tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24023139159693309972024-03-12T20:27:58.914-07:00Mama FidelJenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.comBlogger385125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-88949625574867823402009-08-05T12:49:00.000-07:002009-08-05T13:19:22.645-07:00Way Off TargetEvery now and then I get an invitation to renew my subscription to Runner's World magazine, which is pretty funny because I don't run. I have subscribed to a ton of magazines over the years until I Zoloft-ed the <span style="font-style:italic;">need</span> for magazines out of me, so I can sort of understand how a mix-up like someone thinking I might be interested to Runner's World would happen.<br /><br />Here recently, I've gotten such strange things in the mail that I'm beginning to be a little concerned about identity theft or having some sort of random amnesia. Just this week I got a postcard thanking me for attending service at a church 30 miles from my house. Yesterday's offering from the mailbox led to a little misunderstanding with Fidel. He walked into the foyer to see what had arrived for him and discovered a baby formula sample from Enfamil. He walked back to the kitchen to ask me if there was anything I needed to tell him. I had forgotten about the formula sample so I immediately got a hot flash and wondered what I had bought and neglected to hide in time. He finally let me off the hook and reminded me that there was a container of baby formula in the foyer.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure that somewhere, some pregnant jogger is wondering why marketing companies think she's developed a sudden need for chocolate and cocktail recipes.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-91907020268940367232009-08-01T04:43:00.000-07:002009-08-01T04:57:52.199-07:00Alive and Kicking but Quite AshamedI wish I had the excuse of some grand adventure or amusing misadventure to explain my absence, but the real truth of the matter is that I was wallowing in self pity and not taking the time to be funny. Not that my funny is a gift to the world, but it is a big part of me and I lost it there for a while. Just recently I've been in situations and thought, Gosh, I really need to blog this. My IRL friends don't know about my blog because I have to reserve the right to rag on them anonymously so they couldn't prod me to write in the same way they prodded me to get out of my pajamas at 5 pm or to fix my hair, for chrissakes.<br /><br />I'm sitting here before 8 am, listening to the birds chirp around me. We spent a week at the beach in SC and it was amazing. I grew up on SC beaches and after having lived in Hawaii and vacationing in Mexico and the Bahamas, I always said that I didn't care if I ever saw the brown water of the Atlantic again. I was wrong because as far as I'm concerned at this very moment, there's no beach finer than the one we are leaving today. Our girls had the times of their lives. I feel more normal than I've felt in months.<br /><br />Thanks for the prod, Not So Mom-a-licious!Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-36857627923174237202009-04-10T19:39:00.001-07:002009-04-10T19:48:14.822-07:00Decisions, DecisionsWe had some scary weather tonight in North Georgia! <br /><br />Fidel and the kids are visiting his family this week, so it's just me and the dogs. The dogs and I were parked on the couch tonight watching the local weatherman jizz his pants over the strong thunderstorms in the area, and it looked like I was going to have to retreat to the basement while the house blew down around me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be down there empty handed, so while the winds blew and the clouds spit hail, I debated on taking either wine or chocolate to nourish me until the worst was over. A true alcoholic would have never debated as long as I did between wine and chocolate, so in the heat of the summer when I'm in the months-long vodka fog, I can look back on this and assure myself that I am, in fact, not an alcoholic. Just a fan of vodka, lemons and mint. And so flighty in the brain that I can stand in the kitchen and lose track of my thoughts, even with threatened with certain peril from the sky. Gifted with dropping run-on sentences and fragments in the same, disjointed paragraph. Drugged enough that I don't give a shit.<br /><br />Life is good. And I chose chocolate.