YummY! Down on This

All Moved!!!

2006-04-13T19:14:00.000-07:00

http://yummydown.com

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The Good News and the Bad News

2006-04-11T20:56:00.000-07:00

As if you coudln't tell by the title, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.

The good news is that some saint bought me a domain. I opened my email to a letter that started “Hey you. I did something today, hope it doesn't offend you.”

I was many things, but offended wasn’t one of them!!!

I don’t know how to work the damn thing, but I’m learning.

I’ve set up a new blog using WordPress, and am in the process of moving all the archives here over to there. That is tedious! I have A LOT of work to do with that cause the import function wont work, and I don’t even want to waste time figuring out why. Currently I’m at 11 of 179 posts!

After I get everything over there and a template up that I enjoy (the one there currently is just a placeholder to keep it from looking TOO drab while I move), THAT will be my blog, and yummydown.blogspot.com will be no more, and Yummydown.com will be officially born!!!!!!!!!!!

Meanwhile, if you want to see any of the old posts here without playing in the archives, visiting yummydown.com will probably let you see some of them.

The hard part is going to be getting it skinned like I want it. I’m not design savvy like Kittyn or Utopia, and it’s A LOT more complicated than a blogger skin. At least to me it is.

Meanwhile, while still floating on the high of the domain news yesterday, it was about 1am, and I went in to feed my rats. I usually feed them right before I go to bed.

When I turned the light on, Buddy didn’t come to the bars of his cage. I tapped on his bars and he sill didn’t come. I stood on my tip-toes and peeped into his house, and he wasn’t in it.

Oh shit, I though, Buddy has gotten out in the house!!!

He’s done that before, while he was still at the pet store. I took the cage down and was about to yell at Robert that he was out. “Oh shit,” I yelled, but before I could say “Buddy’s missing,” I saw him, curled around his food bowl, stiff and unmoving.

Instead of yelling, “Oh shit, Buddy’s missing” I yelled “Oh shit, Buddy’s dead.”

Then I burst into tears, and I’ve been crying off an on ever since. Even at work today.

I was sitting on the ribbon aisle, trying to shelve some ribbon, and thinking about finding Buddy, and how his eyes were still open, and a customer came up to me and asked where something was, and I just started crying, but was trying to hold it back, so my answer was kind of like, “Its *sob* over*sob* by*sob* the*sob* baskets*sob* in*sob* the*sob* back*snot snort*”

The customer looked horrified and said, “That’s okay, honey, I’ll find it” while holding her hands out toward me and backing away slowly like I was a dangerous animal.

I’m having a hard time with this death, because he wasn’t even SICK. I mean, day before yesterday he was acting the same as he had ever day of his life, then last night it was just *poof* and he was gone.

-sigh-

There’s where it sucks to have pet rats. They live such short little lives.

PS. Go VOTE SOMEONE OFF THE ISLAND. This time you should NOT vote for me.

I'm a Kind and Caring person.....really

2006-04-09T19:11:00.000-07:00

Yuck. Tummy nasties.

So, yesterday and the day before I was feeling horrid.

When I got home from work Friday, I cooked and ate supper, then felt bad, so I lay down and slept until a little after 8, then I got up and washed dishes and went back to bed. I felt like crap.

Saturday, Robert woke me up at 8am. He had planned to go play Putt-putt, then for us to go eat KFC before work.

We had coupons for the mini-golf, play from 9-5, as many holes as you want, and 12 free tokens to the arcade.

Well, we got there at 9 and find out the place doesn’t open until 10!!

Robert was angry.

I wanted to go back home. I felt bad.

Well, we went home, Robert wanted to play Mario Party, so I did. I still felt bad.

I asked him to let me stay home from work.

No.

We went out to KFC for lunch. It was good, but after I ate it my tummy hurt REALLY badly. I wanted to go back home and go to bed. Again, I asked if I could stay home from work today.

Again, no.

Well, coming out of the parking lot, we got a flat. Robert called his dad. His dad took me to work. I worked all day with a tummy ache, feeling tired and weak and dizzy.

After work at 9pm we went grocery shopping. I put away the groceries, checked my e-mail and went to bed.

Today....Robert didn’t feel well. He told me he didn’t feel well.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you know how I felt yesterday.”

He held out his arm. “I’m shaking,” he said, “and I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“Poor thing.” I said, just as any concerned and caring wife would say. “You want to come to work with me today? It will be fun. You can help customers, climb some ladders, lift some heavy boxes.”

He just gave me a look.

“I feel REALLY bad” he said. Like he felt so much worse than I did yesterday.

Of course he does. I mean, he only caught it from me to begin with.

I bet if he still feels “really bad” tomorrow he’ll call in sick to work.

Pussy.

---

Meanwhile, today was one of THOSE days at work. Customers being fucktards. Me being pulled in 80 directions at once.

Not to mention, one of my friends was really emotionally hurt by her boyfriend of 2 years (who she lives with) and it made me want to go rip the guys nuts off and shove them down his throat before dousing him in gas and setting him on fire.

Fucker.

I don’t like it when my friends hurt, and she burst into tears several times today. And she’s a grown woman, not a teen or even a college student. A woman married several times with several children, not one that hurts easily.

Again I say, fucker!

At home tonight, exhausted, tired, an feeling a little queasy again, I tried to lay down and nap. Boomer wouldn’t leave me alone, so I got up and washed 2 days worth of dishes, then cooked supper.

I played online some, checked my e-mails, decided to blog. Added YummY! Down to several bloglistings.

After all, I want to be internet famous.

I’m very tired now, still queasy, feeling very weak and shaky. I think I’m going to bed soon. After all, I have to get up and go to work tomorrow...sick or not.

Oh, I almost forgot...I still need votes. Please, go to the SBC and tell them why I should stay on the island. DO NOT threaten the judge, just use your nice creative brain and come up with an undeniable reason why I should stay on the island.

