know, I've never pooped in a toilet, used to 'f' word, OR dressed myself. Ummm. The point is...no stranger or non-family member cares about these things. So why do we feel the need to share? It has to be because we are certain our lives are THE most interesting thing on the planet. Or that we just don't have anything else to talk about. My guess is a combination of both.

Now, thank you for reading all about my life.

My husband is an idiot.

First of all, if you’re married to me, you shouldn’t be reading this. So, to clarify: what that means is, if you call me “your wife” and we said “I do” in front of friends and family in a church in REAL LIFE, do not read this.
So, here’s the deal. My husband is an idiot. I know most of you will think, “Hey, wait. She’s married to my husband, too?” But don’t worry. I’m not. Because I’m the only one stupid (do I mean ‘lucky’?) enough to marry this guy. Sure he seems great on paper – funny, SUPER nice, giving, adorable, hard worker, passionate, etc…but he’s a moron. Because he says things sometimes that are just idiotic. And he’s not saying it to be mean. Obviously. Otherwise I would say “my husband is jerk wad”. That’s not the case. He’s just a dude who doesn’t know that what he’s saying to help a situation is actually making said situation worse.
(deep breath) Let’s recreate:

Me (walking out the door for work): Sometimes it’s just hard to work 2 part time jobs because I just don’t know where either job is going
Moron: Well, you know what you’ve been told.
Me: Yeah, but that could be ‘lip service’ for all I know.
Moron: Listen, we all know you’re easily replaceable…
Me: Wait. So I should really be worried now. Thanks for making my uneasiness even worse.
Moron: No. What I’m saying is that you aren’t an asset.
Me: Ok. I’m going to work. Thanks.
Moron (panicky back-pedal): NO! I’m not saying YOU. I’m saying a person…
Me: Bye. I love you.

And I do. I really do. He’s great and he really doesn’t do things maliciously. So you can’t be mad at him almost ever. Like the time he got off work and went out with co-workers for ‘a beer’. Please keep in mind I’m not stupid. I realize what ‘a beer’ means. Mainly because I enjoy many ‘a beers’ quite frequently. But what I am learning is that ‘a beer’ to my husband actually means this:

This is the last communication from me. I will likely drink so much that being convinced to hang out at someone’s house after the bar closes (YES – I will stay until close) is a good idea. And then, I’ll probably drink more. And will only wake up when you have woken up to no husband at home, no car in the driveway, and no answer to my cell phone the first 4 times. THEN I will wake up, act like everything is cool (“yeah, I’m on my way home right now”) and get home an hour later, after you’ve left for work – hopefully.

And I don’t get mad. I really, really, really don’t. Frustrated? Sure. Defeated? You bet! But to drive the moron nail in the coffin, he did it again THE VERY NEXT NIGHT. Only this time, it was ok. Because, see, he was taking care of the co-workers who got drunk and needed rides. And needed to hang out more. And then needed to go get some breakfast at 5:30am. Oh, wait. That time I actually did hear from him. He text me asking if I wanted anything from Café Brazil around 5:30am. Bad move on his part, cause if it weren’t for that text, I may not have even noticed that he got home at 7:00 that morning.

God bless. My husband is still reading this. Hey, moron…remember what I said? That’s what I thought. So, you better not bring this up to me at dinner. When you’re removing your foot from your mouth so you can finish the perfectly cooked chicken and veggies I made for you. That you are eating in the beautiful house I just cleaned for you because I paid the mortgage on time.

Man! I’m such an awesome wife. What were we talking about...?

Something you might need to know about me:

"I think farts are funny. Like, SO funny. If you were already my friend, you would know this. It's not a state secret or anything, but I wanted to be sure I came out and said it before you get too invested in this whole thing."
I decided that if I wasn't married, this is how I would start all of my dates. But, luckily, I am married. To a wonderful man who makes me laugh each and every morning. Because he, too, thinks farts are really funny.

You only wish this was your Christmas morning...

So, we live in and around Dallas.  Which made for a very exciting Christmas, because this year, we actually had a White Christmas.  Fun!  But snow apparently doesn't make things easier or more jolly.  Beer and wine do, actually, but that discussion is for another time...Christmas Eve, I worked a 1/2 day and was off at night.  Jeff worked at night.  So we managed to come together in between to buy a few final gifts and eat some Mexican food for a late lunch.  (the thought of not having the ability to eat Mexican food for even one day in our household is rather scary...)

