Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The burst happened two days ago

I'm angry.

Good God I am so very fucking angry.

I'm coated with it.

I have to hold all these things together and I am barely scraping by.

And then there is the ever-present pool of hurt and betrayal that encircles me, piercing me over and over with each whirl down, a callous snare that drags me into the deep.

I'm kicking and splashing and screaming as loud as I can, but the water does what it does by nature. It crushes me, it steals my energy, it pulls me down and down and down.

What do I have? How can I possibly be everything that I feel that I should be to be accepted and loved? Where is my devotion? My wholeheartedness. Why does this have to be so hard? How long to I struggle before I give up?

Can't it bring me peace instead of only pangs of defeat?

I find myself  in empty parking lots and screaming. Screaming until my breath is gone and my tears have all been driven out of me in exodus, falling from my cheeks.

My heart has fallen into nothingness. It throbs, it suffocates. But in this darkness I can't find it.

I don't know where it is.

If I give up my search the fluttering beats may give way to silence.

I don't know if i'm okay with that.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

This is the part where i apologize.

I have Bipolar Disorder. Manic/Depression Disorder.

Part of this means that my life makes more sense in retrospect. Sometimes clarity and realizations don't come until years later.

And lately it has become more and more clear to me how much I have hurt the people around me when I ride my waves of Mania that make me feel awesome but act crazy and explosive.

And I really need to apologize; probably to everyone I have ever met. So here it is. Each apology on here is for a specific person, but for the sake of your privacy I won't include your name. If you are on here, you will probably know it when you see it. And if I have missed you, know that yours is forthcoming.

From the depths of my soul I am sorry.

I'm sorry I sped down the highway during the pouring rain putting on makeup even though you were begging me to slow down and be safe.

I'm sorry that I was funny and charming for a few days and then turned into someone that you didn't even recognize anymore. You fell in love with a girl that woke up one day and couldn't love you back. It wasn't fair, it's not how it was supposed to happen. I didn't want to hurt you when I shut down, but I didn't want you to be tied to me when I was only the shell of what you knew.

I'm sorry that I made promises I couldn't keep. That I flickered and faltered and changed the course of our lives forever. I broke you when I broke our engagement. I know that now.

I'm sorry that I dropped our friendship off the face of the Earth without a thought.

I'm sorry that I wasn't honest with you; I should have let you go before I started seeing someone else.

I'm sorry I yelled at you in the car that morning at 5am. You were just being yourself, and I was cruel and naïve and shallow to say that that wasn't the right way to be; I had NO RIGHT to say any of that.

I'm sorry that I got so wrapped up in my teenage puppy love relationship and forgot what was truly important, taking care of my best friend, my sister. You were in a terrifying new world filled with uncertainty and fear and pain and I didn't see it.

I'm sorry.

Years later, these realizations come bubbling up to the surface of my mind. Relics from another time, worn and faded, but the pain comes through those memories and events as if it was fresh. It feels like another person that did all those things to you my friends, past loves, my family, but it was me. I will have to find a way to make peace with that eventually, but for now know that I deeply feel sorrow for hurting you.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Morse code


my life as a woman coping with bipolar disorder, from the outside, would look like morse code.

a tiny dot of mania, long dashes of debilitating depression.

and I am at the mercy of the chemicals in my brain. like being tied up and alternatingly being tied to a furnace, and when the switch flips on I can ride a unicorn across a rainbow or whatever image more accurately expresses elation. I have no choice. I cannot "just suck it up". I can't just get over it. For years this is what the world told me to do. To just "get over" myself and stop crying. So for years I felt like I was a failure. Like I was a liar. Like I was worthless and broken.

now I understand that my mind has a disease. and i'm learning the painful truth of what that really means.

today was another one of those days where I don't want to be anywhere. I don't want to do anything. I just want to be dead. I want so badly not to be here anymore. and the scary truth of it is that if I didn't have my children, and if I didn't have this medication to help even me out, that I probably would just end it. those short dashes of happiness are just so short, so far away. hardly worth the pain of the months between them.

I did something bad. except that I don't feel bad about it.

I cut my psych meds in half. I appreciated being more even, for my highs and lows to not be chasms and mountains, but I think that feeling blank and empty and numb in it's own way may be worse.

since I cut back I cry a lot more. but at least I can fucking cry.

