"There is never enough time to do or say all the things that we would wish. The thing is to try to do as much as you can in the time that you have. Remember Scrooge, time is short, and suddenly, you're not here any more. "
- The Ghost Of Christmas Present
So, in an effort to prove I'm not 100% a Scrooge this year, as some emails accused...I decided to do something a little different this year.
I'm currently without a lot at this point in time. I essentially have clothes and pictures. Some of my stuff is in storage and all my really important belongings, again, are three or four oceans away and I will not be able to spend the damn holidays with the people I want to spend them with.
I sold the car months ago and the house is officially gone. Note, that I didn't say I sold that too.
Gotta love our economy and the asshats that created it.
Anyhoo...my point is...that I basically have nothing to give anyone this year. I also have little to no funds to assist in my giving anyone anything. I wasn't even going to do Christmas cards this year. And I'm still not, but I am going to blow $8 bucks on one book of stamps.
Don't get me wrong, I got some very nice emails about my previous post as well and quite frankly, the ones that weren't so nice...well...as per my usual bitch attitude...I don't give a rats ass about those ones or what the people that wrote them think about me. The nice ones got me to thinking a little bit though.
So, this year...since I have nothing tangible to give, in the spirit of giving (which is what I like best about the holiday season and why I'm in such a bitchy mood about it)...I'm going to give the only thing I have left to give...good memories.
I'm going to type out little, letters of my favorite individual memories of a select few, tailor made to each person and send them off. I hope, at the very least, that it makes a couple of people smile and laugh.
Not that this is gonna be a great gift to send off because thanks to all the meds, my memory really sucks these days...and the typing...well, as I've said before, the days of a 120+ wpm's are long gone. Hence, I began the chicken pecking yesterday in the hopes that I can actually get them out in a timely manner. And I readily admit, it was nice remembering said events with different people and did indeed bring a smile to my face while typing them.
All that being said, don't be fooled...I'm still pissed, hurt and tired. With the exception of the letters, I still will not bake, celebrate or be merry in any way, shape or form. And even though I hope that my letters bring joy to others...the tired bitch in me, still doesn't want to hear about it.
I may have taken a little "detour" but I'm still going to hell in a handbasket and I still can't get there fast enough.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
"It's beginning to look a lot like Shitmas."
As you may have noticed, I haven't posted the way I used to post. This would be because I just don't feel the same way I used to feel. Well, perhaps that's not the whole truth. I've felt the way I feel now... for awhile now. I'm just really good at hiding it from other people. Keep people busy with witty words and funny stories or serious words about serious causes and they don't think that there's anything wrong, let alone ask...but truth be told, I'm tired. I'm exhausted.
My xmas tree is in a friend's garage, most of my ornaments went to good will last April, the important ornaments I kept are three or four oceans away, I won't be able to be with my daughter, nor will I be able to spend the holidays with R and the boys.
Hence, there will be no shopping. No decorating. No baking. No celebrating Winter Solstice. Nothing. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to do anything. And while the frustrated, tired bitch in me sincerely hopes that everyone else is already having a wonderful holiday season...I just don't want to see anyone else shopping, decorating, baking or celebrating either. The commercials are enough to make me want to slit my wrists every other three minutes as it is.
The last scans I had were almost a year ago...and I don't care. Even if I had money and/or health insurance right now...I wouldn't go to the doctor. In fact, I will go as far to say that even if someone paid the bill and me...I still wouldn't go. I don't want to know anything, anymore. I.Don't.Care.Anymore. I wish, like hell, that I would have found the lump and not done a thing about it. Yep. I really just wrote that. And if ya think that's bad...stop reading and hit the X in the top right corner, 'cause I'm apparently on my way to hell in a handbasket.
Daisy is grown. She's a responsible, contributing member of society. She's fun and fair minded.My job is done.
I've got two other little boys, granted, that aren't mine, but it sure sucks to be missing out on life with them, when we only just barely got started.
And I've got a wonderful, incredible man that I love and that loves me.
I have no doubt whatsoever, about our love for one another.What I doubt, is that life will ever work out and allow us to actually be together again.
I'm sad. I'm beyond pissed. I'm hurt. I'm bitter. And did I mention that I'm tired? And all I want right now, the only thing I really want, is to go to sleep and not wake up. Ever. I do not want to be here anymore. I do not want to do this anymore. I do not want to live this way anymore...and more importantly, I don't want the people I love to have to keep living the way they're living because of me anymore. It breaks my heart, that it breaks their heart, when they feel like they can't help me in some way...when they've already done so very, very much.
And each morning I wake up. Disappointed. Again. I don't feel like I'm living. I feel like all I'm doing is existing...waking up every day and breathing.
Meanwhile...A happily married, mother of three lost her battle with cancer yesterday. Fifteen days before xmas...a happily married, mother of three lost her battle with cancer yesterday. WTF? Why did this woman have to lose her battle? It's bullshit.
Now before anyone gets their panties (sorry Beej) in a twist...I'm okay. I know typing what I typed, doesn't sound like I'm okay, but I am. I'm an adult. A level-headed, responsible, sane adult. I have no intention of hurting myself or taking my life in any form or fashion. I would never...ever...do that to my daughter or the other people that care about me. Got it? I hope so.
I'm okay. I'm not looking for sympathy or anything else. In fact, I'm going to close the comments after I'm done with this because I'm not here looking for comments. And I sure as hell don't want to hear anything about someone else's g-ds plan for me. I'm thrilled that you have your g-d and that you believe everything you believe and that all of that makes you feel better, safer, whatever...and you're my family and I love you...but I do not want to hear anything that remotely has to do with your g-d and I, in relations to one another. I typed what I typed to get it all out of my head. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And don't sit there and think that I don't know I'm a heel. The three kids are healthy. R is healthy. The rest of my family and friends are all healthy.
I know that I'm lucky. I know that I should be way more thankful than I obviously am. I know that there are millions of people that are far, far worse off than I am right now.
I know. I suck.
Like I said... I'm going to hell in a handbasket. I just can't seem to get there fast enough.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
"Sit down Christian."
- The Real Live Preacher
A friend passed this on to me and although you all know I am not religious...I felt the overwhelming need to pass it forward. It's from a guy known as "The Real Live Preacher." If you want to learn more about him, check out his website at www.reallivepreacher.com. (I'm amazed that he is a BAPTIST!)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sit down Christian. You cannot wave your unread Bible and scare me because I know the larger story that runs through it beginning to end. I'm trying to resist the temptation to snatch it from your hands and beat you with it.
I am your worst nightmare, a Texas preacher who knows the good book better than you do. Show me your scriptures. Show me how you justify condemning homosexual people.
Show me what you got, Christian. The Sodom story? That story is about people who wanted to commit a brutal rape. Let's all say it together, "God doesn't like rape". You could have listened to your heart and learned that, Christian. Move on. What else you got?
A passage from Leviticus? Are you kidding me? Are you prepared to adhere to the whole Levitical code of behavior? No? Then why would you expect others to? Move on. What else?
Two passages - two verses from Romans and one from I Corinthians. There you stand, your justification for a worldwide campaign of hatred written on two limp pieces of paper. Have you looked closely at these passages? Do you understand their context and original language? I could show you why you don't have much, but there is something more important you need to see.
Come with me to the church cellar. Come now and don't delay. I am shaking with anger and fighting the urge to grab you by the collar and drag you down these steps.
You didn't know the church had a cellar? Oh yes, every church does. Down, down we go into the darkness. Don't slip on the flagstone and never mind the heat.
There, do you see the iron furnace door, gaping open? Do you see the roaring flames? Do you see the huge man with glistening muscles, covered with soot? Do you see him feeding the fire as fast as can with his massive, scooped shovel?
He feeds these flames with the Bible, with every book, chapter, and verse that American Christians must ignore to support our bloated lifestyles, our selfishness, our materialism, our love of power, our neglect of the poor, our support of injustice, our nationalism, and our pride.
See how frantically he works? Time is short, and he has much to burn. The prophets, the Shema, whole sections of Matthew, most of Luke, the entire book of James.
Your blessed 10 commandments? Why would you want to post them on courtroom walls when you've burned them in your own cellar?
Do you see? DO YOU SEE?
Do you see how we rip, tear, and burn scripture to justify our lives?
The heat from this cursed furnace rises up and warms the complacent worshippers in the pews above. The soot from the fire blackens our stained glass so that we may not see out and no one wants to see in.
Do you smell the reek of this injustice? It is a stink in the nostrils of the very living God. We are dressed in beautiful clothes and we wear pretty smiles, but we stink of this blasphemous hypocrisy.
Every church in America - mine not excepted - has a cellar like this. We must shovel 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, because every chapter and book we ignore must be burned to warm our comfy pews.
Our souls are stained from this biblical holocaust, but somehow these two scraps of scripture mean all the world to you.
You swallow whole camels, and now you're gagging on a gnat? When did you ever give a shit about what the Bible has to say?
Sit down Christian. Sit down and be you silent.
How long has it been since you forgot that we were called to walk the earth as pilgrims? Do you not remember when he told us to give our coats to those in need and sell our possessions to help the poor? Did you forget how the first church had all things in common so that none would lack.
Did you forget the day He told us that whatever we did for the oppressed we did for Him, and whatever we withheld from them was kept from Him as well?
Sit down, Christian. You have not earned the right to speak to this generation. The right to speak is earned with love.
Take back your bible. Take it back and start reading it. Fall in love again with Jesus. Sell what you must and walk the earth. Let your love be astonishing and people may one day listen to your words.
Even now you might be saved. Our God is merciful and forgiveness awaits.
The Real Live Preacher
- The Real Live Preacher
A friend passed this on to me and although you all know I am not religious...I felt the overwhelming need to pass it forward. It's from a guy known as "The Real Live Preacher." If you want to learn more about him, check out his website at www.reallivepreacher.com. (I'm amazed that he is a BAPTIST!)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sit down Christian. You cannot wave your unread Bible and scare me because I know the larger story that runs through it beginning to end. I'm trying to resist the temptation to snatch it from your hands and beat you with it.
I am your worst nightmare, a Texas preacher who knows the good book better than you do. Show me your scriptures. Show me how you justify condemning homosexual people.
Show me what you got, Christian. The Sodom story? That story is about people who wanted to commit a brutal rape. Let's all say it together, "God doesn't like rape". You could have listened to your heart and learned that, Christian. Move on. What else you got?
A passage from Leviticus? Are you kidding me? Are you prepared to adhere to the whole Levitical code of behavior? No? Then why would you expect others to? Move on. What else?
Two passages - two verses from Romans and one from I Corinthians. There you stand, your justification for a worldwide campaign of hatred written on two limp pieces of paper. Have you looked closely at these passages? Do you understand their context and original language? I could show you why you don't have much, but there is something more important you need to see.
Come with me to the church cellar. Come now and don't delay. I am shaking with anger and fighting the urge to grab you by the collar and drag you down these steps.
You didn't know the church had a cellar? Oh yes, every church does. Down, down we go into the darkness. Don't slip on the flagstone and never mind the heat.
There, do you see the iron furnace door, gaping open? Do you see the roaring flames? Do you see the huge man with glistening muscles, covered with soot? Do you see him feeding the fire as fast as can with his massive, scooped shovel?
He feeds these flames with the Bible, with every book, chapter, and verse that American Christians must ignore to support our bloated lifestyles, our selfishness, our materialism, our love of power, our neglect of the poor, our support of injustice, our nationalism, and our pride.
See how frantically he works? Time is short, and he has much to burn. The prophets, the Shema, whole sections of Matthew, most of Luke, the entire book of James.
Your blessed 10 commandments? Why would you want to post them on courtroom walls when you've burned them in your own cellar?
Do you see? DO YOU SEE?
Do you see how we rip, tear, and burn scripture to justify our lives?
The heat from this cursed furnace rises up and warms the complacent worshippers in the pews above. The soot from the fire blackens our stained glass so that we may not see out and no one wants to see in.
Do you smell the reek of this injustice? It is a stink in the nostrils of the very living God. We are dressed in beautiful clothes and we wear pretty smiles, but we stink of this blasphemous hypocrisy.
Every church in America - mine not excepted - has a cellar like this. We must shovel 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, because every chapter and book we ignore must be burned to warm our comfy pews.
Our souls are stained from this biblical holocaust, but somehow these two scraps of scripture mean all the world to you.
You swallow whole camels, and now you're gagging on a gnat? When did you ever give a shit about what the Bible has to say?
Sit down Christian. Sit down and be you silent.
How long has it been since you forgot that we were called to walk the earth as pilgrims? Do you not remember when he told us to give our coats to those in need and sell our possessions to help the poor? Did you forget how the first church had all things in common so that none would lack.
Did you forget the day He told us that whatever we did for the oppressed we did for Him, and whatever we withheld from them was kept from Him as well?
Sit down, Christian. You have not earned the right to speak to this generation. The right to speak is earned with love.
Take back your bible. Take it back and start reading it. Fall in love again with Jesus. Sell what you must and walk the earth. Let your love be astonishing and people may one day listen to your words.
Even now you might be saved. Our God is merciful and forgiveness awaits.
The Real Live Preacher
Saturday, November 1, 2008
"Hatred comes from the heart; contempt from the head; and neither feeling is quite within our control."
- Arnold Schopenhauer
Rarely do I use the word 'hate'.
Okay, that's not totally true.
I use if often when I see or hear about children and animals being mistreated in any manner.
Oh, and whenever stupid people cross my path.
But right now... there are aspects of October that I'm starting to hate as well.
It's great that breast cancer awareness has an entire month dedicated to it, but I'm sick to death of seeing celebrities on shows talk about it.
Specifically, those that have had it, with the only exception being Melissa Ethridge because she's the only one thus far that I've heard really speak about her experience and all that it entails...not to mention, I feel although she's a celebrity and financially wealthy, she still relates to those people that aren't celebrities and/or financially wealthy.
I'm sick of hearing the other celebrities go on and on about how great America is because every woman with breast cancer has "a team of doctors" and how they've come so far and "it's all about the journey." And my personal, latest favorite one of, "the minute you're diagnosed, you're a survivor."
It's hard to believe that I and other women have news for an effing anchorwoman...but guess what Miss Missy...not every woman with breast cancer has a "team of doctors"...some don't even have health insurance, let alone a "team of doctors". And it may have been "all about the journey" for you...but for some of us, it's a craptastic journey that we'd sooner forget and yet still have to travel on a daily effing basis.
As for "the minute you're diagnosed, you're a survivor"...well some of us don't feel like we've "survived" an effing thing.
You may still have healthcare, great doctors, financial security and your effing mansion...but there are women all over the United States that have lost their jobs and healthcare... that don't have doctors anymore (if they even had one in the first place)...women that have lost their financial security and their home. Women that have damn near lost everything, if not most of everything. Women that are forced to choose between their meds/treatment or buying food for their children or trying to keep a roof over their head. Women that don't have the satisfaction and/or security of having regular scans to insure that their cancer is being held at bay, for lack of a better word, due to lack of funds.
Which begs the question, when you've lost (or have been forced to give up) everything...what exactly is it that they/we have survived??
My guess, is that if you ever took the effing time to temporarily exit the secure, little (and when I write "little", I mean effing little) world you live in...and remember the real world from whence you probably came...you wouldn't go on national television and spew the shit you spew...all the while pretending that the world most of us live in, doesn't effing exist.
