31 August 2009

You Don't Want to be My Neighbor

I'm still stalking my neighbor.

Except, I'm stalking without peeking in windows, or even leaving my house...

Maybe I should have worded that "i'm still TALKING about my neighbor"
and it should be "neighborS" because NOW, finally... they've all shown up. (Except, I still haven't seen her. OH! and I think she might be Asian ... which would make for the third Asian wifey married to an AF Officer on this street ALONE - and it's a weird conspiracy that I'm totally interested in figuring out... What's with the Very White AF Officer and the Amanda-is-too-stupid-to-know-what-ethnicity-but-it's-something-Asian wifey??)

Last week, I hypothesized that they were possibly into some really freaky stuff because why on EARTH would you have a semi-truck come back (WITH! WORKERS! EACH! DAY!) every day, for 4 days straight? That's a LOT of stuff, peoples. Like, 4 trucks worth.

Yes, they are a large family (4 kids) (I still haven't seen anyone other than him), but this house is maybe? 2,500-2,600 square feet. How much stuff could you have without a basement?

No attic either.

And they relocated from Who Knows Where But Really Far Away, so all those things MUST be valuable - to them...

AND - they bought new furniture when they got here - two truckloads of Rooms To Go and Haverty's came and went bringing living room and dining room furniture and new bedroom suits. WHAT ELSE CAN YOU FILL FOUR TRUCKS WITH IF YOU AREN'T BRINGING FURNITURE?????

I thought "Ok... what could all that stuff be"... and then that made me remember that one episode of Secret Lives of Women on Lifetime (maybe? Lifetime? Or something... Oxygen?). Yeah... Oxygen I think... anyways.. It's the episode where the woman is a hoarder and she collects/stashes-in-her-lair tons and tons of Halloween masks (like... Hollywood rate masks). She totally freaked me out. All that clutter AND it's all creepy masks?

I went there. With my neighbors.

What totally off-the-wall thing were they unloading into that house that required 4 semi-trucks?
A. Lot.
My current theory (via twitter):

Oh! Since they *do* have 4 kids, maybe they are into some really freaky s.ex toys & gadgets (etc) & THAT is what all these semis are for?

Yeah. That's GOT TO BE RIGHT, right?
Because I am a reponsible neighbor, I followed it with this:

That's it! It's semi-truck after semi-truck of se.x toys! OMG! TELL THE NEIGHBORS! HIDE THE CHILDREN!

Then yesterday, I think I saw Mr. New Next Door Neighbor with the Nice Church People Welcome Wagon... I'm guessing they don't know about the sex toy habit. Which is why you should always spy on your neighbors, so you don't go barging into a 2-story home full of dildos.

File this under: Things To Delete Before Telling New Neighbor About My Blog.

28 August 2009

7 Quick Takes: I Really Don't Eat My Neighbors, Swomise.

Dark nail polish is pretty much the only thing I can get away with without looking like a hooker. And really? It's still borderline hooker. But hey... aren't we ALL borderline hookers? No?

Or Black?

Doesn't REALLY matter since I bought them both.

I just chipped my index fingernail's polish on my left hand while uploading the picture of my left hand. Clearly it's a little too emo for blog posts. Get over it, hand.

Wow. I'm clearly losing my marbles - or I really do have an idle hand...

TOTALLY related note:

Actually, that's not a "note" at all... that's a picture.

And it's a picture of my dinner from two nights ago. Eh, scratch that too - I ate it again last night.


Recipe as follows:
1 lb. ground beef
1/4 cup bread crumbs (I use the Italian ones - for obvious reasons...)
Dash of garlic powder
Dash of onion powder
Dash (or 4) of red pepper flakes
1-2 eggs (depending on size)
Spaghetti Sauce

Mix dry ingredients with meat. Form balls (hahahahahahahahaha - i'm really a 6-year-old boy, *cough*.. sorry..ahem) and place in a pre-heated pan lightly coated with cooking spray. Cook evenly on all sides, turning frequently. Once the balls are thoroughly cooked, pour in 26-30 ounces of your preferred spaghetti sauce (I use Hunts w/ roasted garlic...). Allow to simmer on medium/low for about 15-20 minutes.

Brown sourdough bread.
Cut balls in half (ouch) and sprinkle 4-cheese Italian blend over top before cutting in half and having to use a frickin' fork because this thing is super messy.
All messy food is good.
Rule. Of. Life.

We have leftovers.
We also have new neighbors.
Wonder how the new neighbors would feel about my old leftovers. I assure you they [the leftovers] are yummy.
I'd assure you the neighbors are yummy, too... I just haven't tasted them first hand.
I always quality test-taste my neighbors.
It's in the covenants.
I'm not making any of this up.
I really do have leftovers...