Thank you.

I'm Infested!!

2006-04-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

These are my mice. Goldie is on the bottom, Muffy in the middle, and Moo is the skeezy looking one on top. She can't help it, she's old, and she is an obsessive groomer.

Obsessive grooming in mice and rats is like obsessive hair pulling (called trichotillomania) in people.

Moo has groomed all the fur off her face, and Muffy ripped one of her ears off recently for reasons unknown to me.

This is Goldie. She is the only one of my mice who ever really friendled up to people. She doesn't LOVE people, but she tolerates being held.

And if Goldie is the sweetie, Muffy is the evil bitch. She hates people, and likes to pick fights with the other two. Usually the fights are not seious, except for the one where she ripped off Moo's ear.

Muffy is on the left, Moo on the right. You can tell the difference between a young, sassy, fat mouse and and older, OCD mouse.

And here, just because they refuse to be left out:

Tofu, Java and Sushi.

More on the Monster Eating my Family

2006-04-06T20:14:00.000-07:00

This post will possibly be very vulgar to some people. If vomit, eating diorders, self injury or cancer bothers you, you should stop reading now. If you think I'm an attention whoring drama queen, also stop reading now.

------

Something Utopia wrote the other day made me think of this. I started to blog about it, then changed my mind, and I started to write about it again, and changed my mind again.

I don't like writing about the gritty emotional parts of my life. I'm so afraid that people think I'm doing it to get attention, because I was raised in that atmosphere....if I show emotion I'm doing it to get attention.

But I know that I have several readers here who like it best when I keep it real, and will find this more interesting than my usual "this is what I did today" blog entries.

So, now I’m writing about it a third time, and if you’re actually reading it that means I didn’t change my mind again.

I suffer from Disordered Eating.

No, I’m not anorexic. I’m not bulimic. I don’t know what I am “officially”. I call it “Emotional Vomiting”

And, no, it has nothing to do with the blog in my blogroll by a similar name.

Since high school, whenever I’m over emotional, I have to vomit. I mean, I HAVE to vomit. If I have nothing in my tummy to puke out, I will eat something and THEN vomit.

And I’m talking full on binge eating, forcing EVERYTHING down my throat that I can, until I feel sicker, then going and puking it out.

Occasionally, when I have nothing in me already to vomit up, and can’t eat (in situations like work) then I end up doing other things...chewing on the inside of my mouth until its ragged and bleeding, ripping my hair out, slapping myself, slamming my head against the nearest wall until someone grabs me and pulls me away. (That was something else that my family also accused me of doing just to get attention.)

The vomiting keeps me from REALLY hurting myself.

So maybe its not Disordered Eating as much as it is a form of SI.

You know SI right? SI is when people who are unable to deal with their emotions physically hurt themselves, usually by cutting themselves.

I dont know anyone else who does this....vomits to help their emotions. I've tried to find support for it, but can't find anyone who understands. When its at its worst I tend to spend a lot of time in bulimia chat rooms becasue thats as close as I can come to someone who understands.

My dad has a meth addiction, my brother is on medication for hearing voices, and I'm try to vomit my pain away. We're a reall salt of the earth family, huh.

In the past 2 years, my emotional vomiting has gotten out of control. A lot of it is the unstable relationship I have with my husband. If not my husband, it’s the way my customers treat me, and my family, and total strangers.

Since around the Christmas rush at work, not a single day has gone by where I have not come home from work, eaten enough for 3 people, and promptly puked it up before taking a long hot bath, sometimes crying, sometimes screaming, sometimes as if nothing had just happened.

And sometimes, shit piles up so much that even the puking doesn’t make me feel any better.

Remember my aunt, the one where they found cancer on her liver? Well, now they’ve also found it in her lungs, her bone marrow, and her lymph nodes. They’re giving her months to live.

So, on Easter I plan to go visit my dying aunt.

And people wonder why I can be so ANGRY at god all the time.

Tonight I ate half a pizza, 2 large chicken breasts, drank a 2 litter of coke and vomited until nothing was coming up but bile and blood.

I don’t feel any better. No better at all.

My Emotional Vomiting to feel better isn’t working anymore.

Now, I don’t know what to do to make the hurting stop.

(Again, this isn’t a pity post. I don’t do pity posts, but my readers seem to enjoy when I get real and gritty about myself and my life...and it doesn’t get much grittier than trying to vomit my pain away.)

Tales of Lard Discrimination

2006-04-06T11:27:00.000-07:00

Its fun to watch the number of subscribers in my feedburner go up and down, up and down, up and down. They love me. They love me! Oh, wait, they don’t love me anymore.

So, its Thursday. Thursday means I’m off work today. Oh joy. Oh rapture.

This morning we went to Target and I bought a pair of jeans with that $20 gift card I found in the road. I would have bought 2 pair of jeans, but the ONLY pair of jeans in the women’s section of Target that fit me was the one I bought.

I think I could sue, or something. An entire fucking department store, and only one pair of jeans in there for a fatass.

Its lard discrimination.

For fun I checked my visitor stats today.

Outside of the click exchanges, most of my visitors come here from the SBC or from Utopia.

See, just more reason to love the SBC and Utopia.

The top 5 search keywords brining people to my site are:

1. Yummy down on this.
2. Take my panties down doctor
3. yummy blogspot
4. living room furniture for overweight people
5. Yummy.

Of course #2 is wrong, because if you read my post before I had to go to the eye doctor, you know how much I hate for doctors to take my panties down.

Now, for whoever was looking for living room furniture for overweight people I recommend a sofa, a coffee table, maybe a recliner and a love-seat or something. Those always worked for me.
I don’t recommend bean-bags or anything inflatable.

Oh, and Webkittyn voted for me in the first Shitty Blog Survivor task.

For that she gets:

A picture of Tofu eating a cracker.