This is not to say that I'd rather you not spread the word about breast cancer awareness, utilizing the 'medium' that lays at your feet...but for the love of what's right and the sake of those that don't have that same 'medium' laying at our feet, and all that comes with it...please stop forcefully shoveling crap at us.
Some women may not have food and/or the money to buy food...but they sure as hell don't want to eat crap either.
Granted, we know your immediate reaction to what I've written above will probably be and/or is...but you've survived! You're still alive! You're still able to be around the people you love and that love you! You have to keep fighting!
Here's another news flash for ya:
The "fighting", you speak so bravely about it...
Yep...we're all warriors, the minute we're diagnosed. Every one of us feels that 'fire in our belly'. We don't put on "a brave face"....we have a brave face...and a will of steel.
We plan not only on fighting, but fighting with every thing we have...not only for ourselves, but more importantly for the ones that we love and that love us.
Then, some of us (read; not you), are smacked squarely in the face...by reality. The medical bills start adding up. Health Insurance Companies, doctors and diagnostic clinics refuse service until "deductibles" are paid up. Employers get sick of paying other employees overtime in the affected employee's absence. At which time, employer's "let" the affected employee "go". This, of course, eventually leads to people having to choose between COBRA insurance premiums and/or their mortgage/rent, among other bills. Employer related disability pays half or less of a typical income and trying to get on Social Security Disability seems to only work reasonably fast, for those that don't really need it in the first place. Then the regular bills start adding up. Then the people, the ones you love and care about, the same ones that love and care about you...and even the banks and utility companies that have done everything in their power to "work with you, given your circumstances"...the ones that have so graciously helped you in any/every way possible...they start getting tapped out...and you start feeling like a greater imposition, than when they first started helping you. And you start to see the effects of them and your children "going without". And don't even get me started about when and how Uncle Sam doesn't give a rats ass if you can't pay your income tax and/or personal property taxes.
Yes, that's right...you and I may very well live in the same United States, but we also live in two completely different worlds.
In the real world, when one is not a celebrity and/or doesn't have a million plus dollars in one's bank account...Insurance companies, Social Security, etc... tend to string people along and deny anything/everything for as long as humanly possible... banking on one's death, so as to never have to help at all.
In the real world, Uncle Sam and debt collector's work solely to spare people from a long, drawn out, painful death due to cancer or any/all other diseases...so that they can bleed you dry quickly instead.
Don't get me wrong...there is and always will be a part of us, that is thankful and grateful to still be alive and to still be a part of the lives of the people we love and care about and that love and care about/for us.
However, unbeknownst to you...
It gets harder and harder with every passing day, to be grateful for still being alive in a world that's seemingly falling down all around you and more importantly, falling down around your children and the others you love.
It's no easy task to hang on to the will to live, when one isn't really living. Not living normally, so to speak.
It's difficult, to spend day after day in great pain, sick and exhausted from being sick and in pain and worrying about one's health that may or may not be monitored because of financial restraints.
Add to that, the worry about every day financial issues and you have someone that's favorite part of the day to look forward to... is sleeping, because often times...that's the only ''peace" they know. Then when one actually gets in bed to go to sleep, a small part of them hopes and wishes that they don't in fact wake up the next day because they know it will be yet another day filled with pain, sickness, worry and disappointment.
Now compound all of the above with the feeling of guilt. The guilt that one feels because they know there are still people in the world that have it worse than they do, so they feel like they shouldn't even have any thoughts of complaining, let alone actually complaining. The guilty feeling that even though they know they are not materialistic in way, shape or form...life has made it abundantly clear that money is exactly what it takes to alleviate a majority of life's problems, difficulties, issues and worries. The guilty feeling that yes, there are days when one can double up on their meds and have good days...and live somewhat normally by going out and about, or to special occasions and family gatherings...and there are also still all of the "little things" in life that make us smile or laugh on a daily basis...but the "good" days are few and far between compared to the typical 'everyday' that is filled with sickness, pain, stress and worry.
Now top all of that off with the sprinkle of fear. Fear that things will never be normal again. Fear that one will never be able to financially recover from this journey that "it's all about." Fear about how the effects of being financially ruined will affect one's children, their well-being and their college education. Fear about how long it will adversely affect one's children in the long run in general. The fear that life is simultaneously standing still and flying by all at the same time. Fear about feeling like your holding others back and/or dragging them down with you. Fear about coming to terms with that little piece of you that believes that everyone just might be better off without you and all of the baggage that comes with you period.
The fear about 'what if'. What if things do get better or start to get better and the Big C rears it's ugly head again. What then?
There's no easy answer to "What then?"...but I can assure you that whatever the answer may be in your world Ms. Anchorwoman...it will be a drastically different answer and pale in comparison to the answer that awaits those of us in the real world.
- Arnold Schopenhauer
Rarely do I use the word 'hate'.
Okay, that's not totally true.
I use if often when I see or hear about children and animals being mistreated in any manner.
Oh, and whenever stupid people cross my path.
But right now... there are aspects of October that I'm starting to hate as well.
It's great that breast cancer awareness has an entire month dedicated to it, but I'm sick to death of seeing celebrities on shows talk about it.
Specifically, those that have had it, with the only exception being Melissa Ethridge because she's the only one thus far that I've heard really speak about her experience and all that it entails...not to mention, I feel although she's a celebrity and financially wealthy, she still relates to those people that aren't celebrities and/or financially wealthy.
I'm sick of hearing the other celebrities go on and on about how great America is because every woman with breast cancer has "a team of doctors" and how they've come so far and "it's all about the journey." And my personal, latest favorite one of, "the minute you're diagnosed, you're a survivor."
It's hard to believe that I and other women have news for an effing anchorwoman...but guess what Miss Missy...not every woman with breast cancer has a "team of doctors"...some don't even have health insurance, let alone a "team of doctors". And it may have been "all about the journey" for you...but for some of us, it's a craptastic journey that we'd sooner forget and yet still have to travel on a daily effing basis.
As for "the minute you're diagnosed, you're a survivor"...well some of us don't feel like we've "survived" an effing thing.
You may still have healthcare, great doctors, financial security and your effing mansion...but there are women all over the United States that have lost their jobs and healthcare... that don't have doctors anymore (if they even had one in the first place)...women that have lost their financial security and their home. Women that have damn near lost everything, if not most of everything. Women that are forced to choose between their meds/treatment or buying food for their children or trying to keep a roof over their head. Women that don't have the satisfaction and/or security of having regular scans to insure that their cancer is being held at bay, for lack of a better word, due to lack of funds.
Which begs the question, when you've lost (or have been forced to give up) everything...what exactly is it that they/we have survived??
My guess, is that if you ever took the effing time to temporarily exit the secure, little (and when I write "little", I mean effing little) world you live in...and remember the real world from whence you probably came...you wouldn't go on national television and spew the shit you spew...all the while pretending that the world most of us live in, doesn't effing exist.
This is not to say that I'd rather you not spread the word about breast cancer awareness, utilizing the 'medium' that lays at your feet...but for the love of what's right and the sake of those that don't have that same 'medium' laying at our feet, and all that comes with it...please stop forcefully shoveling crap at us.
Some women may not have food and/or the money to buy food...but they sure as hell don't want to eat crap either.
Granted, we know your immediate reaction to what I've written above will probably be and/or is...but you've survived! You're still alive! You're still able to be around the people you love and that love you! You have to keep fighting!
Here's another news flash for ya:
The "fighting", you speak so bravely about it...
Yep...we're all warriors, the minute we're diagnosed. Every one of us feels that 'fire in our belly'. We don't put on "a brave face"....we have a brave face...and a will of steel.
We plan not only on fighting, but fighting with every thing we have...not only for ourselves, but more importantly for the ones that we love and that love us.
Then, some of us (read; not you), are smacked squarely in the face...by reality. The medical bills start adding up. Health Insurance Companies, doctors and diagnostic clinics refuse service until "deductibles" are paid up. Employers get sick of paying other employees overtime in the affected employee's absence. At which time, employer's "let" the affected employee "go". This, of course, eventually leads to people having to choose between COBRA insurance premiums and/or their mortgage/rent, among other bills. Employer related disability pays half or less of a typical income and trying to get on Social Security Disability seems to only work reasonably fast, for those that don't really need it in the first place. Then the regular bills start adding up. Then the people, the ones you love and care about, the same ones that love and care about you...and even the banks and utility companies that have done everything in their power to "work with you, given your circumstances"...the ones that have so graciously helped you in any/every way possible...they start getting tapped out...and you start feeling like a greater imposition, than when they first started helping you. And you start to see the effects of them and your children "going without". And don't even get me started about when and how Uncle Sam doesn't give a rats ass if you can't pay your income tax and/or personal property taxes.
Yes, that's right...you and I may very well live in the same United States, but we also live in two completely different worlds.
In the real world, when one is not a celebrity and/or doesn't have a million plus dollars in one's bank account...Insurance companies, Social Security, etc... tend to string people along and deny anything/everything for as long as humanly possible... banking on one's death, so as to never have to help at all.
In the real world, Uncle Sam and debt collector's work solely to spare people from a long, drawn out, painful death due to cancer or any/all other diseases...so that they can bleed you dry quickly instead.
Don't get me wrong...there is and always will be a part of us, that is thankful and grateful to still be alive and to still be a part of the lives of the people we love and care about and that love and care about/for us.
However, unbeknownst to you...
It gets harder and harder with every passing day, to be grateful for still being alive in a world that's seemingly falling down all around you and more importantly, falling down around your children and the others you love.
It's no easy task to hang on to the will to live, when one isn't really living. Not living normally, so to speak.
It's difficult, to spend day after day in great pain, sick and exhausted from being sick and in pain and worrying about one's health that may or may not be monitored because of financial restraints.
Add to that, the worry about every day financial issues and you have someone that's favorite part of the day to look forward to... is sleeping, because often times...that's the only ''peace" they know. Then when one actually gets in bed to go to sleep, a small part of them hopes and wishes that they don't in fact wake up the next day because they know it will be yet another day filled with pain, sickness, worry and disappointment.
Now compound all of the above with the feeling of guilt. The guilt that one feels because they know there are still people in the world that have it worse than they do, so they feel like they shouldn't even have any thoughts of complaining, let alone actually complaining. The guilty feeling that even though they know they are not materialistic in way, shape or form...life has made it abundantly clear that money is exactly what it takes to alleviate a majority of life's problems, difficulties, issues and worries. The guilty feeling that yes, there are days when one can double up on their meds and have good days...and live somewhat normally by going out and about, or to special occasions and family gatherings...and there are also still all of the "little things" in life that make us smile or laugh on a daily basis...but the "good" days are few and far between compared to the typical 'everyday' that is filled with sickness, pain, stress and worry.
Now top all of that off with the sprinkle of fear. Fear that things will never be normal again. Fear that one will never be able to financially recover from this journey that "it's all about." Fear about how the effects of being financially ruined will affect one's children, their well-being and their college education. Fear about how long it will adversely affect one's children in the long run in general. The fear that life is simultaneously standing still and flying by all at the same time. Fear about feeling like your holding others back and/or dragging them down with you. Fear about coming to terms with that little piece of you that believes that everyone just might be better off without you and all of the baggage that comes with you period.
The fear about 'what if'. What if things do get better or start to get better and the Big C rears it's ugly head again. What then?
There's no easy answer to "What then?"...but I can assure you that whatever the answer may be in your world Ms. Anchorwoman...it will be a drastically different answer and pale in comparison to the answer that awaits those of us in the real world.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
"The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next."
-Ursula K. LeGuin
I hate uncertainty.
So, short story...
Took forever to get into my doctor's in Dubai. Once I was able to do so, they switched some of my meds. Said meds made me really, really sick. So sick, that I ended up in the hospital due to severe dehydration. During this time, my visit visa expired.
Used to be that people would take a day trip to Kisch Island, return to Dubai and renew their visit visa while waiting for a residence visa. As of August 1st, the law changed, requiring people to return to their country of origin. Hence, the reason I'm back in the states.
Upon arriving back in the states, I went from the airport to a hospital for dehydration again.
Feeling better now, back on my most of meds.
No definite date of when I will return to Dubai. Might be December at the latest. A's g-d I hope not that long.
Although we Skype as often as possible, I miss TheRammerHammer and the boys and MobyLover something fierce.
Friends are keeping me busy, having fun when we can...I feel very lucky and grateful to have so many people care about me.
Thanks for all the kind thoughts!
Hope all is well with everyone:)
-Ursula K. LeGuin
I hate uncertainty.
So, short story...
Took forever to get into my doctor's in Dubai. Once I was able to do so, they switched some of my meds. Said meds made me really, really sick. So sick, that I ended up in the hospital due to severe dehydration. During this time, my visit visa expired.
Used to be that people would take a day trip to Kisch Island, return to Dubai and renew their visit visa while waiting for a residence visa. As of August 1st, the law changed, requiring people to return to their country of origin. Hence, the reason I'm back in the states.
Upon arriving back in the states, I went from the airport to a hospital for dehydration again.
Feeling better now, back on my most of meds.
No definite date of when I will return to Dubai. Might be December at the latest. A's g-d I hope not that long.
Although we Skype as often as possible, I miss TheRammerHammer and the boys and MobyLover something fierce.
Friends are keeping me busy, having fun when we can...I feel very lucky and grateful to have so many people care about me.
Thanks for all the kind thoughts!
Hope all is well with everyone:)
Thursday, August 21, 2008
"You can't pay enough money to...cure that feeling of being broken and confused."
~ Winona Ryder
Due to visa problems and health issues, I'm back in the states.
Some wonderful friends have opened up their home to me and I know that the words "thank you" will never be enough.
Although it's great to be able to come back and see all the people and animals that I dearly love and missed...
The words "broken and confused" don't even begin to describe how I feel.
Probably won't be blogging much after this.
I'm numb and for the first time in my life...at a loss for words.
~ Winona Ryder
Due to visa problems and health issues, I'm back in the states.
Some wonderful friends have opened up their home to me and I know that the words "thank you" will never be enough.
Although it's great to be able to come back and see all the people and animals that I dearly love and missed...
The words "broken and confused" don't even begin to describe how I feel.
Probably won't be blogging much after this.
I'm numb and for the first time in my life...at a loss for words.
Friday, August 1, 2008
"Depression: Some say it's 'anger turned inward'. For me, it's always been a 'silent scream outward."
Know what the difference between not wanting children/any more children is and not being able to have/have anymore children is?
Depression.
That's what.
Doctor's appointment went as per usual.
Tests came back okay.
Prescriptions turned out to be tricky, but got straightened out in the end.
Sorry I haven't posted since then. I know some of you were worried and I did get a couple of your emails asking as much back then...but I've been down.
I've only been near the computer a couple of times since then, to speak with Daisy.
Otherwise...that's it.
Haven't been in the mood to speak with people.
Not sleeping well, to say the least and lot's of crazy thoughts going 'round and 'round my head these days.
The kid thing has me bummed out. To say the least.
I know it's irrational, but I've been racking my brain, trying to figure out what to hell it was that I must have done in my past, that has made me deserve everything that's happened since being diagnosed on June 10, 2005.
I've considered myself to be a pretty good person.
I'm honest. Almost to a fault.
