Post-It Notes Tuesday

Tattooing your Twat

This blows my mind..

Because vagazzling is now out of style, we have Vattooing. It's tattoos for pussies in both senses of the phrase, since they aren't real tattoos.





I wax. I get waxing. As my cousin says, it gets rid of any roach legs. Plus, it's cleaner.

But vajazzling and vattooing and vajacials??

When are women going to realize that men don't care what it looks like??

JJ Goes to the Shrink Part 2

If you don't know where we left off, you might want to go here.

Doctor #5 called me back..

Me: Hello?

Doctor: Hi! This is Doctor Shrink, is this Jennifer?

Me: Yes.

Doctor: I got your message and I am taking new patients. When would you like to come in?

Hallelujah!!!!! And thank the Lord and all that good stuff.

We talked and set my appointment up for the next day after work.

So when I got there the next day I found his office very easily, but it was really more like a broom closet than an office, and immediately made me feel a little claustrophobic.

It was better when I was out of the waiting room and in his actual office. Still a cabinet, but it had a window.

He took all my information and then we got to talking and I told him how everyone was pissing me off.

We talked about mom and he said I should stand up to her.

No shit Sherlock, but then I have to live with her after. You don't know my mother.

We talked about Perry and his visitation which shocked the fuck out him.

I can't say he's the first one. But he is the first that when given all the facts didn't immediately understand that my hands are tied. And I haven't decided yet if that makes him smarter than everyone else, or an idiot.

We talked about work and he thinks I ought to throw some people to the wolves.

That would be nice, but in the real world there are consequences for that shit, and I'm not even talking about karma.

We even talked a little about Dr. No Personality.

Dr. Shrink thinks I should bitch him up one side and down the other.

And then towards the end he told me that I should take a piece of paper and draw a vertical line down the center and on one side write the things bugging me that I can fix and on the other the ones I have no control over. And then come up with some plans of action for the ones I can do something about.

That's a nice little theory, but I have a feeling that my doing nothing list would be a hell of a lot bigger than my action list.

He didn't exactly call me a doormat, but he kindof did. He's not really wrong.

JJ Goes to the Shrink Part 1

It's no secret that I'm a little on the crazy side. Or maybe alot.

And lately I've been having to try really hard to not punch people in the trachea, so I thought maybe it was time to bite the bullet and find me a shrink.

So I got online and searched through all of my insurance bullshit and found a list of shrinks in my area.

There were 12 that I was willing to drive to.

And the next day at work I started calling.

Y'all, I have a cubicle, in the middle of an office full of extremely nosy men. So for the entirety of these phone calls my ass is sitting outside on a bench in the 3,000,000 degree Houston heat.

Doctor #1

Receptionist: Shrink's office, can you hold?

Me: Sure.

BBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Receptionist: Thank you for holding, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: Yes! Would you like to make an appointment?

Me: Yes.

Receptionist: Please hold.

BBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hung up then. If I can't call the office without migraine inducing hold beeps, then you are not my shrink.

Doctor #2

Receptionist: Shrink's office, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: No. I'm sorry, why did you want to come in?

Me: Umm.. If you're not taking new patients, then I fail to see why that's any of your business. But thanks.

Receptionist: Your welcome!


I will never call that shrink again. Busy-body little phone answerer.

Doctor #3

Receptionist: Shrink's office, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: Yes! Would you like to make an appointment?

Me: Yes.

Receptionist: The next available appointment is on November 19th, would you like me to schedule that?

Me: I was kinda hoping for something a little sooner..

Receptionist: I'm sorry, but we're very busy right now.

Fuck that. I wouldn't be calling if I didn't want to see someone sooner than 3 months from now.

Doctor #4

Receptionist: Shrink's office, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: Yes! Would you like to make an appointment?

Me: Yes.

Receptionist: I have one next Thursday and another on the following Monday.

Me: *sigh* That's fine whichever one is later in the day.

Receptionist: Ok. I just need to get some information from you.

She then proceeded to ask for my insurance information, driver's liscence number, social security number, 3 different contact numbers, emergency contact information, and why I was coming in..

Me: Because my crazy is a little out of control.

Receptionist: Could you clarify that?

Me: People are driving me nuts. They're making me crazier than normal.

Receptionist: I see.... Oh and we're also going to need a credit or debit card number in case you cancel the first appointment. It's the policy with new patients.

Me: I don't have mine on me. Can I make the appointment and call back with that??

Receptionist: No, I'm sorry, but I can save your information and we can put it all in the system then.

I did call back. At 4:30. And got the voicemail:

Thank you for calling Doctor Shrink's office. If you are a current patient and this is an emergency, please dial 1 for our answering service or hang up and dial 911. Our office hours are between 8 and 5. Please leave a message with your name, reason for calling and a number where you can be reached and we'll return your call the next business day.

I'm not a voicemail leaving kind of girl, but I drew myself up ready to leave a voicemail, and then the stupid thing said:

I'm sorry, the mailbox is full. Goodbye.

