Untitled - I just don't have the energy to think of one.

I want to preface this blog with this.  I am making fun of myself.  This is meant to be funny.  Please don't call me to see if I am okay.  I AM OKAY.  If you see me in the streets, do not give me hugs.  I repeat NO HUGS.  No pats on the back.  Just in general, try not to touch me.  This is a rule always.  I am fine.  Do not contact me unless you have a job for me, you want to give me money, or you want to hang out just because you are my friend.

So here's the deal.  On Tuesday I got laid off.  LAID OFF.  This doesn't happen to people like me!  Oh my friends I am here to tell you that "yes, it does in fact happen to people like you and me."  I got the news late in the day and was home by 4:00 on the sunniest, warmest day of the year so far.  It was like 70.*  I got home.  The Smooch isn't home only the housekeeper.  Don't judge me.  Yes we have a housekeeper.  I know, I know, we don't have any kids so we should be able to keep our house clean.  But because we don't have any kids we can afford a housekeeper (or at least we could.)  The housekeeper takes one look at me, gives me the biggest and best hug ever and immediately texts The Smooch to tell him it is time to come home.  I go to find liquor.



Day 1 - I am crying in this picture because it seems my gray hair is back. 
Guess I better get the permanent marker out.

When The Smooch comes home, he finds me standing in the kitchen drinking warm southern comfort.   I admit I drank. More than I probably should.  And by that I mean three whole drinks.  WHAT!  Shocker.  I told him that I knew I needed it because I couldn't taste it. I told him that I had a few plans of action on how to save and raise money.  They are listed below in no particular order.

Day 1 - Unemployment has not been good to my hair.

• I could sell my body for sex.  But first I would have to shave my legs.  I would donate the hair from my legs to locks of love, because that stuff is starting to get scary long.

• I could be a lounge singer.  The Smooch said that would probably cost me money, what with all the lawsuits from all the traumatized people.

• I could harvest the dogs kidneys (one each is three total) and sell them to some rich family who had a rich kid who needed a kidney bad.  I think this might be high dollar idea. 

 

Day 1 - I switch from whiskey to Mt. Dew. 
This may be a bigger mistake.

• I would live off my comedy skills.  My blog and my improv.  I would do that full time.  The Smooch reminded me that neither of these things actually pays any money.  Well, I'll do them like they are my full time job because I just don't have anything else to do.  Also, going forward, I will need to you to mail $5 dollars to my house every time you read my blog.  Love ya, thanks!

• I told him we would probably have to get rid of the housekeeper.**  I continued with telling him how I have already talked to the dogs about not making any more messes. They had agreed to wipe their feet when they came in and they agreed that they could stop peeing and pooping in the house until I got a job again.*** (At this point both me and at least one dog had some whiskey in us.)

I have had very few stop me in my tracks type events happen in my life.  This was one of them for about an hour or two.  It is amazing how many things that you can feel at one time.  Part of me couldn't breath, part of me couldn't talk (a first for me), part of me wanted to throw up and part of me wanted to fall down.  Part of me couldn't stop shaking and part of me wanted to pass out.  Part of me was laughing hysterically and part of me was about to go postal.  I told The Smooch that for his own safety, he should probably stay out of arms reach because I just couldn't prevent what would happen next.

 

Day 2 - I refuse to get out of bed.
My hair has a life of it's own.
The Smooch makes me shower.

The first two days were the hardest.  The Smooch works from home and he had a HUGE deadline.  This meant I had to keep quiet and out of his way.  This was a rough two days.  But today is the beginning of day three.  The Smooch's deadline has passed and overall, the stress level in the house has gone down.  I also remind myself that it could be worse.  I could be unemployed and hanging out with Aunt Biv.

But the good news is that not only do I have the time to work on my blog, I believe I may find something exciting to write about.  I am not going to take this lying down.  I am going to be doing stuff.  I am not unemployed, I am on vacation.  And the best kind of vacation because it is a vacation where I don't have to worry about checking in at work.  No work stress just me and The Smooch.  This is where I should interject.  Take a good look at The Smooch because you may not see him again.  He works from home and having us both in the house all day, every day is certain to lead to the death of one us.  Now I am off to the eye doctor (got to get their while I have insurance) and then off to the spa.

