Why You All Givin' Butterfly Kisses To My Ass Yo?

I failed my first glucose test and had to take the extra fun filled 3 hour test this week. Whee!! Not. I had to drink the syrupy goop once again but this time I had to stay and get my blood drawn every hour. Four times total! (They took one before I drank the goop.) I felt like young Hollywood walking out of there with needle marks all over my arm. THANKFULLY the test was done at the lab and NOT by Crispy Fried Ponytail. Although I did get the immense joy of talking to her on the phone regarding the results of my first glucose test. The conversation SHOULD HAVE gone like this:

'You failed your first glucose test, so please come into the office as soon as you can so that you can take the 3 hour glucose test at the lab.'

A 20 to 30 second conversation tops right? Unfortunately, Crispy Fried Ponytail was hitting the Vicodin bottle HARD that day and all that information took about an hour for her to get out. I actually put the phone down while she was struggling to put two sentences together to open a Jello cup for my daughter.

The good news though is I passed my 3 hour glucose test! So it doesn't look like I have gestational diabetes this time around. The bad news is I thought I was going to find out the sex of the baby this appointment but apparently the ONE ultrasound machine at the doctor's office is as busy as Tiger's 'golf club' because you have to make a separate appointment for that bitch. So I booked it for my next appointment in March.

Meanwhile I think the hormones kicked into overdrive this past month. So bad, that I truly marvel at myself for not having several shallow graves in my backyard for people who have annoyed me as of late. I'm surprisingly good at knowing when my hormones have pulled a Exorcist and taken over my body so I'm able to prevent an outburst of green vomit to come spewing out of my mouth and hide my feelings pretty well until it passes. (I just got annoyed with MYSELF because that last sentence was such a run-on. See? Even I am not immune to my hormones' wrath)

But now that I'm here in the cozy haven of my blog, let me regale you with tales of my psychotic hormonal thoughts.

Incident one: I was at the front of the school waiting for my daughter to get out when a lady walked up RIGHT BEHIND me with her little girl. They stopped and the lady crouched down to talk to her little girl which put her so close to my ass, if I had blown an air biscuit, her eyes would have watered. She then proceeded to have the most annoying conversation (or so my hormonal self made me feel like it was) with the little girl complete with a tone of voice that grated my nerves like a broken coffee cup scraping against cement. Not to mention the fact that she was using that Mr. Rogers "I'm talking slow and enunciating every other word because you're retarded" type of speak that some people tend to do around small children.

The conversation went something like this:

Woman: 'Okay so and so, we're going to do something new todaaay (broken cup, scrape cement, Mr. Rogers. Oy. My eyelids began twitching involuntarily) every daaay when I pick you up from school, I'm going to ask you how YOUR day went and theeen, you're going to ask ME how MY day went, okaaaay?'

Hormonal voice in my head: Are you fkin' kidding me right now? Are we actually giving directions on how to have a simple conversation? Um, let me tell you how this is going to end Mrs. Rogers, she's going to tell you about her day and she's not really going to give a rat's ass about your day. She's five! She doesn't care that you had a non-fat latte with no sugar and that Mary Fladoodle in HR was facebooking all day so you had to pick up the slack. Nope. Not at all. So please STFU, enjoy the drawing macaroni art she's trying to show you and stop making out with my leather cheerio, thank you.

I know. Harsh right? And mind you, logically I see what the woman was trying to establish with her child, a give and take thing so they can talk about each others day, teaching her to be genuinely concerned about others, I'm sure she was following the child rearing column from Good Housekeeping to a T. Any other day, this whole exchange wouldn't have bothered me at all. Her face giving butterfly kisses to my ass would have been uncomfortable sure but again, minus the pregnancy hormones, I think I would have found it kind of a pleasant.

But I can't help it, the hormonal voice comes and goes and when it comes, it's loud and I have to duck for cover. In this case, I took my ass away from her face, sat somewhere else and played Bejeweled on my phone until the rant subsided in my head. Although, I have to say, hormonal voice was right. That little girl was all about HER day and when her mom interrupted her and told her, 'well now you ask about MY day.' That little girl looked at her like, why the hell would I want to do that? And then continued on about her macaroni heart that she had made in class.