Speaking of tasty neighbors that I haven't tasted introduced myself to yet and probably won't until one day when I wander out to the mailbox with two half-naked children and I'm in my pajamas and it's 2 in the afternoon and I haven't showered... on a Wednesday..., what's the appropriate "wait time" for said introductions?

These delicious kind people have relocated here from... eh... Wyoming? Or something crazy like that... It's either Wyoming or Nova Scotia. I can't recall at the moment.
They've had a barrage of people in-and-out-and-in-and-out-and-over-and-WhatAreYouPeopleBuildingOverThere,ACircus? The typical Lowes delivery (or THREE?!?), cable, contractors, maids (le sigh...), moving vans galore... you get the picture. They are Air Force. The whole friggin street/neighborhood is Air Force - I kid you not. (i like it - tell NO ONE).
I saw Him once... I think... not totally sure about that, but he was busy speaking to the Neighbors Who Hate Our Dogs (grrrrreat) and I was....er... jamming out in my car post-grocery run? Yeah. I was. And I didn't stop... oops.

When do I suck it up and invade their new space with some delicious brownies? (ps - they have 4 kids, haven't seen (or heard) one yet... nor have I seen the wifey... I'm guessing they aren't like MOVED IN moved in...)
Time frames people, I need time frames!

You do realize that by this time next week we will be ONE FLIPPIN' day away from the start of college football?
Better yet...
SEC Football?
(she doesn't blog - I know, I know... those people DO exist)

And the congregation said - Amen.

More Quick Takes @ Conversion Diary

26 August 2009

Wordless Wednesday: Miss Universe Edition

Whoever this chick was/is... Chase was really into her...

I didn't stick around the channel long enough to figure out if she won, nor can I even remember what "country" she is... but if she DID win, Chase has a future in... um...  swooning over the most beautiful woman?
That's my boy.

Dear Chase,
Lose the stuffed animals before chasing after Miss Universe Material.

(There's a reason why I don't do 'Wordless Wednesdays' - I can't shut my face)

(Mom Job Points to anyone who wants to tell me what country this lovely lady is... Chase needs to know where to fly to - and I don't feel like googling)

24 August 2009

Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma Myyyy Mirena.

I feel like I'm smuggling some ultra-awesome, covert weapon of mass destruction, yet the size of a snicker's fun-sized bar, in my cervix. Kinda like that tiny gun Will Smith's character carries in the beginning of the first "Men in Black"? Tons of power within Itty-bittyLivingSpace (think: Aladdin's Genie on that last part... love me some Robin Williams) 

(oh, fun fact: he ad-libbed most of the Genie - so much so that they had over 16 hours of sound from him alone.) 
(additional fun facts from Robin Williams: favorite quotes:
 "Cocaine is God's way of telling you you make way too much money"
"Ah, yes, divorce, from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man's genitals through his wallet."
"See, the problem is that God gave men both a brain and a penis, and only enough blood for one to work at a time."
"A woman would never make a nuclear bomb. They would never make a weapon that kills, no, no. They'd make a weapon that makes you feel bad for a while.")
(I have SOOOOO many more favorites.... Alas, another time... le sigh.)

So, my uterus.

I violated it.

It's not the first time though, so it expects this type of behavior from me. AND BOY, does it like to show how pissed it is. It's all "honey, I feel like you don't appreciate me" and "geez... you care about everything else but me" and when it comes around to That Time, it... like most women, goes all "I'm going to murder your face off" and kicks and screams and slams the frig door in my face and I'm all "dude. WHAT.EVER."

Since some of you crazies don't follow moi on Twatter, here's a few snip-its:

Me = waiting room, enters an OBVIOUSLY first time soon-to-be mother and her husband , *cue swooning* over pixelated grey photos of their precious Gift:

Woman in Ob office looking @ ultrasound photo "I just can't believe she's grown!". Repeat. 15 times. Yes lady - THEY GROW.

OMG - THEY GROW??!?!?!???!?!!!!!?!?!?!??????????????????
Holy Bananas, people. You aren't just getting fatter.
She'll probably name her Dime or Nickel. Quarter needs a playmate (and I'm not linking that because YOU need to be a better Mom Job Stalker. Get. To. It.)

Then we have a "Picture This Story":
I am told to undress from the waist down. Sorry ladies and gents, but I am obligated to tell you that they suggest you get the Mirena placed (seriously, placed? inserted? shoved in?) while you are Being Visited... so there I am... Being Visited... undressed... and Chase is RUNNING AROUND THE ROOM WITH THE VAGINAL JELLY. Can't Chase him - risk gigantic mess. I can yell - mildly effective. Good thing I brought the "well-behaved" child...

At some point, he realized the vagina jelly didn't taste all that great (joke) and he decided to join me on the exam table. Only thing - he ripped at the only shred of covering I had over my lower regions to get up there. 