Again, it was the night before Christmas, except many creatures were stirring.  And they were dogs.  3 of them.  One, in particular (Dexter) is, as we are about to learn, obsessed with snow.  AND we learn the fact (yes, fact) that he owns it.  ALL of it.  The other 2 dogs get to deal with this any time they try to step paw on that snow.  Mr. Dexter will be there and he will pounce on them in addition to bark over and over.  Basically he's saying, 'get off of MY snow, if you want to live'.  Very annoying, if you're anyone other than Dexter.  Which we are.  I eventually get them inside and try to avoid taking all 3 dogs outside together again.

To prepare for Christmas the next day, I'm baking/cooking, feeling very wifely, especially when I learn the apple pie baking will coincide with Jeff getting home.  He loves apple pie.  Well, Jeff finally gets home!  And I'm so exhausted, but I'm ready for help wrapping and putting all of our ornaments on the Christmas tree (yeah, that little task was still on the 'incomplete' side of my to-do list). 
But Jeff, although home, is feeling sick.  This is a BIG deal.  He's felt sick about 3 times in the 5 years I've known him.  So, I throw in the towel and say let's just go to sleep.  And I do.  He stays on the couch, hanging with the dogs and the TV for a bit more and eventually comes to bed.

In the morning I wake up to my phone ringing.  Mom?  Dad?  Brother?  Santa?!?!  No.  It's CVS Photo lab letting my know the pictures we ordered that weren't ready when we needed them are now ready.  8:30am.  On Christmas.  So, I turn to Jeff and my Christmas morning begins:

He asks, "Who was that?" I say, "CVS photolab.  Those pictures are ready now.  You should go up there since I think I almost made the manager cry last night."  Then I ask, "Where is Zoie?" (Dog #3 - usually sleeps in bed with us.) He says, "She died." Very sleepy-headed, with a smirk on his face, but then says, "That's what I dreamed." I say, "Really, she's dead?  Or is she in her kennel?"  Him, "In her kennel."  Me, "Did you really dream she died?" (concerned)  Him, "No."  Me, "Merry Christmas (cuss)hole."  He chuckles.  And then farts.  The morning has begun.
So, I get up and let the 3 dogs out.  As Zoie is taking care of some sort of personal business, Dexter notices she is, in fact, in his snow, so he runs directly at her.  He is a bowling ball and she is now the pin.  This is SO annoying.  I'm over it. And by the looks of the sky, the sun is, too.  I bring them in for "puppy chow" time and just shake my head at our rude, much larger dog.  Soon after they eat, Jeff's decided to join us all.  And then I hear, "No!  No!  No!  No!!!!  Nooooo!!!"  As I look up to ask what's happening, I see him picking up Zoie, and taking her outside.  "She peed.  ON THE COUCH.  She was staring right at me!" Jeff says.  So, we spend the next 20 minutes working on stripping our couch and cleaning the fabric.  Not one bit of this was on the Christmas to-do list.

But soon, I am finally able to get to present wrapping.  As I begin, I realize a certain husband-someone is on the computer in the other room, not helping.  So, I politely ask and he proceeds to enter the dining room, ready to help.  (REALLY!?!?  ALL I need to do is ask?  This totally beats doing everything, not saying anything and being bitter.)

In the middle of the wrapping he turns to me and says, "I don't remember having to do all this work last year."  He's saying it as though he thinks we were giving a lot more gifts than last year.  But, that's not actually the case, you see.  "That's because last year I did all of it."  There's the real reason, my friends.  "Oh, okay."  he replies.  
And the conversation during present wrapping time is mainly about what movie we will be seeing.  But as the clock continues to move forward, I quickly realize this whole movie-on-Christmas-morning thing is not happening.  Another Christmas argument.  Followed by our tree finally getting decorated.  Followed by getting ready to head to my parent's house.  Followed by the greatness of this discussion...
I will play the part of 'A' and Jeff will play the part of 'J' (Christmas music playing in the background)

A: do you think after all his hard work Mrs. Clause does something for Santa?

J: Mayb-

A: Like a bj or something?

J: He's like, 'I'm home...get on your knees'.  Yeah, what does she really do?

A: Well, there's that song.  "Who reads the list of Christmas joys?  Mrs. Santa Clause..." or something like that.  But she can't really do THAT much.

J: She gets the elves to do it all.  What does HE really do?!?

A: He's really just a manager, right?  I mean, he just leads them.

J: He bosses them around.  He doesn't know how to make all those toys.  But he probably does need to keep up with current techology.

A: Do you think he has a genius bar?  I have to dry my hair, so I can't talk anymore.

And then we head to my parent's to celebrate.  

It was a lovely morning.