I want to see if this will affect my manic periods. if maybe i'll feel that fantastic freedom again that I used to feel before I knew what was happening to me and got medicated. my memories of those times are sparkling. full of that feeling you get when you're driving or riding so fast and you lean your face into the wind and the air rushes around you and lifts your hair and you feel like you are invincible, like you're flying.

give me a few weeks, a few months, then the light will come back on and these posts will be funny again. but until then, I've made the decision that I won't hold back and I won't be ashamed of my feelings and who I am. so these posts yes are dark but they are a part of me and I won't apologize for that.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Burning your house down; It's not really that fun.


I know, I know, I haven't bloooogged in a long time. But I have a valid excuse.

I've been stuuuuuupid busy.

Which translates to I had a baby, learned to adjust to two screaming children, and maybe sort of accidentally burned my house down and lost everything our family owned.

Ok, I exaggerate. We did make it out with a handful of clothes, two of Ronin's blankets, 2 coats, a teddy bear, and two pairs of shoes. And one of our two family pet cats.

When your house burns down it's like going through a speed round of The College of Hard Knocks educational courses.

Our friends, family, coworkers, and utter strangers opened their hearts and homes and pockets and kept my family from drowning in despair and homelessness.

I've learned that the only things that i'm truly attatched to are my family and our memories. The only things I'm upset about losing in the fire (and we did lose EVERYTHING) were the kids' baby footprints we had framed on the wall, and the baby blanket I made for Teva while I was pregnant with her. Everything else was just stuff.

Expensive, waterlogged, smoky, charred up barbequed stuff.

I'll always miss our little kitty Lady. The poor baby ran and hid when the smoke and flames filled the house and the fire department wasn't able to find her until it was too late. Our cat Mischief ran to the front door and stayed there and they got him out before he suffered more than a singed ear and some smoke inhalation.

I won't go into any more of the sad depressing details of that fateful day in May. Instead, I will make a list:

Krista's Tips For What To Expect When Your House Burns To Ashes and You Lose All Your Junk:

1. Everyone will want to help you. Don't resist; LET THEM. It's not weakness, it's a strength to let others help. Write down everyone's name and contact info if you can, so you can send thank yous later; you will want to.

2. Cry and scream and let all the tension out. It's better to just let it go so you can begin to heal and get back to a normal life.

3. Be glad for the little things. The clothing restoration company that went through the rubble of our house was able to clean and save Teva's teddy bear and Ronin's blanket; I cried when I was able to give them back to my kids. They snuggled them up immediately and suddenly things didn't look so bleak; I still had a few pieces of "home" for them to hold on to.

4. Don't let your insurance company dick around. It took our insurance company (progressive) 7 months to get our settlement to us. 7 very expensive months. They are no longer our insurance company, truth be told.

5. Look on the bright side; now you don't have to go through allllll that effort to have that garage sale; all the things you've been hoarding is gone and you can start hoarding again from scratch!! How fun.

6. Thrift stores will be your best friends; we got a lot of clothes and books and kitchen things there.

7. Jokes about "burning this mothafuckah to the ground" get a little less funny to your friends, and a little more ..... "well, shit, dude, she might actually do it." Just a tad less funny.

Ok. So that's all i'll say about that. I don't want to beat a horse that's dead AND charbroiled.

Ha! Fire joke.

So. Bottom line:

Burning your house down isn't all fun and games and tra-la-la like the Hollywood Machine would have you think. (I say Hollywood because, hey, you gotta blame somebody.... and Brad Pitt and the rest of Ocean's 11 is a pretty good place to start.... and not just because i'm still bitter that Matt Damon didn't wanna marry me.)

Probably not a good idea, kids.


Saturday, September 29, 2012

Barry White and other Sexy Stuff

How does one make a soundtrack for a raunchy book? Let's say, a book like Fifty Shades of Grey.

I doubt it would have anything to do, at all, with the book. I'd be willing to bet my lacy knickers that it would just be a whole slew of funky tunes to groove, grind and get some sweet lovin' to.

Either a ton of Barry White, or just a whole album of non-descript instrumental naughty music.

Either way, I wouldn't buy the soundtrack. I'm cheap. I'd rather just hum my own little dirty-ditty to myself as I read.

I don't think I'd ever make it in the prestigious porn music business. No one can get off to an upbeat, peppy tune of "bom, chee, bom bom buh chee chee, boom dee, bom bom ba dee dee" that I would try to pass off as sensual.

