Mr. FunnyPants

I was in NOVA last week for work, and got invited to this team-outing thing at a driving range. I told BF about it on the phone...

Me: ...Yeah, and uhh, I went to a driving range a couple of years ago, I forget why now, and I couldn't hit one frickin' ball to save my life. I remember being very frustrated so this should be a hoot.

BF: Oh man, I wish I could be there to see this.

Me: Uh... why. So you can see me suck it?

BF: Yeah, I just imagine you ... well just not being good at it.

Me: Aw, thanks...

BF: I can just see it. You swinging and missing. Repeatedly.

Me: That's not nice.

BF: Well, I mean you aren't exactly athletic.

Me: ... and you are...? [Overly Defensive. I admit it]

BF: Or! Or! You swing and miss the ball and fall on your ass!

Me: ... yeah so, how was your day.

BF: If there's beer involved you gotta videotape this event.

Me: jackass.

BF: What?!? That shit is gonna be funny!

Then again...

It's hard to sit around all in pain when you've got this energy coursing through your veins. Also known as OXYGEN. Holy crap people, who knew this stuff was so good? At the same time, the pain seems to suck the energy right out of me. So, I haven't been working out as much as I should (I said "ish"!). And I want to. I want to so badly. But as soon as I start jumping around all uncoordinated in front my TV and waving my arms around, something pinches or a shooting pain goes this way or that...

and I say "oh f this" and go sit down.

My heart is in the right place at least, right?

Chiropractor seems to be slowly helping so, you know, the whining will ebb eventually. SWEAR.

In other news, our kitten, Molly, eats string cheese, Doritos, french fries, and whipped cream*. She will have nothing to do with chicken, tuna, or ham. This cat is me, reincarnated. Only I am still here. The other two are far more interested in the chicken, tuna, and ham so it works out.

*In addition to regular cat food, yes. God, what do you people take me for? Then again, we DID feed her string cheese, Doritos, French Fries, and whipped cream (not at the same time though! So there's that!), so I guess I am not the greatest pet owner in all the land. Shut up.

MAH SHOULDER HURTS. WAH.

So remember last year, when I was all, ZOMG CHIROPRACTOR MAN! I LUB YEW TO PIECES! I SHALL ERECT MANY STATUES AND SCULPTURES IN YOUR NAME BECAUSE YOU RULE AND YOU MADE IT ALL BETTER. I LOVE YOU ! Call me, k?

Well I moved to another state, and decided since I was feeling fine, I wouldn't bother finding another down here.

WELL GUESS WHAT.

I BET YOU CAN GUESS!

Yes! Shit is even worse now! I cringe when I turn my head to the left cuz I get a shooting pain on the right side of my neck, which makes driving a hoot. My right shoulder and neck are in a constant state of bunched up nerves, muscles, throbby, achey. I got shooting pains going down my right arm. Muscle spasms in the shoulder area randomly during the day. When I go to bed, my lower back spasms IN A PAINFUL WAY for 5 minutes when I first lie down. It's a big ol bag of OW in that area. When I described my back to kegofsunshine earlier today, I used the phrase "JACKED UP" cuz that seemed to be the only words to summarize it accurately.

(Aw, Drama Queen! How nice of you to visit!)

I've put off going for a couple of reasons:

1. AM. MORON
2. In an internal discussion area at work, some chick posted an article about how some lady got her back aligned by her chiropractor then later that evening? BOOM! stroke. So I got all twitchy about it.


3. $15 copay per visit. Knowing that the Dr. is going to want to see me 2 to 3 times a week for a while, it adds up. And I wanna buy shoes :(


4. What?


5. I lie. I havent bought new shoes in 3 months. so ha.


6. Though... it is summer now...

There are actual reasons in that list. I leave it to you to decipher.

So after several months of ignoring it, a handful of weeks of going "oh shit, it's back. wait shhhh maybe it'll go away," one WHOLE weekend on a heating pad, And dirty looks from BF, I gave in and found me a chiropractor here. I've gone yesterday and today. I don't feel better. I know it will take time. But still. NOT FEELING BETTER OVER HERE.

Oh yeah, plus this: As an added bonus, it was apparently Receptionist's first day on the job, and she told me that with my insurance coverage, I was responsible for a $10 copay PLUS 50% of all services rendered. I drove home from appointment on Monday in shock, after having paid $50. For ONE visit.

YEAH FIFTY BUCKS. I was hyperventilating over $15. I told the receptionist and the Dr. that "I have never paid over $15 for a visit. Never ever. ... ever."

The second "ever" was to show these people that I meant business and I wasn't happy!

But I paid anyway! Cuz I am a total sucker! And maybe my coverage did change!?! Highly unlikely! But surely this girl who has been on the job FOR A DAY knows better than I.

I anger easily when I am in pain, see.

I received a call this morning "so, yeah we found out that your copay is actually $15, no deductible, and unlimited visits. So you have a couple of future visits credited. Very sorry about that."

To which I really wanted to say " BOOOOYAH BIATCH I DONE TOLD YOU!!!"

But I didn't cuz I remembered I am mature.

What? I AM.

Things are lookin' up!

So either the Iron is doing its job, or it's all in my head. Either way: ENERGY. I HAS IT. Sure, it still comes in waves and once the wave crests (umm. thats right, isnt it?), this girl is pooped. And I plop right down on the couch for some good ole fashioned wall-staring.