Frickin' Brilliant.

I am now in mid-mental-debate as to whether I should just throw the thing away, rip off a long strip and wear it Brazilian Bikini Style or make a paper snowflake.

I'm not telling which one I chose.

Then Dr. Violate Your Insides came in - discussed the Mirena with me, and asked me to spread em. Oh. Right... *cough*... this goes THERE.... er... can't I just take it home with me and think about it?

He remarked about my cervical placement... apparently it's flat or low or Not Where It Should Be or Something... here's the exact tweet:

Dr. said "wow" in regards to my cervical placement. I'm going to take this as the highest of gynecological compliments.

You know... "wow" is what I am accustomed to hearing from people starring at my lady parts. (SORRY MOM... ) (how many of you consider your relatives when writing a post?) (I "consider" them... consider how MORTIFIED they will be... hehe)

Dr. McViolater then mutilated his way into my cervical floor and nudged some crazy ninja stuff up cozy with the bottom of my uterus.
My reaction:

Um. <|><£|{€£,£?~£¥~|{£¥€,€}\€!::?@&(&)&?:\£+€~\\<. OUCH!

Yeah. That's pretty much Not English.

Dr. McViolater explained that due to my Insides and Whatnot, I'd probably hurt more. Gah-reat.

I went to CVS post-maul and browsed nail polish while waiting on my antibiotic spiked with pain "I like pleasure spiked with pain, music is my aeroplane....." aaaaaaaaadddderrrrrrrralllllllllll

Oh. Yes. Nail polish... I looked like a schizo by the time I left - about 6 different colors streaked across different nails. I heart nail polish. I bought hair accessories instead. Took me two seconds to pick those out... I'm an odd duck.

Yeah. I've been Mirena'd.
Here's my Mirena Christmas Wish List:
  • No babies.
  • No babies.
  • No babies.
  • Boooooooooooobies (it's LIKELY and I can DREAM so SHUT YOUR FACE)
  • Weight gain
  • No babies.
  • Boobies.
How do you feel about grey metallic nail polish?

Yes, I keep a box of Vanilla Wafers in my car. LOOK AT THE POLISH. Freaks.
(Oh, just follow me on Twatter already: http://twitter.com/themomjob)

22 August 2009

As Seen In My Closet

I came home from the "Sit On Tiny Chairs" Night at Conner's preschool (slash church), and immediately had to get out of my Grown Up Clothes.

Off to the closet to undress I did go, only to find this:

Not in total understandment as to why my metal coat rack (never been installed in this house... used it in college) was hanging oddly on a clothes rack, I yelled out "what happened in the closet?"

Mike returned "I don't know..."

Conner came running with a grin on his face.

He exclaimed "You put all the clothes like this (stretches both of his hands out length wise) and then you do this (let one side go) and then the clothes go like this (uses his hands to show me long ways...) and it is JUST LIKE IN THE 'MMERCIAL!"

I immediately knew he was referring to this "mmercial" (commercial):

(I had to google  "hanging thing as seen on tv" and then "clothing space saver hanging thing as seen on tv" - the second one worked...)

It's a wonder hanger!

He retold the story a few times with variations like "just like I see on the t.v." and "it's good for your clothes".

Conner was ultra-proud and we all had a laugh (well... Conner and I had a good chuckle).

And not to leave Chase out, apparently while I was gone he walked around asking "Momma? Where is you?" - how DARE I leave the house? Gasp.

20 August 2009

7 Quick Takes: READ THE MANUAL


Walking into preschool today with both the boys, I notice a ginormously pregnant woman with a baby about Chase's age on one hip and a little boy about a year younger than Conner walking beside her holding her hand.

First, I'd like to point out that I believe the only reason other moms are so mesmerized by hugely preggos is because we look at them and think "DEAR JESUS?!?!? WAS I REALLY THAT BIG?!?!?!?". Seriously. It's not that you are a whale, we are just amazed that we were that big and how we kept wondering why OTHER people were starring at us.


It's a good 60 yards from my car to the door. About halfway there I hear the little boy cough once, no biggie, but it was loud enough to catch my attention.

Then, as we get closer and are more condensed for filing in the door, the boy starts coughing in a deep, rattling, very very conjested cough full of phlem and snot and all things nasty. I stop short of turning around, sticking my finger in her face and exclaiming "GO HOME". Just when I think I might be overreacting - the baby sneezes alllllll ova da place.


I UNDERSTAND you are huge and pregnant and just want a break, but DUDETTE! Your kids are both OBVIOUSLY sick.
Didn't she read the manual?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. It's nice to have Conner at school.

