I've Been Ate Up and Spit Out

My plans for this weekend were simple.

Friday - Catch up with Bean, who I had not seen for a week (because Ms. Man decided that she was going to call in sick after being on vacation for 8 days. I'm sure that she really did injure her back, in the same way that I'm sure someone who can party as hard as she says she does AND can handle very large pitbulls like she actually does is really entitled to military disability.. Whatever.)

Saturday - Head on over to #2's house for Hero's graduation party around noon to take care of all the arrangements. (Because I was hosting it there, since their house was more central, not because #2 & Mrs. #2 are incompetent.) Bean and the kids would join me about five and we'd leave around eleven after helping clean-up.

Sunday - Do a thorough cleaning of Oliver and Tallulah's rooms in preparation for Summer.

See. Simple. Uncomplicated.

Here's what actually happened.

Friday, Mom graciously took the kids off our hands.

So far, so good.

So we went to pick up Bean's truck (yay!! no more car sharing!!) then decided to get the groceries for Hero's party.

After that, we more or less came home and went to bed, being the old people that we are.

I did get to spend time with Bean, but I was envisioning a quiet dinner.

Beggers can't be choosers.

Saturday, the party went more or less as planned and everyone had a good time. Except that Tallulah was a monster.

She kept trying to pull:

He hit me back!!!!!!!!!!!

and

But I only pinched him once!!!!!!!!!!!!!

yeah.. sorry. You can't pull off a tattle if you have to tattle on yourself for the story to make sense.

But when we got home, we found that the dogs had chewed through a 6 x 6 square piece of the carpet where we keep them penned in the dining room.

Fuck me.

We have every intention of replacing all the carpet in the front of the house with tile. And are even in the process of a refinance to do that, but I'm not ready!!

Sunday morning after I got the dogs all outside (because I didn't clean that shit up when we got home at 1 AM), I got a closer look at it, and there was tile underneath.

So guess what we did Sunday??



Because even kindof odd forest green linoleum looks better than holey shit stained carpet. And it certainly smells better.

Now if I can only figure out how to get the fucking glue up.

Because of the holey carpet I only got Tallulah's room done on Sunday. She's neater than Oliver, and really it was just a matter of tossing out some of the stuff she neatly hoards.

Today after work I tackled The Beast.

This is just what was under Oliver's bed, after he cleaned it.



Tomorrow's trash day (thank God) and there are about 10 big black trash bags out there mostly full of crap from the kids rooms.

And I am now sore everywhere.

Barbituates, Bean and Why I'm Sleeping on the Couch Tonight

**DISCLAIMER**
This is actually kind of a gross posting now that I've read through it. So if you don't want to know entirely too much about Bean's bodily functions, you might want to wait until tomorrow**

There's actually at least two reasons I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight - the first is for blogging about this, but you know, Bean didn't specifically tell me not to, so that's just like permission, right??

And the second reason will come later.

Patience my friends.

So, our wonderful date weekend was interrupted (very rudely) by food poisoning (or a stomach bug, or a really convincing psychosematic illness* - but whatever it is, it's not pleasant).

Yup, that's right, in the middle of the night Saturday, Bean started with the vomiting and all that goes along with a stomach something.

He started to feel better on Sunday morning, so we thought that maybe he'd be ok for "Wicked", but then, like clockwork, a few minutes after checkout time, he got even worse.

Now, I'm one of those people that starts gagging the minute I hear someone else doing the same, so being in a hotel room where the other-room-where-I-can't-hear-you options are slim was not pleasant.

I finally got him to let me take him home about 3 hours later, but he was being pretty insistant that I not only go to "Wicked" but that I also use the hotel room and since really there was nothing I could do for him, I did.

I took Oliver and we had a really good time, but that's another post.

Today I went to work and Bean called and asked me to get his prescriptions. No problem.

Yeah, right.

Did ya'll know that they card you now at the pharmacy whenever you get the good drugs?

I found this out when I got out of the hospital and tried to go pick up my vicodin. I had just gotten out of the hospital and Mom wasn't being very motherly and was procrastinating over getting my drugs, so being the passive-agressive bitch that I am, I showed her and went myself.

So I drove my sore, cut up, seriously bloated ass to the pharmacy really wishing that I was picking up something stronger than vicodin and the bitch carded me.

I was still wearing a hospital bracelet and the bitch carded me.

I had to hobble my sore, cut up, seriously bloated and peeved self out to the car and dig through Bean's bag to find my wallet to get my drugs.

Not cool.

Anyway, today I went to get Bean's prescriptions and the same bitch was there and carded me again.

So I'm thinking - Is she doing this because she's a power-hungry bitch and gets off on inconveniencing people or did Bean get some good drugs??

Turns out he got some barbituates.

So if you're anything like me, you're thinking these are sleeping pills, or pain pills maybe.

Nope.

They're anti-gas pills.

Because he has trapped gas.

He just took the pills, and that would be why I will be sleeping on the couch tonight. Because Bean is sometimes a stinky guy without barbituates. With them?? Yeah, I don't imagine it will be pleasant.


*For the record, I don't really think that Bean has a psychosematic illness. I'm not quite that girly. But there is a little voice in my head (we'll call her Bonnie) who likes to whisper things to me about how he happened to get sick in the middle of our romantic weekend.

Why I'm Going to Become a Junky

So I went to a new doctor for my migraines. And he gave me some different preventative and they're great - we've moved from 7 a week to 3 a week.
But he gave me Treximet for the actual pain, and I'm one of those read-the-pharmacy-packet people, and it said it could cause Serotonin Syndrome*, which I've already had.
So I didn't take it, and I called the doctor's office last Monday.

And he yelled at me.

Something having to do with "wrong diagnosis" and "I'm fucking brilliant just do what I say you dumb bitch".

For some reason, that makes me want to go back to the doctor who couldn't help me, because at least he didn't think I was an idiot for reading up on chemicals someone that I don't know that well wants me to put in my body.

And that doctor thinks that Vicodin should be my friend. So I think I'll just give up and be a junky.

*I do of course realize that's a very rare side effect. I just wasted to check and see. I actually have no idea what it really means and I thought I should check and see if I would get sick from my drugs.