Now, its your turn. Go HERE and tell them why I should win Shitty Blog Survivor.

I'm a Survivor...

2006-04-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

So, there’s this contest, see, and I want to win it. That’s pretty simple, right?

Well, I have to do tasks. What tasks? Tasks that the contest host tells the contestants to do.

So, you guys need to do me a favor. You need to go to THIS PLACE HERE and tell them in a comment (comment by clicking the “no shit” button please) that YummY! sent you and that she needs to win because....

Well, you get to make up the because. Come up with something GOOD. Tell them why YOU think I should win!

The more interesting and creative the comments of reasons why I should win, the better, so feel free to flex those muscles.

Please. Pretty please. Because you love me.

Here’s For You Kittyn

2006-04-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

Webkittyn asked for more rat pictures. Ask and you shall receive. -grin- Just close your eyes and pretend you don’t see the person he’s sitting on.

I have to clean my rat cages either today or tomorrow, and I’ll try to get some pictures of the girls for you too, and maybe even my mice, but they’re hard to photograph because they do not sit still AT ALL!!

Meanwhile, its 12:30ish here and I’ll have to leave for work in about an hour.

Work sucks. I suppose you all know that though. At least those of you with jobs know that. I’d much rather stay home and do THIS all day.

I’m still trying to get used to wearing glasses as opposed to contacts. I wore them to work yesterday and was informed of something I already know. I mean, all day when one of my coworkers saw me in my glasses they would say, “Oh, you got glasses!” and I wanted to say...”Um...Yeah, I know, I was there when it happened.”

Also got a bit of a surprise yesterday. My aunt had come into Savannah to go to a scrapbooking store with her friend, and since they were in town they stopped by Michael’s to see me. I was on the clock though, and couldn’t really visit long, and I couldn’t really ask to take an early lunch because I had JUST gotten there. I asked her to stick around Savannah until my lunch time and take me out to eat, but she had to leave.

Robert bought me “Brokeback Mountain” yesterday, which I really wanted to see. I have to say it was a good concept, but a badly done movie. I blame the director. I’ve never really liked anything he’s directed.

Robert watched it with me and he was bored to death with it, but I have to give him credit, he stuck it out and watched the whole thing with me.

Repeat after me....Glasses are NOT the end of the world.

2006-04-03T19:57:00.002-07:00

So, today was a LONG day, and I did a lot and I totally wasted my day off.

First, I got up early so that we could go to the bank.

At the bank we 1. Opened a second checking account solely for online purchases. And 2. Took $325 out of my savings account to pay for my glasses. That nearly wiped out my savings...and since my husband never give me any of my own money, there’s no way to rebuild it. -sigh-

After the bank, we went to the library, because its close. I checked out 4 books.

1. Confessions of a Teeage Drama Queen by Dyan Sheldon.
2. Water Marked by Helen Elaine Lee
3. Summerland by Michael Chabon
and
4. In the Valley of the Shadow by Leonard Sanders

After the bank we went to pick up my glasses, thus making me officially a four eyed freak. I hate it. The glasses dull down the blue color of my eyes, and the only thing I’ve ever really liked about myself is the color of my eyes!

BEFORE

AFTER

We came home after that, and my MIL said that she was going to go to the bank and the dollar tree and asked if I wanted to come. I, being a Dollar Tree junkie, said sure, even though I didn’t have any cash.

My MIL, who loves me more than my hubby, gave me some money and I bought some dog biscuits for the rats (and the dogs can have some too), some chocolate chip cookie mix, some gum, and a book. I don’t even remember the name of the book, and I’m too tired to get up and go look for it.

We then came home and ate lunch. She said she wanted to go to Michael’s and I said I’d go with her. She said, “Are you sure? Its your day off.” I told her I didn’t mind as long as I didn’t have to work, and plus if I was shopping with her I’d be able to get her my employee discount.

After Michael’s we went to Wild Birds Unlimited, which is in the same shopping center. Then went home again, and she gave me one of the things she had bought at Michael’s. It is a wall hanging made to look like daisies on a picket fence, and it had butterflies and ladybugs on it. When she bought it I didn’t know it was for me.

Then she told me that at 6 we would be going out to eat at Fire Mountain (an all you can eat buffet), her treat.

Told you she loved me.

After I ate much, much, much more than I should have, I came home and here I am. Wearing glasses, bloated from eating too much, and blogging.

Gotta love me.

She's Gonna Break Soon

2006-03-30T19:48:00.000-08:00

Okay, so there is this girl I work with who is infatuated with Less Than Jake. She talks about that band ALL the time. So after hearing her mention them forever, and never having heard anything by them, I found some Less Than Jake songs.

I was not impressed.

And most of what I found were cover songs. They mutilated “I would walk 500 miles” and they tortured and raped “Hotel California” which should never be covered anyway. EVER.

I did find one song I sort of liked. “She’s Gonna Break Soon.”

Speaking of songs....

I spent a great deal of time today burning cds and deleting files from my computer. Image files, music files, word documents. A LOT of crap.

I downloaded a new version of Limewire, and deleted my current version, and now the new version won’t install.

Currently I’m trying to re-install the old version.

That’ll teach me to try something newfangled.

I asked for a gazoo yesterday and got it today, as per usual. I hid it inside a bad cover song. I wonder how many people actually GET my gazoos. I wonder how many people even look for them. I don’t understand why they wont give one to Kittyn. -pout-

Today was a day for shit. Fights with the husband, too much laundry, sick dogs. I even missed SBR tonight! Well, I’m missing it right now as I type this because I’m still trying to get limewire to get back on my computer, and my computer can only do one thing at a time.

I’m hoping that getting so much crap off of it will help some.

And tomorrow is back to work.

Such is my life.

So, where IS my money tree?

2006-03-29T17:03:00.000-08:00

So, today was the first of two days off in a row this week.

I like getting two days off in a row. Even if they come in the middle of the week, it feels like a real weekend, as opposed to a day off here, and a day off there.

