One Picture, Three Stories: Drink

This story is written for a blog link up hosted by Jane Heinrich called One Picture, Three Stories #3 {Blog Link-up}.  You should check it out for more fun stories.  So the point is to take one picture and write three stories.  Okay, so I guess the title kinda says it all.  These stories may or may not be true and may or may not be made up.  You guess which is which.  So this is my first attempt at this one picture, three stories business.  Forgive me if it is awful.

 

 

Story #1

My grandfather worked in a small pub when he was a teenager.  He wasn't the bartender, get that out of your head.  He was a teen.  He spent his afternoons hauling cases of beer, mopping up sticky floors and taking out the trash.  It wasn't a glamorous job but it gave him a sense of purpose and a few bucks in his pocket.  He later bought the bar with his brother.  After my grandfather's brother died, my grandfather retired and passed the bar onto my father.  I practically grew up there, playing on the bar stools and pretending to drink beer.  But all that is in the past.  Today is the day that my father passes the bar on to me.  I have been dreaming of this day since I was a little kid.  And today is my day.  I finally get my chance to run the bar.  But I will always remember the men who got me there.  I keep a picture of my grandfather and his brother at the bar.  They will always be right where they belong, behind the bar.

 

 

Story #2

I thought we would never choose a bottle.  How hard can it be to choose one bottle?  Seems simple enough right?  WRONG.  Bottle distributors kept bringing in more and more sample bottles.  Why did this seem like the hardest part about opening a brewery?  Picking napkins was simple, deciding what kind of beer to brew was easy, picking names for the new beer, all easy.  But deciding what bottle to put our beer in seemed to be impossible.  In the end, the task was impossible.  We just couldn't agree which bottle to pick.  Instead we decided to brew the beers directly into kegs and have everything on tap.  Problem solved.  We stuck all those bottle samples in the window and called them decoration.  We saved a bundle on bottles and decorations.

 

Story #3

I just wanted a drink.  It had been a long day, a long week, a long month, a long life.  I sat there and thought about my problems.  There seemed to be so many.  What was I going to do about my mom?  She wasn't getting any younger.  Work wasn't getting any better.  The layoffs seemed to be a weekly occurrence.  And my kids.  What they hell was I going to do about my kids?  Those kids scared the hell out of me.  It just wasn't natural.  And just then, the rain stopped and the sun came out.  Maybe my problems weren't so bad.

My favorite decade was...

I have written a couple blogs in the past for "Finish The Sentence Friday."  Well, I think I'll try it again this week.  This week's topic is "My favorite decade is..."

 

 

Which is my favorite decade?  I have had the pleasure of living through 3.3 decades.  I am not sure that the first one really counts.  I was born in 1980.  I don't really have any memories of the first half of the decade.  I assume the 80's was a great decade for me.  No responsibilities, everything I needed was given to me, I was a kid, what's not to love.

 

The 90s were similar.  I admit, I had a lot of great moments in the 90s. It did bring lots of great milestones like becoming a teenager, getting to drive, graduating high school and going to college.  But I wouldn't consider that my favorite decade.

The 00s (what do we call them?) was okay.  I graduated from college in 2002 and tried to find my first "real" job in the field that I spent the last four years studying.  That never happened and still hasn't.  I did find a job but it was one that I got because my mom worked there.  I ended up buying a house near my home town because I was in love.  What a crock!  I lived in that house for four miserable years 45 minutes from any type of social activity, 45 minutes from my job and 5 minutes away from my ex-boyfriend and my parents.  So that wasn't really a great decade.

