Proud Moment

Okay, I am supposed to be cleaning the house because I am a PigSlob who is:

1. messy
2. cluttered
3. mildly hoarding-like
4. easily distracted
5. what was I saying?
6. Oh yeah....
7. hey! something shiny! (focus, dammit, this is Wal-mart and the nose leash all over again)
8. painfully addicted to the internet
9. unable to throw perfectly good things out (see No. 3)
10. incapable of properly organizing donations of things (and I feel guilty asking those certain ones to come to my door - it costs them gas money so how is that helping?)
11. don't know where to send perfectly good toiletries I haven't opened or don't want any more (even women's shelters around here won't accept them) which sends me back to No. 9.
12. indecisive, often stopping myself before I start, especially with tasks like this
13. quick to get frustrated/impatient and want to give up

Okay, I'm done making that stupid list. It's depressing (see No. 13).

Anywho, I had a proud moment today. Thought I would share it with you all so you can once again say "I'm so happy I don't have her life".

I have still been losing weight (and hair) and now I am getting pain in my teeth. The latest (racist and incompetent) dietitian told me to try to ignore the 'BANNED' or 'CHEAT' list and start eating more foods because I am simply not getting proper nutrition.

SO you know what my wonderful idea was today? Why not lure a co-worker to come to the PIZZA.Freakin'.HUT.Lunch.BUFFET. And I lured. And we went. And I ATE beyotches. I ate like it was the last supper, or.. well... the first good lunch I have had in a loooooong time.

What? Not a good idea?

I ate 8 pieces of veggie pizza, and 2 pieces of dessert pizza. Oh, and 2 bread sticks for good measure.

C'mon! Those are SMALL pieces. (Note, all but the onions and tomatoes are on the banned list in my irritant-free, G.I.-friendly diet).

I returned to work. The cramps worsened. The nausea bloomed. But I expected that. Tomorrow will be rough. But I signed up for it, so suck it up, right?

I had to return a bunch of bathroom items from the renovation (I seriously took back 5 shower curtains, among about 25 other things - have I mentioned I hate making returns yet do it all the time? See No. 12 - indecisive).

I pulled into the mall parking lot after successfully stopping and returning stuff at 2 stores. And I felt it. After 7 months of vomiting daily in 2009, there was no mistaking what was coming next.

I was in a freshly paved, non-porous asphalt parking lot. There was no storm drain nearby. Even if there was, I wouldn't have made it in time.

SO the vomiting commenced. Leaning out of my driver's side door, trying to simultaneously keep the door open enough to not puke IN the car, closed enough I had a shred of a veil/cover from the public in the lot, keep my damn sweater cowl neck from becoming a strainer, and hold my stupid brown/purple terrible-multi-length-cut-hair from becoming entangled in the drama in front of me.

What a proud moment.

Thought I was done.

I wasn't.

Image Credit

In... uhhh.. unrelated news - Did you know that asphalt is really hard? That things can BOUNCE back upwards if shot downwards with enough force?

Yeah... my last post about the spa lost me two followers (that's 12%! How depressing is that?!). I figure this post should clear out at least 5 more.

But this is my life. This is the glory and the glamour. This is the frustration, the hunger, the lack of portion-control. This is my body telling me to eff.right.off. I still had to make returns to 3 more stores, on shaky legs. I popped an organic, all natural, sugar and sweetener-free mint, cleaned up with a napkin, and had to forge ahead.

"Hi..... I'm here to look legitimate and mature and make some returns. Mmmmkay? What? Something on my face?"

Maybe it was really just triggered because two of my co-workers were egging me on when Bublé came on the radio before I left. One even started singing. Then playing it on his computer. Loud enough to enrage me (so, simply audible I guess).

I say it's Bublé's fault.

Too bad I couldn't explain that to the lady beside me in the line at Winners... who kept inching further and further away from me...

Gotta go clean. BF's folks are coming into town and I have to deal with Nos. 1 through 13 now.