But man, in between the plopping (ew), I am a productive little girl these days. I'm working out (ish), I'm cleaning, I'm tracking down the tumbleweeds of fur around the house that have just started appearing, along with the increase in hacked up fur balls. Mmmm tasty. By the way, product plug. If you are having trouble with pet fur, try this miracle of miracles, this genius of geniuses: [Vanna White hand movements] THE FURMINATAH. Like AHNALD would say it. BECAUSE IT AMUSES ME. THATS WHY.

GOD.

Anyway. So I'm pretty stoked that I am feeling better.

Oh yeah, Lazy Eye Update: New, less head-tilting name Amblyopia. And by head tilting, I mean when I tell somebody about my lazy eye they tilt their head to their right and stare directly at my left eye quizzically. Whereupon, I have to say "yeah its not a lazy eye in that its looking left and im looking right, it's that its weaker and my brain doesnt really use it." "Oh......???"

And besides, {hair toss},the term "Lazy Eye" is considered by some to be PEJORATIVE.{Nose in the Air} Commoners.

Read the 3rd paragraph of the Amblyopia link, then come back and laugh because DAMN IM FUNNY.

Anyway. So come to find out the youngest of my brothers also has it. And he's nearly legally blind in that particular eye. He's 42. SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO, NO? He was patched as a child but it didnt fix it. I was not patched, but I do remember some pretty kickin' pink Jordache spectacles when I was 6 or 7.

I went to an Ophthalmologist? Opthamologist? OphoEYEmologist? EYE MD to see if I could get a second opinion for the "ha. sucks to be you." diagnosis/treatment I had received previously. This doctor explained it to me, and I now understand. Here's my treatment: HA HA NOTHIN. SUCKER. Surgery would do nothing, because lasik is no better than lens correction and since no lenses can correct it at this point, I'm SOL. *sniff*

Apparently, this can be corrected before the age of 11. Once past this age, your brain figures out that this eye doesn't work so good so the brain trains itself to stop using it, and overworks the non-gimpy eye. Patching the good eye is one way to fix it. This forces the brain the use the gimpy eye. Also, glasses. Once past the age of 11, your brain is old and set in it's ways. Old Dog, new tricks. Know what I'm sayin'. And since I am a wee bit past the age of 11, my brain, she creaks at this point.

Neither treatments worked for my brother or I. So now we're stuck in spectacles for the rest of our lives. Woe.

I wonder what one contact would be like? Would I be lopsided?

In other news, no appearance of cankles in WEEKS. but shhhhhhhhhhhh don't say it too loud.

So, how are you guys?

Psssssst. The comment link? see that down there? Use it, k? xo, me.

Hi.

I've been trying to live out in the real world more and not hide behind my laptop lately. With these random spurts of energy I keep having (YAYYYYYYYYYY IRON I <3 YOU!!), who has time to sit around and stare at the wall?

I'm kidding. I still have plenty of occasions to stare at the wall. Baby steps, people.

Mostly the problem is that I have all these cool (ya know, cool to me) ideas for hysterical, genius (hysterical, genius--to me) postings. And then I get to my laptop and prepare to type and I...

All together now!

DRAW A BLANK!

Who knew how genius that blog title was? Total accident. I couldn't think of anything else. Just like me naming my Guitar Hero Band "Flip Flop" cuz I couldn't think of anything else (I'm starting to see a theme here) and then spotted the FLIP FLOP ON MY FOOT.

Its staggering, how brilliant I am. I know.

In search of new eyes...

So a couple of days ago, I went to get my eyeballs looked at because it's starting to worry me a little *cough* that when I try to look at the time on the microwave when I am standing in the living room, it's a green blur. It didn't used to be a green blur. In fact. I remember actual numbers. Yet, even when I squint, I still can't see it. :(

ORRRRRR say if I am playing rockband. I have to wear my glasses to read the lyrics. That's not very rock 'n roll. :(

ORRRRRRRRr say driving. If I wanna see a road sign before I'm up on it, my glasses better be on my face or I could possibly run right into the end of a street before realizing what's going on. I kid. I kid. But the exit signs are blurry until I'm right on 'em. HEY! Maybe that's why I missed my exit home that one time!

ORrrrrr.. well I could go on. Point is: far away? Tricia no see.

Anyway so at Optometrist appointment and I get past the glaucoma test finally. Here's the thing about that. I can touch my own eyeball. But if I'm trying to put drops in, or if someone else is trying to? Heh. Good luck mister. And it's apparently hard to shoot a puff of air into someone's eye when it's fluttering like a hummingbird. Who knew?

Moving along...

So we're doing the whole "1 better, or 2? 3 better or 4?" and she keeps going "that's so strange!!" And then she says "I think you have a lazy eye!"

She sounds so excited about it, too. And, I dunno, call me crazy. But Lazy Eye is not something I would be getting excited about. My definition of "lazy eye" is when one eye is looking forward and the other is all "dude, check this over here on the left!" Apparently, that's not the only definition of a lazy eye. She says I have the type wherein it cant be corrected with lenses. Then she goes on to tell me that my current prescription is basically a piece of glass in my left, lazy eye, and an actual prescription in the right. And that the reason why my eyesight is getting worse is because my right eye is working overtime trying to help out the gimpy left one.

She didn't say gimpy, I just added it for comedic effect. Did it work?

So if I am understanding this correctly, I could walk around with one spectacle like the Monopoly dude and have the same affect (jesus WHICH IS IT? affect? effect?) as the dual spectacles I presently own?

Sidenote: The only picture I could find of the Monopoly Man with said singular spectacle is here and it doesn't even look like the real dude anyway. Why do I remember this guy having a single spectacle? Maybe it was years ago and I am showing my age?

Anyway, not the point.