I think maybe my favorite decade is the current decade, the 10s (again what do you call it?)  In 2010, I bought a house in the big city.  I was close to where I worked and there was tons of social activities nearby.  I had different plans every night.  But I think, more than that, that this was the decade where I started to really be comfortable with myself.  I spent the last half of the 00s being mostly by myself.  I lived alone, in a small town where everyone was married and had kids.  To make matters worse, it was a partially dry town.  You could buy beer at the Krogers but there was no where to get a drink served to you.  No wonder I was miserable.  But when you spend a lot of time by yourself, you can really start to figure yourself out.  I don't want to get all psychological on you, but I think it is true.  I spent those years getting comfortable in my skin, figuring out who I was, and overall being okay with myself.  So when I got to the 10s, I was ready to really start living.  Plus I turned 30 in 2010 (20+10 = 30 yeah.)  I think my 30's has been the best years yet.  I feel that in my 30's, I have become most comfortable with the person that I am, more self confident.  I don't really care what other people think.  If you don't believe that, you don't regularly read my blog.  Also, in my 30's in the 2010s, I met The Smooch and we got married.  I know what you are thinking, love and hearts and fireworks and crap.  And okay, maybe some of that. 

But let's be clear, The Smooch is not always the easiest guy to live with.  He wants me to be the best person I can every day and he let's me know when I am not living up to that standard.  The short version is that he makes me a better person.  When this happens, rainbows come out of his butt and fireworks come out of mine.  Oh, isn't love grand.  But life wasn't completely easy.  Some of my most difficult and most stressful times of my life happened in this decade.  But it makes a huge difference when you have a great support system backing you up.  And each time, The Smooch and I went through a tough time, we came out on the other side better people and a stronger couple.
 



So to finish the sentence "My favorite decade is...." 2010s!  I am feeling really good about the person that I am.  Life is very good.  I am very happy that The Smooch is in my life.  We have a great life together.  We live in a great house, in a great neighborhood.

The Stones Have Gotta Go

Medical problems in special areas seem to run through my household.  This time it affected my poor baby boy.  He is eight.  He is a dog.  His name is Dominic.  You might remember his sweet face from blogs such as Tricknee, The Walking Dead Took Over My Life and just about every other blog I have written.  He is a little bit of a ham.  He loves dressing up and loves to have his picture taken.  That works out really well since I love dressing him up and taking his pictures.  But he will not be dressed up in this blog.  I think he has been tortured enough.

Dominic

It all started when we adopted him.  He was peeing blood.  The vet said it was a UTI.  We gave him an antibiotic and it went away.  This happened four or five times over the course of two years.  Our vet did an x-ray because this is not normal.  My poor baby boy had stones in his bladder.  (Let me note here that I don't know how parents do it.  I was freaking out and my baby was just a dog.)  The vet said he would need surgery.  SURGERY!  How did my poor baby go from a UTI to having surgery?  I think the worse part is that he didn't even know what was about to happen to him.  No idea and I couldn't communicate that with him.

The morning of the surgery, I got up early to take him to the vet.  He was excited to take a car ride.  I brought his blanket along with him and he curled up in it on the front seat.  It was early (8:00 am.  That is early when you are unemployed.) and he wanted to sleep on our trip.  I turned the heated seat on for him.  He napped the whole way to the vet.  When we got to the vet, he suddenly realized where he was.  All four brakes were applied and he wouldn't move.  Luckily, he only weighs about 13 pounds so I just picked him up and carried him inside.  Once we got inside, one of the vet technicians came to greet us.  Dominic was so excited to have someone else to pet him.  He ran to her and she took him away.  Glad to see I am the only one who is sad about what is going on.  He seemed so happy.  What a fool.

Later that afternoon, I went back to the vet to get him.  His surgery went really well.  They said that they scooped out all his stones.  One stone was on the way to the urethra and one was actually lodged in the urethra.  The vet explained to me that Italian Greyhounds (that's the breed we have) have bones in their penises (giggle, giggle he said penis.  I am twelve.) called an os penis.  I actually Googled "Italian greyhound penis bone" to confirm that I had the right name for it.  Did you  know that if you Google "penis" it brings back results with the word "dick" in it.  How would you like to be the person at Google who has to add all the AKA words in for words like penis.  (Giggle, giggle!)

