If you're eating then you have to poo, can you return to eating afterwords?



Look,my fabulous illustration makes me look like the hunchback of Porcelonia!


I'm sure all of you have had it happen to you at least once in your lifetime. There you are...sitting at the table enjoying your meal when suddenly your gut clenches and you know you will be unable to put off going to the bathroom before you finish your meal. What do you do? Do you do you doodie (get it? I made a funny!) then resume eating? In theory It seems sort of gross.

I know what goes in must go out but I personally don't want to see the natural process in action while I'm trying to enjoy my risotto and fish. That's just wrong in my book.

When my kidlets were itty bitty and I was working and going to school all at the same time and was super duper busy, I will admit to cramming breakfast down my gullet once while sitting on the porcelain throne, but that was a one-time deal. It grossed me out too much. I decided that I'd rather eat and drive and possibly crash rather than eat and poo all at the same time. I know horses and cows can do it but not moi.

So I have to admit...I was eating lunch and my gut did clench and get the best of me. I had to close my lunch and run for the restroom. And what did I do when I finished? I put what was left of lunch in the refrigerator and went back to work. I couldn't resume eating. Aren't you glad I shared that with you? Now, I want to know if this has happened to any of you. Come on. Tell the truth. 'Fess up.

Chitty chitty - CRAP they're CHIGGERS!

Dad gummit! It's already chigger season again at our little house in the woods. I've got bites in places I don't want to mention and I didn't even go traipsing around in the woods! All I did is walk the perimeter and strolled in the yard taking pictures.

Those little creeps managed to embed themselves everywhere the straps of my "over the shoulder boulder holders" were and now I walk around wiggling like I've got..............chiggers. Luckily they stayed away from my lady bits for the most part. Although, I do have a few near my hiney so I'm sure I look like I've got a horrible wedgie because I'm always tugging back there to try and scratch that dang itch.

Let me just say for the record that I absolutely hate chiggers. I hate chiggers worse than mosquitos and I hate them pretty damn bad. I hate chiggers so much, if I were to meet one walking down the alley, I'd attack it and beat it up and leave it bleeding and gasping for air. And I'd probably pour salt on it's wounds. And laugh. Then spit on it. And call it a mean old sissy baby. Buy I wouldn't kill it because I'd want it to suffer just like I'm suffering right now.

I freakin' HATE chiggers! Dammit!

The Chicken Truck

I spent today communing with nature. I took lots of pictures of butterflies and bumblebees, flowers and weeds, twigs and trees and the whole thing made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The day was beautiful and sunny without a cloud in the sky. It was a perfect day. I saw a lovely sunset on my way home and all in all, I was feeling pretty happy. Then I saw them.

I noticed some fluffy white things floating in the air as I went down the freeway. Then I noticed more fluffy white things. Then I noticed a lot of fluffy white things. The next thing I noticed was an 18 wheeler and the fluffy white things were coming from it.

It was a truck full of chickens and the fluffy things were feathers. I've seen chicken trucks before and I've see the cloud of feathers  that follow them but this one was different. First of all, the cages were open to the wind. There wasn't any protection from 70 miles per hour of wind and noise blasting those poor birds. The other thing was that the chickens appeared to be crammed in the cages so tightly they couldn't even move.

These chickens have room to move. The chickens I saw did not.

You know how chickens have little red comb thingies on their heads? Well these birds' little comb thingies weren't very red. They were sort of pale pink and dull looking. I guess if I had a red comb thingy and I had to ride in an open truck at 70 MPH, crammed in so tightly I couldn't move for God knows how long, mine would be pale, too.

I didn't get a long look at the birds. I sort of couldn't bear to look at them. It made me so sad. I don't know if a chicken can look sad or not, but I swear that these birds looked miserable. I'm a softy when it comes to critters and I hate, hate, hate to see them being hauled to what is probably a fate not of their choosing.