I try to always do the right thing.
I may think bad thoughts from time to time, but I keep 'Evil Peggy' at bay and never act upon the aforemention bad thoughts and usually just wish a bad case of butt acne on people instead of whatever bad thought I had in my head.
Thought I was a pretty darn good parent to boot.
My kid has had her up's and down's, as all kids do.
But, she's honest...sometimes to a fault. She's fair and compassionate. And I believe that she is and always will be a contributing member of society.
Yet here I sit, not allowed to have anymore.
And some young, or old twit, whichever, is sitting somewhere right now, having her third or fourth one...not because she wants the kid...nope...because she wants the welfare check.
Yep...that's one of my bad thoughts.
And then I think...who am I kidding? Besides myself, of course.
What was I thinking?
Wanting more children?!?!
I haven't been able to 100% take care of myself since being diagnosed.
I'm 39 years old now and I still can't take care of myself.
In addition to not being able to take care of myself...there are some days when I can't even get out of bed. And I literally wouldn't...if R wasn't here to help me out and help me around or just scoop me up and put me where I need to be.
There are some nights, when I literally sit at or lay next to the toilet all night long.
And *I* wanted more children?
What a fool am I.
I feel like the pregnancy back in October of last year...the one that beat all the odds...when I was supposed to be in menopause and unable to even get pregnant...
Yeah.
That was just a carrot...a carrot, dangled in front of my face.
One to give me hope...just to be squashed when it didn't come to fruitation so quickly, so to speak.
And to make matters even worse...here I now sit, grieving for a child that never will be.
You know...one that doesn't exist now and never will.
What a fool am I, indeed.
And to take it one step further...riddle me this... if you think you can.
And think long and hard about your answer...because right off the bat...I know by instinct what your first instinctive answer will be.
But give it some thought...think about if *you* were really in the same situation, what would your answer be???
They say real love is being with the person you want to spend the rest of your life with...in good times and bad...in sickness and health...for richer and for poorer and yada, yada, yada.
But what about if the bad times are because of you...your bad health...a bad health that costs gobs and gobs of money? Money that's theoretically taken away from your children? Money that they could use now or may need in the future?
Is real love staying with the person that's decided to stay with you in the bad times, your bad sickness...that causes the poorer instead of the richer times to be often if not always?
Even though you know that if the roles were reversed...you'd stay with them and take care of them, in the bad times and sick times...no matter the cost...etc, etc.
Or is real love, on your part, being the sick one, costing gobs and gobs of money...really being strong enough, to be able to walk away...and spare that person, and your children... the burden of it all?
Know what the difference between not wanting children/any more children is and not being able to have/have anymore children is?
Depression.
That's what.
Doctor's appointment went as per usual.
Tests came back okay.
Prescriptions turned out to be tricky, but got straightened out in the end.
Sorry I haven't posted since then. I know some of you were worried and I did get a couple of your emails asking as much back then...but I've been down.
I've only been near the computer a couple of times since then, to speak with Daisy.
Otherwise...that's it.
Haven't been in the mood to speak with people.
Not sleeping well, to say the least and lot's of crazy thoughts going 'round and 'round my head these days.
The kid thing has me bummed out. To say the least.
I know it's irrational, but I've been racking my brain, trying to figure out what to hell it was that I must have done in my past, that has made me deserve everything that's happened since being diagnosed on June 10, 2005.
I've considered myself to be a pretty good person.
I'm honest. Almost to a fault.
I try to always do the right thing.
I may think bad thoughts from time to time, but I keep 'Evil Peggy' at bay and never act upon the aforemention bad thoughts and usually just wish a bad case of butt acne on people instead of whatever bad thought I had in my head.
Thought I was a pretty darn good parent to boot.
My kid has had her up's and down's, as all kids do.
But, she's honest...sometimes to a fault. She's fair and compassionate. And I believe that she is and always will be a contributing member of society.
Yet here I sit, not allowed to have anymore.
And some young, or old twit, whichever, is sitting somewhere right now, having her third or fourth one...not because she wants the kid...nope...because she wants the welfare check.
Yep...that's one of my bad thoughts.
And then I think...who am I kidding? Besides myself, of course.
What was I thinking?
Wanting more children?!?!
I haven't been able to 100% take care of myself since being diagnosed.
I'm 39 years old now and I still can't take care of myself.
In addition to not being able to take care of myself...there are some days when I can't even get out of bed. And I literally wouldn't...if R wasn't here to help me out and help me around or just scoop me up and put me where I need to be.
There are some nights, when I literally sit at or lay next to the toilet all night long.
And *I* wanted more children?
What a fool am I.
I feel like the pregnancy back in October of last year...the one that beat all the odds...when I was supposed to be in menopause and unable to even get pregnant...
Yeah.
That was just a carrot...a carrot, dangled in front of my face.
One to give me hope...just to be squashed when it didn't come to fruitation so quickly, so to speak.
And to make matters even worse...here I now sit, grieving for a child that never will be.
You know...one that doesn't exist now and never will.
What a fool am I, indeed.
And to take it one step further...riddle me this... if you think you can.
And think long and hard about your answer...because right off the bat...I know by instinct what your first instinctive answer will be.
But give it some thought...think about if *you* were really in the same situation, what would your answer be???
They say real love is being with the person you want to spend the rest of your life with...in good times and bad...in sickness and health...for richer and for poorer and yada, yada, yada.
But what about if the bad times are because of you...your bad health...a bad health that costs gobs and gobs of money? Money that's theoretically taken away from your children? Money that they could use now or may need in the future?
Is real love staying with the person that's decided to stay with you in the bad times, your bad sickness...that causes the poorer instead of the richer times to be often if not always?
Even though you know that if the roles were reversed...you'd stay with them and take care of them, in the bad times and sick times...no matter the cost...etc, etc.
Or is real love, on your part, being the sick one, costing gobs and gobs of money...really being strong enough, to be able to walk away...and spare that person, and your children... the burden of it all?
Saturday, July 5, 2008
"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad."
~ T.S. Eliot
So...I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow.
Blech.
I don't know what sucks more...
The anticipation of a doctor's appointment or the waiting for results afterwards.
I've probably written about this before on my blog.
If I have...and you're bored with it...here's your fries, please drive thru.
First and foremost, you try to stay positive.
And everyone tells you to be positive.
Stay positive.
Blah, blah, blah.
It's easier said than done.
And I don't mean to sound like a bitch...but it's really easy to say when you haven't been given a life-long pass as a club member.
I know...people are just trying to be supportive.
Which is why I always just nod and say"Thank you, I am."
Truth be told, you can be positive until you're pooping positivity right out your ass...but there's always that little back corner of your mind that's wondering, 'Hmmm, wonder if I'll be doing chemo in a week or two?'
And it sucks.
Ass.
And it's not like the wondering stops.
To coin one of my favorite quotes E.V.E.R.:
"Like 7-11. They're not always doin' business...but they're always open."
Yep.
That's what the wondering is like.
At least it is for me.
Thus far.
Ya can't call yourself a survivor until the 5 year mark.
TheRammerHammer had me laughing so much...that I missed my 3 year diagnosis anniversary back in June.
Something cancer re-lated came up a couple of days later which reminded me.
I mean it's not like you really, really are able to totally forget.
At least I'm not.
Because I'm still fighting the urge to not be the normal that I used to be.
The old me.
Which I know only proves that I'm crazy.
Because it's pointless to fight.
I'm reminded in a dozen different ways every, single day that I'll never be her again.
The pain.
The nasuea and puking.
The swelling-neuropathy hands and feet.
The short term memory.
The wrinkles I shouldn't have yet damnit!!!!
The nasty metal taste still in my mouth.
Everyday I wake up, I wonder when or if it will ever end.
Some of my card carrying friends have told me it takes time, some have said that it depends on the type of chemo one has and some say it hasn't ever ended for them.
I think I would be okay...not great...but okay if it was some kind of trade-off.
I'd be willing take all of the above if I knew I wouldn't have the stress and worry about impending doctor appointments and the anxeity of waiting for test results afterwards ever again.
Ya know? If I could just get a guar-an-tee that it would never, ever come back again.
And then I feel like a schmuck for complaing about my complaints out loud.
When others I know are actually going through it all over again already.
Which leads to the other back, dark corner of my mind that wonders, 'Is one ever truly able to let down their guard at some point?"
I fear that answer.
So for now..."My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad."
Sigh.
I hope everyone is well and nerve free.
P.S. ~ Ladies...if 'tough love' doesn't work with your man...try 'tuft love'.
Heh heh.
~ T.S. Eliot
So...I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow.
Blech.
I don't know what sucks more...
The anticipation of a doctor's appointment or the waiting for results afterwards.
I've probably written about this before on my blog.
If I have...and you're bored with it...here's your fries, please drive thru.
First and foremost, you try to stay positive.
And everyone tells you to be positive.
Stay positive.
Blah, blah, blah.
It's easier said than done.
And I don't mean to sound like a bitch...but it's really easy to say when you haven't been given a life-long pass as a club member.
I know...people are just trying to be supportive.
Which is why I always just nod and say"Thank you, I am."
Truth be told, you can be positive until you're pooping positivity right out your ass...but there's always that little back corner of your mind that's wondering, 'Hmmm, wonder if I'll be doing chemo in a week or two?'
And it sucks.
Ass.
And it's not like the wondering stops.
To coin one of my favorite quotes E.V.E.R.:
"Like 7-11. They're not always doin' business...but they're always open."
Yep.
That's what the wondering is like.
At least it is for me.
Thus far.
Ya can't call yourself a survivor until the 5 year mark.
TheRammerHammer had me laughing so much...that I missed my 3 year diagnosis anniversary back in June.
Something cancer re-lated came up a couple of days later which reminded me.
I mean it's not like you really, really are able to totally forget.
At least I'm not.
Because I'm still fighting the urge to not be the normal that I used to be.
The old me.
Which I know only proves that I'm crazy.
Because it's pointless to fight.
I'm reminded in a dozen different ways every, single day that I'll never be her again.
The pain.
The nasuea and puking.
The swelling-neuropathy hands and feet.
The short term memory.
The wrinkles I shouldn't have yet damnit!!!!
The nasty metal taste still in my mouth.
Everyday I wake up, I wonder when or if it will ever end.
Some of my card carrying friends have told me it takes time, some have said that it depends on the type of chemo one has and some say it hasn't ever ended for them.
I think I would be okay...not great...but okay if it was some kind of trade-off.
I'd be willing take all of the above if I knew I wouldn't have the stress and worry about impending doctor appointments and the anxeity of waiting for test results afterwards ever again.
Ya know? If I could just get a guar-an-tee that it would never, ever come back again.
And then I feel like a schmuck for complaing about my complaints out loud.
When others I know are actually going through it all over again already.
Which leads to the other back, dark corner of my mind that wonders, 'Is one ever truly able to let down their guard at some point?"
I fear that answer.
So for now..."My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad."
Sigh.
I hope everyone is well and nerve free.
P.S. ~ Ladies...if 'tough love' doesn't work with your man...try 'tuft love'.
Heh heh.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
"To dare every day to be irreverent and bold. To dare to preserve the randomness of mind, which in children produces strange and wonderful new thoughts and forms. To continually scramble the familiar and bring the old into new juxtaposition."
~ Gordon Webber
Okay...yeah...so the point of the quote is that this post is going to be loooonnnng...and full of randomness.
So grab a cup of coffee and get comfortable.
Oh...and you might wanna keep some wet-wipes handy...either that or don't take a sip of coffee prior to reading my Dumb-Ass-Medicine-Move-Of-The-Day.
Comprende'?
Good.
So, when I thought about this post, I originally thought I would begin with the good news about my first International Rescue/Foster Kitty...and about what a wonderful, little kitty he is...
This is Neo:
He's about a year old. Beautiful, shiny, healthy coat of fur. He was very afraid and confused the first few days and hid under the couch, coming out at night to eat and go potty.
Since I'm up and down at all hours of the night on most nights, I began to sit on the couch and 'meow', or in his case, "Mow-Mow" back and forth with him for 10-15 minutes at a time before going back to bed...thus winning his trust that I'm actually a safe, okay human that meant him no harm.
On third day, he finally ventured onto my lap and we had a good petting/purring session. (Him...not me...that comes later. Heh heh.)
Anyhoo, I quickly determined that he's essentially a lapcat...trapped in a scaredy cats body.
Hopefully, I can break him of this.
But, yeah....he's cute...loving...playful:
He figured out that Moby is a cool dog and also means him no harm:
Yep...all was going well...in fact...it couldn't have been going better...
Until this:
Go ahead...click on the next one to enlarge it and take a look at allllllll the tiny little specks on the tile:
I had already cleaned the kitchen floor, which was COVERED, and then thought of the camera...but the hallway was still a helluva mess...yes...the mess continued well into the hallway and to the front door.
Yeah. Those little specks...are chocolate cake.
Apparently, he doesn't like to eat chocolate cake at midnight...but he likes to counter-surf and knock it to the floor.... and then have a rousing game of soccer, wherein he plays every conceivable position, thus whittling the cake down to mere crumbs.
Luckily...the MobyLover was locked in the bedroom with us, thus insuring his innocence from conspiracy and/or from being framed by the cat of course.
Little schmuck. It's a good thing I love cats and rescuing them at all hours of the day. Particularly, at 6am in the morning...when chocolate-soccer-cake-games come to an end.
Next up...remember this picture from when I visited TheRammerHammer back in December?
Yeah...well...I found the perfect food product to accompany it:
Yep. Horlicks.
Now if you're like me...and I know that some of you sick-minded readers out there are...BeejcoughSamcoughHilcoughJeanne...you instantly wondered...well, what do Hor(s)lick here in the Middle East.
Alas...wonder no more...I found the answer to that question, the very same night...
Hor(s)lick...Hairy Balls of course:
Yeah. A platter of Hairy Balls.
I can't say, "I thought I'd never see the day"...because it's just...unimaginable to begin with.
Okay...so they aren't really Hairy Balls...they're actually an Indian fruit of some sort.
The kids saw them and wanted to try them.
Although, once home... they opted for the chocolate-chip treats before bed tonight.
Maybe tomorrow night.
Me...uh...yeah...I don't think so...
The only hairy balls I indulge with are accompanied by a foot long, wrist thick RammerHammerCockThankYouVeryMuch.
Oh yes! This reminds me...
Recently overheard on an elevator:
Woman ~ "Dang it. We forgot to get some KY today, there's hardly any left in the bottle."
Man ~ "Shiiiit...who needs a new bottle of KY? If there's some left in the old bottle...that's what we got the spatula for!"
Alright...alright...I'll tone it down.
There's somethin' good in the water on this side of the world.
See my nails??:
My nails are growing like they have never grown before...even pre-cancer.
My nails have never been this long and strong before in my life.
This is what my nails looked like when I had fake, acrylic nails years ago.
And, since I've been here...none of them have turned black from the chemo side-effects and/or fallen off like they were still doing before I came here!
A sweet bonus indeed.
I dig it. I love them.
TheRammerHammer on the other hand...doesn't not.
Apparently when he sweats/showers/swims in the pool on the roof...he becomes very, very aware of the scratches on his back.
Ooops. Did I say this topic was going to be un-sexual?
My bad. Sorry.