The boys won't sit still for the life of me for a photo-op, but just the other day, as I was finishing up my lunch, I looked down and realize they are lined up against the wall. And NOT MOVING. AND... they both have their butts covered. Those are my only requirements for a photo. Well, except that one with Conner and my boots in which I had to draw pants on him. 

Life's all about exceptions.

The bear is Chase's. He has some freaky infatuation with stuffed animals lately. Hope he doesn't turn out to be a Furry (or whatever the crap they call those people).

Speaking of furry and Chase, I DID cut his hair. He looks 12. He also seems to enjoy it because it means he isn't sweating all the time - just some of the time.

Totally gross of me to even post this on Teh Internets... but it's just weird. 

Conner came to me Thursday morning (yesterday) with about a 3rd of a half of a peanut in his hand. Puzzled, I asked where it came from and he said "I think it came out of me".

Even MORE puzzled (since we don't have any peanuts in the house...) I said "thanks" and sent him on his way back to the playroom. It took me a minute to realize that this might be the reason he's been "choking" on food all week... as in... he'd eat a normal sized meal and then mid-way through, have a gag reflex that would sometimes result in him actually throwing up. But it was always during meals and this only happened about 3-4 times. PLUS, he's been insistently more thirsty this week...

I called out to the playroom "Conner, did this come out of your throat?!?".

"Yes, mom!" he returned.

Well, ok then.
A peanut was stuck. In his throat. Since last Friday.

Many of you have asked how I am doing with The Weight and The Sick, and I am happy to report that I have stopped not-keeping-things-down. However, I can't BUDGE on the scale. The number stopped plummeting, but will not go up. At least, not yet.

I have an appointment this month with my endocrinologist as well as my G.I. and some semi-sketchy blood work to pour over with them.

As far as trying to gain weight, I'm drinking these stupid "milkshakes" 3 times a day. I've got to say - I am positively SICK of them. I have "good" ones and "there's no way I can finish this" ones.

The "good" ones are basically:
12 ounces Whole Milk (I usually drink 2%, but whole is yummy and full of fat... duh)
1 package Carnation Instant Breakfast
1-2 scoops Lots Of Fat Ice Cream
Then I shake it. Sha-sha-sha-sha-shakkke it.

Doesn't sound to bad, right?
Try doing it 3 times a day for 2 weeks. NOT COOL.

I'm considering volunteering at a local hospital. I've always been very interested in the medical field and my Dream Job involves me using my degree to do crisis management or patient relations or physician relations (a liaison between one of those parties and the hospital - you being the Voice of The Hospital). 


It only requires 4 hours a week and I can do it any day of the week. I'm thinking Saturdays or Sundays. 

OBVIOUSLY, I know it won't be "medical" related, but I don't have a medical degree, so what I am interested in is "hospital politics". Also, it's kind of a way for me to pay back all those who were so nice to my family when Chase was sick. I know what is it like to be in That Place and That Low and see a smiling face and someone willing to help you do even the smallest of things (directions, carry a bag, entertain a child for 2.5 seconds...).

Anyone ever done this or know anything about it?

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary.

19 August 2009

Live Blogging ISH of "Parents Night" and Conner's "Meet My Teacher"

(Update: I updated "College Dorm Shopping Heaven" with some great ideas and helpful tools provided by Bed, Bath & Beyond over on The Mom Job Review. If you've found this site by searching for YOUR college must-haves (since it's my most popular post according to Google Analytics right now...) I'd sooooo suggest heading over there! Also, as soon as I'm 100% again, I'll be hosting a giveaway of some major swag provided by BB&B!!)

Now back to our regularly scheduled bloggy blog:
Last night was, wait... let me go find the paper so I can call it by its proper title... ah - "Parents Night". Which should really be more appropriately titled any of the following:

  •  "Parent Night" (not plural seeing as children are not welcome and they do not provide daycare and we live in a city heavy with military and people who don't have arm fulls of family to help keep the kids, so it ends up with one parent being left in the dark...)
  •  "We Do Not Believe That You Will Read The Manual, So We Are Going to Read It To You As Well As Degrade You About Not Reading It on Your Own" Night
  •  "Let's Keep You Out Till 8:30 On A School Night" Night
  •  "Sit in Tiny Chairs" Night
  • "Meet the Teacher" Night.

For PR reasons, I'd recommend the last one. Although the second is soooo dang catchy, but we are all about saving ink, right?

So, they basically read this manual to you a-la "SATs during school" style. You know "do not open this booklet till I say the time has begun. This is a timed test so please keep track of your progress. It is now 10, this test will begin at 10:05 and lasts for 25 minutes - MEANING it will end at 10:30 because DUH - you can't do math, which we will learn from the math portion of this test. Now.... let me read you 3 whole paragraphs on how to properly fill in a bubble with a pencil, because we don't test for that..."

And then they read it.

And it's great.