But I digress.  The moral of the story is that not only did the cut into his bladder but they had to slice his urethra to get the stone out.  They stitched his urethra back together and then glued him closed everywhere else.  The vet said that I would have to watch all the incisions for obvious reasons like making sure there was no infection.  But he also told me to watch and make sure that the pee was coming out of the right place.  He said it was possible that if everything wasn't "glued" properly that pee could ooze out of his urethra (not at the end) and then out of his incision.  Umm, gross.  Love is watching your dog pee, every time for days to make sure he isn't peeing out of the wrong places.

When I got him back from the vet, he looked pretty sad.  I cuddled him, kissed him, then threw him in the back of the car and drove him home.  He spent the next three days sleeping and looking pathetic.  Today is day three after the surgery.  He is slowly getting back to his old, ornery ways.  He is still sleeping a lot and looking pretty sad but he is moving around well.  In a couple more days, he will be back to normal.

Stop reading here if you are sensitive or easily grossed out.  TRUST ME.  You don't want to see the pictures below.

But as far as Dominic is concerned, he spent a lot of time doing the below and getting yelled at.

Do I really need to put a caption on this?

 

The next thing he knows, he is coming home from the vet looking like this.

Yes, that is major bruising in what was his manhood area. 
Trust me, this breaks my heart too.

 I think without any doubt, he has learned his lesson about licking his private area.  I don't think he will be doing that for a while.  Mostly because it is so bruised.

Please don't call dog services.  We didn't schedule the surgery because he licks his manhood like its his job.  Surgery was not punishment. Surgery was to heal his bladder stones.

I kidnapped a couple kids...

OK.  Maybe this is only partly true.  I did pull up to a couple kids at the bus stop and yell, "get in the car if you want to live."  (In an Arnold Schwarzenegger like voice.)  The other half is, that I knew they were their because their mother asked me to pick them up and the kidnapping was really only temporary.  They had an 8:00 curfew.

I went to the bus stop.  The older kid was there waiting on his younger brother.  I told Older* to get in the car.  We waited.  We waited almost half an hour.  I asked Older, how long do we wait for the bus before we start to worry.  He replies, no need to worry, my mom is already on the phone with the school.  Finally, 30 minutes late, the bus with Younger* shows up.

We are now 35 minutes late to the educational opportunity (improv for kids class) where I am supposed to be taking them.  But a kid's gotta eat right after school, so off to Taco Bell we go.  The kids mother had told me some things about dietary restrictions and what they can and cannot eat.  I pray the kids remember and will not try to trick me.  I feared they would eat what they were allergic to just to trick me so I had to take them to the hospital or vet or something.  They didn't, they were cool.  But ordering was like some kind of master mind puzzle.  Extra this, not that, extra this, add this completely random thing, and take that off etc, etc, etc.  Younger had to repeat his order to me three times before I thought I understood enough to repeat it to the drive thru teller.  I think I got it mostly right.  Younger took the receipt with the survey at the bottom.  He agreed he would split the prize with me if he won.  I would get $9 (to cover dinner) and he would get the rest.  Not sure if he won.  Like many dates, I never heard from him again.

The kids are in the backseat talking in some kinda code and eating Taco Bell.  Like a fool, I ask them to explain to me what they are talking about.  They are talking about some gamer stuff I don't understand and about all these people who make a living making YouTube videos.  (Idea for my next job?)  I can't believe what I am hearing.  What are you talking about?  They change the subject.  Apparently Younger has a girlfriend.  Say what?  This is unacceptable I tell him.  When you left your house, you were innocent and when I bring you back you won't be.  He says not to worry, this is not his first girlfriend.  I ask him, what does it mean to you to have a girlfriend.  He said real cool like, we hold hands and stuff.  Well that's good to hear.  Glad it is not something more dangerous.  His brother wants to know the details on how he asked her.  It went something like this.

Younger's Friend To Girl: "So Younger likes you."

Younger To Friend: "I can't believe you told her that.  What did she say?"

Younger's Friend to Younger: "She said she would let you know before class."

And that is how young loves starts.

