Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Ok, here's the plan

I have magical powers.

WAIT! Where are you going? Don't move your fingers to the mouse and click away from here. Let me explain!

We had a drunk bloody man try to maybe break into our house last night.

See? What did I tell you?! MAGIC.

A and I were just dozing quietly in bed and from nowhere (well, ok, we think he came from the back of our house because him walking down the side of our house is what alerted A) we have a guy trying to look in the windows on our front porch. A called the police who very kindly rushed over, pepper sprayed an angry possum and our grill, and arrested the bloody drunk man. The bloody drunk man claimed he was there because he was told to come to our house for food.

Now, unless he was told that by the angry possum who may or may not be eating some of the cat food we leave out for a stray, it is not true that we indiscriminately hand out food. I mean, if you were hungry and came and knocked on my door and told me "Dude! I read your blog!" I would probably be flattered and hand you half a cantaloupe. But this guy did not appear to be a blog reader and he missed the important step of knocking on the door before attempting entrance.

What, you still don't get the magic part?
See, I figure that I just blogged about how boring my life is and this guy shows up. So whatever I write on my blog, the opposite will happen.

BOY. I SURE AM NOT WEALTHY AND PREGNANT.

(Hopefully this works. If not, well, feel free to come over for cantaloupe.)

Monday, March 23, 2009

Becoming the norm

Sigh. A applied for a job at a college where we have a really good friend leading the department. It's close by, we love our friend (he actually married us), and it would have been really perfect.
A just talked to him and they offered the job to somebody else. But A was "a strong number two."
Too bad there's no consolation prizes for jobs.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

And A is so hurt by this. For him it's just more confirmation that he is just not good enough. It just seems like crappy news is all we ever get anymore.
I know that in a few years we will look back and be able to talk about this period of being poor and probably laugh over some of it, but I am really, really ready for that time to hurry the fuck up and get here.

monday monday monday

In my last post I used bullet points. It was really exciting, so I'm going to do it again.

Brace yourself.

  • There isn't actually anything happening right now to post about but I feel like talking to you instead of thinking about this pension stuff I'm working on. Feel free to skip the whole post.
  • Seriously, boring shit ahead.
  • I know, I'm blogging from work. I try not to do that normally.
  • So there was a meeting over at the Un*on hall today and for some reason we said we'd order pizza for their meeting even though hit had nothing to do with us. Not sure why, but whatever. So I was all about ordering this local pizza that is delicious, even though it costs more and I'd have to pick it up. But they didn't answer the phone. So I ordered doughy chain crap. Don't get me wrong - I ate it. I even kind of enjoyed it. But I was sad on the inside that it was not the local place.
  • Mizzou won last night in the basketball madness . I can't even begin to tell you how happy that made A. But he was not impressed when I left him hanging by not finishing the M-I-Z he started. I was supposed to yell back Z!-O!-U!
  • Have you ever been to Anthropologie or however they misspell it? I went in there yesterday to buy a birthday present for a friend of mine who really likes the store. It is really fucking overpriced. I used to buy clothes like that, but they were from thrift stores and cost 84 cents, not 84 dollars. And I must be getting old, because the nineteen year old working behind the counter looking fucking ridiculous with her self conscience layers.
  • I got her a pretty green trivet that was on clearance and will match her new dining room.
  • My friend M often gives me books to read and her taste is generally fantastic. Really good lit. So, she went to Montreal last week and bought the first two Twilight books for light reading and then gave them to me. I read them and am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I now am planning to go get the last two in the series so I can read them. They are kind of terrible, but I love trashy novels. Though, I guess it was written by a Mormon for teenagers? So it's not sexy dirty trashy so far.
  • Charlie is pretending I put a treat in his Kong toy even though I did not. Poor neglected pup.
  • I ordered a new computer at work. I decided to get a laptop this time. So I got a docking station to go with it, but because I am cheap, even with OPM, I decided not to get a new monitor. I think I am going to regret that. I'll let you know.
  • I know, the anticipation is killing you.
  • You probably thought to yourself when I warned you at the beginning of this post "Naw, there is no way that Io really has nothing at all to say. I'll read through and something will no doubt be fascinating."
  • That was foolish of you.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Show and Tell: Stamps