Here's a snip it of internal dialogue from about 2 minutes in:

Me: "Why won't Twitter pull up...."
Them: "No one reads the manual, everyone should read the manual, let me highlight what is in the manual since we just don't believe you people... Ok, parking... is..."
Me: "Oh! Score! FB is working..."Amanda is not paying attention... should I or shouldn't I read the manual..."
Them: ...oh... who knows what they were saying...
Me: "Wow... the weather should be stormy tomorrow through Friday... 90 again on Saturday but then back into the upper 80s. Not bad... Let's check on Twitter again"


You know God is trying to tell you something when you show up AN HOUR EARLY for this meeting AT CHURCH. It was good 'me' time though, and I managed to keep it together. Which is good.. seeing as I've been "keeping it together" for the last day + by doing anything I can get my fingers on. 
And then when I thought I might lose it? Another mommy friend from Conner's class last year came walking around the corner. She was an hour early, too. Weird.


Conner's teacher is the "loving but stern" type - exactly what he needs! She reminds me of my mom. She seems to know what is typical childlike behavior and what needs to be dealt with in a firm manner. I appreciate ALL people like this in Conner's life. He needs it round-the-clock.

At one point she said "I won't call you if it is typical childhood disobedience, I will call if the child is habitually bad..."

I thought "Should I tell her I have free nights and weekends?"

They use a red light system: green =  good, yellow = warning, red = Conner.

At this age, they start doing specific bath room times. I have NEVER agreed with this logic. There is no other time than in school that you are told outright "Frickin HOLD IT" and for children? This must be especially hard. If you have to go, then go! I do understand not letting them abuse it though.
Think about it - yes, there are times you have to hold it in Big People World - but you are AN ADULT and can DO SO. In middle/high school? I risked many a pair of pants because of those retarded rules.
"Luckily", I got Conner out because of his medication which can make him go from "no" to "NOW" in a few seconds - easily.

The teacher had us draw a picture of our children for them to see on Friday (first full day) (yeah, I know.. she made us COLOR). Here's mine:

Here's what I considered:


Mrs. Conner's Teacher gave me her email address. I told her I could write her a novel about Conner's behavior issues as well as everything we have tried and also his medical crap right now. 
I momentarily contemplated referring her to my blog archives....

They use a book called "Writing Without Tears"
I call that "typing".

She said the parties will be "stress-free". I've never THOUGHT of bringing vodka. Good call, Mrs. Conner's Teacher, GOOD CALL.

Today, after our "hour run" of school (also known as: WASTE OF TIME), I overheard a mother calling her son. She yelled out "Quarter!" "Quarter come here". I was right beside her. There's very little chance this was a mistake.


He got a slap bracelet. Apparently, they are no longer considered "lethal".

15 August 2009

Table For None

Frank Sinatra still makes me hungry to this day.

Dim lights, twilight ceiling, leopard print lap napkins and tables brimmed with wine glasses. Snobby chefs and a bustling wait staff - but only too busy behind the swinging door. Clients do not like a waiter that looks too busy.

"The Lady Is a Tramp" still makes me want to draw lobster butter over an open flame. It still makes me walk briskly and set plates down without even the quietest of noise. The dining room is not that different from a ballet stage - featuring quick, fluid movements that all appear planned.

Those starry-eyed couples, swooning over lemon-drop martinis and a well-picked Chardonnay still come to mind when my iPod shuffles to "Witchcraft"...

Something about that job trained me for life. Not all of life, but little parts. In that restaurant, I realized how effective a confident, yet persuading, presence can be. 

How the classics are well-received and understood in the right setting. How elegant the simple things can be if they are overly priced.... or at least... seem elegant. That money can buy you lobster, but not a dinner date. That the right client seems like the right client until you are left with the tab and they are with another business partner at that same 400 dollar table two days later.

That life is cut-throat, sometimes.

That no matter how great the music is, it's still crazy in the kitchen.

12 August 2009

In Which I Deliver Non-Pg-13ness...

I have a few confessions people - I'm not very PG-13 in real life.

I CAN be, but really? Pfft.


But, I have an un-dieing urge to title a blog post Just. Like. This.

Consider this my version of an X-rated blogroll AND a disclaimer for anything I manage to say or link to for this post. You've been warned / fluffed.

On this blogroll, is afore-linked The Bloggess. She's f'in psycho in all the right ways. Heart her face. Seriously. Even when she gets all stabby or stalks William Shatner on Twitter, it couldn't be more spot-on with my Own Personal Brand Of Crazy.

Oooh... and her "advice" column is frickin' sweet and I swoon her for doing these. Like last week, she gave invaluable advice about ridding man stains. A must read for any dutiful housewife.