So later on, after she dialates my eyes to check for disease in said lazy eye, (Which btw, thanks for that. I'm now a vampire. Noooooooooooo the sun!! It's so bright!!! Im meltingggggg!!!!) I'm waiting for a friend to meet me for dinner to put off the driving home with that blinding day star in my face. So, to kill some time, I call my parents and tell them the news, they reply with AND I QUOTE:

"Oh yeah, you've had that since you were a kid!"

...

1. So why have I not had glasses all my life?
2. WTF. These are things you tell your child people. Seriously.

P.S. No more doctors. My body is crap. I GET IT.

Where Mah Hairz At?!

Those of you who know me, know that I am fairly self-conscious (ahem) of the fact that my hair is thinning in the front of my head. The neuroses is (are?) mostly due to my mom forcibly pounding the front of her head with her forefinger and saying "Trishy! Your bald spot is showing!" Right there in the middle of dinner for my entire family to hear. At which point everyone's eyes focus squarely on my forehead.

I love her so.

And I know, I know. It's lame to blame things on your parents. But seriously? When the Woman is out in public with me and does the stomping on her head with her forefinger thing and talks through her teeth at me, after a while, a girl becomes really self-conscious.

But lately, I've been noticing it like a lot all on my own. The finger stomping is now in another state, so there's no one else to call it out to me. Except the mirrors. Sweet jesus, the mirrors! I see it all.the.time.now. So I talked to my hair stylist and she recommended I go see a dermatologist. I've gone to dermatologists before, and all they do is look at my scalp and go "hmm yeah looks like female something or other sucks to be you-itis" Whatever the word is for female genetic hair loss. I forget.

Here's the thing though. No woman in my family is losing their hair and the female elders of the family still have full heads of hair. Sure, on some its thin, but it's not like you can see their scalp or anything. The men are, however, a completely different story. I've heard it both ways. It comes from your dad's side. It comes from your mom's side. Blah Blah.

Point is: Females. Either Side. Full heads of hair!

So I thought I'd give it another go. So there I was. Sitting in the exam room I was. Thinking about just exactly I wanted to tell her, and oh! dont forget to tell her [whatever]!

BTW, I obsess. (surprise!) I obsess about making sure I tell the doctor everything. I invariably forget something. I've even started writing things down now so that I will remember. Hello, neuroticville, table for 1.

So this time I was writing on my iPhone on my little "notes" app. Think notepad only apple-ified, and thus WAY COOLER. NO! WAY COOLER I SAID! She walks in, and I drop the phone in my purse. And then immediately go blank.

She introduces herself and we shake hands, "So what can I help you with today"

I think for a moment ("durrrr..."), and then reach for my phone, the hamsters awake and I go (ding!) "Oh yeah, my hair is thinning in the front"

Anyway. This story is getting far longer than necessary.

So she made me go get bloodwork after the appointment. Her office called me this morning.

Guess who's anemic. Anemia, that which could lead to hair loss, fatigue, weight gain (caused by aforementioned fatigue), etc.

CHECK, CHECK, AND FRIGGIN CHECK!

I swear to god, I've had bloodwork done before. Nobody mentioned anemia. Ever.

So I ran out to the store after work to get me some Iron, Vitamin C (better absorption of Iron), and Fiber supplements (cuz taking iron makes your bowels all none worky. oh fun)! Yay pills! Pills to fix me! Wheeee Pills!

And hey! NOW I KNOW WHY IM SO DAMN COLD ALL THE TIME!

I hope this works. I could use more hair on my head, more energy and a little less girth around the mid-section, thats fo sho!

Tips to Prevent PMS

I saw these words in my inbox and thought "yes! finally! *fistpump*" and eagerly clicked the link. I figured I'd read some things I already know, like avoid caffeine, avoid foods high in sodium, exercise, drink water, etc. But I figured surely, since they bothered to take the time to send out an email, they would have a few new kernels of wisdom.

Right? Well, here's their wisdom.

AND I QUOTE:

Because doctors are not exactly sure what causes PMS, there is no way to prevent it. However, you may be able to alleviate some PMS symptoms by leading a healthier lifestyle.

Well knock me down and slap me silly, thats INCREDIBLY USEFUL INFO. THANKS EVER SO MUCH FOR SENDING OUT THAT EMAIL.

In search of new ankles...

I totally bit it on the way to my car from the grocery store. I was pushing the cart along, overflowing with stuff, iPhone in hand. Because, I don't know, I fancy myself as someone important. Who could receive a call at any second! Must be ready!

The goal for the grocery store was to acquire umm, hamburger meat I think, I left with over $100 of stuff (P.S. its creepy how fast that happens).

I slipped on the word "Stop" painted on the concrete in my worn out crocks flip-flops. It had just rained, one of those monsoon rains that downpours for 5 minutes and disappears. And I guess the combination of the wet ground, no doubt mixed with oil, the slickness of the white paint and the fact that my shoes no longer had tread = Tricia fall down, go boom.

Or you know, the fact that I am a complete klutz, could have had something to do with it.

I slipped, twisted my ankle. Grasped my phone and the handle bar of the grocery cart and somehow fell to my knees, never letting go. I heard the familiar pop that I've heard more than enough times that I have lost count.

There was a woman in front of me emptying her cart into the back of her SUV. She gasped, and said "Are you OK?!"

Still kneeling in the middle of the parking lot, still grasping handle bar and phone, I wince "um.. yeah i think so"

and then I proceed to walk to the side of the road ON MY KNEES. STILL PUSHING THE CART. STILL WITH PHONE IN HAND (my precious). I think I did this because I have twisted/sprained my ankle enough to know that I cannot always put weight on it immediately, and walking on my knees was my solution.