I know that it may sometimes appear that all of my time is spent drinking, working, or drinking at work, but in fact I also do the following:

  • Sleep
  • Blog
  • Comment on blogs
  • Read trashy and not so trashy novels
  • Watch films that nobody else has seen or likely will ever see
  • Eat
  • Play with my animals
  • Listen to my husband bitch about most of the above
  • Annoy my husband with incessant kisses while he watches basketball to get him back for the bitching
  • Help my mom keep from divorcing or dismembering my dad.
My parents have been married for forty something years and my dad retired about six years ago. My mom is retiring at the end of this school year and, while she is thoroughly enjoying being able to speak up about every dumb thing at school because it would take longer for them to fire her than she has time left, she knows that what awaits her at home is going to keep her from enjoying retirement. What awaits her at home is my dad and the five billion stamps with which he has filled two rooms.
My dad has three loves in his life other than his family. He loves the Cathol*c Church, the St. Lou*s Cardinals, and stamps.
I couldn't in good conscience take a picture of my dad's two rooms. Somebody would probably see the picture and call child protective services to warn them that my future children should not be allowed near this deranged man.
There are boxes and piles of stamps filling every corner of both rooms. It's like those Oprah shows with hoarders, only instead of going to the mall or watching QVC, my dad goes to stamp shows and orders off of eb@y and from private collectors.
My mom, seeing her future, has decided it is time to work towards not having to bury my dad's body under her apple tree. He is a large man after all.
I have been going over to my parents' house every week the past few months to help sort my dad's stamps. We're halfway through one room, but progress is stymied by my dad
A. Refusing to let us throw anything away. That L*nn's Stamp News from 1992? He might need to read it again.
B. Taking boxes we have sorted and mixing them together again. Clearly, whatever we were doing was incorrect so he apparently thinks we should stat from scratch.
C. Pretending to help sort, but instead sitting and exclaiming over stamps (Oh hey! This is a good stamp block! Let me tell you all about it!) and then sorting the pile I gave him into one pile. Which, in case you're wondering, is not sorting at all.
D. LAUGHING when my mother yells at him for one of the above.

The saddest part of all this is that despite my father's best efforts, none of his kids ever got into stamp collecting. Or the church for that matter. I am a Cards fan though, as is A.
This does not mean he's given up though - just as he tried to remind me that it would be nice if I came back to the church before I have kids (Ha! Little does he know. Plus, the church doesn't approve of the way in which I plan to have kids.) he jumps on any interest I show in a stamp.
Some of them are pretty cool - there seems to be a stamp for damn near anything you can think of except of course for infertility. (There is a really neat Portuguese stamp, but my dad collects US only.)
Today I got a few to take home.You can't really see them from my crappy picture, but he gave A a current Civil Rights Pioneers sheet and I took some Labor Unions and some Collective Bargaining stamps home.
I love the Collective Bargaining stamp - you can totally tell it's from the 1970s too. It says "out of conflict...accord."


Unfortunately, most of the other 4,999,999,999 stamps hold little interest for me. Sorry dad.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Ghetto Life

Oh for fucks sake. If you don't hear from me in a few days, would somebody who knows me in real life please check to make sure I'm not dead? And if I am, let the police know that it was the skinhead who lives on the corner three houses up. Dirty white house, chain link fence with a dog that seems sad and lonely, and a project car they seem to be fixing with black spray paint, duct tape, and stupidity.

Generally, I don't mind where we live. It's really close to downtown, it's cheap, I like my house...
but it's a little bit ghetto. (A is reading over my shoulder here and he says it's a lot a bit of ghetto.) There is a mix of old people who have lived here for years, young couples, gay couples, weird hayseed types, and random ghetto trash of all races. It's pretty diverse.
And in general I have felt fairly safe here. We do have some really great neighbors. If you're not directly involved with say, dealing drugs, drug dealers aren't really going to pay you any mind. Hey, we even had a fairly cordial relationship with our resident crack dealer until he moved away. (Granted, this was after a huge group of neighbors along with a police escort and news cameras went and told him to clean his act up. Another story for another time.)