My English must be all screwy and stuffs

So, last night I sent a message to my loving husband. The subject was ‘Dog Food!’ and well, screw it, here’s the message:

From: Atypical Alecia
Subject: Dog Food!
To: Husband@mail.com
Sent: Tue 12/15/2009 10:18 PM

You really, really need to bring it in tonight. They are completely out now.
Also, the garage….
Love you lots and lots.
Me


Then I went on to discuss other things, but you only need the first part of the message. And to know that I said I loved him. Because then you’ll think I’m a nice wife. Which I’m really not. So…that subject remained the subject line for the following 5 message exchanges. The dog food bag has been in the back of the car since I picked up the dogs after our Thanksgiving trip to Houston to see the in-laws. So…that’s over 2 weeks now.
Ok, ok. I’m not saying that I could not have brought it in at another time. But, it was in his car and there is rarely a time when he’s not home but his car is. And it always seems to be when he’s not home that I remember we need to bring the food in.
So…flash forward to this morning. I wake up, let the dogs out (we have 3). They come in the house, all excited for “puppy chow” time. Only to find…nope, no puppy chow for you jerks. “Jeff” * doesn’t think you’re important enough to remember that you eat food. So, I ask this “Jeff” guy: ‘did you bring in the dog food?’ Oh, no, he forgot. Well, “Jeff” you should probably go get it, ‘cause these f-ers are hungry.
And still nothing. He falls back asleep. So, I ask again. And again. And again. Probably totaling about 10 – 12 times. NO real response from “Jeff”. Then, I remind “Jeff” that although I am now ready to leave for work, I will have to go get the food and it’ll take me another 20 minutes to feed the dogs and take them all out. Again, no real response.
So, I go get it myself. And I feed those adorable animals that we chose to bring into our home and care for. I did it. Yup. And then I take them out.

Here is a translation of what went down:

Cast of Characters (all extremely adorable):
Dexter – 85 pound Border Collie / Sheppard mix
Dignan – 12 pound Min Pin / Toy Fox Terrier mix
Zoie – 6 pound Chihuahua / Min Pin mix
Me – already a bit-annoyed
“Jeff” – a non-factor in any of this part of my story

Scene begins with Dexter deciding to play a couple of games:

Zoie: (pooping)
Dexter: growls (runs RIGHT up to Zoie as she poops and knocks her over)
Me: Dexter, let’s go inside
Dexter: bark (run around the back yard)
Me: C’mon! Everyone inside.
Dignan: (pooping)
Me: Oh, sorry Dig, I didn’t see you pooping
Dexter: bark (runs RIGHT into Dig as he’s pooping)
Dignan: bark (actually more of a cross between a girl and a bird scream)
(chases after Dexter)
Me: Damn-it! Everyone! Inside!
(other 2 dogs begin to obey)
Dexter: (run around GRABS something resembling poop; runs around more)
Me: Dexter, sit!
Dexter: (runs around)
(other 2 dogs now have jumped on top of a concrete block in backyard, observing the idiots)
Me: No!!! Sit!!
Dexter: (growl; run around; growl; eventual sit)
Me: Inside! (defeated)
All head inside.

I have determined that something is up. My message stating the dog food needs to be in the house clearly was not clear. My reminders to “Jeff” clearly were not clear. AND my discussion with my dog about going inside clearly wasn’t clear. I don’t have a lisp or an accent or anything. So, I’ve decided that my English is not as clear as I thought it was. Clearly.

And maybe that’s why sometimes I find things that I’ve asked for aren’t being taken care of. I think I’ll have to do more research on this and I’ll certainly get back to you…



*To protect the innocent, some names have been changed.

Dentists are supposed to ACT like real doctors, right?

It's my day off today. Not necessarily by choice, but I'll take it. You see...I had a "full-time" job. In an industry that deals with home builders. REALLY great industry to be in right about now. And for the past 2 years. So, instead of go down in lay-off heaven I elected to proactively cut my hours. My "choice" but, really, who are we kidding? The economy MADE ME do it. Let's discuss this at another time, shall we? Thanks.

So...back to my day off. I typically enjoy these days off. Even though I am not making money, I still get some time to myself. To do what I want. And sleep. Catching up on sleep plays a huge part of these days. Plus, as you'll learn, I also have a 2nd job, working at night. No, you "trying to be funnier than me" stupid-face reader, it's not as a hooker. It's at a restaurant. But not tonight. Tonight AND today was all Alecia. No showering (which actually IS typical) and no make-up.