Vaguely graceful, no?

I'm OK now, the popping always happens. And with me and my sad little ankles, the popping means nothing. They pop when I take my first steps out of bed every morning. They pop when I take my first steps after sitting for a time. It's a normal thing. It's sore and I'm kinda limpy, but that's more probably due to the fact that I am a big fat baby. Wah.

I really need to get cracking on those strengthening exercises. Somebody remind me tomorrow.

It's high time we had a list

1. Going to San Francisco in a week for a conference and I'm twitchy about it. Being by myself. All by myself. In a city I've never been to makes me twitchy. wah.


2. Taebo Bootcamp Elite, Mission 1: Make Tricia's Body Ooze Pain--Accomplished. *wince*


3. Blackberry knows when its medication, even if you switched to ointment to be rubbed on the inside of the ears. It's equally terrifying. And don't you even dare come near me human. I WILL CUT YOU.


4. Bought a pink laptop bag from ebags that is just darling. Part of the cost was donated to Susan B. Komen Foundation. I am a fantastic human.


5. Spent ummm... A LOT at the grocery store yesterday afternoon. Then, had Chinese for dinner. I R BRAT.


6. Made kick-ass dinner tonight to make up for it. Karma restored.


7. Any chance I can drop 10lbs between now and the time I get on the plane next Monday? NO? WATCH ME.


8. WHAT IN THE SAM HELL DO I PACK TO GO TO THIS PLACE. I keep hearing its windy and chilly, but nice and warm during the day. But seriously, chilly. Chilly for whom? Normal warm-blooded humans, or me? hmmm? ANSWERS PEOPLE. I NEED THEM.


9. So uh, hey. Anyone wanna hang in San Francisco next week with me? It'll be loads of fun!


10. C'mon :(

Thank You Detroit!

So I was a good girl and put my tax refund in my savings account and declared to only use it when absolutely necessary.

And then I caved and used some of it to buy Rockband at Target. Woopsy.

When we were putting it together, I unwrapped the drum sticks and smiled. I had an instant flashback to me laying on my bed coloring and my brother playing drums on the back of my thigh. Or my stomach, or my arm--whatever was available or made the best sound I guess. I could smell the house and I could hear him "ratta tat tat brtrrtrtrtrtrtrtrt"ing. So weird how random objects will take you back in time and that time will be so vivid. I miss hanging out with my brothers.

Vocals and Guitar I pretty much have down but MAN do I feel ridiculous trying to play the drums, arms all flailing about and leg stomping and stammering at all the wrong times. I've never felt so out of rhythm in my entire life.

I love this game with my whole heart! Seriously!

Anyway, gotta run! I've got a drum kit to master.

A Day in the Life of the Blank Mind

0730: Alarm Goes off, hit snooze

0740-0820: Continue to swat at alarm clock. Honestly, I don't know why I bother setting it.

0845: Peep clock with one eyeball, fly out of bed and start shower, brush teefs. Admire the bed head. I remind myself a lot of Axl Rose circa Welcome to the Jungle--34 seconds in.

0855: Out of shower, q-tip the ears. Cannot skip this step. Q-tipping = bliss. I am addicted.

0857: (Yes, Two whole minutes to Q-Tip. I'm telling you, its an important step dude)
Grab whatever t-shirt and trackpants/warm-up pants/workout shorts/jeans/whatever i cant wear in the office nanny nanny boo boo and throw it on

0859: Grab phone and water bottle from night stand

0900: Say bye to all the felines as if I am leaving the house. I dont know, so don't ask.

0901: Log in to work. Read email, etc. *yawn* Think to myself "so when's vacation again?"

0915: Notice that I am freezing, then realize OH YEAH MY HAIR IS STILL WET.

0916: Blow-dry hair at my desk, keeping eye on screen should anyone msg me. What happens if Im not there! They'll think im slacking!

0920: Go to kitchen and acquire some form of breakfast food. OR NOT. depending on how busy I am

1130/Noonish (depending on how hungry I am): Contemplate lunch. This can go one of two ways: 1. I grab some crap from the kitchen and go back to desk or 2. Decide going out for something is good choice. Figure out what the closest places are, do the math on how fast i can get there in back (usually nothing faster than half an hour, suck.)

1230: Eat at desk, continue to work

1245 (oh lets be honest, throughout the day): Peer over at personal computer for email, tweets, etc.

1700: Oh, would ya look at that! its 5! I should log off.

1705: Hang on, lemme just do this real quick.

1745: Real quick my ass

1800: Wander out of office and proceed directly to couch to cuddle up with blanket. BF says the office is the hottest room in the house. Whatevs, I disagree. brrr.

1830: Watch Everybody Loves Raymond Reruns. Cannot get enough of this show. Raymond is an exact duplicate of my middle brother. EXACT. It's creepy a little.

1915: Peel myself off couch and do some chores (maybe), kick some imaginary ass, taebo-style. Perhaps prepare dinner, or we go out.

2030: Screw around on computer while watching TV

2100: Ditto

2200: Ditto

2230: Go "SHIT! It's 1030 already!"

2300: "SHIT! It's 11 already!?!"

2400: Terrorize Blackberry with anxiety pill we have to shoot down her throat. Remove whole cat that is now left on my tshirt. She molts when freaked out. Watch Late show.

2430: Put earplugs in ears and sigh loudly while tossing and turning which is code for "TURN THE TV OFF ALREADY" HI. I R BITCH.

