This girl needs more Jesus!

So the FedEx guy comes to my door, knocks...and from my vantage point behind the blinds, I can see that he STAYS ON MY PORCH! 

The following is the conversation that I had...with myself....in my head!

Me: Why isn't he leaving

Me:  I don't know!  He usually drops the box and books it back to the truck

Me:  Should we answer?

Me:  Well, he's still there.

Me:  Should we put a bra on?

Me:  Look at what we're wearing!  Do you really think adding the uni-boober* is gonna help? Besides, its not like its the UPS guy!

Me:  You've got a point...

So we opened the door and the FedEx guy hands me a package and leaves.  No signature.  "Here ya go!" and off he went.

Me and Me (at the same time):  That was weird.

So we took the package to the kitchen and opened it to reveal this:

 

Before you ask, no.  I did not purchase this.  I called my family and they all deny the gift.  There was no information in the box, other than a paper that had my name on it.  

Its a puzzle....who sent it?  Who thought, "This girl needs more Jesus!" and went to Amazon.com to purchase this book for me?

*uni-boober-  a sports bra that, when worn, gives the boobage area the illusion of being ONE long, horizontal boob.

Wait...what?!?! (with gusto, I might add...)

I forget shit all the time.  The worst is usually when I am talking to another person and I start talking, but get inturrupted by someone elses story.  By the time they are done, I cannot-for the life of me-remember what I was gonna say. 

Things I forget on a regular basis:

• Phone calls I need to make
• To take my purse to the store (which, by the way, I'm TICKLED that I always remember it....after checking out )
• Dinner.  (As a work-from-home mother, one of my duties (hee!) is having dinner ready when THE HUBS gets home.)

I used to forget where I put my car keys, but I have found that if I say OUT LOUD where I'm putting them, I have a better chance of remembering where they are when I need them.  If you ever see me in the Walmart parking lot, there is a pretty good chance that you will hear me say, "Keys are in my purse." 

Last night I got up from the dinner table (with gusto, I might add...) and walked about 3 steps before realizing that I couldn't remember what I was going to do. 

Today I woke up around 5am in a panic thinking that it was Friday and that i had forgotten to do something yesterday (Thursday)...but it is *really* Thursday, and I have a sinking feeling like I'm forgetting something important today. 

Open letter to my body

Dear Face…you do not need to have food shoved in you 24/7…you never used to and you survived then…you will survive now. Stop it!

Dear Tongue and Mouth…Stop watering at the mere MENTION of food. Seriously. Stop. You’re making the rest of us look “special” (and not the “special” kind of “special” that my mom used to say that I was!)

Dear Stomach…I swear to God that I will rip you out with my bare hands the next time you so much as purr. No purring, no growling, no bloop-bloop noises…NOTHING! They say your stomach shrinks when you don’t eat so much, well, stomach-my friend…you have surely grown in the past 5 months. I suspect you’re the size of a 2 year old since you require so much more food in order to shut you the hell up. Stop it.

Dear Abs…I know and I’m sorry. The search and rescue has ended. I’m sorry. We cannot find you. You were there the last time I looked and then one day you were gone. It’s kind of like a “Deep End Of The Ocean” thing. Now I know how Michelle Pfeiffer felt. So sad. (Do I smell popcorn?)

Dear Boobs...Way to just HANG there. Come on! Up and at 'em! I'm so disappointed in you girls!

Dear Upper-Arms…I GET IT! I saw you waving the FIRST time!!! You don’t need to beat a dead horse. I get it! You can flap back and forth all you want…I’m not looking anymore and quite frankly, I refuse to show you off anymore. I’m going to always hide you under long sleeves. How do you like THEM apples?

Dear Feet…What the hell? Why have you turned on me? Is it because of the extra pressure? (No pun intended!) How do you think I feel? Is that any reason for you to suddenly and without warning start going all sweaty-all the time? And how do you manage keeping them COLD???? Cold AND sweaty…nice. NOT! Stop it!