So, you can imagine my joy when I woke up to the reminder that I had an "emergency" dentist appointment. Let's go way back to Sunday:

~I woke up, ready to greet the day! Translation: my husband (yes, someone elected to marry me) had to work so I was woken up to those amazing sounds. Mainly, him hawking lugies, in what seemed like a game of him trying to clog our master bath sink. After a lovely kiss goodbye (re-read previous sentence to find reasoning why this isn't so sweet) I was able to get back to sleep.

Only to be woken up again by...my mother. She called to tell me she was coming over. So, I asked if I could go back to sleep until she arrived and she agreed.

The 3rd wake-up was to her arrival. This time, I had to actually get up and out of bed. In doing so, I realized my left eye was a little tender. Bug bite. Great. Even when I sleep things have to find a way to bother me.

Day moves on and this bug bite thing just itches and annoys me. But I can deal with it, because I'm tough. And I don't really feel like being a baby about it. Plus, football is on. (end of Sunday) ~

Monday morning: bite STILL there. And, apparently I've been grinding my teeth all night, cause there's this little knot on the side of my face, near my left ear. Ugh. But, again, deal with it. I don't have time to bother. Because I need a root canal and I'm not ready to have *that* done to myself. I don't care what anyone says: dealing with the slight pain is better than the drill noise.

Until the knot gets worse (eye isn't much better either). So...I go to the dentist because it MUST be related to this damn tooth. But he can't see me. Not a surprise - I did just show up, unannounced. Can you believe he is seeing other patients? Typical. But they CAN get me in the next morning at 7:00 or 8:00. I chose 8:00. On my day off. My day to sleep-in.

So, I'm in the chair and the dentist feels the side of my face and the lump. He says it isn't likely related to my tooth. (I think: WHAT? You are crazy...they have to be related). Then, he tells me it's a gland or lymph-node or something and asks if I've had an ear infection. I say, "No, but I have had a bite or something on my eye for a few days."

Pay attention to what happens now:

I remove my glasses and the dentist looks at my eye and pulls back his face, repulsed, and says: "Ewww." That's right: Ewww. My dentist said Ewww to me and my face.

Feeling like a million bucks, I can barely contain my excitement when he tells me I need to see a doctor and get on anti-biotics. And feeling fully confident in his doctor-skills after his "Ewww" assessment I just CAN'T WAIT to get in to see another doctor.

So, I thank him for his time and head on home.

I pop a Benadryl and crawl in bed. Somehow, I have also developed a screaming headache over the past 30 minutes. I really want to throw some Excedrine Migraine in the mix, but decide against it, since, well, I don't want that lethal combo in my system if I happen to die of shame.

And I sleep. On my day off, when I had planned to accomplish SO much. Shoulda known to add "feel even worse about self" to the list.

Thank you Dr. Dentist. Thank you for your truly stunning bed-side manner that made me realize I don't deserve a nice day off. Not with this hideous face.

Drivers Drive Me Crazy

Seriously. YOU have a license? That is legal? That is valid? To DRIVE A MOTOR VEHICLE? I don't believe it. How?

This is how I feel about 80% of the drivers out there. For real. It's absurd the number of drivers out there who don't follow basic traffic / driving rules. So, to help all of you horrid drivers out there (pay attention owner of the blue Chevy parked out there) I am going to do a basic run-down of driving etiquette.

Blinkers: Use them! You paid for them. You can get a ticket for NOT using them. Believe me - I've been a passenger in the car when someone (cough, cough, Jeff, cough, cough) has gotten one. They aren't super expensive, but they aren't cheap either. And, it's just plain courteous.

Merging: DO NOT CROSS THE DOUBLE WHITE LINE. I can see how this might be confusing. I mean all the letters from mainly the beginning of the alphabet mixed up with some from the middle and end of the alphabet. So, here's what that literally means: don't cross over the two white lines. Except the sign is yelling that at you.

Left Lane: Freeways / Highway / Toll Way / roads with more than 1 lane - every one of them has an understood "left lane is for passing only" rule. Don't get in that lane to teach someone going fast a lesson. They're in the lane TO go fast. Get the heck outta the way. Just do it and quit bitching.

Lane Change: (1st refer to ‘Blinkers’ section) then look over your shoulder BEFORE and DURING said lane change. If you *happen to* cut someone off, give a wave and apologize. Even if it’s fake, it’s just the right thing to do since you chose to drive like a doucher.

School Zones: Go the limit. Don't speed in them. You are a freaking idiot if you do. It angers the other drivers, too. Don't make them angry AND miserable. They just want to get to work so they can be miserable there. Leave the anger out of it.

Lights: Pay attention. That light’s gonna turn. And it will likely be happening in the next 20 – 45 seconds. So, just watch it. You know? Just kinda keep an eye out to see if that red light changes soon. And then, GO. To be more specific, push the gas pedal and head through the intersection. Don’t be an ass if someone politely honks either. Just drive. You have somewhere to be, don’t you?