So many reasons why I didn't call back again. But most of all, only hangup and dial 911 or dial 1 for the answering service if you're a current patient. If your new, go fuck yourself.

Doctors #5 & #6

Both of these had voicemails only that were eerily similiar.

You have reached the confidential voicemail of Doctor Shrink. Please leave a detailed message including your name, telephone number and the reason for your call and it will be returned within 24 hours.

I left a message for Doctor #5 and decided that finding a shrink wasn't worth it.

Because really, people only call these offices when they are either depressed or crazy. It's not like the gynecologist where you're calling because it's that time of the year. Nobody looks up from their perfectly perfect life and says,

You know, I think I'd like to have a yearly checkup with a shrink just to validate my feeling of perfection.

So why would you make it so fucking hard?? If I was depressed I would have slit my wrists after the migraine inducing beeps. And if I was dangerously insane or just a teensy bit more neurotic than I am, I would have flipped out on the nosy receptionist.

Fawk You Friday and Blogstalk Friday

It's Friday!!


I do realize that it's called "Fawk You" Friday, but I'm sorry, I cuss with every other word that comes out of my mouth. I'm not holding back now.

Fuck you Shrinks. It's not nice to play around with people's sanity just for your own amusement. I bet you record those calls for "quality assurance" and sit there at your Shrink parties laughing your asses off.

Fuck you Migraines. 4 days is too long. You're not going to make me miss work or punch my husband in the trachea. So give it up already. I will, however, someday find someone to cut off my head, and when I do, you are toast.

Fuck you Perry. When you walk in to pick something up "real quick", it does not mean "stay for 30 minutes", especially not in the middle of family dinner.

Fuck you Mom. My doctor's appointments are none of your damn business!!

That's enough for one week, I think.

Also there's CB's Blogstalk Friday with her new nifty button.

2 Truths and a Lie

I am not actually playing this week.. I've got nothing, but I couldn't leave you hanging from last week.

1. I once killed a frog just to watch it die.

Lie.

Are you kidding me, Bean would divorce me on the spot. Have you seen his picture on the sidebar?? I told him this was the lie from last week and he pouted about it for 45 minutes!!

I did however once kill a frog completely on accident.

2. My favorite band of all time is Queen.

True.

I love Queen. "Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon", "Love of My Life", "You're My Best Friend".. I love it. They make me, laugh and cry and sing along.. It's perfection.

3. My husband calls himself the Uni-baller.

True.

Bean has this hideous gray hoodie and he also only has one ball. So when he wears it, he pulls up the hood and calls himself the Uni-baller.

The Queen of the Guilt Trip, The Mistress of Manipulation

The grocery store.


Yeah, doesn't sound very threatening, does it.


But in my house, one trip to the grocery store is cause for an assload of tension and guilt trips.

Mom is supposed to take care of the grocery shopping, but she's a mediocre shopper at best.

She never looks to see what we need. And if I make a list, she doesn't look for it, or if she does, she leaves it at home.

Usually she comes home with chips and cookies, and maybe some fruit if I'm lucky.

But no meat. No onions. No rice or diced tomatoes. Nothing you would actually use to cook a meal.

The kids started back to school on Tuesday. And Mondays are supposed to be Family Nights when Bean's off. But Monday, I got home from work and she hadn't gone to the grocery store yet, because Tallulah didn't want to go and she was waiting for someone to get home.

It's now 4:30 and she's not looking like she's moving. The kids go to bed at 8:00.

Me: Ok.. so you're going to take Oliver?

Mom: Yes.

Me: Umm.. tonight is family dinner night, Mom.

Mom: So?

Me: So, we have nothing to make for dinner (because you haven't been to the grocery store in a month) and while we could go out, I would need Oliver for that. So are you going to go?

Mom: Jeez!! I didn't know I had to go before you got home!!

There was absolutely nothing to gain in pointing out that she didn't. But she couldn't take Oliver with her if she expected me to be pleased with her waiting.

Me: Why don't we just go this week?

Mom: I'm going!!

I can't win for losing.

See, my Mom may at times seem to be lazy, and she's often the sweetest woman you've ever met. But unless you have no heart, don't make the mistake of trying to do battle with her.

She's the Queen of the Guilt Trip, and the Mistress of Manipulation. Even though I know I'm being manipulated and guilt tipped, it doesn't matter. My mediocre will crumbles before the onslaught of the expressive sighs and multi-layered meanings.

I can't help it.

Bean asked me today if I want to move.

In some ways the answer to that is an enthusiastic

YES!!

But I can't. I'm tied. With the bonds of love.

And guilt.

Post-It Notes Tuesday

What's in There??

We're going to start a new little periodic feature, because this has been cracking me the hell up, and it's not fair that I don't share it with y'all.

One of my co-workers, FNG, drives a truck. And really, you just never know what you're going to find in the back of FNG's truck. One day it's beer boxes, the next, uprooted plants, who knows..