I have difficulty creating sexiness. You know, actions, situations, "come hither" looks. Not suprising as my Libido is about as smoldering and spicy as a bucket of slugs, wet with the morning dew.

Mmm... What's cookin' good lookin'?
In other news...

I'm losing my "baby weight" that I gained with my daughter at an.... acceptable rate. well, i supposed I could even call it a good rate, considering the fact that i haven't been medically cleared for exercise since i was sawed in half and pryed open with the Jaws of Life.

My loving, delicious hunk of Man Meat of a husband tells me most every day how good I'm looking, and that I'm beautiful. Here's how today's conversation went:

Mike: You're looking so great, Honey! I gotta admit, when you walked away from me in the mall today, I was enjoying watching that Badonkadonk sway!
Me: Thanks, Babe. I'm getting it back!
Mike: You never lost it.
Me: Um.... then... I have some pictures for you to look at. (referencing my 2010 Rise to Blimp-hood)
Mike: Ok, maybe last pregnancy, when you got up past 200 pounds, you might have been pushing it a little.
Me: Well, I wanted to see if I could make it work in the Double Century realm. It turns out it wasn't cute. Not cute at all. I might have lost it then, it might have gone south fast, really fast.
Mike: It might have wandered away....
Me: Yeah, it was.... something.

But still cute, though, right?

In a nearly related note; i keep having these stressful sex dreams in which i wake up just seething with anger.... foaming at the mouth.... other angry autonomic bodily responses.

the one i had last night went thusly.
I was cuddling with one of Mike's Army buddies, telling him about my problems, hopes, dreams, feeling etc, and he's listening and chiming in appropriately and sweetly and for all intents and purposes i'm having an emotional affair.
which i'm fine with.
because in the dream Mike is furious with me for even being there where everyone is, because i'm "messing up the firewall and now he can't download his porn, get off, or meet up with other people".

i woke up the next morning, stayed mad for a good hour, and then decided that YES it was just a dream, my husband is still my loving husband, and i dont need to go a-murderin' yet.

also, i'm not going to the mall again until i'm under 150 pounds. i went today and nearly instantly regreted that decision.

yike. too tired to finish. going to bed. and NOT in the fun way, mind you.


Monday, September 3, 2012

Laundry and Jealousy

Laundry may very well be the Bane of my Existence.

I say may be because although it is currently the chore that most makes me want to curl up into a quivering Ball of I Quit, things do change and chances are I'll find some other compulsory task that fills me with even greater loathing than the endless cycle of Haul-Wash-Dry-Fold-Hang-Whine-Pout.

As it stands, my laundry is 85% done, and that's going to have to be good enough. I'm firmly curled into my physical position of Ball of I Quit.

So now I'm sittin' sloppy and looking at pictures of pretty dresses on the interwebs and counting down the days until I can start working out again.

I could pull this off, right?

I'm very anxious to get my Pregnant Size back down to my normal Krista Size.

But not enough that my desire for more cake has been smashed. Because that primal urge is very much alive and well.

Drool..... now if only I had the skill to make this. $45.00 is too much to pay for someone else to make it for me.

Huh. Kathry Griffin was in Muppets In Space. Who knew?

So..... it occurs to me that for all my maturity, in many ways I have a LOT of growing up left to do. Let me explain.

My husband is super hot. Seriously. He's a delicious hunk of sweet sweet Man. And because he's a super personable super hottie, he gets hit on a lot. Which INFURIATES me. Not that he's getting hit on, necessarily, because I know he's totally all mine and he loves me completely; but because I'm just a whiny jealous little girl.

Yes, I'm jealous of my smokin' hot husband and the fact that I don't get hit on anymore. At all. And he does. All the fuckin' time.

He tells me over and over that I'm beautiful and attractive and so on and so forth, and I smile and say thanks...... but it still doesn't change the fact that men don't even bat an eye at me anymore and girls all over the DC area are falling head over heels for my charming (but very unattainable) man.

So, like I said, I have a LOT of growing up to do.

And let's start with going to bed. Goodnight!

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Let's get weird.

It's always difficult for me to find a way to dive into these posts.
I guess a non-descript awkward intro is as good as any.