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-73388973174555769292009-03-17T13:07:00.000-07:002009-03-17T13:22:09.565-07:00It's The EconomyFirst, I want to apologize for my lack of posting. I know you've heard this before but here I am apologizing again. I just don't feel very funny any more. Life has turned into more than frivolous adventures and my funny took a hike. <br /><br />I imagine that My Funny is on a sunny beach somewhere drinking champagne in the mornings, beer for lunch and martinis for dinner. Meanwhile, I'm back here in the real world scrambling for retail hours and trying to get my husband to fire the innocent laborers who clean his offices to hire me to do the same work for less pay. I can't even drink away the pain of not being able to shop or take vacations because I have to work. I can't show up drunk to sell children's clothing, now can I? No 5-year old needs a blurry eyed woman slurring, "You are a hot bitch" at them as they try on embroidered clothing. By the time I get home, I'm too tired to drink and I have to get up to get the kids off to school early the next morning so I'm just living a cycle of boredom over and over and over again.<br /><br />My hair looks like total shit because the only stylist I liked had a mental breakdown 18 months ago and dropped off the face of the Earth. I can deal with anything as long as my hair is rocking but my mop of birdstraw is far from rocking. Honestly at this point if I had a freak accident involving whirling machine parts and my hair I'd probably look better in the "after" shot.<br /><br />I really feel like I should get myself a long, frumpy denim skirt to rock with some Easy Spirit shoes and seasonal vests and make the most of my new somber self. But I've never given up that easily so I'm going to suck it up and get back to being me.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-155515876472233982009-02-03T11:44:00.000-08:002009-02-03T11:54:22.602-08:00Art Imitating Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWTzihAGfgo2woH4DY1iPwrToEQBojk19eJn4t52evQDzpPTUVq1FyZQqaFkTZCVZ1YQmPppGLNzCL0N1gPIWsnQ8t9VBW5Z45UkF2kN0DoZli_AF1eU4njpPQVY0bYOEi5opUa-pHr0/s1600-h/cityfolk.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 87px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWTzihAGfgo2woH4DY1iPwrToEQBojk19eJn4t52evQDzpPTUVq1FyZQqaFkTZCVZ1YQmPppGLNzCL0N1gPIWsnQ8t9VBW5Z45UkF2kN0DoZli_AF1eU4njpPQVY0bYOEi5opUa-pHr0/s320/cityfolk.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298661171957624498" /></a><br />I have recently gotten hooked on playing Animal Kingdom: City Folk on the Wii. It's fun for me, the kids love watching and playing along by guessing the fish, etc., so we do play. A lot.<br /><br />Today in Wii World, my town's store is closed for renovations so I have a shitload of fish and seashells scattered around the floor of my home, awaiting the store's grand reopening so I can sell it for some bells.<br /><br />I mentioned my addiction to my friend Ashley, and she immediately said, "I need your friend code". I gave it to her but the first thing that popped into my head was, "Don't mind the mess, I haven't gotten around to straightening up yet". Then I looked around my real life house and realized that I'm the same slacker in Wii-land as I am in real life. Hopefully Ashley isn't the same on the Wii as in real life or we will find a bar, stay up all night drinking and laughing, then pop some diet pills the next morning for the energy to start all over again. I've seen us do it.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-38214185486254651542008-12-29T18:16:00.000-08:002008-12-29T18:29:10.913-08:00Hush Your Mouth!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZyLtS1yuYXsstpgq5q1cgk1AzPdkmOFMDJ5L4m85CnAT0w3hXxDCfCnL1x4uV7u4RwVsJ25k4Q2Nmo1GOs_dhonAoiWppxwVgN19QbpudWqhpuQL20DWJVNWB3yr5KFMH5wq1XpEvLvI/s1600-h/chimp.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 111px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZyLtS1yuYXsstpgq5q1cgk1AzPdkmOFMDJ5L4m85CnAT0w3hXxDCfCnL1x4uV7u4RwVsJ25k4Q2Nmo1GOs_dhonAoiWppxwVgN19QbpudWqhpuQL20DWJVNWB3yr5KFMH5wq1XpEvLvI/s320/chimp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285404525518700210" /></a><br />You know how I have my favorite Craigslist loony who writes these detailed descriptions of the most random shit. She posts treasures like this daily:<br /><br /><blockquote>Every new bride knows you gotta have china.<br /><br />For your consideration is this beautiful vintage embossed swirl set made<br />in China, featuring rosebuds among a single bloom, lavender wispy ferns,<br />with green leaves and stems. I believe this is a Moss Rose pattern. A<br />very nice delicate added touch is the gold trim that surrounds the cup and<br />saucer.