This morning I got up early and went to look at glasses frames.

God, the horror in that.

I don’t even look into my OWN mirrors unless I have to, and I spent so much time sitting in front of this mirror that not only reflected me but MAGNIFIED me while I tried on all these different lenses.

Meanwhile the lady at The Optical Shop was scaring me shitless talking about how I needed as small a frame as possible so my lenses would look thinner.

Now its been YEARS since I wore glasses. I got my contacts my freshman year of HS if I remember correctly, and have not worn glasses since, yet my eyesight has deteriorated over the time.

All her talk about making my lenses appear thin has given me nightmares images of pop-bottle glasses.

You know them right? Maybe you call them fish-bowl glasses. The ones that are as thick as a spiral notebook, and make your eyes look roughly the size of the state of Texas.

Nerd glasses.

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about thinking about the frames making my fat face look even fatter.

Well, pop-bottle glasses and fat face aside I can’t WAIT to get my glasses.

Why?

Because my contacts have now irritated my eyes to the point where I cringe at the thought of having to put them in, and if I wasn’t blind I wouldn’t even wear them around the house. It hurts man, and I mean it HURTS. Especially my left one.

The frames themselves are not awful. Glasses have really come a long way since last time I wore them. I might even put a picture of them up on this blog when I get them. Of course, you’ll get eyes only. I’m not yet willing to share my second chin with you all. (The picture from back when I was in HS doesn’t count.)

What was awful was the price.

The frames and the thinner lightweight lenses together were $325. We agreed the extra expense was worth it because this was a long term deal.

But, add that to the $166 I paid for the initial eye exam and I’ve coughed up almost $1000 for new glasses.

And they wondered why it has been almost 7 years since my last exam. Geeze, what do they think I have a money tree or something?

After I got home from that, my MIL invited me to go out to eat with her and her sister and a friend. They were going to Carey Hilliard’s, which I enjoy, so I said sure, I’d go. I offered to pay for my own, but my MIL wouldn’t let me.

The food was pretty good, but their service was LOUSY!!!! The waitress got a 2 dollar tip, and she only got that because out of the 4 orders she got MY order right. Everything else she fucked up. Including only coming to re-fill our tea glasses once.....after we were pretty much done eating.

I could have forgave it if it was busy or something, but it was pretty dead in there. My husband and I have gone there on a busy Saturday night and got better service than that.

Then there was a veg out period while watching “Mission Organization” then dog washing and laundry. You know. Boring stuff.

I do have a Biological Clock After all

2006-03-28T20:34:00.000-08:00

So, recently one of my assistant managers announced that she is pregnant.

This woman is positively glowing. I’m heard people talk about people glowing before, but have never witnessed it myself, and this girl is GLOWING. She is so in love with the idea of having a baby.

Sometime around the time she announced she was pregnant, I started noticing pregnant women everywhere.

And shortly after that I found myself thinking odd things. Things beginning with, “When I have my baby....”

My baby? What baby?

Anyone who knows me knows I’m TOTALLY against ever having a child. I’m not wanting that responsibility.

Yet, these thoughts persist.

The other day I found myself looking up fit pregnancy websites, and thinking about how I would have to loose weight and change my lifestyle to have a healthy baby.

Last night I was talking to my mother in law, who BADLY wants a granddaughter, and said, “Well, I might not HAVE a girl, I don’t have a lot of control over that.”

Tonight, while cleaning the breakroom at work, I was daydreaming about reading “Alice in Wonderland” to my daughter and how I am going to read to her every day even when she’s a little baby, just so that she will love books as much as I know she’s going to love movies if she’s her fathers child.

This is getting out of control.

Of course, even though I’ve never wanted a child, I’ve had my kids names picked out.

Monica (whatever my husband wants as the middle name) if it’s a girl, after my best friend.

Robert Wyncell if it’s a boy, after his dad and my dad.

I’ve even broached the thought of sitting down with my husband and asking him if he thinks we should ever have children.

I know from earlier conversations in our relationship that he would like to have kids.

But, I don’t want kids. (Yeah, even now that my damn clock has started ticking I keep telling myself this)

And if I DID want kids, I’d never be able to afford them. I mean, we can hardly even afford for me to get the new glasses I need, and I’m thinking about having a baby.

-sigh-

What has happened to me? Its got to be all those pregnant hormones flowing off my manger, right?

Double Whammy

2006-03-24T19:06:00.000-08:00

1. My brother asked me if I'd support him if he decides to have my father forcibly put into a rehab/mental hospital. I do support that decision, but my heart aches with the fact that it will probably make my father and my other brother hate my brother and me. And it will further tear apart my crumbling family.

2. My aunt has cancer.

I found out both of these things in one conversation.

My heart hurts.

The Yummification of Little Wooden Boxes

2006-03-22T20:34:00.000-08:00

Today, I was off work. It was nice, but not a “Woohoo!” day or anything.

I slept. I watched TV. I read. I played on the internet. I cooked supper, made a huge mess, and had to clean the kitchen.

I cleaned out my fridge too, and that just added to the mess I had to clean. I was lucky that there were no furry fridge monsters living in the back corners of the icebox. There was, however, a container of sweet potatoes that seemed to have....melted.

I started to weed a place and prepare for my flower garden, but changed my mind. I started to clean off my desk, but changed my mind about that too.

I did do a craft project today. It was sort of small, so maybe it should be called a mini-craft project.

I took a plain wooden box.

I added to it some paint, some felt, some sand, some hot glue, some ribbon, some seashells and some paper fish and I made this.

All together now... "Ohhhh......Ahhhhh!"

Last night I sort of doubtfully sat down to watch “Strange Days” with my husband. I say doubtfully because I’m very cautious when watching a James Cameron film. Why? Because if its anything like “Titanic” then I’m going to run screaming from the room.

