tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44817548343036507172024-02-07T16:37:08.391-08:00OH FOR PETE'S SAKE!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.comBlogger193125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-30343209514847916382012-03-08T05:18:00.001-08:002012-03-08T05:18:11.438-08:00A Pile Of Appendages<p>The differences between boys and girls is way more than who’s got the balls.  </p> <p>Seriously.  I have a fourteen year old daughter who was an angel as an infant, not too difficulty as a toddler, a lot of fun as a preschooler, a little trying as a grade-schooler……and now quite challenging as a young lady in high school.</p> <p>My five year old daughter was just a <em>little</em> challenging as an infant because of her milk allergy, but as a toddler she was brilliant, and now as a preschooler she can probably manage our finances and schedules better than I can.</p> <p>Now, my Little Man…he just turned FOUR yesterday……he was head-strong as an infant, giving up his bottle on his own before he turned a year old, not wanting to be cuddled before bed, but choosing to sleep in his car seat, climbing everything and anything, being my reason for having to baby-proof my home for the first time evahh.</p> <p>It’s the Little Man that was the reason for me hollering, </p> <p><font color="#ff0080" size="3"><strong><em>“Do you want me to chop off your hands???”</em></strong></font> </p> <p><font color="#ff0000" size="5"><strong>“CHOP – CHOP!!!”</strong></font></p> <p>when I heard him ask his sister,</p> <p><font color="#0000ff" size="3"><strong><em>“Do you want me to flick you??  Do you???”  </em></strong></font></p> <p>Geez….where does he get this from?  </p> <p>It was also the Little Man that had me asking,</p> <p><font color="#ff0080" size="3"><strong><em>“Shall I cut off your feet too???”</em></strong></font> </p> <p><font color="#ff0000" size="5"><strong>“CHOP – CHOP!!!”</strong></font></p> <p>when I saw him kick the dog.</p> <p><font size="1">(Trust me here, I did an image search on Google to find a pile of hands and feet to post, and what I got was a bit disturbing so I nixed that idea right away)</font></p> <p>I am not proud of threatening to chop off the appendages of my littlest one.  No.  I am not proud.</p> <p>I had to back track and figure out how to go about this in a not so violent way.  </p> <p>I truly believe that kids learn some of their behaviors although boys tend to learn a lot of the ones that we wish they would ignore.  Girls tend to learn the “words”…..yeah, I’ve had to cut way back on my potty mouth.</p> <p>A few days ago while driving home after picking up the little ones, Little Man was in one of his I’mgoingtodoeverythingIcantopissyouoff moods and he was repeating everything I was saying.  </p> <p>I hate this.</p> <p>I <em>really really</em> hate this.</p> <p>But, I am an adult and I know how to ignore.  (It’s just a phase, right??)</p> <p>Then he started trying to reach over to pull Lil Lady’s hair.  She kept telling him to stop it.  Then he was trying to reach her with his foot while being buckled in his car seat.  She was getting pissed.</p> <p>Between his evil giggle, repeating what I was saying, then repeating Lil Lady’s “STOP IT!!” every time she said it, the tension in the car was building.  </p> <p>I holler out, </p> <p><font color="#008000" size="4"><strong><em>“Manny!!!  Do you want me to smack you????”</em></strong></font></p> <p>Only to get a response from my Lil Lady Einstein…..</p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="3"><strong><em>“Mom…..remember??   CHOP – CHOP??”</em></strong></font></p> <p>How about if we just keep our hands to ourselves??</p> <p>Ok….proud Mommy moment of the <strike>year </strike>DECADE.  As I was doing a Google search for “keep your hands to yourself” to find an image to add to this here post, guess who’s pic I come across?</p> <p>First I saw this:</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2z0y2zkZ2p0/T1ixgTdl12I/AAAAAAAACuk/RqSNr3HGzx0/s1600-h/yogabba9.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="yo gabba" border="0" alt="yo gabba" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mZY9pbqEJXw/T1ixhK2SXLI/AAAAAAAACus/v87XY2xAaN4/yogabba_thumb7.jpg?imgmax=800" width="296" height="224" /></a></p> <p>Ok, so Yo Gabba Gabba sings a song about keeping your hands to yourself.  </p> <p>Then I saw this:</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-d_02srwK0rs/T1ixhg4ldTI/AAAAAAAACu0/cTfaqTszrs0/s1600-h/hands5.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="hands" border="0" alt="hands" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-1hSxEcIhPJ8/T1ixiISmKgI/AAAAAAAACu8/6I0dqLyXPUs/hands_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="241" height="184" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Cute.  I may print that and hang it on my fridge.</p> <p>Then……and here comes the moment I take a bow.  </p> <p>I see THIS:</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-H6nacmWPwfw/T1ixiQgisrI/AAAAAAAACvE/NrkaYyH6bVA/s1600-h/Manny35.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Manny3" border="0" alt="Manny3" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7d7itpQ_kyU/T1ixkIXYNPI/AAAAAAAACvM/wtVWISllerI/Manny3_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="317" height="239" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>OMG!!  You don’t get it, do you??  That, my dear friends, is </p> <p align="center"><font color="#008000" size="4"><strong><em>MY Little MAN!!</em></strong></font></p> <p>What on earth is he doing under a Google search for “keep your hands to yourself”????  What have I done???</p> <p>Yep.  </p> <p>I am not proud.</p> <p>No sir-ee.</p> <p>(But he is awfully cute, isn’t he??)</p> <p>Have a great day!  Link up with these lovely ladies!!</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://thedailydribbles.com/2012/03/proud-mommy-moments-conversations-with-buster/"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="PMMButtonF" border="0" alt="PMMButtonF" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dqxRH1I9zIo/T1ixkXU-YLI/AAAAAAAACvU/PGkG_tvtfNE/PMMButtonF%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="189" height="258" /></a> </p> <p>   </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><strong><em><font color="#8000ff" size="3"></font></em></strong></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-45541892897847003532012-03-04T19:31:00.001-08:002012-03-04T19:31:18.647-08:00Baby Sitter Saga #258<p>Seriously….are there any good babysitters out there any more?  I have gone through several.  </p> <p>My Dad.</p> <p>He did well with Lil Lady.  Until she was able to move from point A to point B.  Really.  He did well.  Sometimes didn’t get her diaper on quite right.  And once he called me to tell me to hurry home because Lil Lady puked all over him, but all in all it wasn’t too bad.</p> <p>After my Dad couldn’t babysit anymore, and I had Little Man on the way….my sister babysat.  She was da bomb!!  She spent time with Lil Lady and didn’t just let her watch anything on TV.  She actually monitored what she watched, what she played with, what she ate or didn’t eat.  It was awesome.  And when Little Man came into this world, she treated him as one of her own.</p> <p>Of course all good things must come to an end.  Damn my big sis for wanting to actually get her nursing degree.  Yep, she flew my coop to better herself.  I told her she was good enough right where she was, babysitting my kiddos so I could be the nurse in the family.</p> <p>She left me anyways.</p> <p>She is now an awesome Hospice Nurse.</p> <p>And I struggle with babysitters….</p> <p>STILL.</p> <p>One of the prior sitters seemed to have our roles confused.  She was certain it was ME that needed to work around HER availability.  Yeah…. <font color="#000080" size="3"><strong><em></em></strong></font><a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2010/06/shit-happens.html"><font color="#000080" size="3"><strong><em>shit happens</em></strong></font></a>.  It definitely does.  Why is it I keep finding myself in the situation to REMIND the sitter of who the fuck is in charge?  <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2010/06/whos-in-charge-here.html"><font color="#000080" size="3">I AM IN CHARGE.</font></a></p> <p>Dammit.</p> <p>And Dammit, again.</p> <p>After having my nephew’s wife and often times my nephew babysitting for a while, I found another sitter.  This time we would be taking the kids to her house instead of someone coming here and helping themselves to my groceries for the week.</p> <p>Awesome!  Yes?</p> <p>No.</p> <p>Not really.  </p> <p>At first it was the normal “I don’t want to go to (I won’t say <strike>Bobbi’s</strike> the sitter’s name here) <em><strong>her</strong></em> house!”</p> <p>Ugh.  Every morning it was the same thing.  It never got better.  Never.  Ever.  Ever.</p> <p>I witnessed a few things at this sitter’s home which I won’t go into detail about because you’d think me insane for continuing to take my children there.  I heard a lot of things from my Lil Lady that made me squirm a little bit more than I would have liked.  I heard from Little Man how he was always in time out.  </p> <p>The last few incidents with my kiddos over there were enough for me.  Let me tell you, this sitter rarely got her ass up off the couch….even when I would come pick up my kids.  She would just sit there.  I often wondered if she EVER got up.  I would ask Lil Lady things like…”Does Bobbi ever move?”  She would say, “Yes, Mom.  She has to feed us sometimes.”</p> <p>Just “sometimes’??</p> <p>Ugh.</p> <p>The last day they were there, I walked into the toy room to gather them up.  Lil Lady said, “Bobbi said I drew on this toy.  I told her I didn’t.  She made me wash it anyways.”</p> <p>Huh?</p> <p>I didn’t even get to respond when Mrs. Idon’tmovemyassfromthecouch is right there behind me.  She asked if Lil Lady just said she MADE her clean the toy.  I said yes, yes she did say that.</p> <p>She looked at my Lil Lady and said, </p> <p>“I didn’t say that, did I, Lil?  Did I??  DID I????”</p> <p>“I would not say that.  DID I SAY THAT LIL??”</p> <p>My Lil Lady was fearful.  I could see it in her eyes.  I heard it in her voice when she said in barely a whisper…..</p> <p>“No, Bobbi.”</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZFjozZkLfDk/T1QzfBtf59I/AAAAAAAACt0/UMN87FCuwkc/s1600-h/wonderwoman%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="wonderwoman" border="0" alt="wonderwoman" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-GK2X14iRQbY/T1QzfmAR_3I/AAAAAAAACt8/gYGd6MUsTWk/wonderwoman_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="305" height="207" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>OhhhhmyyyyyeffingggggGodddddddd.</p> <p>You did NOT just terrorize my kid right before my eyes, did you?</p> <p>What does she do when I am NOT there to protect my babies???  </p> <p>Then I noticed the lips.</p> <p>My 5 year old had lipstick on.  Ok.  So I know how little girls like to play with make up.  This lipstick was a little much….not just on the lips but a little bit more ABOVE the lips….sort of clown-ish.  I told Lil Lady I wanted to fix her lipstick, you know, get it off her skin and just have it on her lips.  I wet the papertowel.  I start to wipe.  </p> <p>Nothing comes off.</p> <p>NOTHING.</p> <p>WHAT THE FUCK IS ON MY KIDS LIPS?????</p> <p>Lil Lady says, “Bobbi says it will stay on for two days.  Two days, Mom!”  Pretty exciting, no?</p> <p>NO.  No and no and NO!!!</p> <p>Bobbi said “it will stay on for a little while”.  She tried to find the lightest color……blah blah blah.</p> <p>It was PURPLE.  <font color="#8000ff" size="3">Fucking PURPLE!</font></p> <p>I was livid.  You don’t put lip <font color="#8000ff" size="3"><strong>STAIN </strong></font>on someone else’s child.  You don’t.  You DO NOT.  What if she had an allergy??  And this stuff didn’t wipe off!!</p> <p>Seriously.</p> <p>Brainless people.  </p> <p>Because I am resourceful, I found another sitter.  Just like that.  </p> <p>HA!</p> <p>In yo face, Bobbi!!</p> <p>When I told Bobbi we weren’t coming back because my kids are not happy and you don’t do anything with them and you are a lousy-ass sitter and you terrorized my child in front of me and you made her lips purple without my permission….she had the nerve to say…</p> <p>“I think I deserve a two week notice.  I need to find your replacement.”</p> <p>What the Fuck??  Seriously? </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8GbBjZ-WMyE/T1Qzf9LuoaI/AAAAAAAACuE/Ih3SY8fPVxs/s1600-h/wonka%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="wonka" border="0" alt="wonka" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Pmff06dFCsM/T1QzgZ_QwQI/AAAAAAAACuM/V-F7s8FCAvc/wonka_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="288" height="288" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>I think not.  No.  No two week notice.  I just said my kids aren’t happy.  And if my kids aren’t happy, I’m not happy.  </p> <p>Since when does someone get fired AND be given 2 weeks to find another job?  Since when??  </p> <p>I pray, and I pray and I pray….and I don’t normally pray….but my God, I’ve been PRAYING that this new sitter is all she appears to be.</p> <p>It’s so good not to hear I don’t want to go to Bobbi's!!  Instead I have been hearing…</p> <p>“Aren’t you ready yet, Mom??  Can’t we go now?  Hurry up!”</p> <p>Yes.</p> <p>There IS a God.</p> <p>Trust me, when Little Man loves someone, he loves with his whole heart.  He asked me, after just two days at the new sitter’s house, </p> <p>“Mom, can I be her owner?”</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zcXltXLpohg/T1Qzg-0CCoI/AAAAAAAACuU/PU9J94eOHVg/s1600-h/Mannysnow%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Mannysnow" border="0" alt="Mannysnow" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHKDT2eXrlxFubIDwu-OL1WEMYbpG9eEQ1UVdNcfveQxrVDssadw-taDSAw9gzndr-uUqqyyO0AslE5vHWR-ki3T_E8hRoCiZJky3VX2Cn1TaZ_tLjlVwLxSY1jlUVnp2Ufwfh6r8VPuU/?imgmax=800" width="301" height="228" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Ahhh….Manny…..sure you can.  But we don’t “own” people…ok?</p> <p>“Okay, Mom.”</p> <p>If you know the language of the short people, you know all he meant was that he’s smitten with the new sitter.  And this, my friends, is a FIRST.  </p> <p>Keep your fingers crossed for all of us!</p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-54895177039786593312012-02-20T17:41:00.001-08:002012-02-20T17:41:47.374-08:00A Wrinkle or Three<p>As I filled my pillbox this morning I thought….WTF?  Am I getting old or what?  I fill my PATIENT’S pill boxes, not my OWN.  I’ve tried filling Mr. Sake’s but I think he’s afraid I will see that he is non-compliant so he nixed that idea immediately.  Said I “messed him up” or something like that.</p> <p>(insert eye roll here)</p> <p>I KNOW I have <strike>a thousand and one</strike> some wrinkles.  Sometimes wrinkles just come with stress.  Sometimes with age.  In my case?  Probably both.  </p> <p>I wake up looking like this:</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8FLjqvfpNzo/T0L2QAwcEOI/AAAAAAAACsM/c7uAeTwWkMc/s1600-h/wrinkles24.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="wrinkles2" border="0" alt="wrinkles2" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-h5du9xweixA/T0L2QvsiELI/AAAAAAAACsU/H4Hkw-63wjQ/wrinkles2_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="236" height="213" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>See the eye puffiness?</p> <p>Sucks.</p> <p>I go to bed looking like this:</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8uXGeo6AVfU/T0L2QyhZ-eI/AAAAAAAACsc/kW2eGy6ptak/s1600-h/wrinkles14.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="wrinkles1" border="0" alt="wrinkles1" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-w6ZHpfYmMA8/T0L2ReuHxTI/AAAAAAAACsk/H_SABIX4wiI/wrinkles1_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Puffiness is less, yes?  No, really….look closely.  See it now?</p> <p>In all fairness, my kids look like this….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mppxkZwd53k/T0L2RgoH4MI/AAAAAAAACss/QJ7AO4DOuJw/s1600-h/wrinkles34.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="wrinkles3" border="0" alt="wrinkles3" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zEw5MlyVOas/T0L2SD5QO2I/AAAAAAAACs0/cgnQK9dXLN8/wrinkles3_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="196" height="240" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Oh, wait….I have three kids.  Not four.  Or maybe I do have four….??</p> <p>Shit.</p> <p>Anywhoozle, it’s BECAUSE of the kids that I am the way I am.  I had my first when I was just turning thirty.  That wasn’t so bad.  I could deal with one, I was fairly young still, I had it handled.  I was SUPERMOM!!!</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-1C8rnW3-LVQ/T0L2SpbKf-I/AAAAAAAACs8/8YCX69MJnZo/s1600-h/bam%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="bam" border="0" alt="bam" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Dj6pA_xvSLY/T0L2UBK2XQI/AAAAAAAACtE/W1nylQxGlbw/bam_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="199" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Then, somehow, somewhere….<font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em>ten years</em></strong></font> down the road another one arrived.  Lil Lady.</p> <p>Ok, yeah….the oldest was 10, I was nearly 40 but who cares, right?  I can DO this, I told myself.  </p> <p>And I did it.  Some help from Mr. Sake was well appreciated.  Also had some help from the first born until she got shit upon (literally)….so much for “big-sister-babysitter”.</p> <p>Then I woke up one morning and saw that there was ONE MORE added to the bunch.  Little Man.</p> <p>Wherethefuckdidhecomefrom I wanted to know.  And I wanted to know IMMEDIATELY.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Bz4sHRdcct0/T0L2UtCcdnI/AAAAAAAACtM/of11i1zwrSM/s1600-h/images165.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (16)" border="0" alt="images (16)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiirgjDTYbBUSl-C_2i2xLn0-PfA0I8sq7KiXlLW0zYO5rAx3qWkFeKP_inmeyVBy0WNFBAuSpuUhaZ_pkUVviTX-jqtrN9RKfBY9FCs_QaMno3oV0yg1GznsVn7SE5FpXmqkd68p4ZpFCB/?imgmax=800" width="282" height="269" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Seriously.  I’ve been known to sit around and ponder my life and think….where the hell did these short people come from??  And that’s exactly how it feels. </p> <p>One day it was me and one child, then it was me, a spouse and THREE children.  So, when I look in the mirror and see the wrinkles, I know <font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>exactly</em></strong></font> why they are there.  It has nothing to do with being old. </p> <p>It has EVERYTHING to do with having kids.</p> <p>The ones around my eyes are from the countless ways my children can make me laugh.  My oldest has a sense of humor that should be bottled and sold as a cure for PMS.  </p> <p>The ones around my mouth are from the kazillion times these kids have made me smile.</p> <p>The ones on my forehead are from “the look” I need to give them when they are doing something <strike>that they know I will kick their asses for</strike> that causes me to raise my eye brows.</p> <p>The ones between my brows are a different story.  The kids cannot take full credit for them.  These wrinkles are the most special.  They belong to not only the kids, but the spouse as well.  You know the look.  It’s the <strike>are you fucking kidding me?? </strike>“what did you just say???”  look.  You know it.  I am sure.  And you know it well.</p> <p>Regardless, I will embrace my wrinkles each day.  </p> <p>As for the gray hairs I have noticed popping up here and there?  </p> <p>There’s an app, I mean, there’s a <font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>color</em></strong></font> for that, I’m sure!!</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lr5AD8Oq3-I/T0L2WAgnDKI/AAAAAAAACtc/m3RJtrVsrnU/s1600-h/rainbow%252520hair%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="rainbow hair" border="0" alt="rainbow hair" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kersNkSOyeE/T0L2WWOZaiI/AAAAAAAACtk/dEi9vlOqoI4/rainbow%252520hair_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="263" height="308" /></a></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-84694013939569380082012-02-15T19:19:00.001-08:002012-02-15T19:19:29.502-08:00Do You Want to Be on Top??<p>Valentine’s Day……</p> <p>How was yours?  Mine started off with work.  I rushed through seeing a few patients before I had my own doctor’s appointment.  At my appointment I found out that my B12 level is extremely low.  Hmmmm……</p> <p>I don’t eat enough meat.</p> <p>It’s not that I’m a vegetarian, because I don’t eat vegetables either.</p> <p>I just choose to get my energy from other sources.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FJQUkfX_wcI/Tzx1oq0jpeI/AAAAAAAACqc/kUECAXopO5k/s1600-h/coffee%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="coffee" border="0" alt="coffee" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aX8pY4KgEj8/Tzx1pIIeLHI/AAAAAAAACqk/ksomBrNXSSk/coffee_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="160" height="240" /></a></p> <p>I could live on White Chocolate Mochas.  In fact, I think I do.  And my blood work proved it.</p> <p>So, I left the doc with a script in hand for B12 injections that I have to give myself weekly.  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-P6upahLJEdg/Tzx1pmUojsI/AAAAAAAACqs/HNVyEcJ0iP4/s1600-h/B12.2%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="B12.2" border="0" alt="B12.2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXreZNDDRqRoyU4XBqSuXQ_aa6bkc2hAzSoJkwNIxwFPfqbPbt49Y_2YoqXpJe2V5SVssKlvsZaXDLwRoBRk_XQE3S-gDTCdOkIaqB7QAVYaF3yoM5Uu4e2K7RQpWH3-hz7DJSkuE56uW/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a> </p> <p>I can do this.  I. Am. A. Nurse.</p> <p>Fuck.  (that’s an entirely different blog post, I’m certain)</p> <p>After my visit I had to pick up the teen from school.  Then off I went to pick up the short people from the sitter’s.  Lil Lady not feeling well.  Turns out she has “slight pneumonia”.  Really??  Is that like being “slightly pregnant”??  Also Little Man who was  just on antibiotics last week for one ear infection now has a double ear infection.  You’d never know by the way he was tearing up the doctor’s office.</p> <p>After this visit I had to pick up all of our meds from the pharmacy.</p> <p>After dropping kids off at home I had to run to a store quickly to get little Valentine’s gifts that I should have already gotten but didn’t because I’m such an <strike>awesome mom</strike> idiot.  