<br /><br />It is a refreshing example of fine porcelain china presented in a delicate<br />design, pattern and painting style. Both lovely display objects will grace<br />any table, curio or china cabinet. Cup features intricate handle, and both<br />footed pieces are with vivid colors.<br /><br />Here is a delightful set from Zhong Guo Zhi Zao is made by Phoenix H<br />circa 1980-1990.<br /><br />Cup and saucer is definitely a vintage work of art, and has a lot going for<br />it. Porcelain is unusually light but strong – making this the ultimate<br />experience of a delicious cup of brewed tea, coffee or chocolate.<br /><br />MARKINGS<br />Maker’s mark inscribed in black scripted Chinese and English lettering<br />under glaze authenticates both pieces as a factory matching set with the<br />number ‘9’. Black and white back stamp under glaze features trademark<br />logo with 2 peacocks and the letter ‘H’ in the center. It is followed by<br />Chinese script and the words ‘Made In China’.<br /><br />CONDITION<br />Shiny glaze. 22 kt. gold trim intact. Nice ring tone when gently struck.<br />No crazing or cracks. Small 1/16ths inch chip to handle made at factory<br />level – China has an embossed swirl pattern so unnoticeable unless you<br />are looking for it. Saucer is pristine. May have minor scuff marks – if<br />any. Well kept. Colors are vivid and bright. White is white. Overall,<br />looks great and very clean. <br /></blockquote><br />All that for a $9 teacup from the early 1990's. She even describes how the teacup sounds when gently struck. I don't know about you but that's at the top of my list of questions when buying a cheap ass second hand teacup and saucer off Craigslist.<br /><br />Apparently other Craigslist regulars are beginning to tire of the elegance of this Craiglist Cuckoo and have called her out, asking her to get her own ebay store. One brute went so far as to post this:<br /><br /><blockquote>I agree with the previous poster asking why not just get an eBay store....<br />I'm like the others....very tired of reading a dadblasted novel about every little trinket that you have found at the thrift store for the last 12 years...<br />And please stop overposting while you're at it. </blockquote><br /><br />She's listed at least 10 more items since she was called out, showing that she's a true lady of elegance and perseverance.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-11302337797566358292008-12-24T11:18:00.000-08:002008-12-24T11:24:37.320-08:00That Was MisleadingI just opened my computer to a headline reading, "Deicer Sucked Into Cabin of Airplane" and I got a little alarmed. I was picturing an actual human being wearing a name tag that said, "Jamie: Deicing Crew" being sucked into a closed airplane. I just didn't know how on Earth that could even be possible so I had to actually read the article, which went on to explain that a de-icing chemical had managed to enter the cabin of an airplane on the tarmac. That makes a lot more sense.<br /><br />Unfortunately I wasn't shocked at the news that several passengers had to seek medical attention due to burning eyes. Those people can get a sniff of Windex and see dollar signs.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-22606890194600500132008-12-07T19:24:00.000-08:002008-12-07T19:37:30.239-08:00Seriously. The SequelI had three standout customers today.<br /><br />1. Tag Switcher. Tag Switcher brought a nice sweater up to the counter and when I rang it up, the cost was around $5 and the description was for a t-shirt. When I brought this to her attention and pulled up the true price of the sweater, Tag Switcher protested loudly by saying, "Oh no, no NO" and turned around and left. A coworker pointed out that Tag Switcher is a regular and tries that old switcheroo on everyone. Sure enough, the tag was distressed where she had removed it from one shirt to put on the sweater.<br /><br />2. Queen of Customer Service. QofCS brought a pair of pants that were marked $4.99 to the register. They rang up for around $8, then with the discount went down to $6. I'm not sure where the markdown sticker on the pants came from, because ours are easily peelable and we have some goofballs with access to a sticker gun, but either way it wasn't a valid price. I brought the discrepancy to the manager on duty's attention and she said that we couldn't sell the item at that price. I got a lecture from the QoCS about the policy at Macy's, then she told me she owned a business, blah blah blah. I know I had the "You are seriously not arguing with me over a $6 pair of pants" look on my face. She kept on and on so I told her I'd be happy to return the pants for her and as I went to process that, she decided that she really indeed wanted the pants.