Thursday, October 6, 2011
I think a big part of my uncomfortableness came from me not wanting to show the real me, for fear I would immediately get the boot. I mean who wants to hang out with the girl that half of her conversations are about bathroom humor or the regrets she has about not growing up to make out with Lionel Richie. More than I thought actually.
In one day alone I managed to rap to Eazy-E, act out a jail phone conversation through the clear lead shields, and do my James Brown imitation to an unsuspecting tech (It's amazing the things you can do in Dansko's on wax floors).
Lesson learned E, just be yourself.
I am also exploring the opportunities that old age is bringing me. Kris and I were hanging out at Town Center in Sugarland and trying to come up with the next best thing to replace Planking. I know, I know, our work is never done.
We came up with...wait for it.........Jumping! It is spectacular! Jumping involves running and jumping to touch a high object, and of course, having your photograph taken. A feat no doubt mere child's play for, oh, let's say, a child. Aaaand not so much for a mid-thirties man and wife.
This was a hysterical failure. Kris was first to go and while he did manage to touch the high hanging store sign, we think we may need to buy him some longer shirts so that he doesn't continue to belly moon the public in future attempts. I was next. I tried to run and jump to touch an awning. I had a heart attack on the first attempt. The second time I swear that I could have been in a contest with Michael Jordan. Kris claims my feet never left the ground. Remind me to make his eye doctor appointment later.
We quickly learned that photos of us jumping showed us that parts of our anatomy were not quite as we envisioned. Especially in full motion. This lead us to the next great thing for us, Exercising.
My old age is also landing me new experiences like constant headaches. I really shouldn't make fun of this because it has already been freaking me out. I had already convinced myself that I had a tumor and would need to start auditioning actors for my made for TV movie. When in actuality I learned that I may have high blood pressure. My doctor really started to freak me out by saying things like 'glaucoma, diet, Geritol'. So now I'm on this journey to find out which came first, the chicken or the egg. Is the headache causing my high blood pressure or is the high blood pressure causing my headache. At any rate I did manage to go into a covert operation with Kris and get him to steal an Entertainment Weekly magazine for me. It was from last month, is that still stealing? I got caught up on Kelly Clarkson and realized I think she's a bitch. She said in an interview, she "...Can't stand people who do karaoke for real...Let the dream go!".
Kelly! The horror! I fully anticipate getting a full record deal the next time I actually have the balls to get up there. She just don't know...I'm like that song in that movie 'Breakin'. Ain't no stopping me baby.
And did you know that Jennifer Garner is going to be starring in an independent film about 'Butter Carving', how cool is that!
I'm thankful for the old magazines in the doctors office. It takes my mind off of my fear.
I'm hoping he says everything will be fine and we can continue with my full body transplant with Eva Mendez as originally scheduled.
Well until next week, Maalox wishes and Ben-Gay dreams.
Friday, February 25, 2011
I love wearing clothes fresh out of the dryer, all warm and springtime fresh.
I love Cheetos smushed into my bologna sandwich.
I love going out to eat.I
I love pretending to be blind.
I love that I actually wrote a blog.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
My dad was an animal lover too. He was usually the one that would persuade my mom to let us have the next little tail wagger that our hearts were desiring. But again, always dogs. My mother hated cats. She hated how they would walk closely around you and rub on your legs when you were sitting watching television. And since she hated that, I'm sure that's why the goats and chickens never followed. Although I have never seen a chicken rub on anyone, so I really should have pushed harder for that one.
Now there's one dog in particular that really left a paw print on my heart (If you need to vomit from all the cheesiness, now is a good time to go). It was a teeny Pekingese mix named "Scooter". They are actually called Peek-a-poos, because it's a mix of a Pekingese and a Toy Poodle. These are the cutest damn pups you have ever laid your eyes on!! So cute.
We got him maybe for Christmas. I can't remember, his adorableness makes me lose all memory of how we got him.
Things had been going quite well. Jumping, playing, running, pooping. All the fun dog things were in order. Including escaping. He escaped and was gone for a few days. We were sure he was a goner.
