looky at me! i’m alive!

Which isn’t really saying much I suppose. I’m not sorry that I’ve been gone. Really, I’m not. I’ve been thoroughly enjoying 2 weeks of paid time off because……………I really did get the job! Be excited.

I have had a rough time of it over the last week or so.

Turns out, my husband is being deployed. In October. For a year. I’m sad. That really isn’t an adequate way of describing my emotions either, but I’m sure you get the point.

I don’t want to dwell on it since it’s 8 months away, so don’t you dwell on it either. Please. I mean, we’ll all have plenty of time to feel sorry for me from October on, so lets focus on happier things now, ok? I just though y’all should know now, since well, it’s like a big part of me right now.

Anyway, I promise that the posts won’t be so scarse once I start working again. I mean, what better time to post the fabulousness that is my daily routine, then when I should otherwise be working, right?

Ok, so tudaloo for now!

this is a first

I LOVE being married!!!!! It enabled me to change my [last] name from one that I swear 80% of American’s have (ok, maybe I’m exaggerating a little) to one that barely anyone has!

Check this out (thanks lemons):

This is with my maiden name, first and last combined -

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 7,695 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

This is with my married name, still first and last combined-

 

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 3 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

proof that the south does not contain all the hicks in this country

Read this please.

Pardon me.

WHAT?!

Did you read the last sentence? Her FOURTH at 24!

I must be way behind because I have ZERO at 22.

Update: I just realized that I really may be falling behind, because my mom was pregnant we me at my age!

i’m the other woman

I MAY HAVE A JOB SOON PEOPLE!!!!!

Did you read that? Carefully, I mean. In English? Not that there’s another option. Of a language to read that in, I mean. Because if it’s written in English that surely that’s the language you would read it in. Ok.

Now that that’s out of the way, lets get to the topic at hand. 

Today, while I was working hard on my second to last day at Big Monster Company, I received a phone call from a number I had never before seen, and instead of ignoring it which I am wont to do with an unfamiliar number, I picked up. I’m glad.

It was a company I had applied to about a month ago and never heard from afterwards, because why would you call a worthy, skillful candidate back right away? You’re supposed to ignore them for a month, didn’t you know that? Unemployed? Don’t worry, that job you applied for a month ago will be calling you any day now.

So they called, and I picked up. And the person on the phone told me that they may have a position opening soon that I may be interested in, can they have a moment of my time to ask me a few questions. And it was all I could do not to dance and sing and shout YES! really loudly in the person’s ear because really, my current job is not important enough to stop me from trying to obtain another.

So we chatted. About my skill set and what they’re looking for in a person that they would like to fill this particular position. But I kept wondering why this person was talking about the position as if someone already had it.

Turns out someone does already have the position. They’re looking to can her because she’s not all that great at what she does and for some reason, the me on paper sounds good enough to replace this poor woman. (which I would like to point out is very odd, because since I don’t have a college education, I feel as though I sell myself much better in person, but oh well)

So I’m supposed to use “the utmost discretion” because they don’t want the other woman to know that they’re looking to replace her. They gave me all of their personal contact information (phone,email) not their business information because they don’t want the old woman to find out about me.

My interpretation of “the utmost discretion” is to, of course, write about it here.

I’m sorry old woman, if you happen to read this, but apparently, I make them feel young and alive again and you just nag and tell them that they can’t spend time with their friends and yell all the time like, would they clean up after themselves already?! I don’t put that kind of pressure on them.

Plus you’ve kind of let yourself go, and I’m younger and prettier and really, isn’t that all that matters in a relationship like this?

in which i decide that my governor is a moron (well alright, i already knew)

Do you find that it’s easy to drive in icy conditions? Is it safe?

It must be, because our blessed governor has decided thusly.

No state of emergency here. Why? I mean, maybe there haven’t been enough accidents this morning to justify it. I guess 3 in the span of 10 minutes isn’t good enough. What about the 1″ of ice that has taken up residence on the outside of my car. My windows too, for that matter. And the roads. They’re a solid sheet of ice too. Is this not justification enough?

I stayed home from work today for a couple of reasons:

1. I am choosing to boycott all establishments that decided to open their doors this morning, therefore requiring people to work. To risk their lives. For a job.