<br /><br />3. Ghetto Trick. Ghetto Trick was missing a few teeth, very loud and chewing on a See's Candy lollipop as she tried to scam a few gift boxes out of us. She had a kid who she plopped down in our little kids entertainment section and ignored until we heard customers gasping, then we saw her kid- sitting buck naked in our kids chairs. GT tried to hand us a piss soaked Pull Up to put in the trash. How I managed to keep the "Oh Hell no" in my mouth I may never know, but I did manage to direct her to the trash can in the mall corridor in a ladylike manner. She left the kid in the store in his jeans while she did that and I was talking to him when he said, "My pants are wet" and sure enough, he had stood there and pissed his pants. By the time Ghetto Trick was back in the store, that kid had stomped around the kids area in his piss pants. <br /><br />Today was a pretty lively day.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-48814259540379387292008-12-07T19:16:00.000-08:002008-12-07T19:21:10.005-08:00I'll See Your Easy Spirits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FS8oGCkLz6U4N2Uw9TFUMjcjLRQWbrb2u5_hnkNJ5vf6x1ZUojWuVQecqKbsdKi4FqfTfpyewkE6TryWX1tHBkqP3Diru2qVl7aT8lWbwRAdnW6eUuabD8olY2iVg4W5Blu_3ErjcHI/s1600-h/crocs.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FS8oGCkLz6U4N2Uw9TFUMjcjLRQWbrb2u5_hnkNJ5vf6x1ZUojWuVQecqKbsdKi4FqfTfpyewkE6TryWX1tHBkqP3Diru2qVl7aT8lWbwRAdnW6eUuabD8olY2iVg4W5Blu_3ErjcHI/s320/crocs.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277254012664252066" /></a><br />And raise with these Crocs.<br /><br />My coworker and I were talking today about our need for new shoes (ha) so on my lunch, I was hanging around outside starbucks waiting on a friend and I wandered over to the Crocs kiosk and got flirted with by the little lesbian sales clerk. I bought a pair of shoes. For me. Crocs. They are actually pretty cute and very comfy. I was wearing jeans with cute little Eddie Bauer patterned socks (about 5 years old) and when I put on my new Crocs, the socks peeked out a little bit and it was a good look. You know, for Crocs. I was feeling a little dorky until my coworker stuck her foot out and showed me her new shoes. She had bought Easy Spirits. I had to laugh at her.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-89365252002142200992008-12-06T17:54:00.001-08:002008-12-06T18:01:00.039-08:00SeriouslyI worked today at my retail job. I had one bitch who really tried my patience. Normally, our customers are way nice but this one today just took the cake for being a pain in the ass. We have a promotion going on now where you get a voucher type deal for a future purchase for a certain dollar amount and this lady had a huge arm full of clearance merchandise and had me ring up every. single. fucking. item and read her the final amount for each piece. Then she would sit there and debate with me and herself about whether or not she was going to purchase the items, one by one. We had a line going out of our door and I seriously must have spent 20 minutes with this woman over a bunch of clearance crap. After the fourth transaction (of course she wanted all this shit in separate batches) she comes around the counter to put her bags under my feet so that she could do some more shopping in the store.<br /><br />I love my job and most times it's a pleasure to help people, but if I made the rules I'd ban that chick from the store. I'm clearly not cut out for management.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-82680008764740378762008-12-01T19:23:00.000-08:002008-12-01T19:40:21.372-08:00I'm Alive!Thanks to those of you who have checked in on me! I'm alive and well, just as busy as can be.<br /><br />In early November, I accepted a job at a well known children's clothing store (if you know where I work, don't out me because you know I will end up talking shit about them at some point) and I have been working my ass off since then. I have never made so little money per hour in my entire life, but then again I've never had so much fun at a job. It gets me out of the house and gives me a reason to get dressed and I have made a lot of new friends. People that know me from preschool or the neighborhood are shocked to see me working. My children, especially Moggie, have become little fashionistas and can't wait to see what I've brought home for them each time I work. The timing of starting my job and them needing warm clothes coincided so I think the girls think that my sole mission with this work gig is to bring them a new outfit every day.