I was relieved because her macaroni art WAS pretty awesome.

I have several more tales but I'm going to stop right there because when I actually type it out, I feel bad for being such a grumpy snatch, even if it is beyond my control. I guess I'll rejoice in the fact that I haven't turned into Chucky and maimed someone with a butter knife .... yet.

Someone get the pregnant woman some Jamba Juice stat! (An original Orange Dream Machine please if you want to live.)

When Porta Potties Attack!

Lately I've been doing this one post a week bullshit on this blog that I'm not very happy with. I sometimes look at my archives and get amazed at my old blogging self. I used to post three times a week WITH a weekly Fan Letter Friday! But sometimes interesting blog topics (and all those high brow roast beef vagina jokes) soon hit a rough spot do they not? I usually use my real life experiences for inspiration but lately it's been about as inspiring as the packets of poison jelly they put in with your shoes when you buy them.

Okay, sidebar, really quickly: what the hell is that exactly? What's its purpose? And really, the do not eat warning on the label? It saddens me that it's on there because once upon a long time ago, there was probably an asshat who thought;
"Wait...what's this?...free candy with my shoes! This is the best day EVER!"
Believe me, if the jelly packets looked like mini Toblerones; I would still be hesitant to eat it, considering the fact that it has been in a box with a pair of shoes that may or may not have been taken on a test run by someone who has corn kernels for toe nails.

But I digress ...now where was I? Oh right..not having any inspiration to blog, I decided to turn to Google - the beast with all the answers and who probably has a satellite in space taking a picture of your house right now for Google Maps!! (Aren't those cool??...and kind of creepy and evasive at the same time...sorry. I'm babbling. I'm on a Fudgesicle high)

I found this handy dandy article that suggested ten topics to possibly blog about..

1. Write a book review: Hmmm, this list is off to a slow start. Well I can tell you that it took five years of my life reading the big bowl of bore soup that is Atonement. It is misleading as in there were so many rave reviews on the outside of the book and yet the inside of the book had the same affect on me as jazz. It's nice to listen to sure but eventually I'm going to fall asleep and drool on myself. I'm wondering if I should waste my time on the movie. Keira Knightly is in it, so I guess if I get bored I can always look at her protruding clavicles and wonder how she manages to stay alive on a diet of tic tacs and cigs.

2. Review a product: Oookaay. Um. Malt vinegar is good on EVERYTHING. Including toast. Don't argue with me. And um, onions suck and don't say, 'Oh I'm going to dice them up real small so you won't even notice." Because dammit I notice. I ALWAYS notice the slimy little buggers from the time they enter my mouth to the minute I spit them across the room.

3. Explain something about your subject that might be confusing to newbies: Okay Twitter. Well it's like a FB status update, actually...it is a status update and nothing more than that. Well...no..no..no, let me take that back, its a little more in depth than a status update but shorter than a blog. You basically just say what you're doing. And if you follow people you can get their tweet and see what they're doing, but if they don't follow you, they won't see what you tweet about unless you respond to something they specifically said, and if someone is following you and you don't follow them, then they can twat all the live long day about.....you know what? never mind. Twitter and every other social networking site out there is just another shiny ball put in our face so we can be distracted and not see how the government steals our rights slowly and big banks steal our money. (And yet, oh lookee over there to the side bar. Is that a tweet thread from yours truly??? yes it is. Hey! I didn't say I was immune to the shiny ball.)

4. Take a stand: I am taking a stand against those people that stand outside the grocery store entrance and harass you to donate my change, my money, my time, my signature, my underwear, my colon, whatever! when really, all I want is to get in and get a jar of Nutella without having to put on my 'ignore them by looking at the imaginary texts on my phone' act just so I can get past you. No I don't have fucking change! I use my debit card irresponsibly and all my change goes into the laundry machine because my condo doesn't come with a washer dryer plug! Are you happy now! I just want to get my damn Nutella for PMS' sake!