Toll Booths: It’s not a secret you’re driving. Or that you’re driving on a Toll Road. Get your money ready ahead of time. You moron.

I’m mad now. At this 80% of you who can’t seem to get this right at any particular point during the day. It can’t be THAT hard to follow the rules, can it? Try it. See how it feels. If you don’t like it, keep doing it. And don’t stop. Then, once your license is revoked when you’re 75 and unable to hold your bladder or the steering wheel, you can look back and decide. Was it worth it? If your answer is yes then you are welcome. If your answer is no, then you are also welcome. Because you would have likely died years earlier in a fiery car crash at the school zone intersection of the left lane on the Tollway while trying to go 45mph but then suddenly realizing you need money to be driving, so you change lanes without using your blinker and crash into a wall. Idiotic moron.

Behind every statement is another boring story….

So, I started Tweeting about 8 months ago. And the great thing about that (for you) is my thoughts HAVE TO be condensed to 140 characters. That can be very, very, very hard for me. Because I like to talk. A lot. And embellish. A lot. But what it got me thinking about is the fact that so many people share their thoughts, multiple times each day, and yet, there’s got to be so much more to whatever story or part of their story they choose to share. So, I thought today, I could pull an old Tweet out and tell you what was really going on with the statement I shared. Let’s see if the whole story really is better than the shortened version:
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Tweet: just saw a cop give a homeless guy a ticket. like giving courtney love a tranquilizer. what does that really do?
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Translation:

So, I had left my 1st job and was heading to my 2nd job. Most of the time, I take the Tollway, which bothers me, because I’m paying extra to drive to work; but it doesn’t bother me enough to use the “free” ways. When I was exiting, traffic was a bit bad for a couple of reasons. First, because it was afternoon rush-hour time and second, because a cop had his lights flashing and was pulled up partly on the sidewalk. Not such a big deal, until I realized the cop was out of their car, talking to a homeless person. And by talking, I really mean he was writing down in his little ticket-pad thing. The poor homeless guy was just standing there staring (probably so drunk) trying to pay attention to the cop. And all I can think about is how ridiculous this situation is. First of all: how does the cop know that homeless guy’s name? There’s almost no way he had a license on him. Or registration, for that matter. So, this is how I imagine the conversation between the Homeless Guy and the Police Officer:

HG: yes, officer?
PO: can I see your license or permit to be on this street corner, sir?
HG: no, but my name is, um, Harry. Um, Harry…Harry…Harry Red…Um…Harry Toyota, I mean. And my address is this corner.
PO: what are you doing on this corner, Mr. Toyota?
HG: trying to get some food or money for food, officer [HG hiccups]
PO: well, Mr. Toyota, you can’t be on this corner without a permit [PO clears throat and rubs nose with index finger real fast].
HG: oh, ok.
PO: this is public property and you cannot ask people for money on this corner.
HG: ok.
PO: don’t pull an attitude with me, Mr. Toyota
HG: [blank stare – then watches cars proceed through intersection, trying to avoid police car]
PO: now, Mr. Toyota, you’ve left me no other choice but to issue you a citation for solicitation
HG: ok.
PO: [writing ticket] what’s your address, Mr. Toyota?
HG: you can just put where we’re standin
PO: [finishes up, tears ticket off and hands to HG] maybe this will help convince you that next time, you shouldn’t be on a street corner asking for money
HG: yup [pees himself just a little]

Now, I feel the need to clarify here. I like police officers. Really, I do. I appreciate what they do for all of us and I respect them. But all I could think about was how that poor homeless guy now has to find another street corner, (where this cop won’t find him) and beg people for money to help pay his ticket. Because he has a scheduled court date in 2 weeks. Plus, he’ll need money for an outfit when he appears in court. But if he misses the court date, then he’ll have to wait at that corner where he was initially issued the ticket for a certified letter stating he missed his court date and now a warrant has been issued for his arrest. This homeless guy just can’t catch a break.

And then I wonder, if I gave him money, could I get in trouble? I shouldn’t have to ask every place I spend money to provide me their business license or permit, right? It’s just too much.

So, as I drive off, I think about that U2 song lyric: “A woman needs a man, like a fish needs a bicycle,” and I realize Bono could have just as easily written: “A homeless man needs a ticket, like Courtney Love needs a tranquilizer…”. So, I wrote it down and posted it. And that, my friends, is how my mind works when I am confined to 140 characters.

Thank goodness for this new invention of blogging.