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*Actual temperature is reading 45 degrees Fahrenheit but after so many negative, close to zero and days in the 20s, it feels like summer.  In fact, I left the house without a coat it was so warm.

** We are not getting rid of the housekeeper.  I would give up food before I would give up that woman.  If there was a fire in our house and I could only save one person, it would be a tough call between the housekeeper and The Smooch.  I'm just say'n.

*** This arrangement lasted 16 hours before one of them forgot and pooped on the floor.  Guess that dogs gets to donate two kidneys. Just kidding, don't call PETA.  I am not going to donate my dogs kidneys.  I may however have to start eating their food since we can no longer afford people food.

And It Burns, Burns, Burns, The Ring of Fire, The Ring of Fire - Part 2

Continued from And It Burns, Burns, Burns, The Ring of Fire, The Ring of Fire - Part 1

This is probably the part of the blog where I should tell my male friends and relatives to stop reading.  If you are sensitive or easily offended stop reading.  Just stop.  Trust me on this one.  You may not want to read past this point.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So I want you to take a minute to reread the title of this blog.  Ladies I think you may know where I am going with this.  Sometimes when a girl takes antibiotics, she suffers from what is known as candidiasis.  I also had to Wikipedia it after I saw it as one of the side effects on the antibiotic.  I can't say it, you know what it is.  I just posted a Wikipedia link.  Just look it up, then you don't have to read this blog.  Don't make me say it... okay fine, I'll say it.  I had a raging yeast infection, which I nicknamed Biv.  Yes I named my yeast infection.  Why you ask?  Because saying and thinking burning, itchy vagina a hundred times a day get's old.  If men think about sex once every seven seconds, then I was thinking about Biv seven times every second.  I've had yeast infections before but this one put those to shame.  At first, it felt like just a small irritation.  Like maybe I used the wrong soap or something.  Then the burning really set in.  The collapse me where I stand, heat of a thousand suns lasted 5 whole days.  Those 5 days suddenly seemed so much longer than the previous 6 weeks with a head cold.  Suddenly my mucus baby didn't seem so bad.  The burning was awful.  The itching was so bad.  I couldn't sit down.  I didn't want to put on pants.  If my life had a sound track, then Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys and Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon would be playing in the background.

I finally called my doctor and explained to my doctor's assistant that not only did I have severe diarrhea, but I also had a raging case of Biv.  She said she would talk to the doctor and someone would be in touch with me on what I should do regarding my prescriptions and my many side effects.  I again said to her, I don't think you understand the severity of my situation.  I can't sleep because the burning wakes me up, I can't sit in meetings because the heat in my pants is too much.  I need some sort of solution.  She started with "well try not to scratch it." Honey, that ship has done sailed!!  She then suggested a cold compress.  I ran to the freezer.  When I put that ice pack on my flaming lady parts, the angels sang.  Sweet release.  The Smooch tried talking to me but I couldn't hear him.  Not over the sizzling of my cooling woo hoo*.

While I was waiting for the doctor to call back, I looked up some home remedies to try.  One of them included douching with warm water and yogurt and the other included putting garlic in cheesecloth, closing with a string and then shoving the whole thing up your woo hoo!  I think if I tried that, I would yell Woo Hoo when I did it.  Must be why I call it that.  PS.  I did not try either of these home remedies.  I thought they both sounded too scary.

My doctor finally called back after what seemed like weeks but was in reality only a few hours.  With Biv nagging me all day, time seemed to slow down.  When the doctor called back, I was at the dollar store.  Work is collecting items to take to a local homeless shelter and my coworker and I had ran to the dollar store on our lunch hour to pick up a few things.  That of course is when my doctor called.  He is talking to me about my diarrhea.  I interrupted and said, listen doc, that is not what I am concerned about.  I told the nurse about a second symptom.  That is the one that concerns me.  I told him I was trying to be a little discreet since I was at the dollar store and standing next to my coworker.  He said and I quote, "So what you are saying is that you are embarrassed to say that you have an itchy vagina.  There is nothing embarrassing about an itchy vagina.  You should say it loud and say it proud.  I HAVE AN ITCHY VAGINA!!  If you are at the dollar store, there is a good chance that you are not the only one there with an itchy vagina."  My doctor thinks he is funny and normally I would say he is.  Ok, I admit it was a little bit funny hearing my doctor scream at me over the phone ITCHY VAGINA, ITCHY VAGINA, ITCHY VAGINA.  I also admit that it was a little embarrassing.  My face was so red and my co-worker kept looking at me like I might be crazy. I think I may have cried a little.  Partly because I was laughing so hard and partly because I think a little bit of my soul may have just died.  So after his little Tourette's episode he told me to stop taking the antibiotic and he would call something new into my pharmacy to help with my ITCHY VAGINA!

