I won!

Okay, it’s not actually winning (but it totally is). I went to a holiday party last night (and this morning is a stark reminder of why drinking is not really my thing, also have no tolerance at all – 2 drinks and wooooo!) and I got to see one of my “ex’s” (using air quotes cause it was more extended time period of hookups than actual relationship) and I looked good. I usually do not get to see people that no longer see me naked looking good – case in point the last time I saw another “ex” I literally had on a green pore cleaning face mask. Such is my awkward life.

But last night I was in heels (screw my ankle, it’ll heal again!), a boob-emphasising dress, and my hair was down (true story, I’m 73% more attractive with my hair down).

Now, I have no emotional attachment to this guy and wish him nothing but happiness in life. But YAY! I won because I looked hotter now than I did back then! YAY!


It will be a good day…

Or should I say, it will be a good day, dammit.
The Tuesday¬†following a Monday off has always been a rough day;¬†conversely, I have found most Friday the 13ths to be lovely. Anywhoodle, yesterday was a rough day for no real reason, just found it tough. So I woke up today determined for it to be good. I put on a new (kinda sexy) pair of underwear and a comfy pair of jeans to wear to the office. Unfortunately, once I arrived and was walking up the stairs to get to my office I learned that this particular new underwear is a bit too slippery for denim and my pants keep trying to fall (the fuck) off. As I unlocked the office door and stomped my way into the office, holding my bag with one hand and my pants with the other this thought ran through my head, “well, if there is ever going to be a zombie apocalypse it will happen on a day where I can’t keep my pants on.” This thought made me laugh out loud to myself and reminded me that I wanted to write an apocalypse¬†story (book?) where during the first few chapters our¬†rather well-endowed-in-the chestular-area-heroine spends a significant amount of time finding a bra. Why? Because at this point in my life attempting anything physical (running, fighting zombies, etc.) without adequate support sounds torturous and finding a decent bra during a zombie apocalypse seems like something¬†a normal gal would have to do. Sure, she may have to save the world, but first things first – find a bra.

Okay, extremely random thought completed. Wish me luck with my escapee pants.



random update

Sweet baby cheesus I feel like I have been ridiculously busy lately. Regardless, I love writing so I am trying to give myself the time to do it. 

Okay, so….me. I’m doing okay. I’m flirting with this idea of being happy and let me tell ya, letting myself be happy is super scary (what? y’all know I’m broken) but I’m working on it. 

Got married, and for the record that was super scary too, but by golly it’s been kinda great. 

The only speedbumps in my idyllic highway of life (ha! at the moment. as y’all know there are ALWAYS going to be speedbumps) are my landlords and my boss.  Since I have only so much time to kvetch on here, I’ll save my boss stories for another day. 

 the landlords

okay, so I’m sure they are good people somewhere down deep. Like really really deep. (Or maybe not, who knows?) Their daughter is one of the best people I know, so they can’t be all bad (theoretically). 

About a year ago they offered to sell us the house. We excitedly agreed and decided it made more sense for us to buy the house as a married couple. They encouraged us to have the wedding at their house. We agreed. We arranged everything, paid for everything, and did our best to be conscientious guests. Two days before the wedding I fell down the concrete & tile stairs at their house during a rainstorm and hurt myself rather badly. Toughed it out, kept moving, got married and it was lovely (theoretically, can’t know for sure as the photographer (WHO APPARENTLY DOESN’T UNDERSTAND CLOUD STORAGE OPTIONS) broke his hard drive and lost all of our pictures. Yes, we have had great people look at it, and yes…it’s toast.) We wanted to spend our wedding night at home and we were also responsible for shuttling three of our beloved friends who flew down for the wedding. The morning after the wedding I was hurting badly, but as soon as the Advil kicked in we got up, picked up friends, and took the bows & ribbons down on our way to the house. When we arrived most of the cleanup was done (per their daughter, she and her boyfriend stacked up all the chairs before they left the night before), so we began packing all the stuff away. The next day my mother and I shared a plate of fish and chips and ended up with food poisoning. I felt horrible, she felt horrible and I was freaking exhausted. I did not take my mother to see the adult parade because [see above] food poisoning, exhaustion, and severe back pain. 

Well that was apparently the “last straw” for the landlord who decided to approach me to calmly discuss her feelings in a private chat….no wait, that would have been appropriate, what she decided to do was screech at me about how selfish and ungrateful of a person I am (note: only me, not my new husband) in front of a beach bar of people (including my mother) and how dare I not show up earlier to set up and tear down for my wedding and how dare I not take my mother to the adult parade and then she stomped off. I just sat there and cried. I haven’t heard from her since – except recently to tell us (via email) that we can no longer buy the house and to increase the rent by an additional $200 per month. Then, to add just a little more joy to it, another email came through changing it so we are now responsible to pay for grass cutting (which means our rent just increased by at least $300 per month) – she even was thoughtful enough to suggest it would be great exercise. And the latest bit of joy is that we need to lock in on this great deal for a year lease. 