But he came back!! And whoa, was he a fright. Twigs and grass all in his hair. His little black book was overflowing with numbers all these little b...., well, you know. Oh yeah, and his eyeball was hanging out.
What the heck happened to your eye? Oh my God. I was probably in the second grade at this time, and couldn't even comprehend the idea that someone's eye could pop out. But it did. I think my mom thought it was just swollen, and said we should give it some time. I was pretty sure that sucker wasn't going back in. Poor Scooter.
So, he had to make a trip to the vet, had surgery, and came home our one eyed dog. It was traumatic for him in the beginning. Getting used to getting around with one eye and all.
They made him wear one of those crazy lampshade things, an Elizabethan- Collar to be exact. They really shouldn't call it that. They should call it a "Get-The-Hell-Out-of-My-Way-Collar-Because-I'm-Gonna-Ram This-Thing-Right-on-Your-Bare-Shin-When-You-Least-Expect-It-Collar". Man, those things can smart. It's like getting hit with a shopping cart.
But I guess I shouldn't really be complaining. I do have two eyes and all.
I haven't thought about that dog in quite some time. I was in the third or fourth grade when he passed away. It was really traumatic for me. It was the first pet death that I can actually remember.
I couldn't go outside with my dad when he buried him. I cried for days, and then went out to the back yard and made a cross on the ground made of left over bricks that were lying around. And then I did something that should have clued my parents into what a loony I would grow up to be.
I dedicated a song to this dog. Do you remember that Dionne Warwick song "That's What Friends Are For". I wrote out the lyrics to this song on a piece of red construction paper and put "For Scooter" at the top. At the end I wrote..."If you are reading this, please put your paw right here." I even put a circle on the bottom, so he would know where to place his paw.
Really Eliza, really? 'If you are reading this...', like my dog can read.
I had this posted on my wall by my bedroom door for months. I'm sure it took all that my mother had to not burst into laughter every time she had to go in there. I wish I had kept that paper.
The other day I was walking to the bank of mailboxes, where there are usually babysitting flyers and lost dog signs. I read them and ignore them, and vow to never pick a babysitter from a mailbox flyer. But on this day in particular the lost dog sign stopped me in my tracks.Can you see that? "Only one eye". ONLY ONE EYE!! He's back!! Wait, he's a she now. I stood in front of that mailbox for a good three minutes. Just looking at it. Wondering if I should contact them, and tell them I know how they feel. Tell them that if they sing Dionne Warwick they will feel so much better. And it you put a brick cross on the grave, she will go to heaven faster.
I've even looked around for her hoping to find her and return her to her family and have a big party where we're all dressed as pirates...you know so the dog doesn't feel out of place. But I haven't seen her. I'm afraid the inevitable has probably happened because it's been a while since the sign has been up. I might have to tell them they can't use my song. I think a little Michael Jackson will be more fitting...Annie Are You Okay?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I don't even know where to start, I don't know where we went wrong. But sometime, somewhere along the way our relationship got a bit out of hand. I'm so sorry to write this to you in a letter, but I just couldn't think of any other way to do it.
I'm trying to make a lot of changes in my life, and right now, you are holding me back. There are so many jeans I want to wear, and bikinis I dream of wearing. But when you are around, it just never seems to happen. Maybe you just don't want me to be happy.
So I think we need to take a break. It's not you, it's me. Well okay, really it's you. You just carry so much baggage with you. All these calories, it's all I ever think about. I know I shouldn't judge. You didn't ask for the calories, it just happens. And they hang around constantly. Oh, I'm so sorry. I know how much this must hurt you. Please, wait, please, don't start melting on me...you know what that does to me.
Maybe in another time, we can try our relationship again. You know, start slow. Maybe I'll see you in an omelet. But only a little bit. And I do have to confess. There is someone else right now. I have to be honest. I just couldn't get through it alone. So please try not to start any drama when you see Salsa hanging around. He's a good guy. He has calories too, but only 10. You have 110!!
I'm so sorry, there I go again. Judging you because of your calories.
P.S. I love you, I've always loved you.