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I'm Scared of Spas - Part 1

No, not "spazz"... I'm one of those quite frequently. Or react that way frequently.


I recently had a really bad spa day. "Bad spa day!?" you say, "How on earth could one have a BAD day at the spa, with all the pampering and selfishness and having other people serve you, you haughty bitch?!"... and at first I would tend to agree.

But I know better now. Much much better. Times two.

I'll start with the most recent one, which resulted in me being told to "get the hell out of my salon because I don't have time to deal with this."

The aesthetician took me into a little ghetto back area without enough room to completely move around. She explained my package would include a facial and 30 minute massage. I had originally booked a manicure, too ('cause I thought, what the hell, maybe it will stop me from chewing my nails off for another week). I cancelled that part two days before because I had a doctor's appointment I needed to be at later on, and I didn't want to cut it too close.

What, me....be late? I know, unfathomable.

Anyway, so she assured me there would be enough time for the manicure. I said no. She INSISTED yes, it would be dry in time. I caved. Drawn over to the selection of 18 polish colours, I felt neon was not in my best interests. She assured me that french polish was "classy and sophisticated". I used to think that, too, in my youth. I went to the trouble of getting one for BF's sister's wedding, only to realize that everyone but me thinks they are ugly and not desirable.

RACY PHOTOS BELOW!  SORT OF NSFW!

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Schultzy Goes For Surgery

UPDATE: Sept. 24/10 8:25 pm, Schultz is doing okay! The surgery went well, they were able to cut out all of what they were hoping to, now we await test results to find out if it is something neutral or something bad. He was quite distressed I was told, after coming out of the anesthetic, chewed out his IV, ate his bandage and was probably making a hell of a lot of noise, so BF picked him up fairly soon after surgery.

Schultz is just sleeping, is very out of it, and refuses to drink which worries me a bit, but we'll give him some time. So relieved his is home with us. I couldn't face losing two of my pups in one year.

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Another atypical serious post (most are not like this, but this one is important).

So tomorrow morning we take our boy to have surgery on his back end.

Looking a little tipsy in this photo

I had to put down my beloved Scooby Doo in January of this year, and it nearly killed me. I know that sounds absurd - she was a dog, but she had been my best friend and unfailing companion for 13 years.

With Schultz, I feel so bad for all that he's been through, and I just want him to be healthy and happy and know he is loved. Can animals know love? Probably not. They don't even recognize time.

But I'd like to think he know tenderness and compassion - or at least the opposite of abuse, neglect and starvation - in this household.

"Shit... I'm going where tomorrow? For what exactly?"

I wish I could explain it is to make him better.

"Nawww, just playin' Mom, I play you like a fiddle. So easy to get you wound up." *snickers to himself*

It's amazing how much pets can mean and how huge a space they hold in your heart. And then add in my incredible, impressive, hard-to-fathom, exhausting anxiety, and you've got yourself one hell of a worried fur-baby mom who won't be sleeping tonight.

Guarding us against small children and the elderly. Good Boy!

I tease him all the time... joke that he isn't the brightest dog, or that he enjoys the company of his nether regions more than me, or tease about his constant drooling (what, he can't help it, it's a Dane 'design flaw' - those jowls give him no choice and I know it), but in truth he is an incredible guy who has overcome horrendous treatment in his life. I love him with all my heart, and whenever I can make his tail wag, it feels like a small victory to me. For all he's been through, and to see he's still smilin'.

I'll update tomorrow to hopefully (surely, right?) say that all is well, they could remove things, it isn't cancer and that his heart was just fine for his age under anesthetic.

I have to go out of town for my own doctor's appointment after we take him in, so I will be a nervous wreck until we are all home together.

Please think positive thoughts for our boy, and cheer Dr. H. and Dr. R. on in your minds!

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We love you, big guy.

xoxoxox

Mom & Dad aka BF

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