Seriously…I had plenty of opportunities to do this.  I am a slug.</p> <p>As I’m in the store having a conversation with some guy asking if I thought his girlfriend who always asks him to reach the remote would like one of these “grabber looking things”, the spouse calls to say a co-worker has stopped over to pick up a piece of equipment for work that I said she could use.  The equipment that was in my car, in the parking lot, at Five Below, and not at home.</p> <p>It was a rush rush rush all day that I totally forgot I told her I would be home.</p> <p>“Fuck!”</p> <p>“Fuck Valentine’s Day!”</p> <p>And that’s exactly what I said to the spouse on the phone.  He gives the phone to the co-worker and I say, as sweet as can muster up….</p> <p>“Heyyyyy…yeah…..I forgot.  I’m so so sorry.  Wanna run up here to Five Below?  Yeah?  Ok…thanks!  See you soon!  I’ll wait outside for you!!  K!  Buh-byeeee!”</p> <p><font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em>Shit.</em></strong></font></p> <p>The guy examining the “grabber looking thing” looks at me and says, “well??”  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1_FU2X4Sbac/Tzx1r-KCM9I/AAAAAAAACq8/3pGUWcYQcVo/s1600-h/images%252520%25252815%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (15)" border="0" alt="images (15)" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QDkhDC-GH7U/Tzx1sYNSytI/AAAAAAAACrE/BnVX57W_D9o/images%252520%25252815%252529_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="226" height="223" /></a></p> <p>I said, “I don’t know…I got my husband steak knives.”</p> <p>He says….</p> <p>“Fuck.”</p> <p>Exactly, buddy….exactly.  </p> <p>I just can’t get it all done.</p> <p>I can’t.</p> <p>But I did.  In the car, I shoved the little goodies in the bags, shoved in the tissue paper, made the gifts look pretty….and home I went.</p> <p>The spouse had his gift for me sitting on the bed first thing this morning.  I refused to open it because I didn’t have his put together yet.  It takes a bit to make steak knives look like an awesome gift ya know.  </p> <p>But look.  Just LOOK at what I got!!</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_w759EnZ1xk/Tzx1sxFPrvI/AAAAAAAACrM/wlZZZEaTkHk/s1600-h/IMG01161-20120214-2046%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG01161-20120214-2046" border="0" alt="IMG01161-20120214-2046" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vQgCAirnA38/Tzx1tbRSK7I/AAAAAAAACrU/d7K5S0VayrM/IMG01161-20120214-2046_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Awesome, yes??</p> <p>So, then I asked…..</p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>“Oh, do YOU want to be on top??” </em></strong></font></p> <p><strong><em><font color="#8000ff" size="4"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8-h_hcMpPq4/Tzx1t0gYLWI/AAAAAAAACrc/dkMKOH1rVcM/s1600-h/IMG01160-20120214-2045%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG01160-20120214-2045" border="0" alt="IMG01160-20120214-2045" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7HKFRSaVvaI/Tzx1vOfzUzI/AAAAAAAACrk/OyBhYkS6fnU/IMG01160-20120214-2045_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a> </p> <p>He had the nerve to say…</p> <p><font color="#0000a0" size="4"><strong><em>“I’m a little tired of being on top.”</em></strong></font></p> <p>Seriously, Mr. Sake??</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V74ilqsfLIw/Tzx1vkNPAuI/AAAAAAAACrs/uwfbTzz1qhM/s1600-h/IMG01164-20120215-2107%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG01164-20120215-2107" border="0" alt="IMG01164-20120215-2107" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n7FCJiPvods/Tzx1vw97t4I/AAAAAAAACr0/zDWD7M1uwgg/IMG01164-20120215-2107_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="289" height="219" /></a> </p> <p>Looks a little lonely in that recliner, doesn’t it??</p> <p>Hope you all had a great Valentine’s Day!!</p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-32343312002702220232012-02-09T18:21:00.001-08:002012-02-09T18:21:17.049-08:00Change? Hell No!<p>I logged onto my blog the other day and noticed it didn’t look like my blog.  Instead of 3 columns, there was one….and the rest of my stuff was sitting down below all my posts.</p> <p>If you know me, and even if you don’t, you can imagine my anxiety.  </p> <p>I spent all of Monday evening trying to fix it.</p> <p>I spent all of Tuesday evening trying to fix it.</p> <p>Anxiety??</p> <p>I was more than anxious.</p> <p>I was PISSED OFF!</p> <p>I wanted my old template back and I wanted it back NOW.</p> <p>I tried consulting <a href="http://advice.realdadshangout.com/"><font color="#008040" size="4"><strong><em>Real Dad</em></strong></font></a>…..</p> <p>Oh, yeah….he asked if I was certain I wasn’t putting my things in the “footer widget” or something like that.</p> <p>I told him I was sure. </p> <p>Then I informed him kindly…..<font color="#0000ff" size="3"><strong><em>if he didn’t figure this out I was going to footer HIM in the WIDGET!</em></strong></font></p> <p>He then thought he’d get all technical on me and started talking some computer lingo about <em><strong>getting into my backend</strong></em> or something like that.  He said I could change my password when he was done.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ewGwr3dm18w/TzR_DGcHmVI/AAAAAAAACpw/WQs1InBPP1k/s1600-h/ahem%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="ahem" border="0" alt="ahem" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-cLkRFwCzTtI/TzR_D48idDI/AAAAAAAACp4/ixKMU7yB0RU/ahem_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="288" height="218" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>I do not like change.</p> <p>I go to the same gas station, the same pump, buy the exact same amount of gas each time, shop at the same grocery store, go to the same coffee shop and order the same damn thing every every EVERY day…..</p> <p>Change sucks.</p> <p>I spent all of Wednesday evening trying to fix it.</p> <p>I <font color="#008040" size="3"><strong><em>DESPISE </em></strong></font>change.</p> <p>I tried starting from scratch but this also did not work.</p> <p>Mr. Sake enters the room.  He sees I am stressing out.  He sees I’m about to cry.  He sees that he needs to step in and take over.  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4HozKrgfH1o/TzR_EborncI/AAAAAAAACqA/MJJ3BsC7_nY/s1600-h/i%252520got%252520it%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="i got it" border="0" alt="i got it" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DThANmqofhI/TzR_E8-Ei0I/AAAAAAAACqI/_de9efIR2eI/i%252520got%252520it_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="218" height="286" /></a> </p> <p>Mr. Sake also hates change.  </p> <p>Mr. Sake also knows that if this issue isn’t fixed like A.S.A.P. there is going to be hell to pay until it IS fixed.</p> <p>Mr. Sake also doesn’t have any experience with Blogger.  Or Wordpress.  Or Anyothertypeofbloggingservice.</p> <p>I was scared.</p> <p>Even though I do not get to blog as often as I would like, I take pride in my design.  </p> <p>There is not enough Xanax in the world to calm my ass down.</p> <p>Here’s me all youdon’tknowwhatthefuckyouaredoing and youcouldscrewupthewholedamnthingworsethanitis!!!</p> <p>I just KNOW he’s gonna fuck it up. </p> <p>I’m sorry, honey….you scare me sometimes.</p> <p>It has something to do with you acting before thinking.  Then saying “I didn’t know THAT would happen….”</p> <p> </p> <p> <img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (14)" border="0" alt="images (14)" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-M2zh_QWMDO0/TzR_FRStvAI/AAAAAAAACqQ/qMkacHU3Gv8/images%252520%25252814%252529_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="210" height="240" /></p> <p> </p> <p>It’s been a full moon.</p> <p>So, 3 days, 22 hours, 248 minutes, 22 xanax and 918 seconds later….</p> <p><font color="#800080" size="4"><strong><em>SUCCESS!</em></strong></font></p> <p>I don’t know how.</p> <p>I don’t know when.</p> <p>I don’t know if I could ever fix it again.</p> <p>I DO know I saved the fucking template this time.</p> <p><font color="#800080" size="4"><strong><em>Booyah!!! </em></strong></font></p> <p><font color="#ff0080" size="5"><strong><em>Bastards!!</em></strong></font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-31516694858461333942011-11-18T13:07:00.001-08:002012-02-08T12:35:36.027-08:00Friends with BenefitsToday I found myself in the position of asking my 14 year old daughter what her “boyfriend” meant by a “friend with benefits”. No parenting class and no amount of research in the world on how to raise a teenager could have prepared me for this. Am I that stupid??<br />
This is how it went down:<br />
<span style="color: #ff0080;"><strong>The Teen:</strong></span> Mom, can I go to the movies with [insert boyfriend’s name here] and his one friend who is a girl? She’s one of his friend’s with benefits.<br />
<span style="color: #8000ff;"><strong>Me:</strong></span> What movie? Whe…..WHAT?? Did you just say “friends with benefits”?? <br />
<span style="color: #ff0080;"><strong>The Teen:</strong></span> Yes. Can I go?<br />
<span style="color: #8000ff;"><strong>Me:</strong></span> What is this “friends with benefits”?? The name of the movie?<br />
<span style="color: #ff0080;"><strong>The Teen:</strong></span> Um….No?<br />
<span style="color: #8000ff;"><strong>Me:</strong></span> <br />
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QuwAqQQ-CwU/TsbJFTpMEjI/AAAAAAAACng/I3gRivrxf24/s1600-h/omg4.jpg"><img alt="omg" border="0" height="187" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-udsDqV5Kneo/TsbJFn5pMqI/AAAAAAAACno/1BIEWX5qxwc/omg_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="omg" width="240" /></a><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0080;"><strong>The Teen: </strong></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GwXcEc4O5ws/TsbJGPPOLDI/AAAAAAAACnw/_YsBFXztnoo/s1600-h/hiding%252520face%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="hiding face" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zWzGCEsegjs/TsbJGX2j0UI/AAAAAAAACn4/KrVSzH616TI/hiding%252520face_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="hiding face" width="238" /></a> <br />
<br />
Seriously.<br />
I’m trying to figure out if <span style="color: #8000ff;"><strong><em>“friends with benefits”</em></strong></span> has some other meaning when you are talking to a 14 year old. Does it mean “a friend that pays your way to the movie”? Does it mean “a friend that will let you cheat on the test”?<br />
I consulted a friend about this situation and she thought maybe it was “a friend that was gonna help them get free popcorn at the movie.”<br />
I was afraid, yet I consulted the spouse. Oh gawd, I know right??!! <br />
His response?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QkTbeIftFcg/TsbJGo8CWVI/AAAAAAAACoA/ksRAxSQSR8k/s1600-h/images114.jpg"><img alt="images (11)" border="0" height="192" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-anh-wNOlJBs/TsbJG3fhgLI/AAAAAAAACoI/bmJ-H4RRHwo/images11_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="images (11)" width="240" /></a><br />
<br />
Oh yeah, I’m thinking he KNOWS there is no other meaning to <span style="color: red;"><strong>FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS</strong></span> other than the one we know as adults.<br />
So I researched it. <br />
According to <a href="http://aids.about.com/bio/Mark-Cichocki-R-N-4377.htm">Mark Cichocki, R.N.</a>, a nurse educator, this is what he found out after talking to a few teenagers: <br />
<em>“While talking to a group of teenagers recently, I heard a term that was completely new to me. Many of the teens talked about <strong>"friends with benefits".</strong> Being a naive father of three teenage daughters I had to ask what that meant exactly. I was shocked to find out that many teenagers from 14 to 18 years of age were developing a new type of sex only relationship. It was explained to me that boys and girls were "hooking up" for sex, both intercourse and oral, but did not consider themselves to be dating or in a intimate monogamous relationship. They considered one another to be <strong>"friends with benefits</strong>". The more questions I asked the more concerned I became.”</em><br />
<em></em><br />
Excuse me while I puke now.<br />
Seriously. I just don’t know if I am going to survive these teenage years. How can I keep my baby safe? How can I keep her from making the bad decisions??<br />
Is she THAT naive that she didn’t realize what [insert her <span style="color: green;"><strong><em>EX - boyfriend’s</em></strong></span> name here] was referring to when he said that?? Did she think <span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Goudy Old Style'; font-size: small;"><strong><em>“Friends with Benefits”</em></strong></span> was the new TEEN CLUB?? <br />
Holy effing schnazzballs! Can you imagine??<br />
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How do you keep your teenage daughters AWARE without putting ideas into their heads, yet giving them the knowledge to know right from wrong? How do you keep them SAFE??Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-42437845629671655582011-09-29T18:53:00.001-07:002011-09-29T18:53:21.738-07:00Chocolate Talks<p>Ok, once again I have been MIA for a bit.  You see, I sort of took a job that is not in my best interest, and I’ve been very quiet about it because I am sort of embarrassed at even saying I’m employed there.  BUT….guess what??  Happy Blog Fodder Day!!  </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="6"><strong><em>I QUIT!!</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="6"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="6"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-y7E7Bx3mKcw/ToUg5jrVq5I/AAAAAAAACkk/BajD3NvF8pc/s1600-h/dancing_figure3.gif"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="dancing_figure" border="0" alt="dancing_figure" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-IQx8hMvPTXg/ToUg6jPPLUI/AAAAAAAACko/W4-tC50_7_8/dancing_figure_thumb1.gif?imgmax=800" width="200" height="230" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="6"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="6"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="left">I sat down to write my resignation.  I should be a pro at this by now, but unfortunately, I am not.  It’s always difficult for me to say what is appropriate.  </p> <p align="left">I carefully got situated in front of my computer and began to type….</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-r3oJWxeHA2Y/ToUg7Jxqy1I/AAAAAAAACks/3RdFnQiZ7B8/s1600-h/fake%252520resignation3%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="fake resignation3" border="0" alt="fake resignation3" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0Bf9-kvJL7A/ToUg7nLfgbI/AAAAAAAACkw/_kU-Qq55fVw/fake%252520resignation3_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="356" height="268" /></a></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">Somehow this didn’t sound right so I asked the spouse if it seemed a bit harsh.  He thought “yes, definitely yes”.  </p> <p align="left">I tried again…..</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--itpRJJ73nU/ToUg8ADB8XI/AAAAAAAACk0/-o6j1fC8sm8/s1600-h/fake%252520resignation4%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="fake resignation4" border="0" alt="fake resignation4" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wC3kB-QLvXE/ToUg8oXY6PI/AAAAAAAACk4/v33sl78XHuM/fake%252520resignation4_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="362" height="274" /></a></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">Ugh…still doesn’t quite FEEL right.  </p> <p align="left">With a bit of <strike>badass bitchiness</strike> a heavy heart I tried again……</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5-tJdRTEXx2vZwTjWW-sUyO8J1t94PQ5xpm5RoeflPMAxGr0rGlCgEvP5SfuF1MnXvOz-nzN_Zq0JsQPHcUJwl7VzkERWoIls9WYodHOY9Ze9AFRg0LRfJiIT2veH524ruwZmvllGANg/s1600-h/fake%252520resignation%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="fake resignation" border="0" alt="fake resignation" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-aHXebR8wQE8/ToUg9gT6F8I/AAAAAAAAClA/evg3MtQ35II/fake%252520resignation_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="371" height="280" /></a></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">I asked another source if this would be sufficient.  The response was….</p> <p align="left"> </p> <blockquote> <p align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>”Tell ‘em how you REALLY feel!!”</em></strong></font></p> </blockquote> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">Bwaaaahahahahaha!!  I thought I did just that!!</p> <p align="left">One last try….I know I can get it right this time.</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-JMoHsxym02c/ToUg-L16MfI/AAAAAAAAClE/uqyj-C57Usk/s1600-h/fake%252520resignation2%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="fake resignation2" border="0" alt="fake resignation2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOciF5FZwqYkTSmrvW28Kdr4aZpHvNkQ5GI29fiKNdt0QTHnsUG76D5L7mSXlycGRLQDN4PgIvkcWtZgMcpNwgmvrg8dOLeRu5-aCEVaoN5kzZ_jzwaRE3boLzSsc0B3PKe8oPHYz9xeK/?imgmax=800" width="354" height="268" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>OMG, I should make a side business out of writing resignations for people.  This is way too much fun!</p> <p>I came to my senses and wrote a generic I’m-leaving-you-as-soon-as-possible resignation and I stomped into the facility….</p> <p>……after business hours when I knew the boss would have been long gone…..</p> <p>…..in disguise……</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-MT1csEQEheU/ToUg--vreeI/AAAAAAAAClM/f9-ueP2KMKw/s1600-h/nursey%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="nursey" border="0" alt="nursey" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vkW9PWk9ulI/ToUg_Bgv4GI/AAAAAAAAClQ/tCPHlmEfXbU/nursey_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="352" height="265" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>….and QUICKLY slid my letter under the boss’s door, held my head up high because I was proud, did not turn back, did not concern myself with the fact that someone may have seen me….and……</p> <p>….RAN LIKE HELL because I’m a muther-truckin WUSS!!</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-yAA8UxtqnTA/ToUg_U6SXyI/AAAAAAAAClU/ppV4amuV7Mw/s1600-h/running%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="running" border="0" alt="running" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLCvAd8xJw80XO6-gT0lrrjInNn714DvKE5Eidt9-p2oN8APnFSoXi-EMSWVcx7DlcAIvrBrDaXHx6vhLK9Ota6x7GYWUMfm8t_TZjaL93Gcw-xKy8KpIGapJcf_fAbM5WCvrtmpN6gOo/?imgmax=800" width="281" height="281" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Next time I’m going to take my Uncle’s advice and hand in my resignation the way he suggested.  After all, he’s “seasoned”, wise, and really has <font color="#0000ff" size="3"><strong><em>AN AWESOME SENSE OF HUMOR!!!</em></strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8JBF96wzCMs/ToUhAOk9K1I/AAAAAAAAClc/32LbvwJ7ops/s1600-h/chocolate2%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="chocolate2" border="0" alt="chocolate2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qamzZcJ36eI/ToUhAhxhTSI/AAAAAAAAClg/PO6M69m7A18/chocolate2_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="328" height="235" /></a>  </p> <p align="center">Nothing says it better than a box of chocolates!!  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zU2W5P1zncU/ToUhA6Mw00I/AAAAAAAAClk/WvwBThRvO9o/s1600-h/women25%25255B4%25255D.gif"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="women25" border="0" alt="women25" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vqDN37mxRvQ/ToUhBGUaojI/AAAAAAAAClo/zMXCcNa3QUo/women25_thumb%25255B2%25255D.gif?imgmax=800" width="146" height="277" /></a></p> <p align="center">Sayonara!!    May you rest in peace……</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#800080" size="4"><strong><em></em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#800080" size="4"><strong><em>Hasta la vista baby!!!</em></strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-F3DAgsj7dGk/ToUhBWHlA0I/AAAAAAAACls/u74K1p1yoRg/s1600-h/images%252520%2525288%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (8)" border="0" alt="images (8)" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-g04UUpdpufk/ToUhB9azzDI/AAAAAAAAClw/d-ZKwbxBwGM/images%252520%2525288%252529_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="189" height="240" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p></p> <h5 align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="5"></font></h5> <h5 align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="5">再見/再见</font></h5> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YRIr3pAS9lw/ToUhCByaq7I/AAAAAAAACl0/uuhYNyYciYM/s1600-h/kai%252520lan%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="kai lan" border="0" alt="kai lan" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Rn7PGyXnXQ4/ToUhC0vTngI/AAAAAAAACl4/MoSzgaZKsxI/kai%252520lan_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="216" height="216" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GaB3idSK1Eg/ToUhDISg68I/AAAAAAAACl8/gE9y63ppZuI/s1600-h/images%252520%2525289%252529%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (9)" border="0" alt="images (9)" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6NTRsofgm7c/ToUhDs0rutI/AAAAAAAACmA/cmEJDlCjHTQ/images%252520%2525289%252529_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="187" height="253" /></a></p> <p align="center">Ohhh Hello Kitty…..you are so silly.</p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="3"><strong>Too bad it’s not Valentine’s Day!!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-OPmOwuJvDpc/ToUhDovKkAI/AAAAAAAACmE/ilitt6PzmGs/s1600-h/images%252520%25252810%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="images (10)" border="0" alt="images (10)" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Uc686eb2Bf8/ToUhECkgHkI/AAAAAAAACmI/BBRwOyOGw-Y/images%252520%25252810%252529_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="204" height="299" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">I know, I know….cool, eh??</p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-61906608787812002552011-08-19T13:12:00.001-07:002011-08-19T13:12:45.651-07:00What Makes Me Happy?<p>I’ve been thinking lately and trying to focus on only what makes me happy.  I’m tired of bitching at the spouse about not taking out the trash.  I’m tired of nearly chaining my teen to her room to get her to clean it.  