The shittiest part of it all, is that due to these five beloved idiot rescue dogs (fingers crossed – may have a home for one of them) we are pretty much stuck accepting whatever fucked up “punishment” amendments they decide to force our way. 

Anywhoodle, other than that crap – life is good. If anyone knows of a dog-friendly small house with fenced in yard for rent here on STX, please let me know! ‚̧‚̧‚̧


Random Work Funny

So, my boss’s boss wrote that we should get her all of our emergency contact information ASAP but for all she knew our offices were closed today anyway due to Hurricane Matthew and did we have an emergency back-up office (who the frak has emergency back up offices?!) prepared?

*blinks* ummmm? Dear nice lady in New York, um…..you know we aren’t in Jamaica or Haiti, right?

I created a helpful info-graphic to assist my boss in explaining to her boss a little bit about Caribbean geography.


Now, I don’t think she will actually send this handy little map, but it still makes me giggle.


Seriously?! We need to talk.

Dear body, we need to talk: feet & calves? please stop cramping – it’s just rude. Stomach & esophagus? Maybe stop with the boiling acid – it’s not helpful. Lower right jaw? Dude, you can be all weird and throbby but I have had you x-ray’d and you are like the 3rd dental priority following replacement of the teeth & crowns I have crushed via clenching, so maybe calm your tits. Tits? Carry on being awesome.  Hands? Calm down the shooting pains and knuckle arthritis aching, I’m not even using you all that much, so why all the rage? Cervical spine – carry-on with your low to medium creepy nerve pain; hey, it’s better than average. Lastly, brain? Dude–calm. it. the. fuck. down. The constant zooming thoughts of crap I need to remember but never will is not all that helpful for sleeping.
In conclusion body, I’m hurting pretty badly this night and it’s making sleep impossible because I’ve been significantly shorting myself on pain management meds because I stupidly ordered refills too late and my doctor has moved away and the thought of explaining my vast quantity of medical crap to a new doctor sounds equally as horrifying as going back to the band-aid-give-me-whatever-I-ask-for doctor that I used to have. I just can’t, but yet I have to….regardless, body? for my part in this debacle – I’m sorry, but holy crap-could you please turn down the cacophony of ouchie?  

Not Namaste

So, I went on a date night during the full moon last week. It was pretty spiffy, paid $20 each, got a t-shirt and a bouncy off-road jeep ride to a tall plateau with an amazing view of the island. Being an industrious sort, I brought Cards Against Humanity and a first aid kit. Yay, didn’t need the first aid kit and yay! did play CAH and met some lovely (horrible) people. I socialized and chatted and acted somewhat like a normal person; whatever that may mean.
While up on that hill I ran into someone I used to do. Actually, he was Internet installer guy from many moons ago. We shared a big ole’ hug and cheek smooches and confirmed we are both doing okay. [people, take note, that is, imho, the only acceptable way to great anyone who has seen you orgasm. If you act all awkward and weird, you’re acting weird and everyone can tell how awkward you are acting so knock it off]. I introduced him to the boyfriend and indicated using that tricksy human body language that although it was great to see him, I’m still super happy with boyfriend and am doing good and he should TOTALLY keep flirting with the chick in the hat cause she is adorable. Now, Internet Installer Guy (IIG), he and I were never meant to be in a relationship together and we both knew it and were great at being friends, but we always had a connection that I could never quite put into words until now, “the pain in me recognizes the pain in you”. I’m sure you’ve heard, either in Yoga or from random hippies the term “Namaste” which is said to mean, “the light/good in me recognizes the light/good in you”. Well, I googled my version and couldn’t find a single word that met my definition–but dang it, that’s what our “connection” is based on. At various painful times in our respective lives, we comforted each other and a friendship grew from that and I think that is pretty damn cool.
I don’t have anything else exciting to share about my date night, it was fun to get out and do something different, the atmosphere was great and the view was damn magical. Oh yeah, I totally got some nooky the next day (Wooh!).