This was today:




Yes, that is a green toilet.

I told you, I work with a bunch of redneck men.

I have no idea what he's doing with it or where he got it, but it's in the back of the truck today.

Since it appears to be with all of his fishing stuff, I can only assume it's for use when he fishes, but God, I hope not.

I also hope that it's supposed to be green.

Things I Don't Know..

I'm not an unintelligent person.

I mean, yeah, often I'm a little daft, or a whole lot naive, but I'm not stupid.

However, there are some things I don't know.

• What #whatever means on Twitter.
• What alot of stuff means on Twitter, really.
• How to use Twitter, what exactly am I supposed to post??
• Why people think that I'm such a bitch. I'm not, but when they think I am, it makes me want to be.
• How to train a dachshund without killing it.
• How to redo my blog layout.
• How to make a button.
• How to make a facebook badge.

I'm not sure that I'm necessarily looking for answers here, though if you have them, and want to share, go for it, I'm not complaining..

I'm just feeling very medicated recently and therefore more ditsy and crazy and exhausted than normal, if that's at all possible.

And really, this is about all my mind processes on most days - things I don't know..

Saint Bean

I alluded to this a bit yesterday bu today you're getting the full story.

Thursday, Bean was sharpening Tallulah's pencils for Supply Drop-off Night,

All 3 Million of them.

Perry walked by.

Keep in mind, we are all in Bean and My house.

Our house.

Not Perry's house.

The house that Perry chose not to live in anymore when he chose not to work on our marriage anymore.

The house that he knew I would bodily throw him out of when he busted out that obelisk that broke the camel's back of our marriage.

The one that Bean moved into.

The one that Bean has made into a home again.

That's the house we were in.



So he walks by Bean sharpening 3 million of his daughter's pencils to take to school and he says:

So you finally found a job suited to your education level?


I'll wait while you pick your jaw up off the floor.






I'll wait a little longer while you sputter and cuss.





Bean didn't hit him.

I didn't hit him. Or yell at him, or back him into a corner and have him begging me to stop berating him within an inch of his life. (I've done that to him before, and I'm only using a little hyperbole).

Though if you can picture Bean bodily holding me, while my feet kicked uselessly at the air and my hands morphed into claws, you're not far off.

Neither of us said a fucking word.

But you know what, Perry??

Don't ask me for gas money again.

Letters of Intent

Dear Children,

I may have to kill your father. I'd like to tell you all about the reasons behind it, but I'm afraid you wouldn't really understand, and I also don't want to scar you for life, so you'll just have to wonder.

Regretfully,
Your Mother


Dear Self,

You look fabulous, simply fabulous. Those new jeans make your ass look amazing, and the cute tops give this insane illusion of boobs.
I promise.

So stop feeling self conscious.

Sincerly,
Your Self


Dear Niece,

What the hell is up with you anyway??

I support any decision you choose to make, but I have to know what the decision is before I can support it, and cryptic facebook messages are no substitution for actual information.

Confusedly,
Your Aunt

2 Truths and a Lie

Tell me 2 truths and a lie and make me guess which is the lie. You've played this game before, so why not join The Scoop on Poop and CA Girl every Thursday by
1.Grabbing the handy little button on the sidebar
2.Posting your 2 truths and a lie
3.Link up
4.Reveal your lie the next week!

As for last week:

1. I have 22 first cousins. Lie.
A little sneaky lie, but a lie nonetheless. Technically I have 12 first cousins. I have 3 "courtesy cousins" who are just the same as family, but are not tecnically. And then when you add in spouses of both actual cousins and courtesy cousins it brings the grand total to 20. I also have a good 15 second and third cousins that I actually speak to.

2. I have never lived by myself. True.
I have always lived with another human being. Actually always with an adult. Even as an adult. Kindof sad, but true.

3. I collect dragons. True.
I can't believe you guys all thought this was the lie!! It may not be impressive or anything, but I love my dragons!! In fact, I really want this dragon side table..

And moving right along:

1. I once killed a frog just to watch it die.

2. My favorite band of all time is Queen.

3. My husband calls himself the Uni-baller.

Take your guess, play along, and next week you'll see the answers!!

The Outing of Jennifer Juniper

I promised this story to Aunt Crazy when she complained about not being able to email replies to my comments.

I could also have titled this:

"Shit You May Have To Go Through If You Want To Be My Friend"

Here you go Aunt Crazy. Just for you because I love you that much.

And also because it's amusing as hell. If you're not me at the time.

I took Oliver to the doctor a few weeks ago for some chest pains he was having (he's fine - it was a bruise, nothing cardiac) and while we were in the waiting room I decided to catch up on my family blog reading, since they had actually posted which they never do.

There were some pictures of a recent home improvement project over at #2's house and I went to comment about how cute it was, typed in my hotmail address and password and..

*GASP*

Jennifer Juniper popped up as the Google ID.

delete delete delete!!!!

You cannot open a popup window because you already have one open

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck.

What to do?