Ah...yes...and now...I present to you...
My DumbAss Medicine Move Of The Day:
(Can't you just hear the trumpets in your head right now???)
See those two bottles? Yeah...one of the is hairspray and one of them is underarm deoderant.
Guess what I did?
Yep...I reached into that there basket, and absent-mindly grabbed the hairspray and used it as underarm deoderant.
But wait...it gets better...it took me I don't know how many minutes to put two and two together as to why my damn arm pits were sticking to my torso.
Yeah. Go ahead...have your good laugh.
Ya schmuck.
And getting back to the topic of elevators...
Often is the time when ya get on an elevator over here and the stench from those that apparently only shower once a year is still lingering, waiting patiently to offend your nose like it's never been offended before.
Seriously...it's not just someone worked out, played 18 holes of golf and drove home in a car with no airconditioning B.O.
It's an unbelievable, someone hasn't-showered-since-310A.D. stench.
What am I getting at you ask?
Well...I stood at the sink the other day, washing dishes, like I do... (not the same day I used the hairspray under my arms)...and kept smelling a hint of that very stench every so often.
And I kept looking around behind me, to see if TheRammerHammer and the boys had come back down from the pool and perhaps I didn't hear them come in the door...
But nay...after a couple of minutes...I realized the stench was coming from me.
And I humbly learned that one can shower...and use two kinds of deoderant (not hairspray)...and smell like vanilla roses when leaving the apartment to take MobyLover on a 15 minute potty-walk...
But 15 minutes, walking in the mid-day sun...in the desert...is enough to give one a faint sunburn and put one in the beginning stages of the haven't-showered-since-310A.D. stench.
Hence...anyone have an awesome deoderant to suggest?
Ohhhh....here's a little one:
The one on the bottom is what the people here consider a spatula.
The one on the top is what normal people...and when I say 'normal'...I mean me... and I use the term loosely of course...consider a spatula.
Took us 1 month, 17 days and I don't know how many different stores in that time-frame to find what I consider a real freakin' spatula.
Made my freakin' month.
What can I say...I'm easy to please.
And if you have any brains at all, you've figured out that the above 'elevator conversation' is a farce.
Fine. I'll come clean.
That conversation was between TheRammerHammer and myself while going to bed the other night.
I love how much he makes me laugh.
I hurt...I puke...and yet, this is the most fun I've ever had in a relationship before.
We're both goofballs and dorks and we say the silliest, goofiest things.
It's nice not to be the only one laughing at my jokes and one-liners...if ya know what I mean?!?!
Well...I can't have such a long, wonderful post without section dedicated solely to a MobyLover...so here's your daily dose of Moby...
This is Moby lounging by the pool on the roof with TheRammerHammer and the boys:
And this is a Moby that's good and ready to go back to the airconditioned apartment 10 minutes later:
Ain't he the most cutest BassetHound! ever in the history of BassetHounds!???
(Um...excuse me...but you did just follow the MyBrandOfCrazy Handbook Rule #247 that states, and I quote: "All readers are indeed permitted to read any/all MobyLover post sections silently, particularly if at work (Beej)...However, upon coming to the printed word of "Hound!", all readers are required to verbally say the word "Hound!" aloud and with a thick German accent."...end quote.
Okay...I thought you did...I was just checkin'. :)
Alrighty then...
Last but not least...
I'm gonna kill two birds with one stone here...
Wait...that's not right...we all know that I would never kill a bird...
But...well...this is about a bird...so I naturally just went there...
And it's about my first-ever-balcony-garden too.
This was the picture from last month when I got my first little starter plants:
And this...this is what they look like 3 1/2 weeks later:
So yeah...they're coming along.
I've only lost one Lantana plant thus far.
I must confess though...I smuggled some Miracle-gro over in my luggage.
I.Heart.Miracle-gro.
You'll also notice in the above picture that I've acquired a little bird house/feeder.
I.Heart.TheRammerHammer.
And The Dove...has claimed it as her own.
Yesterday, she didn't budge when the Schqwauker came 'round.
And the Schqwauker opted to get some water from the bowl and pass on the food for the time being.
Oh! I was wrong...that wasn't the last thing.
TheRammer and I, decided that, "Ken lee...tulibu dibu douchoo"...is going to be our wedding vows to one another.
We think...somehow...it just captures the essence of what is "us".
Go here: http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=ken+leee&search_type=&aq=f
and perhaps you'll see why...
And...to borrow a line from Porky Pig..."Th-th-th-th-that's all folks!"
Hope everyone is well:)
(P.S.: Please excuse any/all spelling/grammatical errors...it's one of those nights...it's currently 3:10am in the morning. Thankyouverymuch...again.)
~ Gordon Webber
Okay...yeah...so the point of the quote is that this post is going to be loooonnnng...and full of randomness.
So grab a cup of coffee and get comfortable.
Oh...and you might wanna keep some wet-wipes handy...either that or don't take a sip of coffee prior to reading my Dumb-Ass-Medicine-Move-Of-The-Day.
Comprende'?
Good.
So, when I thought about this post, I originally thought I would begin with the good news about my first International Rescue/Foster Kitty...and about what a wonderful, little kitty he is...
This is Neo:
He's about a year old. Beautiful, shiny, healthy coat of fur. He was very afraid and confused the first few days and hid under the couch, coming out at night to eat and go potty.
Since I'm up and down at all hours of the night on most nights, I began to sit on the couch and 'meow', or in his case, "Mow-Mow" back and forth with him for 10-15 minutes at a time before going back to bed...thus winning his trust that I'm actually a safe, okay human that meant him no harm.
On third day, he finally ventured onto my lap and we had a good petting/purring session. (Him...not me...that comes later. Heh heh.)
Anyhoo, I quickly determined that he's essentially a lapcat...trapped in a scaredy cats body.
Hopefully, I can break him of this.
But, yeah....he's cute...loving...playful:
He figured out that Moby is a cool dog and also means him no harm:
Yep...all was going well...in fact...it couldn't have been going better...
Until this:
Go ahead...click on the next one to enlarge it and take a look at allllllll the tiny little specks on the tile:
I had already cleaned the kitchen floor, which was COVERED, and then thought of the camera...but the hallway was still a helluva mess...yes...the mess continued well into the hallway and to the front door.
Yeah. Those little specks...are chocolate cake.
Apparently, he doesn't like to eat chocolate cake at midnight...but he likes to counter-surf and knock it to the floor.... and then have a rousing game of soccer, wherein he plays every conceivable position, thus whittling the cake down to mere crumbs.
Luckily...the MobyLover was locked in the bedroom with us, thus insuring his innocence from conspiracy and/or from being framed by the cat of course.
Little schmuck. It's a good thing I love cats and rescuing them at all hours of the day. Particularly, at 6am in the morning...when chocolate-soccer-cake-games come to an end.
Next up...remember this picture from when I visited TheRammerHammer back in December?
Yeah...well...I found the perfect food product to accompany it:
Yep. Horlicks.
Now if you're like me...and I know that some of you sick-minded readers out there are...BeejcoughSamcoughHilcoughJeanne...you instantly wondered...well, what do Hor(s)lick here in the Middle East.
Alas...wonder no more...I found the answer to that question, the very same night...
Hor(s)lick...Hairy Balls of course:
Yeah. A platter of Hairy Balls.
I can't say, "I thought I'd never see the day"...because it's just...unimaginable to begin with.
Okay...so they aren't really Hairy Balls...they're actually an Indian fruit of some sort.
The kids saw them and wanted to try them.
Although, once home... they opted for the chocolate-chip treats before bed tonight.
Maybe tomorrow night.
Me...uh...yeah...I don't think so...
The only hairy balls I indulge with are accompanied by a foot long, wrist thick RammerHammerCockThankYouVeryMuch.
Oh yes! This reminds me...
Recently overheard on an elevator:
Woman ~ "Dang it. We forgot to get some KY today, there's hardly any left in the bottle."
Man ~ "Shiiiit...who needs a new bottle of KY? If there's some left in the old bottle...that's what we got the spatula for!"
Alright...alright...I'll tone it down.
There's somethin' good in the water on this side of the world.
See my nails??:
My nails are growing like they have never grown before...even pre-cancer.
My nails have never been this long and strong before in my life.
This is what my nails looked like when I had fake, acrylic nails years ago.
And, since I've been here...none of them have turned black from the chemo side-effects and/or fallen off like they were still doing before I came here!
A sweet bonus indeed.
I dig it. I love them.
TheRammerHammer on the other hand...doesn't not.
Apparently when he sweats/showers/swims in the pool on the roof...he becomes very, very aware of the scratches on his back.
Ooops. Did I say this topic was going to be un-sexual?
My bad. Sorry.
Ah...yes...and now...I present to you...
My DumbAss Medicine Move Of The Day:
(Can't you just hear the trumpets in your head right now???)
See those two bottles? Yeah...one of the is hairspray and one of them is underarm deoderant.
Guess what I did?
Yep...I reached into that there basket, and absent-mindly grabbed the hairspray and used it as underarm deoderant.
But wait...it gets better...it took me I don't know how many minutes to put two and two together as to why my damn arm pits were sticking to my torso.
Yeah. Go ahead...have your good laugh.
Ya schmuck.
And getting back to the topic of elevators...
Often is the time when ya get on an elevator over here and the stench from those that apparently only shower once a year is still lingering, waiting patiently to offend your nose like it's never been offended before.
Seriously...it's not just someone worked out, played 18 holes of golf and drove home in a car with no airconditioning B.O.
It's an unbelievable, someone hasn't-showered-since-310A.D. stench.
What am I getting at you ask?
Well...I stood at the sink the other day, washing dishes, like I do... (not the same day I used the hairspray under my arms)...and kept smelling a hint of that very stench every so often.
And I kept looking around behind me, to see if TheRammerHammer and the boys had come back down from the pool and perhaps I didn't hear them come in the door...
But nay...after a couple of minutes...I realized the stench was coming from me.
And I humbly learned that one can shower...and use two kinds of deoderant (not hairspray)...and smell like vanilla roses when leaving the apartment to take MobyLover on a 15 minute potty-walk...
But 15 minutes, walking in the mid-day sun...in the desert...is enough to give one a faint sunburn and put one in the beginning stages of the haven't-showered-since-310A.D. stench.
Hence...anyone have an awesome deoderant to suggest?
Ohhhh....here's a little one:
The one on the bottom is what the people here consider a spatula.
The one on the top is what normal people...and when I say 'normal'...I mean me... and I use the term loosely of course...consider a spatula.
Took us 1 month, 17 days and I don't know how many different stores in that time-frame to find what I consider a real freakin' spatula.
Made my freakin' month.
What can I say...I'm easy to please.
And if you have any brains at all, you've figured out that the above 'elevator conversation' is a farce.
Fine. I'll come clean.
That conversation was between TheRammerHammer and myself while going to bed the other night.
I love how much he makes me laugh.
I hurt...I puke...and yet, this is the most fun I've ever had in a relationship before.
We're both goofballs and dorks and we say the silliest, goofiest things.
It's nice not to be the only one laughing at my jokes and one-liners...if ya know what I mean?!?!
Well...I can't have such a long, wonderful post without section dedicated solely to a MobyLover...so here's your daily dose of Moby...
This is Moby lounging by the pool on the roof with TheRammerHammer and the boys:
And this is a Moby that's good and ready to go back to the airconditioned apartment 10 minutes later:
Ain't he the most cutest BassetHound! ever in the history of BassetHounds!???
(Um...excuse me...but you did just follow the MyBrandOfCrazy Handbook Rule #247 that states, and I quote: "All readers are indeed permitted to read any/all MobyLover post sections silently, particularly if at work (Beej)...However, upon coming to the printed word of "Hound!", all readers are required to verbally say the word "Hound!" aloud and with a thick German accent."...end quote.
Okay...I thought you did...I was just checkin'. :)
Alrighty then...
Last but not least...
I'm gonna kill two birds with one stone here...
Wait...that's not right...we all know that I would never kill a bird...
But...well...this is about a bird...so I naturally just went there...
And it's about my first-ever-balcony-garden too.
This was the picture from last month when I got my first little starter plants:
And this...this is what they look like 3 1/2 weeks later:
So yeah...they're coming along.
I've only lost one Lantana plant thus far.
I must confess though...I smuggled some Miracle-gro over in my luggage.
I.Heart.Miracle-gro.
You'll also notice in the above picture that I've acquired a little bird house/feeder.
I.Heart.TheRammerHammer.
And The Dove...has claimed it as her own.
Yesterday, she didn't budge when the Schqwauker came 'round.
And the Schqwauker opted to get some water from the bowl and pass on the food for the time being.
Oh! I was wrong...that wasn't the last thing.
TheRammer and I, decided that, "Ken lee...tulibu dibu douchoo"...is going to be our wedding vows to one another.
We think...somehow...it just captures the essence of what is "us".
Go here: http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=ken+leee&search_type=&aq=f
and perhaps you'll see why...
And...to borrow a line from Porky Pig..."Th-th-th-th-that's all folks!"
Hope everyone is well:)
(P.S.: Please excuse any/all spelling/grammatical errors...it's one of those nights...it's currently 3:10am in the morning. Thankyouverymuch...again.)
"Ability will never catch up with the demand for it."
~ Malcolm Forbes
HeyItsBeej said:
"Ten days. Ten days since your last entry. How am I supposed to give the illusion of performing work-like tasks if you don't give me something to read, huh? ::: smooch :::"
Jeez-Louise...ya demanding lil' wench!
Alright already!
I got a big ol' post coming tomorrow!
With lot's and lot's of pictures!
I promise!
I did send you an email that I think you'll like in the meantime though!
Hugs and Humps:P
Hope everyone is well!
~ Malcolm Forbes
HeyItsBeej said:
"Ten days. Ten days since your last entry. How am I supposed to give the illusion of performing work-like tasks if you don't give me something to read, huh? ::: smooch :::"
Jeez-Louise...ya demanding lil' wench!
Alright already!
I got a big ol' post coming tomorrow!
With lot's and lot's of pictures!
I promise!
I did send you an email that I think you'll like in the meantime though!
Hugs and Humps:P
Hope everyone is well!
Monday, June 23, 2008
"You must not know too much or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and watercraft; a certain free-margin, and even vagueness - ignorance, credulity - helps your enjoyment of these things."
~ Henry David Thoreau
This is a great quote. Fits me perfectly. I know very little. And what I do know...I tend to forget thanks to the side-effects of my meds. Which means right about now...I'm a happy camper. Because what little I do know, is that when a critter comes alone one day and finds food and water in a particular place...they tend to come back the next day...and make it a daily habit.
This:
...is my first visitor!
A dove to boot! How lucky am I??? Lucky indeed!
Today was her second day visiting. She likes to sit in the flower boxes and watch the traffic below I guess. I would think she'd be on someone else's balcony on the other side of the building where she could watch the other buildings, birds and people, etc. But...I'm not a bird, so what do I know.
Another one has been visiting as well...some kind of crow. He's too quick for me to get the camera to snap a picture though. I've named him Schquawker...because that's what he does. Loudly.Very, very loudly.
And I love it! I love them both and hope they tell all their friends about my balcony.
Yeah. I'm a dork.
This picture is posted for the viewing pleasure of Random:
Random appreciates the wonderfulness that is shoes. And handbags!