Dear Eyes…Can you just wait 5 minutes? I promise I am going to go to the eye doctor VERY soon. And what the crap is up with those lines around you...are you squinting too much or are tiny little face elves digging trenches around you? Either way, make it stop!

Dear Liver…Just suck it up for a bit longer.


To the rest of my body,

I know you know that I am going through a lot right now seeing as how you’ve gone through all of it with me. That being said, I don’t understand why you have chosen this time to start going to hell on me. You just wait. As soon as my brain decides to side with me, I am kicking your ass! (By the way...Dear Ass…just because the chair is 20 inches wide does NOT mean you have to be! I don’t know where you have gotten your info, but it’s wrong!) I am going to piss off each and every one of you as soon as I get back in gear. Let this letter serve as your only warning because I won’t be telling you again. Just when you think we are going to McDonalds…we might be going to the “Y” and THEN you’ll know that th

Publish Post

e Sheriff is back in town. I will do it. So suck it.

WTF, FB?

This popped up on the sidebar of facebook:

My 1st question, of course, was: "Whatthefuck?" 

My 2nd question was "What the hell did I post on my wall that made Facebook want to put a giant green ovary on my page!

Then I did what "they" wanted me to do....I clicked on the link.  (I had to know!)

It's a freaking CAT BED!!!!!

I'm not sure how I feel about this.  First of all...that is an  ugly-ass cat!  Secondly, Who was the advertising GENIUS that couldn't find a better cat at the shelter? 

I'm intrigued, nonetheless.  I kinda want one.  

I would put this guy in it:

I'm too sexy for my fur!

I will call this one, "The Christmas Wish List"

So there is really only one thing that I want this year for Christmas (and for my stupid too-close-to Christmas Birthday)...I just want gift certificates for a spalon near me.  (No, that is not a typo.  Its not just a spa and not just a salon...it is a spalon!)  

If I don't get enough gift certificates, I will cash them in for a massage...if I get enough, I think I will order from the "FDA-Approved, Doctor Administered Treatment" menu. <wink>

Don't judge me!  I've had a lot of shitty shit happen to me in the last couple-a years and its starting to catch up to me...on my face.  Specifically my eyes.  All of a sudden and without any warning, when I smile, there are these lines that go all the way to my navel!  Last week, I went to the eye doctor and they had the gall to tell me that I need bifocals!  (I promptly told Doctor know-it-all to go fuck herself, thankyouverymuch!)

Anyway...where was I going with this.....

Oh yeah...THE HUSBAND is a gift card hypocrite!  He HATES to give them as gifts, but enjoys getting them!  When I ask for one, he gets all kinds of pissy with me.  This year he is making me come up with a Christmas list.

Don't ask me to do something that you know I don't want to do.  It almost always comes out like this:

Shutthefuckup!  Its only $5.44!  Get me two!

If I can spot your fart, you're totally doing it wrong

Would you believe that this only got 4 1/2 stars?

So much History that they don't teach us in school!

"The Art of the Fart....or How the Fart Fetish Began"

 Again, I really think that if I can SPOT your fart, that you just might be doing it wrong!

The moral of this story is this:  Farts are funny, dammit!  And don't make me put shit on a list when I know what I want!

I showed THE HUSBAND my list and he was not amused.

THE HUSBAND:  You're not really giving this list to anyone, right?

Me:  (all kinds of innocent...)  You told me to make a list!

HUBS:  You really want this stuff?  Farts?  What are you, a 12 year old boy?

Me:  Hey, you told me to make a list!  I made a list!

HUBS:  You're giving this list to my parents!  They are going to think you want this stuff!

We have now decided that I will just recommend the spalon gift card for anyone who wants to get me anything....

Gee...why didn't I think of that?

Interested in Fart Gifts? You can find them here!  Enjoy! 

s I'm curious if this will FINALLY answer the question we've been dying to know

Some assembly required?

I dont know what this is, and I don't know if I wanna put that much effort in my wine...heck, I don't even like to have to uncork...but it fascinates me

On a related note...can I get a refill?

Yo Mama is SOOOOOOOOOOOO Fat!