But this afternoon I took Charlie out to go to the bathroom after we got home from work and this huge pit bull, with the biggest chain collar I have ever seen, ran down the street. Charlie barked at her, not realizing he weighs six pounds, so she turned and started running at us. I scooped him up and yelled at the dog sternly. It stopped and just looked at us. I walked back into the house trying to be all hardcore and not let the dog know I had almost pissed myself. (After I thought about it I realized I knew this dog because she used to get out fairly often and was actually kind of sweet. But she could totally eat Charlie.) I told A and he stuck his head out the door to yell at the dog who was getting ready to take a huge dump in the middle of our yard.
As he's doing this, the dog's owner came down the sidewalk and yelled at A for yelling at his dog and STUPIDLY my husband talked back, telling the guy that we have leash laws and to get his dog before it shit in our yard. So they yelled some stuff back and forth about beating each others asses and I believe the guy promised to come back tonight.

I'm pissed at A for not backing off and placating the guy, though I know he feels bad and being pissed won't do any good. But now I am sitting in bed with my laptop instead of sitting in the living room, because how am I to know if this idiot won't do some sort of drive by?

I grew up in suburbia, people! I want my mommy.

And normally I am all "yay urban redevelopment! clean up the old houses! teeheee heeee I can live with crack whores!" But tonight I am a little more in the "Fuck, I should have let A talk me into buying a vinyl house with a 45 minute commute" feeling. I don't think I am going to sleep very well.
So yeah. Here's hoping that my house doesn't get broken, bulleted, or burnt. Same with my car.

Because I would hate to have to cut a bitch. But I will.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Just another drunk blogger. You ARE drunk too, right?

Oh yes, it was a glorious day. The sun was shining, the faces were smiling, and the beer was flowing.
I wasn't as able to get as pissass drunk as last year (never fear, I am still having to delete and retype half my words here, but the key is that I am coherent enough to know that I am wrong and go fix it. At least, I think I am. I may look at this tomorrow and wonder why anyone takes a damn thing I say seriously. Um, right-io then.)
What was I saying? Typing. Whatever. In my head it's comig out words, so you understand.
Yes. The day started well with the dogs in teh office.
Charlie and Betty were very interested to watch out the front door as people got ready to head over to the parade. R0ger, who is the world's biggest sweetheart, has to run out teh door because the second truck was leaving without him. This is his dog Magg*e, who is also a sweetheart. She doesnt bark or look cross unless you get out a broomm and them she will attack the broom. When she was a littel pup they would sweep her across the floor at teh station.

I think my typing is getting sloppy. Screw it, Im giving in. Hope you can still read this. If you care. If you don't then we both win!

After the ret*rees left for the parade, I went over to the unioon hall where the lovely Sc0tt (check the green pants - he was afraid he looked fat)
handed me this:
Lovely. Please note it is not green, just delicious.

I had to work for most of the event but I got a chance to eat my stew, drink a few more beers, and tkae a couple pictures so you can see what you should all come to next year. (I can house somebody for free, so whoever calls dibs...anyone? Cmon, you know you want to get runk with me.)
This is the beer tent.

This lady was awesome. i wonder how long it will take to get the green out. Or maybe this is just how she wears her hair all year. I don't judge.
And finally, if anyone wants to know why I am now deaf, watch this, press your computer's speakers to your ears and pretend it is 100x louder.




video

EDIT: Oh, and now looking at pictures, apparently I was already looking a bit bleary halfway through. This is me with B, a kick ass f*irefighter who, and Ge0rge, who is a very special helper.

Happy Best Holiday of the Year!

I wish you all the best of days on this most special day when we remember St. Patrick, who drove the snakes out of Ireland, by drinking beer. (We drink the beer, not St. Pat.)
I wish you could all join me at the union hall to drink beer, eat stew and have a grand time, but since you can't, I will raise a glass and drink to you.
Go n-eírí an bóthar leat.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
And may you all get knocked up.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Lazy, bad, and not yo momma.