In My Brand Of Crazy things like this make my week:

Blondie commented on Dear Thyroid, I'd Like To Ask You to LEAVE (a less than stellar post about the stalkings of a starved sick girl dosed up on Legal Crack better known as Phenergran). She wrote:
I love pineapple on my pizza. Heck, i love peanut butter and pineapple sandwiches (chew on that one for a while).
My sister is anorexic - has been since she was at Auburn (close to 17 years). She's 5'6" and weighs about 95. Scary, huh?
So...you really aren't pregnant? If this is your thyroid, I would ask to have it removed from the premises - not just press charges!!
And yeah, reading that blog was similar to what I would expect an acid trip to feel like! lol.

I replied:
@Blondie - FINALLY, someone normal who likes pineapple.

Second, I'm sorry about your sister. Don't let her read my blog. Word on the street - I poke fun at anorexics while talking about how good food is. Probably not something she'll be into...

Third, I'm REALLY NOT PREGNANT. Sheesh, people. I've put in an eviction notice for the thyroid. It's not compliant.

Fourth, I have NEVER in my life received such an awesome compliment. I want to shower you with gold coins and leprechauns. TRUE STORY.

I'm sorry, but I have to ask this: DO COMPLIMENTS GET ANY BETTER?
The answer is no, my dears, no they do not.

And she's right. My writing is a little like what I'd expect an acid trip would be. Except, I've never done acid - so I'm kinda having to guess what's it's like too. But they have movies for these things people. And in those movies - stuff is all spinny and crazy and people are laughing and things appear from no where and really? That's pretty much me in a nutshell.

I'm going to try not to put that on my resume, but seriously... it'll be hard.

Interviewer: "So, Mrs. Amanda (yes they will call me that, shut your face) - tell me a little about yourself..."
Me: "Well, Mr. Interviewer (yes, I'll return the favor and call him/her whatever made up name they want to be called... say they choose "Mrs. FluffyPants", then so she shall be called! Mark this one under "Amanda's Fail Safe Interview Tips". You are welcome)... sorry, MRS. Fluffypants - couldn't tell you were a chick. My apologies. I would describe myself as passionate, creative and much like an acid trip."

The interview would be over and the job would be mine.
For serious.

And then.. there's Crissy from CrissysPage. She gets mad props in my book (I typed "boob" the first time - Crissy would approve) for having an entire site in which she speaks in third person. Amanda is envious she didn't think of this first for she is known for speaking in 3rd person until someone TOTALLY rude breaks her Happy Place. 

Stupid Happy Place Breakers. For. SHAME.

Crissy also doesn't hold back from posting pictures of her placenta, posting cleavage shots her Mister takes, how to totally hate on the home owner's association and/or historical people and/or neighbors and/or complete strangers... oh, and talking about bum sex (yes Crissy, that's gross - butT to each their own) (oooohhhh... sorry, Mom) (wait, not sorry - just be glad you raised a daughter that thinks that's gross) (extra mom points on the mom-sume) (go ahead and call your friends, this is important stuff here).

So, yeah. Visit her too.

Those are my top two. I don't want to taint the pool by giving more than that for now.

11 August 2009

This Is A Test

Boy, how I wish this were only a test. Maybe, it's a test I have to endure, just something I have to get through to come out the person He wants me to be. The problem is that there are no easy answers. It's just one long fill-in-the-blank without an answer guide.

10 August 2009

Not Me! Mother Fail OR A Month Early -Your Call.

Not Me! Monday, hosted by MckMama herself!

Ok, so you are all wondering (humor me..) what happened with Conner's Pulmonology appointment last week right? Well, you'll have to keep wondering.

BECAUSE - it's Not Me! who got dressed, loading 2 screaming banshee's in the car, drove 2 hours to Birmingham (went to have blood work done myself for the craziness that ensues) only to be told that I'm about a month early.
I win.

Apparently, I put it on the calendar on my phone (with alert reminder) for the original appointment before God Did His Thing and set Donya in motion to get the who thing moved up. Yeah... I never deleted the first appointment and it's reminder from my phone... which was for August 5th.... oops. (REAL follow-up in September! Remind me.)

I did not eat a pulled pork BBQ sandwich for breakfast this morning (from Jim N' Nicks) (swoon)

I most certainly did not! watch Army Wives last night.

On the same note, I didn't totally love it either (hehe)

Yesterday, it was NOT ME! that found herself watching 2 back-to-back episodes of Bridezillas. I just don't get how any one could A) agree to go on a show featuring how dramatic/spoiled/OCD/demented they are all the while trashing their family and embarrassing their husband-to-be and B) how any one could BE that b**chy!

Who hasn't gone grocery shopping in 9 days AND hasn't cooked a meal in over 7? Not me! (but I haven't been sick for 7 of those either... so.)

I'm not still upset over my computer being shipped to No Where Land Texas. (sniff!)