Since we last..... heard.... from my brain i was 17 weeks pregnant and all hopped up on ambien. Well, if one CAN be hopped up on ambien. It might be more accurate to say i was getting sloppy and fizzling out on ambien. that sounds better.

the rest of my pregnancy felt a little something like this:

long story short, i had a baby GIRL (Teva Corinna Caoimhe Custer) about 3 weeks ago, pregnancy sucks a bag of soggy moldy pig knuckles, and the only thing keeping me from spiraling into drunken self-loathing/medicating is the staunch fact that the alcohol would pass into my breast milk.

it's a thin, thin line to walk but i do because i want what's best for my little girl.

there is plenty of time for me to be self destructive after the kids leave for college. or the army. or to be bums off of the government's (oops, i mean the TAXPAYER'S) dollar.

it's interesting, not being pregnant anymore. some things are the same:
1) I'm still waaaaaayyy fatter than i care to be.
2) my feet and knees still hurt.
3) none of my shirts fit.
4) i can forget about looking cute, too.
5) i still have to give myself shots everyday.

some things are different:
1) my boobs are ginormous. epic, even. seriously. one of my boobs is about twice the size of my infant's head.
2) i no longer crave iced apple filled donuts everyday. now it's every other minute.
3) from the waist up i look like.... a slightly thicker/voluptuous version of myself.
4) from the waist down i look like a thickly scarred mistake of a train wreck of a humanoid.

so, let's just say i don't feel very attractive lately.
in fact, i feel about THIS attractive.
just to be clear, i feel like the individual on the left. except that, as i may have mentioned, my boobs are considerably bouncier.

turns out, surprise surprise, that it's harder to bounce back from a subsequent pregnancy than it is the first one.

case and point, i looked back through my Facebook posts to after i had my first kiddo (Ronin), just to see what my weight loss progress had been around two weeks postpartum.

i should NOT have done that. something tells me that it isn't fair to judge my current body by my younger body's standards, but it's still hard to not feel inadequate when i see that last time I'd lost 40 pounds at this point instead of my measly 16.

meh. whatever.

postpartum depression sucks a pee-stained roach bespeckled rug.

wow. 3 weeks of getting less than 4 hours of sleep at one time is turning me into a really bitchy-witchy.

there we go. maybe that made you smile.

here's something...

Mr. Alexander Skarsgard of True Blood (he plays Eric Northman), was in Zoolander. Don't believe me? Does ORANGE MOCHA FRAPPUCCINO ring some bells?

but then again, of COURSE Alexander Skarsgard is in Zoolander; he's really really really really really ridiculously good-looking.

to use my husband's method of ranking hotness- Alexander Skarsgard would get it. yeeeeaaaaaaapp.

well, it's time to feed my new Tiny Human. and even though he says "no Mommy, I all clean", i KNOW Ronin has a diaper that needs some attention.

so i hope this is good for now. aaaaaaaaaannd maybe it won't take me 22 weeks to write my next post.


Saturday, March 17, 2012

Pregnant Beeches be CRAY-ZAY!

Beeches. as in multiple Beech trees.

i'm sure they're all mentally unsound when they are with child.


my hormones are taking over and it's alarming how very OK with it i am...... devilish grin. smiley face.

Tiny Example: i'm eating my Feelings in the form of Chocolate Ice Cream and a Strawberry Lemon-Cream cupcake. the flavors dont exactly mix but i'm shoveling it in so fast that i don't care.

Medium Example: Started crying uncontrollably while listening to this song in the car and thinking about my husband, son, and unborn child-
pretty self explanatory really.

Large Example: A week and a half ago someone stole our trash can from out in front of our house after the garbage truck came by. A day later my husband spotted it sitting in plain sight in our next door neighbor's back yard. (this is the same family that claims "Chris", name changed to protect his identity.... like i care... who stole all the food out of our pantry, cleaned out boxes of frozen meats from our freezer, his crackhead girlfriend stole my expensive brand new unused shampoo and conditioner, trashed our back yard, and left my kitchen a sticky mess.) to be clear, OUR trash can is light light light grey with a forest green lid. all of THEIR trash cans are black, lid-less, and have their address painted on the side. so there was no reason to believe that it was an "honest mistake of identity". those Triflin' Bitches straight up stole it. and that Friday, at the next garbage pick up the can didn't come back out front. by Monday, the Piss and also the Vinegar had built up inside me, and heated to the boiling point or whatever the cliche is. so the Hubby and i started to make plans.