What to do??

What the fuck am I going to fucking do??

Diva Chels is at work. No computer.

Cara & Connie are blogger illiterate.

Fuck me.

Fuck me running with a sword.

I know you guys don't know #2 and Mrs. #2, but they're great. I love them to pieces.

However.

Mrs. #2 is more neurotic than I am (yeah, I know you didn't think that was possible), and her mother, who is one of my favorite aunts (from the other side of the family - it's complicated) sees conditions and problems where they aren't. Plus, Mrs. #2 is so innocent that I think I'd probably shock her with my blunt and snarkey ways.

#2 is as mellow as they come, and really kind of accepts me for who I am, but he's gotten close to Amara recently, and I don't think he really wants to hear me bash her like I do. And his parents, who I bow down in awe of, and adore, are almost too conservative to function, and hate it when I say "darn" in their presence.

So you can see why I wouldn't really want them as readers as much as I love them. If this shit got out, there'd be a big ole' come to Jesus family meeting and JJ would be one pissed off camper.

Also keep in mind that Amara, my bitch of a sister, with the lazer beam eyes and the nails of steal and the heart of stone was the comment right before mine.

Where was I??

Oh yeah.

Fuck me running with a multi-twigged branch.

Miley.

Miley's unemployed.

Miley's TOTALLY blogger literate.



Me: Are you at home?

Miley: Yes.

Me: I'm fucked.

Miley: eh?

Me: insert the whole explanation that I already gave you guys

Miley: ookay..

Me: So can you go log in and delete my comment??

Miley: Oh, yeah, no problem, what's your password?

Me: insert me telling Miley my ridiculously long and hacker-proof password

Miley sheesh, woman.. ok, I'll take care of it.


So I breathed a small sigh of relief.

Then I realized.

When someone posts a comment on my blog, I get an email.

And in that email, if I click on their name, it goes to their profile.

That's when the text messages started flying.



Miley: Done.

Me: Does it say who deleted the comment??

Miley: Nope - I went back and checked.

Me: God I hope he doesn't have it set up to email him about comments but it probably does and then I'm totally fucked!!

Miley: Nah you'd be ok. I think. I'll tell you what it looks like, I don't think there's a link to a site.

Me: But it says who left the comment and they might go digging.

Me: Does it have their profile pic??

Miley: Eh go change your user name real quick?

Me: I'm all fucking paranoid now!!

Miley: Calm down hon.

Miley: No pic.

Me: No. I'm not going to let nosy family members make me change my blog stuff.

There was more. But mostly it boiled down to us deciding that there was indeed a link in the emails and Miley agreeing to go take down all the identifying information from my profile and making it private for awhile so that at least they wouldn't be able to follow it back to link up to the blog. Because while I can do that from my phone, it's a pain in the ass.

And that, my dear Aunt Crazy is why you couldn't reply via email to my comments, but no longer, my profile is back for your viewing pleasure and reply to your heart's content.



By the way, I saw #2 this weekend and he did get the email, did know it was from me, and said he doesn't care, and insinuated that he'll keep Mrs. #2 off my back. We'll see.

Either way, I've decided that I don't care. If the family wants to come and read the blog that I didn't tell them about, that I don't particularly want them to read, then let them.

Maybe we'll weed out some of the dickwhistles, fucktards and douchecanoes and then at least my Christmas list will be shorter.

Post-It Notes Tuesday

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.

Missing Persons Report

You would not believe how difficult it is to file a missing persons report.

Even when your best friend is a police officer.

I may or may not have tried to file one on Aunt Crazy who has been missing from blogland since last Friday.

Me: Superman, I need to file a missing persons report.

Superman: You know that I don't normally handle those right?

Me: I know, but I'm special, and this is a special case, and it's very important. So you can help me, right??

Superman: I suppose I can at least take the information and point you in the right direction.. What's this about?

Me: Well, see, one of my favorite bloggers is missing.

Superman: ??

Me: Blogger, you know, someone who writes a blog?? Anyway, no one has heard from her in a week. That's long enough for a missing person report, right??

Superman: Umm, what's her name??

Me: Aunt Crazy.

Superman: Excuse me??

Me: Aunt Crazy.

Superman: Are you serious??

Me: Absolutely.

Superman: What does she look like??

Me: No idea.

Superman: Ok....... Ummm.. Where does she live??

Me: Texas

Superman: Jenn, Texas is a big state, could you be more specific??

Me: Not really. We're not big on specifics places in blogland. Maybe somewhere close to Houston, she likes the Astros.

Superman: (ahem..) Well, is there any other useful information you can give me??

Me: Sure!! She's married, and her husband's name is Uncle Bubba, and they have two children, but I don't remember their names.

Superman: Let me get this straight. You want me to put out an APB on a woman named "Aunt Crazy" who you have no physical description for who lives somewhere in Texas, possibly the greater Houston area, has been missing for an unspecified amount of time, and is married to a man named "Uncle Bubba", who, I assume you also cannot describe, and has two children who you cannot name or presumably describe??