I tried to put on some happy music to take my mind off the poor birds because I new there was absolutely nothing I could do for them but the music didn't help. I turned off the radio and rode the rest of the way home in silence. It's been 3 hours since I saw those birds and I'm still depressed. I wish I knew that they were being taken to some farm way out somewhere nice where they could frolic and scratch the dirt and live in cushy air conditioned coops for the rest of their days. But I know it's not true.

I might have to become a vegetarian. And a chicken rescuer. If you see a chicken walking around, pick it up and give it a hug. I'm going to.

Please and thank you

Being a southern girl, it's automatic for me to say "please" and "thank you" and hold doors open for people who are behind me. I feel good when I can help a Mom who is struggling through a doorway with kids in tow while trying to momhandle an unruly stroller. I've been there. She shouldn't have to struggle. I've got 2 good hands - why not help her? Basically, my Mama taught me good manners.

These days it seems that lots of people didn't learn manners. I've seen women AND men let doors close on people behind them, drivers cut other drivers off, people accepting things without saying thank you and more. I was out tripping the lights fantastic recently and was asked to buy a drink for a dude who was busy playing music for the audience. I did so gladly but when I delivered the drink, the dude I got it for took it, turned around and walked off without saying a word to me. Hey didn't even nod, wink, smile...nothing. You can bet your buttons I won't be buying him anything ever again!

What is it these days? Does everyone think they're entitled to everything and that they don't need to use manners? WRONG!!! Even if I'm paying someone to do something for me, I still thank them as if they're doing me a great service. I treat people who do what might be considered the lowliest job the same as I would the people that do what might be considered the world's most important job. I'm constantly telling my kidlets that everyone puts their pants on one leg at a time. We're all the same. We just have different jobs.


The place where I work is really big into acknowledging good deeds. We are encouraged to nominate others for jobs done well or for good teamwork. It's a great idea in theory but some people forget to thank the people around them who support them. They take them for granted. The people who forget? I think they should be blessed with doing the shittiest job in the building for a few days to remind them how good they have it. Maybe then, they'll remember.


I'm glad to be a proper southern belle. OK, that's sugaring it up just a bit too much. I think a few of my teeth just fell out. How about this: I'm glad my mama taught me some manners to live by and that I treat people the way they should be treated. I hope that the schmucks out there who are rude and inconsiderate step on a nail and need help and are treated by a kindly nurse who teaches them a few manners along the way or else she'll jam the needle full of antibiotics a little harder than necessary in their hineys. If they're still rude she can sweetly say 'frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.'

Heads UP!!!

Meet some of my leeeetle freends. Aren't they creepy?

When I talk to them, most of them give me blank stares.

Some of them use Head and Shoulders shampoo even though they don't have shoulders. (Geez, I crack myself up)

(The one on the far right looks like Boy George.)

I have more of these friends but they're "vacationing" in the attic in my Halloween supply box right now. I love to pull these beauties out on occasion and place them randomly throughout the house just for fun. Sometimes one of them will be strategically placed in the crisper drawer in the refrigerator. Another might wind up in the clothes washer, waiting for an unsuspecting teenager to do laundry and find her. Right now, there's on in my kidlet's bed. When she comes back to my house from her Dad's, she'll have someone to cuddle up to when she goes to bed. ha ha Yes, I'm part devil.

I've tried to pull one over on Manchild, too. I put a head in his duffel bag that he uses when he travels from our city house to the little house in the woods. I'm sure it startled him but he just casually tossed it on the floor and kept going about his business. I think I might put one of the heads in the mailbox to see what the mailman does. Or maybe the recycling dudes. Or better yet...put one in the drawer that the drive through banker uses! Yeah, that would be GREATNESS!

I carried one in to work one day and as I was passing the security guard, I told him that a person pulled in front of me as I was driving so I cut her off then I held up the head. He liked that one. I put that same head on the top edge of my cube and gave her a sombrero to wear. Hey, I work at a cosmetics company! I have to make her fashionable!

This head has shoulders but the hair sort of resembles some of the others. I wonder where I can hide it?