     Plan A: Steal the trash can back in the night... as their back fence's gate is broken and has been laying on the ground for months now. However, i frown on trespassing. in Texas, Trespassing on private property CAN and USUALLY WILL involve the use of Firearms. Preggo Krista ain't into it.
     Plan B: Take our trash bags over and put them in OUR can during the light of day. If we were caught, we'd say something dumb like "oh, don't mind me. just using MY trash can that MaGiCaLLy lives in YOUR backyard now"
     Plan C: Knock on their front door, and when they open it hand them our trash bags and ask if they can put it in our trash can that they stole.

     Plan D: in a fit of rage, take the trash bag out of the front yard where it was ready for the next morning's pick up, take it to my backyard, and hurl it wildly and loudly AT my trash can next door.

This ultimately proved to be the most effective plan. A wild animal tore open the bag that night (which had landed.... Near.... my trash can), which resulted in Ronin's used UNHOLY ANATHEMA-filled diapers being strewn across their yard. Muah. Ha. Ha.

What happened?

they waited until about 5pm or so.... then "cleaned" it up by dumping it all in our trash can, and they deposited it back in front of our houses.

Thanks Bi-otch!

i felt so...... JUSTIFIED and vengeful tossing that bag over the dividing fence.

so, bottom line: hooray for hormones. they let me DO WHAT I WANT!!

tell you what though, this is Krista's LAST pregnancy. ever. sorry Hubby, i know you wanted one thousand babies. kiss your dream of the last 998 goodbye. it aint happening.

Reason 1: I severely detest giving myself a shot every day.... even though it "prevents" possible blood-clot related Mommy Death.
Reason 2: as my belly gets bigger i find that i can no longer comfortably pee with my knees together. gotta pee like a man pooping.... knees apart. which doesn't help my already laughable Urine Aiming Talent that like most women, i suffer from.
Reason 3: I'M FAT!!
Reason 4: If my boobs get bigger with each pregnancy, and they're THIS HUGE on THIS one at only 17 weeks in, then i'm going to snap my spine trying to hold them up if i get knocked up again. As it is, i'm overly nervous about when my "milk comes in". Although, my Hubby ASSURES ME that my heaven-sent sweater-puppies are in fact devine.
Reason 5: My husband has VICIOUS MUTANT MURDER-SPERM. you saw how my last kid turned out. He was (and is) perfect and handsome and utterly endearing and sweet. but he did try his best to mutilate me in the process of his glorious entrance into the World of the Living. This next kid might have me pushing up daisies as it is; finish what it's brother started. and..... i'm too..... fun to die? Funny? friendly? random? uhhhhhhhh i'm definitely too SOMETHING to die. i don't know. let me know if you have something that can fit here: "Krista is too ________ to die."

And to close, one of my personal favorite endings....

10 Cute Things That Ronin has done Lately:

1. The "i'm pulling it from a Full Cry-Face to see if you're still watching" Cry Face.

2. Ronin has switched from calling me Mom to MOMMY! in varying degrees of volume which i find impossibly endearing.

3. He like to crawl under to covers with me and we both say "Comfy Cozy!" which, coming out of his mouth sounds like "domdy dohdy".

4. Put a paper bag over his face and put his hands and face through the hole it'd cut out of it for him, then walked around the house, bumping into things saying "i dee do dobot" (translation: i am a robot).

5. He likes to "play" with the kittens with their new Feathers-on-a-stick toy. Well, he calls it play, Mike and I call it Potential Vet Hospital Emergency visit. He also likes to project his LED light stars up on the wall for Mischief to bat at.

6. Speaking of cats, Ronin's favorite game is "Ronin's A Kitty"! he crawls along the top of the couch going "meowme meowme" meowmommy"...... 

7. He likes to play Tents with Papa. they climb up on Mama and Papa's Big Bed and Ronin says Tent! Tent Papa! Mike pulls the covers up and over then and then all i hear for the next 5 to 10 minutes or so is hushed giggles and "sillly papa" from the other room.

8. So that The Simpsons's opening theme song is one of Ronin's favorite songs. and now he's interactive with it. He'll also point at the door to the music room for Lisa to leave!

9. Ronin has been giving the Baby (encased in it's bump on my belly) a kiss every night before bed time. the other afternoon we were just cuddling on the couch and i said "Ronin, where's the baby?"
he reaches over and pats my tummy saying "BeeeeBee Mommy". then he LEANS IN and puts his cheek next to my belly and puts his arms around me so he could give the baby his first hug from his big brother. i LOVED it soooooooooo much.

