"That" Will Not Stop My Pain

I don't answer the house phone. Why would I? Its not for me. Little princess owns that number. So sometimes it rings and rings. Lately, Big Princess has been answering it and pretending to be little princess to lp's friends.

There have been a lot of junk calls lately and Big Princess was getting fed up when the phone rang again. All I hear is "She's dead." I ask Big Princess why she would say that to little princess' friends and she said, "no it was just a telemarketer."

Yesterday, I get the following letter in the mail:

Dear Survey Household:
We're sorry if we upset you with our recent telephone call. We only want to ask you about your opinions on Radio listening, Newspaper reading and TV viewing.
Enclosed we have included a small gift to express our regret for having disturbed you. We want you to know that your participation 'is very important. The answers of someone in your household will represent thousands of people who were not invited to do the survey. We will try calling again. Perhaps our timing will be better!

People, I'm dead. I don't think the timing of your call will change that.

And what might their small gift be:

It wasn't even a new dollar bill. It was old and wrinkled.

Surely invented by men

I saw this product and just thought "why?" Maybe its just me but I've never had any problems/injuries while grooming that lead me to look for "safety gear". And I sure there are a few women who dye their pubic hair to match their "natural blonde" hair... but come on, how many? My fear of embarrassment would be that someone would see this product in my bathroom. Lastly, thank god for easy pull tabs. I know I'd hate to think of the alternative method of removal.

If you have ever injured yourself while removing or dying pubic hair, or you just don't ever want such an awful experience and would prefer some protection the Bikini Line Genie® was invented by a woman who knows this dilemma and has found a way to avoid sensitive area injuries by providing a contour fitting protective shield with an easy to reach tab for convenience and cleanliness. This simple yet effective device, when properly fitted, offers not only protection; it is extremely comfortable and simple to use, easy to follow instructions. Bikini Line Genie can be worn with no fear of embarrassment.

It works by tucking between your labia majora to cover your more sensitive labia minora, clitoris and blocks off the vaginal opening so no foreign materials may enter; now you may perform your personal grooming safely. The Bikini Line Genie has a convenient tab for easy removal and disposal. The illustrated instructions that come in every box will help guide you step by step so you can “Go Bare Without a Care".

It doesn't get any better

Mother's Day, or as I like to call it, Mother's Weekend.

I kicked off the celebration of Me on Friday night with dinner at Alamo Cafe (only one of the best places to hang out, eat Mexican food, and drink margaritas in the world). It was the complete and total family, me, Big Daddy, little princess, Big Princess, and Adopted Princess. We secure one of the best places in the joint, the backyard patio. Our waiter dropped by to take our drink orders and I asked, "What's your favorite margarita?" (and yes, they do come in flavors other than lime.) I still had my head buried in my menu as I hear Big Princess go, "ahhh, purple?" She thought I was going to let her order a margarita! ha ha ha

Saturday I got the minivan ready for vacation, new tires, state inspection sticker, oil change, mini tune up. Then I picked up Big Princess and shopped for stuff I don't need. I told Big Princess that Big Daddy would be pissed if I bought any more shoes but I knew she needed some so I was going to try to resist the urge by only looking at shoes in her size (approx. 2 sizes larger than mine). No good, no good. I found a pair of white, wedge sandals that lace up your ankles (just like the black pair I bought last week). On Sale! Oh well, Big Daddy thinks my black sandals are smoking hot so he probably won't mind a pair in white.

The youth made tacos for Moms on Sunday. Nothing says "I Love You" like tacos before church. Afterwards I took my ipod that had crapped out the night before back to Best Buy. The girl behind the counter was like "Ok, go pick out a new one." Shazam, new ipod! Then more shopping with the princess' and home for a nap. That night, Survivor Finale, Hagendaz coffee ice cream, and a foot rub with lotion.

Ahhh, I love being celebrated!

By little princess

A POEM FOR MY MOMMA

Yo Mamma's Day.
It's like a day for yo momma.
Don't give her no drama.
Let her wear her pajamas
while you watch a cartoon-o-rama.
So let momma enjoy her flowers and candy.
Let that peace and quiet come in handy,
And yo Momma's Day will be just dandy.

Sad and Sick or Sick and Sad

I came down with a nasty head cold on Sunday at the tail end of me and Big Daddy's "Adult Slumber Party". We ditched the kids and spent the weekend in a dreamy place where we were called by our first names, ate adult food and drank adult beverages. Where we cuddled mid-day without anyone making vomitting noises in the background.

But anyway... I've been hit hard. I came home early Monday, stayed home Tuesday, came to work drugged to the hilt Wednesday, and today I'm just trying to hold on to my sanity with both hands while my head throbbs, yellow mucus pours from my red, raw nose, and I hold the ovary that I coughed up in my left hand.