The movie was slow, but it had its moments. When it was over I looked at my husband and said, “That didn’t entirely suck, but why is it called Strange Days? Black Jack would have been a much more fitting title.”

He didn’t agree with me, but I still say “Black Jack” is a better title for the film than “Strange Days” is.

Small Pleasures

2006-03-20T18:15:00.000-08:00

I'm a click exchange junkie, I wont even pretend that I'm not. I surf BE and Blog Clicker and Blogazoo, and now there is Blog Mad.

Blog Mad is the new kid on the click exchange block, after months of anticipation, it was open for a while for private testing from early adoptors. Now, today, it opened for Public Beta. That means you can SIGN UP for your own Blog Mad Account if you haven't already. And if you SIGN UP TODAY then you will be able to surf today for double credits.

Double Credits kick ass.

Know what else kicks ass?

I found a Target Gift card on the road between my house and my mother in laws house, and, since it was a cute little white dog, I picked it up, meaning to just keep it becasue it was cute. I was going to use it as a bookmark.

I told my husband I had found it, and he went to target.com to check its balance, not really thinking there was anything on it, but joking that maybe it was a $500 gift card.

Well, it wasn't a $500 card, but it was a $20 card.

Yep. I got a $20 gift card for target out of the middle of the street.

And I will probably use it to buy a pair of jeans, becasue I need a pair of jeans.

And those were the deepest thoughts I could muster today, after getting up to work at 5:30 and working a 12 hour day.

Ice Cream in 60 Degree Weather

2006-03-19T16:45:00.000-08:00

Something odd happened this week.

I got the ENTIRE weekend off!

Every once in a while I’ll get a Saturday off. I don’t remember the last time I got a Sunday off. This week...Saturday AND Sunday!

How amazing is that?

So how did I spend this amazing time off?

Doing mundane boring things, as usual.

Robert wanted to go see “V for Vendetta” and I had no interest in it. So, he went to see it with his cousin.

I stayed home, vacuumed the house, washed some clothes. Then I went out with Sheryl. We went to K-mart, Target and the Dollar Tree. I got some new tennis shoes, cause my pinkytoe had escaped my last pair.

At the Dollar Tree (God, I love the Dollar Tree) I got some house stuff mostly, but I did get myself a bar of soap I really like. Yardley Oatmeal and Almond soap. Love it.

Sheryl cooked supper, we ate, I played online. Went to bed.

Yesterday went by way to fast. So did today.

Today we had lunch, then we went to Wal-Mart. Robert was looking for some DVD box set. He didn’t find it, therefore he brought home a different one. Free Enterprise. I oogled some Venus Flytraps and almost bought one, but changed my mind.

After that we went to Lake Mayer and fed the ducks and geese, then to the mall where we bought ice cream cones then browsed around.

My boss called and asked if I could go to Hilton Head with Lonnie again tomorrow and I said I would. Getting up at fucking 5:30am, but its worth it to NOT be a my Michael’s were a lot of little annoying things have gone on sale and I don’t want to have to ring them up.

Last time I went to Hilton Head it was nice to just be able to do my job and not have to be called to the register 400 times or for price checks or to answer customer service calls or to help customers in the store who walk up to me and say, “Do you work here?”.

Just to get there and work.

I really am happiest when I set my mind on a task and can stay on that task until that task is done, without interruption.

That, and I’ll get home before dark. That doesn’t happen too often. -grin-

------
*The picture of the goose. I took that picture. Yep. Thats my goose. I fed it bread. Or I tried to feed it bread, but the little black ducks took it all.

A Hungry Monster is Eating my Family

2006-03-16T14:37:00.000-08:00

Things are so horribly fucked up.

For a short time there I was actually feeling pretty good. Enjoying my job, and things were going smoothly at home.

Then last Thursday I started feeling down, and like a snowball rolling downhill its just gotten bigger and bigger and bigger.

My eyes hurt. We still haven’t gotten my glasses. Robert and I have been fighting a lot again, and I’ve been dwelling on all the pretty things in life I want that I can’t have and about how its never going to change and I’m never going to be able to outrun the poverty I was born into. I’m not as poor now as I was then, but I’ll certainly never be one of those people who can buy things on a whim.

While money doesn’t mean everything to me, it does mean SOMETHING, and the idea of never being able to have what I want is not a happy making thought.

Now, one of my aunts recently went in to have a gall stone removed and while in there they found a spot on her liver. They think its cancer.

This aunt has had cancer before and beat it. They don’t know if it’s the melanoma back, or something new.

I’ve lost 2 uncles and 1 aunt already to cancer. I’m not looking to loose someone else right now. And there is a dirty, rotten, mean voice in the heart of me that is saying, “At least its her and not the aunt I’m closest to, and not my daddy.”

But, there is a knowledge that one of them will be next. Cancer is a hungry monster who likes the taste of that particular group of siblings.

I need one of those holes.

You know, one of those holes you crawl into and never come out of again.

What I’m trying to do instead is disappear into the internet, but that’s not working today. Not enough is going on to keep me occupied.

So, I’m just sitting here waiting on it to be 9 o’clock so I can listen to Shitty Blogs Radio, and then go to bed.

Tonight is the Listener’s Choice show and I’m interested in seeing which of my suggestions made it into the lineup. Also interested in seeing what the Other SBR listeners asked for.

I wish I could get skype to work for me. I don’t understand why it wont. I set everything up exactly like they told me to. And when that didn’t work I went back and set it the opposite of what they said to do, just to see if that would work. It doesn’t work.

My computer desk is in danger of collapsing. I’ve been trying to get Robert to buy a new one. He doesn’t like any he finds. They are “too long” he says.

We’ll see what’s “too long” when the legs finally collapse out from under this one and everything hits the floor.

I hope he’s ON the computer when it happens. I hope I’m not home though.