10 a few nights ago Mike and I put on Ronin's ULTIMATE FAVORITE SONG; The Credit Song for Portal 1 called "Still Alive" shown here:
the song itsself starts at 45ish seconds into the clip. it's cute, it's short, hell..... i'ts MY favorite song too.

so we put this on and Ronin squeals in the delight, he holds onto the Kindle that it's playing on, and proceeds to spin around and around i can only suppose out of joy.... though me might be trying to initiate a sudden acute onset of Vertigo. but it was so cute. even after he sat down because he was too dizzy, it wasn't enough so when he fell onto his side that's where he ended up watching the last few notes.

I'm sure i have more things to write about buuuuuttttttttttsaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

Please leave comments here or on my facebook page which is on my profile page on here if you need to find it.

Per shmittles! next time we talk, we'll know if there's another Custer Man coming or a Custerlette.  Cast your votes and make your voting pools now. due date is Aug 27..... go. just make sure i get a cut of the winnings. preferrably in the form of diapers.

I love y'all! and if you know anyone that needs a chuckle or a laugh or would otherwise enjoy my blog then please share it. i dont get any profit for what i write, i just like to write and laugh and spread some happy around.


Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Maturity and Other Grown-Up Things

Welcome to my blog, 2012.

Um, I'm pregnant.

HOORAY!! I love being pregnant. In addition to the "normal happy mommy" reasons for bliss, I would like to add these additional personal reasons of my own:

1. I get to be fat without feeling guilty or ugly about it.
2. Stretchy Maternity PANTS!!
3. I get to live in pajama/sweatpants for almost a year while I swell and deflate.
4. My hubby is more inclined to give me Squeezie Feets.

So, just to get y'all up to speed, we're still in Maryland, Ronin is picking up new words right and left, Mike is dropping his officer packet, and I'm almost 9 weeks preggers.

Now on to the fun stuff!!!!!!

I thought a lot about what Maturity is today.

Maturity: Buying the Pop-Tart flavors that my toddler likes instead of the flavors that I want.

Maturity: Only eating one helping of fried rice instead of 5 because I'm eating for One and One Fetus and not One and One Litter.

Maturity: Being okay with myself for only having two solid examples of personal maturity.

The next few things I've been saving up. I have this tiny notebook that I'm pretty sure I yoinked from work several years ago that I write things down in. So the next segment is just a couple random quotes from my average day, or normal thoughts that traipse through my skull-goo.

*Krista (holding bras up, speaking to Mike's turned back): "Lacy Sexy titslings!"
Mike (turning around): "Titslings?! I had to turn around to see what they were. I was imagining little creatures that had sprouted from your breasts... you know.... Tit-lings."

*It's not playful if it makes me cry inside. (Mike's rebuttal- yes it is!)

*Is it mold... or Jalapeno?

*But I was doing my Barrel of Monkeys dance... and you stopped me mid-Barrel of Monkeys dance...

*I think you'd be hard pressed to get Jesus to pick your boogers for you.

*There's nothing more frightening than someone threatening you with a knife while you're trying to purchase a feminine hygiene product.

*Dear Hulk Hogan,
Please tell me what kind of shampoo and conditioner you use because I envy your luxurious silken fur.
Love, Krista

Here are my predictions for 2012, because I'm like  1/2,586,432 Mayan or something.

1) Tori Spelling, the Perpetually Pregnant woman, will be the next "20 kids and counting"/Octomom.

2) I feel another "The Hulk" movie remake coming on...

3) Funk is going to make a full come-back this year. Just funk... in general. The normal kind.

4) Georgia will continue to suck.

5) President Obama will fart audibly in public.

6) So will Ke$ha, although that will probably be the least disgusting thing she'll do in public all year.

7) I will be back to my pre-preggo weight by December 31st!

8) Lindsay Lohan will completely spiral out of control, while Mary-Kate Olsen recovers and gets healthy (I'm rooting for you, MK!)

9) My chest hair will finally grow in.

10) I will get you to envision how I would look in a swim suit with massive amounts of chest hair pouring out of it.