I’m tired of threatening the two short people that live here, aka the 3 and 4 year old, that I’m about to get out my trash bag so they better start picking up the toys that they don’t want out on the curb come Sunday night.  I’m tired of the insane drivers out there that can’t seem to wait their turn.  Blow your horn at me one more fucking time and it’s WAR, baby, W. A. R. </p> <p>I’m tired of ignorant, nasty, rude people.  Don’t pretend you don’t know who you are.  Seriously.  Asshats.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WRKyCxAyTWs/Tk7Dsl5yfdI/AAAAAAAACjs/J-VvOCjwcKg/s1600-h/rude2%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="rude2" border="0" alt="rude2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-n7hNLyOAoVE/Tk7DsyCImhI/AAAAAAAACjw/LtJdwxVo9LE/rude2_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" height="224" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="5"><strong>AND I DON’T LIKE THEM.</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p>So….what DOES make me happy?  </p> <p>I’ve made a list.</p> <ul> <li>The short people that live here falling asleep before 8pm. </li> <li>The teen actually doing what is asked of her. </li> <li>The trash taken out before I have to roll my eyes and groan that not even the piece of lint I picked up off the floor will fit in. </li> <li>A new bag in the trash can on the rare occasion I’m not the one that has taken it out.  (Doesn’t it suck when you throw something away and realize there is no fucking bag AFTER the trash has left your hand???) </li> <li>Caribou Coffee….specifically a White Chocolate Mocha No Whip please.  These are da bomb!!  If could marry one, I would. </li> </ul> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-30GL8nduo2Y/Tk7DtDMa4YI/AAAAAAAACj0/5bBEAsVNmH8/s1600-h/images%252520%2525286%252529%25255B11%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="images (6)" border="0" alt="images (6)" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hRtVsR9RS3w/Tk7DtkhbuwI/AAAAAAAACj4/ZlzYlrz1UDQ/images%252520%2525286%252529_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="295" height="211" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <ul> <li>A cashier that says, “Hi.”  That’s all.  Just “Hi.”  will do        it.  I’m not asking for the damn world here on a silver platter.  Just have a freakin clue! </li> </ul> <p> </p> <p>Moving right along….. </p> <p> </p> <ul> <li>A good hair day. </li> <li>My kids.  Yes, they make me happy.  I swear they do.  Oh, okay….so I want to beat them several times a day, but after each beating…yep…I am happy with them. </li> <li>My spouse, when he vacuums without me nagging, and he rubs my feet after each 12 hour shift that I work, and he offers to give me a massage without any sex-pectations.   Oh, and he makes me extremely happy when he does all the laundry and cleans the entire house just because I am working night shift 12 hours on a Saturday and a Sunday.   What?  Ok, you are right…he doesn’t do any of these things.  But it sure would make me happy if he did. </li> <li>Quiet.  Peace. And. Quiet.  Simply stated?  Shut the fuck up! </li> </ul> <p> </p> <ul> <li>My dog. </li> </ul> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rQ68zQOJLho/Tk7DuYOZp_I/AAAAAAAACj8/uH1IfM3p-qE/s1600-h/Nikon%252520231%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Nikon 231" border="0" alt="Nikon 231" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4yEXwW593Cs/Tk7DumBcLzI/AAAAAAAACkA/ncC3mFaf1kM/Nikon%252520231_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="325" height="246" /></a>   </p> <ul> <li>My patients at work.  Except for the select few assholes that have me walking up and down the hall just to see if they took a shit or not…most of them make me happy. </li> <li>My days off. </li> <li>A kitchen big enough to have a table in it.  Yep…my kitchen sucks <font color="#8000ff" size="3"><strong><em>holy fucking monkey balls</em></strong></font> and I’m not afraid to admit it.  </li> <li>The fact that I used to be “Royalty”.  It is true…you can check out the facts <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2010/03/ive-been-crowned-again.html"><font size="3"><strong><em>HERE</em></strong></font></a><font size="3"><strong><em>.</em></strong></font>  </li> <li>My blog…and all the other blogs I read….they make me happy.  I can chill out, drink my White Mocha, <strike>forget I have children</strike> and read some really good stuff.  What pisses me the fuck off is that I don’t have enough time to do this.  What the hell, Life?  Can’t I just be a mindless, no-responsibility slacker and still make enough cash to pay the bills?  </li> </ul> <p> </p> <p>So….these are just a few of the things that make me happy.  What are YOUR happy things?  Your favorite things?  Leave a comment…I’d love to know!  Maybe I can steal one or two….</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px auto; padding-left: 0px; width: 425px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:4403385b-e548-4da3-b46b-d1396b420e96" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="923007d2-43d2-42b0-843a-497a4bff27d0" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eB4XSsLEDnQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-taCGQqY2keY/Tk7DvKufxlI/AAAAAAAACkE/Vrh-d7UIF7g/videobd52b7c35d03%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('923007d2-43d2-42b0-843a-497a4bff27d0'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/eB4XSsLEDnQ&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/eB4XSsLEDnQ&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-64760120878747611502011-07-28T18:42:00.001-07:002011-07-28T18:42:54.105-07:00Raising Animals<p>For those of you that have read my blog before, you know that I am a working mom with 3 kids, ages 3, 4, and 14, and a spouse that is still in training.  I’ve posted before about my children’s antics, and how they never cease to amaze me.  From my <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2010/12/leftovers-anyone.html"><strong><em><font color="#8000ff">chaotic mornings</font></em></strong></a> to the day <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2010/11/missing-manny.html"><font color="#800040"><strong><em>I thought I lost Little Man</em></strong></font></a> to me having my <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2010/09/biggest-tantrum-evahhhh.html"><font color="#ff0000"><strong><em>Biggest Mommy Tantrum Ev-ahhh</em></strong></font></a>  ….. I’ve had my share of reasons as to why I feel this “parenting” business is not about raising children, but it’s about RAISING ANIMALS.</p> <p>Yesterday this was confirmed.</p> <p>Thank you, Little Man.</p> <p>You see….before Little Man, I only knew the workings of little girls.  Little girls are easy.  Little girls don’t climb.  Little girls don’t jump off the highest surface they can get up onto.  Little girls are <em>decent</em>.</p> <p>Little girls would never think to pee outside…..</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0nXzKw-Lp40/TjIQEIdoMiI/AAAAAAAACjE/4e-LlkWf7dk/s1600-h/Manny5.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Manny" border="0" alt="Manny" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yhtXsgusNe8/TjIQEkNfxjI/AAAAAAAACjI/3DFT2MZWKYA/Manny_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" height="261" /></a> </p> <p>Not that my girls are angels or anything of the sort.  They can fight like cats.  And when I say CATS, I don’t mean cute little furry kittens, oh hell to the no!  I mean CATS!  The big furry ones with pointy teeth and sharp claws.  Animals…..</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-chp1XBAtI8o/TjIQE8qhgYI/AAAAAAAACjM/715r52aYucs/s1600-h/tiger5.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="tiger" border="0" alt="tiger" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dXZjyOYWR8M/TjIQFHI8GMI/AAAAAAAACjQ/R7EJ9lRpi50/tiger_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="192" height="285" /></a> </p> <p>But yesterday…..OMFG…..this is a true story.  </p> <p>The spouse was in the bathroom upstairs.  I ran downstairs to flip a load of clothes.  I faintly hear the spouse tell Little Man, “Hang on…I’m coming out.”  Now, Little Man is a bit over 3 years old and ever since our talk about the “poop police coming”, <strike>and also since I made him walk around without any pants or Pull-Ups until he took a shit on the potty, </strike>he has been pooping in the potty.  Like clockwork.  God forbid we are anywhere but near a potty at 5pm.  </p> <p>So, when the spouse didn’t open the bathroom door right away when Manny jiggled the knob saying he had to poop, Little Man took matters into his own hands.</p> <p>I came upstairs to the spouse asking where Manny was.  I said I didn’t know, I had been in the laundry room.  He relayed that Manny said he had to poop and maybe he went downstairs to use that bathroom.  I thought, oh shoot….and I turned off all the lights not knowing he was down there!</p> <p>So I go downstairs.</p> <p>No Manny.</p> <p>No Manny in any of the rooms upstairs either.  We ask Little Lady where he went.  Little Lady, being 4 going on 24, says he went outside.  </p> <p>WTF??  Alone??</p> <p>Again??</p> <p>We go outside to find Little Man standing where the dog usually does her business, his pants around his ankles, just looking at us.</p> <p>And we look at this….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GLSwcYl2TCo/TjIQFdnWTII/AAAAAAAACjU/ZJzZZYMrQ5w/s1600-h/images%252520%2525284%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (4)" border="0" alt="images (4)" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-99oFfk0UXuY/TjIQFyKt2pI/AAAAAAAACjY/DxOjvmjbp7w/images%252520%2525284%252529_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a> </p> <p>The interrogation from the Dad begins…..</p> <p>“Manny.  Is this YOUR POOP???”</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FLcrZO6colE/TjIQGD2TxJI/AAAAAAAACjc/vxlzQc31ZmI/s1600-h/images%252520%2525285%252529%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="images (5)" border="0" alt="images (5)" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-UNWznNT6-bU/TjIQGaGAdnI/AAAAAAAACjg/ye40GidXAJo/images%252520%2525285%252529_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="205" height="172" /></a> </p> <p>Well….it certainly looked like his poop.  And he WAS standing there with his pants around his ankles.  And he WAS a wee bit embarrassed to look us in the eye…..</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MY09v8LXtKs/TjIQG6sxQpI/AAAAAAAACjk/APZlXzNX8I0/s1600-h/little%252520man%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="little man" border="0" alt="little man" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lhGZQH2s-8w/TjIQHbteuQI/AAAAAAAACjo/1YmFgiSjOWA/little%252520man_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="300" height="226" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>And here I was, worried about the <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-did-you-say.html"><em><strong>Little Man spewing F-Bombs</strong></em></a> in public rendering me totally humiliated.  I swear, if he ever feels the need to take a crap outside in public, I will personally check myself in at the nearest psychiatric facility.</p> <p>What have YOUR little animals done to make you re-think this parenting business?  </p> <p>Oh, and if you want to know more about my Little Man-imal….you can read it <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-little-man.html"><strong><em>here.</em></strong></a>  Just don’t say I haven’t warned you.</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="6" face="Glowworm MN">Happy Thursday!!</font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-36150599301651174652011-07-21T13:29:00.001-07:002011-07-21T13:29:54.951-07:00All By My Self<p>There is some part of the English language that I wish I could just do away with.  Oh, <font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>for Pete’s sake</em></strong></font>, I’m not talking about my potty mouth, I could NEVER do away with THAT!  I’m talking about things that I have to keep repeating….<font color="#800080" size="3"><strong><em>Day. After. Day. After. Day.</em></strong></font></p> <p><font color="#400080" size="3"><strong><em>Like….</em></strong></font></p> <p>Do you have to pee??</p> <p>Are you stinky?</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3t22lULaaEo/TiiMJlpQmKI/AAAAAAAACiM/1Cwq96xbwDY/s1600-h/IMG00670-20110702-1149%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG00670-20110702-1149" border="0" alt="IMG00670-20110702-1149" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kiryeRABV2M/TiiMKNJsoaI/AAAAAAAACiQ/gVlcD9JWfzA/IMG00670-20110702-1149_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="306" height="231" /></a> “Who??  Me??  Not stinky….”</p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="left"><font color="#800040" size="3"><strong><em>And also I’d like to stop having to say….</em></strong></font></p> <p>NO!!</p> <p>STOP!!</p> <p>Keep your hands to yourself!</p> <p>Who used my brush??  Where is it??</p> <p>We do NOT eat in the living room!</p> <p><font color="#ff0000"><strong>Where’s Manny?</strong></font>  (He’s forever disappearing)</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Nmry1VO27CE/TiiMKi4nj9I/AAAAAAAACiU/wFc682Qf8iw/s1600-h/manny%252520on%252520tireswing%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="manny on tireswing" border="0" alt="manny on tireswing" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-oihlkJDLO_k/TiiMLAfeLiI/AAAAAAAACiY/CW6uht-F4oY/manny%252520on%252520tireswing_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="307" height="233" /></a> “Here I am!”</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p> </p> <p><font color="#0000ff" size="3"><strong><em>There are also some things that I wish my children would stop saying…</em></strong></font></p> <p>Look at me!</p> <p>Watch this!</p> <p>Mom!  Mom!  Mom!!</p> <p>He touched me!!</p> <p>I can’t see the TV!!</p> <p>He’s not sharing!!</p> <p><font color="#ff0000"><strong>Where’s Manny?</strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-X3o2DMnu4ZA/TiiML4-K0cI/AAAAAAAACic/StxVQ-S9OCk/s1600-h/naked%252520manny%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="naked manny" border="0" alt="naked manny" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ebPgYQoQX20/TiiMMCd96rI/AAAAAAAACig/wewvKipVRBc/naked%252520manny_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="331" height="251" /></a> “Just going to work, Mom.”</p> <p> </p> <p><font color="#800080" size="3"><strong><em>Some things that I hope to NEVER stop hearing…</em></strong></font></p> <p>I love you, Mom!</p> <p>I did it!  Alllll byyyy My. Self!</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KRQD657ThDY/TiiMMlMPpuI/AAAAAAAACik/dscZclyGGs8/s1600-h/Lilli%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Lilli" border="0" alt="Lilli" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-r3QJ9fs3l5U/TiiMNIfcLVI/AAAAAAAACio/Rq4hnLZfm6U/Lilli_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="312" height="237" /></a> At least her shoes match….this time.</p> <p align="center"> </p> <p><font color="#ff0080" size="3"><strong><em>And I would die if they stopped saying….</em></strong></font></p> <p>You’re the best!</p> <p>Will you sit with me, Mom?</p> <p>I found him!!</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-AOyPRwazwTY/TiiMNtlauPI/AAAAAAAACis/-5PN3pa29b8/s1600-h/exhausted%252520manny%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="exhausted manny" border="0" alt="exhausted manny" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-n0MdJrf8LyY/TiiMN6HwDZI/AAAAAAAACiw/U-cAt8Yam1Y/exhausted%252520manny_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="319" height="242" /></a> Totally exhausted.</p> <p align="center"> </p> <p> </p> <p> <font color="#008040" size="3"><strong><em>Some things other people say that make me cringe just a wee bit…</em></strong></font></p> <p>Can I help?  (The help of a three year old does not always end well)</p> <p>He was here a minute ago…..</p> <p>I thought you were watching him.  (Oh dear Spouse…..what am I going to do with you???)</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nlTMh3Trvss/TiiMOU-XyzI/AAAAAAAACi0/RIwsOMj5h_Q/s1600-h/Manny%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Manny" border="0" alt="Manny" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_2ztRiKHLDE/TiiMO2dt8KI/AAAAAAAACi4/DkEYj5xmoBg/Manny_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="339" height="257" /></a> I did it!  Allll byyyy myyyy self!  </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="left">Now….I wonder WHO on earth taught my Little Man that it’s ok to take a piss off the back of the deck??</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KE1RpQ_SrWs/TiiMPbwjAPI/AAAAAAAACi8/4KeWTAidU80/s1600-h/IMG00604-20110604-1121%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG00604-20110604-1121" border="0" alt="IMG00604-20110604-1121" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2o3QYRAtQhU/TiiMPzOoTjI/AAAAAAAACjA/QVoTCI312Ic/IMG00604-20110604-1121_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="332" height="252" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#008080" size="4"><strong>Like father.  Like Son.</strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="6" face="GilliesGotDLig"><strong><em>Happy Thursday!!</em></strong></font></p> <p><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="3"> </font></em></strong></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-35027946814512100512011-07-11T13:02:00.001-07:002011-07-11T13:02:12.747-07:00A Sign<p>Signs….seriously, they are everywhere.  Sometimes I understand them….sometimes I just stop and ponder….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SZHQkEgX5RA/ThtWinApjWI/AAAAAAAAChY/sT8jXbjBoNM/s1600-h/images%252520%2525282%252529%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (2)" border="0" alt="images (2)" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-U8PzA2JSwX4/ThtWjHStfTI/AAAAAAAAChc/XfVF-jCt2cQ/images%252520%2525282%252529_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="294" height="223" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Seriously…is this not redundant??  </p> <p>The kind of “sign” I’m talking about is a “sign” we give with our hands.  Like a wave “hello”, a thumbs up when something is done right, a “talk to the hand” kinda sign when a co-worker is a bitch-bitching away…..</p> <p>Sometimes we see people and they give us a sign and we smile…</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-eruPbMn9dz4/ThtWjjO36II/AAAAAAAAChg/I4Obijzp_Y4/s1600-h/images%252520%2525283%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (3)" border="0" alt="images (3)" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3627avT3rw4/ThtWj0NZUvI/AAAAAAAAChk/ma4rnvBFkjs/images%252520%2525283%252529_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><font color="#ff0000" size="6" face="GilliesGotDLig"><strong><em> I love you.</em></strong></font></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">Sometimes we get a sign and we would like to pummel the other person with a sledgehammer….</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-wXsDEIMoFLk/ThtWnKbFTgI/AAAAAAAACho/1zeSAx11tYU/s1600-h/loser%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="loser" border="0" alt="loser" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KX-DHhSM2VU/ThtWnqJZ9lI/AAAAAAAAChs/ukjJeAi8pIg/loser_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="155" height="167" /></a><font color="#800000" size="5" face="GaramondItalic"><strong><em> Loser.</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="left">A few weeks ago we had some people over and my sister and I were having a conversation with her daughter-in-law.  It was a little noisy with other people talking, it was late in the evening, and we may or may not have had a bit too much wine, but we laughed hysterically at our wit when we recognized a “gesture” as a “sign in the making”!  You see, her daughter-in-law was describing a website window with 2 screens, one on top of the other…..</p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PZVgGoHl-xE/ThtWoC-cxzI/AAAAAAAAChw/988QDCQpsTA/s1600-h/privatechat2%25255B4%25255D.gif"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="privatechat2" border="0" alt="privatechat2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ww8sAfMRrsc/ThtWog20LGI/AAAAAAAACh0/L0OQz-4iKIM/privatechat2_thumb%25255B2%25255D.gif?imgmax=800" width="227" height="240" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p>Well, this is what I pictured anyways with they way her hands were demonstrating the screen like so….</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nk6cOuAx2oo/ThtWpgzMSNI/AAAAAAAACh4/BHrZsGzqyH4/s1600-h/brianna%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="brianna" border="0" alt="brianna" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ct7FJJjsqCc/ThtWqI3jofI/AAAAAAAACh8/Y8oJDEjbk7w/brianna_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="179" /></a><strong> “There’s one window on top of the other…..”</strong></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="left">But then….you see, my sister got all lost in the conversation, again, maybe having something to do with the wine consumption, and she said, <font color="#0000ff" size="3"><em><strong>“What the hell was that with your hands??”</strong></em></font>  ….and she made the gesture.</p> <p align="left">It was explained once again, and then my sister stated, <font color="#0000ff" size="3"><strong><em>“Oh, I thought that was some kind of sign you were making at me….”</em></strong></font></p> <p align="left">So then….we looked at each other, and because we think so much alike, we both made the sign at each other and said, <font color="#008000" size="3"><strong><em>“Grrrrr, fuck you!”</em></strong></font></p> <p align="left">(Cuz that’s how we roll)</p> <p align="left">I know, I know….you may not be getting this whole <strong>“sign”</strong> thing here, and if not, it’s okay because my spouse was not really laughing too much either.   I figured he just didn’t get it.  (Sometimes that happens….)  Or maybe the alcohol had gotten to him too.  Regardless, we are so gonna use this sign and start a trend.  In fact….my spouse, who I thought was clueless when we had this conversation, was the first person to use the sign other than my sister and I.</p> <p align="left">My teen’s facebook got hacked.  