I called The Smooch and asked him if he could pick up my prescription.  I had some plans after work and wouldn't get home before the pharmacy would close.  The Smooch said he would be happy to pick up my prescription.  I told him that this was very important.  His reponse was that he wasn’t an idiot and could handle picking up one small prescription.  But when I got home for the evening, The Smooch admitted that he had gotten busy and hadn't picked up prescriptions.  The fire in my woo hoo boiled up and came out my ears.  It was too late to pick it up now.  I would have to wait until the pharmacy opened in 12 hours.  12 HOURS!!  Are you f*ing kidding me.  The argument that ensued was pretty nasty.  The words burning, itchy vagina came out of my mouth over and over and over again.  I am sure the repeated description of the way I felt was punishment enough for The Smooch.  This was the closest we have ever been to divorce.  This is also the closest that I have ever been to pulling my husband’s testicles out through his ears.  And ladies I think not picking up my yeast infection medicine is reason enough to file for divorce or maybe even reason enough for murder.  I told The Smooch to apologize to Biv.  Biv and I forgave him but we didn't forget.  Oh no we did not.

I thought that I could survive the night.  I was wrong.  Biv was really starting to get on my nerves.  She just wouldn’t stop nagging me.  So at 10:30 pm at night, in a level two snow emergency, The Smooch and I headed out to the grocery store.  Yes I made The Smooch go with me.  This was his punishment for not getting my prescription.  We only live about a block from the grocery store so we headed out on foot.  We walked through the worst snow storm of the year.  We probably had 4 inches of snow on the ground and it was snowing at a rate of 1 - 2 inches an hour.  We finally got to the grocery store.  I am looking for the items that I need.  I guess I stood there a little too long because a gentleman came up to me and asked me if I needed help finding anything.  He actually started with, I don't work here but I shop here a lot maybe I can help you find what you are looking for.  I looked at him and then I looked at The Smooch.  The Smooch is laughing hard.  He is waiting, no willing me to ask the guy, yes sir, can you help me find the Vagisil?  The guy looked to nice and I just thanked him and told him I was fine.  I didn't think introducing him to Biv would be nice, plus I was trying to save all my torture for The Smooch.  I finally found what I was looking for and headed to the checkout.  The cashier says, how is your day going.  I said look at what I am buying and then let me know what you think.  The Smooch is howling by this time with laughter because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

I come bearing gifts to you oh great Biv.

I practically run home to apply all my lotions and potions.  But then I realize that running creates too much friction for Biv and have to stop to let her cool off.  She is not a fan of running, moving fast, sitting still too long and a variety of other activities.  I finally got home and I applied all the above items in all the places it needed to be.  Here I will spare you the details.  Use your imagination on where each item went.  And for the first night in days, I slept well. 

I am not sure how to conclude this blog post.  I am still healing.  My sinus infection is still hanging on.  I still have mucus babies on a regular basis.  It seems that everything my doctor prescribes me has a side effect of diarrhea and I seem to be effected by this with every new prescription.  Biv is doing better.  The burning is less bonfire and more candle.  Not a romantic candle, maybe more like a citronella candle.  Kinda smelly and a necessary evil during the itchy mosquito season.

*Woo Hoo is a technical term for my vagina and sometimes the area around my vagina.