These are the shoes I've acquired thus far. Approximately $7 to $10 a pair.
They start out a little pricey. The locals think we're a visitor at first sight...but TheRammerHammer haggles like a pro since he's been here for over ten years.
The neuropathy in my feet and hands has sucked ass lately and my feet have been swelling a lot, so the roomy flats have come in real handy to get around in.
And the handbags, which are actually very well made, were roughly $25 each.
Random...there are literally shoe stores, shops and boutiques at every other store in the malls here...you must come visit shoe heaven sometime!
TheRammerHammer, albeit a great haggler...can also be a schmuck though.
But he's my schmuck...and I love my schmuck!
When I was here in December, he taught me a couple of Arabic phrases...one of them being "Shookron". No clue if I've spelled that right or not...I spelled it phonetically for obvious reasons.
It means 'Thank You'.
Anyhoo...at some point or another...he decided to teach me the Arabic word for women that like, love, worship and live for shoes and shoe shopping.It's: Shookhore.
Yes...as in "Shoe whore".
The sad thing is, I bought it for a good 5 minutes...until he told me it wasn't really an Arabic word.
Then I slugged him in the chest, in the middle of the mall before he had a chance to get away
Yeah. I love my RammerHammer schmuck.
And this is another reason why I love him:
This is the goodness that is Xylocaine. Also known as Lidocaine.
In a pump spray bottle.
It's sold over the counter at Pharmacies here.
Aside from the chemo and numerous pills that have slowly rotted my teeth and various chips that keep chipping away, etc...I clench my teeth in my sleep. No grinding for me. Just good old fashion clenching.
Which is why I woke up the other night at 3am in excruciating pain.
I took a Tramadol.
It did nothing.
I held a cold water bottle to the side of my jaw for an hour.
It did nothing.
I took two vicodin's.
Still nothing.
I hate teeth/mouth pain. It's the kind of pain you just can't get too, if ya know what I mean.
The kind of pain that makes one want to take the whole bottle of pain killers because quite honestly, you don't care if you never wake up again...as long as the fÃng pain STOPS!
And then... my loving, most wonderful, most awesomness, with the substantially HUGE cock, RammerHammer Schmuck...remembered the Xylocaine Pump Spray and bolted out of the house at 4am to acquire some for me.
This is the stuff the dentists in the states inject into your gums when working on your teeth.
I heart the pharmacies and the laws that decide what is OTC here and what is not.
And I really heart my RammerHammer Schmuck!
Hope everyone is well and pain free!:)
~ Henry David Thoreau
This is a great quote. Fits me perfectly. I know very little. And what I do know...I tend to forget thanks to the side-effects of my meds. Which means right about now...I'm a happy camper. Because what little I do know, is that when a critter comes alone one day and finds food and water in a particular place...they tend to come back the next day...and make it a daily habit.
This:
...is my first visitor!
A dove to boot! How lucky am I??? Lucky indeed!
Today was her second day visiting. She likes to sit in the flower boxes and watch the traffic below I guess. I would think she'd be on someone else's balcony on the other side of the building where she could watch the other buildings, birds and people, etc. But...I'm not a bird, so what do I know.
Another one has been visiting as well...some kind of crow. He's too quick for me to get the camera to snap a picture though. I've named him Schquawker...because that's what he does. Loudly.Very, very loudly.
And I love it! I love them both and hope they tell all their friends about my balcony.
Yeah. I'm a dork.
This picture is posted for the viewing pleasure of Random:
Random appreciates the wonderfulness that is shoes. And handbags!
These are the shoes I've acquired thus far. Approximately $7 to $10 a pair.
They start out a little pricey. The locals think we're a visitor at first sight...but TheRammerHammer haggles like a pro since he's been here for over ten years.
The neuropathy in my feet and hands has sucked ass lately and my feet have been swelling a lot, so the roomy flats have come in real handy to get around in.
And the handbags, which are actually very well made, were roughly $25 each.
Random...there are literally shoe stores, shops and boutiques at every other store in the malls here...you must come visit shoe heaven sometime!
TheRammerHammer, albeit a great haggler...can also be a schmuck though.
But he's my schmuck...and I love my schmuck!
When I was here in December, he taught me a couple of Arabic phrases...one of them being "Shookron". No clue if I've spelled that right or not...I spelled it phonetically for obvious reasons.
It means 'Thank You'.
Anyhoo...at some point or another...he decided to teach me the Arabic word for women that like, love, worship and live for shoes and shoe shopping.It's: Shookhore.
Yes...as in "Shoe whore".
The sad thing is, I bought it for a good 5 minutes...until he told me it wasn't really an Arabic word.
Then I slugged him in the chest, in the middle of the mall before he had a chance to get away
Yeah. I love my RammerHammer schmuck.
And this is another reason why I love him:
This is the goodness that is Xylocaine. Also known as Lidocaine.
In a pump spray bottle.
It's sold over the counter at Pharmacies here.
Aside from the chemo and numerous pills that have slowly rotted my teeth and various chips that keep chipping away, etc...I clench my teeth in my sleep. No grinding for me. Just good old fashion clenching.
Which is why I woke up the other night at 3am in excruciating pain.
I took a Tramadol.
It did nothing.
I held a cold water bottle to the side of my jaw for an hour.
It did nothing.
I took two vicodin's.
Still nothing.
I hate teeth/mouth pain. It's the kind of pain you just can't get too, if ya know what I mean.
The kind of pain that makes one want to take the whole bottle of pain killers because quite honestly, you don't care if you never wake up again...as long as the fÃng pain STOPS!
And then... my loving, most wonderful, most awesomness, with the substantially HUGE cock, RammerHammer Schmuck...remembered the Xylocaine Pump Spray and bolted out of the house at 4am to acquire some for me.
This is the stuff the dentists in the states inject into your gums when working on your teeth.
I heart the pharmacies and the laws that decide what is OTC here and what is not.
And I really heart my RammerHammer Schmuck!
Hope everyone is well and pain free!:)
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
"If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples then you and I will still each have one apple. But if you have an idea and I have an idea and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas."
~ George Bernard Shaw
So here's an idea for ya...
Run...don't walk...to your nearest grocery store produce department and find that which I have discovered is the goodness of the Fuji Apple.
I do not know whether or not these apples are sold in the states, as the only time I was ever in the produce department was to buy mushrooms, potatoes and lettuce to have on steak-it nights or to buy veggies for the chickens.
If by chance they aren't sold in the states...than find somewhere on-line where you can order them and have them delivered.
I promise...you will not regret it.
These apples are amazing.
They're...they're...
Well...if they weren't already called Fuji Apples, I'd name them...Oh.Adrienne's.God.Apples.
It didn't give me an orgasm, mind you...but if I was single...it might have come damn close!
Hope everyone is well;)
~ George Bernard Shaw
So here's an idea for ya...
Run...don't walk...to your nearest grocery store produce department and find that which I have discovered is the goodness of the Fuji Apple.
I do not know whether or not these apples are sold in the states, as the only time I was ever in the produce department was to buy mushrooms, potatoes and lettuce to have on steak-it nights or to buy veggies for the chickens.
If by chance they aren't sold in the states...than find somewhere on-line where you can order them and have them delivered.
I promise...you will not regret it.
These apples are amazing.
They're...they're...
Well...if they weren't already called Fuji Apples, I'd name them...Oh.Adrienne's.God.Apples.
It didn't give me an orgasm, mind you...but if I was single...it might have come damn close!
Hope everyone is well;)
Monday, June 16, 2008
"Fifty percent of the women in this country are not having orgasms. If that were true of the male population, it would be declared a national emergency."
~ Margo St. James
Yes...six.
Research shows that 13% of women are multi-orgasmic.
I must be in the top 2% of that 13%.
Last night, around 3am, after 2 untimely, loud text messages arrived, I was blessed with 14 orgasms.
I could have sworn that the subject of me being multi-orgasmic, had already been previously covered.
Perhaps it was on the old blog...I can't remember, but once I figure out how to transfer over the archives, if it's that important to anyone...have at it.
But, yes...I am.
Always have been.
Although admittedly, I've never been this multi-multi-orgasmic before in my life.
I attribute it to never...E.V.E.R. having been cared about and loved, the way TheRammerHammer cares about and loves me and visa-versa.
Oh...and the Schwanschtooker being foot long and wrist thick, probably has something to do with it as well.
TheRammerHammer is quite pleased...with me and himself, of course.
Apparently, he's not had any women with the "inner-plumbing", as he puts it, that I'm equipped with.
In other words...he's freakin' huge but he doesn't hurt me in any way, shape or form.
I can typically have anywhere from 10 to 30 orgasms per sex-capade...depending on whether it's a quickie or a mulligan.
Which is probably why I'm more like a man when it comes to sex, than most women.
I like it, I love it and I can't get enough of it.
Not to mention, it's on my mind 24/7.
Even TheRammerHammer can't sometimes believe how much more I think about it and vocalize it more than him!
Most of my meds have warnings about the side-effects negatively affecting one's sex drive.
I'm happy to report that that's one side-effect that hasn't affected me at all.
I think nothing short of sewing me up, would ever be able to stop my drive.
Granted...I've been in bad relationships, where 'our' (and I use the word 'our' very loosely) sex life diminished greatly...but it didn't stop my sex drive and Coco filled in willingly and quite nicely during those times.
Although at this particular time...my nether regions are currently saying, "Coco? Who to hell is Coco?"
Heh heh.
So, we're going for a personal record sometime this summer of 100 orgasms in a 24 hour period.
We tried once already.
Made it to 82 and then ran out of time.
It was that damn three hour afternoon nap that robbed us!
Which reminds me...I was supposed to blog and warn other multi-orgasmic people to skip orgasm #53.
This was when one of my orgasms pushed him outta me...which about 'broke him in half' if you get my drift and when I simultaneously got a cramp in my hip.
That was the first time in my life that I ever yelled out, "Sonovabitch- Bad, Bad Orgasm!" during an orgasm/sex.
So yeah...If I had to guess, I'd bet there are a few of you shaking your heads right now and probably even saying, "No freakin' way" out loud.
Yes...way.
And I'm sure some, if not all of the male species...immediately went to the 'she has fake orgasms and he's a sucker' mind-set.
At which point, the only thing I can say is, "Back in high school, TheRammerHammer is the one that gave me the nickname 'Pegglett'...One of the new nickname's he's given me is...Squirt."
Yikes...was that TMI???
Sorry.
Heh heh (again).
On a more serious note, if I ever became one of the women not in the 13% mentioned above...I'd slit my wrists in short order. Eeeeek...I don't even like to think about that, let alone actually see it in writing!
Hope everyone is well...and multi-orgasmic;)
P.S. ~ With all this sex talk...I can't help but wonder and yell..."WHERE TO HELL DID YOU GO BUNNY AND EARLY?!?!?!?" :(
~ Margo St. James
Yes...six.
Research shows that 13% of women are multi-orgasmic.
I must be in the top 2% of that 13%.
Last night, around 3am, after 2 untimely, loud text messages arrived, I was blessed with 14 orgasms.
I could have sworn that the subject of me being multi-orgasmic, had already been previously covered.
Perhaps it was on the old blog...I can't remember, but once I figure out how to transfer over the archives, if it's that important to anyone...have at it.
But, yes...I am.
Always have been.
Although admittedly, I've never been this multi-multi-orgasmic before in my life.
I attribute it to never...E.V.E.R. having been cared about and loved, the way TheRammerHammer cares about and loves me and visa-versa.
Oh...and the Schwanschtooker being foot long and wrist thick, probably has something to do with it as well.
TheRammerHammer is quite pleased...with me and himself, of course.
Apparently, he's not had any women with the "inner-plumbing", as he puts it, that I'm equipped with.
In other words...he's freakin' huge but he doesn't hurt me in any way, shape or form.
I can typically have anywhere from 10 to 30 orgasms per sex-capade...depending on whether it's a quickie or a mulligan.
Which is probably why I'm more like a man when it comes to sex, than most women.
I like it, I love it and I can't get enough of it.
Not to mention, it's on my mind 24/7.
Even TheRammerHammer can't sometimes believe how much more I think about it and vocalize it more than him!
Most of my meds have warnings about the side-effects negatively affecting one's sex drive.
I'm happy to report that that's one side-effect that hasn't affected me at all.
I think nothing short of sewing me up, would ever be able to stop my drive.
Granted...I've been in bad relationships, where 'our' (and I use the word 'our' very loosely) sex life diminished greatly...but it didn't stop my sex drive and Coco filled in willingly and quite nicely during those times.
Although at this particular time...my nether regions are currently saying, "Coco? Who to hell is Coco?"
Heh heh.
So, we're going for a personal record sometime this summer of 100 orgasms in a 24 hour period.
We tried once already.
Made it to 82 and then ran out of time.
It was that damn three hour afternoon nap that robbed us!
Which reminds me...I was supposed to blog and warn other multi-orgasmic people to skip orgasm #53.
This was when one of my orgasms pushed him outta me...which about 'broke him in half' if you get my drift and when I simultaneously got a cramp in my hip.
That was the first time in my life that I ever yelled out, "Sonovabitch- Bad, Bad Orgasm!" during an orgasm/sex.
So yeah...If I had to guess, I'd bet there are a few of you shaking your heads right now and probably even saying, "No freakin' way" out loud.
Yes...way.
And I'm sure some, if not all of the male species...immediately went to the 'she has fake orgasms and he's a sucker' mind-set.
At which point, the only thing I can say is, "Back in high school, TheRammerHammer is the one that gave me the nickname 'Pegglett'...One of the new nickname's he's given me is...Squirt."
Yikes...was that TMI???
Sorry.
Heh heh (again).
On a more serious note, if I ever became one of the women not in the 13% mentioned above...I'd slit my wrists in short order. Eeeeek...I don't even like to think about that, let alone actually see it in writing!
Hope everyone is well...and multi-orgasmic;)
P.S. ~ With all this sex talk...I can't help but wonder and yell..."WHERE TO HELL DID YOU GO BUNNY AND EARLY?!?!?!?" :(
Sunday, June 15, 2008
"Between saying and doing, many a pair of shoes is worn out."
~ Iris Murdoch
Yesterday, TheRammerHammer came home from a two day trip.
Which is why I doubled up my meds...
We left the house at 5pm, in search of chicken wings for me.
Four hours later, I procured the chicken, a hair straightner, two handbags, a pair of shoes and six orgasms in the back seat of the car.
It was a very good day in Dubai.
Hope everyone is well:)
~ Iris Murdoch
Yesterday, TheRammerHammer came home from a two day trip.
Which is why I doubled up my meds...
We left the house at 5pm, in search of chicken wings for me.
Four hours later, I procured the chicken, a hair straightner, two handbags, a pair of shoes and six orgasms in the back seat of the car.
It was a very good day in Dubai.
Hope everyone is well:)
Friday, June 13, 2008
"Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been."
~ Mark Twain
I like TheRammerHammer's theory much better.
He says they're not laugh lines and crows feet...they're multiple-orgasm lines.
Yeah baby.
Much, much better.
Staying on topic, it is safe for us to say that pool sex is not how it always looks in the movies. Especially when one(s) get busted. heh heh.
We've also determined that a 'naked break' doesn't necessarily mean that clothed people disrobe for awhile...it can also mean that it's time to take a break from being naked, in order to make a grocery store food run.