I take them to the improv class.  On the way back, I asked them what they thought of the class.  I got a lot of "it's okay, I guess" and other grumblings.  But when I got them back to their mom, they couldn't stop talking about it.  They were really excited.  Those little bastards lied to me!

Overall it was a fun experience.  Having kids seems to be a lot of work and worry.  My friend's kids are really well behaved so I didn't have too much problems with them.  But I kept worrying about school buses, dietary restrictions, seatbelts, sex (well maybe that is an exaggeration.)  How do parents do it?  No wonder you can never go out, you have to much other stuff going on.  Props to all parents.  Shaping young minds is hard work.

Are you a parent?  Tell me how you do it?  It seems like a lot of work to me!!

* Names have been changed to protect the innocent.  But I don't really think they are all that innocent.

Random Things about Me... Because it is my blog after all.

I thought that with all my extra spare time, I would be able to write on my blog more often.  But the truth is, I am busy.  Candy doesn't crush itself and somebody's got to get that done.  So here I am, attempting to write on my blog.  I am going to try something easy, Random things about me.  Since it is 2014 and I have nothing but time, I think I will write 2,014 random things about me.  Ha Ha, just kidding.  No one wants to read that and truthfully, I don't want to write about it.  I am not that interesting.  So in no particular order, here are some random thing about me.

• I am addicted to Candy Crush.  I wouldn't normally consider myself to have an addictive personality but when it comes to stupid pointless games on facebook and my phone, I am addictive.  I try to not download games on my phones because they suck me in but I admit that I have a few.  Candy Crush is one of the.  Since becoming unemployed, my addiction has gotten worse.  I now play on both my phone and my computer.  Between those two platforms and my friends giving me free lives (thanks friends) I can play, almost non-stop, all day.  Not sure if this is good or bad but it passes the time.  Anyone hear about this Pet Saga?  I'm thinking of trying it out.

• I love to sing and dance.  I often wonder why God would make me love singing and dancing so much and then make me so horribly bad at it.  I am really awful, but I can't see myself doing it so I am unaffected by it's awfulness.  If you don't like it, close your eyes.  For the singing, there isn't much you can do to avoid it.  I will just apologize in advance for that.

• I watch random tv.  I have a short attention span.  I blame it on my phone.  I tend to watch the same things over and over again. Movies for instance.  I also tend to watch old sitcoms.  When I blog, I watch Golden Girls, when that's not on I watch Full House, when that's not on, I watch Roseanne.  Rosanne is always on.  I dvr the episodes and one day this week I had over 30 Roseanne episodes taped.  I finally got through them all yesterday.  Now I don't know what to do with my spare time.

• There are three people in my life that can make me laugh until I pee.  Two of these people have made me laugh so hard, I had to change my pants.  Only one of them knows who they are.

• I have a very dry and sarcastic sense of humor.  My sense of humor was recently described like this "Dry. Dry as a bone. As a bone in the desert. As dust on a bone in the desert."

• I didn't know I was funny until I met The Smooch.  I thought I had an average sense of humor.  Even worse, I didn't really think I was funny.  People never really got my sense of humor.  It being so dry and all.

• I only read headlines.  So when I see a news article come up in my facebook feed, I rarely click on the actual link.  This drives The Smooch crazy.  Ex.  "Hey Smooch, there was a horrible accident today.  Oh my god, where, what happened, was anyone killed, will traffic be delayed? I don't know, I only read the headline."  I get all my news this way.  Yes I heard about the horrible court trial, no, I don't know the details.  I figure, what does it really matter.  Will my life be changed for the good by knowing these horrible details.  I think not.

That's all I can think of for now.  What are some random things about you?

So you're unemployed are you?

Being unemployed is loads of fun.  And for reasons, I will never understand, it gives people a free license to say really stupid things to you.  Below are a list of my favorites thus far.

• Are you looking for a new job?
• Nah... At 33, I felt it was an appropriate time to retire.