You guys are all the best - thank you for your suggestions about what to do for my anniversary. I figure I have four and a half hours until A gets home for me to figure it out and start working on it.

(Yeah, I may have a small problem with procrastinating. But other than booking the site and buying a dress off the rack, I didn't do anything with my wedding until the week of. So putting this off is kind of like a tribute to our wedding, right? Right?)

We have decided to go down tomorrow to our favorite small town (where Shinejil lives! You should all go visit her) and have bagels where we used to go on Sundays to sit and read the paper. Then A is going to make me meatloaf and mashed potatoes (my favorite) and we'll drink the wine my best friend D gave us as a wedding gift. As for the rest, well, go read Kym's pasties suggestion two posts ago...

So, speaking of the fact that I am a LAZY. BAD. PERSON.
*cough*
I really am. And I am feeling awful about it. Remember a couple weeks ago when Mel had to take a time out from Lost and Found to ask about the Clicker system? I was thinking - gee, I've been a bad blogger in general lately, but I read my section's blogs most of the time and try to get important info turned in. And I was kind of offended by the original questioner saying that the Clickers had cliques and didn't turn in stuff that wasn't from their friends. Because it's *really* not like that at all. I turn in everyone's information. And I am *always* willing to make new friends. But I knew I needed to be better and update my list too.

And then today...
Oh Jesus. Now I am thinking it was probably somebody from my lists, because I have been the WORST CLICKER EVER. I realized I needed to go through and add blogs that have been added recently to my google reader, but Holy crappola. People, there were like 5570923 blogs that I have not been reading that I am supposed to be watching over. I am a dipshit. And don't try and tell me I'm not, because this is not about me - it's about all that incredible work Mel and others do to try and make sure everyone feels supported. I know there will be times when life gets busy and I miss something, but I am beyond horrified to realize that maybe somebody didn't feel supported because I was too lazy to check for new blogs to add to my google reader.
So. If I click for your category (Azoospermia, CBAVD, Clotting/Immunology, Endometriosis, Surrogacy, Varicocele) and there has been a time when you desperately wanted somebody to reach out and cry with you or celebrate with you or help you and it did not happen...

I am so, so very sorry. From the bottom of my heart.

Feel free to call me names and curse me. (Although, please do realize that I've already got infertility, a severely underemployed husband, and a yeast infection, so cursing me might not get you much more...)

I will do better. I promise.


-----
And in more Tales from Infertile Bitches...
I've been feeling very melancholy since last night. I went to my writing group (or as my friend M's five year old daughter exclaimed last night "It's not writing group! It's eating group!" The emperor has no clothes, people.) and while we were waiting for the third member B to arrive, I was playing with M's twenty month old, Lu. She was standing in front of me grabbing for a toy on the coffee table, and when she couldn't reach it she turned to me, grabbed my hand, and said "Mama! Mama!" in that way that means "Mom! Aren't you going to help me get this?"

Except of course that I'm not her mom.

And that moment of silence before M tried to quickly explain that Lu's been calling all women mama lately and then change the subject...
FUCK. It HURT. It hurt SO FUCKING MUCH.

Normally it doesn't really bother me being around M's kids. I'm like an aunt to them and they are awesome, just like their mom. It does stink that M suggested we try to get pregnant together (when I'd already been trying for eight months) and she now has an twenty month old and I have nothing, but FUCK. This was like somebody punching me out of nowhere. I couldn't breathe.

I hope Lu grows out of this calling all women "mama" stage quickly. Like before I see her again. My heart can't take that.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

ARGHHHHH. My nipples feel like they are being sliced up. Goddamn period.
(EDIT: OK, the death pangs stopped. Whew.)

Just had to share that. Now go read my last post and make a suggestion.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

You are SOOOOO pretty

You know what, I am cheap, which is one of the reasons why blogging works for me. Do you have any idea how much money y'all have saved me in therapy bills? It's amazing to throw stuff out into the universe and get responses back. I feel so blessed to be a part of this community. You are all goddesses.