SBotM and I Say Fuck (A LOT)

2006-03-15T20:48:00.000-08:00

Look! I finally made Shitty Blog of the Month. I had decided it was never going to happen, and that I'd have to settle on being the self proclaimed mascot and being able to post at my whim there.

It made me smile.

My SBotM happiness was sullied when the fucking DOOM dvd didn't work.

Beleive it or not I really do want to see DOOM. I wanted to see it in theaters. Like everything else that I want to see that the husband has no interest in, I didn't get to see it then.

Dont get to see it now either.

Of course, when the DVD didn't work, the fucking asswad I married didn't ask me what my second choice would be and just put in what the fuck he wanted to watch.

It really fucking pissed me off.

I'm so pissed of, in fact, that I'm going to go to bed now.

I have no interest whatsoever in Mad Max 3, and I'm fucking sick and goddamn tired of having to sit here and listen to fucking bullshit that I don't want to fucking listen to any more than I want to fucking watch. Goddamn fucking bad and really fucking annoying movie music at a volume so high I can't even turn my fucking headphones up enough to drown the fucking shit out.

God-fucking-damn I'm sick and fucking tired of all his fucking bullshit.

Goodnight.

PS. Utopia...when are you gonna get I Say Fuck off the ground? I'm all sweaty with anticipation.

I'm not an ass, I just play on on the SBC.

2006-03-14T19:57:00.000-08:00

Last night my husband and I watched a cinematic masterpiece called “The Blair Thumb.”

See, there’s this guy named Steve Oedekerk who makes fun of movies, using thumbs. My husband thinks these movies are the hight of wit. “Thumbwars” of course is his favorite, and in a moment of weakness I bought him “Bat Thumb” and when our local Media Play went out of business he bought “The Blair Thumb” and we just got around to watching it.

I wanted to watch “Doom” but was vetoed (much to no one’s surprise, I’m sure.)

The ONLY good thing about the entire thing was the following lines:

“Sure, the tent is safe. Nothing can get through the nylon.”

It was smothered in sarcasm. I loved it.

So, tonight I was a bit of a slacker at work. I mean, I did all my real work, and I even put up some returns and recovered the seasonal areas, but it hit 8:30 and then I didn’t do a damn thing the rest of the night except talk.

I’ve been in one of those moods lately where they are lucky I make it to work at all. I’ve been feeling rather blah.

I asked Ashley’s opinion on whether orange rocks or painted dots looked better on my journal cover, and told her that YummY! Was one of my online personalities and even mentioned the Shitty Blogs Club to her.

See, Jeckles, you even have me pimping your shit in real life.

God, I suck.

Now, its started heating up in the house something awful, but electric prices are heinous, so we’ve been opening windows after sundown to let the cool in.

That would be okay, except for one thing....

There is a Jack Russel Terrier who lives down the street from us who will not shut the fuck up.

Yap, yapyapyap. Yap, yapyapyap. Yap, yapyapyap.

I’ve heard that CONSTANTLY since I got home.

These people are INSANE. How can they listen to that themselves? I guess the same way my next door neighbors can listen to THIER dog bark constantly. It just makes me want to throttle the animals and the people that own them.

Not that my dogs never bark, but when they do bark I either make them hush up, or make them come inside.

I never liked Jack Russels anyway.

Oh, and I’ve got a gazoo for you. Its being guarded by a huge and vicious dog. Can you find it?

Um, Dear, There's a Rat in the Tub

2006-03-11T20:44:00.000-08:00

WAIT!

I don’t think I’ve talked much about Buddy here. I talk a lot about my girls, and poor Buddy gets left out.

Buddy is my boy rat. He’s a BIG boy. In his prime he was roughly the size of a baby bunny. Now he’s an old fella, roughly the size of a...well, a big rat.

He’s an old fella. I can’t remember if he’s 2 or 3 years old, cause I don’t do the numbers so well, but, old rat. My oldest rat. He’s been around a long time.

And he got mites.

Mites can sometimes be found in the bedding used to line small pet cages. Normal, young, healthy pets are never really bothered by them, but they can overwhelm an older rat.

Last night I held Buddy, laid my cheek against him, and when I leaned back up, the side of my face was covered with mites.

EEEEEKKKK!!!

Well, that was about 2am this morning. I just put him back in his cage. Mites wouldn’t do him any real damage that quickly. I said I’d fix it up when I got up.

Well, I slept late.

So it had to wail till after work today.

Work was a bitch. When I got home tonight I was plum exhausted.

But my boy needed fixing, so I had to do it.

So, I was sitting on the end of the bed, taking my shoes off and going over in my head what I had to do.

I had to clean the girls first, then the mice, then Buddy. The cages would need DEEP cleaning, not just and easy clean. I would have to bathe Buddy, then I would have to vacuum the room, then I would have to bathe me. Then I could eat.

Eat?

FUCK! I had to wash dishes.

“Goddamn it!” I screamed, then I laid down and cried from the idea of everything I had to do because I was just too fucking tired to keep moving, but I had no choice in the matter.

My husband took pity on me and told me not to wash dishes. Not that HE is going to wash them, I just don’t have to was them tonight. I’ll just have to do it tomorrow.

Oh well...better than nothing.

So I got my rats cleaned, got the cages cleaned, got buddy washed, got the floor vacuumed, got me washed.

Its 11:25 now. I still haven’t gotten anything to eat. I’m too tired to cook. I’m too tired to make a sandwich.

But....Buddy’s mites should be gone now. Although he’s angry at me.

This post is depressing. No. Really. I mean it.

2006-03-09T21:33:00.000-08:00

This is an old picture of me. I’m the one on the left. Yeah. Point. Laugh. Make fat jokes.

I was still in highschool. The people on the sofa with me are 3 of my closest cousins. The boy sitting right next to me is this guy. I have many fond memories of growing up with him, and its hard for me to believe that he’s in his 20s now.

I guess that makes me old.