After the spouse posted something about all hackers getting crucified or something by the Sicilian side of my daughter’s family, he looked at me and said THIS:</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TDHRNsbz4Jw/ThtWq4JqQJI/AAAAAAAACiA/tZO2mQhx0QA/s1600-h/pete%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="pete" border="0" alt="pete" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bVvrx_DsbpE/ThtWwFxs5-I/AAAAAAAACiE/hWEwSypU1Xg/pete_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="314" height="237" /></a><font color="#400080" size="3"><strong><em> “Hackers beware!”</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="left">So, yeah….and then some!!</p> <p align="left">He WAS paying attention to the conversation.</p> <p align="left">Just when you think you’ve got ‘em figured out.</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><font color="#ff00ff" size="4" face="GoudyOlSt BT"><strong><em>Happy Monday!!</em></strong></font></p> <p align="left"> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px auto; padding-left: 0px; width: 373px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:5cf30699-0977-4eac-82cc-7fbbd199d46f" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="d7e66c95-7343-41fd-bde7-c32ef5e17978" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D59ZWa8ehgI&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lCUva5-8EwU/ThtWw0yHWhI/AAAAAAAACiI/sYunWofZsJs/videoc8e4b15614ba%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('d7e66c95-7343-41fd-bde7-c32ef5e17978'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"373\" height=\"279\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/D59ZWa8ehgI&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/D59ZWa8ehgI&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"373\" height=\"279\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-2165612419528838842011-06-26T19:11:00.001-07:002011-06-26T19:11:43.145-07:00Change<p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jkyzdKV2Q3s/Tgfmx1PTDOI/AAAAAAAACgw/v7IPJ6PuNFs/s1600-h/images2%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images2" border="0" alt="images2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_9tLu8vX-m4/TgfmyR6JKZI/AAAAAAAACg0/k2GNIssW-Kg/images2_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="190" /></a>  </p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">Mr. Sake here. My turn again……</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">I HATE CHANGE!!!  I’m not talking about the jingly coins floating around in my front pocket here, I’m talking about new circumstances – as in The-Times-Are- A- Changin’ kind of change. There are very few times I have been thrilled with change. The day my Lady and I became Mister and Misses - that was awesome! The days each of our younger ones were born – exceptional.  The day I got my new shiny yard tractor – ON TOP OF THE WORLD!!!!!</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_KT7GBtZ_Ms/TgfmzVkR1tI/AAAAAAAACg4/E2ixY0YnxUA/s1600-h/tractor%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="tractor" border="0" alt="tractor" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-z0oJWZTT1hg/Tgfm0CtWLwI/AAAAAAAACg8/FTuxQKoP094/tractor_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="300" height="223" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone">(Insert eye-roll from Mrs. Sake)</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">The change that bugs me involves my being a creature of habit. I like stuff to stay just the way it is, the way that I am used to. I want to be able to traverse my life with my eyes closed, knowing exactly what’s coming next. The reality is that with my eyes closed I have gotten a few (several ….. hundred) deep bruises. <font size="2"><font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone">(I tell him to WATCH OUT on a daily basis, but…..)</font></font></font></p> <p><font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone"></font></p> <p><font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone"></font></p> <p><font color="#800080" size="1" face="Cornerstone"></font></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HQSmw0g3eoE/Tgfm0jpur-I/AAAAAAAAChA/30_nVxEAKVY/s1600-h/full_body_cast11%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="full_body_cast11" border="0" alt="full_body_cast11" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4ZqWODd9sG0/Tgfm1KA9azI/AAAAAAAAChE/GKnWERJnO9I/full_body_cast11_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="183" /></a> </p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  I love my old cell phone. So I took the big step and got a new one – same brand, newer “better” model. AHEM. Hack-hack. Excuse me, had to clear my throat. <font size="2"><font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone">(He’s been whining all day about not being able to figure it out.  Shhhhhh….I promised not to tell.)</font></font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  My hair is not turning grey – IT’S TURNING FLIPPIN’ LOOSE!!!! Enuf said.  <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(Silence from Mrs. Sake…)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  WE’RE OUT OF COFFEE!!!!!!!   <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(NEXT TIME PUT IT ON THE LIST!!!!)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  The kids are growing. They are becoming less/more dependent on me. No more diapers (good change). Cleaning the bathroom every two hours due to poor aim – yep – bad change.  <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(Now if we can teach Mr. Sake how to aim we’ll be in business!)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  The Tween becomes a teen – bad bad bad bad bad! Makeup, hair, BOYFRIEND! Not in this house, girly! (Mrs. Sake nixed my idea right away)  <font color="#800080" size="6" face="Cornerstone"><strong>:)</strong></font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  WHO MOVED MY HAT???!!!!!   <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(It’s on your head…just saying….)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  New office assistant at work – the owner’s sister - bad change. I’ve been here 14 years lady. You are an ASS-istant. I am upper-level management. GET OUTTA MY FACE!</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  Kids go from tricycles to bicycles …….. Where’s the first-aid kit?</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  Wife gets new job (#2 in six months) - with new hours…….. Where’s <em>MY </em>first-aid kit?</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP MY JACKET IN THE CLOSET???!!!!!!   <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(I say he’s lucky to HAVE a closet….)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  WallyWorld remodels into a super-store. I can’t even find the damn light bulbs!!!  </font></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-llUgiQRk4_0/Tgfm1pND_7I/AAAAAAAAChI/YlVGd5iMVU0/s1600-h/images%2525203%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images 3" border="0" alt="images 3" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Y_7ABcaPULU/Tgfm2NEraNI/AAAAAAAAChM/_xDDEf6KaZI/images%2525203_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="291" height="181" /></a>  <font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone">(Mr. Manly-Man…..too stubborn to ASK?)</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  DAWN DISH SOAP IS THE BEST – WAYYYYYY BETTER THAN THIS CRAP!!!!!</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  The Teen wants to try new stuff, every fad, experience more – but doesn’t want to try washing the dishes. Maybe it’s the soap.</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  The four year old becomes part of the house administration. She’s got a quicker wit than me.  <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(Did I tell you the one where Mr. Sake had to go for an MRI due to “mental status <em>changes</em>”???  Teeheehee!!!)  </font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  My knees are killing me. What do you mean arthritis? You got your medical degree where? Cracker Jack?</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT YOUNG ANY MORE???!!!!!  <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(MRI #2?)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  The recliner is mine.  Get your teenage ass off it and find somewhere else to speed-text.</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  Who used my last razor?  WTF?  How the hell am I supposed to maintain my dignity after shaving with a <font color="#ff00ff">PINK</font> one?? <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(I say, “Suck it Up, Fuzzy Face!”)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><strong>CHANGE.</strong>  WE’RE OUT OF COFFEE!!!  <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(Oh dear Lord…wasn’t this already mentioned?  Put it on the fucking list already!)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">…..and yes, pocket change is bad too.  Pocket change means we’re spending money we really shouldn’t.  More potential debt.  Bad change.  <font color="#800080" size="2" face="Cornerstone">(Retail Therapy)</font></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">And by the way…don’t you think for one second that I didn’t notice the <em><strong>CHANGES</strong></em> that Mrs. Sake made to this post.  How could I not?  They are <font color="#800080">purple</font>!  Geesh!  What do you think I am?  An idiot???</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">~ Mr. Sake</font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lqC_OQxU5W8/Tgfm26lNjOI/AAAAAAAAChQ/qWMSGoFuMaE/s1600-h/list%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="list" border="0" alt="list" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ehmJuzJKayw/Tgfm3fIcxnI/AAAAAAAAChU/NAv_zpEM_p0/list_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="373" height="284" /></a> </p> <p><font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone">A-hem….does anyone see COFFEE on the list???  I thought not.</font></p> <p><font color="#800080" face="Cornerstone">~ Mrs. Sake </font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-60997015089892722162011-06-24T19:23:00.001-07:002011-06-24T19:23:09.521-07:00What Did You Say???<p>Well, since I don’t have a wholelotta time, I figured I would join in with <font color="#8000ff" size="4" face="Goudy Old Style"><strong><em>Sippy </em></strong></font><a href="http://sippycupsarenotforstarbucks.blogspot.com/"><font color="#8000ff" size="4" face="Goudy Old Style"><strong><em>Cups Are Not for Starbucks</em></strong></font></a>  and give you a taste of MY :  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GytZdcUoA-M/TgVGcwx9hBI/AAAAAAAACgA/btFh1tNLiiw/s1600-h/leftoversbutton%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="leftoversbutton" border="0" alt="leftoversbutton" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_zlLQDAqUAA/TgVGdjHSAGI/AAAAAAAACgE/zloafzEPrgQ/leftoversbutton_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="396" height="155" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Sitting here trying to think while listening to Little Man and Little Lady play Mario Kart on the Wii….it’s rather distracting.  In fact, everything is rather distracting lately.  I blame my current employment situation since I am being pulled in every direction there.  Unfortunately, I have 4 more days there at their beck and call.  I’m hoping to come out of there without any <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2011/06/where-is-my-wife.html"><font color="#400000"><strong><em>BLOOD STAINS.</em></strong></font></a><font color="#400000"><strong><em> </em></strong></font></p> <p>This week I turned 44.  You heard me…..Forty-fucking-FOUR!  Is that a crock of shit or what??   It’s really puzzling for me to even THINK of myself NEAR fortyfuckingfour because I still have a couple of THESE to raise….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nRtu-JBBAuM/TgVGeT6QY2I/AAAAAAAACgI/W4Sj32pNlZI/s1600-h/IMG00647-20110624-2100%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG00647-20110624-2100" border="0" alt="IMG00647-20110624-2100" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-MI3e_mLptlQ/TgVGey0Zx5I/AAAAAAAACgM/krbgIxLHtLc/IMG00647-20110624-2100_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="225" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>That’s Little Man, and he’s three.  I also have a 4 year old and a 13 year old that will be 14 next week!!</p> <p>Ok, go ahead…say it….What the fuck was I thinking???</p> <p>I wasn’t.</p> <p>Add my 44-and-three-quarter-year-old spouse (yes, he’s much older than I) that acts like he’s TWO most of the time and you get one crazyass fourtyfuckingfour year old lady!!</p> <p>I’ve also recently started a low-carb….</p> <p>Wait…let me pause and say the two year old mentioned above is editing my blog while I am typing….No, not Little Man, I would be referring to my spouse…..</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SAaiCvOjLTU/TgVGfe2fEII/AAAAAAAACgQ/wB6SuFF_9hk/s1600-h/ps-duct-tape-mouth-revised%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="ps-duct-tape-mouth-revised" border="0" alt="ps-duct-tape-mouth-revised" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qxFHJLJ6d3Q/TgVGfouvY-I/AAAAAAAACgU/QJudE9XM_ig/ps-duct-tape-mouth-revised_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>As I was saying….I’ve also recently started a low-carb diet.  It’s really not so bad eating pepperoni…..pork rinds….cheese……although it’s a little worrisome since I have my nursing background and I KNOW the sodium and the fat and the sodium….oh, and the SODIUM….did I mention the sodium???  I know it’s not good for me.  BUT…here’s the thing…I’m not swelling up at all like before.  How the fuck does the body work anyways???</p> <p> </p> <p>My Little Man got a bruise on his cheek at the sitter’s this week.  I was pissed.  I asked him what happened and he said one of the other kids squeezed his cheeks and said, “you can’t have any gum!”  It really wasn’t making sense and I was getting even more ticked off so I asked his sister.  Hell, she’s four, she knows everything, right?  She looks at me and says, “Mackenzie squeezed his face like a guppy!!”  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DLKfIU4qhhE/TgVGguQ4NsI/AAAAAAAACgY/S50t9GndQUM/s1600-h/IMG00650-20110624-2130%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMG00650-20110624-2130" border="0" alt="IMG00650-20110624-2130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Lg98L3zt5n0/TgVGhGvqneI/AAAAAAAACgc/WiWzgoFGEm4/IMG00650-20110624-2130_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="310" height="235" /></a> </p> <p>Ouch.  Seriously??</p> <p> </p> <p>What’s up with that?  When I asked the sitter, she had no idea it even happened and that pissed me off even more than my son being made into a guppy.   Who doesn’t notice THIS?</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-E_DUHKMxchc/TgVGh2WL0yI/AAAAAAAACgg/tUJhxCMjjAY/s1600-h/IMG00649-20110624-2129%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG00649-20110624-2129" border="0" alt="IMG00649-20110624-2129" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tshHBX-LQuU/TgVGiCsAsgI/AAAAAAAACgk/HWJI91oCGPg/IMG00649-20110624-2129_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="292" height="221" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Oh Dear Lord….on top of the guppy incident, Little Man has been saying something that sounds similar to “Fuck”…or “Fucky fucky fuck”…..could be “truck”, “trucky trucky truck”??  “Ducky duck”??  Oh please….tell me it isn’t so.    In fact, I think it just came out of his mouth 2 seconds ago.  I did a  180 in my chair and I was ready  for battle….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ReLDRSsPXxI/TgVGip-F1cI/AAAAAAAACgo/gbcC3fJg4ro/s1600-h/images%252520%2525281%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="images (1)" border="0" alt="images (1)" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-M0A_JNDkF9Y/TgVGjP-8FSI/AAAAAAAACgs/_fMXo7dZpG0/images%252520%2525281%252529_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="181" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>And at that very moment…the four year old that knows it all, from squeezing faces like guppies, to when to say “I love you, Mom”…..she says, as if she is only informing us because we don’t always understand what Little Man is saying…yes, she says,</p> <p><font color="#ff00ff" size="3"><em>“I think he said fuck again.”</em></font></p> <p>Straight faced.</p> <p>Just stating a fact.</p> <p>Lilli-OMG-dont-ever-say-that-again-OMG-that-is-a-very-very-VERY bad word!!!  (I think I’m having palpitations)</p> <p><font color="#ff00ff" size="3"><strong><em>“I love you, Mom.”</em></strong></font></p> <p>I love you, too, Lil.</p> <p>And this is when I decided….I am NOT up for Mother-of-the-Year once again.  <strong><em>Fuck.</em></strong></p> <p><font color="#800080" size="4"><strong><em>Big sigh.</em></strong></font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-30752471945962444912011-06-23T07:41:00.001-07:002011-06-23T07:41:56.670-07:00Where Is My Wife?<p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">It's me – Pete….some of you know me as Mr. Sake as in</font> <font color="#800080" size="3"><strong><em>“Oh For Pete’s Sake!”</em></strong></font></p> <p><font color="#804000" size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">Things have been a bit hectic around here so once again I'm here to fill in the blanks.</font></p> <font color="#804000"> <p> <br /><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">I think the last time Mrs. Sake had the chance to actually sit down to write about her trials was sometime in the early 1900's. No, we certainly are not that old and Al Gore wasn't even born yet so how could the internet even have possibly existed?  You get the idea, hence there is a lot of subject matter that could be covered here but I intend to focus on just one - lucky for you.  </font></p> <p> <br /><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">As faithful followers you know that Mrs. Sake took on a new job with greater responsibility- probably more than she actually wanted but certainly not beyond her capabilities. This new position is a managerial position at a nursing home.  She has invested her soul into proper care of our elderly population and her attention to details made her a perfect fit for the job. </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">Throughout the past six months she not only had to deal with a tremendous backlog of paperwork -which she promptly updated - but she improved the performance of her position to beyond that of any of her predecessors. The improvement has been so profound that all worries about anything having to do with her oversight are not questioned. There are no concerns - not by the director of nursing, not by the site administration, and not even by the corporate board.</font></p> <p> <br /><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">This is where everything really begins to take shape. She is so efficient that the site administration regularly asks her to cover for other manager shortfalls no matter what they may be. Sometimes it is assisting other managers to complete their duties but usually she is asked to assist with staff scheduling errors. This is a polite way of saying they take advantage of her efficiency and "request" that she perform typical RN duties for the residents. This usually involves her staying hours beyond her normal shift.</font></p> <p> <br /><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">Gripe #1: It is known that registered nurses command a good hourly pay rate, nurse managers are salaried employees. Therefore there is no additional compensation for the extra hours she puts in. Can you say…</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HU5VKw5jGfk/TgNQqLMqolI/AAAAAAAACfg/riQ99naC21I/s1600-h/volunteer%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="volunteer" border="0" alt="volunteer" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mIQqcQgexjA/TgNQqRM6y5I/AAAAAAAACfk/dRW92VYwxVg/volunteer_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="172" /></a> </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">It would be one thing if the additional time was a direct result of something she did not do in her titled position but this is not the case. Worst part is the managers directly responsible for needing her to perform the extra hours are clock-watchers and out of the building when their shifts are complete. Fair? NOT!!!  </font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fSXkGQgmGqs/TgNQq2I0NKI/AAAAAAAACfo/EBBSo-yXgBc/s1600-h/nursesrunning%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="nursesrunning" border="0" alt="nursesrunning" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-F3IXhStt0F8/TgNQrHsvSJI/AAAAAAAACfs/lsHaXA1v-eg/nursesrunning_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="295" height="187" /></a> </p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p> <br /><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">Gripe #2: On-call/Manager-on-duty weekends. This happens on a regularly scheduled rotation involving all the nurse managers. She has a employee schedule to look after and a company cell phone for staff to contact her directly in emergency - resident or staffing.  I hate that cell phone so much that I almost took it for a swimming lesson in the creek behind our house on several occasions.  One weekend that phone was ringing so often that she only got 4 hours sleep over 72 hours. That phone wakes me too and we both are on edge when it rings. She lost her Mother's Day weekend to that phone. And Father's Day weekend - you guessed it - we have that damn phone again. Yes I said "we". That phone affects all of us here at home.</font></p> <p> <br /><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">Gripe #3: Dateline Monday thru Wednesday. Wife is awakened with my kiss at 530AM to begin her day. Shower, teeth brushed, makeup. Wake the Littles and get them ready - a task in itself. She reports to work at 8AM and works till 530PM- no lunch of course. Tuesday- same early routine, same report time. Only this time her work day extends to 7PM. Why? Because she is once again being taken advantage of and working the floor. Where are the other managers? GONE!!! Remember, for them it’s 5PM and out. Wednesday- same morning routine (either we are creatures of habit or slaves to society). Her workday starts as usual only this time there is a state inspector on site. Usually routine but not this time. A resident is losing weight at a questionable rate. The nurse managers are all over the facility making sure nothing is left undone. Then the fun begins. 