0100: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

No wonder I'm so tired all the time. YOU TRY KEEPING THAT SCHEDULE.

[Edited to Add]: Fixed times, i fail at military time. Theres no friggin 2430 ya moron.

[Edited to remove my previous edit]: HAHA YES THERE IS. JESUS.

Cankles

Speaking of being pregnant, which is to say that I'm not! so proceed with the breathing (don't be freaking crazy people! jesus! you scared me too!), but a couple of weeks ago I encountered a much treasured side-effect of pregnancy--cankles.

affect? effect?

So at my last oil change appointment (as BF affectionately calls it), my doctor decided to change my birth control pills for seemingly no reason, other than he had samples of it versus what I was currently on at the time. Makes PERFECT sense.

Fucking hell man, I shoulda resisted. Ever since the change from Yasmine to Yaz, I've been what one would describe as...now, how did they put it... oh right, BITCH ON WHEELS!

LET ME JUST TELL YOU HOW FUN THAT IS:

I have actually stepped outside myself while yelling at BF for ... I dunno.. BREATHING probably. Looked myself up and down, looked at him, pointed at her (er... me?) and said "She's serious, isn't she?!"

Mother of all moodswings, dude, I was seriously out of control.

One minute, I am sulky and depressed, complaining about how fat I am. Woe *sniff*
Him: "aww sweetheart you arent fat!"
Me: "DONT PATRONIZE ME! I KNOW IM FAT"
Him (wide-eyed, with the "ok, what just happened" look): "uhhm, I wasn't"
Me: "DONT SAY YOU WERENT CUZ I KNOW YOU WERE! I DONT NEED YOU PATRONIZING ME!"
[spit flying from my foamy mouth]
Him: " "
Me: "WHAT! Tell me what you are thinking right now rarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"
Him: "... --- ... / ... --- ... / ... --- ..."
Me: "WOULD YOU STOP THAT TAPPING! GOD!"

I should buy him some flowers or something.

Added to that--yes! there's more!--I had a rather large water retention issue. In that all water consumed, went in, but I had zero water going out.

Do me a favor. Close your mouth and press your lips together. Now fill your mouth with air so that your cheeks are taut--this is vaguely close to how i felt. Comfy, no?

This little morsel of joy showed up Saturday the day before we traveled to NOVA. And let me just tell you, 6 hours in the car doesn't help water retention issues at all.

Every day it seemed to get worse, Tuesday I was miserable and spent the morning researching natural diuretics because OMG IM HAVING TO SQUEEZE MY FEET INTO MY SHOES!

Upon completing research, I marchedwaddled over to the kitchen and grabbed every kind of tea bag that contained anything remotely sounding like the herbs I found on the internet.

Herbs found on internet:
Dandelion Root
Green Tea
Yarrow

Herbs found in kitchen:
Green Tea
Black Tea
Earl Grey
Raspberry tea
Love Lemon
(what?)

and added a tea bag of KegOfSunshine's "skinny tea"

added all 6 teabags (yes) to the one styrofoam cup of steamy water and steeped for like 20 minutes. The more steeped the stronger, no?

Let me just tell you how good that shit was.

bleh.

I took a dose midol complete because on the bottle, it said it helped with bloating.

I worked out every evening.

I went to the vitamin shoppe and bought a dandelion root pill FOR THE LOVE OF PETE.

and nothing! No Improvement! Every day i walked from the office to the hotel room (which is like, I dunno 150 feet plus one flight of stairs) and I was FRIGGIN WINDED by the time I got to the hotel door. Which Hi! I know I'm out of shape, but give me a break, Im not THAT out of shape!

I went to lunch with my team to a joint across the street from our office. I walked there and back with my team, my feet squeezed into my ballet shoes (WHICH STILL DIDNT SEEM TO STAY ON MY HEELS ANYWAY GODDAMN HORRIBLE SHOES), my body squeezed into my ill-fitting clothes, the skin on my fingers so tight that I could hardly make a fist. I was literally straining the seams of my own body. I tried hard to keep up without actually looking like I was about to die.

Friday, it was finally time to go home, wherein I cried THREE TIMES on the drive back.

And then ye gods decided to put me out of my girl misery and girl week commenced upon my return home (3 days late, I might add) and all fluids exited my body, the bones returned to my feet, my hands once again forming a fist comfortably and clothes fitting more comfortably! Shoes able to be worn with socks! PRAISE JEBUS!

I switched back to Yasmine that weekend.

Now, you may be thinking to yourself "But Tricia! Those girls on the commercial! At the bar! Talking about birth control and one happens to be a OB/GYN (whats up with that, I mean come fucking on), says that Yaz is less hormones and will alleviate PMS and Bloating, etc."

To which I will nod, close my eyes, take a deep breath and wimper. Because, I DONT GET IT EITHER.

Moral of the Story: Don't switch Birth Control without sufficient justification.

Note: FREE SAMPLES IS NOT SUFFICIENT JUSTIFICATION, CHEAPASS.

on Children

Say, have I mentioned that EVERYONE around me is pregnant? Seriously! K&J, our dear friends that got married late last year are pregnant (yay you guys! Congrats!) and my friend J is pregnant too and...

OK WHATEVER ONLY TWO. Seems like a lot, OK?

WHAT?

Anyway, it's got me thinkin' about uhm... kids. More specifically, me HAVING said kids. Because, obviously, the time has come for such things! And, to be quite honest, the mere thought of that really just makes me want to run in the opposite direction screaming.

I'm not even kidding.