Pretty girl/guy syndrome

I have a medical condition called "pretty girl syndrome". It's a real term. You can Google-izer it. Go ahead - look it up. OK, it's not a real illness but it sure feels like one. It works like this...I get all doodied up to go out on the town and I'm looking about as good as I can with what I have. I get to wherever it is I'm going, and I see friends (or even people I don't know) and there are pretty girls around. I'm instantly transformed into a blithering idiot. I feel dumpy frumpy and I can't speak to make any kind of sense. I start sounding like a donkey braying and I'm probably spitting by accident on everyone within 25 feet of me.

It's terrible, people! I'm sure that the more nervous I get, the louder I get and the stupider I get and the more I spit on people, and the more the spittle congregates in the corners of my mouth which messes up my Red Salsa lipstick and causes it to stick to my teeth which makes me look even more foolish. Oh yeah, and I fidget.

The scene gets even worse if I'm dealing with a guy that I think is good looking. There's a man that comes into my office and sometimes I have to interact with him. In my opinion, he's so dang pretty, I can hardly utter a word. I can literally feel my face turn red and get hot. I sweat and my heart beats really fast. The first 9 or 10 times I saw him, I hid from him and just looked at him from afar. He would always make a point of telling me hello as he walked past my cube and I couldn't even make eye contact and respond! Eventually I had to talk to him and it was so hard for me to do. I was afraid I'd accidentally spit on him or maybe throw up on his shoe because I was so nervous or that my overzealous sweat glands would explode and my pit stains would just transfer all the way down my sides down to the puddle that I was sure was forming on the floor.

My coworker assured me that he was really down to earth and sweet but all I saw was a beautiful hunk of eye candy that I secretly worship every time he enters the building. I'm not even sure if I made any sense when we spoke. I tried to get my point across and get away as fast as I could, before I hurt him. Or threw up. Or asked him to marry me and father 75 of my children.

It's a terrible curse to have pretty girl/guy syndrome because I know that the pretty girl or guy are normal people just like me. I know I don't look like Attila the Hun but when I get around the pretties, I feel like I do. And when I feel that way I start making embarrasing mistakes which exacerbates all of the other mistakes I make. I've tried picturing them in their underwear which didn't work. I've tried picturing them naked which backfired horribly in the case of the hunky guy at my office. I've tried pretending I was the most desirable woman in the world which didn't work. I'm out of ideas. Do you have any?

Am I Ms. Jekyll or Ms. Hyde today?

Lately I haven't been feeling like myself. I'm usually fairly happy go lucky, quick with a joke or a prank and I hate for people to see me if I don't have a smile on my face.

But I think something is going on up in my pea-brain and I don't like it one little bit.  Either I have a brain tumor, or my meds are waaaayyyyy off. I vote for the meds. I got off of one kind of med because I had gained 50 pounds and turned into a slug before I realized something was amiss. I spent a week & 1/2 weaning off of that horrible stuff and was really excited to begin my new wonder drug because my energy went through the roof (mania) and I felt great. I was even more excited when my appetite went kaput for 4 whole days. Maybe that 50 pounds was going to start melting away because I was feeling and looking like a dang heifer.

Last week I started noticing that instead of looking like the girl above, I was looking and acting like this girl...

Puh-leeeeze! People couldn't ask me how my day was going without me bursting into tears. I spent one day hiding at my desk, crying at the drop of a hat. As soon as I'd get the snot wiped off of everything and re-paint my face I'd burst into tears all over again.

Slowly the tears receded and were replaced by fury. I'm talking about seething, want to kill and maim fury. I had so many visions of repeatedly punching people in the face while I was talking to them I was starting to scare myself!

I'm not joking when I say that I wanted to hurt people. I really, really wanted to beat the ever lovin' crap outta someone. In my defense, an abnormaly large amount of stupid people crossed my path. And I had a couple of people do some shitty things so I had good reason to want to knock them around a bit. But not to the extent I was feeling. I had to remove myself from the general public for fear that I'd go off on everyone and cuss them out. Or throw a stapler at their head. Or sit in the middle of the floor and scream and kick my feet and shred paper and spit and have myself a good old temper tantrum.