<br /><br />To get to the point, trying to be a good wife, mother, friend and employee has led to me being a suck ass blogger. I had to squeeze in a 10 minute call to my dad this morning between errands to wish him a belated happy Thanksgiving. That's how badly I suck. <br /><br />Please accept my flimsy excuses and I promise that I'll try to get into interesting situations and blog about them soon. I'm seriously considering hosting a little cocktail hour at my house next weekend for my new workmates. That should make for at least one funny post, right?Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-45065388015176827362008-11-04T16:07:00.000-08:002008-11-04T16:11:29.255-08:00Old Biotch, Meet KarmaMoggie and I hit the Chick Fil A drive thru tonight for dinner for the family. I stopped to let a family cross in front of me and this old bitch in a burgundy Crown Victoria whipped around me and jacked me for my spot in the drive thru line. I didn't do anything but mumble, "Old bitch" under my breath because I wasn't in any big hurry. After I ordered and drove up to the window behind her, I saw the cashier hand her the drink she ordered and all of a sudden the old bitch was holding the cup outside her window because she had managed to spill the drink all over herself. I had my window down and I laughed, "Ha ha, you old bitch, that's Karma!!".Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-14347892810485930852008-10-31T19:56:00.000-07:002008-10-31T20:15:55.847-07:00She Needed Drunkin'<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAi2Q1SZDJ9c915CDvmSG2-wRz83vipulvzQrMUywNxYguP18n8-4Odj-_WFetX-byu2dp4zFqIORXimsZAapN6gNXGg7QP9aIdKfZuCB-YQhfotAYDROwECFoM0y_07IZ1IwE0wRa-i0/s1600-h/025.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAi2Q1SZDJ9c915CDvmSG2-wRz83vipulvzQrMUywNxYguP18n8-4Odj-_WFetX-byu2dp4zFqIORXimsZAapN6gNXGg7QP9aIdKfZuCB-YQhfotAYDROwECFoM0y_07IZ1IwE0wRa-i0/s320/025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263518624177900242" /></a><br /><br />Have you ever heard the redneck phrase, "He needed killin'"? Well, tonight, I needed drunkin'. And drunkin' I did. I dressed as Tipsy Housewife, complete with my wooden spoon, Kitchen Madonna apron and wooden spoon. I can't tell you the last time I felt, well, drunker. Halloween and drunk go well together.<br /><br />My kids were cute, my husband dead sexy, and I couldn't have had a better night. Hope it was the same for all of you!<br /><br />ETA: I only had one wooden spoon. I did have more wine than was required for "Tipsy Housewife" so I turned out to be the Completely Drunk and Soiled with Wine Housewife but here in North Georgia, I was considered to be charming. So Ha, to you, people who don't drink.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-72216977480394065222008-10-30T09:28:00.000-07:002008-10-30T09:33:21.060-07:00Mary J. Blige Would Like to Play<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HyjgEd6fIpA0cjPu7Mwe5EgaSgM_sh5rB1m1nJu1vI2mmR0Crisd6j_ElTyEPuOP3lQdtg7gXJY02WeKft_u3WwzjX1UqKXshwMRtzrFYfmzlktk4fK0lzGkDLHk0DeXEnNggBXBmbM/s1600-h/132.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HyjgEd6fIpA0cjPu7Mwe5EgaSgM_sh5rB1m1nJu1vI2mmR0Crisd6j_ElTyEPuOP3lQdtg7gXJY02WeKft_u3WwzjX1UqKXshwMRtzrFYfmzlktk4fK0lzGkDLHk0DeXEnNggBXBmbM/s320/132.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262985756402255538" /></a><br />My girls can spend hours building Miis on their Wii. One day I caught them making this one and I couldn't help laughing because it looked like Mary J. Blige when she went through that blonde pigtail phase in the 90's. You know, the good old days when we were young and understood music.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-90295310358889827842008-10-26T19:29:00.000-07:002008-10-26T19:37:09.002-07:00Totally Not MeDon't get me wrong, I'm sure I'll consider driving to Nebraska before the end of this week but <a href="http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/cobb/stories/2008/10/26/nebraska_child_abandon.html?cxntlid=homepage_tab_newstab">this bitch</a> beat me to national fame by being the first from Georgia to drop her kid off in Nebraska. I'm probably 30 miles east of her so if I drop mine off I will own the Farthest Drive to Dump Kids title until some skank from further away usurps me. <br /><br />I'm just not sure I can invest in a long ass road trip only to be stripped of my title the next week. Unless some of you want to chip in for gas money. I accept PayPal.