Dude, I like freeze up when a kid gets near me. I have no idea what to say or do around them. I know NOTHING about taking care of kids. The fact that a 7-year-old kid can irritate the ever-loving shit out of me (because HI! YES I SEE YOU! I SEE YOU! SHUTUP ALREADY!), can't be a good sign I'm thinking.

And I don't really get that because when I was a teenager I babysat a fair amount. Not that babysitting indicates future Mother of the Year awards but, I remember being vaguely good at it. Able to make kids smile and giggle. I was a friggin baby whisperer compared to what I am now man.

Exhibit A: Out with Tree for our Valentine's Day date with her adorable little man. They had run off to the bathroom, again, all in the name of keeping the little man entertained because a 30 minute wait? At a mexican restaurant? WHAT? I was starting to get twitchy myself, so I understand how he must've been feeling.

ANYWAY so they are off killing time checking out the wonders of the public restroom and the hostess let's me know that we are finally up for a table! Whee! So I sit down, and ask her before she runs off for a high chair.

A HIGH CHAIR. FOR AN ALMOST FOUR YEAR OLD. YES.

Tree finally arrives at the table and I say proudly "I got a high chair!" She looked at the chair and then at me, perplexed, and said "oh uhh... we dont need a um.. a high chair?"

Her voice raised an octive as you do when you ask a question, because in her head she was probably thinking "Are you serious?" Followed promptly by, " You're an idiot."

Because hi! baby = high chair. What do you want from me ;)

Exhibit B: My Nephew, we'll just call him Holy Terror In Sneakers because HOLY MOTHER OF SUGAR HIGHS THAT BOY... he... he's like. WOW. just... wow. Anyway, when he gets in one of his moods where he runs around in circles and screams. I sorta just...

Well I basically find myself wide-eyed with my hands up surrender-style, standing absolutely still, taking short shallow breaths. Because if I move! The velociraptor will see me! and attack me! eeeeeeeee!

See what I mean?

I've always thought that I wanted kids, but now I am not so sure. In addition to the freezing... dude, just the idea of physically having the thing? Makes me cross my legs and wince. Seriously.

This feeling is replaced with "awwwwww baby! I want I want!" right? Eventually?

Please say yes.

At the car wash

BF and I deemed today "National Take the Day off Work Day." Waking up on a workday without the alarm? Pure Bliss, and you should try it. Immediately.

We were on our way to lunch for Soup! Salad! and Breadsticks! The genius lunch that is just so friggin goooooooooooood. And we stopped at a car wash to "check it out." BF, like most men, is particular about his car--and the washing of said car is no exception. There are many points to an "awesome" drive-thru car wash. Don't even try to understand it, but among the many requirements, there was one that had yet been met since we moved down here. We were in search of a dryer at the end of the car wash. Because air drying is unacceptable! Water Spots! OMG THE WATER SPOTS!!!

and lo! This one had one!

Upon realizing, this particular car wash had one, he said AND I QUOTE: "Yeah, thas what daddy like"

Then he read the car wash menu and fixed his eyes upon the words "TRIPLE FOAM" and well, I've never seen him reach for his wallet with such speed and determination.

He makes his purchase, drool already collecting in the corners of his mouth, and we roll into the bay and stop when the light tells us. BF puts the car in park and checks the windows AGAIN for the THIRD time. Content that the windows are seriously closed, he then focuses on the arms that are now moving swiftly around the car. He switches his attention to the sign that tells us what phase we are in, and I swear to you, I havent seen that kind of focus and eagerness in his eyes in quite some time. He reminded me of the kid he once was (or is...I mean HI!), it was completely adorable. All wide-eyed, watching the arms move around the car. Watching out the front window, then the side, then looking in the rear-view lest he miss the party going on in the back.

And then the TRIPLE FOAM phase came.

He said "doesnt that just look so cool!?!"

I looked at the window, as the pink, green, and yellow slowly ooozed down the window--far less impressed--and noddded, "mmhmm"

Then it was over and it was time to dry. There was a sign directing us to where the dryer timer was, and as we inched forward, he inched his head forward and squinted.

"I can't see it!"

So, I read the red numbers as they ticked by, while he inched the car forward ever so slowly--because, god forbid we miss a single second of dryness that is rightly ours afterall!

"10...9....8...7...6..."

when we got to 4, we rolled back a little to catch those last seconds.

Guys are so hilarious sometimes.

Engine Engine Number Nine

Ya know, not much happens when you work from home. Nothing blog-worthy anyway. Though I am sure some would argue that most of my past topics weren't blog-worthy either. But I ignore them. Or apply duck tape to their mouths.

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A friend of ours swooped into town this past weekend with her usual mix of big smiles, mass amounts of wit, and lots of laughs. I love her to pieces. Please come more often m'kay? We gots room yo!

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BF went to the grocery store for me this week. NO. SHIT. *fist pump*

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Ass: Still Fat
Jeans: Still Falling--even with belt
Water Consumption: Inconsistent
Vitamin Intake: Inconsistent
Gym Visits: !!!!!!INCONSISTENT MOTHER OF HELL!!!!!!!!
Pounds Lost: still need a scale.
Wall Staring: Surplus. Mad Surplus
Smoking: Smoked Saturday evening *sigh* Margaritas were involved. I'm weak.
Bon Jovi: Still in car. Meaningful pointing continues.

And you guys? How are ya'll doin?

Now with 50% less whining!

So yeah, that last post was a little whiney wasn't it? Sorry about that.

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BF has been out of town since two Saturday's ago. I was out of town from two Sunday's ago to this past Friday. Using dates would probably be easier, but then I'd have to go find a calendar. And I'm really comfy right now, so just try to follow me here.