Now I'm sort of in the middle. I might want to cry, I might get really mad, really fast or I just feel numb. Sorta dead inside. I think I need to go visit the shrinky dink again. Surely I can't be coming off those other meds, can I? It's been 2 weeks since I've been off of them. All I know is I sure hope I don't kill anyone. And I hope I stay married 'till I get this mess figured out.

Company is coming!!!

I am sort of a last minute kind of girl when it comes to company coming over. I have good intentions of being prepared so I can relax on the day of company but it never works out that way.

Every year I host Easter at my house for the whole fam-damily. It stands to reason that since everyone coming over is family, I shouldn't have to worry if there's a couple of hundred dust bunnies. Because everyone has to love me warts and all. But I do worry.

I've known Easter is coming all year long and I've known for the last 3 weeks that I need to get my house cleaned and my yard in order so why haven't I done that?
Well, here's one reason:

I'll do anything BUT what I need to do in order to get out of doing what I HAVE to do. It's like an illness. An aversion to what obviously needs to be done.
So of course, I felt the need to get 47 weeks ahead on my blog posts. It was IMPERATIVE that I write enough stories to get me through the end of time. Because my arthritis might flare up and get so bad my fingers might freeze up and fall off. And I had to re-do my home office which involved texturing a wall (I know, you're sick of hearing about it), and painting it then cleaning the entire HVAC system because I got texture dust everywhere. And I need to re-landscape my lawn because spring is here and everything is turning green and I need to make it look nice. And I realized that my washing machine keeps getting off kilter because the little legs that keep it level are unscrewing themselves and one of them actually unscrewed itself so much, it fell completely out. So now I get to fight it and pull the machine all the way out and climb over it so I can get to the back of it and somehow lift it up enough to get the screwy-thingie back in the machine. OK, you got more than one reason - you got bonus reasons, too.

In my frantic quest to put the house in order I realized that I had some helpers. That's probably because I started yelling at anyone who came within 50 feet of me. My kidlets got reminded of what ungrateful swines they were and how they take advantage of my easygoing nature and how they never, ever help me until I'm ready to explode.  Now my youngest one is being pretty helpful. The cats are playing a role, too. Schwayze is "helping" me by reminding me that he's there for me.

Ruby is frightened and is clearing out of my way.

Pork Chop is showing off her hurling skills so that I can develop my arm muscles to mop.

 Don't I have great pets? As for Manchild helping out...well he picks the strangest things to help out with. Like changing a lightbulb. WTF??? I can change a lightbulb! How about vacuuming or something useful? I usually get so frustrated, I'd just rather him leave and come back when it's time for everyone to show up. I'm sure I'll get everything finished just in the nick of time. The house and yard will look great and no one will ever know what a disaster the place was, just hours before they arrived.

Then I can relax for another year or until company comes over and the whole frenzy starts all over again. If any of you come over unexpectedly be prepared to see dust bunnies. That's just how it's going to be people.

The difference between me and the home makeover sissies

Here's a little breakdown showing me the differences between my mad home makeover skills and those of the home makeover sissies you see on TV.

The Namby Pambies VS   Me

Clears the entire room before work. Who wants to move furniture twice??? (Dummies)

Puts down protective floor covering. I’ve got a strip of tarp about 2 feet wide. That’ll do!

Wears mask to protect lungs from potentially harmful dust and asbestos and stuff like that. A mask? Are you for real? My face will sweat! (cough cough)

Has all the necessary tools at the ready. Why drag out the whole toolbox when I'm trying to save my strength? 

Has a work plan prepared ahead of time. I’ve got an idea. That’s good enough.

Has an annoyingly sunny disposition and never gets bummed. I start out happy. Sometimes I might get a little discouraged and cry for a while but I always get back to work. It might be a week or 3 but I get back to it.

Never gets hungry or thirsty. Hey, I think it’s important to have beer(s) while you’re working to keep the creativity flowing strong!

Has 42 production assistants. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! If I can't lift it or reach it, it isn't getting done because it's just sweet little ol' me doing the job.