Me: Yup. That sounds about right.

Superman: Yeah, I can't do that, Jenn. Sorry.

Oh Where Oh Where Has Aunt Crazy Gone????????????

Buckle on your shotguns, gather up the hounds. I'm about ready to round up the search parties!!

Where is Aunt Crazy?!?!?

I miss her!!

I'm worried about her!!!

And more importantly..

I'm BORED!!!!

*Seriously though, if any of y'all (Candance) are cool enough to have real means of communication with her (Candance) then could you maybe drop her a line to tell her that she's being thought of and missed (Candance) and worried about (Candance) and possibly added to some prayer lists and maybe even some missing persons reports with some very confused local authorities who tell me they cannot find anybody if the best I can tell them about their husband is that he answers to the moniker of "Uncle Bubba".

Fawk You Friday & Fucked Up Friday Follow

It's time for Fawk You Friday!!!!!

And it's even better, because CB's back and so is Fucked up Friday Follow!!!!!

It's been one of those weeks, I've been waiting for this..

Fuck you judgemental busy-body ass people who think you know the whole story of someone's life based on what you see after spending five minutes with them.
You don't know anything. Mmm-kay??

Fuck you Perry, again. You don't get to come into my house and tell me what I get to say. If you wanted to be able to do that, then maybe you should have worked a little harder on our marriage.

Fuck you Dr. No Personality, still. I'm still gaining weight and now my fucking migraines are back, so thank you very much. And fuck you.

Do You Have To Be So Blunt??

Perry was over on Wednesday for his visitation with the kids and Bean was working, so I was helping Perry make dinner for the kids and trying to be sociable, because that's what grown-up, mature divorced parents do - or so I'm told.

And whenever I do something like that I try to make conversation about something completely innocuous that could never in any way be construed as being related to:

1. An attack on his parenting.

2. An attack on his manliness.

3. A comment on our crappy marriage.

4. A comment on my new wonderful marriage.

5. A comparison between my new wonderful marriage and our old crappy marriage.

6. His crazy family.

This week I chose Rowlf. He's losing his nuts next week.

And of course anytime two grown-ups (or two people in general) are having a conversation Oliver feels the need to eavesdrop.

Me: Rowlf is getting his nuts chopped off next Wednesday.

Perry:??

Oliver:WHAT??

Me: Bean's taking Rowlf to get his nuts chopped off next Wednesday. Do you want him to take you next Thurday now that we know where to go?

Oliver: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Perry: Jenn, do you have to be so blunt? The word is neutered.

Me: So, Oliver, was that no for Rowlf's nuts or for yours??

I didn't answer Perry, because really it wasn't worth it, but I'd like to take this opportunity to answer him.

Yes, Perry, in MY kitchen while eating MY food and talking to MY children, I do have to be that blunt. And really is "neutered" so much of a better word?? At least my choice of words completely describes exactly what the procedure is going to be instead of using euphemisms and other malarkey to make someone feel better about what they're doing to their animal.

I am chopping the nuts off of my beloved dog. I signed a fucking contract saying that I would chop the nuts off of said dog before I could buy him for a third of what he was worth, and people are paying ridiculous amounts of money for what are essentially mutts - but I really wanted one. So those bad boys are coming off. But you know what?? I'd chop them off even if I didn't have a contract, because my boy still squats to pee, and he doesn't mark any territory and I like it that way.


How's that for blunt, Perry?? And you know what?? You can take your comments, your euphemisms, and your malarkey right on over to Fawk You Friday.

Fawk You Friday

Don't Forget Fawk You Friday!!

You don't have to be all vulgar (unless you want to be - like me) - it's super fun and completely lowers your blood pressure.

2 Truths and a Lie

Tell me 2 truths and a lie and make me guess which is the lie. You've played this game before, so why not join The Scoop on Poop and CA Girl every Thursday by
1.Grabbing the handy little button on the sidebar
2.Posting your 2 truths and a lie
3.Link up
4.Reveal your lie the next week!

So last week everyone thought I was a big whore.. now's the time when you find out whether you're right..

1. I am 5'9" - Lie. I'm 5'5" barefoot and between 5'7" and 5'8" in heels, which is what I usually wear, I have a height complex.

2. Bean is the 8th sex partner I've had. - Completely and totally True. Not a whore. Sorry to disappoint.

3. Stevie Ray Vaughn was my cousin. - True. And Miss Nikki - I would have said "was" even if he was still alive because he was my distant cousin by marriage, to Lenny, who the song was about, and they divorced, so he stopped being my cousin before he died.

And moving right along to this week:

1. I have 22 first cousins.

2. I have never lived by myself.

3. I collect dragons.

Take your guess, play along, and next week you'll see the answers!!

Me Want a Cookie!!

Sorry about yesterday people..