Next up...these crappy things, that I'm an un-willing slave to...
Are going to spawn what may become a daily edition to my posts called Dumb Ass Medicine Move of the Day.
If I recall correctly, I was going to do this a few years ago when I didn't read the directions on the hair removal lotion...
Anyhoo, yeah, the other day I washed the bedding. Took the fitted sheet and pillow cases off, as well as the duvet cover off the comforter. Then I spread the comforter back out on the bed, in case a Moby wanted to get back up on the bed to nap. Yeah. When the laundry was all done, I ignored the nicely, spread out comforter on the bed and put the fitted sheet right on top of it. The kicker is...took me at least a good five minutes to figure it out. I had no idea what I'd done with the dang comforter. Thought I was going crazy. Nope ...just turns out that I'm a moron now. Oy.
Then there was the night that I made a huge thing of pasta...so that I could just heat it up in the microwave when I got hungry because usually if I'm hungry and I have to actually cook something, I get sick from the smell by the time it's done cooking and I can't eat. Yeah...I made a whole thing of pasta and then promptly left it on the counter overnight to spoil.
Go me. @@.
I can't count how many times I grab the shampoo or the conditioner instead of the one I really want when showering...doesn't sound like much right? But they're two different brands and colors...how many times can one idjit make the same mistake? The count is still on...I'll get back to ya.
Today's edition of 'Why I Love TheRammerHammer' is:
(And yes...I mean aside from the multiple-orgasm lines!)
Because unlike most men (no offense), he has an incredible memory.
Most of you won't get or understand what I'm about to write...but a few of you will giggle.
I told him a story last year when he came to visit me in MO.
The other day, I realized I was running out of one of my favorite products and asked him, "Do you think they sell Bert Bees anywhere here?"
His reply was, "You mean Bert Bees Cha-Cha-Cha?"
Oh...and I love how when he reads the boys their bed time story, he reads the title of the book, the author and then the book.
The author?!?!
Who does that?
He does.
And these are the pretty flowers he got me for my balcony garden:
My first Hibiscus:
I only know the one on the far right is Lantana, the other's, I'm still working on:
What else...oh...yeah...I'm gonna throw in a weekly ditty about a new product I've discovered, and/or a similar one that might somehow be a little different.
Like this: We may have lighter fluid in the states...but here, they have:
And the sodas still have the old pull tops on them.
Oh...and Pringle's, for some odd reason, are waaaaayyy thicker here.
Riddle me that!
Also...for those not in the know...
You'll notice similar posts on my MySpace...this is so I can keep my close family up-dated.
This here blog is the one that I let loose on...A.K.A. - the one they don't know about.
Which is why I privatized the BBM blog and switched to this one.
I'd love to switch over the archives...but I don't know how to do that:(
Hope everyone is well;)
~ Mark Twain
I like TheRammerHammer's theory much better.
He says they're not laugh lines and crows feet...they're multiple-orgasm lines.
Yeah baby.
Much, much better.
Staying on topic, it is safe for us to say that pool sex is not how it always looks in the movies. Especially when one(s) get busted. heh heh.
We've also determined that a 'naked break' doesn't necessarily mean that clothed people disrobe for awhile...it can also mean that it's time to take a break from being naked, in order to make a grocery store food run.
Next up...these crappy things, that I'm an un-willing slave to...
Are going to spawn what may become a daily edition to my posts called Dumb Ass Medicine Move of the Day.
If I recall correctly, I was going to do this a few years ago when I didn't read the directions on the hair removal lotion...
Anyhoo, yeah, the other day I washed the bedding. Took the fitted sheet and pillow cases off, as well as the duvet cover off the comforter. Then I spread the comforter back out on the bed, in case a Moby wanted to get back up on the bed to nap. Yeah. When the laundry was all done, I ignored the nicely, spread out comforter on the bed and put the fitted sheet right on top of it. The kicker is...took me at least a good five minutes to figure it out. I had no idea what I'd done with the dang comforter. Thought I was going crazy. Nope ...just turns out that I'm a moron now. Oy.
Then there was the night that I made a huge thing of pasta...so that I could just heat it up in the microwave when I got hungry because usually if I'm hungry and I have to actually cook something, I get sick from the smell by the time it's done cooking and I can't eat. Yeah...I made a whole thing of pasta and then promptly left it on the counter overnight to spoil.
Go me. @@.
I can't count how many times I grab the shampoo or the conditioner instead of the one I really want when showering...doesn't sound like much right? But they're two different brands and colors...how many times can one idjit make the same mistake? The count is still on...I'll get back to ya.
Today's edition of 'Why I Love TheRammerHammer' is:
(And yes...I mean aside from the multiple-orgasm lines!)
Because unlike most men (no offense), he has an incredible memory.
Most of you won't get or understand what I'm about to write...but a few of you will giggle.
I told him a story last year when he came to visit me in MO.
The other day, I realized I was running out of one of my favorite products and asked him, "Do you think they sell Bert Bees anywhere here?"
His reply was, "You mean Bert Bees Cha-Cha-Cha?"
Oh...and I love how when he reads the boys their bed time story, he reads the title of the book, the author and then the book.
The author?!?!
Who does that?
He does.
And these are the pretty flowers he got me for my balcony garden:
My first Hibiscus:
I only know the one on the far right is Lantana, the other's, I'm still working on:
What else...oh...yeah...I'm gonna throw in a weekly ditty about a new product I've discovered, and/or a similar one that might somehow be a little different.
Like this: We may have lighter fluid in the states...but here, they have:
And the sodas still have the old pull tops on them.
Oh...and Pringle's, for some odd reason, are waaaaayyy thicker here.
Riddle me that!
Also...for those not in the know...
You'll notice similar posts on my MySpace...this is so I can keep my close family up-dated.
This here blog is the one that I let loose on...A.K.A. - the one they don't know about.
Which is why I privatized the BBM blog and switched to this one.
I'd love to switch over the archives...but I don't know how to do that:(
Hope everyone is well;)
Sunday, June 8, 2008
"If the odds are a million to one against something occurring, chances are 50-50 it will."
~ Anonymous
So, TheRammerHammer and I are walking through a store in the mall yesterday and we're talking and giggling, (probably about something having to do with sex of course), and a young lady we pass, stops and asks if we're from the states. We reply, "yes" and ask if she is as well. Turns out, she's from Florida. So, we inquire as to where in Florida, and she replies, "Miami." Which is damn near to our old stomping grounds, so we inquire, where in Miami...and she responds with, "Well, not so much Miami, as Pembroke Pines." Which is essentially, our old stomping grounds.
Which begs the question...what are the odds of being half way around the world and meeting someone from your neck-of-the-woods?
Up until yesterday, I'd have not bet any money on that one.
Today...she has a picture to prove it...damned if we can remember her name though!
I've got plenty of meds, that mess with my short-term memory...TheRammerHammer...well, according to him...he's old.
So, we're hoping she visits my blog and refreshes our memories!
The post-a-day deal...fell through.
Not through any fault of my own, mind you.
The computer/internet was down for a day or two.
Me?
I've got my little notebook choc' full o' things to blog about.
Much, too much for one sitting.
I mean, I'd be willing...but you'd probably get bored halfway through reading it.
Except the parts about sex of course.
I know how you are Beej and I can't believe you would ask such a silly typo question of me!!!!
As they say here, "Tsk!Tsk!"
Hence, without further adieu...the rest of this post, will totally be about ...a MobyLover!
Moby is doing quite well. His sleeping scheduling didn't seem to be disrupted at all. Of course, that has a lot to do with the fact that he's a freakin' lazy ass BassetHound!
On a side note...did ya do it??? Did you say the word 'hound' with a thick German accent?
Yes...I know you did RammerHammer...I was referring to everyone else.
Well, all three of them, specifically.
I say that, because although my sitemeter shows the visits of the usual everyone...only one of you has changed your side bar from BBM...to MBOC.
Which means, most of you people are as lazy as a BassetHound!
See? Didn't that sound much better in your head?
I know!!!
If you still didn't do it...get with the program man...it's just not the same if you don't.
Trust me on this one.
Anyhoo...yeah...aside from his Em-Basset-or of Good Will duties, he keeps much the same schedule as he did in the states: Eat. Sleep. Get treats. Sleep. Scarf up dropped food. Sleep. Get lot's of love and attention. Sleep. Weekly bath. Sleep. Walk. Sleep. Poop. Sleep.
Not necessarily in that order.
Although, for a time...he absolutely refused to poop whenever I took him for a walk. He would patiently wait until the RammerHammer got home from work to walk him.
Turns out...he goes to a V.I.P. section of sand...the one for Very Important Pooper's.
Oh...and he prefers an audience of passing cars and/or workers to be watching...don't ask...I have no idea.
Perhaps it's the extra attention he's lacking.
Ron seems to think that whenever my pills kick in and we get busy...gettin' busy...(yes, that means SEX Beej!)...he jumps down from the bed as if to sigh loudly and groan in an Eeyore like manner...as if to say, "Damn these two...I'm in hedonistic hell."...and then quickly retreats to the couch in the living room until he hears that we're done.
Which, I suppose, is better than sitting there staring, like some dogs do.
However, if memory serves, and sometimes it does...I believe he has slept through it once or twice as well.
Yeah...a voyeur...he's not.
He's more the likes-to-be-watched kind apparently.
Having said that...
This is an unhappy Moby, wondering what to hell is up with the new weekly bath deal.
This is a happy Moby, being read bed-time stories about puppies!
And this...well...this is an unsuspecting Moby with a piece of pasta on his butt.
There.
You've had your daily dose of Moby.
Don'tcha feel all warm and fuzzy inside?
Hope everyone is well;)
~ Anonymous
So, TheRammerHammer and I are walking through a store in the mall yesterday and we're talking and giggling, (probably about something having to do with sex of course), and a young lady we pass, stops and asks if we're from the states. We reply, "yes" and ask if she is as well. Turns out, she's from Florida. So, we inquire as to where in Florida, and she replies, "Miami." Which is damn near to our old stomping grounds, so we inquire, where in Miami...and she responds with, "Well, not so much Miami, as Pembroke Pines." Which is essentially, our old stomping grounds.
Which begs the question...what are the odds of being half way around the world and meeting someone from your neck-of-the-woods?
Up until yesterday, I'd have not bet any money on that one.
Today...she has a picture to prove it...damned if we can remember her name though!
I've got plenty of meds, that mess with my short-term memory...TheRammerHammer...well, according to him...he's old.
So, we're hoping she visits my blog and refreshes our memories!
The post-a-day deal...fell through.
Not through any fault of my own, mind you.
The computer/internet was down for a day or two.
Me?
I've got my little notebook choc' full o' things to blog about.
Much, too much for one sitting.
I mean, I'd be willing...but you'd probably get bored halfway through reading it.
Except the parts about sex of course.
I know how you are Beej and I can't believe you would ask such a silly typo question of me!!!!
As they say here, "Tsk!Tsk!"
Hence, without further adieu...the rest of this post, will totally be about ...a MobyLover!
Moby is doing quite well. His sleeping scheduling didn't seem to be disrupted at all. Of course, that has a lot to do with the fact that he's a freakin' lazy ass BassetHound!
On a side note...did ya do it??? Did you say the word 'hound' with a thick German accent?
Yes...I know you did RammerHammer...I was referring to everyone else.
Well, all three of them, specifically.
I say that, because although my sitemeter shows the visits of the usual everyone...only one of you has changed your side bar from BBM...to MBOC.
Which means, most of you people are as lazy as a BassetHound!
See? Didn't that sound much better in your head?
I know!!!
If you still didn't do it...get with the program man...it's just not the same if you don't.
Trust me on this one.
Anyhoo...yeah...aside from his Em-Basset-or of Good Will duties, he keeps much the same schedule as he did in the states: Eat. Sleep. Get treats. Sleep. Scarf up dropped food. Sleep. Get lot's of love and attention. Sleep. Weekly bath. Sleep. Walk. Sleep. Poop. Sleep.
Not necessarily in that order.
Although, for a time...he absolutely refused to poop whenever I took him for a walk. He would patiently wait until the RammerHammer got home from work to walk him.
Turns out...he goes to a V.I.P. section of sand...the one for Very Important Pooper's.
Oh...and he prefers an audience of passing cars and/or workers to be watching...don't ask...I have no idea.
Perhaps it's the extra attention he's lacking.
Ron seems to think that whenever my pills kick in and we get busy...gettin' busy...(yes, that means SEX Beej!)...he jumps down from the bed as if to sigh loudly and groan in an Eeyore like manner...as if to say, "Damn these two...I'm in hedonistic hell."...and then quickly retreats to the couch in the living room until he hears that we're done.
Which, I suppose, is better than sitting there staring, like some dogs do.
However, if memory serves, and sometimes it does...I believe he has slept through it once or twice as well.
Yeah...a voyeur...he's not.
He's more the likes-to-be-watched kind apparently.
Having said that...
This is an unhappy Moby, wondering what to hell is up with the new weekly bath deal.
This is a happy Moby, being read bed-time stories about puppies!
And this...well...this is an unsuspecting Moby with a piece of pasta on his butt.
There.
You've had your daily dose of Moby.
Don'tcha feel all warm and fuzzy inside?
Hope everyone is well;)
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
"We come from the earth, we return to the earth, and in between we garden."
~ Anonymous
I'll have to wait until TheRammerHammer gets home, to find where he keeps the camera cord, so I can post some pictures...'cause I have some pictures to post!
TheRammerHammer took me to a nursery yesterday afternoon and bought me some plants. I thought I was going to have an orgasm when we walked in the door. The smells, the colors and the textures! Whoo-hoo-woo-hoo-hoo!
So, aside from the seeds I planted, I already have my little starter balcony garden. Purdy pinks, yellows and red!
Another thing I don't like about Nanny's. When the kids are off at school...ya still can't run around nekkid. Hmmph.
Finally found some sourcream! Yay!
Being woken up in the night...by an alarm cock...is supposedly a good thing.
I'll confirm eventually.
Hope everyone is well;)
~ Anonymous
I'll have to wait until TheRammerHammer gets home, to find where he keeps the camera cord, so I can post some pictures...'cause I have some pictures to post!
TheRammerHammer took me to a nursery yesterday afternoon and bought me some plants. I thought I was going to have an orgasm when we walked in the door. The smells, the colors and the textures! Whoo-hoo-woo-hoo-hoo!
So, aside from the seeds I planted, I already have my little starter balcony garden. Purdy pinks, yellows and red!
Another thing I don't like about Nanny's. When the kids are off at school...ya still can't run around nekkid. Hmmph.
Finally found some sourcream! Yay!
Being woken up in the night...by an alarm cock...is supposedly a good thing.
I'll confirm eventually.
Hope everyone is well;)
Monday, June 2, 2008
To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves.
~ Mohandas K. Gandhi
Which is why today...I planted.
Six potted planters and 8 different packages of seeds.
Soon...okay, so not that soon...but eventually, I will see some green.
And purple. And pink. And orange and yellow and red and I'm so excited!!!
The waiting is the hardest part.
Sigh.
But damn it felt good.
The soil and moss between my fingers.
The smell.
Good indeed.
Some girls want big, expensive, fancy cars, houses, clothes and jewelry...
