Monday, November 04, 2013

him: We have to leave in a minute, are you going to get dressed?

me (looking down at my sweats and baggy t-shirt): It's 7AM and I'm going to have dental surgery. Unless we're stopping at the White House for coffee on the way, I think I'm good.


In related news, dental surgery suuuuuuuucks, I'm going to die if I have to eat soft food for days and I didn't even get to keep my tooth like the doctor said (but I did get a prescription for Vicodin, so that's a little consolation).

Labels: first world problems

Friday, August 30, 2013

me (asleep): ...

him (off work today for the long weekend, loudly "creeping" into the bedroom and clearing his throat): ...

me (peeling one eye open):...

him: were you planning on sleeping all day?

me: I was working on it...

him: do you know what time it is?

me: I don't. On account of having been asleep.

him: it's 11.

me: huh.

him: I wish I could sleep until 11.

me: yeah, it's a talent.

him: I've been up since 6:30.

me: huh.

him: ...

me: did [the kid] get up, have breakfast and get off to school okay?

him: yes...?

me (rolling over and pulling the covers up) : my work here is done.

Labels: first world problems, I'm a jackass

Saturday, August 17, 2013

I've seen some debate online about "selfie culture"

The people in favor of it are in favor of it because young people (mostly) are in control of how they are being portrayed to the world.

The people opposed to it are opposed to it because young people (mostly) are in control of how they are portrayed to the world.

I can't help but think that future civilizations are going to be perplexed as to why the males of our species were unable to be photographed without their tongues sticking out and/or their brows furrowed, and why the females of our species were unable to be photographed without making a kissy face or having their mouths open. I suspect people will think it's some kind of neurological tic caused by genetically modified food.

I figure you can post as many half-clothed, pouty-faced, bathroom mirror selfies as you want, but just remember that if you commit a crime or are the victim of a crime, that duck-faced picture you hashtagged "#nomakeup", "#nofilter", #nopanties" is going to be splashed across the news and you're going to wish you hadn't filtered and photoshopped it to death because there's no way anyone is going to be able to recognize you (or not depending on whether you are the criminal or the kidnapped person).

Labels: first world problems, just sayin'

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Albert Einstein once said “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results".

 Every single summer, cosmetics companies say to me "Hey, Pasty White Girl, you should try some self-tanner."

And I respond "No, thank you, I hate that stuff, it always smells like pee and makes my skin orange-y and streaked."

And they say "That was last year's product, this new product is SO DIFFERENT. No pee smell, no streaks, just a healthy glow! Technology! Natural stuff! Pleasant smell! Spray bottle that makes it impossible to mess up!"

And I say "Are you sure?"

And they say "Have we ever lied to you before? Seriously, try it."

And I say "Okay, here's my $10, give me a healthy skincolor!"

And then the next day, I look like an Oompa Loompa with a skin condition and walk around trying to figure out why I keep smelling urine.

Every. Single. Summer.

Labels: first world problems, I'm an idiot, pointless whining

Monday, July 01, 2013

The new house has an ant problem.

The biggest reason this sucks is... ants.

The next biggest reason this sucks is because I'm a fucking slob and these little fuckers are forcing me to be cleaner than I ever wanted to be - no more brioche crumbs on the floor or dirty dishes on the counter for two days. Nope, I have to clean up everything right when I'm done with it. Thanks a lot, ants.

Labels: first world problems

Friday, June 28, 2013

I have never been happier to receive an Amazon package than I was to get this one

Was it a movie? A CD? Cute underwear?

Nope, none of that, it was vitamins.

Vitamins?

Yes, vitamins.

For the last 3 months (or so) I've complained to my shrink that I'm still depressed and meds and exercise and a sunshine-simulating lamp aren't doing a much since I still spend most of my time sleeping, wishing I were sleeping or calculating how long it will be until I can be asleep. The doc finally ordered some blood work and it came back this week all perfect except for a double genetic mutation.

Not even gonna lie, I was a little bit excited about being told that I'm a genetic mutant. Like, when do I get my class schedule for Xavier Institute for Higher Learning? And where do I find one of those spandex unitards?