And It Burns, Burns, Burns, The Ring of Fire, The Ring of Fire - Part 1

So far, 2014 has been a rough year for me, health wise at least.  Now don't get me wrong, I know it could be worse. I could have cancer or be dying or something.  I am grateful that my problems are only temporary.  It started Christmas Day when a snot nose child climbed all over me dripping on me and doing other unmentionable things that little kids do.  Two days later, I had the crud.  Two days after that, The Smooch had the crud.  There is nothing worse than being sick at the same time as your husband.  Neither one of us were healthy enough to get food, get medicine, clean our house which is getting grosser by the minute with all the snotty tissues, coughs and sneezes.  It was like there was a layer of mucus on everything.  Every time I blew my nose, I felt like my nose was giving birth to a mucus baby. Good news. This time it was twins!  Yeah me!!  Also, I didn't think it was possible but I hit my buying limit of pseudoephedrine from the local pharmacy.  I think they may have thought I was cooking meth.  It probably didn't help that I pulled up in an RV every time I needed to make a purchase.*

All my beautiful mucus babies.

The Smooch and I had three different colds between Christmas Day and the end of January.  Or maybe it was one cold that just kept coming and going.  Either way, neither one of us felt good for over a month.  Every time you thought you were getting healthier, that nasty cold would come back bigger and badder than before.  By the end of January, The Smooch was on the road to recovery, but I couldn't kick my cold.  It felt like it was settling in my sinuses and ears.  I broke down and decided to go see my doctor.  At this point, I didn't think I could feel any worse.  Every time I bent over, I thought mucus by explode out of my eye.  Boy was I wrong.....

Things did get a lot worse.  It all went down hill after I went to the doctor.  My doctor is funny and I always enjoy visiting him.  He said that I probably had a sinus infection and he prescribed an antibiotic.  THE ANTIBIOTIC.  I realize now that if you rearrange the letters of antibiotic you get THE DEVIL IN PILL FORM.  Crazy coincidence?  I think not.  At first my stomach started bothering me.  I thought maybe I ate something that disagreed with me.  Then the diarrhea set in.  I did nothing but poop for four straight days.  Every single time I went to the bathroom, I felt like that scene from Bridesmaids.  "It's coming out of me like lava" became my new mantra.  Do you know how awful it is to have diarrhea and a head cold.  Every time I coughed or sneezed, I had to check my pants for surprises.  And if you follow me on facebook, then you will know that I sit next to the bathroom at work.  Good thing if you have diarrhea but also a little bad because I can know that the bathroom is not sound proof.  I can hear you from my desk.  So I must have broken into a sweat every time I was in there trying not to release the lava god from my bum hole.  And that still wasn't the worse part of my illness.  Not by a long shot.

To Be Continued…

 Click here for the second part of this exciting saga!

* Just kidding.

It's Time To Buy Lycra Or To Start Working Out

Today I went shopping for clothes.  I have a work conference coming up and wanted to find something a little more professional to wear .  Clothes shopping has lost some fun since getting married because of something that someone once referred to as "Happy Weight."  It is not weight gain that makes you happy but weight gain caused by being happy!?!  Stupidest thing I have ever heard.  So I am on a mission to find some great shapewear.  I would love to hear your suggestions in the comments.

But this reminded me of the last time I was in the market for some shapewear.  This happened just over two years ago right before The Smooch and I got married.  I needed some serious shapewear to go under my wedding dress.  The dress was strapless and I have big boobs.  For you lady readers, you know what a challenge buying shapewear can be, but to find something strapless that still has the support to hold up your girls is really a challenge.  For my male readers, I apologize for the below in advance.

My search took me in and out of many shops but I couldn't find exactly what I needed.  I had no idea how hard it would be.  And the poor Smooch was with me.  I told him it would take about 15 minutes but then the search ended up taking three hours in and out of eight stores.  He was a great sport though.