Me?
I just want Daisy here, and my other dog here, a new cat (since none of the old cats would have been able to survive the trip-sniffle, sniffle-can't go there right now), plants and flowers and a beer every now and then to help me sleep.
Yeah. I'm a cheap date, broad, whathaveyou.
More randumbness:
So, the Ex requires the Nanny...I'll let you figure out why on your own.
TheRammerHammer and I do not...you know...because we're adults and attentive parents.
However, TheRammerHammer is obligated to pay half for the Nanny until the end of November and rather than leave the poor woman at the Ex's house when the kids are here, to be at the Ex's beck-and-call...just didn't seem very fair to the poor, sweet woman.
So she's here and she's not just a Nanny. She helps around the house as well. Doing dishes, laundry and cleaning.
I've never had the experience of having neither a maid nor a Nanny. So, she and I have a friendly, little, unspoken competition. Okay...I have one...I don't think she has a clue because she's just that innocent and sweet.
It doesn't feel right to have her do things...and specifically do things for me.
I'm here and even on my bad days, I'm perfectly capable of washing my dish or two.
On my good days...I'm perfectly capable of washing any/all of the dishes that TheRammerHammer, myself or the boys use.
I can throw loads of laundry in and hang them out to dry.
I can sweep and I can dust.
So the competition is that on my good days...TheRammerHammer or I make the meals for us all, and when the pots and pans and untinsels are left in the sink while we're eating, she sneaks out into the kitchen and washes them. So, I either clear the plates or ask TheRammerHammer and the boys to, bringing me the dishes so that I can wash them, and she doesn't have to.
If she throws a load of laundry in without me seeing, but I hear the machine running...I wait patiently and beat her to it, to hang them out to dry.
I know it sounds silly...but I know and have seen first hand what an unclean person the Ex is...so I know the Nanny works her fingers to the bone at the other apartment.
I feel a little bad that we'll be letting her go in November, leaving her to fend for herself 24/7 over there.
The upside of not having her here eventually though, is that .she'll stop putting things where she wants them or thinks they should go, after I've put them where I want them or think they should go for the third or fourth time.
Definitely not used to, nor do I think I would ever get used to, having that go on in my household! LOL.
Moving stuff...another hot topic:
They don't have traditional moving trucks here...no Hertz, no U-hauls, etc.
And very few people own trucks period.
Lot's of little SUV's...and locals with regular trucks that sit on the side of the road just waiting for people to pull over and hire them to move something...but that's not what this little bit is about.
When moving your belongings from one place to another here, you can pile gobs and gobs of said belongings out into the hallway and out in front of the apartment building itself and leave it all there, while you travel back and forth, for however long...and you don't have to worry at all, about anything being stolen or rummaged through. At all. People just respect what is their's and what isn't here. Amazing concept. One I don't think I've ever witnessed in my life until now.
An un-hot topic:
Who knew I shoulda packed my freakin'-frackin' long sleeve shirts when moving to the desert??
Not me.
Me? I packed short sleeve shirts, tank-tops and some pretty halter tops.
However, it's so freakin' hot outside that everyone here sets their air conditioning units to Arctic.
So, everywhere I go here...you know...in the desert...I freakin' freeze.
City life is taking some getting used to.
I miss the sound of the crickets (all of them in the distance, not just one under the bedroom window), the birds, the horses, the wind in the tree's, etc.
There are birds here, though not many...yet. I'm hoping my balcony garden and a well placed bird feeder will change that.
But they are building a city here. Yes...not just a couple of buildings here and there...a whole city...at once...at fast as possible.
They work 'round the clock here, three shifts.
Yes, there are some things they aren't permitted to do between certain sleeping hours, but they do what they can with the time they have...and it doesn't mean that some companies don't push the boundaries and try to get away with doing noisy things at all hours of the day and night.
Now, I hear the sound of cars, and banging, and trucks backing up, and sirens, etc.
I remember city life...I lived in Fort Lauderdale and Miami.
But in the Osmond's famous words...I'm a little bit country and a little big rock-n-roll.
It may take awhile, but I'll merge the two here, just like I have everywhere else.
For now...that beer to help me sleep would be very welcome tonight around 9pm, mmmkay?
Thankyouverymuch.
I've had a few emails about TV here and what's available.
The answer...anything and everything.
They have basic cable here and premium cable as well.
We have basic...lot's of channels from other countries, in each countries respective language.
What I find amusing is that (for us anyhoo) there are 3-4 American/english channels.
One in particular is called MBC...on it, at any given time, are American TV shows from CBS, NBC and ABC. Made me giggle when I first figured it out. All the 'rating rivalry' in the states for each individual channel and here...they're all on one channel.
As for the shows...the only thing I see missing is Soap-Opera's...with the exception of one, but I don't know the name of which one it is and haven't been able to catch the beginning to find out.
Otherwise...they've got Idol, Amazing Race, Without A Trace, Bones, House, Shark, Numbers, Las Vegas, and various others.
Basically, TheRammerHammer says the only restriction(s) they really put on American television here is anything with Homosexual overtones (so no Will & Grace, dang it) and shows with a lot of sexual overtones and/or almost nude/nude people on them (which is why I'm guessing there is no Survivor or Two And A Half Men...thank goodness for the internet and message boards as far as Survivor goes! TAAHM, I can also live with out Sean! LOL.)
The funny thing is, that there are plenty of gay men and lesbians here...they aren't overly affectionate in public, but then again, nobody really is. People hold hands, walk with arms around one another and kiss affectionately...just no going overboard...so one hopes (read: me) that they will eventually discover the funniness that is Will & Grace...and Jack & Karen.
Let's see what else...
I don't know what homosexuality and/or sexual content or lack there of, have to do with sourcream...but it's impossible to find here.
Although the search is not over and I'm not giving up, dagnabit.
Oh and lastyly...I spoke to soon!
I finished a difficult Soduko last night for the first time ever.
I just may frame that sucker, as it might not ever happen again!
Okay...that's it for now...time to walk a Moby...he's been a patient, patient puppy.
Hope everyone is well;)
~ Mohandas K. Gandhi
Which is why today...I planted.
Six potted planters and 8 different packages of seeds.
Soon...okay, so not that soon...but eventually, I will see some green.
And purple. And pink. And orange and yellow and red and I'm so excited!!!
The waiting is the hardest part.
Sigh.
But damn it felt good.
The soil and moss between my fingers.
The smell.
Good indeed.
Some girls want big, expensive, fancy cars, houses, clothes and jewelry...
Me?
I just want Daisy here, and my other dog here, a new cat (since none of the old cats would have been able to survive the trip-sniffle, sniffle-can't go there right now), plants and flowers and a beer every now and then to help me sleep.
Yeah. I'm a cheap date, broad, whathaveyou.
More randumbness:
So, the Ex requires the Nanny...I'll let you figure out why on your own.
TheRammerHammer and I do not...you know...because we're adults and attentive parents.
However, TheRammerHammer is obligated to pay half for the Nanny until the end of November and rather than leave the poor woman at the Ex's house when the kids are here, to be at the Ex's beck-and-call...just didn't seem very fair to the poor, sweet woman.
So she's here and she's not just a Nanny. She helps around the house as well. Doing dishes, laundry and cleaning.
I've never had the experience of having neither a maid nor a Nanny. So, she and I have a friendly, little, unspoken competition. Okay...I have one...I don't think she has a clue because she's just that innocent and sweet.
It doesn't feel right to have her do things...and specifically do things for me.
I'm here and even on my bad days, I'm perfectly capable of washing my dish or two.
On my good days...I'm perfectly capable of washing any/all of the dishes that TheRammerHammer, myself or the boys use.
I can throw loads of laundry in and hang them out to dry.
I can sweep and I can dust.
So the competition is that on my good days...TheRammerHammer or I make the meals for us all, and when the pots and pans and untinsels are left in the sink while we're eating, she sneaks out into the kitchen and washes them. So, I either clear the plates or ask TheRammerHammer and the boys to, bringing me the dishes so that I can wash them, and she doesn't have to.
If she throws a load of laundry in without me seeing, but I hear the machine running...I wait patiently and beat her to it, to hang them out to dry.
I know it sounds silly...but I know and have seen first hand what an unclean person the Ex is...so I know the Nanny works her fingers to the bone at the other apartment.
I feel a little bad that we'll be letting her go in November, leaving her to fend for herself 24/7 over there.
The upside of not having her here eventually though, is that .she'll stop putting things where she wants them or thinks they should go, after I've put them where I want them or think they should go for the third or fourth time.
Definitely not used to, nor do I think I would ever get used to, having that go on in my household! LOL.
Moving stuff...another hot topic:
They don't have traditional moving trucks here...no Hertz, no U-hauls, etc.
And very few people own trucks period.
Lot's of little SUV's...and locals with regular trucks that sit on the side of the road just waiting for people to pull over and hire them to move something...but that's not what this little bit is about.
When moving your belongings from one place to another here, you can pile gobs and gobs of said belongings out into the hallway and out in front of the apartment building itself and leave it all there, while you travel back and forth, for however long...and you don't have to worry at all, about anything being stolen or rummaged through. At all. People just respect what is their's and what isn't here. Amazing concept. One I don't think I've ever witnessed in my life until now.
An un-hot topic:
Who knew I shoulda packed my freakin'-frackin' long sleeve shirts when moving to the desert??
Not me.
Me? I packed short sleeve shirts, tank-tops and some pretty halter tops.
However, it's so freakin' hot outside that everyone here sets their air conditioning units to Arctic.
So, everywhere I go here...you know...in the desert...I freakin' freeze.
City life is taking some getting used to.
I miss the sound of the crickets (all of them in the distance, not just one under the bedroom window), the birds, the horses, the wind in the tree's, etc.
There are birds here, though not many...yet. I'm hoping my balcony garden and a well placed bird feeder will change that.
But they are building a city here. Yes...not just a couple of buildings here and there...a whole city...at once...at fast as possible.
They work 'round the clock here, three shifts.
Yes, there are some things they aren't permitted to do between certain sleeping hours, but they do what they can with the time they have...and it doesn't mean that some companies don't push the boundaries and try to get away with doing noisy things at all hours of the day and night.
Now, I hear the sound of cars, and banging, and trucks backing up, and sirens, etc.
I remember city life...I lived in Fort Lauderdale and Miami.
But in the Osmond's famous words...I'm a little bit country and a little big rock-n-roll.
It may take awhile, but I'll merge the two here, just like I have everywhere else.
For now...that beer to help me sleep would be very welcome tonight around 9pm, mmmkay?
Thankyouverymuch.
I've had a few emails about TV here and what's available.
The answer...anything and everything.
They have basic cable here and premium cable as well.
We have basic...lot's of channels from other countries, in each countries respective language.
What I find amusing is that (for us anyhoo) there are 3-4 American/english channels.
One in particular is called MBC...on it, at any given time, are American TV shows from CBS, NBC and ABC. Made me giggle when I first figured it out. All the 'rating rivalry' in the states for each individual channel and here...they're all on one channel.
As for the shows...the only thing I see missing is Soap-Opera's...with the exception of one, but I don't know the name of which one it is and haven't been able to catch the beginning to find out.
Otherwise...they've got Idol, Amazing Race, Without A Trace, Bones, House, Shark, Numbers, Las Vegas, and various others.
Basically, TheRammerHammer says the only restriction(s) they really put on American television here is anything with Homosexual overtones (so no Will & Grace, dang it) and shows with a lot of sexual overtones and/or almost nude/nude people on them (which is why I'm guessing there is no Survivor or Two And A Half Men...thank goodness for the internet and message boards as far as Survivor goes! TAAHM, I can also live with out Sean! LOL.)
The funny thing is, that there are plenty of gay men and lesbians here...they aren't overly affectionate in public, but then again, nobody really is. People hold hands, walk with arms around one another and kiss affectionately...just no going overboard...so one hopes (read: me) that they will eventually discover the funniness that is Will & Grace...and Jack & Karen.
Let's see what else...
I don't know what homosexuality and/or sexual content or lack there of, have to do with sourcream...but it's impossible to find here.
Although the search is not over and I'm not giving up, dagnabit.
Oh and lastyly...I spoke to soon!
I finished a difficult Soduko last night for the first time ever.
I just may frame that sucker, as it might not ever happen again!
Okay...that's it for now...time to walk a Moby...he's been a patient, patient puppy.
Hope everyone is well;)
Sunday, June 1, 2008
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
~ Anais Nin
And some of us, are made up of crazy.
Some of us...have our own little demons, carrying around bags full of crazy to sell.
Okay...to be more specific than "some of us"...I'm talking about me here.
As if you didn't know.
And then are people like TheRammerHammer.
Amazing.
Not only has he carried me to and from the vomit room/bedroom.
He's rubbed my back and arms and legs when the pills haven't helped the aching.
He's let me sleep, when I needed to sleep, no matter what the hour of day.
And when I've woke up at various mid-night hours/or been unable to sleep altogether...and cried (read that as sobbed like a little girl) about missing Daisy or my zoo or my friends and family...he's held me and listened and soothed me...even though it left him with vey little sleep and an early alarm for school the next day.
He's obliged my whims of what-kinda-sounds-like-it-might-taste-good run(s) to the grocery store...and not batted an eye, when I had a little bit and then immediately turned away for fear that even glancing at it, let alone taking another bite, might make me puke.
He's walked a Moby, fed a Moby and played with a Moby...whenever I've been in bed and unable to.
And most importantly...he's fed my soul and lightened the weight of my heart more in the past three weeks, than any man has ever done in my entire life.
I'm baffled and lucky and thankful that he's not only willing to put up with my brand of crazy, but wants to help exorcise my demons and help me work through things that realisitcally, I should have been able to work through myself in the past 39 years and most certainly would have been more fair to him, if I'd had.
The man, is truly amazing.
I love you RammerHammer.
Far more than I ever thought and/or felt possible.
Soooo....
The RammerHammer has been telling me to write and write and write, since he came back into my life last year...and I have...sporadically on my blog here.
I'm hoping to change that.
Here on my blog anyhoo.
I'm going to try to commit to a post-a-day.
Not much to do, now that things are somewhat settled finally, so it just might be doable!
I'll begin with a long-winded randomness, since there is a lot to catch up on.
Plus, I've just been scribbling random things down on little pieces of paper, here and there that I I knew I'd want to blog about but would forget if I didn't scribble them down.
Ready?
Good.
When the RammerHammer and his Ex (I'll come up with a nifty nick-name for her eventually) first split...they did things in a more unconventional way than is the norm.
Instead of them each getting a separate apartment and having the kids bounce back and forth...they got two apartments, one where the children would stay full time and one that they could bounce back and forth from on a weekly basis.
There was a study done in the UK that concluded this was a much better solution to benefit children of separation. With the upheavel of everything else that accompanies separation, a stable home environment, could only help. Not something to be done on a forever basis...but for the first 6 months or more. By that time, apparently, one or both spouses typically are involved with new significant others and the children are more used to the idea of living with each parent separately and it makes the adjustment of them switching back and forth instead of the parents an easier one.
I'd, personally, never heard of it when TheRammerHammer first told me about it, but it sounded like it made perfect sense.
I've since, read studies that both support and are against the theory.
For me... the proof is in the pudding.
The boys seem to be much better off than the children I've seen in the past dealing with a broken home, so to speak.