Unfortunately, it turns out that I don't get to be a shapeshifter or control the weather, the only superpower I get is that my body is unable to properly process or utilize folic acid and vitamin B-12. So I need fancy, science-y vitamins that are a little bit spendy, but you know what? I'm worth it.
Not to sound like a commercial or anything, but if you're a crazy person like I am and your meds aren't working as well as they should, you should get your MTHFR checked out. And you should refer to it as the MOTHERFUCKER gene because it kind of is. (Seriously, though, the science behind this is new-ish, but it's been linked to all kinds of shitty stuff like schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, autism, fibromyalgia, irritable bowel syndrome, migraines, strokes, and a bunch of other gross stuff. Google it, research it, talk to your doctor about it)

Labels: first world problems, le crazy

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

I've kind of been feeling like I'm having a shitty week* and then, when I was on my way home from dropping off my kid at school, I saw a guy coming out of a liquor store at 8:30AM, clutching a 6 pack of Budweiser like it was his only friend in the world

So, yeah, I'm officially no longer complaining.

*blah blah blah depression, blah blah blah stress about moving

Labels: first world problems, le crazy, pointless whining

Monday, April 22, 2013

Do you ever have those times when you realize that the younger you would never recognize your current life?

Like when, in the same week, you have an appointment with a private Catholic high school admissions counselor for your kid and then an appointment with a veterinary oncologist* for your cat.

Although, that moment you realize that you have nothing remotely appropriate** to wear to the school/church thing, you do know that the younger you is still lurking around somewhere.



*last week my precious Siamese cat was diagnosed with cancer and he's only 8-years-old and he's the coolest cat and let's not going to talk about it anymore because I'm barely keeping it together right now, k?

** I know that the school really can't say shit to me as long as the checks clear and my kid doesn't organize an on-campus live animal sacrifice, but I don't want people to treat him differently because his mom is a dirtbag who wears nothing but dirty jeans and tank tops.

Labels: first world problems

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

House hunting in Southern California is ridiculous.

You start out by looking at the chunk of change that you've been approved to spend and you think "that's a pretty significant chunk of change, I bet we can get an awesome place!" So you come up with a completely unreasonable wish list, stuff like:

• Something mid-century modern, clean lines, open feeling, interesting architectural details
• Original wood floors
• At least 2000 square feet (but not too much more because that would be greedy)
• Maybe 3 bathrooms (but definitely not more, that's too much cleaning)
• A HUGE bathtub in one of the bathrooms, somewhere I could at least stretch out my legs
• A nice backyard for the dogs
• Maybe a pool?
• Maybe a koi pond
• A vegetable garden (or at least a big place for one)
• Maybe a couple of fruit trees
• A 6-burner gas stove
• Stainless steel appliances
• A GINORMOUS walk-in closet
• A room hidden behind a sliding bookcase
• A moat (with or without a dragon)
• A curved driveway
• 3 car garage
• Quiet, safe neighborhood

you know you won't get everything on the list, but you figure you should probably be able to get more than half because that's not unreasonable, right?

A month into house-hunting, you think there are some things on the list that you could probably live without. I mean, a pool is a lot of work. And a moat probably requires some kind of special insurance. And trying to keep the dogs out of a koi pond would probably be a hassle. And no one really needs a 6-burner stove, 4 is always sufficient. And you'd probably show off the hidden room so much that it would completely negate the secrecy of it. And 1500 square feet would really be more than enough as long as it's laid out well.

Three months into house-hunting, you pretty much just cross your fingers when you're on the way to a viewing that the house isn't an active crime scene. Anything else will be fine and you should probably just put in an offer if you ever want to buy anything.

Labels: first world problems

Friday, October 26, 2012

You know you rely on Google too much

when you're supposed to go somewhere, but really would rather stay home in your pajamas and paint your toenails and you Google "excuses to get out of going out tonight".

Google gave me nothing (not on the first page of results anyway and who goes past the first page? No one) and I ended up just saying "plans changed, can't go out, sorry" - laziest. excuse. ever.

If I can't count on Google for stuff like this, I'm really going to need to stop making plans with people.

Labels: first world problems, I'm a jackass

Thursday, July 12, 2012

There needs to be a word stronger than "sad"

Because I've been mired in depression for... oh, I don't know, it's been really bad for the last week or two and the only thing worse than feeling neck deep in sadness is expecting people to understand that I'm hyper-sensitive, sleeping all the time, crying all the time and more or less unable to participate in my own life because I'm "sad".

But that's honestly the only way I can describe it. I'm just needlessly and unreasonably sad.

And I'm taking my meds, I'm getting enough sleep, I'm cleaning the house, I'm exercising (when I'm capable of leaving the house), I've tried alienating everyone I like, I've tried listening to sad songs, I've tried listening to happy songs, I've tried eating chocolate, I've tried shopping (even at Ikea!!!! That's, like, my favorite place ever), I've even looked at depictions of dinosaurs humping and nothing helps at all.