<br /><br />*Disclaimer: If any grandparents to my children are reading this, I'm totally kidding. My girls are angels straight from Heaven and I'm hoping to prove this to you by dumping them on you for a few weeks this summer. I mean, <span style="font-style:italic;">blessing you</span> with their company.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-73058575949812128842008-10-15T18:00:00.000-07:002008-10-15T18:11:59.188-07:00Pardon Her Urine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju45fyUoGnIOV-e51ZyUnj0Ifu8IItBhzoYlV7mHoetFrt7-YLsajRdlHKVtAnBFMV2AevOmTYmHeqLJo1kc2XsPaK3OdPCJ9RNqyHStvNj3I3wtWrLysllBJ_O99OMY1dH_qtE4sRRXs/s1600-h/wet+floor.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju45fyUoGnIOV-e51ZyUnj0Ifu8IItBhzoYlV7mHoetFrt7-YLsajRdlHKVtAnBFMV2AevOmTYmHeqLJo1kc2XsPaK3OdPCJ9RNqyHStvNj3I3wtWrLysllBJ_O99OMY1dH_qtE4sRRXs/s320/wet+floor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257553206797975810" /></a><br />In my misery of adapting to being broke, I have forgotten to tell you all of a funny escapade that Moggie and I had at The Wal-Mart nearly two weeks ago. Tootie has dance class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so afterwards on one of those days, Moggie and I hit The Wal-Mart for a few needed grocery items. Now Moggie is a child on a mission to hit every flipping bathroom in North Georgia. I have a crazy and perhaps irrational aversion to public bathrooms so we typically have a battle of the wills when we go shopping together.<br /><br />Moggie likes to ride on the front of the cart, holding onto the basket with her arms. As we made our way to the back of the store, she said she had to use the potty. I told her that she would just have to wait. Yeah, I know it's crazy to tell a four year old kid to wait, but she's been potty trained for over 2 years and she raises false alarms so much that it's hard to believe her. She looked at me and said, "Mom, I can't wait" and as she said that she was peeing in her pants. I shrieked, "MOGGIE" and then my legs went in two different directions and my back and ass thunked on the floor, right there by the paint counter. I was so embarrassed, and covered in piss, so I hopped up and ran off like a gazelle. As soon as I got out of sight of the paint guy, I slung Moggie in the cart to sit and hurried up and got out of there.<br /><br />Looking back, I should have told someone that my kid had pissed in the aisle but I was so freaked out by the whole ordeal that I just jetted.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-12896439541663924682008-10-08T07:50:00.001-07:002008-10-08T07:53:44.883-07:00Hard Times HumorYesterday, while driving Tootie to dance class, I passed the Wal-Mart and noticed that the resident beggar was walking away from his day shift. This guy approaches me every single time that I'm in the parking lot, and he always asks for $3 for a tv dinner. This is even when times were good and you could walk into any store and get a job, so I don't have a lot of pity for him. I normally just mutter <span style="font-style:italic;">motherfucker</span> under my breath when I see him but yesterday I was like <span style="font-style:italic;">If times get much harder I'm jacking you for your begging spot, motherfucker</span>.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-15782707452066852742008-10-07T10:43:00.000-07:002008-10-07T10:56:31.385-07:00The Great Depression<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3AjUjMd_2qRAPLrPJz3hsUFvnvcZWytjUnN0PolWL8dZXpYQ0cpWqCN4hyphenhyphengCTL3LQ1sTBMpSjfsCcITQhEEkdy1MyxRy5GiQYE9b4BR4fapdDtwqc0D1BbfVCw-1XYB3sIIDrdCvAwDg/s1600-h/baldwinsisters.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3AjUjMd_2qRAPLrPJz3hsUFvnvcZWytjUnN0PolWL8dZXpYQ0cpWqCN4hyphenhyphengCTL3LQ1sTBMpSjfsCcITQhEEkdy1MyxRy5GiQYE9b4BR4fapdDtwqc0D1BbfVCw-1XYB3sIIDrdCvAwDg/s320/baldwinsisters.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254470821252042690" /></a><br />Sorry I've been MIA here lately. I've been weighing the options of heading west to pick fruit or hunkering down with the extended family on Walton's Mountain. If I had one good partner in crime I could probably make a living selling moonshine because God knows, boozehounds have to have their hooch.