Ok, now that I have you buttered up...*

Solve my problems!
Well, one of them. I probably can't expect any of you to knock me up or get A a job or perform liposuction on my thighs.

But perhaps you could help me with something a bit easier.

A and I have our fifth anniversary this Friday. Because he teaches a class from 6-10pm on Fridays (Yeah, I know, but it pays so...oh right. Poorly.) we are going to celebrate on Saturday. So here's the problem. I have no idea what to do for him. I need to think of something cheap and not too incredibly time consuming to prepare. And probably not food, what with him being a chef and almost poisoning him the first time I cooked for him and all. Anyone have any brilliant ideas?
Or not so brilliant ideas? I'll take anthing ya got.


Other random thing - anyone in Nashv*lle or thereabouts? I'm going to be on a jury for the f*lm fest down there in mid-April. (Which means that I have to watch 1054 minutes of film in the next month. Oy.) I'll be pretty busy watching f*lms, doing my duty, and of course going to fabulous! parties! but if anyone is in the area, I'd love to grab coffee.


*Everything in that first part is true though.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Odds and ends

Sadly, I think I have temporarily run out of gross body things to talk about. I know, I know...what good am I?

And the only exciting thing I have to talk about is that after somebody (no, amazingly not me!) in my office finished off the girl scout cookies, I got a call from my friend Jen saying that they had a box for me! So I once again have Samoas. Now I just have to keep from eating the whole box.

Ah. And I have found an excuse for my not blogging. Teh Charlie will not allow the typing while he is resting. Which is most of the time. Clearly my wrist is the best place for his head.

Of course, it could always be worse.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

I can kill a man with one blow.

I said I would post something else so that you had something other than my last post to look at. Of course, now he only thing I have to talk about is how bad my breath smells. A_ made fish and a caesar salad. The salad was the real deal with garlic and anchovies.

I could actually kill somebody by breathing on them right now. It is so not right. I'm about to go brush my teeth, but I think I will smell for the next few days.

Speaking of stinky breath, if anyone knows about whether babies are supposed to have stinky breath and if there is anything to do about it, go tell Rachel.


Ok, that's all I have for nasty bodily functions today. But don't worry - the garlic will no doubt migrate to my sweat tomorrow. Stay tuned.

EDIT: I have been terribly lazy and have neglected to put a gazillion people in my google reader. So if for some reason you want me leaving inane and insane comments on your blog (and don't already do it) tell me to whats what and to add you. Do it now while I am feeling guilty.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

You probably don't want to read this

Ok, fair warning here: If you don't want to hear about my yeast infection, stop reading now. I'll post something else soon enough and you can comment on that and pretend like you never read the last sentence.
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I assume I am now talking to myself.

I generally try not to take medication unless I'm really sick. I'll take something for cramps, but I usually wait until I have bitched and moaned for the first day before I grab the sweet relief of midol. When I quit smoking the doctor offered Ch.a.nt*x, but I wanted to go without anything so I quit cold turkey (Not that there is anything wrong with medicine, I don't care if you need an entire pharmacy to function, I just don't like taking pills.) And I really hate that people try and get antibiotics for every damn thing, even when it's clearly a virus. We're creating superbugs that will destroy us! Doom and gloom! World is ending! Etc.

But after three weeks of the flu, I became convinced that something bacterial might have settled in on top of it. So when the doctor offered antibiotics, I agreed.

It had been a while and I forgot about another side effect of antibiotics besides the destruction of the world - the destruction of my hooha. Oh the itching and burning. Not cool. Not cool at all.

And while last time I went all natural and used yogurt for a messy and slow but effective cure, this time I was feeling like I needed something a bit more immediate.

Two things:
1. The drugstore recently did a whole overhaul and moved everything around so you can't find it. I had to wander around the aisles confused because the signs haven't all been switched yet and while an aisle may *say* it's got the coochie cream, apparently it's now where they keep the crackers. Not the same. So I finally find the family planning and female this and that aisle only to find that they now keep the monistat locked up with the condoms and pregnancy tests.