However, last week I ordered some new size medium scrub pants for work, the larges I currently wear have been randomly falling down and I have been having to explain myself far too many times at the hospital. I thought these mediums were going to be a sure fire fit.
The pants laughed at me as I put them on. They actually laughed. It was hard to tell though because they were too tight, so it really sounded like someone being gagged with a bandanna like you see in the movies. But I know they were laughing.
Damn those pants.
I really don't understand. The ones I have now are too big, I ordered a smaller size. That should have solved my problem right? I did everything right.
Log onto website.
Select "You are too short to ride this ride" length.
Check the big booty button.
Dagnabbit!! That was it, I forgot to check the big booty button.
I'm not returning the pants, it's too damn complicated for me! I'm sure I've already lost the return slip anyways. And they make you pay for shipping it back!
I decided the only solution was to say a sad goodbye to Mr. KeyLime and put him in the trash. It was so sad. I had to console him the whole time. We shared a big hug, and a small smooch (Okay, okay, I ate a slice! Sue me!).
He's gone now. I've yet to try the pants on again. I'm waiting for them to stop laughing.
Okay so the mother of all my fears came to life today at work. Had to go into work early for a meeting, and we were relocating to another part of the building to continue the meeting. We stepped into the elevators that I hate, because they are older than the ones in the new wing. They go sooo slow, you can hardly tell if you are moving or not. I always make fun of them and say they are powered by fat hamsters. So, yup you guessed it. We got stuck.
This is absolutely awful for me, because beside the fact that I have a history of fainting, I am clostrophobic. So this is a lose-lose situation for me.
My fear is so great that I even have a plan should I ever get stuck in an elevator.
If I am by myself, I will push every damn button in there hoping something might happen. And if that fails then I will push that "Call Button" thing, and make the person on the other end stay on the line with me, like a 911 call, and have him or her pen out my will, should I plummet to my unforseen death. I am always sure to have some sort of candy or gum in my purse...I have to have something to eat. I'm pretty sure I should start permanently carrying ham or maybe jerky around with me.
If I am with another person, I will calmly pull out my elevator survial contract, hand it to the other person and be sure they read and sign it. I can't have someone stealing all my jerky or trying to pee in my designated pee corner, should we get trapped for a prolonged amount of time. They also need to know that the call button is mine, and I carry gel pen with me at all times as well, and those things are SHARP!!! I will cut you!
Panic instantly set in when I realized we were not moving. The lights stayed on...Thank God...but we were surely not moving, and I had just drank an ass load of coffee. Sadly, my plan did not include being in there with co-workers, nor did it include being in there with more than one person. There were five of us. Five of us and only four corners!! I am not sharing a pee corner! I instantly pushed the call button, I think I might have pulled someone's hair to get to it, I'm not sure. It's really all a blur. It rang and then I felt myself getting all cold and clammy.
I'm going down.
My initial instinct was to strip. I figured my nudity would distract my other prisoners from the fact that I was fainting. Just kidding. I only took off my extra sweater and jacket. Thank goodness I had shaved my armpits the night before or I would have been really hot.
How long have we been in here.
Where is my gel pen?
I started to feel like a Chilean miner. When were they going to start sending in provisions. That is why people die. They wait too long to send them supplies. I'm pretty sure we had already been in there a good two minutes. Someone else had gum, and I gladly took it. I am not letting my supply go to waste.
Someone said they had to pee, which instantly made me have to poop. I'm going to die.
People started to change the subject. I think I talked about Zumba, and how much I hate it, and then I had a conversation in my head with myself about whether or not I would be willing to eat my leather jacket, should it come down to it.
We're still in here...it's been about 5 minutes now, and I'm positive my family doesn't remember what I look like. We could hear people on the other side, but I'm sure they were just laughing at us.
At about 8-10 minutes we were free. I instantly hugged the maintenance man who let us out. I smiled when I did it, because I was sure that CNN was going to be covering this.
So now I'm sure he thinks I like him. I wonder if he would clean my house?
Any ways, I'm free now. I survived. I vow to not make in fun of the hamsters anymore. But really I should vow to take the stairs. Thanks for listening.
I need to go work on my new elevator plan.