All last week when I was in Virginia, my parents kept suggesting that maybe I should stay through the weekend. Or, why don't I stay next week too? You can work from home! The roof of my mouth started to get itchy cuz...another week with my parents? Hmm.. tempting.

Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. But.. yeah. I wanted to go home.

So I left at noon on Friday like I always do. The trip home was longer than usual. Who knew President's Day Holiday was a traveling holiday! I missed the exit for 485 which is the highway that runs by the house.

No IDEA how that shit happened. But really, thats mostly expected of me by now, isn't it?

After cursing loudly and repeatedly for several minutes and passing SEVERAL exits that I could've totally gotten off on and turned around, I finally picked an exit, turned around and sat in traffic for a half hour, which was awesome.

So I finally got home, and aside from the cats and the tick of the clock on the wall, the house was eerily quiet. Usually, BF is at home when I get home and he wasn't.

I normally revel in my time alone but this time was different for some reason, and I have no idea why really.

The bonus was that this was a three day weekend! By myself! HOOOO BOY! ALL THE THINGS I COULD DO!!! BY MYSELF!

LIKE!... I DUNNO!

I honestly thought this weekend was gonna rule, cuz I'd be alone and umm.. stuff?

I was wrong.

JFC I've never been so bored in my entire life. I updated my flickr page, I checked twitter more than a normal human should. I did laundry, picked up the house eventhough hi! I've been gone for a week--what is there to pick up? I went grocery shopping, dropped off prescriptions, picked up prescriptions. I ORGANIZED MY PANTRY.

IM NOT EVEN KIDDING.

Tree, whom I had a date with Valentine's Day Night (wait, what?), had given me "Martian Child" to watch. I had to watch it twice, cuz I wasn't even paying attention the first time. THATS HOW BORED I WAS. I COULDNT EVEN FOCUS. WITH ALL THE LIKE... BOREDOM!

John Cusack...*dreamy sigh* The second time though, the movie was really good! Thanks Tree!

Monday night, I went to dinner with some of BF's co-workers (at his suggestion, dont be weird) because I NEEDED TO GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!

So yeah. BF comes home Friday. So I have several more boring evenings ahead. Woe is me.

Got my number? CALL ME PLS!

Oh hey, I said less whining... maybe next time, k?

on Smoking

When I was a child, I hated smoking. I hated that it would make my very long hair smell like an ashtray, and my clothes. I used to complain to my mother and she'd nod in agreement, but that's all we could do was vent. By ourselves in the car--our one and only smoke-free environment. All 3 of my brothers and my father smoked. We were the minority in the household and certainly weren't going to get them to smoke OUTSIDE instead of filling up our cozy little home with that awful smell. After that one lesson in health class, I had begun to give them weekly lectures about how with every cigarette they smoked, they were taking 7 minutes off their life. And didn't they think that was awful? They should quit. It shouldn't be that hard! I was very naive.

Fast forward to me... 8th grade. My friend Jenn and I started sneaking cigarettes from our parent's packs for no real reason other than sheer boredom. We were too old to play, and not quite old enough to be hanging out at the mall like the high school kids. So we hung out in the woods and smoked instead. No one was the wiser since we always smelled like smoke anyway. Instead of candy or ice cream, we purchased Marlboro Red's from our neighborhood ice cream man.

High school. Smoked with my best friend Jennie (different girl) as she drove me home in her truck. She had to sit on her foot to drive because she was short. Shorter than me, if you can believe that. I never did smoke in the bathroom or behind the building at school. I was a good bad girl. I had my limits. At home, I'd sneak a cigarette occasionally. I'd smoke in my closet, or out my bedroom window. I didn't worry about the smell since our house was filled with it all the time anyway. I thought it was a foolproof plan.

I came home one day from school and walked in the back door of the apartment into the kitchen. My Dad was standing at the counter making himself his 40th cup of coffee of the day and my Mom was sitting at the kitchen table. I thought nothing of it, and tossed my backpack and sat down with her. Had the usual conversation: "So, how was school?" "Fine" "What did you do today" "Umm.. learned stuff."

I was a real peach.

My dad came up behind me and put an ashtray in front of me and said, "next time. USE IT" I felt my face get hot and my stomach sank, immediately filling with a million butterflies--the kind you get when you know you've been busted and there is nothing you can do. My throat went dry and I swallowed hard, and looked at my mom. I could read the disappointment in her eyes. The bond and united front we once had, was now broken. I felt like such a hypocrite.

The shame that I felt, however, didnt stop me from continuing on my smokey path. I wish it had.

After that, my parents told me it was okay to smoke in front of them. I refused. It felt so weird. It felt it close to being able to cuss in front of them and it being OK (it wasn't, I still cringe when "Shit" slips out now, and I'm nearly 31). It just felt wrong. I felt ashamed and embarrassed the one time I tried it. Years later, my dad would occasionally come visit me outside when I was smoking. The shame and embarrassment has not gone away.

College, freshman year, smoking started to become something I HAD to do instead of something I WANTED to do. I started to get twitchy when long stretches of time had passed without a cigarette. I noticed that I was always making sure I had enough on me where ever I went, lest I die should I have one less than I needed. I thought nothing of it since all my friends did the same thing. It felt normal. It felt OK. I know now that it so wasn't.

And so began the addiction. The complete transformation from relatively sweet happy girl to full-on bitch when I hadn't had one in a while. The pre-planning.