530PM comes around and Mrs. Sake is asked to work 7PM to 4AM as a floor RN. Ironically I texted her prior to that saying if they asked her to work extra that day I would blow the roof off the place with the sheer volume of my voice. To my disdain she reluctantly agrees. Apparently the night was uneventful until 4AM. Where was the nurse coming on shift? 430? 5AM?  600AM and finally she shows up - 22 hours after Mrs. Sake's work day began. So that's three days and 41 work hours. Oh so kind was administration that they offered in advance that the misses could have Thursday off. Not good enough. Friday too or no overnight shift. They reluctantly agreed.  Kicker- on Friday she needed to report in to pick up the On-call/Manager-on-duty phone and papers because it was her scheduled weekend.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">This place has made my wife into something she is not….</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS"></font></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iZFVZR-Ie4Q/TgNQrrzWHZI/AAAAAAAACfw/mm9lvXPrBes/s1600-h/yuk%252520nurse%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="yuk nurse" border="0" alt="yuk nurse" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HP26YniQQ78/TgNQsH9Q-MI/AAAAAAAACf0/FwJHyRdQqW0/yuk%252520nurse_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="246" height="273" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">Let’s all hope and pray my wife returns from this ordeal with her spirit still intact, her love of nursing still present, and  oh yeah….no blood stains.</font></p> <p><font size="3" face="Comic Sans MS">~Mr. Sake</font></p> <p><font size="3"></font></p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="3"><em>And this is how it has gone down…for real.  I have 5 more days left <strike>for them to use and abuse me</strike> at this place, and I cannot wait to be done.  Not because of MY job, but because of all the EXTRAS.  You know…”duties as assigned”??  Fuck that!  From this point on “duties as assigned” better be written out for me or I am walking the other way!</em></font></p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="3"><em>When I start my new adventure, I will have several days where I will be able to blog, to spend time with my kids, clean the house, and  maybe even cook dinner!!  Imagine that!!  </em></font></p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="3"><em>Give Mr. Sake a round of applause for summing up my first (and last) six months of employment at this facility.  I am thankful he has been able to pick up that slack as I was <strike>being held captive</strike> sorting out the mess that I got myself into with this new position!</em></font></p> <p><em><font color="#8000ff" size="3">Here’s to new adventures and leaving the past….well….in the past!!</font></em></p> <p><em><font color="#8000ff" size="3"></font></em></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KAZNuTRJyxQ/TgNQspw1JkI/AAAAAAAACf4/ohES7xzWCIk/s1600-h/Cheers%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Cheers" border="0" alt="Cheers" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fQmKe58AiGc/TgNQs3u7q_I/AAAAAAAACf8/EpdEFJIzzww/Cheers_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="305" height="231" /></a> </p> <p><em><font color="#8000ff" size="3"> </font></em></p> </font> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-66938066784593663662011-06-18T08:11:00.001-07:002011-06-18T08:11:16.747-07:00I Am Special<p><em><font color="#800080">I wrote this in May….I wasn’t going to post it until I was done working out my notice but I have 2 more weeks to go and nothing much has changed.  It is what it is and I am almost D.O.N.E.   Time to move on…yes, time to move on!!  Why??  Because I AM more special than THIS…..</font></em></p> <p>I. Am. Special.  I belong to a “team” or so they call it at my place of employment.  The special “management team”.</p> <p>We MANAGE our own jobs to the T.  We also MANAGE the jobs of others as best we can.  Some times we <strong><em>think </em></strong>we manage the other jobs better than the other person can actually DO the job.  It’s really rather amusing if you ask me.</p> <p>The other day, as a management team member, I was pulled to the unit to do the job of one of the NON-management personnel.  Yep…I can do it.  And I did it without one temper tantrum, and I did it without shedding one tear.  Was I happy?  Nope.  I have not been trained properly to do this person’s job.  BUT….I HAVE been trained to manage the person that normally does the job.</p> <p>Are you following me here?</p> <p>That’s right.  Our management team is <em><strong>special </strong></em>because we are there to manage other people without really knowing how the other people perform their job.  It’s amazing.</p> <p>On top of the managing part of our jobs, we have our own jobs.  And yes, our jobs are also managed by someone higher up than we are.  I do my job to the best of my ability but I am still new at it.  I give it my all and then some more.  Mostly because I’m scared of the management above me, but also because I care.</p> <p>Last week I was supposed to help with the company Memorial Day picnic and my job, as management, was to serve ice-cream.  Yep.  That was my job.  BUT, that was the day I got pulled to one of the units to pass meds.  I was so worried there wouldn’t be another person from our special management team qualified to serve the ice cream, because when this was mentioned to me, there was absolutely no discussion…I MUST be present at the picnic.  </p> <p>Being pulled to the unit to pass meds was worrisome….yes it was.  I was worried the ice cream would go un-passed and this would be so detrimental to the image we are trying to build back up within the community.  </p> <p>Not once as I sweat my ass off passing meds hoping I was doing the right thing for the right patient did I see one of my “team players” offering to help me.  I figured they must be busy getting ready for the picnic.  No big deal.  </p> <p>The food was set up on the unit where I was working.  I was starving because I did not get a break at all….well, I had one break but hell with food, I needed to smoke!  </p> <p>During the busy med pass I had one of the management team come up to me and tell me all staff had to move their vehicles off the property to make room for the many community members who were expected to attend our awesome picnic.  I could not leave to move my car.  I was passing fucking medication!!  So, one of the nice team members offered to move it for me.  Nice.   Asshat!</p> <p>When I took my break I went out the back way so no one would see me go smoke…and man…you should have seen all the cars in the lot!!  I was amazed!!  </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNi7u6kVrEFErbv-7hVlw8P7DzwvuJ5WHifuemqYmp8epEWPAQqtR-kzotjOncQ9wCP4f-un0p0o53GEuI2UctUjJ9zRaXiCOWmpHGGaRH3fE126CnU6PcuTq76-UDUiktDZLn59vWp8D/s1600-h/lot5.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="lot" border="0" alt="lot" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7EhJL74PLz4/TfzABaY0StI/AAAAAAAACfM/_FJP1LRC0DQ/lot_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="351" height="194" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Allllll these people came to OUR special Memorial Day picnic??  No way.</p> <p>After the party was over I watched as the special management team members cleaned up the mess.  I gave report to the on-coming nurse and then sat to chart because I felt that I would get crucified if I missed anything.  I got out late.  But what really pissed me off is that not ONE of my “team-mates” even stopped to see if I needed anything before they left.  They were gone.  Every. Last. One. Of. Them.   </p> <p>G.O.N.E.</p> <p>What the fuck??  Seriously??</p> <p>Thank God for my sister that I coerced into working there with me.  She was working on another unit and we were able to walk out of there with our heads held high like we didn’t give a fuck about anything.  We felt “special” to have to walk a half a mile to find our vehicles that the “management team” had offered to move for us.  </p> <p>Regardless, I was sort of questioning how special I really was until this weekend.  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8FVetVVYtfI/TfzACRERKnI/AAAAAAAACfQ/q4I0h8Vr6r4/s1600-h/IMG0059220110530183515.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG00592-20110530-1835 (1)" border="0" alt="IMG00592-20110530-1835 (1)" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAlECbFNBBNqokWE8Ya-HOzJ9O105Lcv1MM1JWHs-bbWpAJWw369Ve1gr0xOQf_Bo2b0gY0Sd6O1vfaIAru5g9gJTlMSw307aWti4Cx0sRWcgAQqrLEY-OLDGhLeUWjs84VKLAkLInFSGH/?imgmax=800" width="333" height="251" /></a> </p> <p>This weekend…… I received a card in the mail from my place of employment.  This is how I KNEW just exactly how special they think I am.  You see…it was a birthday card.  Picked out <font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>especially for me.</em></strong></font>  I know it took someone a good long time to pick it out and to get everyone to sign it.  Yeah…that must have been quite hectic to do.  If you look closely you will see……</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mghg_34YOyY/TfzADxKEYjI/AAAAAAAACfY/ZDTIoOD61bc/s1600-h/IMG00593201105301835b5.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG00593-20110530-1835b" border="0" alt="IMG00593-20110530-1835b" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wKegIyxJnXU/TfzAEtwh9sI/AAAAAAAACfc/U11XFuVJgmQ/IMG00593201105301835b_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="392" height="297" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Yep!  I signed my own fucking card in one of our morning meetings!!  Don’t you think they would work at little harder at <strong><em>not </em></strong>having the person sign their own card when all the cards are passed around to sign??  Don’t you think????  Aren’t we all more special than that???</p> <p>And…my birthday is in JUNE, you muther truckers!!</p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-24647780963280093092011-04-22T18:19:00.001-07:002011-04-22T18:19:25.193-07:00My Nut Just Got Washed<p>This has been Hell Week #37 out of week #16, 2011….is that alot of Hell Weeks, or what?  Seriously…I SOOOO need this:</p> <p><a href="http://www.ourdandelionwishes.com/2011/04/friday-confessional_22.html"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="FridayConfessionalButton-1" border="0" alt="FridayConfessionalButton-1" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpEHBjJuI/AAAAAAAACek/JIKmUsEMMqI/FridayConfessionalButton-1%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="222" /></a> </p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> that when I got a call from my supervisor when I was on the way to work telling me I needed to be “floor nurse” at 11, I nearly puked.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpESfxjHI/AAAAAAAACeo/ryxfTSCAKcU/s1600-h/puke2%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="puke2" border="0" alt="puke2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpE4QP6XI/AAAAAAAACes/HXklfY4JHuM/puke2_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="195" height="177" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p><font color="#ff0080" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> that I am not that efficient working the floor at the new place because….and I say this with teeth clenched….I HAVE NEVER BEEN TRAINED TO WORK THE FLOOR AT THE NEW PLACE.</p> <p>Just sayin…</p> <p>I was told I would only be on the floor passing meds until 3pm.  Ok…I can do this, right?  </p> <p><font color="#008000" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font>….it did NOT go well.</p> <p><font color="#0000ff" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> that as 5pm rolled around and there was no relief in sight….once again, I wanted to puke.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCkffAg5nA0IspM_dHsqcWZT2Ts1SHRbimV2umqsvE__r_QZE66AE16L__qJ6TZzMv8bbeSIb9lR1_vqAwvX5XlFfuGTSREhoIE2dIMZkK1TG2Oen7sgPXJtMGrz8GS2ZwoUa3rOv5pLZE/s1600-h/puke3%5B2%5D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="puke3" border="0" alt="puke3" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpF-ALqCI/AAAAAAAACe0/8hAA_2uB0GM/puke3_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="194" height="134" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>What the fuck??</p> <p>Seriously??</p> <p>I am part of what they call the “management team”.  I am in charge of Restorative.  I am in charge of investigating incidents that occur in the building.  I do some management “things”….</p> <p>I am NOT a floor nurse/charge nurse at this facility.  That is why I HAVE NEVER BEEN TRAINED TO WORK THE FLOOR AT THIS PLACE.</p> <p><font color="#004080" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> that when a family member told me she was told by a nursing assistant that <em>“we don’t have a wheelchair to take your mother in law down to get her hair done”</em>….my jaw dropped.</p> <p>Are we not a muther truckin REHAB FACILITY???</p> <p>AND we have NO WHEELCHAIR???</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpGL79hNI/AAAAAAAACe4/KwxuVDAyYjo/s1600-h/imagesCA4I76IJ%5B8%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="imagesCA4I76IJ" border="0" alt="imagesCA4I76IJ" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpGcvmXCI/AAAAAAAACe8/0qrh8REQpCw/imagesCA4I76IJ_thumb%5B6%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="162" height="160" /></a> </p> <p>OMG…</p> <p>…Kill me now.</p> <p><font color="#804000" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> I wanted to take that nursing assistant by the throat and throttle her overly-tanned orangey-looking face to the fuckin’ moon!</p> <p><font color="#ff80c0" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> that at 5:30 after texting my spouse that <strike>I was being held captive</strike> I would not be able to pick up the short people from the sitter’s, I was fighting back tears.</p> <p><font color="#ff0000" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> that when the sweetest nurse on this earth came over from the other unit to help me out, I lost it.</p> <p>I cried and hid in the med room for several minutes before coming out and busting ass to finish the assignment.</p> <p><font color="#800000" size="4" face="Bazooka">I confess</font> that I logged in to the computer to do what they call “Medicare Charting”, I basically said, FUCK THIS! and logged back off.</p> <p>Seriously?</p> <p>In MY position, I know how to CHECK to see if the Medicare charting is DONE…now HOW it’s done.  </p> <p>Now, this was THE day from hell.   But…let me tell you a story.  One of the residents needed to use the bathroom.  Ok…I can DO that.  I assisted him to walk into the bathroom.  Gave him privacy although I kept the door cracked so I could keep an eye on his unsteady self.  When he was ready to get up I popped in and began helping him.  All of a sudden though, this man’s legs weren’t working.  He had no balance although he kept saying he was fine.  As I said, one of my REAL jobs here is to monitor the “incidents”.  That means FALLS!!  Oh hell no, this man was NOT falling on the Restorative Nurse!!</p> <p>I couldn’t leave him to get help although I did pull the bathroom call light in hopes there was someone who may come.  Ya never know…..</p> <p>No one came.  </p> <p>Then this fella said, <em>“Oh I better flush again…it didn’t work the last time.”</em>  Just as I was saying,<strong><em> “Noooooo…..!”,</em></strong> he turned and flushed.  Then he lost his balance and had to sit again.  The water, instead of going DOWN….started to come UP!  I had that <font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em>the-toilet-is-over-flowing-panic </em></strong></font>moment and screamed, <strong><em>“GET UP GET UP GET UP!!!!!”</em></strong></p> <p><strong><em></em></strong></p> <p><strong><em></em></strong></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpGnt7b_I/AAAAAAAACfA/iTTXNgztBYA/s1600-h/imagesCAYTR6RE%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="imagesCAYTR6RE" border="0" alt="imagesCAYTR6RE" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TbIpHG0f_JI/AAAAAAAACfE/_OuEWxkoCW4/imagesCAYTR6RE_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="177" height="147" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Holy fuck I was going to be standing in shit with this man and there was nothing I was going to be able to do because this man was NOT going to end up on the floor!!  No way No how!!!</p> <p>Well, the water stopped coming up…it only made it to the rim, thank God.  The panic was settling although I was still wondering if anyone was ever coming to help….and this man, bless him, he says, <em>“Well….my nut just got washed.”</em></p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>OHMYFUCKINGGODKILLMENOW!!!</em></strong></font></p> <p>I laughed my ass off.</p> <p>And I laughed some more.</p> <p>And by God, THIS was the moment I needed all fucking day!</p> <p>So…although it was a hell-ish day, this old man with his awesome wit…he MADE MY DAY.</p> <p> And THIS,<font color="#ff00ff" size="4" face="Bazooka"> I confess</font>, is <strong><em>why</em></strong> I’m a nurse in the first place.</p> <p>(and,  just so you know, help DID come….but only after I called the nurse’s station from my cell phone that we are not supposed to have with us while working….imagine THAT.)</p> <p>Thank you, Ladies, for the opportunity once again to confess.  I feel cleansed and ready to work my part-time job tomorrow…THIS job I AM a floor nurse, and I CAN do it!!</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#800080" size="5" face="GoudyOlSt BT"><strong><em>HAPPY FRIDAY!!</em></strong></font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-28053306492026935122011-04-17T20:34:00.001-07:002011-04-17T20:34:55.969-07:00Ten Years Ago<p>Do you ever look back and think of how far you’ve come in a decade??  I normally do not.  I try to look forward. </p> <p>Always, always…..ALWAYS look FORWARD.</p> <p>But today…</p> <p>…today is special to me.</p> <p>Ten years ago today I was working somewhere else.  I was not married to the man I am married to today.  I had a Dad AND a Mom who were both still living.  I had a different group of friends.  Some of them I still have….others??  Yeah….not so much.</p> <p>But most importantly, I was ready to become a Mom for the second time.</p> <p>I remember it being a pretty uneventful pregnancy.  Sure, there were things that made me go “hmmmmm”….but isn’t there always something like that when you’re pregnant?  Is THIS normal?  Is THAT normal?  Should I be having THIS pain….or THAT pain??  </p> <p>All of my prenatal visits went without alarm.  My baby was growing…my baby’s heartbeat was good….my baby was moving as he should be inside there.</p> <p>I was not worried.  Why would I be?  I had my first born, my daughter, who is now 13 1/2 going on 24.  She was always a good baby.  She was 3…..almost 4 at the time.  We were preparing her to be a “big sister”!!  Yeah for you, baby girl!!  You are going to be a big sister!  You will get to teach your baby brother all that you know!  Aren’t you thrilled??  What a big job that is going to be.  And only YOU can do it…because YOU are going to be the BEST big sister I know!  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TauxWaq6oNI/AAAAAAAACeU/PjbrTSLU0vk/s1600-h/IMG_0002_NEW%5B6%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMG_0002_NEW" border="0" alt="IMG_0002_NEW" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TauxWyqdrrI/AAAAAAAACeY/2IQdrM21iTs/IMG_0002_NEW_thumb%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="218" height="300" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>My daughter was ecstatic that she was going to be the one her little brother was going to look up to.  She was going to teach him his colors and his numbers and maybe even sing to him.  She was THREE, ya know….and she could do it all.  She loved him even before he was “real”.</p> <p>But….</p> <p>…there was a problem.</p> <p>On the morning of April 17th, 2001, I woke up.  I got ready for work as usual.  I got my daughter off to the sitter’s as usual.  Sent the spouse off to work as usual.  But wait…what was that weird feeling I was having in my upper back?  That was an odd one, yes it was.  Thought maybe some indigestion….</p> <p>…took some Tums and off to work I went.  I started seeing my patients yet in the back of my mind was that uncomfortable feeling in my upper back that I just couldn’t seem to forget about.  Was my little baby’s foot stuck up under my rib??  Was he pushing on my lung?  Is that even possible?</p> <p>A little bit after 10am I called my obstetrician.  My regular one was not in so I spoke with one of the other doctors  in the office.  He didn’t seem concerned although he suggested I come in for him to check things out.  He asked if I felt the baby move lately…..</p> <p>No.  No I don’t recall feeling any movement, but I normally didn’t feel much until I was ready to sleep…THAT is when he became active.  So, I was not going to get all worked up now.</p> <p>I finished the patient visit I was on and drove over the doctor’s office.  I sat in the exam room for just a short while which seemed like ages because by this point I was worried at the no movement comment.  Why isn’t my baby moving?  I’m sitting….I’m trying to be calm….come on little guy….move it!</p> <p>The doc came in.  He felt around my large abdomen.  Did I mention I was 37 weeks along?  Yep.  Soon…very soon I would be the Mom of two.</p> <p>The doc then got out the doppler.  He listened.  Well…we BOTH listened.  </p> <p>And listened.</p> <p>And listened.</p> <p>Nothing.</p> <p>Silence.</p> <p>Total…deafening….heart-breaking SILENCE.</p> <p>The doc looked at me.</p> <p>I looked at him.</p> <p>A little bit of me died inside as I KNEW, even though he was sending me for an immediate ultrasound, I KNEW what was happening.</p> <p>I remember calling my work place.  They asked if I was ok.  I said no.  Just….No.  </p> <p>I remember calling my husband at the time.  I couldn’t speak.  The nurse spoke for me and the next thing I knew he was there and we were on our way to the hospital for the ultrasound.</p> <p>I do not remember getting to the hospital, or walking into the ultrasound room.  I only remember the silence when they put the monitor on my belly.  </p> <p>The fucking, sickening, disgusting SILENCE of no heartbeat.</p> <p>Later that evening I had a C-section and delivered a beautiful 3 pound 1 ounce baby boy, Nathaniel Joseph Guzik.  