What's the first thing that happens today? I get an employee termination notice from the HR Director. Hmmm, that's odd. Her staff normally email me the terminations. I open it to see that one of my best friends has been "terminated as of late last night". Holy fucking shit. The one day I didn't talk to him in the last 2 months and he's fired.

Wait... terminated as of late last night? I'm notified by the HR Director? Oh, this is beyond bad.

I call his cell phone and its acting funny, not ringing. I call his home phone and its been disconnected. I'm a little freaked out at this point. I ponder who I can call for information that will: A. have the correct info (not the 50 rumors that are already rampant) and B. will feel comfortable giving me the info, and C. won't get in trouble for telling me.

Only a couple of people that meet all the criteria come to mind. I call one and tell him "hey, I understand if you can't talk about it... but what the fuck happened?" That's all I had to say, he knew exactly what I was talking about. He gave me a brief run down before someone walked into his office and he couldn't talk any more. Let's just say a drunk CEO fired my extremely drunk friend at an after hours function.

That's just bad juju ma gumbo.

My friend finally calls me at 3 pm. He tells me his side of the story and I inquire if there is any way to put this right. He said no, it was beyond repair. He's a proud guy and I didn't think he'd beg for his job. He's worked here for 20 years and now its all gone.

I'm just so very, very sad.

Hoff the wagon

Oh how it hurts to watch the video of David Hasselhoff drunk and rolling around the hotel floor while trying to eat a hamburger. The former 'Baywatch' star claims to be a recovering alcoholic and other times he says he doesn't have a problem. Come on, you look like shit. I can smell you through the TV. How could you let your daughter see you like that? Pull it together man.

How I enjoyed Knight Rider as a kid. The Hoff always won the day. (or was it the night?) He was more mature during the Baywatch years but still winning at the end of the (swimsuit) season. I even get a kick out of him now. Like when he sang "Jump in my Car" on America's Got Talent... No wait, I didn't watch America's Got Talent... I don't even know what America's Got Talent is...

But back to the video

I understand the pain and loneliness of divorce (even though I haven't been divorced). My mother's been divorced five times so I've got plenty of experience. I've also seen several of my friends try to drink away the empty feelings. They have all eventually made it out of the dark with help and support from family and friends. I hope the Hoff does too.

No matter how painful it is for me to watch, I can only imagine how hard it must be for his daughters to live through.

I'm bringing sexy back

So I'm at the gym, running on the treadmill next to my workout buddy, the Milkman. Now the treadmills are on a 2nd floor balcony that overlooks the free weight area.

We're running along and I'm telling him stories about crazy crap my co-workers do, like letting their ass cracks show at work--on purpose. Suddenly, we hear a high pitched, but definitely male, shriek. I start giggling. Without missing a beat, the Milkman says, "that's the sound you make when one of your testicles gets sucked up into your body."

BAM!! I bust up laughing, miss my step, lose my footing, and whoopsie, fall face first on to the treadmill which proceeds to kick me to the curb. Apparently you are supposed to put your hands down when you fall and I end up skinning my nose. I'm laying on the floor, holding my face, and laughing so hard I pee my pants (just a little).

Dr. Feel Good

My hip is bothering me. Giving birth to Big Princess ruined my young supple body. My hips didn't spread during pregnancy like they should have. Now 20 years later I still suffer occassionally from a nerve that gets trapped in the hip socket. So I'm just walking along and BAM, severe pain, can't bear weight, drag leg behind me, etc. I held out about 4 days thinking it would get better on its on but no luck. I called my smokin hot chiropractor and got an appointment in 45 min.

I walked in and complete my paperwork. The nurse? says the doctor will have to re-evaluate since I haven't been seen in the last 6+ months. (He fixed a rotator cuff problem about a year ago.) I'm like, sue me for feeling good. They take me back to the exam room and I sit there waiting for the good (looking) doctor to see me.

He walks in and does a double take.

"You've lost weight since I've seen you."

"A little", I confess.

"A little? Wow, you look great."

Now I'm just smiling.... thru the pain.

He examines me, asks some questions, and proclaims my right leg is shorter than the left. "Oh, goody." He says some ice and electric shock therapy will warm up the muscles before he adjusts me. So I lay face down for 20 minutes with ice on my back and pads on my butt cheeks, shocking me and causing my cheeks to involuntarily clench up.

Then, on to traction. He has me lay face up on a table and stretches my "short" leg. It only goes to about 35 degrees in the air before I black out from the pain. He twists and stretches it around and around, seemingly looking for the point I bite his hand off in pain.

He then comes around the other side to torture my "longer" leg. He lifts it straight up and tells me to tell him when it hurts. He gets it to about 145 degrees when I ask if he plans to pull it over my head "because that's an advanced yoga move and I'm only in the intermediate class." He laughs, "you are extremely flexible." "Thanks, I know my husband appreciates it."