When I met BF, he wasn't real crazy about the fact that I was a smoker but accepted it anyway. Sort of. When I would get moody or pissy he'd tell me "just go have a cigarette already!" I was well aware of how I smelled and how smokey breath probably wasn't exactly the most kissable thing in the world. So I began carrying a pack of gum with me at all times. Though in hindsight, I doubt the mix of Wrigley's spearmint and smoke was any more attractive. About a year into our relationship, I realized just how much he hid how much he hated it. This is the first time I decided to quit. I failed, obviously. I failed because I didnt want to, but was doing it for him. I was in love, and wanted to make him happy.

Since then, I've quit for a zillion reasons. Recently though, the reasons have been for me. Because about 4 years ago I began to hate it. Yet it calls to me, in a loving, soothing, familiar voice. It is the first thing I go to when I am stressed out, having a bad day, or just for no reason at all. I've been a smoker now for 12 years.

There's days when I am glad I no longer smoke, and there's others where I miss it so much that my heart beats faster at the idea of having just one.

Some days are easier than others, and yeah, I do hit minor bumps in the road and give in for a split second. But I keep trying. And that to me, is a victory in itself.

I really want to be a non-smoker (and have been on Chantix for 3 straight weeks now) but every time an occasion comes up in which smoking used to be involved for me, like say going to a bar, etc. My throat tightens and my heart starts to beat faster in anticipation, and I begin to doubt myself and already start to plan how I will deceive myself. The next day though, the after effects shine through and I get right back on that horse.

I have become aware of the effects smoking has on my body. I have some ... uhh... digestive issues that are only exasperated by smoking. My nails become brittle, the skin on my fingers is apparently very delicate and I get that awful tinge of yellow between my index finger and my middle finger. My skin dries out. I have headaches a lot more often. My level of fatigue is heightened drastically. My throat is perpetually scratchy and tight. Phlegm. It's just all around bad and nasty, but I forget all of that when the thought of how smoking just one would be so nice right now. I know it will kill me and yet it hasn't been enough to make me stop. It's amazing how reason and intellect fly out the window when addiction is involved.

I hate that my quitting has become this running joke between me and everyone around me. I call it my hobby and laugh at it to hide the deep disappointment in myself. When my friends or BF rolls their eyes at me when I tell them I have quit, it hurts way deep inside. But I smile anyway and say "I know, I know." I would really love for one of these times for someone to squeeze my hand and look me dead in the eye and say "I know you can do it." But I know that it is my fault and mine alone that I have not been successful yet, and I can't blame the lack of support.

Still. Having someone support my determination at least, would really mean a lot.

All 3 of my brothers and my father are now all smoke-free. They did it, seemingly, with complete ease, and I just don't understand why this is so hard for me. It's just so very disappointing.

One of these times I will be successful in my endeavor. I need to believe this time is it.

Sounds of Basketball

In recent years, my mom has become a serious basketball fan. More specifically, a die-hard San Antonio Spurs fan. My brothers and I are highly amused about this for two reasons:

1. When we lived in San Antonio she could've cared less.
2. Watching her watch a game is so much fun. Hell, even listening to her while in another room is downright entertaining.

She sits on the edge of her seat with one leg folded under her. She sits straight up and rocks forward and stretches her neck when the ball is in the air. If it's the opposing team shooting, "NOOOOO! MISS IT! MISS IT! MISS IT! MISS IT!" If they make it, "AWWWW!" and slouches in defeat. If they miss it, as she requested, "WAY TO GO!", complete with fist pump (so THAT'S where I get it from!)

Sometimes in unison with my dad.

If the Spurs are shooting, "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" Should they miss, "C'MON [player's first name--you know, cuz they are so tight]!" If they make it, "WAY TO GO!" and then immediately turns to my dad, and says, "three pointer?" he says, "no, two."

They then watch TV for an hour or so to "settle down" It's constant yelling at the tv, mostly from my mom. Which is quite different from what used to be the norm: my dad furiously yelling at the tv (he tends to uhh, pick lack-luster teams), while my mom occupied herself otherwise. It's nice that he now has a partner to watch one of his favorite sports with. Hearing her yell and clap and get so excited makes me smile.

I hope that when I am married for 42 years (I think? Math hurts my teeny brain), I will have that with BF too.

[Edited to Add] It's 48, not 42. I knew that looked wrong.

Monthly Roadtrip to VA: Highlights

1. Packing the night before is ingenious, why didn't I think of this sooner?


2. Gassing up the night before, also brilliant


3. Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet is amazingly entertaining on a long drive


4. Driving in high winds requires two hands, moron


5. Cops seen: 2335678901


6. Tickets acquired: 0 *fist pump*


7. Speaking of fist pump, what is it about Bon Jovi that makes me do odd things with my hands? Fist pump, meaninful pointing, etc. (I mean really, how else would you sing Living on a Prayer?)


8. Note to self: When you leave earlier, you encounter assloads of traffic


9. Drove by an accident where a tree had fallen on a moving vehicle. Yowzah.


10. Did the whole "Holy Shit dude, if I hadn't stopped to pee, that totally coulda been me!


11. Turning up Bon Jovi LOUDER helps stifle the drama queen.


12. Switching to Al Greene while moving a whole 2 mph on 95 calms the beast within. Car dancing does a lot for the soul.


13. Upping water intake has adverse affects on making trip in 5.5 hours.


14. Saw a pink and purple striped AND checkered car. No lie. Driver was serious about it too.


15. Taking pics of said car with iPhone in windy conditions? Not so brilliant. Nor fruitful. Did get a picture of my rear view mirror though.


16. Driving headaches are the awesome.


17. Is can be go home time now pls?