<br /><br />Times are seriously hard, my friends. We are trading cars for el cheapos, trying to live on $25/week in groceries. It helps that we have a freezer full of stuff to eat off of, but it still sucks to cringe when the girls waste half a sandwich.<br /><br />Maybe something funny will happen and things will brighten a little, but for the moment I'm wallowing in self-pity and fear.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-21647050592899162682008-09-26T16:17:00.000-07:002008-09-26T16:26:43.116-07:0045 More MinutesTill bedtime for the girls. I don't normally watch the clock but I'm ready for some nice downtime tonight. Fidel's not home so we won't be doing our normal Friday night deal- catching up on the Tivo-ed shows we watch. I'm going to straighten up, take a nice long hot shower, and curl up in bed with a book and hopefully be asleep by 9:30. I would make a cup of tea and chill out in the hot tub but I have these incisions and I'm not allowed to take a bath yet so I'm pretty sure that soaking in a hot tub is out of the question.<br /><br />I think you turn into an old Nana when you get your gall bladder removed. Happened to me.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-72814937870269414012008-09-26T07:19:00.000-07:002008-09-26T07:37:52.451-07:00Gas Crabs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8JTHft1VTDq9MrjLwFzKuoQ26GEVDWOaUQFIFRvmnsN9z495A3lX1PIiACjCuh74ECStZ22VqT8-2ISkgSP4h2m-ovj2L9yxqPImCkTAXLRzKs-jB8rs8m1DNdZeZn2hGTW1qpBswGo/s1600-h/gaslines.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8JTHft1VTDq9MrjLwFzKuoQ26GEVDWOaUQFIFRvmnsN9z495A3lX1PIiACjCuh74ECStZ22VqT8-2ISkgSP4h2m-ovj2L9yxqPImCkTAXLRzKs-jB8rs8m1DNdZeZn2hGTW1qpBswGo/s320/gaslines.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250338844529394610" /></a><br />Here in the Atlanta area, there is a shortage of gasoline. Most gas stations don't have gas prices on the exterior signs and the pump handles are covered with plastic bags. I've been conserving (napping a lot instead of leaving the house) so my tank of gas has lasted me a long time, but today the gas light came on and it was time to refuel. I finally found a gas station with one grade of gas, and got in line to wait my turn to fill my tank and empty my wallet.<br /><br />I had a magazine in the car to help me pass the time, but the people watching was so exciting, I never even picked up the magazine. It's funny how crabby ordinary people become when they are in a line for gasoline. I was sweating the whole deal a little myself, figuring the pump would run dry just as it was my turn, but a lot of people were just plain bitching each other out in the parking lot of the gas station. People were getting cussed out for being too slow to pay with cash inside before they pumped. <br /><br />Immediately to my right, two old <span style="font-style:italic;">old</span> men pulled up in a panel truck nearly as old as they were and started pumping gas. Old Man 1 (the driver) pumped gas while Old Man 2 hobbled inside the gas station to drain his lizard, I suppose, because he hobbled back out empty handed a little while later. By this time, OM1 was done pumping gas so he went inside to do his business. He didn't bother to move his truck up to the non-working gas pump directly in front of where he was so that the people in the long ass line behind him could start pumping. OM2 decided to wash the windshield very thoroughly. Thoroughly and methodically. And slower than Christmas. The nice lady in the burgundy Honda behind him went from nice lady to raving she-bitch in the span of time that OM2 scrubbed half of the windshield. <br /><br />As I was exiting the pump, I needed to cut through the line that was running the opposite way to get out of the parking lot. Because the 2 Old Men were finally being run off of the pump, there was a gap opening up behind about the third car. Since people were sitting there with the engines off it took a few seconds for them to pull up so I went ahead and pulled through the spot, apparently infuriating the driver of the 4th car, another old man who felt the need to yell at me like I was cutting in line and not driving on through to make way for someone else like I was actually doing. I had my window down and yelled, "Simmer down, you old bastard" at him. I can't imagine how ridiculous I looked for yelling that at an old man in a very crowded parking lot. I just don't know what gets into me. But I could have stayed there all day calling people old bastards.