I don’t know if you can tell from this picture, but my eyes are baggy and bloodshot. I had just found out that day that my first and only boyfriend to that point in my life was seeing another girl. I wasn’t even his FIRST. He was ENGAGED to this girl and cheating on her with me.

That was the guy I lost my virginity to.

Up until that point I’d merely been unhappy in the same way that every teenager is unhappy.

What makes this picture worth sharing is the fact that it was taken on the EXACT day that I began to suffer from depression, REAL depression and not just teenaged angst, for the first time.

Why am I telling you all of this?

Of all things, a shitty e-mail I sent in to SBR tonight got me all nostalgic, not so much when I wrote it, but when I heard Jeckles rushing thought it cause he didn’t care about it as much as the one where I said he does it for me.

Its my fault thought, I talked about Monica.

This is Monica:

She the one on the right in this picture. The girl on the left is alive and well and we still talk to this very day through the internet.

Or I should say that was Moncia. This is as close to Monica as I can get now.

She died in 2002, at the ripe old age of 23.

She was one of the last really great things I had in my life, and like everything she was taken away from me way too soon.

The day that picture of my cousins and me was taken was the day I became pessimistic. It was the day I quit caring for the world at large. It was the day that I started seeing my life as a series of losses.

They day Monica died, I spent hours on the phone talking to a man I had never met, a man she was living with at the time. This total stranger was the person who cracked my world in half, and he was the only person who had the slightest idea how bad I hurt, the only person who could offer me the least little bit of comfort.

The last good thing in my life had been taken away from me. And, like my virginity, its something I can never get back.

I don’t think my family ever liked Monica, except maybe one of my brothers and the male cousin in that first picture.

Fast forward 4 years to the present day and the heartbreak I felt in that picture has multiplied over and over. Added to it is the death of my grandmother, one of the aunts I held closest to my heart, and my best friend, and many other hurts, major and minor.

Yeah, I’m depressed. “Officially” depressed. Its much worse now than it was the day that pitcture of me was taken. Only I can’t afford the “happy pills” that so many people take for granted, so I sludge through my life in this depression while people are telling me to just get over it.

I'm sure there are some of you out there who know what is like to try to functuion like a normal human being when you dont even want to EXIST anymore.

My family, the people I should be able to turn to when I need comfort the most, tell me I’m not depressed. I’m “choosing” to remain unhappy because I want pitty.

All of that is old shit, but I’m still pissed off about it. Mainly because these people will never know the hurt that I know so they will always think I’m nothing more than a drama queen. Yeah, I’m over dramatic, but that doesn’t mean I feel it any less.

Choosing to be unhappy. If I ever did work up the nerve to kill myself (the only thing stopping me is the fear of the unknown after death. If I’m on my way to hell I don’t want to speed along the process, no matter how much I hurt in and hate this life) I bet they’d put that on my headstone. “Here lies YummY! She selfishly chose to be unhappy and overdramatically commited suicide.”

And trust me, I’d rather have true happiness than false pitty any day. I can’t have the happiness, so I’ll take the pity.

Oh, Monica died the year that my husband and I got married. I got married that January. She died that February. She knew I was engaged, but I never even got to tell her I had gotten married. She never got to tell me she was engaged. Her fiance told me that on the phone, the day he told me we didn't have her anymore.

So, how do you feel about THAT look into my life?

Are you depressed yet, or are you laughing at the drama queen begging for pitty?

It’s a bit you’ll probably hear again. Several times a year I start missing her badly. REALLY missing her. I usually try not to blog about it though.....thank god for small favors, right?

YummY! The Four Eyed Freak

2006-03-06T14:39:00.000-08:00

I don’t like going to new doctors.

I don’t think anyone does, really.

But since that time about 3 years ago now (I think) when they discovered and abnormal lump in my tummy and I went to a new doctor about once a week and had the fingers of EVERY gyno in Chatham county up my vagina, I’m new-doctor phobic.

I remember finally drawing the line and telling the last doctor, the one that finally did my surgery, that I refused to take my panties off until he would tell me he wasn’t going to send me to someone else because I was tired of being felt up by strangers.

What I’m getting at is...I went to a new doctor today.

My husbands optometrist. Because he doesn’t think that it’s a good idea to drive all the way to Dublin so I can see Dr. Whitaker when there are capable optometrists right here in Savannah.

See, I’m comfortable with Dr. Whitaker. I’ve not been to see him since 1999, but I know his waiting room. I know his exam room. I know that I can see the hair in his nose when he leans close to my face. I know that he breath doesn’t stink.

On the bright side, at least an eye exam doesn’t call for personal groping.

So, I had an appointment with Dr. Croll at 9:45 this morning. I had to go do all that new patient paperwork. Then I had to wait.

I got called into different exam rooms and sent back to the waiting room several times. I had about half a dozen different bright and painful lights shined in my eyes. I got to see Dr. Croll herself for about all of 10 minutes, if that long.

The result one one hell of a headache caused by the various light sources shined into my eyes.

I was scolded for it being so long between eye exams. I was told to get a pair of glasses and to NOT wear my contacts as often as I have been.

I was also told that my left contact is so warped that they can’t even get a reading on it...whatever the fuck that means.

So, I was told to wear my contacts until I get glasses, then wear glasses some, and I can make another appointment to get fitted for new contacts if I want, but a pair of glasses is a must.

Today’s visit costed me $166, so I don’t see another visit in my near future.

I may be wearing glasses again in a bit for quite a while.

I hate that. I have a round face. A fat face. Fat faces, as a rule, look even fatter with glasses on.
Yuck!

I’m doomed.

Meanwhile, I get to leave the Dr. Croll's office at 11:30 with a pounding headache caused by the multitude of bright lights shined in my eyes, and dilated pupils.

They even sent me out into the bright sunshine without those flimsy paper and plastic shades that I always got from Dr. Whitaker. That really, really, REALLY hurt.

