Never A Dull Moment

So Thursday, Joey had an appointment with his orthopedist to follow up on his shoulder injury. About 4 years ago, he tore something and as a man would be known to do, self-medicated. Meaning Beer and sleep. It got better for a few years, but the last year he has been living in pain daily. So six months ago he finally saw a doctor and was started on cortisone shots and physical therapy. Neither really helped, so surgery was the next plan.

When he went Thursday, the doc performed some range of motion tests, and very flatly informed Joey that he was hours away from losing use of his arm. So, guess who woke up at 4am to drive him to the hospital yesterday?? Yours truly!

We were at the hospital by 4:45 and I didn't walk back in my house until close to 3PM. Thank GOD for my friend, Christie who stayed with the kids all day.

I tell ya, sitting at a county hospital all day is an eye opening experience. I saw prisoners in orange gowns being wheeled into surgery with hand and leg cuffs.

I sat next to a woman who explained that her husband had a little too much to drink the night before and decided to cut some crown molding in the garage. I learned that Pabst Blue Ribbon and Mitre saws don't mix well, as her husband was now missing his ENTIRE hand which rolled down the driveway and into some dirt.

I have been singing 'On Top Of Spaghetti' since she told me that story.

But, I think the BEST part of my time in the hospital was when a VERY drugged patient in the holding area broke free of her IV pole and ran into the waiting room. She spotted the tray of complimentary bagels on the table and started shoving them in her mouth like a rabid animal. It was at that point that the orderlies came running after her and in an attempt to control her, tackled her to the ground. This caused her flimsy hospital gown to open, exposing her very fat and very white ass for all the world to see. I think the entire population of the waiting room gasped in unison at the sight.

Joey came through the surgery fine and is now as high as a long haired hippy freak at a Phish concert.

He is pretty much sleeping non-stop, only waking to drink, take his vicodin and ask me to bring him things, like our cat that died last year.

As an added bonus, he is not allowed to shower until Friday, which makes me SO happy. Because, if there is anyone who loves washing hairy balls more than me, I dare you to find her.

Alive

Did you miss me?

After a few emails from curious readers, I decided to check in here. I could provide you with 100 excuses as to why I haven't written, but instead I will tell the truth.

I didn't think anyone was reading anymore. I KNOW my mom reads, but I talk to her 3 times a day, why should I have to write to HER? I KNOW Ginger reads, but, she already knows every good story I have to tell, so why bother?

I even got three random emails from unknown readers, asking my whereabouts, and I assumed they were from my mother and Ginger using fake email address. But- when I saw THIS posted on a message board, in regards to my location, I knew I had at LEAST 4 readers:

From the last blog we know that there is an injured finger. She got a massive raging infection in the finger from the ketchup while mistaking her finger for a french fry. The finger had to be amputated and she can't blog right now because she is in physical therapy learning how to use the bionic finger.

Ok. So I am a whiney little bitch. But, would YOU want to keep working if NO one appreciated you?

End rant.


I start my job in less than five weeks. FIVE WEEKS. I slept in my bed until 8:00 today, then dozed on the couch while the kids watched a video until 9:15. Five weeks from now, I will need to be showered, dressed and ready for a full day at 6:45.

This may not last long. I am good at cashing paychecks. Not so good at waking up early and spending my WHOLE day working. Damn Joey! Why couldn't you have gone for the PhD?!!

I am full of stories, and funny tidbits to share, but truth be told, my fingers feel weird today. I keep making typos and having to backspace. So, stories will be saved for another day.

I am going to see Hairspray tonight with Sara- isn't that interesting?

Now Accepting Applications

I know it's unlike me to post TWICE in one day, but I just HAD to share this.


It's official. I am now a card carrying member of the fat girl club. How do I know this to be true?

I took the kids to McDonald's for lunch today. Lauren was begging me to open her Hello Kitty toy, Anthony had the look of 'I'm about to barf' on his face and then started the quiet dry heaves. I, like the pig that I am, was shoving french fries in my mouth 3 or 4 at a time so we could make a quick exit.

Wouldn't you KNOW I BIT MY OWN FINGER! Imagine it. You are holding 4 fries in all five of your fingers, you drag them through the blob of ketchup infront of you and shove them in your open pie hole. OUCH! I bit my middle finger so hard that my nail is turning BLUE.