5. Take something that is controversial and tell how you feel about it. Just be careful to be respectful to both sides. You don’t want it to turn into a flame war. Besides, it is just more professional to state your opinion in a calm, objective way: Oh fuck that. I think Chris Brown should be in jail getting ass raped with a bar of Irish Spring.

6. Tell about some mistake that you made and what you learned from it: Taking three tequila shots and not waiting for it to kick in before taking three more was not a bright moment in my life.

7. Be different. Do something unexpected. State something which goes against popular opinion: I think my suggestion of malt vinegar on toast took care of that.

8. Run a poll. After it is done, discuss the results: Raise your hands if you think Anne Rice's vampires can kick Stephenie Meyer's metro vampires from Twilight? No contest! Oh and Twilight sucks. I don't understand the appeal. Nor do I understand the appeal of Robert Pattison. Poor man's Johnny Depp. Just sayin. Okay that wasn't really a poll...

9. Tell about a personal experience: One time, during a road trip to Missouri, I had to go to the bathroom really bad. Viking hubby pulled over to a side road with a line of porta-potties. I opened one porta-potty and what I saw in there was the size of Emmanuel Lewis and I'm pretty sure it was coming out to get me. I ended up peeing BEHIND the line of porta-potties and I've had some pretty bad nightmares about the Emmanufeces that attacked me that day.

10. Use humor: I'm sorry. I can't right now. I'm too traumatized by flashbacks of the giant poo that almost took my life and eerily resembled a diminutive child star of the 80's.

(Oh and I just remembered..the nightmare potty was in UTAH! What could they possibly be eating in Utah to create such a thing?!?)

Hold me.

Feeling Dirty Down Under. Used and abused by the Barrier Reef.

Australia decided to screw all the other candidates and offered me the job because I was so spectacularly fabulous they were BESIDE themselves! No one else compares they shrieked! Come oh short one, please work for us they begged! However, I respectfully declined because I think my skills are very much needed in Missouri.

I don't think I need to tell you that I'm making jokes through my tears.

First let me just say THANK YOU to everyone who voted for me, and for those who voted for me and then made themselves my campaign managers and passed it on. Thank you! Thank you! I felt so loved. I wanted to snuggle up under the covers with all of you but knowing the lot that reads me, that's just asking for a dutch oven.. but hey, it's the thought that counts.

Anyways...they chose the top 50 candidates this Monday and yours truly did not make the cut. Why? Because I'm not a t.v. journalist, a scientist, a charity fundraiser, an adventurer (IE: trust fund babies) or someone who's wrestled camels in Yemin and balanced on a dolphin's fin in Cabo San Lucas. In other words, I don't already have an awesome job so therefore I don't qualify for a chance to have yet another awesome job. And so it goes. Sigh.

Okay, I'm not bitter, really I'm not. After watching the videos of the 50 candidates, I KNOW why I wasn't picked. I was HIGHLY under qualified. HOWthefuckityfuckEVER. Why o' why perpetrate that this 'job' was up for grabs for "ANYONE." Those poor saps in Alaska were given a false sense of hope that maybe they could finally stop chomping on whale blubber and get a taste of the good (warm) life. And a poor little midget with one foot into Misery thought that maybe, just maybe, she could stay by the ocean just a little longer. Well actually, I know why, they wanted the press, they wanted me (and every other under qualified candidate) to tell you to go to their site in the guise of "voting for me." Oh the million hits they got! Tee hee. Oh yeah, laugh it up Australia, you done fooled me. You done made me feel durty down under. You held up the dream as bait, made me see "signs" and I bit.

In my opinion, if they truly are looking for people to come visit the Barrier Reef in Australia, I think they are making a big mistake in hiring a person who no one can relate to - well except other t.v. journalists, trust fund babies, scientists, and marine biologists, who are probably going to visit Australia ANYWAYS. So what's the point? I thought they were looking for an average ol' Joe (or Jane) to tell other average ol' Joe's and Jane's that Australia was the place to be. Put a familiar face to someplace unfamiliar right? Can I get a amen?