He was not breathing, he had no heartbeat…but he was beautiful.</p> <p>Today he would be 10.  </p> <p>I hope and pray he is up there in <em>his </em>heaven….with his Daddy…I hope they are maybe fishing, or riding bikes, or just sitting and eating cake. </p> <p>And to you, Nathan, I send this song:</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px auto; padding-left: 0px; width: 397px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:f18a21b6-082c-4851-959a-9a8a7f4ba1bf" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="3e6b5d8a-192d-4943-9c7e-ccf5483b22db" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmxILVVoRGA&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TauxXSxQnOI/AAAAAAAACec/o19xT09Vlyc/videoc4b9af178752%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('3e6b5d8a-192d-4943-9c7e-ccf5483b22db'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"397\" height=\"297\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/fmxILVVoRGA&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/fmxILVVoRGA&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"397\" height=\"297\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p> </p> <p></p> <p>And to my three children on this earth…The Teen, Lil Lady, and Little Man….</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:96800eca-0da5-4271-ace3-9ed193e08bbd" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="fdb475e1-4d91-46d0-9bbf-07b4b7a56247" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpevqxljOKY&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TauxX_3DCfI/AAAAAAAACeg/edvOpJlhvGc/videoa3a0581ceafa%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('fdb475e1-4d91-46d0-9bbf-07b4b7a56247'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"394\" height=\"295\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/DpevqxljOKY&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/DpevqxljOKY&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"394\" height=\"295\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p> </p> <p>Ten Years Ago….seems like a lifetime, yet….I can feel it as if it was yesterday.</p> <p>It’s okay to look back once in a while.  It’s okay.  Because wherever we have been…is why we are where we are today.</p> <p>Hug your children, your family, your friends….</p> <p>…you never know what tomorrow may bring.</p> <p> </p> <p>Happy Birthday, Nathan!!  I love you!!</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Mommy</p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-88412916215031288412011-04-04T13:58:00.001-07:002011-04-04T13:58:59.460-07:00Wh-Whaaat??<p>I am seriously concerned that I haven’t blogged for so long.  All since starting my new job.  Now….so much happens every single <strike>horrendous</strike> day that I have no idea what to blog about because I really don’t want to ramble or anything like that, and I wouldn’t want to bore you, and well, yeah….I can be long-winded…Oh, puh-leeease, yes, I can…..</p> <p>Anyrambling…here goes it….</p> <p>Do I blog about how my house is infested with germs?  You know the kind…the ones that make toddlers’ noses drain constantly with snot, or the ones that make Little Man have explosive diarrhea….or the ones that made me lay in bed last Friday evening moaning and groaning and chanting the mantra “I will not puke I will not puke I will not puke”.  Yeah, THOSE germs.  I have just about had it with illness.  Seems that every other week one of us has some sort of bug…and that does not include the bug that seems to be up the spouse’s ass….</p> <p>OOOOOHHHHHH For PETE’S SAKE!!  I’m kidding you!!  I would be the one with the bug up MY ass!!  You got it….I’m sick.  Sick and tired of shit in my house.  Every where I look there is shit.  Stacks and stacks upon stacks of SHIT!  Should I blog about that?  Nahhh….who gives a flying shit??  Apparently nobody that lives here.</p> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0080" size="6"><strong>~~~~~~</strong></font></p> <p>Shall I blog about my last on-call weekend?  The one where the new nursing supervisor called me, the “Nurse <font color="#800080"><strong><em>Manganger</em></strong></font>…<strike>cough cough</strike>..On-Call”, telling me he needs help hanging the TPN for the one patient.  </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZow_GRlnTI/AAAAAAAACdU/6jFkwRWoB94/s1600-h/TPN%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="TPN" border="0" alt="TPN" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZow_pqLttI/AAAAAAAACdY/MJUQYfD09aY/TPN_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="131" height="240" /></a>(For those of you non-medical people…TPN stands for Total Parental <font color="#ff0000"><strong><em>Nutrition</em></strong></font>.  It’s someone’s FOOD!  Their SUSTANANCE for Pete’s sake…..) </p> <p>Ok….at first, no big deal other than he JUST took the bag of TPN out of the fridge at 11pm (when he decided to call for assistance), and it should have been out of the fridge warming up at 8pm cuz you <em>don’t infuse COLD fluids eh-vahhh</em>….go figure, 3 hours late already.  </p> <p>I politely (because that’s me, PO-lite) ask his possibly foreign self if I could talk him through mixing the TPN over the phone and then hanging it.  You see, you have to mix other things into the primary mixture….like vitamins and sometimes insulin.  He said, “um….no, Ma’am……….”   Wha-WHAAAT???  Hold it right THERE, Fucker!  Did you just call me “MA’AM”????  K…this is already not going well.</p> <p>Regardless, I ignore the fucking “ma’am” comment (because I am more <strong><em>mature</em></strong> than that) and let him continue…He says, “No, Ma’am, I tink you need to come een an show me.  It will be en educatin for me.”  </p> <p><font color="#0000ff" size="4"><strong><em>WHA-WHAAAT??</em></strong></font></p> <p>Oh, Mr. In Need of an Education…..YOU should be fully educated at this point since YOU have had plenty of orientation, and YOU already have your nursing license, do you not???</p> <p>Seriously?  My first thought was <font color="#8000ff" size="3"><strong><em>ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??</em></strong></font></p> <p>I tell him I will call him back shortly since we have to wait for the TPN to warm up any ways, <strike>you fucking jerk!</strike> </p> <p>I tell my husband what this guy just said….His response??</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZow_6M9YXI/AAAAAAAACdc/gyk6s7Mgsf8/s1600-h/fingkiddingme%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="fingkiddingme" border="0" alt="fingkiddingme" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxATa-MeI/AAAAAAAACdg/exWA0yiVzyo/fingkiddingme_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="273" height="181" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="5"><strong><em>???????</em></strong></font></p> <p>Me….nope…no kidding here, honey bun.</p> <p>I call MY supervisor to <strike>ask what the fuck kind of nurses she is hiring</strike> ask for direction.  Her response?</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxAhimpqI/AAAAAAAACdk/dNZdPxFaF_M/s1600-h/imagesCAJK141Z%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="imagesCAJK141Z" border="0" alt="imagesCAJK141Z" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxA9dXK3I/AAAAAAAACdo/hnPBV9R6Q3c/imagesCAJK141Z_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="310" height="249" /></a><font color="#008000" size="5"><strong><em>                          ?????</em></strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p>Me…Chuckling a bit now.</p> <p>I text my sister who now works with me at my wonderful place of employment because <strike>I am training her for a marathon</strike> I sort of coerced her a bit….</p> <p>Her response via text?</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxBaf4yQI/AAAAAAAACds/dDKCTGmz2Go/s1600-h/text%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="text" border="0" alt="text" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxB2UnvhI/AAAAAAAACdw/LXFyVTJzVFc/text_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="198" height="290" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>I kid you not!  I was rolling on the god-damn floor at this point!  I’ve never heard <font color="#ff00ff" size="3"><strong><em>“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??”</em></strong></font>  so many times in just a few short minutes!! </p> <p>HIGH-larious!!!</p> <p>I text my <em><strong>other</strong></em> supervisor because she always has some sort of plan up her sleeve, cuz she rocks like that.  Her response??</p> <p>You got it!!</p> <p><font color="#0080c0" size="4"><strong><em>“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???”</em></strong></font></p> <p>Ahhhhhhhahahahahahaha!  At this point I start looking for the hidden camera because I am damn certain I am on Candid Camera because there is <strong><em>NO fucking WAY</em></strong> this is happening to me at ELEVEN PM on a SATURDAY night when all good girls and boys should be in bed!!!</p> <p>All in all, it ended well.  I didn’t need to go educate the fucker because we had an LPN at the facility that really needs to be an RN, and she was able to talk him through it.  </p> <p align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="6"><strong>~~~~~~~~~</strong></font></p> <p>I could also blog about some of the call-offs I received that weekend.  Some of the reasons people call off are truly amazing. For one thing, if it’s something <em>really</em> personal….are you gonna come right out and say WHAT it is??  This is what I mean…</p> <p><font color="#800080" size="3"><strong><em>“I’m calling off because I am mentally not stable to work.  I have a lot of things going on.  I was raped and robbed this weekend and I’m working through it.”</em></strong></font></p> <p><font size="3"><font color="#ff0000"><em>Wha-Whaat???</em>  </font></font></p> <p>Me:  Oh…ummm…Ok, honey…you take care of yourself…..</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxCLION4I/AAAAAAAACd0/REqTzhhb_Do/s1600-h/imagesCAKUP5T5%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="imagesCAKUP5T5" border="0" alt="imagesCAKUP5T5" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxCfYASGI/AAAAAAAACd4/etaSM3PrqHg/imagesCAKUP5T5_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="238" height="211" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p><font color="#800080" size="3"><strong><em>“I won’t be in to work today because my chest hurts.  Well, not my chest…it’s not chest pain or anything like that.  It’s….well….ok, it’s my titty.  Yes, I have pain in my titty.”</em></strong></font></p> <p>Me:  Holy fucking hell….that sounds serious.  Did you say, TITTY??</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxCvRSNOI/AAAAAAAACd8/IVMAjChmrb4/s1600-h/shocked%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="shocked" border="0" alt="shocked" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxC1d7rvI/AAAAAAAACeA/MkI7ud6RY8M/shocked_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="204" height="127" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Honestly…if I had pain in MY titty…I would NOT report it as my reason to call off…I think I might say I am ill.  That. Is. All.  </p> <p>After several call-offs, my response resembled THIS….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxDa84jAI/AAAAAAAACeE/r4sRYGybS8Y/s1600-h/i-cant-hear-you%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="i-cant-hear-you" border="0" alt="i-cant-hear-you" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxDvE8WJI/AAAAAAAACeI/7kBfMexStFI/i-cant-hear-you_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="157" /></a></p> <p>La-La-La!!   I can’t HEAR YOU!!</p> <p>We now have a new slogan at my work-place.  On that following Monday, our “management team” put our heads together and this is what we came up with…..we even made buttons promoting it….</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxEDnD2ZI/AAAAAAAACeM/4r7Ub7WQaOk/s1600-h/BUTTON2%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="BUTTON2" border="0" alt="BUTTON2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TZoxEprwXXI/AAAAAAAACeQ/1NwedvTxvH4/BUTTON2_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="240" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>What do YOU think?  </p> <p>Seriously…I love my job, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="6"><strong><em>Happy MONDAY!!</em></strong></font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-60332130601610462492011-03-05T19:13:00.001-08:002011-03-05T19:13:50.138-08:00Certifiably Insane<p>Unfortunately, after writing such a sweet, heart-felt post about squeezing the fucking oranges, I have to follow it up with a post about losing my freakin’ mind.  How sad is THAT??</p> <p>You see….it’s been raining….and raining A LOT…</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL7viL5KtI/AAAAAAAACbw/Dh3_pdzXjx4/s1600-h/50a%5B3%5D.gif"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="50a" border="0" alt="50a" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL7waqQU2I/AAAAAAAACb0/E5Y28owUSss/50a_thumb%5B1%5D.gif?imgmax=800" width="165" height="240" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>I honestly prefer the snow…</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL7wkv0u_I/AAAAAAAACb4/o2YygQln6Ig/s1600-h/snow%20white%5B3%5D.gif"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="snow white" border="0" alt="snow white" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL7w5f-9sI/AAAAAAAACb8/fjq_vJH1ROM/snow%20white_thumb%5B1%5D.gif?imgmax=800" width="130" height="148" /></a> </p> <p>Oh Jayzus Criminey!!   I said SNOW, not G-d Damn SNOW WHITE!!!</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL7yghjJLI/AAAAAAAACcA/tklruw0fU7k/s1600-h/SNOW202%5B3%5D.gif"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="SNOW202" border="0" alt="SNOW202" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL70i0E30I/AAAAAAAACcE/9LWeVKY50g8/SNOW202_thumb%5B1%5D.gif?imgmax=800" width="200" height="150" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>There…much better, and much prettier than the nasty RAIN!</p> <p>Regardless…snow brings snowmen, and rain brings fucking MUD!!  And MUD is in my yard where the damn dog goes out to take a shit.  And when the dog goes out to take a shit, her ADD takes over and she decides to dig a damn hole to China.</p> <p>There is a big difference between digging in the snow and digging in the mud….one is CLEAN and one is DIRTY.  Bottom line. </p> <p><font color="#0000ff" size="4"><strong><em>Clean digging:</em></strong></font></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL71Jd7HzI/AAAAAAAACcI/JvglXOoYNG0/s1600-h/clean%20digging%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="clean digging" border="0" alt="clean digging" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL71fLtKbI/AAAAAAAACcM/eZdMRCPXISY/clean%20digging_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a> </p> <p><font color="#804040" size="4"><strong><em>Dirty digging:</em></strong></font></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL71qaKJYI/AAAAAAAACcQ/B7o8MxjKgCg/s1600-h/dirty%20digging%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="dirty digging" border="0" alt="dirty digging" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL72HpsfQI/AAAAAAAACcU/QxaDhliirig/dirty%20digging_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="202" /></a> </p> <p>You see the difference??  Neither one of these dogs is mine…I did not get a pic of mine <strike>because I was too busy beating the living shit out of her</strike> because she was put in the shower by the teen faster than I can say WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?????</p> <p>The doggie door I so much adore because I don’t have to let the dog out OR let the dog in??  Yeah, that door is gonna be nailed shut after today.  You see…the dog went out….I didn’t even know, or if I DID know subconsciously, I didn’t really care.</p> <p>BUT….</p> <p>….and this is a BIG BUT (….or a FAT ASS) …….</p> <p><font color="#8000ff" size="3"><strong><em>BUT</em></strong></font>…When she came back in she <font color="#ff0080" size="4"><strong><em>FLEW</em></strong></font> in the door and tracked mud from the doorway through the kitchen and then through the living room (need I mention this room would be carpeted??)…then as I chased her muddy ass she ran AROUND the reclining chair….and back through the kitchen.  I trapped her by locking the gates on either side of the kitchen.</p> <p>Unfortunately, poor thing was petrified of what I was going to do to her, so she tried like hell to climb her fatness over the gate and in the process she got mud alllll over the gate and alllll over the fucking wall.  Not to mention my slippers…which, for your information, one is now M.I.A.</p> <p>See??</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL72ie1bII/AAAAAAAACcY/Ii7dHsnvbko/s1600-h/mud3%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="mud3" border="0" alt="mud3" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4mhfMNDBnVww9s30yvQa2s81f0HwFaHRE4SSi0gu-Bt2FR_tg8S_iD-jdHc3opDc8QXoR4w4WNiPsp2zfOWcwtAh9-2wvShQgQx5UAfEENplcYl0IqqyBKHQsjspjSVb6WPnbPY2IAO4/?imgmax=800" width="246" height="186" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL73lesbxI/AAAAAAAACck/fy9GMxOg0Ag/s1600-h/mud%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="mud" border="0" alt="mud" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL730C54JI/AAAAAAAACco/dCg_4L4B-9k/mud_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="246" height="186" /></a></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDWDTyMGnEZn6pQ_PDAgsk3FCcIUevqG2eaTsDCZUVfJD0g_aziJS_3bsdb2h0c2lOAbtIETQbe-27ozZ-bGJDbJIrtKDPXkaRiC5MKv365_XAcCMcmeoBZXRmLQbOTe_pMT3mwG68Lpm/s1600-h/mud2%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="mud2" border="0" alt="mud2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL741OcfRI/AAAAAAAACcw/Ieu7cY9mDlk/mud2_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="246" height="186" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Oh-kayyyyy….so the pics are NOT clear, but I was way too ticked off to even hold my Blackberry still enough to take a picture!  Seriously!      </p> <p>So, basically, I turned into a demon….</p> <p>I should apologize….I know I scared the little ones who  were just sitting there with their mouths hanging open….in fact, I tried to pick up Little Man who then reacted like this….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL75KUMnNI/AAAAAAAACc0/R-iD1MKHAqs/s1600-h/imagesCAP8RC6R%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="imagesCAP8RC6R" border="0" alt="imagesCAP8RC6R" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL75sH1tnI/AAAAAAAACc4/T1YCRnPClDE/imagesCAP8RC6R_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="143" height="240" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>And if my dog were a Husky…she would have resembled this…</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yPZIsQ8A_ChBfkUFVk9D4qwf-5oZItPAZTZfgJu_dLrj3lJG0CqNZ-u-85CbTTdscvlsnZxC2SbXvEdojFa3KbjaWaUElVIFwboAQeeqky1ai0FJCukUPin9ROhtFDCFiOPe2jS0qV9T/s1600-h/imagesCAPOM9B6%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="imagesCAPOM9B6" border="0" alt="imagesCAPOM9B6" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL76Nb3UiI/AAAAAAAACdA/ypOskcf6jfk/imagesCAPOM9B6_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="230" height="220" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Really, people…it was bad.  Bad…Bad….BAD!</p> <p>So, I bowed my head in shame…..apologized to the children and the <strike>dumb ass</strike> dog…..<strike>washed down a couple of Xanax with Vodka</strike>, and brought out the big guns….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL76Yh03zI/AAAAAAAACdE/vHXhzuT8O2g/s1600-h/imagesCACK54AK%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="imagesCACK54AK" border="0" alt="imagesCACK54AK" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL76h-p3XI/AAAAAAAACdI/fpSS7RjPiQM/imagesCACK54AK_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Oh, how I wish.</p> <p>Regardless, I got the job done and am now a proud member of the National Rug Cleaning Society.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL76yYuosI/AAAAAAAACdM/ChUxBCcq-2A/s1600-h/rug%20cleaner%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="rug cleaner" border="0" alt="rug cleaner" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TXL77Y08K9I/AAAAAAAACdQ/rybyBXVQa0U/rug%20cleaner_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="225" height="225" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Certified??</p> <p>Yeah, right….</p> <p>Most likely <font color="#400080" size="5"><strong><em>CERTIFIABLE!!!   </em></strong></font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-15118260877245581612011-02-20T13:45:00.001-08:002011-02-20T13:45:04.682-08:00Squeeze Those Oranges!<p>I KNOWWW I haven’t blogged in a while.  I apologize profusely from the bottom of my heart.  </p> <p>Yeah, right.</p> <p>Seriously.  I haven’t had a moment to myself since starting my  new job.  That’s right, when I quit my old job that I loved, I not only gave up a job that I loved, I gave up any free time I was able to squeeze in between my home care patients.  Now….I get to work about 8 am, leave at 5 pm, pick up the little ones from the sitter which takes about a half an hour….and that does not include the drive which is only 15 min. each way…..it takes a half an hour just to get them <font color="#0000ff" size="4"><strong><em>out</em></strong></font> of the sitter’s house.  They dilly-dally getting their boots on, their coats on…then they need a sucker for the ride home, then Little Man forgets his Nintendo DS…then Lil Lady needs to give the sitter just one more hug….</p> <p>Fuck THAT!!  Damn!  I’m in a <font color="#008000" size="4"><strong><em>hurry</em></strong></font> you freakin’ short people!!!</p> <p>Always in a <font color="#ff0080" size="4"><strong><em>hurry</em></strong></font>.</p> <p>My evenings are then spent trying to pick up the house…not Pick Up the HOUSE…but pick up the toys that have TAKEN OVER the house.  Then I help with homework.  Then I log on to work email to see who fell…because I MUST know this before going to work the next day.  I just MUST.  If there are no falls then I continue with the cleaning, maybe do dishes if I had time to cook, if not, I gather up the paper plates and finger foods that me or my spouse divvied up for the <strike>monsters</strike> children….</p> <p><font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em>Rush Rush Rush.</em></strong></font></p> <p>About a week or so ago…yes, it’s taken me this long to write about this, but about a week or so ago, a former patient of mine called to say she’s been saving her oranges for my Lil Lady.  