Anyone who has ever read my blog knows that I am a little... challenged in the home improvement department. I have the heart and desire of a lion. And the muscles, stamina and attention span of a gnat. My latest home improvement project - the removal of wallpaper and texturing of said wall has lasted for more months than I care to admit (6). BUT!!! (cue the hallelujah song by Jeff Buckley) the wall is textured. Yes, you heard me right, it's done.

Luckily, I narrowly avoided the high cost of a divorce lawyer (because I almost kicked Mr. Man to the curb...forever) because the project finally got to the point where I can slap on paint and call 'er done. The prep work passed his demanding expectations, it was done correctly and you know what? The "new" wall looks like all of the other walls! It's a perfect match! It looks good!

And you know what else? I've watched those home improvement shows and have seen the wonders that they work on a room but I've also seen the whoopsies that the producers don't want John Q. Public to see. Stuff like paint runs or things that don't match up exactly. And you know what? MY wall is perfect. No paint runs, no messy matchups, it's perfect. I didn't have assistants and I DID make 286,321 trips to the garage to get things I needed. I wasn't always cheerful and I wanted to do things half assed about a zillion times but I employed Mr. Wonderful to make sure I got 'er done right.
And you know what? I DID! Done! Finished! Kaput! Now, what's next?

I flunked the blood test

Being a good citizen and all, I volunteered to donate blood at our company's blood drive. I made sure to drink plenty of beer the night before to sterilize my cells and I made sure to have a Breakfast Jack with hash browns and 4 cups of coffee for breakfast so I'd be all full and have plenty of pressure in me to push that blood on out of my veins. I was stoked to do good for my fellow man!

I'm so special, I have a medical port in my chest which makes taking IV meds much easier and can also be used for drawing blood. The unfortunate thing is that lots of medical personnel won't touch it with a 10 foot pole. Or needle as the case may be. I guess there's some additional training that goes along with accessing it, or some yay-hoo filed a lawsuit because a nurse popped their fake boobie or something. All I know is not many people will use it to draw blood.

I tried to bribe the blood donor vampire by offering two pints of blood for the price of one if he'd poke me in my port versus trying to find a vein but all I got was the following look:

Don't those guys have a sense of humor????? Guess not. I didn't have to worry about it anyway because when they did the little finger prick to see if I had any blood in me, they told me I didn't have enough iron in the blood I have so they sent me packing. The offered to let me have a free t-shirt and the obligitory cookies and juice but I didn't feel like I had earned all of that loot so I declined.

I was really let down that I didn't get to be of help. I hate being stuck in the arm but I do like knowing that I can do something that will be of help to someone I don't even know. I was told that I could eat meat for dinner and avoid the 4 cups of coffee in the morning and try again which is exactly what I'm going to do. Hopefully, I'll have enough iron. If not, you'll be able to hear me crying 2 states away.

Dang stinkin extension cord

Being a fix-it, do it myself kind of girl I have a super cool extension cord. It's super cool because it's hot pink. It's really chick-like,  just like moi.

It's really long so I can go all over my yard. I've actually plugged it in at my back patio, climbed up on the roof and walked over the roof with it and used it on the other side of my house. It's not really 2.6 miles long like the package says but it's long enough. It doesn't weigh 276 pounds either but it feels that way. You may or may not be able to see but the package says "minimal tangle". That's actually what it said on the package when I bought the extension cord. You know what? They lied.








After about two uses do you know what the cord looked like? I bet you can guess.

And since the dang thing weighs about a zillion pounds it's really hard for me to wrap it up nicely. I usually end up stretching it out along the length of the sidewalk (through the whole neighborhood) and slowly rolling it up, twisting and turning the bundle as I go so it won't twist. Then, I have to hoist it up to hang on the wall. I can usually hear my vertabra snapping as I do this.

I'd get a shorter cord but then I wouldn't be able to walk all the way over the house without having to connect another cord. And I'm not sure if I could find another pink one anyway. And what would I have to moan and groan about then?