Here’s the deal, I’ve gotten all kinds of fat lately. And this is not a weight loss blog and it never will be, but it is my blog and I need to lose some weight, so it will get mentioned every now and then. And I also hate being all needy and whiny, but it's bound to happen sometimes..

See in high school I was weighing in around 135 or so. Then I got pregnant with Oliver and put on about 60 lbs with that.

And I lost most of it, ending up at about 150.

Then Tallulah came along and I put on another 60 lbs during that pregnancy and I only lost about 30 lbs of that.

So 3 years ago I was weighing in at around 180 lbs.


And I don’t look huge at 180.


I look chubby.

I’ve been very blessed with this great hourglass figure - if I had boobs then I’d be Betty fucking Boop.

But 180 lbs is too much for me.

I have this theory.

Yes, another one.

I think that you have to pick a weight. And I don’t think it matters what it is, but I think you have to pick a weight that it’s not okay with you to go over. Because if you don’t then where do you stop??

I look fine at 180, so really, what’s wrong with 200?? I bet I don’t look bad there either. But then before you know it, I’ll be 220, and really, what’s the big deal?? So now I’m 250 and now I’m not chubby, I’m certifiably fat, but hey, I’ve still got my hourglass, so really, what’s wrong with 250?? Let’s move on to 275.. And on, and on until the number is too overwhelming to lose.



The weight I’ve picked is 150.



I’m not okay weighing over 150 lbs.



And I don’t think that’s unreasonable. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s still overweight for me according to that whole BMI thing.



Anyway.

Over the last 3 years, I’ve gotten my butt in gear and started making better food choices: not eating much fried, and if there’s a choice, I always choose white meat over red, more veggies, lighter meals, eating breakfast, not too much junk food, etc.

And it really paid off. I went from 180 to 146. It came off slowly, and I didn’t always lose, but if I wasn’t losing, I knew why, I knew that I hadn’t been eating as I should, and after a few weeks of being back on track, the pounds started to come off again.



And I kept the weight off for over a year, long enough to get rid of my fat clothes.



Then in November, I started gaining.



It was slow, and I didn’t really think anything of it at first, it was the holidays for crying out loud, and I was getting married, there was a party around every corner.



Then in February it was still going on. I hit 160 something and got fed up. I went hard core and started making smoothies at home (so that I knew exactly what was in those bad boys) and I’d have one for breakfast and one for lunch and then have some chicken and a small salad for dinner, obviously with some healthy snacks thrown in between.

For three weeks I did this.


My calorie intake was less than 1200.



I gained 10 lbs.



Then my migraines got worse and started giving me some bizarre visual auras, so I went to a headache specialist, Dr. Headache, in May who changed my meds. – Which, by the way, worked great.



In June I went to Dr. No Personality to talk about my weight and he ran tests on everything, but was pretty convinced it was the meds that Dr. Headache put me on. Even though the weight gain started in November and the meds started in May.

The blood tests were all fine when I went back to Dr. No Personality last month and he took me off of one of the meds Dr. Headache put me on, put me back on another medication that doesn’t work and makes me sleepy and said he wanted to give it 2 more months to see if that helped.

So now here we are, I’m exhausted, still gaining weight and my migraines are back full force.



Thus the pizza splurge and yesterday's post.



I feel like my body has betrayed me, and my Doctor's not taking me seriously, plus I hurt and I’m tired, so I’m a little depressed about the whole thing, which makes me want a cookie, or a whole pizza, or both.

Post-It Notes Tuesday

Penis Enlargement??

Lately I've been getting alot of anonymous comments about penile enlargement.

And it's got me wondering:

Do I need penile enlargement??

Do these advertisers know something I don't know??

Do those things actually work??

How do they work??

Why would they think that leaving a comment on my blog is going to make me jump up and say, "YES!! I NEED me some penis enlargement!!"

Is there something about my name that says "yup, she needs her a big ole' penis"??

I mean I guess when you get right down to it, I really do need a much larger penis, since I have no penis at all, but really I'm good.

Bean has it all under control, thanks.

Getting to Know You

I'm a little late, but I'm going to play anyway..

1. Do you think mustaches are sexy?

Oh fuck, absolutely not. Probably because I live in Texas, and most of the mustaches around here are very bushy and live on the faces of the over 50 cowboy crowd, but no. Absolutely not. (If you ever read this Bean - NEVER grow just a 'stache, the Van Dyke is fine, goatees are great, no 'staches in my bed, thank you.)

2. What's the last concert you've been to?

Umm.. I think it was Darius Rucker, maybe..

3 What was your favorite 80's sitcom?

Well keep in mind that I was only 9 in 1990, but I really liked Growing Pains. Kirk Cameron was cute. Plus, young Leonardo DiCaprio.

4. Were you named after anyone?

Yes, two of my aunts.

5. When you buy new clothes, do you wash before wearing?

Depends on what they are. A shirt, probably not, underwear, absolutely.

6. If you didn't blog, what would you do with your spare time?

Read, watch tv maybe. God forbid I actually do some housework.