OR maybe, just maybe...there's a small chance that my video could have just sucked.
Naaaah. THAT can't be it. (psst ..I'm way too proud and self centered to admit that..shhhh.)

Again, I'm not bitter (I swear if I keep saying over and over again it'll be true) because out of the experience a 'new idea' popped into my head. With the help of my Flip digital camera and my stellar movie maker skillz, (by stellar I really mean click on stuff until I get it..) I'm making my own damn travel show. About San Diego. I'm leaving anyways - so this gives me a chance to really go out to different parts of San Diego and appreciate my surroundings before I am thrown into the middle of America where the only way I can view the ocean is through Google Earth.

And hell, I might continue my show in Missouri! - who doesn't want to see a Filipino midget slip and slide in cow poo at PJ's dairy farm? Wouldn't it be so funny if my little Youtube series got more hits than Australia's fancy schmancy oooh lookit me I'm a marine biologist who's built orphanages underwater and now I'm Australia's marketing bitch blog?

Ahhh there I go dreaming big again. Someone really needs to stage an intervention with my brain's grandtabulous ideas and dreams.

Stay tuned. I'm taping my first episode tomorrow in La Jolla, California. I'm going to a Japanese restaurant with my main gay Joey and oh the precious moments we will have! We shall talk about the food, get loopy on the drinks, observe (talk shit) to the La Jolla 'richy" scene and walk into stores where they will see us for the peasants that we are and get kicked out on our paycheck to paycheck livin asses!

Oh yeah, I'm really doing it.

Austraizzle, can suck on my nutsizzle.

But again, I'm not bitter.

A Bad Taste In My Mouth... And NO, I didn't kiss Star Jones.

The thing about a blog is that in the beginning it was meant to be somewhat private. A online journal for a few friends to peruse but then you go to other blogs and check them out, comment, they go to your blog, comment, you link each other, other bloggers see the link, comment on yours, you comment back and so on and so forth. I love to blog and I love reading other people's blogs but one of the big drawbacks of being sucked into the blogging portal is that your blog isn't so private anymore. You put on a little censorship screen when you write posts that you wouldn't have otherwise put up had your blog remained that little semi private journal that you intended it to be in the beginning.
Where exactly am I going with this you ask? Well dear reader, I want to vent about someone SO BAD it's hurting my hair. But alas....this blog isn't THAT private.....and there is a small, yet bigger than a breadbasket chance that someone else that I care about could read the blog and be hurt by my harsh, yet beautifully poetic, words. (HA!) I guess this is good, because as much as I like to wear my eyepatch, sneer at people and pretend to be hardcore, I'm usually a sickenly happy person in real life. Sometimes I have an out of body experience, watch myself skip along the world with my "lookit the bright side" attitude and my soul dry heaves. My soul secretly longs to start a new blog about how it wants to bitch slap the happy smirk off my face.
I'm just usually not a bitter or hateful person in general.

I'm saying all this so you can understand that when something (or in this case, SOMEONE) affects me bad enough to hurt my hair follicles, that it's usually warranted. That I DID TRY to give it a chance. That I DID TRY to look at the bright side. That I DID TRY to give someone the benefit of the doubt. That I DID TRY and think the whole time.."maybe it's just me."
I tried...but I have come to the conclusion that IT'S NOT ME.
IT'S YOU.

YOU pretentious, self rightous, preening, wanna-be, materialistic, fatass, piece of shit poseur,
I had a bad first impression,
I have a worst second impression,
I hope someone sees you for the shallow pool of belly cheese that you are.
Fuck You "Big Gay Al."



and to quote Forrest Gump,
"That's all I have to say about that..."

The end. My hair still kind of hurts though...

EDIT: Please note, I LOVE BIG GAY AL people. I really do......but believe me when I say that the resemblance and the clothing is UNCANNY. How about I call him a diseased, morbidly obese Bobby Trendy??..would that be better?




EDIT EDIT: WAIT WAIT WAIT. I just found a better picture of him online:



Tee hee.