I've dealt with depression my whole life, so it's not like it's something new to me, it's just that I want to reach out or explain it to people. It would be so much easier if it was a physical thing, like a gaping head wound or a bone sticking out of my arm.

Labels: first world problems, le crazy, pointless whining

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Dear My Period,

Imagine my chagrin when I happened to take a peek at my period tracker thing to find that you were scheduled to arrive on the move day. Like I really needed something else to worry about when I'm venturing back into the fun-filled world of Los Angeles area traffic.

And even though you rarely arrive on your scheduled day, I do appreciate that you waited until today, when I finally unpacked enough boxes to find some tampons.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear People Who Did The Packing,

1) I appreciate that even though you were specifically instructed to leave the clothes (INCLUDING MY UNDERWEAR) in the drawers and just move the dressers as is, you decided to pack all the clothes that were in the drawers (INCLUDING MY UNDERWEAR).

2) I really appreciate that I had to go through no less than 8 boxes of stuff marked simply "Kitchen/Glassware" to actually find a single glass or plate. Every time I've moved, I've done a shitty job of marking boxes, but it's not, you know, my JOB or something I'm being paid to do. You might as well just have marked everything as "stuff". Because of your shitty labeling, I'm still unable to find the dish drainer, my embroidery stuff and the bathroom trash cans.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That being said, it's strange and nice to live in a house where more than the bare minimum maintenance has been performed - we now have windows that are double-paned and open because they aren't sealed shut with years of mold, toilets that flush, a garbage disposal, a refrigerator that hasn't yet frozen the stuff on the top shelf and no constant smell of mildew... in retrospect, it kind of seems like my crazy-ass landlord just might have been a slumlord. I used to write it off as him being European and being raised in a poor-ish Community country (it was no good to even ask him about repairing something until it was 200% broken - one of the bathrooms developed a leak, the hot water thing wouldn't turn off and he wouldn't even come over to look at it until the dripping turned into a steady stream), but I think the dude might have just been cheap.

Labels: first world problems, letter to, pointless whining

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Is suggesting I use hotel shampoo grounds for divorce?

Because... just... no.

In the words of my soon-to-be-ex-California-girl embroidery wife - "Dude FUCK hotel shampoo"

So, yes, I will make all kinds of noise as I scrounge through everything in the hotel room to find my keys and stumble downstairs at 6AM to locate the shampoo and conditioner in my car.

I will suck it up and use hotel lotion if I HAVE to, but my hair is already enough of a mess to trust it to that teaspoon of random lemon-sage crap they leave in the rooms.

But I did survive the drive down here (although, it's evident that I'm way too much of a pussy to be driving these freeways, I'm obviously going to need to hire a chauffeur or figure out how to take side streets everywhere) and the moving company is planning on delivering the stuff tomorrow morning and (fingers crossed) we'll have internet and satellite tv on Saturday morning.

And the bonus first-world-problems for today - I have pms (the crimson tide should be cresting any day now), I'm getting sick, the hotel cable only has like 5 channels, my toenail polish looks gross, and I swear my boobs are getting smaller.

Labels: first world problems

Sunday, June 10, 2012

him: you've still got all that craft stuff behind the couch*, were you going to get it packed up**?

me: I started the other day, but there was a spider back there, so... I guess we're leaving that stuff here.

him: ...

me: it was a really big spider.

him: ...

me: seriously, it's all I can do to even be in the living room right now.




*my "crafting studio" is my spot on the couch and the fireplace is right behind it, so I keep a lot of my stuff on the little fireplace bench.

** the company is paying for packing, but I'm trying to organize as much of my stuff beforehand because last time the packers did a crappy job and I couldn't find any of my stuff. Also, the new place is smaller so I'm going to attempt organization for the first time in my life. It will probably last 2 weeks tops.

Labels: first world problems, I'm a jackass

Friday, June 08, 2012

I don't like talking on the phone

I really just don't like it - if you're friends with me, you know that my preferred means of communication is email, after that it's texts, then IM, then hand-written letters, then Morse code, then smoke signals, then telepathy, then phone.

I prefer to gather information from a conversation, digest it, then reply (I like to think I come off smarter that way) - phone conversations aren't like that, they're just so... there. Not to mention how much I hate the banalities of small talk, all the compulsory bullshit you have to go through before you get to whatever the actual conversation is about - "how are you", "how about this weather", "are you doing okay after your entire family was slaughtered by polar bears" - whatever, I'm not paying attention to your answers any more than you are.