• Is that your meltdown haircut.  I got a haircut when I had a meltdown too.
• No, this is my "I hated my last hair cut more than anything in the world and I now have time to finally fix it."  My haircut has less to do with a meltdown and more to do with a sudden abundance of time to fill.  I also had a meltdown eye doctor appointment, meltdown two hour massage, meltdown lunch with all my old coworkers, meltdown naps and so much more meltdown related events.  I may get meltdown highlights and possible a meltdown pedicure later.  Plus my new hair cut is super cute and your just jealous.  Also, the old hair cut left me with wild hair in the morning and the new one does not.  Less maintenance, SCORE!

• It is a great time to start a family.  A baby may be exactly what you need.
• Not even sure how to respond to this one.  Baby's cost money so when I have the least amount of it, I should start a family?  I need to occupy a couple weeks so I should take on a 20+ year commitment.  I can just imagine talking to this baby in 20 years.  "Well honey, your father and I decided to bring you into this world because mommy lost her job, had nothing to do.  It was an emotional time for mommy and we decided a baby would fix it all.  Thanks for fixing everything honey, we couldn't have done it without you."  I will admit that I did mention to The Smooch "I'm bored, let's have a baby.  It will entertain me so you won't have too."  But just to be clear, WE ARE NOT HAVING A BABY.  Probably ever.

• We got a puppy.
• Guess we are moving on from me.  Not that we need to talk about me but it would be nice if you had at the very least acknowledged what I said, said something nice and then moved on.  Example:  "You lost your job, that's awful.  By the way, I got a new puppy."

• I found you these entry level positions that are not in your field.  You should apply.
• Wow thanks.  Thanks for thinking that after 10 years in the same industry that I may want to be an administrative assistant.  Hells to the no.

• I don't think I'll come to your happy hour.  I feel like all we'll talk about is you.
• Wow, thanks.  This is in no way a happy hour for or about me.  I organized the happy hour for a group of like minded people.  I may not even know half of the people there. But thank you for thinking that I was so conceded that I may want to talk about nothing but me.

My new wardrobe.  Sweatpants and slippers.

Some of the people who said these things to me may be reading this blog right now.  I promise not to be offended by the stupid thing you said to me if you promise not to be offended that I wrote about it.  Deal?  Kisses!

What are some of your favorite awkward things that people have said to you in difficult times?  Tell me some doozies so I can feel better about my experiences!

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.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*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.

I am becoming my parents' child...

I am becoming my parents' child.  How can I become something that I already am?  Good question.  What I mean to say is that I am suddenly becoming the child my parents tried to make me be when I was an actual child.  Does that clear it up?  Yeah, didn't think so.  So when I was kid, my mom nagged me a lot.  It was sort of a hobby.  Nagging and making me miserable.  When the weather got cold, I was always that dorky kid wearing a huge winter coat and gloves and scarves and hats and boots. 

I looked like that kid from The Christmas Story.  I couldn't put my arms on.  I had to pack my shoes in my backpack and then change from my boots into my regular shoes.  "But whhhhyyyyyy..."  I used to whine each winter.  "I want to look cute during winter like the other kids.  I don't want to look like the marshmallow man."    My parents always gave the parent answer, "because we love you and we want you to be warm enough on the bus to school and at recess.  And what if the bus breaks down and you have to walk somewhere to get help or to another bus."  My response was also always the same, they aren't going to make some little girl walk for help.  I am adorable and the big kids will always carry me.

Now that I am older and wiser, I realize I am suddenly following my parents advice.  I wear snow boots to work when it snows or is really cold.  I even go as far as to wear an extra pair of thicker socks.  I wear a big winter coat that goes down to my knees, I wear gloves and a hat and a scarf.  I even take it a step farther.  I carry extra socks, hats and gloves in my car.  Along with a snow shovel, salt, tire pump, car type tools, battery charger and about a million other things that I never need.  But I really believe that I never need those things because I am always prepared.

Oh my god... Am I becoming my parents?  NNNNNOOOOOOOOOO........