You see, Lil Lady absolutely <font color="#ff0080" size="4"><strong><em>LOVES</em></strong></font> the taste of freshly squeezed orange juice!  I never ever buy oranges because when I do, they go to waste.  Go figure.  But for some reason, my former patient’s oranges are perfect for squeezing….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLO8LQc0I/AAAAAAAACao/EWgmRGDevDk/s1600-h/notime155.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime15" border="0" alt="notime15" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLPXNmDhI/AAAAAAAACas/K-v3tVJCeqg/notime15_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="273" height="207" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>See?  She can’t wait to get her hands on them!</p> <p>I really didn’t have time to go get the oranges, but I made the time.  This lady went through the trouble of saving these oranges, and I needed to show her that it was <strike>a pain in the ass to go get them</strike> extremely appreciated.</p> <p>Remember the days when you were a kid and it didn’t matter what time it was?  It didn’t matter who was waiting on you to get your ass moving…it was All. About. You.  Right?  </p> <p>I miss those days.  </p> <p>Watching my teenager go through it is quite frustrating though.  She takes her time getting ready for school…leaves herself 15 minutes to get ready and even though her ride shows up, she makes them wait.  And this seems ok to her.  WTF?  Seriously??  </p> <p>But I can NOT get her to understand that she needs to move her skinny ass just a bit faster, especially when someone is waiting on her!!</p> <p>Then you have the little ones.  Little Man just goes with the flow for the most part, but Lil Lady…yeah, she has to ENJOY everything.  Especially the little things….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLQQOyK9I/AAAAAAAACaw/05jYn-jQKnU/s1600-h/notime145.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime14" border="0" alt="notime14" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLQmpzbsI/AAAAAAAACa0/qboIjprfgzU/notime14_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="291" height="222" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLRto5YnI/AAAAAAAACa4/-kATrTVQYgU/s1600-h/notime126.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime12" border="0" alt="notime12" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLRyZX8yI/AAAAAAAACa8/imtZ0qpVlkA/notime12_thumb4.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" height="217" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>So, this got me to thinking.</p> <p>That’s right….I need to fucking slow down!!  I need to try to enjoy the “little things”.  Like these….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLS-S2vxI/AAAAAAAACbA/eUpXU1TZrhQ/s1600-h/notime34.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime3" border="0" alt="notime3" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLTL9P-VI/AAAAAAAACbE/D-dK8YIEulQ/notime3_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="246" height="186" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Flowers from my spouse, delivered to my work place, on Valentine’s Day.</p> <p>Sweet!! </p> <p>I barely had time to enjoy them.  (Part of this was because they died really fast which pissed of the spouse who then called to complain because he said he felt like a complete ass….ohhh, the joys of being a proud man….)</p> <p>Anydeadflower…..I was ok with this.  It was the thought that counted in my eyes.</p> <p>But I got to thinking….they say…”take time to smell the roses”, right?  Well, mine died, quickly.</p> <p>So…what next??  </p> <p> <strong>Take time to squeeze the damn oranges, THAT’S WHAT!!</strong></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLT-ohOfI/AAAAAAAACbI/bve_Tdq1kMM/s1600-h/notime96.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime9" border="0" alt="notime9" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLUcmUxPI/AAAAAAAACbM/98_5jBTWy7U/notime9_thumb4.jpg?imgmax=800" width="303" height="231" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><strong></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong>And take time to RELAX!!</strong></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLVOAkJuI/AAAAAAAACbQ/idQ2DUaSbY0/s1600-h/notime14%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime1" border="0" alt="notime1" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLVmdsmdI/AAAAAAAACbU/yG1Ua9QgSSM/notime1_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="246" height="186" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Because no matter how crazy each day is, and how many things happen to put you behind….you are where you are at any given moment because THAT is where you are supposed to be.  </p> <p>As I drove to work the one morning last week, in a rush of course….I saw THIS….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLWM_0JvI/AAAAAAAACbY/zpi84CATmKE/s1600-h/notime45.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime4" border="0" alt="notime4" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLWYt_k_I/AAAAAAAACbc/ki9ue2NBwjw/notime4_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="298" height="223" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="4"><strong><em>A Winter Rainbow. </em></strong></font></p> <p align="center">Awesome!!</p> <p align="left">And I KNEW I was where I was supposed to be…even though I was running late because of the two short people and the teen.  All was ok because this, to me, was a sign.  If I was on time (fat chance)…I would have missed the rainbow, right?</p> <p align="left">I KNOW things get crazy around here, and I KNOW it’s the choices I’ve made that have made my life quite hectic….but I also KNOW….one day….I will miss all of this chaos.  I will miss the late nights, the early mornings, the rushing around….I KNOW I WILL…</p> <p align="left">…..and so will you.  So….enjoy what you have now…..because….</p> <p align="left">….You’re gonna miss this….</p> <p align="left"> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px auto; padding-left: 0px; width: 389px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:2d49af0b-6096-45b7-9087-d49e373af33e" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="f493bc29-f31f-4df3-93f0-89bf0247f715" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBDN8yWyNYU&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLWy7UV-I/AAAAAAAACbg/PqEuTjRRAX4/video3d73ed1bfe33%5B6%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('f493bc29-f31f-4df3-93f0-89bf0247f715'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"389\" height=\"291\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/lBDN8yWyNYU&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/lBDN8yWyNYU&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"389\" height=\"291\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">Live each day as if it were your last.</p> <p align="left">Take the time to smell the roses.  (Sometimes they don’t last a week as guaranteed!)</p> <p align="left">Slow down and enjoy the rainbows…</p> <p align="left">…Most of all, take the time to taste and squeeze all the fresh oranges you can!!  </p> <p align="left"> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLXnr6-PI/AAAAAAAACbk/6yBLOzth7-U/s1600-h/notime115.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="notime11" border="0" alt="notime11" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TWGLXyqtkpI/AAAAAAAACbo/gfFnB8zz2os/notime11_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="227" /></a></p> <p></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#800080" size="5"><strong><em>Happy Sunday!!</em></strong></font></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-65273646436558967172011-02-04T18:53:00.001-08:002011-02-04T18:53:06.122-08:00I Confess<p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>Link on up with <font color="#004000" size="3"><a href="http://www.glamazonmom.com/2011/02/friday-confessional-special-edition.html">Glamazon</a></font> and<font color="#004000" size="3"> <a href="http://www.ourdandelionwishes.com/">Mamarazzi</a></font> for Friday Confessional…seriously…you must….</strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://www.ourdandelionwishes.com/2011/02/friday-confessional.html"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="FridayConfessionalButton-1" border="0" alt="FridayConfessionalButton-1" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7cBnjseI/AAAAAAAACZo/gzZpLRuko_s/FridayConfessionalButton-1%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="222" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess that I’m feeling like I’ve been driving a piece of shit junk vehicle for a while now.  The odd thing is, it’s a 2006 Chevy Equinox.  THAT should not be in the same category as “shit junk”, should it?</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess that after the kazillionth time I was told my headlight was out, or that one of my brake lights were out, I laughed in the poor guys face.  Bwaaaahhhahahahahahahaha!  Fuck YOU,<em> <font color="#0000ff">Mr. Officer!!</font></em>    Seriously…I’m tired of <font size="4"><em>THIS</em></font> light or <font size="4"><em>THAT</em></font> light being burned out!  What the hell?? </strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess that when I was having to open my car door about 7 or so inches in order for my window to go down…yeah, I was pissed at first, but then I got used to it.  And so did every drive-through window attendee I frequently visited each day.  </strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess that if there weren’t any drive thru windows, I wouldn’t get SHIT done, ever!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>And I wouldn’t smoke.</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>And I wouldn’t be addicted to White Chocolate Mochas from Caribou Coffee.</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess that last week when I actually got OUT of my car and WALKED into Caribou for my mocha, the first thing I heard was, “Terry!!…..”  (Yes, they know me by name…)  Randi (Yes, I know HER by name..) said, “Terry!!  You have legs!!” </strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>You see…I’m a lazy-ass, I confess.  Ok, maybe it’s not being lazy, but it’s knowing how to get shit done quicker than evah.  You see, I can leave the house, get a mocha at the drive thru, drive on down the road for my smokes thru the gas station drive thru, and then…oh yeah….go on over to Walgreens to the pharmacy drive thru and pick up my sanity pills!!  Awesome!  If I had to go into each of these places, that would take me twice as long!!  (AND I would need MORE medication!)</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>So…when the spouse took my vehicle up to the store the other day and then came in and said, “Do you know that <em><font color="#ff0080">nothing</font></em> works on that side of your car?”  <em><font color="#8000ff" size="4">Nothing</font></em> as in not just the <font size="3">window</font>, but the <font size="3">speaker </font>and the <font size="3">mirror….</font></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I shrugged it off.  After all, I’d been telling him about my window for over a week now.</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess that the next day when I got in my vehicle and drove to Caribou only to find out that my window wouldn’t even go down when I opened the door the required 7 or so inches….I fucking freaked!!  What the fuck, Spouse???  YOU get in my vehicle ONE time and now the window won’t go down AT ALL??  Seriously??  </strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>AND to top it off, I had an hour or so ride to my work place where I am in training to be the best Restorative Nurse in the whole wide world….</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>Fuck!!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>Couldn’t smoke because MY window didn’t go down.  I tried to smoke with the passenger side down and that just didn’t go well.  I confess I tried to blow the smoke out that way, and I tried to flick the ashes in the top of a water bottle….That was just was too confusing to me, and driving on a freeway that I normally don’t drive on…well….yeah, that sucked big time.</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess, this week has been a nightmare…</strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7dB7461I/AAAAAAAACZs/VTSbfUDC8PY/s1600-h/drivethru3%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="drivethru3" border="0" alt="drivethru3" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7dWtJfaI/AAAAAAAACZw/ggbsbbo2Hj0/drivethru3_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><font color="#ff0000"><strong> McDonald’s for the kiddos….</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7eNock8I/AAAAAAAACZ0/mMTfhKTo7gA/s1600-h/drivethru1%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="drivethru1" border="0" alt="drivethru1" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7elHA63I/AAAAAAAACZ4/l3Wx-IKi_bo/drivethru1_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><font color="#0000ff"><strong>Smoke break…</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7fVIs6bI/AAAAAAAACZ8/ppmadyB3SPc/s1600-h/drivethru5%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="drivethru5" border="0" alt="drivethru5" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7fyS6Y2I/AAAAAAAACaA/FaGSwJJ-QNU/drivethru5_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><font color="#400000"><strong>White Mocha Time!!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7gfipdDI/AAAAAAAACaE/3u1359KNH3s/s1600-h/drivethru7%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="drivethru7" border="0" alt="drivethru7" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7g_ugjII/AAAAAAAACaI/Hx5-g0GbbrM/drivethru7_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><font color="#400000"><strong> Gas Station Drive Thru….</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7hryJmoI/AAAAAAAACaM/zXbLPVlXmdQ/s1600-h/drivethru10%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="drivethru10" border="0" alt="drivethru10" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7h3COuOI/AAAAAAAACaQ/ydwT1hp-omQ/drivethru10_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><font color="#400000"><strong> ATM…needed cash!!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess…it sort of started pissing me off…big time….so I tried to PULL down the window from the inside….</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7ivielrI/AAAAAAAACaU/RtytcITu-3Y/s1600-h/drivethru9%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="drivethru9" border="0" alt="drivethru9" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7jEtOOEI/AAAAAAAACaY/sw2o1MAzIBQ/drivethru9_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a>   </p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>No success….</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>And again from the outside…</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7j2rG5LI/AAAAAAAACac/NujzferRkWU/s1600-h/drivethru8%5B7%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="drivethru8" border="0" alt="drivethru8" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUy7kXf_k6I/AAAAAAAACag/kGomxYHPZQM/drivethru8_thumb%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"> <font color="#800080"><strong>Fucking window….</strong></font></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess…I really REALLY am not liking my Equinox….shhhhh….don’t tell her or God knows what kinda shit she’ll pull next!!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess…</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>With each drive-thru place I went to, I made SURE they knew my spouse FIXED my window….</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>…and THAT was why I had to <font color="#ff0000" size="4">open</font> my door.</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>Sorry, Mr. Sake!!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#400000"><strong>I confess, despite my Spouse’s <strike>ability to make my week a living hell</strike> “quirks”, I still love him!</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000">Mwah!!!</font></strong></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-21335727844029651482011-02-01T18:39:00.001-08:002011-02-01T18:39:26.401-08:00PINT…Sick AGAIN<p>Post it Note Tuesday with That One Mom over at <a href="http://www.onlyparentchronicles.com/">Only Parent Chronicles….</a></p> <p><a href="http://www.onlyparentchronicles.com/2011/02/pint-tired-mama-tuesday.html"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="PINTbutton3Reva" border="0" alt="PINTbutton3Reva" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDkwB30eI/AAAAAAAACWc/I2Ur0LkdpJk/PINTbutton3Reva%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="225" height="234" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDlSAkjbI/AAAAAAAACWg/FzXEXPU1vu4/s1600-h/superstickies149%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies149" border="0" alt="superstickies149" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDliz4i8I/AAAAAAAACWk/O_awV7Sb9mk/superstickies149_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDmFlz_3I/AAAAAAAACWo/dgl6n9Wp85Q/s1600-h/superstickies150%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies150" border="0" alt="superstickies150" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDmZErCbI/AAAAAAAACWs/FlF18RcWWbA/superstickies150_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDmixcdbI/AAAAAAAACWw/j58XEBPdLXc/s1600-h/superstickies151%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies151" border="0" alt="superstickies151" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDnAcLOAI/AAAAAAAACW0/21poI_RD8l0/superstickies151_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDn-_QFzI/AAAAAAAACW4/e-6fhcCxSY8/s1600-h/superstickies152%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies152" border="0" alt="superstickies152" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDoF6GIAI/AAAAAAAACW8/doYXbJWIfyU/superstickies152_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDorIdF9I/AAAAAAAACXA/_vDGDN8C9sk/s1600-h/superstickies153%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies153" border="0" alt="superstickies153" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDo9N7v9I/AAAAAAAACXE/wd3lyWgSnJk/superstickies153_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDpUCMdlI/AAAAAAAACXI/otiw8-rNpnQ/s1600-h/superstickies154%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies154" border="0" alt="superstickies154" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDp_luowI/AAAAAAAACXM/IUdoSfOsse4/superstickies154_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDqaJgkAI/AAAAAAAACXQ/06dzEQKlEUI/s1600-h/superstickies157%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies157" border="0" alt="superstickies157" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDqvBN1JI/AAAAAAAACXU/PJe7k601bKU/superstickies157_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDq9RAFHI/AAAAAAAACXY/5HLLb0zjWIU/s1600-h/superstickies158%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies158" border="0" alt="superstickies158" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDrW6t-FI/AAAAAAAACXc/_-U4LvByvhU/superstickies158_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDrsyUmgI/AAAAAAAACXg/RPqEYNGr55U/s1600-h/superstickies159%5B5%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies159" border="0" alt="superstickies159" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDsHGbvXI/AAAAAAAACXk/W890ZIv5nDc/superstickies159_thumb%5B3%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDsbInAwI/AAAAAAAACXo/l0xU5LzBrlE/s1600-h/superstickies160%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies160" border="0" alt="superstickies160" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDssZhRPI/AAAAAAAACXs/ZmQtsCbgO8Y/superstickies160_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDtI0CCfI/AAAAAAAACXw/0IyNtPIdBqE/s1600-h/Cooper%20bug%20bite%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Cooper bug bite" border="0" alt="Cooper bug bite" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDtrmoP7I/AAAAAAAACX0/R6iCedNftAQ/Cooper%20bug%20bite_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="140" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDt99dKEI/AAAAAAAACX4/laD8fh9L9nU/s1600-h/superstickies161%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies161" border="0" alt="superstickies161" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDuDqkTFI/AAAAAAAACX8/B_t29u1NMFc/superstickies161_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDudy_AhI/AAAAAAAACYA/L0E1MASJKxA/s1600-h/superstickies162%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies162" border="0" alt="superstickies162" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDu22qyoI/AAAAAAAACYE/aiAbggjNdRI/superstickies162_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="ear1" border="0" alt="ear1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBm7G4yMh_0QW48g-JDpK4-opln0lcZXPq561DO2E-v6c2ox2DtJ3m84QLMw8M8Pf57w9Z3EuXT62857Als9Agn9f698bG6vubKve0GlfQOwBXg4ufEtGVDBoZpuNYfEp8O3pbCSt2x8za/?imgmax=800" width="135" height="176" /></p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDvcnRafI/AAAAAAAACYM/p7ELxei6uTI/s1600-h/superstickies163%5B5%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies163" border="0" alt="superstickies163" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDvhWjlFI/AAAAAAAACYQ/E6sDhLiFcj4/superstickies163_thumb%5B3%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDwbYAEkI/AAAAAAAACYU/YN7XVupok1g/s1600-h/parotid-fig1%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="parotid-fig1" border="0" alt="parotid-fig1" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDwo747HI/AAAAAAAACYY/3oyf09qOLIA/parotid-fig1_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="187" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDxMP65WI/AAAAAAAACYc/ZWcQEbC6qzc/s1600-h/superstickies164%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies164" border="0" alt="superstickies164" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDxQ7yoKI/AAAAAAAACYg/AaGE0nqQVFQ/superstickies164_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDxu_gPGI/AAAAAAAACYk/DdU6spgD7IQ/s1600-h/superstickies165%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies165" border="0" alt="superstickies165" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDyCtlClI/AAAAAAAACYo/r6zMNf_JGEE/superstickies165_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDyUU9xMI/AAAAAAAACYs/edO5wArnCEk/s1600-h/superstickies166%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies166" border="0" alt="superstickies166" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDywnifhI/AAAAAAAACYw/lNQW8-i5E88/superstickies166_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDzQq_edI/AAAAAAAACY0/MwEtOybgeFA/s1600-h/superstickies167%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies167" border="0" alt="superstickies167" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDzg3a1PI/AAAAAAAACY4/cORhkNIP1NA/superstickies167_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjDz6BuNrI/AAAAAAAACY8/r0zxyJqMJ1s/s1600-h/surgery%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="surgery" border="0" alt="surgery" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB86Ak4XEQHHGuISzv7HQqxQQhD7RloEPJw6WUfgpsBzR81xqwbhl3ozqxTrzaXnFkU6495OinvSEJFZ2tysSn4PFEPuATpPqe7UOyOf0GGRG94Cq8B2Z4tvLJZOHRwHhYYTCYYjkZqnCE/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="156" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjD0rwXqZI/AAAAAAAACZE/9eaXQPWhqNg/s1600-h/superstickies168%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies168" border="0" alt="superstickies168" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjD1J4vhMI/AAAAAAAACZI/Ozjy9Fc1mKU/superstickies168_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjD1VExK6I/AAAAAAAACZM/qk9fL46DQTY/s1600-h/superstickies169%5B4%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="superstickies169" border="0" alt="superstickies169" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjD1hIDHUI/AAAAAAAACZQ/difWOQt3HQQ/superstickies169_thumb%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="223" height="212" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjD2XWNxZI/AAAAAAAACZU/t0RWrmzP7-Q/s1600-h/winepills%5B3%5D.png"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="winepills" border="0" alt="winepills" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUjD3WG831I/AAAAAAAACZY/pMR2-aNKrOk/winepills_thumb%5B3%5D.png?imgmax=800" width="272" height="183" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#8000ff" size="6"><strong><em>It’s a DATE!!