7. What is your favorite department store?

I really like Dillard's. I'm not sure why, I just do.

8. If you were to get Laser Hair Removal..where would you get it?

Hands down bikini line!! No more waxing or shaving would be fucking awesome!!

Commencement

It's time to get a little sappy and serious y'all. Sorry.

My cousin, Hero is about 5 years younger than I am, and she and I have a lot in common - we're both a little on the volatile side, we have similar ideas of how people should live (as in how often you should do the dishes and what it means to do laundry), we are both crazy loyal to our friends and love our family, and we both had a not so great childhood.

I think Hero would probably agree with the way I like to describe my childhood,

A lot of people had it worse, but it should have been better.

She moved in with us during high school, mostly because I was feeling pushy one day, and after high school she went to the community college nearby.

She was doing really well, working, going to class and not a whole lot of partying (which is unnatural, but, hey). And then she came up pregnant.

She moved back home with her dad and took her boyfriend with her and transfered everything to the Community College of BFE.

And had the most gorgeous daughter, Cassidy.

And you know, she's an amazing mother. She plays with her, takes good care of her, disciplines her. I have no idea where she learned it, because she certainly didn't have a good model growing up, but that girl is amazing.


Hero graduated with her bachelor's degree yesterday from Sam Houston State.


I want to say I'm proud of her, but for some reason that sounds condescending coming from me, little Ms. No Degree.

I think that it would be more accurate to say that I'm in awe of her.

She graduated from college in 5 years.

With a child.

While working. And paying bills. And putting up with bullshit.

We have other cousins and family members with college degrees, she's not the first. And I'm not belittling anyone who went to college, but Amara and Mrs. #2 didn't work through college at all. And #1, #2, and #3 may have worked through college, but they didn't have a child and they could have gone back home to the parents whenever they wanted.

Plus, there are people on every corner and in every walk of life who use childhood's like Hero had as excuses for being assholes, and for not being able to do anything productive, and I'm not sure that it even occurred to her that it's an option.

I'm in awe.

Also, I'm ashamed.

Of myself.

Because I couldn't do it.

I couldn't do it before my first marriage because I was an idiot. And I couldn't do it while I was married to Perry because he wouldn't have supported me and he truly made me feel like an imbecile, plus he would have seen an affair in every classroom.

And now, there's the bills and Bean's health and all these other things that make me feel like I shouldn't.

When I think that maybe the real issue is that I'm terrified I'll fail.

But Hero kind of makes me feel like I can. Not because if she can do it, then I can do it better, but because it makes me realize that the personality traits that she has that made it possible for her to finish, are traits that we share.

Impatience - we don't like to wait for someone else to do something, we'll just do it our selves.

Stubbornness - we will make it work this way dammit!!

So really, the only thing Hero's got on me is bravery, and that she has in spades.




I love you Hero and you are mine.

I've Got a Theory

And it’s not bunnies.




Actually, I have several theories.




One is about my new bloggy friend, Just Me.


See, I started getting comments from Just Me, and she was super nice. I mean her comments were so sweet, and funny and well thought out. It was like she knew me!! And I think I even followed her back to her blog and thought:

This is such a great blog!! Why am I not following this blog?!?! It’s just like a blog I would follow!!
As soon as I get home and on my real computer, I’m totally going to follow my nice new bloggy friend!!

And then my brain farted.


But this week I was organizing my gmail and making little labels for all the people that need labels, and I was sad.

Because my old bloggy friend, Christy, stopped commenting on my blog.



Did I piss her off??


Am I not funny anymore??


Did I not comment on her blog enough??


What happened??




So the next morning I went to her blog.


And you know what?? Just Me hijacked Christy's blog!!


So I sent Just Me a message. And you know what?? They're the same person. Christy still loves me.


Yes, I was born blonde.





Another one of my theories is that Miss Nikki and I would be best friends if we ever really met in person.


Actually, I think that Miley shares this theory with me.


We love Miss Nikki. We think she is the bees knees.


I think that if she came to Texas I might have to gently break it to her that I’m not a lesbian. Because she would love me THAT much.



Ok, maybe not that much.




But she would definitely not be going back to whatever not Texas place it is that she lives in.



Booby would just have move his ass to Texas with her.



Oh, and I agree with her that Booby and Bean would be best buds. But it kind of disturbs me, because both of their blog pseudonyms kindof sound like baby comfort items.. and together they really do, so maybe not.





My last theory is that a South Texas Blogger Party would be fun.


I’m totally ganking this idea from Bluzdude. He had a Darwinfishfry and posted pictures and it looked like a blast.


So my theory is that if we had a South Texas Blogger Party (only good God, someone has to come up with a better name than that) it would be a riot, almost literally, since I'm pretty sure that all the Texas blogs I read are written by at least sorta insane loud women.. so there might have to be a bond collection and some designated bail posters.


Except that I’m a mousy, quiet, annoying thing in person. Miley, however, she’s exactly like she is on her blog.