2. My last day is Friday anyway.

3. My car got the worst crash test rating of every vehicle on the market.

4. Maybe this will somehow negatively affect how much money is in the governor’s paycheck this month.

5. I hope it does. She’s stupid.

6. I stayed up late watching Dirt, and was tired this morning.

On a different note, I got my hair done again last night. I got some caramel and light blonde highlights over an almost-black background. I really like it.

If I looked halfway decent I would post pictures, but alas, I am still in my pajamas.

I hope those of you who were nailed with the same weather conditions as I, stuck it to “the man” and stayed home too.

If so, enjoy your snow-day. If not, you suck.

it’s ok, we’re here to catch you when you fall

I don’t want to do this. Not here. Not on such a public forum. Not when I know that she may actually make her way over to my blog at some point in her life and read this.

But I do want to. I want to write it all down, because I can never express it properly in person. I want her to know that she’s making a big mistake. I do want her to read this.

Because I love her.

I’ll start with this.

I know what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to constantly wonder how he’s feeling about you, if he’s feeling about you. To wonder if his eyes are fixed only on you, or if they dart all over the place in hopes of finding something better. To wonder if he’s still talking to, still seeing her. And just how many other “hers” there really are.

I know how it feels, and I know that it sucks.

I know that you’re trapped. Trapped in between what your heart is telling you and what your mind is pleading with you to listen to. Trapped in between what family and friends say and what he says. Trapped in between the knowledge that you will find someone else and the fear that you won’t.

I know.

I know that you’re invested. I know that you’re scared. I know that you’re in love.

But love doesn’t hurt.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” (I Corinthians 13: 4-7 NIV)

Does he love you like that? He should. But he doesn’t, does he?

There’s someone out there who can, no, will love you like that, if only you’d let him. If only you’d free yourself from the grips of a relationship that has changed the very essence of your being.

If only.

I don’t know what else to say. After I heard that you two were “kinda, sorta, possibly back on again” it made me ill. Ill to think that he gets you without appreciating you. Without appreciating your devotion and perseverance. Without understanding that he’s with one of the greatest women out there that I’ve ever known. He doesn’t get it. And it hurts me.

I wish you would get it. I wish you would walk out his door leaving him to wonder why he gave up such a great woman.

I know one day you will get it. One day you’ll walk away, shake off the dust and cobwebs of his “grip” on you and never look back.

And then he’ll call you.

But you won’t answer, you’ll be too busy with the love of your life to even care that he cares.

And it is then that I’ll smile.

thanks for giving me something to post

You guys, I tell ya, some of the things you’re searcing that bring you to me would make Anna Nicole blush. In the grave.

“affair with brother-in-law”

“Jessica Alba topless”

“alba naked fake”

“jessica Alba breast”

“I want to feminize my husband”

“husband wants to feminize his breasts” (why, oh why?!)

“kung fu honeys”

Give it a rest already.

the one where my little brother kicks major butt

In every family, there’s always one.

The one who’s different, quiet. Reserved and shy, sensitive and easily embarrassed. That’s my brother Ben.

He’s not like my other brothers. They’re into and good at football and most other sports. They’re men’s men. Manly men.

Ben’s more sensitive. He’s more interested in drawing, was never really interested in sports like football, but more interested in Martial Arts. You’re more likely to see him cry than the other 2.

Different.

Socially, he’s different too. Myself, and my other siblings all ranged from slightly above average to popular, having lots of friends and social gatherings to attend.

Not Ben. Ben’s one of those kids who just doesn’t have ‘it’ socially. He’s not like a nerd or anything. He’s just not popular. His group of friends is smaller and they’re friendship is based more off of not fitting in with others than actually having things in common with each other.

Ben also gets picked on. A lot. By mean kids who have nothing better to do with their time than pick on someone who’s different than them. Sometimes, Ben would come home crying after a day at school with these bullies. Other days he was just quiet, having bore their name calling, and sometimes, physical attacks, all without defending himself.

Ben’s been dealing with this practically since he started school, but it started getting worse last year with the onset of the dreaded Middle School years.

Two kids in particular have made his time there miserable. Two little punks who name-call like it’s going out of style.

Recently, one of the kids was expelled for punching a teacher. A real class act. I’m sure his parents are wonderful people.

The other kid, well, he’s still around, still provoking, still hitting, still bullying.

Now, Ben, he’s a pretty tall kid. At 13 he’s almost as tall as I am, and I’m 5′10″. He’s already passed his oldest brother in height, and is well on his way to matching, if not passing the other who is taller than me.