</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#8000ff" size="6"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#8000ff" size="6"> </font></em></strong></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-84511999716882490152011-01-26T05:32:00.001-08:002011-01-26T05:32:07.974-08:00Smart Dog?<p align="center"><strong>For the life of me I cannot comprehend why more people don’t participate in What The Hell Wednesday with the girls over at the </strong><a href="http://bluemonkeybutt.com/home/"><font color="#004000"><em><strong>Blue Monkey Butt</strong></em></font></a><strong><font color="#004000"><em>.</em></font>  Seriously….what the hell??  It’s fun.  It’s simple.  And for Pete’s Sake you know you say “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!!??” at least 3 times a day, so link up!  Enjoy!</strong></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://bluemonkeybutt.com/home/2011/01/26/what-the-hell-wednesday-ill-have-some-sausage-with-my-valium/comment-page-1/#comment-7559"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="3988295973_2650b2eed0_m" border="0" alt="3988295973_2650b2eed0_m" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiQfV-ZhI/AAAAAAAACVg/nh8bwzm-qCQ/3988295973_2650b2eed0_m%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><strong>So…something weird has been going on.  </strong></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiRCQCSgI/AAAAAAAACVk/X8K-5Bu7Q4c/s1600-h/Mine%21%20104%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Mine! 104" border="0" alt="Mine! 104" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiRRJIGMI/AAAAAAAACVo/EchPiq-3R_M/Mine%21%20104_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="283" height="216" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><strong>My dog….the sweet 7 month old Golden Retriever….believes something is in our wall….the wall in the hallway.  She can’t walk past this wall without stopping and listening.</strong></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGuC2QI1gubRjmHKQ-hlJh4PHTfjsvdSIZHje_mqaqA38MWLzLgiBOXjTZnB7CiKUoTEOY8Eit6VUAR2XDtisc1nHclhW6BwPpmZNMbEzxxGnSdlehS8PhRLB_IUopglW_TUziMpP2jYgU/s1600-h/Caliwall%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Caliwall" border="0" alt="Caliwall" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiScBxlkI/AAAAAAAACVw/mSSnFsPuUcw/Caliwall_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="247" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><strong>What the hell?  Pretty freakin scary if you ask me.   </strong></p> <p align="center"><strong>I’ve listened to the wall.  I’ve listened again.  Not sure if I hear anything or not.  Well, the one time I was listening I got the shit scared out of me because my daughter went on the other side and did a little “knock-knock”…thinking she was being funny. <font color="#800080" size="3"><em> What the hell, kid??</em></font>  Are you out of your fucking mind?  I’m no spring chicken here and besides, I’m the one that feeds your skinny ass!!</strong></p> <p align="center"><strong>The thing that concerns me is that if it is a mouse….no big deal….it wouldn’t be staying in one place in the wall, correct?  It would move around.  But Cali always goes to the same spot…and stares….and digs….and goes absolutely bonkers.</strong></p> <p align="center"><strong>So…is it BIGGER than a mouse?  BIGGER than a breadbox??  BIG enough that it’s fat ass got STUCK in my WALL???  Shit…</strong></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiSl_9g-I/AAAAAAAACV0/vGOCSAauBwI/s1600-h/rat%5B7%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="rat" border="0" alt="rat" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiTDGpLoI/AAAAAAAACV4/2gnr5y1Osy0/rat_thumb%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="216" height="233" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#008000" size="7"><strong>?</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#008000" size="7"></font></strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiTSd_wrI/AAAAAAAACV8/aGkjtTa2Gdg/s1600-h/squirrel%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="squirrel" border="0" alt="squirrel" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiTwxnN-I/AAAAAAAACWA/OQkOwgEWPqA/squirrel_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="252" height="272" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#800080" size="7"><strong>??</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#800080" size="7"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#800080" size="7"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#800080" size="7"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#800080" size="7"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#800080" size="7"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><font color="#0080c0" size="3"><strong>Or…God Forbid…</strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#0080c0" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#0080c0" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#0080c0" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#0080c0" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiUIXqCcI/AAAAAAAACWE/K4OcoxQfIcw/s1600-h/fat%20cow%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="fat cow" border="0" alt="fat cow" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiUspafoI/AAAAAAAACWI/GVGJH1MI4Ak/fat%20cow_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="241" height="267" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em></em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em></em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em>What The Hell???</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="4"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000">(I’ve never seen a cow that fat….)</font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="4"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="left"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3">So, needless to say, I’m a little concerned, as I should be…..</font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="left"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="left"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px auto; padding-left: 0px; width: 387px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:db29788b-48f1-440c-913a-2f4fb1dd962e" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="5a80c1bb-8be9-442c-9897-232cd102d387" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRoCfmKpw50" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiU8RGs4I/AAAAAAAACWM/tK_mtqIUjj8/videocc8acbe09430%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('5a80c1bb-8be9-442c-9897-232cd102d387'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"387\" height=\"324\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/NRoCfmKpw50&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/NRoCfmKpw50&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"387\" height=\"324\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p align="left"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="left"><strong><font color="#400000" size="3"></font></strong></p> <p align="left"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="4"></font></em></strong></p> <p align="left"><strong><em><font color="#ff0000" size="4"> </font></em></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong>If it turns out that Cali is right, and something IS living in my wall…</strong></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><strong></strong></p> <p align="center"><strong></strong></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiVcNRBfI/AAAAAAAACWQ/kINFuiW_NaU/s1600-h/home-for-sale-sign%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="home-for-sale-sign" border="0" alt="home-for-sale-sign" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TUAiVw1TUyI/AAAAAAAACWU/60oW28BqyoI/home-for-sale-sign_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="175" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><strong>Enough said.</strong></p> <p align="center"><strong>The Bug-Guy….well, in this case, the Fat-Ass Rodent Guy, will be here Friday.  I’ll keep you posted!!</strong></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-10208837597253327802011-01-22T18:27:00.001-08:002011-01-22T18:27:20.116-08:00Seriously?? ONE Pound??<p>I am so on a roll.  I tell you…I totally ROCK!  </p> <p>Not.</p> <p>I started a diet that I’ve stuck to for 2 weeks….Yes!!  2 WHOLE WEEKS!!  Until this evening….</p> <p>I get up in the mornings.  I have my coffee.  I’ve been certain to eat a breakfast of some sort even including a half cup of skim milk.  Why skim milk?  Because THEY said it’s important.  Then I follow that with either veggie sausage and an egg (cooked in Pam…not butter) or cottage cheese with fruit (one of those Cottage Doubles).  I also have a fruit cup (not in syrup…maybe in light syrup but mostly sugar free.)  I can’t even believe I’ve done this for 2 WHOLE weeks!!</p> <p>For lunch the first week I basically fucked up.  Yep…I brought celery and peanut butter every day thinking that the peanut butter would be my protein source.  Why protein?  Because THEY say protein is important.  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54ZdiuadNHwWa0dcuAHCey61w88KxgOK_T6jkvvtEDecB2dzUHjLwgI46kq6x6_N6Adum3QXOpEcuSb7YTejt1OS9jImYZlpsLU1ChhkMcLgAPx7n0-o7KTb06wS8yyB_bNrFij-JKpdR/s1600-h/protein%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="protein" border="0" alt="protein" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuR-RaDStI/AAAAAAAACU4/4sA18nLPXTk/protein_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="309" height="207" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Then I realized that I was taking way too much peanut butter but by the time I realized this I was already addicted, so I needed to go cold turkey.  Skip the peanut butter and add Laughing Cow Blue Cheese flavor to have with my celery.  I also bring 2-3 rice cakes, a granola bar and a fruit cup.  Nice, huh??  I should be shedding those pounds daily, don’t you think??</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuR-walNeI/AAAAAAAACU8/Hdd-ubdgwJw/s1600-h/helpscale%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="helpscale" border="0" alt="helpscale" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuR_ZrP78I/AAAAAAAACVA/t0eRQVqvFYg/helpscale_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="215" height="146" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Yes, I haven’t been able to give up my White Chocolate Mochas, but, mind you, I have them made with skim milk and NO WHIP so that should count for some sort of will-power, right??  (And possibly my “milk” consumption for the day)</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuR_vpykgI/AAAAAAAACVE/Tpi92tcrS_M/s1600-h/cariboumilk%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="cariboumilk" border="0" alt="cariboumilk" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuR_0WXxTI/AAAAAAAACVI/VyiNQQjo0VM/cariboumilk_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="198" height="240" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>For dinner I’ve been having cauliflower and tomatoes sauteed with garlic and olive oil….or I have mushrooms stuffed with different flavors of Laughing Cow Cheese…awesome!!  You should try them!  If you are doing the Weight Watchers points, these little delights are barely nuthin!!  A few times I had some baked chicken…</p> <p>I’ve had popcorn for a snack.  I’ve been drinking water and tons of it because at  my new place of employment there seems to be an issue of very dry air, and along with my lips being so dry they are cracking and my nose being so dry it’s bleeding, I walk around feeling quite dehydrated, so I DRINK TONS OF WATER at work.  I’m wondering where it all goes since I really don’t get a chance to pee….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuSAGr2zNI/AAAAAAAACVM/HPFrqaO4oG0/s1600-h/water%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="water" border="0" alt="water" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuSArm6L_I/AAAAAAAACVQ/amI1qrcqgEc/water_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="291" height="270" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font color="#0000ff" size="3"><strong>(Oh come on…that’s not ME….look at her waist!!)</strong></font></p> <p> </p> <p>I slipped up one evening and had McDonald’s with the family, but I didn’t eat the whole snack wrap and fries, just half.  </p> <p>I also exercised for 30 minutes…once…but I’m just getting started.</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvlLRVX__CVbZc3tOfEao5CeEZBE23dLTuxJlM18AIJe4SAqSwUnnCGk6BJgB06Xr1F83-99-O1bpUsIS2AnbNB7OgCXXcTTza-v_Ih7Zsolpzd60JmbQv9Z0R-hnHZlZBTRvUHrhwiWlA/s1600-h/sweat%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="sweat" border="0" alt="sweat" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuSBQSI-WI/AAAAAAAACVY/fgXXyCWb2OY/sweat_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="185" height="240" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>I’m thinking of trying a new exercise routine next week…might be worth it….ya never know…another weight loss goal could be attained!!</p> <p> </p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px auto; padding-left: 0px; width: 379px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:5ec3045b-44d9-4961-9c04-87f2ef76ba0f" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="10fd073c-5b96-4644-b725-915df03690ec" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJer8fcochE&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_new"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTuSByCLRAI/AAAAAAAACVc/BSGpdlhWN8E/video863a71c2f958%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('10fd073c-5b96-4644-b725-915df03690ec'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"379\" height=\"284\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/SJer8fcochE&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/SJer8fcochE&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"379\" height=\"284\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> <p> </p> <p>So, tell me….and tell it to my face….why the FUCK have I only lost <font color="#ff0000" size="3"><strong><em>one damn pound???</em></strong></font>  Is there some conspiracy against me?  What have I done to deserve this?</p> <p>I kid you not, I AM TRYING!!  </p> <p>Now I am so fucking frustrated that today I decided I am on a “break”.  A poptart for breakfast, skipped lunch because I had a Mocha….then I just ate 5 Cajun chicken wings and 1 slice of spinac-artichoke pizza for dinner followed by a little tasty treat called a “s’more” made by this new little pizza joint near my house….</p> <p>Yep…I ate all that junk, and now I’m pissed.</p> <p>Do you ever do this?  Try try try only to get discouraged and go off the diet thinking you will start fresh on Monday??  </p> <p>Why?</p> <p>Why do we do this to ourselves??</p> <p>Call it human nature, call it lack of will power…or call it fucking <font color="#8000ff" size="3"><strong><em>PMS</em></strong></font> for all I care!!  It sucks!</p> <p>Anyone got any suggestions on how to kick start this weight loss already????</p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4481754834303650717.post-54500835301095343882011-01-17T17:28:00.001-08:002011-01-17T17:28:23.732-08:00I’m Still Here!<p>Wow…how long has it been, my friends??  Seems like forever since I blogged, but if you recall, I started my new job.  You know the one….I mentioned it <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2011/01/confess-and-move-on.html">HERE</a> …. and I talked about leaving my old job <a href="http://oh4petesake.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-new-year.html">HERE.</a>  </p> <p>So, when I interviewed for the new job, I had an <em><font color="#008000" size="3"><strong>IDEA </strong></font></em>of what I would be doing.  You know the drill for a Restorative Nurse….track the incontinence (this means keep tabs on the peeing people), track the <strong><font color="#8000ff">incidents</font></strong> (this means making sure <strong><em>NO-ONE</em></strong> and I mean <font color="#ff0000" size="3" face="GeoSlab703 XBd BT"><strong><em>NO. ONE.</em></strong></font>  falls on the floor!), and also writing programs for those residents that have graduated from physical therapy.</p> <p>Sounds easy enough, yes??  </p> <p>Ummm…</p> <p>…NO.</p> <p>I am busy as hell!  I get in there and I work from the moment my feet step over the thresh-hold of the 300 Unit until my over-worked feet step over that very same thresh-hold when my brain can no long comprehend even where my office is.</p> <p>Seriously.  From this:</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTsoGV29GI/AAAAAAAACUM/ibky9cr9S68/s1600-h/starting%20line%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="starting line" border="0" alt="starting line" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTsoYL0NCI/AAAAAAAACUQ/4jX8kSA5FHU/starting%20line_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="226" height="169" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>To this:</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTspDiFdUI/AAAAAAAACUU/foCe18B-KwA/s1600-h/marathon_runner%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="marathon_runner" border="0" alt="marathon_runner" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTsph4HSSI/AAAAAAAACUY/EfLCmY0b_Jg/marathon_runner_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="233" height="240" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>I’ve had <font color="#ff00ff" size="3"><strong><em>days</em></strong></font> of training.  I’ve been to <strong><em><font color="#8080ff">meeting </font></em></strong>upon <font color="#0080c0"><strong><em>meeting </em></strong></font>upon <font color="#0000ff" size="3"><strong><em>meeting!</em></strong></font>  I’ve been signed up for a seminar, I’ve been invited to a conference on “Falls”….</p> <p>My head is spinning with all the new information I’ve been handed.</p> <p>I want to get it right.  When those surveyors come in and request “information” from ME, I don’t want to look stupid.  I want to have the answers.  The one guy from corporate that came to train me some said that when the surveyors come in and ask “Who keeps track of the falls?”….</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTsqOmSKYI/AAAAAAAACUc/4yEPIpDLDFQ/s1600-h/finger-pointing%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="finger-pointing" border="0" alt="finger-pointing" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTsqrSjUpI/AAAAAAAACUg/UqBdfhue8Xc/finger-pointing_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="227" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>You got it….in your face, baby!  Well, in MY face, that is….</p> <p>You see, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be ultimately responsible for the outcome of these “incidents”.  </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTsrCepNRI/AAAAAAAACUk/vgJrI--5T8c/s1600-h/bush%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="bush" border="0" alt="bush" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTsr4j2IWI/AAAAAAAACUo/X5NJ5Msh0VI/bush_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="190" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>  It’s a little scary…but I can do this.  </p> <p><font color="#ff0000" size="4"><strong><em>I. GOT. THIS.  </em></strong></font></p> <p>On the other hand….my previous employer….not so much.  You see, when I was told they had my homecare patients “covered” so why not make that day my  last??  Yep….they were “covered” by my supervisor/the OWNER….Oh Yeah….Do you think she still has it “covered”????</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTssnOAr9I/AAAAAAAACUs/mdrouwNgZtQ/s1600-h/lolde%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="lolde" border="0" alt="lolde" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Ss-slWdwRnA/TTTstqOFr-I/AAAAAAAACUw/pQ7IOihAKGE/lolde_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="378" height="195" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>So, as much as I truly miss my little lovelies (homecare patients), I absolutely positively without a doubt am loving my new job!</p> <p>I love the challenge, that is for sure! </p> <p>How about you?  Do you love YOUR job??</p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06348850694822729179noreply@blogger.com6