I Might be a Stalker.. Sorta

Ok, so I really hope that you guys are reading what I mean, not necessarily what I write, because otherwise I should just re-title this post:

“JJ’s a Psycho Stalker Beware!!”


I was reading Aunt Crazy’s post the other day about how she had to break up with her boyfriend and I realized that she is from somewhere in the vicinity of Houston.


Now for those of you not from Houston, that means that you live just about anywhere within a two hour driving distance from Houston and Houston is about an hour to an hour and a half drive across, so it means nothing. And my rational mind totally knows this.


But my not rational mind started screaming:

Oh my giddy AUNT!!!!!! Aunt Crazy lives close to me!!!!!!! I am SO cool by association!!!!! The Bloggess AND Aunt Crazy live in MY city!!!!! It has to be the COOLEST city EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


And when I was done screaming about that I made my way over to Crazy Texas Mommy to see what she was up to.




And Holy Shit.




She’s coming to Houston to hang out with Aunt Crazy (because she is awesome enough to do that you know).




I thought my head was going to explode.




And I started feeling kind of like a celebrity stalker.

Only not in the “I’m-going-to-camp-outside-your-hotel-and-take-pictures-of-a-random-window-and-claim-its-yours” kind of way, but in the “Fucking-A-I’m-going-to-be-in-the-same-city-as-the-coolest-people-ever” kind of way.


And it started making me want to accost people on the street and tell them to stop littering and pull up their pants, because Aunt Crazy and Crazy Texas Mommy might see them, and they should look their best for Aunt Crazy and Crazy Texas Mommy!! But then I really started thinking about it, and decided I would be doing my bloggy friends a disservice, because Houston has a lot of really blog worthy stuff – like idiots with their pants around their ankles, and if I go around fixing it all, then that’s not fair, I wouldn’t want to deprive them of good blog material, so I’ll just leave everything alone, because I’m nice like that.


So yeah, I’m excited.


But, for the record, Candance and Aunt Crazy, I’m a total wimp in person, so even if I did recognize you on the street, there might be a little whispering to Bean (but no pointing, because that’s rude), and I might swoon, but that’s about it. I’m way too chicken shit to actually walk up and bother someone. So you can safely have a blast in my city with no worries about any crazies on the corner.*


*Ok, maybe not, because there’s a lot of crazies on the corner here, but none of them will be me, I promise.

2 Truths and a Lie

Tell me 2 truths and a lie and make me guess which is the lie. You've played this game before, so why not join The Scoop on Poop and CA Girl every Thursday by
1.Grabbing the handy little button on the sidebar
2.Posting your 2 truths and a lie
3.Link up
4.Reveal your lie the next week!

So last week, I told you that:

• With the exception of one, every man I've ever dated has proposed in some way or another.
  True - with the exception of Alien, Oliver's biological father, ever man/boy I have ever dated has at the very least talked marriage plans with at least moderate seriousness.
• Oliver is taking tap classes in the fall.
  Lie - Oliver is taking Hip Hop in the fall. Way to go Momma Bear, Kristy & whoever the hell anonymous is.
• I once toured Europe playing in a Band.
  True. But, it was a band consisting of french horns, trumpets and clarinets, not guitars, drums and keyboards. It was the summer after my senior year in high school and it was way cool.
  
  On to this week's list..
  
• I am 5'9".
• Bean is the 8th sex partner I've had.
• Stevie Ray Vaughn was my cousin.
  
  
  Take your guess, play along, and next week you'll see the answers!!
  

Life With Bean

Bean was home this weekend, and I actually had my phone ready to record all the Beanisms that happen, so I thought I'd share..

• I was reading Lazy to Lady and he was looking over my shoulder and suddenly yells out, "Are you looking at AK 47s so you can kill me?!?! ". You really have to actually look at her blog to see how funny this is, but really, it's pink and black and very girly, no AK 47s present.
• He then started trying to further distract me from my blog reading by telling me how he has trouble pronouncing words when he reads them for the first time. You know like Yo se might and Peeneylope instead of Yosemite and Penelope.
• If you're married to Lorena Bobbit yosemite be careful or you might get your peneloped.
• Yes, he actually said that.
• He also asked if I was going to blog about this.
• And then he huffed and puffed about me making fun of him for awhile.
• Then he said, "It's a good thing you have me around or you wouldn't have anything to blog about."
• Because you know, he has 3 knees.

Post-It Notes Tuesday

The Death of a Friend

I lost a dear friend today.

I met her a little over two years ago, and we had an instant connection.

She was way hotter than me, but it was ok, because she really preferred to be in the background, hidden.

She lifted me up when I felt droopy, made me feel so comfortable in her presence and I felt cool just knowing she was there.

I can probably count the days I went without her on one hand.

But today, she died.

I saw it coming.

There were signs.

I tried to find a replacement to no avail.

She's irreplaceable.

Noone will ever be able to make me look as good as she did while feeling as good as I did with her.





That's right people. We're talking about my favorite bra.