The scarlett letter of fat girls.

Cha Cha Cha Charmin

Ya know, there are some things in life that should be left alone. New and/or improved is not always better. The Coca-Cola Corporation learned this lesson the hard way back in the eighties when they decided to change the recipe for Coke. Public outcry, mob mentality, and complete global meltdown ensued. So, they changed it BACK to the OLD recipe. Why? Because Americans don't like to be messed with.

So, when I read THIS ARTICLE I was angered, but not shocked.

Go ahead, click the link. Read the article. I'll wait.



Damn! You are lazy! Ok, since I KNOW you didn't read it- here are the Cliff's notes.

There is a new invention! An automatic toilet paper dispenser. Much like the paper towel dispensers that are popping up in restrooms around the nation, a simple wave of your hand will push forth your allotted amount of toilet tissue. Five squares was determined to be adequate. FIVE SQUARES?

FIVE?

Did she just say FIVE?

Yes, she did. Five.

Ok. I admit it. Here and now, to the world at large. I am an over-wiper. Call me crazy, call me OCD. I like my butt to be clean. Porn scene clean. And I surely know from over 30 years of experience that I cannot achieve that zestfully clean feeling with only five squares.

MAYBE five squares would cut it after a small tinkle following a day of dehydration. But a Sunday morning after a night drinking and eating at Chili Carmen's Casa? Five would be adequate if you multiplied it by 100.

Surely a man concocted this facacta contraption. Under the guise of saving the environment and creating less waste. Let's face facts here- it is a way to save TIME and energy. Two things most men will gladly take more of.

I think somewhere in the Midwest, a man named Skeeter was sick of his wife complaining that she had to soak his BVD's in bleach to remove the tire tracks he left behind.

Skeeter devised this auto toilet paper dispenser as an EXCUSE. Now when his wife, Amber complains, he can say "Hey! I was only given five squares at the piggly wiggly crapper! Now get me another beer, bitch!"

Jesus F. Do NOT mess with MY toilet paper. I use Charmin Ultra. Nothing less will do. If I am unable to get to my home base in enough time, I WILL resort to using what is provided me, but you better believe that I will be wrapping my hand like a glove before proceeding with the business at hand. (Pun intended)

Interestingly enough, this is NOT the first time someone has tried to dictate to me how much toilet tissue I could use.

Year ago, I was working at very prestigious law firm in a multi-BILLION dollar high rise downtown. The Senior Partner was wealthy beyond his wildest dreams and married to the cheapest, most miserable woman I have ever known. This woman was a trophy wife if ever there was one, and had barely squeaked out a high school diploma when she was grabbed up by the man twenty years her senior.

To show her that she was more than a gorgeous body, he gave her the title of office manager. She was the laughing stock of the entire office, as she flitted around in her designer shoes and tried to tell room fulls of young associates to remember to leave their pens on the conference table when the meeting adjourned.

Well, one day, a MEMO came across our desks. As luck would have it, I am a pack rat, and still have that memo. Here it is:

To: All Partners,Associates,and Staff
From: CheapAss Bitch
Re: Toilet Tissue Usage

It has come to my attention that we are using an excessive amount of toilet tissue. XXX and I just purchased an 84 pack at Costco last month and it is almost gone already. Please be more aware of the amount of tissue you use and help us conserve costs and waste.

Thanks!
CrazyAssBitch


OH. MY. GOD. I almost swallowed my tongue when I read that. I remember turning to the woman I shared an office with and saying "Is this a JOKE??"

It wasn't. She was SERIOUS.

Now, I have been known to waste things. I will take more than I know I can eat at the buffet. I will grab a few extra napkins at McDonald's and I am the first to openly admit that I steal soap and shampoo from the attendant carts in hotels.

But toilet paper? That is something I do not use in excess of my current need. I don't achieve cleanliness and then flush gobs of paper down for sport. Nor do I stuff it in my purse to take home as a souvenir.