NOTE:  This was a blog I did 152 years ago when myspace was cool, I am reposting it here-NOT for your amusement, but for mine!  :)

All right. I've bitched and moaned about it for too long. I've gotten fat. (did too!) I'm sure it has NOTHING to do with the fact that I sit on the couch, my lap pink with heat from the laptop & drinking my SLUSHY PUNCH! Nah, sitting on the computer and drinking alcohol…totally unrelated. (is too!)

My mother in law took me shopping for a dress to wear to the brother in laws wedding. I shopped with mother in law and future sister in law. I literally tried on more dresses to GO to the wedding than wedding dresses the future sister in law tried on! I have gained approximately 40 lbs in the last 2 years-and most of that 40 lbs, I gained in a very short period. (I'm wondering if the weight gain is contributing to my fibromyalgia or vise-versa. )

I started picking out dresses and it didn't take long for me to get depressed. We're grabbing dresses in sizes that were bigger than I wore just 2 years ago. THEN, to make matters worse, I am posing for my audience and they are saying things like "Not that dress….we can see your rolls" and "Not that dress…you look like a sausage." But the worst thing they said…and they said it over and over and over yesterday- "I like that dress, lets try it in a bigger size!" WHAT?!?!?! Excuse me! I AM in a bigger size! FOUR sizes bigger to be exact-I do NOT want to go FIVE sizes bigger.

Anyway, I was in the dressing room at a store in Woodfield Mall, and I am trying on dress after dress after dress. I'm wearing only a thong to try on dresses. Since each dress required different undergarments, I decided to go without a bra. We all do it. We girls do what we gotta do to A) get the dress to look as good as you can with price tags, pins and anti-theft buttons or tags hanging off of necklines or armpits and B) save time….when you are trying on lots of outfits, you want to streamline things to make the most of your time. So-I tried on this dress-well, maybe not-so-much "TRIED ON" as I was TRYING to get into the darn thing. I was getting irritated and hot and I was already depressed so this was really becoming a challenge. So I gave up. "F*ck This!" I muttered under my breath. I didn't pick out this dress so I was NOT going to bust my ass to get into this fugging thing. Then it happened. The thing that devastated me beyond belief. The thing that is gave me nightmares last night. The thing that really smacked me in the face and made me realize that I'm not going to get thinner and healthy by just wishing it to be. 

The thing that happened was this:

I got stuck...

In the dress... 

I GOT FREAKING STUCK IN THE M'ER EFFING DRESS AND COULD NOT GET OUT! 

It was over my head and my arms were all twisted-one was behind my head and the other was where my OTHER arm should have been. Now, I was already hot and irritated so you can only imagine how THIS was working out for me. Had this not been the most expensive dress I had tried on all day, I would have just ripped the fugger and moved on, but it cost more than MY wedding dress so I did the only thing I could do.

I cried for help.

So my mother in law and future sister in law came in to the dressing room and saw me there-my ass hanging out for all to see, black and wine colored dress twisted and tangled over my head, my boobs flopping there (which by the way-my "boobs" have gotten HUGE with the weight gain…in a cute top-they are fun to show off….but just hanging there like that-they are officially in the "jugs" category and neither one of the ladies in there with me have "boobs" let alone "jugs" so I kept getting shit all day for trying on dresses that showed of the "girls"…I CAN'T HELP IT!)

I was humiliated. I grabbed a dress that they approved of and announced that I was done being their Barbie Doll. We picked out accessories and called it a day.

I want to add that they never knew how irritated and humiliated I got during the day. I didn't want to appear ungrateful to my mother in law who was footing the bill for this shopping spree and I did not want to come off as some Diva throwing a temper tantrum because things weren't going my way.

I was not going to mention this to anyone, but I spill everything here so I figured "why not"

I'm going to start exercising more, cut back on my soda (I drink way too much Pepsi) and cut back on my SLUSHY PUNCH (That one is going to be hard!) I'm going to do it. I'm going to lose 20lbs for the wedding (in March) and I AM going to lose the entire 40lbs by summertime.
I will do it!