Anyhoo...we planned on the adults all going back and forth here until after the school year ended and when the boys and the Ex returned from the states in July...at which time we would establish the two separate households and the boys would begin coming back and forth instead.
Yeah. "Planned" was the key word.
That didn't happen.
A week after my arrival...the Ex decided that we should just get it done and over with and begin the process now.
Which meant three days of moving things back and forth from apartment to apartment.
Wait...let me rephrase that:
Which meant *TheRammerHammer and I*, moving things back and forth from apartment to apartment.
Because, ya see it was her week with the boys at the apartment she would be permanently living in now and even though the nanny is a live-in, she (the Ex) of course, was unable to participate.
Hence...TheRammerHammer worked his ass off and I doubled up on my meds for three days and did the same.
That...was the other things I was talking about in the previous post.
Much too long to get into and a simple explanation just wouldn't have cut it.
And I paid the price of laying in bed and wishing I would just fall asleep and not wake up for a week at the very least immediately following those three days.
But TheRammerHammer took very, very good care of me and I'm somewhat recovered now.
And it's our week with the boys, here at the new apartment and things are going smoothly thus far.
Everyone loves Moby. Well, almost everyone, but I'll get into that in a moment.
Suffice it to say that everyone in this apartment and on our floor, loves Moby and Moby loves all of them!
He especially loves the accumulative and copious amounts of foods that little boys tend to drop on accident/purpose.
And if I had to guess, I'd say that he also currently loves not having to compete with taller dogs when such food is dropped and/or thrown in the puppy's general direction! Not too mention the one-on-one attention that he's being utterly spolied by and with!
Now...I give you the goofy randomness:
Blowjob Bridge was re-christened. Did you expect that it wouldn't be? Silly!
And there is now what will be known as a "Double Fist Pump The Nuts Overpass" added to the map.
Thanks to the folks that work for the TSA, which I recently found out really stands for "Thousands Standing Around", two of my four suitcases were rummaged through whilest traveling and some of my things were mysteriously missing upon my arrival here.
TheRammerHammer...got quite the kick out of and imagined the perplexed looks on the TSA's faces, regarding some of the various things I brought with me here.
Things like...a box of important Christmas ornaments, some of my favorite cooking utensils, a can of baking powder (because all I could find here last December was baking soda), a bottle of Red Creek Marinade, my favorite pair of needle-nose pliars that I've owned since I moved out when I was 16, lot's of lingerie', three freezer bags of my meds, a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch, Hemostats to clean Moby's ears, a bag of IV fluids for dehydrated puppies and kitties I plan on rescuing here, some Cattle wormer (which incidentally is one of the things that was missing), my rooster and chicken salt & pepper shakers, Coco of course (although thanks to TheRammerHammer, it may have been pointless to bring him to the other side of the world!)...among others...
Yeah...it was probably the oddest assortment of things the TSA has seen in awhile.
Then again...maybe not.
Sounds like it would actually be an awesome and interesting blog...if anyone reading this happens to work for them...I'm just sayin' is all.
Next up: a recent late night conversation with TheRammerHammer ended with "Damn vertibrates are so inflexible!" Yeah...about made me pee my pants. I love this man and his humor is tailor fit to suit me just fine.
Back to everyone loves Moby.
This isn't entirely true.
Most of the locals...which consists of many, many nationalities...are actually very afraid of Moby.
They jump ten feet up and away, when the elevator doors open and they first realize he's present...and they really freak out when they jump ten feet straight up but there's no 'away' to jump to when they're in the elevator and we're waiting to get on!
They also cross to the other side of the street when we're on his daily walks.
It's quite comical.
Although I did get a woman from Bengladesh to actually pet him in the lobby the other morning.
The language barrier was an issue...but with some hand signs I was able to get her to understand that he just wanted to smell her and not bite her. Now she's in the lobby and wanting to pet him, everyday for his One O'clock walk.
This makes him not only a world traveler now...but also...a Good Will Em-Basset-or!!!
Oh yes.
Somewhere inside of yourself...you knew I would go there.
Thankfully...my brand of humor suits TheRammerHammer to a 'T' as well!
I can only imagine that if these people are scared of little, ol' Moby...okay, fine...a 43lb Basset Hound...they are going to be deathly afraid when the OzzyFozzyWalder arrives!
It's the desert here. Lot's of brown to look at.
I drool when I'm out on the balcony and I see the little garden balcony oasis's's's's around us, although there aren't that many.
TheRammerHammer bought me some planter pots and seeds the other day...so soon, I'll have some green in our little sea of brown. I can't wait!!!
And speaking of balconies...I need some help from city folk.
Frugal city folk.
Very frugal city folk.
Most people send their dirty laundry to be cleaned.
I don't and probably never will.
They have washers here...but not dryers.
Dryers aren't necessary.
You simply hang stuff out on a laundry-hangy-thingy on the balcony and viola! Things are dry within the hour.
'Cause it's the desert and all.
Problem I'm having...even with the liquid Downy...things still turn out pretty stiff.
Too stiff to my liking.
There's only two things I like stiff. Cocks and Tails. Yes. Combined and separate.
Anyone with the soft(er) laundry secrets to spare?
(Crossing fingers!)
Suduko - Daisy taught me how to do this last December for my long flight here. I started doing the one in the local paper each day since my arrival, when I can't sleep at night but I want to be quiet so as not to wake TheRammerHammer. Figured it can only help keep my mind sharp right? Nope. I was wrong. They tend to make me feel more stupid. I've yet to not screw up and finish a difficult one and I absolutely hate when I screw up a super-easy one.
Oh and since I can't find the other paper with the longer scribbled list right now...I'll end with this little doosey:
The Ex gave their nanny...a devout catholic, 40 year old, uber-sweet Fillipino woman...a box of condoms... and then told her she needed to get a boyfriend. And not a new, un-opened box of condoms...a box that she (the Ex) and her boyfriend had bought prior to her going back on the pill. The reason, although she didn't say this part to the nanny...is so that when her (the Ex's) boyfriend A comes to spend the night, the nanny can have somewhere else to go after she puts the boys to bed.
Yeah...it might take a little time to come up with a really, really, really nifty nick-name for this twit.
Ooops. Did I just type that for real?
My bad. I think.
Hope everyone is well;)
~ Anais Nin
And some of us, are made up of crazy.
Some of us...have our own little demons, carrying around bags full of crazy to sell.
Okay...to be more specific than "some of us"...I'm talking about me here.
As if you didn't know.
And then are people like TheRammerHammer.
Amazing.
Not only has he carried me to and from the vomit room/bedroom.
He's rubbed my back and arms and legs when the pills haven't helped the aching.
He's let me sleep, when I needed to sleep, no matter what the hour of day.
And when I've woke up at various mid-night hours/or been unable to sleep altogether...and cried (read that as sobbed like a little girl) about missing Daisy or my zoo or my friends and family...he's held me and listened and soothed me...even though it left him with vey little sleep and an early alarm for school the next day.
He's obliged my whims of what-kinda-sounds-like-it-might-taste-good run(s) to the grocery store...and not batted an eye, when I had a little bit and then immediately turned away for fear that even glancing at it, let alone taking another bite, might make me puke.
He's walked a Moby, fed a Moby and played with a Moby...whenever I've been in bed and unable to.
And most importantly...he's fed my soul and lightened the weight of my heart more in the past three weeks, than any man has ever done in my entire life.
I'm baffled and lucky and thankful that he's not only willing to put up with my brand of crazy, but wants to help exorcise my demons and help me work through things that realisitcally, I should have been able to work through myself in the past 39 years and most certainly would have been more fair to him, if I'd had.
The man, is truly amazing.
I love you RammerHammer.
Far more than I ever thought and/or felt possible.
Soooo....
The RammerHammer has been telling me to write and write and write, since he came back into my life last year...and I have...sporadically on my blog here.
I'm hoping to change that.
Here on my blog anyhoo.
I'm going to try to commit to a post-a-day.
Not much to do, now that things are somewhat settled finally, so it just might be doable!
I'll begin with a long-winded randomness, since there is a lot to catch up on.
Plus, I've just been scribbling random things down on little pieces of paper, here and there that I I knew I'd want to blog about but would forget if I didn't scribble them down.
Ready?
Good.
When the RammerHammer and his Ex (I'll come up with a nifty nick-name for her eventually) first split...they did things in a more unconventional way than is the norm.
Instead of them each getting a separate apartment and having the kids bounce back and forth...they got two apartments, one where the children would stay full time and one that they could bounce back and forth from on a weekly basis.
There was a study done in the UK that concluded this was a much better solution to benefit children of separation. With the upheavel of everything else that accompanies separation, a stable home environment, could only help. Not something to be done on a forever basis...but for the first 6 months or more. By that time, apparently, one or both spouses typically are involved with new significant others and the children are more used to the idea of living with each parent separately and it makes the adjustment of them switching back and forth instead of the parents an easier one.
I'd, personally, never heard of it when TheRammerHammer first told me about it, but it sounded like it made perfect sense.
I've since, read studies that both support and are against the theory.
For me... the proof is in the pudding.
The boys seem to be much better off than the children I've seen in the past dealing with a broken home, so to speak.
Anyhoo...we planned on the adults all going back and forth here until after the school year ended and when the boys and the Ex returned from the states in July...at which time we would establish the two separate households and the boys would begin coming back and forth instead.
Yeah. "Planned" was the key word.
That didn't happen.
A week after my arrival...the Ex decided that we should just get it done and over with and begin the process now.
Which meant three days of moving things back and forth from apartment to apartment.
Wait...let me rephrase that:
Which meant *TheRammerHammer and I*, moving things back and forth from apartment to apartment.
Because, ya see it was her week with the boys at the apartment she would be permanently living in now and even though the nanny is a live-in, she (the Ex) of course, was unable to participate.
Hence...TheRammerHammer worked his ass off and I doubled up on my meds for three days and did the same.
That...was the other things I was talking about in the previous post.
Much too long to get into and a simple explanation just wouldn't have cut it.
And I paid the price of laying in bed and wishing I would just fall asleep and not wake up for a week at the very least immediately following those three days.
But TheRammerHammer took very, very good care of me and I'm somewhat recovered now.
And it's our week with the boys, here at the new apartment and things are going smoothly thus far.
Everyone loves Moby. Well, almost everyone, but I'll get into that in a moment.
Suffice it to say that everyone in this apartment and on our floor, loves Moby and Moby loves all of them!
He especially loves the accumulative and copious amounts of foods that little boys tend to drop on accident/purpose.
And if I had to guess, I'd say that he also currently loves not having to compete with taller dogs when such food is dropped and/or thrown in the puppy's general direction! Not too mention the one-on-one attention that he's being utterly spolied by and with!
Now...I give you the goofy randomness:
Blowjob Bridge was re-christened. Did you expect that it wouldn't be? Silly!
And there is now what will be known as a "Double Fist Pump The Nuts Overpass" added to the map.
Thanks to the folks that work for the TSA, which I recently found out really stands for "Thousands Standing Around", two of my four suitcases were rummaged through whilest traveling and some of my things were mysteriously missing upon my arrival here.
TheRammerHammer...got quite the kick out of and imagined the perplexed looks on the TSA's faces, regarding some of the various things I brought with me here.
Things like...a box of important Christmas ornaments, some of my favorite cooking utensils, a can of baking powder (because all I could find here last December was baking soda), a bottle of Red Creek Marinade, my favorite pair of needle-nose pliars that I've owned since I moved out when I was 16, lot's of lingerie', three freezer bags of my meds, a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch, Hemostats to clean Moby's ears, a bag of IV fluids for dehydrated puppies and kitties I plan on rescuing here, some Cattle wormer (which incidentally is one of the things that was missing), my rooster and chicken salt & pepper shakers, Coco of course (although thanks to TheRammerHammer, it may have been pointless to bring him to the other side of the world!)...among others...
Yeah...it was probably the oddest assortment of things the TSA has seen in awhile.
Then again...maybe not.
Sounds like it would actually be an awesome and interesting blog...if anyone reading this happens to work for them...I'm just sayin' is all.
Next up: a recent late night conversation with TheRammerHammer ended with "Damn vertibrates are so inflexible!" Yeah...about made me pee my pants. I love this man and his humor is tailor fit to suit me just fine.
Back to everyone loves Moby.
This isn't entirely true.
Most of the locals...which consists of many, many nationalities...are actually very afraid of Moby.
They jump ten feet up and away, when the elevator doors open and they first realize he's present...and they really freak out when they jump ten feet straight up but there's no 'away' to jump to when they're in the elevator and we're waiting to get on!
They also cross to the other side of the street when we're on his daily walks.
It's quite comical.
Although I did get a woman from Bengladesh to actually pet him in the lobby the other morning.
The language barrier was an issue...but with some hand signs I was able to get her to understand that he just wanted to smell her and not bite her. Now she's in the lobby and wanting to pet him, everyday for his One O'clock walk.
This makes him not only a world traveler now...but also...a Good Will Em-Basset-or!!!
Oh yes.
Somewhere inside of yourself...you knew I would go there.
Thankfully...my brand of humor suits TheRammerHammer to a 'T' as well!
I can only imagine that if these people are scared of little, ol' Moby...okay, fine...a 43lb Basset Hound...they are going to be deathly afraid when the OzzyFozzyWalder arrives!
It's the desert here. Lot's of brown to look at.
I drool when I'm out on the balcony and I see the little garden balcony oasis's's's's around us, although there aren't that many.
TheRammerHammer bought me some planter pots and seeds the other day...so soon, I'll have some green in our little sea of brown. I can't wait!!!
And speaking of balconies...I need some help from city folk.
Frugal city folk.
Very frugal city folk.
Most people send their dirty laundry to be cleaned.
I don't and probably never will.
They have washers here...but not dryers.
Dryers aren't necessary.
You simply hang stuff out on a laundry-hangy-thingy on the balcony and viola! Things are dry within the hour.
'Cause it's the desert and all.
Problem I'm having...even with the liquid Downy...things still turn out pretty stiff.
Too stiff to my liking.
There's only two things I like stiff. Cocks and Tails. Yes. Combined and separate.
Anyone with the soft(er) laundry secrets to spare?
(Crossing fingers!)
Suduko - Daisy taught me how to do this last December for my long flight here. I started doing the one in the local paper each day since my arrival, when I can't sleep at night but I want to be quiet so as not to wake TheRammerHammer. Figured it can only help keep my mind sharp right? Nope. I was wrong. They tend to make me feel more stupid. I've yet to not screw up and finish a difficult one and I absolutely hate when I screw up a super-easy one.
Oh and since I can't find the other paper with the longer scribbled list right now...I'll end with this little doosey:
The Ex gave their nanny...a devout catholic, 40 year old, uber-sweet Fillipino woman...a box of condoms... and then told her she needed to get a boyfriend. And not a new, un-opened box of condoms...a box that she (the Ex) and her boyfriend had bought prior to her going back on the pill. The reason, although she didn't say this part to the nanny...is so that when her (the Ex's) boyfriend A comes to spend the night, the nanny can have somewhere else to go after she puts the boys to bed.
Yeah...it might take a little time to come up with a really, really, really nifty nick-name for this twit.
Ooops. Did I just type that for real?
My bad. I think.
Hope everyone is well;)
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