Well, as luck would would have it, my local newspaper had an editorial section. SOMEONE wrote a letter to said section and explained how this richer than God woman was rationing toilet paper to her firm employees. A copy of the memo was included with the letter. The newspaper PRINTED the letter, and the memo, with all identifying information blacked out. That certain someone ALSO let herself in to the office early the morning of the article and put a copy on the chair of every person in the office. Toilet paper usuage at the firm saw quite the increase that month. Someone even invented a game. It was called spin and win. An occupant of the restroom would spin the roll of toilet paper until the first square was touching the water in the bowl and then flush. The occupant would then count how long the roll unraveled before breaking off. My high score was 5 seconds; which was beat by many.

On my last day of employement with the firm, I sent an email to the whole staff. I informed them that oxygen consumption was now being monitored and to please conserve. And then, in a move that I still envy MYSELF for doing, I sent an email to the boss' wife letting her know that we noticed she had used her daily allottment of oxygen, and could she please hold her breath for the rest of the day.

What was she gonna do? FIRE ME?

Rumour has it, to this day, CheapAssBitch is still known as the Quilted Northern Nazi.

This weeks nomination for mother of the year goes to....

This fat crackhead who thought it would be FUNNY to give her 2 or 3 year old ECSTASY!

It's bad enough the poor child is half naked and not in a car seat, but she is obviously "rolling." To the untrained eye, she may appear to be kidding, but as someone who spent every Friday night of her teenage years at Flirts in West Palm, watching the rollers- that poor little girl is straight TRIPPING. Check out her eyes, that's why they call it Rolling!

I swear. Somebody PLEASE nominate me for President. PLEASE. I, along with my mother will solve ALL of the social issues affecting our Country. For starters, I would hunt these retards down, drag them into town square and sterilize them.

I think my favorite part of this story is that THE RADIO STATION they are listening to is CHRISTIAN ROCK!

I don't know about YOU, but I've never seen a JEW get their kid stoned. A little manischewitz wine, yes. Ecstasy no.

Maybe I am getting old? Would I have found this funny ten years ago?

Not bloody likely.

Seems each and every day I am forced to say this- I HATE PEOPLE.

Disnerds

Naked fat girl + No A/C + Leather Couch = Not a pretty sight. I didn't even KNOW it was possible for the backs of my knees to sweat! Lesson learned.

So there we sat last night, sticking to the leather couch, watching Macy's attempt to blow up Manhattan. Joey was oohing and aahing over every explosion. I was less amazed. In fact, fireworks are downright BORING to me. Joey could not understand this, fireworks are awesome, and to the average person, something they see once a year.

As usual, I am not average. I spent two summers after college working at the happiest place on earth- Disney World.

It truly was the best job I have ever and will ever have. It was fun, exciting, offered free admission for me and my family and best of all- having Disney on your resume is akin to having 'Magna Cum Laude- Harvard'- a deal closer if ever there was one.

Disney is notorious for being extremely picky in who they hire. And to be cast in a 'role' where one actually SPEAKS to the public? This high honor is only granted to those of us graced with physical beauty and top notch personalities! Luckly, I was blessed with both- so was cast as a tour guide for VIP's.

This job insisted I deliver 'smiles for miles' or as I put it- be terminally happy. I could only point with TWO fingers, never one. One finger pointed in any direction could lead someone to believe I was pointing at THEM.

In addition to my daily tours and providing guests with magical experiences they would never forget, one of my duties was 'Fireworks Fanatic!' Once night fell upon the world, I would act as a cheerleader to tired, broke families. I would run around and get them excited to watch us light up the skies. I handed stickers to children, flirted with old men, broke out into song over seeing a Minnie Mouse hat and acted like a first class looney toon.

I would estimate I have seen over 300 fireworks displays, and they lost their novelty somewhere in the mid 200's. I have watched parents navigating over sized strollers through a sea of people while trying to exit the park in order to stop their screaming children from going into cardiac arrest over the noise. I have seen a tree set on a fire from a wayward flame, watched in horror as Tinkerbell's zip line snapped and she fell 25 feet to the safety net below her.

I have seen parents so overcome with misery on the amount of money they have spent, that I have watched GROWN men in Mickey ears crying.

Happiest place on earth...my ass.

To cure my terminal happiness, I devised new and exciting ways to be the bitch I am at heart. While I could not openly be rude, lest I be hauled of to mouse jail and forced to listen to the plaster dolls sing 'It's a small world' for eternity; I COULD be a smart-ass, as most people check their brains at the airport before deplaning at Orlando Int'l Airport.