I understand that because it's embarrassing to buy these things that people sometimes steal them and that the store is trying to cut back on theft. But it is much more embarrassing when you have to hunt down the old guy with the key so he can open the case for you and ask which one of the many difference yeast infection creams you would like. I mean really. I have little shame and a burning cooter, so I will do it, but the teenager that needs a condom? Might not be willing to suffer that.

2. I ran into my neighbor F in line. He smiled and said hello and then asked me "So what are you buying?"
Dude. I am holding something that is clearly marked with the word vaginal. Do you really want me to answer that?

That is all.

EDIT: Mwaha. At least I didn't make this a show and tell post!

Dancing on my couch

It's like 12:30 am and I need to go to bed, but I just want to state for the record (ya know, in case something changes) that I am feeling good. Like, sing the I'm feeling good song feeling good.


It's a combination of a few things (gratitude? s.e. is so good at doing this and I really admire it):
1. I am not sick anymore. With the colds/flu that I got multiples of and then would not go away, I seem to have been sick most of winter. And now being normal again is so different, its fantastic. I can BREATHE people. Oxygen is getting to my BRAIN!

2. The weather. My god, the weather. is. fantastic. It was in the high 60s today. Is it melodramatic of me that I could totally cry tears of joy that I didn't have to wear a coat? I don't care. It was awesome. I can feel myself welling up with gratitude to the weather gods just thinking about it.

3. Our big legislative conference hellcrap is over at work. The legislative session is still going and all that jazz, but planning this thing is no longer hanging over me. And it was fantastic. We totally kicked ass and everything went smoothly. Although I didn't get to go out Monday night after our reception because I was so damn tired. Which is probably for the best. Some of the guys were out until 1am. I'll party at our convention when I'll have a hotel room to collapse into. I am looking forward to it.

4. Speaking of parties with my guys, St. Patrick's day is coming up soon! Beer!

5. I got old school Super Mar*o Brot.hers 3 on the wii and it's terribly fun.

6. Because of this fantastic weather, Charlie and I went over to my friend B's house so we could walk him and her dog/Charlie's friend, Halle Straw.b.erry the C0met D0g. We walked a couple miles to get gyros and then sat out on her screened in porch with tea and chocolate. Is it totally pathetic that I carried Charlie a small part of the way? He got too tired to walk.

7. While we were walking I was talking to B about how I am a worst case scenorio kind of gal. I freak out thinking about the worst possible situations that could happen and compile and A and I will end up living on the streets. She mentioned how positive she is that we will have all the best possible situations happen. It's nice to have somebody who will reach in and drag you out of your self inflicted depression.

8. Speaking of kick ass friends, you know what really makes me happy? I am with my bloggy friends again.


Ok, A just lost again in the desert world of Mario, so it's time to take it to bed.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

No sex or rock'n'roll, just drugs

Well, the doctor I saw Thursday was pretty sure I would live and it appears that I have. By Saturday I was feeling a lot better, though I still have a wicked cough and clogged nose. My fever has gone away and I can stand up without feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen. The doctor prescribed me an inhaler which has been a big help. The only problem being that the new insurance I was so relived to finally get apparently has the crappiest prescription coverage EVER. I went to CVS where they charged me $42 for the inhaler. Insurance didn't cover a cent because it wasn't on their "approved" list of drugs, but I was so sick I didn't have the energy to fight it or figure out where it might be cheaper. I went home, took my drugs and went to bed at 5pm.
A of course hadn't gotten his diabetes medicine yet with the new insurance and after seeing what happened with me he called to ask why it wasn't covered - when we got the insurance it said something like $10 copay for generic, $20 for brand. Turns out, they don't cover some drugs for some reason - including one of his diabetes drugs. Which costs $200 a month. And there is no generic for it in the US.
Um, fuck.
So now we need to figure out how to buy Canadian drugs or something, because we're already paying more for our bills then we have coming in. Anna, I might be coming to visit.

ETA: Sorry I haven't caught up on commenting yet. Besides being sick, work has been really busy. We have a conference this week I've been getting ready for and I had to be at work today for it so although I know I am constantly full of shit I WILL get to you all soon.