Today’s Adventure

Today’s Random Adventure: So, following my morning doctor’s appointment (hey, insulin refills are a thing!) and getting no horrible news about Herbert (sick doggie) I decided to grab subway before heading into work (no, this is not about my sandwich). On my way out I spied a little older lady sitting in her car with the hood up. ¬†Seeing her grumpy/flummoxed expression I couldn’t just leave her there so I asked, “is everything okay, ma’am?”. ¬†Unsurprisingly, her vehicle wouldn’t start. I listened to the whirr-click as she tried to start it and went into the back for the jumper cables. Then after realizing the cars were about 6 inches too far apart for them to reach (dammit) I moved the jimmy closer. I hooked up the jumper cables, gave it a couple minutes, then she tried to start it again….whrrr-click.

“hrmph” I said, ever so eloquently – then tested cables to see if they sparked…nope, no sparky, “hrrrrrrrrmph”.

Called boyfriend to confirm he hadn’t done something weird to the battery and/or cables and he said, “yup, I tried the cables last week and they didn’t work.” Continuing my streak of eloquence I replied, “hrmph”.

At this point, Little Older Lady decided to walk to gas station next door to see if they had jumper cables to buy or to use….fyi – no. they don’t. that would be silly.

Thankfully, by the time she had gotten back,¬†I had thought it through and while mumbling very important electrical words along the lines of, “mmm ¬†hrmph mumble complete circuit mmmm hrmph insulation hrmph” I used my handy pocket knife that I keep in my (often handier) insulin/med pouch to strip the insulation on the bad negative sides of the cables, reconnect them to the other side of the clamp, and use Bashkins (the teeny tiny sledgehammer that has lived in the car since the fuel pump started going out (now replaced) and we had to bang on the fuel tank to get the fuel pump to get started – shut up. I love the jimmy – it runs!) to bend the connectors to fit. Then I reconnected and got the tiny little old lady’s car started. After it was all over we exchanged names (hers: Barbara) and she was very thankful. It felt nice to do something good¬†for someone as well as to use some basic electrical knowledge to MacGyver some jumper cables.

Aside: Her car, I would like to point out, *is* rarely driven but she starts it once per day and only drives it when she has to go put fuel in it. I checked her oil and he other fluids were all at correct levels. The engine looked amazing. I am only saying this because I thought that the little old lady car that is perfectly well maintained was just a used car unicorn myth! today, today I saw that unicorn!


Okay, where’s my (damn) tricorder?

AAAAAAAAGH! Okay, let me start out by saying I am not a doctor. I have never played a doctor on tv. In this lifetime, I have absolutely no desire to ever become a doctor.

that doesn’t mean I don’t find medical crap fascinating.

When I was about 30ish I went through moderate medical diagnostic hell trying to figure out what was wrong with my head (shut up, not in the crazy way) because I repeatedly felt like I a nasty sinus infection. Over the course of a year it was determined I had been having migraines which was then found to be triggered by a dying tooth. That damn tooth was an asshole. Once the asshole tooth had been vanquished, no more migraines.

(*sigh* until lately. Yes, I believe I currently have a new tooth vying for biggest asshole tooth title. But that isn’t what this is about because Shut Up! My bottom right side of my teeth are fucking¬†FINE and I will deal with it eventually *sigh* Adulting is fucking hard.)

Anyway, all of that lead in was to tell you the following: my work skype account had a weird advertisement on the top of it for the past few days:

migraine what

Finally, today I couldn’t fight the curiosity (what the hell is a security transdermal patch?, zombie security?, aaaaah, I must know) and I clicked.

And, I should have known – I searched for migraine symptoms last week and now I’m a target for migraine med ads. *sigh* But, being a medical crap nerd, I kept reading. Hmmmm, a transdermal system? kinda cool, so I read the instructions…thigh or arm, okay….make sure white thing is stuck to sticker thing before sticking it on….yep, makes sense. ¬†wait a second? why the fuck are there batteries…? a button? a light? what in the star trekkedy hell is this? ¬†at first I thought – oh, okay, you wear this every day and then push the button when you have a migraine? nope, it only goes on for four hours.

So, I have no clue why a transdermal patch needs batteries and a button, but by golly they got me to look at it so it may be just pure marketing genius combined with some form of ionization of the meds? not quite sure, but it’s pretty fancy.

I have no idea if this stuff works, hopefully I will never ever have to use it. But I do like buttons with lights so if we could work on making that happen with some of my regular meds, that would be cool! thanks!


Dear Schmoopypants, you’ve gone too far.

Dearest Lovemuffin,
I’m sorry to inform you that you have defiled our love, broken my trust, and made me question if I ever really knew you at all!
How could you!?!
Was it tastier and more exciting because you *knew* it was so wrong?
Did you at least heat them up on a plate like they deserved? Or did you eat my chinese food leftovers cold right out of the container?
Delicious leftover orange beef and crab rangoon…I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye. 
Maybe with time and counseling we can rebuild the trust between us.