I kept a journal of my favorite Disney smart-ass remarks. Here, I will share some of them with you.

Guest : "Excuse me, what time is the three O'clock parade?"
Me: "4:15"

Guest: "Is there a midget inside of that costume?" ( Pointing to Stitch from Lilo and Stitch)
Me: " No, sir, that's a real alien!"

Guest: "Is there anywhere to eat here?"
Me: " No, I'm sorry, we only serve beverages"

Guest: " Are the bullets real on the Pirates ride?"
Me: "Some days yes, some days, no, depends on the mood of the engineers."

Guest: "Are the animals on the jungle ride real?"
Me: " They only come to life at night when we are all gone."

Guest: "Do you work here?"
Me: "Do you really think I would wear ORANGE pants if I wasn't PAID to?"

Guest: " Is Ariel a real person?" (Asked after watching a live stage show of The Little Mermaid)
Me: " Nope, she's an actual mermaid!"

Guest: "How many people are here today?"
Me: "I lost count when you started talking to me! Now I have to start over!"

And the REASON I hate FIREWORKS?????

Guest: "Where can I see the fireworks?"
Me: Silence. Silence. Slowly roll eyes toward sky and lift pointer finger up.

Dumb Disnerds.

99 In The Shade

Happy Independence Day!

I am penning this at 9:00PM- after spending part of the day at the neighbor's house, eating patriotic hot dogs and drinking patriotic Corona's.

We came home, hot from the sun, our bellies full, to a nice SAUNA.

Our good for nothing A/C was frozen over-AGAIN.

This is now the 3rd time since Memorial Day. And the unit is six months old!!

A call to the serviceman found him drunk and getting ready to blow his own hands off with cherry bombs and illegal fireworks he trafficked over state lines.

He'll be here at seven in the A.M.- or so he says. From the sound of the party going on down at his double wide, I am banking on 10.

So, I am naked, dripping sweat and as annoyed as Paris Hilton in a courtroom. Joey and I are fighting like cats and dogs, because we are HOT. Last I looked, the thermostat was saying it was a nice toasty 84 degrees in here.

84 may not sound hot. To those living in Phoenix, it's a downright freeze wave- but you must understand- I run my A/C 10 months a year, and on 69!

So, as I sit here, feeling like I am going to die, and wishing I just would- I wish you a happy Independence Day and Happy Birthday, America.

Cici

Holy MOTHER OF GOD!!

WHY ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Did I ever mention my next door neighbor and the construction fiasco?

Around February, my exact next door neighbor decided to ADD a level to his house. What followed was the closest I have EVER come to actually committing murder.

Between the porta-potty on the lawn, the endless construction workers, the smoking of said construction workers, language, dust, smell, sounds and the fact that EVERY truck that comes thinks it OKAY to park in front of MY HOUSE, I was OVER IT.

But, it finally ended yesterday. I heard the backing up beep of the truck and looked out my window to see the glorious site of the portable shed of shit being taken away. I even saw the Foreman pull the permit box off the lawn yesterday!

FINALLY! 5 months and it's OVER! My street is back to normal. No more questionable gentleman lurking around. My children will not hear the F bomb, unless it's uttered by me.

THEN.

It happened.

I awoke this morning to the familar sound of trucks. Surely I must be dreaming. Or hallucinating.

One glance out my front window proved I was wrong on both accounts. I was very much awake and very much gazing at a truck parked IN FRONT of my house with the words "Apple's remodeling" on the side.

WHAT THE HELL??

It would appear that in an effort to keep up with the Joneses..err...Simon's; my ACROSS the street neighbor's have decided THEY need a new level AND a pool too!

OH. MY. GOD.

Folks, I may not make it through this one without adding a felony or two to my otherwise clean criminal record.

I have MONTHS to look forward to my morning routine of going to get my newspaper while having "Hey Sexy Chica!" Yelled at me by assorted day laborer's. Leaving my house and wondering if it will still BE HERE when I get home, will continue.

But best of all, I get to enjoy the EYE candy that is a blue shack of CRAP every single time I look outside.

Kill me now. Please.