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-42140655822850315072008-09-24T11:26:00.000-07:002008-09-24T11:32:28.904-07:00Too Sick to PostForgive my lack of posting. I am pretty much over the gall bladder ordeal but now I have some horrible intestinal issue that makes Ebola look like a head cold. Obviously I'm over-exaggerating but I haven't been this miserably sick in a long time. I'm pretty much in a coma or praying for a quick death if I'm not in the bathroom.<br /><br />And now in the time that it took me to write this, Moggie has just bashed her head into the front porch so it looks like I will be taking my sick sweaty puking ass to the urgent care center.<br /><br />It never ends.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-76861634305593335262008-09-19T12:50:00.001-07:002008-09-19T12:58:24.787-07:00The Power of PrayerThanks to all of you who prayed for my flatulence. My next door neighbor, who happens to be a nurse, dropped by yesterday and was mortified at the amount of pain that I was in. She insisted that I walk, which was more like wobble and whimper, but it did get the gas moving. I feel so much better today.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-2676452563025849822008-09-18T17:39:00.000-07:002008-09-18T17:43:15.998-07:00Dear Lord<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIz8xFE3UsPJrhYFT9jtyzU-OIJFOZmEY6LrLn_xOiOEnnMOUnXMECi8ZF-eX3ouahyphenhyphenEeNI4TT2CW46p_4QA_wBxQghl2jE62eE62wB7Tfzt82rmMtD8MCIWXC0A_0xsTCAYScbSyxcc/s1600-h/praying.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIz8xFE3UsPJrhYFT9jtyzU-OIJFOZmEY6LrLn_xOiOEnnMOUnXMECi8ZF-eX3ouahyphenhyphenEeNI4TT2CW46p_4QA_wBxQghl2jE62eE62wB7Tfzt82rmMtD8MCIWXC0A_0xsTCAYScbSyxcc/s320/praying.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247526538599185426" /></a><br />Please let me fart. That's all I want, to pass some of this gas that has me swollen as a tick.<br /><br />I have had an absolutely horrible day. A friend called and asked if she could do anything for me and I asked her to come shoot me in the head or smother me with a pillow. I actually laid in bed and prayed to fart.<br /><br />My next door neighbor is a nurse and she brought me some flowers this afternoon and had me up walking around and I was able to burp a few times and it relieved me a little. I'm no longer suicidal so I'd say I've improved today.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-57456944535736312672008-09-17T16:52:00.000-07:002008-09-17T16:53:12.485-07:00I Lived!I'm home, finally. It was a really long day.<br /><br />I'll post more later, need to catch a little drug snooze.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2402313915969330997.post-49395451405711181042008-09-16T17:25:00.001-07:002008-09-16T17:41:08.248-07:00Are You Flirting With Me?I met my surgeon this afternoon and he is a funny guy. He has a charming Texas accent and a fancy title on his business cards. He has diagnosed me with <span style="font-style:italic;">Biliary dyskinesia</span>, which translates to <span style="font-style:italic;">your gall bladder has petered out</span> in layman's terms. He said that if there was a textbook on gall bladder disorders (and one would think there has to be at least one of those somewhere) that my picture would be next to <span style="font-style:italic;">Biliary dyskinesia</span> because I had a textbook case that a med student could diagnose. I didn't tell him that Dr. Google had increased his batting average by nailing this one.<br /><br />My surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 12:15 and I have to arrive at the hospital at 9 for the pre-op stuff and he wants to run my labs again. I should be nervous about the surgery but I'm so sick of this pain that I could remove the gall bladder with a fork myself. It's kind of like being nervous about the epidural when you are having a baby, but when the real pain hits you are begging them to slice your spine clean open if they have to.<br /><br />I'm tempted to take my laptop with me since I'll have some downtime before surgery but all I need to do is have access to iTunes when I'm drugged up. I'll be dancing around in my hospital gown, flashing my white ass to the world. No one needs that, so you will just have to wait until I get home tomorrow evening to hear stories of how I have embarrassed myself.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05341337725349264318noreply@blogger.com5