I'd say it's me that's a little upset about not taking Conner to get new clothes for preschool - but he is still in 2T/3T clothes and I can't justify buying more of those - so, it's not... me...sigh...

Pandora Radio app for the iPhone isn't total awesomesauce, and I didn't spend 3.5 hours listening to it last night before falling asleep. Nope! Not me!

My sweet little Chase doesn't click like a dolphin. I'm not proud of his new found party trick nor do I think it's really frickin' neat.

And lastly, it's not me that's a little stressed right now but finding comfort in the solace of my pantry. Yummers. Guess it's also not me that needs to go fill it up! (and not so bad since I have some weight to gain back!!!)

08 August 2009

And Then The Internets Hated Me

Ugh. Teh Internets hate me.

First, twitter failed me. Not you - It failed me.
I get up in the morning and am all "ooohhh, let's see what the world did while I was sleeping" and do you know what twitter told me? NOTHING! How in Pete's am I supposed to know what happened if I don't have TWITTER?

Oh, right.... news... yeahhhh...
Noggin DOES NOT have a news crawl!
Wait - Noggin SOOOOO needs a news crawl.
Work on that, Noggin.

Then, as I twittered about - my computer is allergic to me and has decided to hate me for eternity. Alas, it's just going to have to suck it up and buy some benadryl, which I mean... yeah.. it'll be drunk on antihistamines alot, but hey... so am I... (JOKE. geez). No one can possibly like the feeling that gives you? It's nasty. (believe me, I know - did you know phenergran is really an antihistamine approved as a nausea medication? I got my my degree from Google University)

It started off with Conner removing the 'b' key, and from there progressed it's desire for not wanting to charge into "amanda-has-to-hold-my-hand-at-all-times-if-she-cares-about-getting-on-Teh-Internets". And people? I so care about the INTERNETS!

THEN, it kicked its feet like Conner after, well... everything, and went all Nutso Libre on me.

I do not need to babysit my computer - it's practically brand new!

I told on it over at HP, and they are going to get it fixed. HOWEVER, never guess who uses 2-3 business day delivery??? EEKS! THEY DO!

That's right! They are going to take my COMPUTER AWAY FROM ME for around 6 full days in which they won't even be working on it, but rather it'll be in someone's truck. Ugh.

Plus the time it takes to actually rip out the port and shove in a new one? Pffttt. Just shoot me why don't you! I'm going to need therapy. I really hope that's in my warranty with HP - Post-YoujusttookmycomputerAWAY Stress Disorder. Look it up, ge'ez.

Soooooooooooooooooo. After I scheduled for the amazing (sarcasm) people at HP to steal my computer from me, it decided to... well... do this:

It may not look like much, but these aren't my settings. It's like getting dressed in someone else's closet - and she's skanky.
And all those shortcut buttons? Yeah. They don't work. If you click them, it downloads that particular program. Which is great and all, but it doesn't save. This is a "temporary setting" and every time I shut down or re-boot, it takes about 10 minutes to load and then to get online each time I have to DOWNLOAD MY BROSWER.
Oh, and my files?
Oh! And to fix it on my own? I have to do all this:

not happening. (and just so you know? there's a step 1 and 3)

HP (hewlett-packard, not harry potter) doesn't know it yet (unless you are reading this HP, in which case, dudes? you don't do overnight or express? SERIOUSLY? Apple had my stuff turned around in a day. GET. WITH. IT.), but they will be addressing the Not Booting Properly issue. HECK! They might even be giving me a 'b' key.

Don't tell them Conner did it. (hp, you didn't see that)

04 August 2009

Dear Thyroid, I'd Like To Ask You to LEAVE

The only good thing about tonight is that I have the freedom to order whatever food I want as long as I keep it down. It's the last part I am having problems with, oh and as for the first part? Yeah, I live in Montgomery. So... it's either pizza or pizza.

I'll take pizza.

OHHhhhhh, I bet this means I get to order whatever I want ON the pizza. Score.
Which, I mean, I love me some green peppers and mushrooms and all - but I am a pizza FREAK. Like that kid that did whip-its out of the Ready Whip can WAY too many times? My pizzas look like that kid's brains.

True Story.

So, if I CAN order whatever I want - it'd (and now is, since I wrote this before I ordered and now I am editing but you didn't know that till I typed this so I should have just left it alone, but sometimes I type and then don't want to delete...) be thin crust, heavy sauce. I also want pepperoni and PINEAPPLE. Yummers. I am also a firm believe that you can put ANYTHING on a pizza, even if you'd normally not eat those things together - so I'd also like some spinach and banana peppers.

This is actually helping - the "writing out of the food" is.

I have been completely unable to keep anything down for a full 5 days. It's absolutely sickening, seriously.
The insomnia is major, but nothing I haven't dealt with before.
The hot flashes make me think I'm 65.
I am not, in fact, 65.