I looked at myself in the mirror when I got home, and thought of evil black eyed witches and shit. My pupils were HUGE and had a small light blue ring around them. It was sort of neat looking.

I would have gotten my photographer husband to take a picture of my kick-ass evil eyes, but the pain that would have been caused by the flash probably would have landed me in an asylum somewhere.

You'r Friendly Neighborhood Bomb Squad

2006-03-03T21:15:00.000-08:00

So, today on the way to work I saw a large square truck that had large letters on the side of it.

CHATHAM COUNTY BOMB SQUAD

For some reason that pleased me. It made me almost as happy as the day that I saw a truck that said “Cryogenics” on the side of it.

Yes, I’m easily amused. I can’t even tell you WHY the bomb squad truck amused me, but it did.

Meanwhile, I actually GOT to work and...it was work. I set myself upon one task in a neglected area of the store. My boss told me good job, then told me to go work elsewhere in the store.

I would go into more detail, but really, who the fuck cares?

What I want to talk about is the lady that came through my line today. She looked horrible. Not “oh my god that lady is hideous” horrible but ‘oh my god, my best friend just died.’ horrible.

I said my usual, “Hi, how are you today,” as I was ringing her purchase and she started talking.

You know, as a whole, I hate customers, but today I felt like the friendly neighborhood barkeep as she poured her heart out to me.

She said she wasn’t doing so good, that she had just left the hospital where her friend was. Her friend who was 40 years old, and had just miscarried her child. It would have been her friends FIRST child. A child who would have had severe Downs Syndrome if it had been born. She said it was really a blessing that the child had miscarried, but she still felt horrible for her friend, and her fried felt worse of all.

She then went on to tell me that she had miscarried her own child 3 months ago so she knew what her friend was going through. She told me that the biggest difference was that her friends had been a natural pregnancy after years of trying, and her own child had been from having the expensive “getchapregnant” shots.

I’ve been thinking about that woman and her friend ever since.

I’ve always felt an ache for women who want so badly to have children, but can’t for some reason or another.

Its odd that I should sympathize for them, since I have no urge to have children of my own. Ever. I don’t know what its like to actually WANT a child, but I hurt for the people who want children but can’t have them.

Canned?

2006-03-02T19:17:00.000-08:00

So, at a quarter till 3 today I hear my name on the intercom. It wasn’t a code 3. It wasn’t you have a call on line one. It wasn’t customer assistance. It wasn’t for a price check. It wasn’t for me to report to receiving.

It was none of the usual places they call me to be.

The intercom said, “Come to the classroom please.”

The classroom is often used as a conference room if there’s not a class or party going on it in. I’m not important enough to be needed in a conference.

My panicky little voice in the back of my head said, “this is bad.”

I went to the classroom.

The store manager was in there. So was the second in command, Lonnie (who I work directly under), and so was Vanessa, one of the assistant managers I work with a lot.

Ted, the store manager, told me to have a seat. Vanessa just looked at me. Lonnie closed the door behind me and stood by it with his arms crossed. Everyone looked very serious.

I sat down. My panicky little voice was a wreck repeating, “This is bad. Oh, this is bad. This can’t end well. What did you do? WHAT DI D YOU DO!?!”

Ted starts talking about how he knows I’ve been with the store for a while now. He said he knows I was part of the mass hire to build the new store and how I had been kept on. He told me how he knows I’m a hard worker and how everyone agrees I’m a hard worker.

He’s bragging about me too much.

I was thinking about Ted telling me two days ago, when I asked for a certain day off, that there were going to be some major changes in the store soon and how they would directly effect me. I remember that they’re recently hired 4 new people. I remember that I’ve been getting fewer hours than usual the past couple of week.

My panicky little voice in the back of my head had sat down and started crying.

My brain was already ticking off the places I can start applying too. One of the vets was hiring recently, maybe they still were.

Ted and Lonnie and Vanessa were all agreeing how I’m such a hard worker and how its great that I can multi-task and that they all appreciate what I do for the store.

I was waiting for the but. The big but. The but that would go....”BUT...we’re going to have to let you go.”

See, I’m a horrible pessimist. I can’t help myself.

But, being a pessimist like me you’re not as crushed when bad shit happens as you would be if you were an optimist.

It also means that when the bad shit DOESN’T happen, then you get a pleasant suprise and a high that lasts for a few hours.

I did not get fired.

What I got was promoted. Or the retail equivalent of promoted.

I got bumped from being ALMOST part time (30 - 35 hours a week) to being full time (40 hours). That means I’ll eventually (in about a year) start getting benefits, like paid vacation days and paid sick days!

Oh, and I get a raise too. He didn’t say how much, but he definitely said raise.

So, there, a little non-bitter post from me. Enjoy it, it doesn’t happen often.

Mud wrestling? Or do you perfer green jello?

2006-02-27T18:24:00.000-08:00

I’ve been feeling a lot bored and a little depressed lately. Slightly depressed and bored blogging doesn’t lead to interesting and fun-filled blog posts.

I told my husband I have been bored and that I have a very boring life and he asked me the “trick question.”

“What would make it less boring?”

Damned if I know.

Naked mud wrestling possibly? I’m a fat-ass too, so that would make the naked mud wrestling that much interesting. At least for the spectators.

But seriously, I’m pretty easy to entertain. Just let me do something occasionally that doesn’t involve my place of business or my own house.

I want to go on a picnic. I think that would be fun. I’ve been trying to convince my husband.

He used to like doing things like that, back when he was my boyfriend and not my husband.

Its sort of sad to admit that all the “rumors” about marriage are true. You’d be better off to just date forever.

Well, not all of them. We still have sex about the same amount as when we dated, but now I’m sleeping with a boring old man instead of a fun-loving old man.

I’d rather him not want to have sex with me, but still want to have fun.

After all...I can always get my sex from somewhere else.