I ended up at Victoria's Secret.  The Smooch had had enough and went into a different store in the mall.  We agreed I would call him when I was ready and we would meet up.  I went into Victoria's Secret and explained what I was looking for.  No problem, we have exactly what you need.  She found my size and sent me to the dressing room.  I got to the dressing room and examined what I had.  It was basically a small tube with two cups at the top.  Was this the right size?!?!  No way.  I checked the label and the label confirmed my worst fears.  It was my size.  Dear God save me.  I said a prayer but couldn't hear God's response over his laughter.  I disrobed down to my knickers.  I tentatively stepped into the garment.  I got it pulled up to my butt but could not get it pulled over my ass.  Well maybe my ass is to large, maybe I need to pull it over my head.  So I took it off and tried to pull it on over my head.  But I couldn't pull it down while keeping my arms straight above my head.  Hmmmm......  This went on for about 15 minutes.  I tried stepping into it and pulling up, I tried pulling it over my head...  I twisted and pulled but I could not get it on.  Perhaps it was a puzzle and you had to pull and push in all the right places to get it to fall comfortably in place???  Perhaps if I had taken a yoga class or some sort of contortionist class I could have gotten it on???  Perhaps if I was double jointed, I don't know.  It seemed that it was not meant to be.  I disgruntledly put my clothes back on and left the dressing room.

The Victoria's Secret employee cheerily asked me how it went.  I told her that it didn't.  I couldn't figure out how to get it on.  She took me by the arm and assured me that we would get that life constricting girdle on me.  Again, I looked to God.  The laughing was uncontrollable now.  The Victoria's Secret employee was slightly older than me.  Not old enough to be my mother but old enough to have seen it all, to have been there and done that.  We went into the dressing room and I disrobed again.  I am now standing there in nothing but my underpants in front of the Victoria's Secret employee.  I should also add that I am quite sweaty from my first attempt at putting this contraption on.  She said you have to step into it and pull it on.  I had complete faith in her.  Let's do this.  I pulled it up again to my butt and again I couldn't get to it any higher.  Embarrassment is starting to set in.  My lower half is incased like a sausage with the top half of me pouring out of it.  Again, I should mention that I am sweating and am really starting to get hot.  This is only causing my body to expand.  Not a good thing.

She looked me in the eyes and said, we are going to do this.  She told me to grab each of the sides and we would pull it on together.  She then stepped up to me perpendicularly to my body in what I can only describe as a solid stance.  A stance she had obviously gained from years of pulling lycra onto desperate women.  She then bent over and put one hand on the front of the life changing garment and the other hand on the back.  Since the piece was still below my ass, she had to bend over slightly to grab the garment in the right places.  This put her face directly into my naked boobs.  Awesome.  She then yelled "PULL" and together we pulled with all our might and the damn thing slipped on and into place.  It was perfect.  I couldn't breath so I knew it was working.  To get the thing back off, we had to do the same thing in reverse, with both of us pulling at the same time.  Again, her face was in my boobs.

When it was over, we were both covered in sweat.  I paid for my hard earned breath stopper and left the store.  The Smooch found my sitting on a bench outside of Victoria's Secret.  My hair was disheveled, my face was red and I was sweating.  He also said I had a look on my face of complete despair.  He asked me what happened.  I told him that I couldn't tell him.  We weren't yet married and I didn't want to ruin his image of me.  I told him that it started with a workout and it ended with Victoria's Secret employee and I sharing a cigarette.

Tricknee

You know how people need alcohol to feel brave to do idiotic things?  I am unfortunately not one of those people.  I tend to do stupid things completely sober.  So to explain to you exactly what happened to me last night (or what stupid thing I did to myself) I must explain a couple things to you first. 

•  I am pro-alcohol and do imbibe on occasion.  The problem is that alcohol is not pro-me.  We used to have a pretty good love-hate relationship.  Now, it is becoming more hate-hate.  As I get older, it takes the same amount of alcohol to feel drunk but significantly less to feel hung-over.  I now become hung-over after only two water-downed drinks.  My husband thinks I am a mean drunk so he has me on a strict two drink limit.  Because of this, I drink significantly less than I used to. 

•  A year or so ago, my parents hosted a big shin dig.  That means party to you city folk.  For said party, my parents had rented a bounce house.  Oh, what fun!!  If I only knew the truth*.  As the party was winding down, I decided it would be a good idea to try out the bounce house.  Rumors later circulated that I had drank too much.  I am here to tell you the truth.  I had exactly 1/2 of a beer over the course of two hours.  I wish I had been drunk, it would be less embarrassing.  Anyway, so I yelled to The Smooch, to come join me.  We were bouncing and having fun.  And then it happened.  I learned a valuable lesson.  I jumped one way and my knee went the other.  I hit the ground screaming in pain.  The Smooch kept bouncing thinking I was faking.  I was not.  My knee had twisted and had given out.  My niece and nephew would  later ridicule me about why I should have followed the rules of the bounce house.  I was over the weight limit.  I was over the height limit.  Why didn't I listen? A trip to an orthopedic surgeon assured me that not only was my knee not permanently injured, unlike my ego, I was also the oldest bounce house victim the orthopedic surgeon had ever seen.  Now I have a trick knee that gives out at the most inopportune moments.  Like that time in improv class where I got up too fast and my damn trick knee gave out.  Shortest scene ever.  But big laughs.