Still there are people who insist on calling me and I can only dodge calls for so long.

I learned today that taking a call while grocery shopping is a bad idea because I get into a debate about whether or not Kevin Garnett is too old to be a viable trade option for the Lakers (he's not) and whether or not the Lakers should try to bring back Phil Jackson (they should), whether or not micro-internet fame is lucrative (it's not) and whether or not my soon-to-be neighborhood is a ghetto (it's not) and I pay more attention to the conversation than my shopping and I end up buying weird stuff like Cocoa Chex Mix, Wildberry Fruit Roll Ups and Crying Tiger Ramen instead of actual groceries.





Okay, let's be real, I would have bought the Crying Tiger Ramen anyway because... hello, Crying Tiger Ramen.

Labels: first world problems, I'm a jackass

Monday, June 04, 2012

I am emotionally equipped to handle:

a) moving
b) moving into a way smaller house* than we live in now
c) becoming sort of almost a bit (internet) popular with whole embroidery thing
d) becoming sort of almost a bit successful with the whole embroidery thing
e) some family stuff I don't feel like sharing
f) all of the above - LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING BOSS
g) none. of. the. above.


If I haven't shaved my head, set myself on fire and/or alienated everyone I like by the end of this month, I will consider this experiment in stress a smashing success.


*but it's a very cute house, with hardwoods throughout and it doesn't smell like mold like this house does from all the leaks that it took my landlord over a year to fix

Labels: first world problems, pointless whining

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

I'm pretty sure I'm the last person in the world without a Smart Phone

I mean, yes, I'm ALWAYS home, and I've got the internet here and so I don't really need a Smart Phone, but I still kind of feel like I'm carting around one of these

Labels: first world problems, pointless whining

Thursday, April 12, 2012

And now I need a new favorite pair of jeans

So I go to pick up my favorite jeans from the floor (where I usually keep them between infrequent washings) and I see a piece of fuzz or fur on the front of them - with 2 dogs and 2 cats in the house, bits of fuzz and/or fur are pretty much everywhere, so I turn them around to flick it off and... it's not fuzz or fur, it's a spider.

A fucking spider. On what was once my favorite jeans. And now those jeans are now just a creepy pile of fabric and thread and they will remain on the floor until we move because there is no laundry detergent in the world that will ever get the spider cooties off of there.

Labels: first world problems

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to take a picture of your own ass extreme lower back?

The surgical tape finally fell off in the shower today (with minimal tugging from me) and I just wanted to see what type of stitch the doctor used to close me up - I can't help it, I do embroidery, I want to examine his technique.

Also, it's a good thing I never got a tramp stamp because the 1/2 surgical incision he promised is much closer to 2 inches*.


And here's some bruise pictures, since I can photograph my arm much easier than my butt

this is the part of my wrist where I had the IV


this is the middle of my arm where they attempted an IV


*I can only assume that he figured because it was on my back, (and relative to the size of my ass) I wouldn't notice an extra couple of inches of scar.

Labels: first world problems

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Things About Which I Am Currently Freaking The Fuck Out

• My freaking surgery is Thursday at 7:30AM
• I have to get to the hospital 2 hours ahead of time*
• The night before and the morning of the surgery, I'm only allowed to use some specific hospital-provided bodywash and NO lotion or deodorant**
• The operation is on my lower back which means I'm going to be ass-up on the operating table
• What are they going to do with my arms during the surgery?
• I don't think the hospital has wifi
• I hope they don't make me spend the night, I'd rather just grab a couple of handfuls of meds and go home
• Medical insurance confuses the fuck out of me 
• I just got a freelance writing job with one of MTV's websites and it pays money, real American money - how cool is that? I've even filled out tax forms and everything, so I'm a legit (freelance) employee
• I've gotten a teeny bit of movement back in my left foot

(I'm freaking the fuck out in a good way about the last couple)

*I don't understand - is there going to be a line? Do I have to go through the TSA? Is it a first-come-first-served situation? Will there be snacks? I already got my bloodwork and EKG done.

**I'm so worried about stinking and being leathery - I would say I hope that the operating room is cold so I don't sweat, but I don't want it so cold that the surgeon's hands get all crampy and numb, dude needs to be in prime condition for the tiny little surgery with that microscope and power tool since, if I'm not going to get a cool scar out of this***, it had better get me ambulatory and out of pain

*** it's microsurgery so the incision is going to be less than an inch

Labels: first world problems