Hey, I didn't say they'd be important predictions or anything.

time for some Lucky Charms.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Waffley VonBlintz

hummanah hummanah hummanah. sheebow sheebow. woooootboing.

ok. i've psyched myself up. i'm ready to write.
in bed, in pajamas, in the semi-dark.
windows are open so i can listen to the rain, and my computer is nestled on top of two pillows.
if not perfect, then it's a near-perfect writing environment.


so i went to Texas for 6 weeks while my hubster was off wasting his time, against his will, in some stupid course for work.

in these short 6 weeks, my house got trashed by my cat/housesitter, Mike's car got towed, and i lost my awesome and very sweet phone.

i dont' want to dwell on these negative things... let's just say the delinquent is on my naughty list and i can't talk to him because i'd say/do something that i regret; Maryland is STUPID. and oh yeah, i'm STUPID for losing my awesome and very sweet phone. also, phone insurance companies are STUPID. but they work. so you keep your head down and just barrel through the stupid. it will save you $250 dollars.

i kind of wish that i'd had a real wedding. well, mostly just the party part. you know, the reception. mostly because i'd love to do some goofy wedding dance like this:

except that my wedding party would KNOW how to dance and they'd be SHARP!! as a former Pearland Prancer and Ballerina, i would expect nothing less of my bridesmaids and groomsmen. i mean, if you're going to get out there and dance to something outside the Wedding-Cliche-Box, you might as well Cut the rug, not just trip and stumble across it. so i guess if i ever have an actual wedding/reception, i'll be holding tryouts for bridesmaids. so everyone brush up on your dance moves!! watch some Napoleon Dynamite, or watch this:

it will teach you EVERYTHING you need to know.

my question is, how on earth do you go through TWELVE boxes of pop-tarts in three weeks? you'd have to have between 2 and 3 a day.... i guess it's plausible. just not ethical. especially when they are not YOUR pop-tarts. they belong to the son of the lady whose house you are supposed to be watching/caring for while she's gone for six weeks. you pissant little putz.

i was so just royally miffed about the whole "my house sitter really screwed me over" business that the day that i came home, i couldn't get to sleep for the life of me because every atom of my being was livid. i ended up finally falling asleep that night and ended up taking a 4-hour angry-nap.

your mother would not approve.

so at the end of the day today, i had on thick black eyeliner, and i'd straightened my hair and put on a punky shirt and my hubby's plaid lazy pants. why? let's just say i listened to a LOT of Avril Lavigne today.

like, a LOT.

Dear Inhabitants of The Greater DC area:
I try to be nice and decent to you. I open doors for many of you; men, women and children alike. I say "yes ma'am" and "yes sir" and so on. I let people in when i'm on the freeway. I smile at everyone, I try to go out of my way to be friendly or to make people laugh.
So cut me a fucking break and be nice to me every now and then. Because, damn. Maryland, you're MEAN!
That is all,

So i walked out of the Ladies' room in a hispanic supermarket, and this dude asks me if there are any other women in there, as they need to get back to the ladder i just passed, back up into the ceiling and back to work. i tell him i don't mind checking for him. i waltz into the Loo and let out a loud "HELLLOOOUUUU....LADIES?!!" to which i hear him laughing. and it kind of made my day.

well, that and the Meerkats i saw later while i was at the zoo.

and the pregnant goat that i pet. i felt the baby's heartbeat. kind of extremely awesome.

i spent about an hour today watching Michael Grimm Videos like this one:
and ones of Jackie Evancho like this:
and yes, i know what you are all wondering.

it's true. i'm insanely jealous.

also, i've discovered that these past few months i've started forgetting how to spell simple words. words like "which". earlier in this blog, i spelled the word "time" like this: "him". what is wrong with me? all my brain are shutting down.

time to go see the neurologist again!!


so THIS is what it's like when i try to make myself write. also, when i've had too much riesling. whoops.

alright. well. maybe next time i'll write while i'm still sober. tee hee!!

oh, by the way. this nerve condition that i have definitely has some silver linings. my random goosebump patches offer me endless visual entertainment, and sometimes i'm so dizzy that it makes me nauseated for hours on end so i can't eat anything... which is great news for my jeans. those poor jeans, they've been working so hard this year. the last time i wore this particular pair that i speak of was 2 years ago. we're talking pre-spawning. and i was about 20 pounds lighter back then. i think i've put holes in the butt/crotch of every pair of jeans that i own since i found that i could force them back on my body. oh well. peek-a-boo. at least my panties are cute.

also, on a slightly related note, i really need to make sure that the curtains are CLOSED before i do a 1920's Flapper-girl inspired sexy dance for my husband. at least i was wearing my bathrobe which covers.... well, i guess it covers everything.

well nevermind then. let 'em look.

Love, Laughs, and Rubber Duck-filled Bubble Baths.