Back to last night....  My big injury happened over a year ago.  I have only had minor problems since then.  Lately, I have been feeling like my knee was almost back to 100%.  And then it happened.  It gave out again last night.  It gave out in a big way.  I will preface this story by saying I am okay.  I am writing this with my leg propped up and with an ice pack but I am okay.  So I give you permission to laugh.  Laugh big.  Laugh hard.  In exchange, I ask that you not tell anyone about this.  This may easily be one of my more embarrassing moments.  The only reason it isn't my number one most embarrassing moment is because I was alone when it happened.  There were no witnesses.

And here is what happened.... It was about 11:30.  The OSU game had just ended.  Time for bed.  I had had exactly 0 alcoholic beverages.  I was however sitting near two people that were drinking.  Maybe I had a contact buzz?  I don't know.  I did, however drink a lot of water and I do have a very small bladder.  That makes for a dangerous combination.  All of a sudden, I had to pee.  Bad.  I ran to the bathroom (well walked quickly, because who am I kidding, I never run.)  There was no time to shut the door, and I barley had time to pull my pants down.  No need to unbutton because well, you know (Button Free, Zipper Free, Care Free).  So pants half way down my legs, I turn to sit, and then my knee gave out.  I bounced off the toilet and fall, half in/half out of the walk in shower, pants around my knees.  I take a breath and try to assess the damage.  My knee hurts... bad.  But so does something else.  Oh yeah, that's my bladder, I still have to pee.  If possible, even worse than when I originally rushed into the bathroom.  I am glad to know that in intense situations, I can hold it.  Peeing my pants would have been the icing on the cake.  I take another breath.  Can I move myself the few inches to make it to the toilet?  Is my knee strong enough to support me?  Did The Smooch here the crash and is he on his way up here now?  We are not yet to a place where I wanted him in the bathroom when I was peeing.  The door was open, he could walk in anytime.**  My need was urgent, so I decided to risk it.  I moved towards the toilet and lifted myself up.  And then I fell in.  It seemed that when I bounced off the toilet, I had hit it with such a great force, that the toilet seat had ripped clear off the toilet.  It was two feet away.  I finished my business and then hobbled to the nearest bedroom to lie down.  Then I yelled for The Smooch.  When he arrived, I was half crying with pain and half laughing from embarrassment. 

He entered the bedroom not sure how to react.  There lies his crazy wife, laughing hysterically and holding her knee.  He tentatively asked the obvious.  I couldn't explain.  The tears and the laughter wouldn't stop.  I simply pointed towards the bathroom.  He assessed the scene but still couldn't put the story together.  So, through the tears and sweat, I told him what happened.  I told him the truth.  I have a family history of destroying toilets in unusual ways.***  So he just smiled and lovingly helped me hobble to bed.  He got me an ice pack and has been taking care of me all day.  Because when your wife is prone to idiotic drunken accidents when completely sober, you have no choice but to smile, take care of her and just shake your head and laugh.



Dramatic Reenactment

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*The Truth! Bounce Houses are dangerous!!  I have proof.
'Bounce houses' under new scrutiny | The Columbus Dispatch
Nationwide Children’s Hospital Study Shows Increase In Bounce House-Related Injuries - 10tv

** In fact, we almost got divorced earlier in the week when he walked in on me going number two.  Traumatic for both of us.  There was yelling and screaming on both parts.  We couldn't look at each other for the rest of the day.

*** My grandfather, the asshole, once destroyed a toilet when he dropped a crock pot on it.  Because who doesn't dispose of rancid vegetable soup by pouring it down the toilet?  The crock pot was unharmed.