 Ben doesn’t know his strength.

As the youngest of five children, and the third boy, he had no choice but to oblige his brothers with the occasional wrestling match, because that’s what boys do. So he would wrestle. Even though he may not have been that into it, he would play football too, because he idolizes his older brothers and wants to be like them, even though he may not be as talented. He would tackle. Kids the size of the older brothers and bigger. He did it to spend time with them. And they wanted him to come along too. Ben can hold his own against my husband who is 6′5″. They all wrestle and play together. It’s a good time.

Ben goes to school every day. He’s not the best, he’s not the worst. He always gets good behavior reports from teachers. He’s a good kid.

Today, the bully pushed the wrong button too hard, too fast.

While in class, the bully smacked him on the back of his head, and he ignored it. The bully cussed at him and he ignored it. The bully called him names and he ignored it.

After class, in the hallway, the bully smacked him again.

This time, he didn’t ignore it.

Ben is suspended now for three days. When brother Zach went to go pick him up from school he said that Ben had blood all over him.

There wasn’t a scratch on his person.

The sensitive one? He’s still sensitive to me.

He had this kid down on the ground, just hitting him. Not a teacher in site would touch him. They’re excuse was that they didn’t want to get involved. Welcome to the public school system.

My brother actually stopped the fight himself once he realized that this kid wasn’t resisting anymore. He went to get a teacher to tell on himself and clean up some of the mess.

I don’t care what you have to say, I’m proud of my little brother.

I don’t think this kid will have much to say to him after today, do you?

to the inventor of the t-shirt quilt, on behalf of all married women everywhere: thank you

When I met my husband he was just about as fashion-conscience as every other red-blooded, straight, non-metro-sexual, college guy out there. Which is to say, not much. Still isn’t.

His “outfits” (this word is actually one I’m strictly prohibited from using in regards to his attire because “men don’t wear outfits”, but it’s my blog, so there) consisted of the following:

-T-shirt; whether it be labeled with his university name or just a “great” thriftstore find

-Khakis; they’re comfy

-Birkenstocks; albeit it old beat up ones that he still owns, and wore all the time, regardless of the weather conditions.

Now. I don’t know about you other ladies, but I prefer a man who has a teeny-tiny-bit more fashion sense than this. I also understand that fashion sense is something guys either have or they don’t. They are malleable, however, and this is where we women-folk come in.

I had experience with “dressing men” to my liking prior to my husband. More specifically, my brother.

Whatever I found attractive in the menswear of the time, I would usually influence my brother into wearing. I did make some fashion faux-pas throughout the years, but for the most part, my brother always dressed very nicely, with my help of course, and he still does now, without my help. (for the most part)

I thought that my husband would be just as easy to “handle”, but I was wrong. He liked those darn t-shirts. Loved them in fact, and it made dressing him my way quite difficult.

Fast forward 3 years. We’re married now, and I pretty much have total control over his wardrobe. This is my right as his wife (I like to think) and the best thing for both of us because I don’t have to worry about him donning t-shirts and khakis and he doesn’t really have to think about what to wear because it’s pretty much laid out for him.

I still had nightmares about the t-shirts though. They were consuming my thoughts. What if one day, out of force of habit he reverted back to his old ways. Whatever would I do?!

Enter Mother-In-Law and her fabulous t-shirt quilt idea. She’s made these quilts for husband’s older siblings and now it’s his turn. She views it as a scrapbook of his highschool/college years, I view it as the ultimate assurance that he will never again wear any of those horrid t-shirts. Muwahahahahahaha.

And just in case you think I’m some sort of terrible controlling person, a brief synopsis of the t-shirts he was wearing are as follows:

- A ‘Simpsons’ t-shirt showing the “evolution” of Homer with the word ‘Homer-sapian” underneath

- 80 gajillion Ranger challenge t-shirts with interesting logos on the back

- A red t-shirt he got from the thriftstore with the word ‘Retirement’ on the front

- One with a picture of a boxing kangaroo on the front

- One that said Got Gas? on the front and had Crude and the number 8 on the back

I could go on and on, but you get the point, right? You can sympathize with me I’m sure.

But also rejoice in the knowledge that he can NEVER WEAR THEM AGAIN!!!!!

have you been reading? well, me too

This is for anyone who reads my blog that also reads this blog.

Visit here.

And just for kicks, why not go here too. It may just change your perspective.