I'm barely 25. Ok, that's a lie. I'm a "solid" 25 seeing as this is August and that's close enough to 6 months out from my birth month. That's right. I get a whole month.

Wait. That's not true. I'm not a big birthday person. I mean, I'm as "birthday-ey" as the next person, really. I guess I've never expected much from them because my birthday was ALWAYS during either A.E.A. (HAA! can you believe I remembered that abbreviation?) aka SPRING BREAK or it landed on a holy holiday like Good Friday or Easter. Noteworthy: you are hanging out with the wrong people if they are ok with getting you wasted on one of God's extra special days. So. Yeah.

Also, along with not being able to eat OR really drink, and not sleeping... and feeling like an old hag.... my brain is this ball of mush. Woot.

In case you are wondering what the penis I am talking about, post-nursing with Conner, I got in a little altercation with my thyroid. It beat me pretty badly but for some reason or another the cops wouldn't let me press charges against myself. Freaks. Probably hung out with that kid hitting the Ready Whip can...

And now? Well, now post-nursing-Chase, I am down to a number on the scale that would make A) anorexics jealous B) healthy people think I am one of those anorexics and C) me totally freak out because I've felt "off" for several weeks and have been in complete denial about getting on the scale for fear that it would be a number lower than what I deem acceptable (ps - that means it's not near a number that can be comfortably rounded to "95") (pps - I am 4 freaking 10 people, I'm SUPPOSED to weigh 95. Stop doing weird numbers in your head and purging your lunch.)

Thanks to the Phenergran, I am now going to EAT THIS PIZZA OFF THE PLANET. That sounds dangerous. DANGEROUSLY YUMMY! (Amanda, just stop.) (hey! who said that?)

Oh, and don't you think the pizza guy is going to laugh his face off at an 83 pound girl ripping the pizza out of his hands and starts eating at the door while shoving money in his face?
Yeah, I do.

02 August 2009

Yeah.... Interesting Isn't The Word.

The next two weeks of summer should be interesting.

And by "interesting", I mean I am both busy and not and I really REALLY hope Conner doesn't take on that Special Form of Monster that he does so well because people, he's got 2.5 weeks till school starts back. That's approximately 2.4 weeks too far away.

Well, that's kinda a lie.

I hate yanking him out of bed, shoving food in front of him, and throwing clothes on him, only to rush him off to school and then wait an entire 2.5 hours to go get him. Just seems like a lot of work for nothing. But, it's not "nothing" it's "preschool" and not just ANY pre-school, but Pre-4. That's practically college, right?


And this year, I get to do it 3 times a week instead of two. I'm not complaining. Yet.

So this time last year, I was having some wishy-washy feelings about him starting school for the first time. TOTALLY justifiable as he turned out to be exactly what I was afraid of - "that kid". That annoying one in Time Out for un-Godly amounts of time. The one that does time in the Principal's office when - get this - they don't even technically HAVE one because it's CHURCH and Conner is acting up like THAT in GOD'S HOUSE. For shame, kid, FOR. SHAME.

You don't just have to answer to me, Conner, but God might be a little ticked off that you knocked over the last 3 people in your path and planned a massacre with your sidekick to shove the entire play table into the wall throwing 6 to 8 of your classmates into last week's coloring project. Brought to you by the letter "F". Yup, the letter "f"...

Ya know... no pressure to straighten up your act kid. I did get you baptized, but that's only going to last for a bit. I'm not sure on God's age limit for "youth", but I get the feeling you are on his "special circumstances" list.

Oh that's horrible of me to say.

Conner's on MY "special circumstances" list.

So, yeah.

Next week is his first pulmonology check-up - yup, it's been almost 3 months! That's a totally separate update/post in itself, which will OBVIOUSLY happen post-checkup (because I'm known for my follow through on my blog, right? stop laughing. seriously.).
I get the pleasure of driving to Birmingham all by my lonesome and then driving back the same day. It occurred to me to stay overnight, but I positively despise packing and unpacking for ONE FREAKING night by myself. Especially when said night will last all of 2 hours before bed time...

That breaks up the week pretty well.

Then, next week I might have a mini-stroke because my calendar is wide open and it'll probably be 145 degrees outside OR tornadoe-ing OR 42 and raining. WHO KNOWS!? Then again, I'm implying that my children enjoy playing outside. Strike that. CONNER doesn't enjoy playing outside. Chase is WAY busy eating sand. From the sand box. Where the spiders live.

I rock at life.
Chase just likes to rock:

(Hehehe. He likes my iphone/ipod.)

The week after that is Conner's first day of school. This one hour gig that I didn't freak out about at all last year. Yeah....

Guess summer's over?
(When's September?)

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