A Career Woman and A Housewife

Here's the deal, this our blog... This is where we come to write about our lives. The Good. The Bad. The Ugly. And of course, The Beautiful. We welcome anyone to come on in, take a look around and have a few laughs. Nothing makes us happier than nice comments and finding a new BLOG friend. If you can't handle what we have to say, just leave quietly and pretend you've never been here...We will retaliate.

Thursday, March 31, 2005

Looking Forward to the FIVE YEAR

My day started with Big Daddy waking me up at 5:00 a.m. to tell me Happy Anniversary before he left for work. I guess he forgot that he also woke me up at 2:30a.m. to tell me, as well. He also called me just about every hour while he was at work, just to remind me what he was doing 4 years ago at that time.

The 9:00a.m. phone call
Big Daddy: Nik, I was puking in my parents back yard right now cause I was so nervous

The 10:00a.m. phone call
Big Daddy: Nik, My Mom was forcing me to eat right now so that I wouldn't pass out at the alter

The 11:00a.m. phone call
Big Daddy: Nik, I was puking in the back yard again

The 1:30p.m. phone call
Big Daddy: Nik, the photographer was at my house right now, it took him over an hour to get a good picture because I kept running to the back yard to puke.

The 2:30p.m. phone call
Big Daddy: Nik, we were at the church right now, you were downstairs with the girls, I was puking in the vestibule

The 3:00p.m. phone call
Big Daddy: Nik, you were walking down the aisle right now...I was shaking so bad...you were so beautiful.

The 5:00p.m. phone call
Big Daddy: We were headed to the reception hall right now, God was I hungry after all that puking, good thing I wasn't nervous anymore.

Big Daddy got home around 6:00p.m. I went to take a quick shower before we went out to eat. Big Daddy just couldn't resist sticking his head into the shower at 7:00p.m. to say "Nik, we were having a blast at the reception right now. "

Now that I am completely brushed up on my wedding day itinerary we headed out to eat at Olive Garden.

The girls were surprisingly good. I only got a breadstick thrown at me twice, this is quite an improvement. Isabella actually ate her whole meal and Sophia screamed at the lady beside us, until she waved at her. We seriously never leave a restaurant without every person there knowing what my children's names are and how old they are...Isabella will stop at every table on the out and tell anyone that is willing to listen, "My name is Isabella and my sister's name is Sophie. I'm this many (holding up three fingers) and Sophie is 1, cause hers stills a baby."
And of course every person will respond and encourage Bella to keep talking to them and SHE WILL, it does not take too much persuasion. It took us a good hour just to get out the door.
Mental note: ask for the table closest to the door, next time.
Side note: Isabella will give that same speech to EVERY cashier we meet at EVERY store we go to EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
It was so cute at first, now it's just exhausting. Every person will then smile and look at up me and tell me how adorable my children are and then I'm forced to smile back and graciously thank them and 8 out of 10 old woman will then have to tell me how their daughter was just like that when she was little blah blah blah.

So now we're home, Big Daddy has not forgotten to tell me that 4 years ago at this time (11:30p.m.) we were on our way to the hotel which he adds was his favorite part. Guess I got to go do something about that (wink,wink).

Oh and if anyone was wondering what Big Daddy and Housewife were doing 5 years ago on this date Check it out here.

Another year of wedded bliss!

Hopefully next year I'll have a babysitter!

N'ght y'all


UPDATE: It's Friday morning, Big Daddy called me at 8:00a.m. to say "Nik, this was our first whole day as a married couple." I'm beginning to wonder if this is going to go on for the rest of the day. Maybe he thinks I have forgotten all this.....who knows.....More than likely, it's just Big Daddy's way of being sweet and sentimental - that's why I love him so!

Wednesday, March 30, 2005


Update for Funeral:

Ok, so problem solved. My parents can't meet me in Scranton anyway. So I now have no way home, period! I still feel bad about not being home but at least now I know for sure that there is no way that I could have been there, this makes me feel a wee bit better. As for my anniversary, John and I will be going out to eat with the girls (cause we don't have a baby-sitter) I'm sure this will be unbelievably romantic and all, with screaming children, spilt drinks, flying utensils, pulled tablecloths, no alcohol, excapes from the highchair, saucy hands soiling my clothes, 5 trips to the restroom just so Isabella could see what it looks like and wash her hands, and at least 1 diaper change.
I could hardly wait (?)

The next update concerns my Wells Fargo fiasco:

Anyone who actually reads all of this will surely remember my circus act with the Wells Fargo call center. Who really could forget Ill-advised Degenerate Dave and Asinine Imbecile Jim, I mean they ARE the poster children for Customer Service. Huh!

During my phone conversation, last month with Wells Fargo, Asinine Imbecile Jim was able to tell me that their bills get sent out on the 21st of every month and that if I did not receive a bill by the 28th, to call them. (This completely made sense to me because if you remember my Grandma received my bill for March on February 28th) That may have been the smartest thing that Asinine Imbecile Jim has ever said. Yey him!

I have been patiently waiting until March 28th to see if my bills for April will come in the mail or if I will get a phone call my Grandma. March 28th rolls around - no bill and no phone call, HMMM.

I make the dreaded call to the Well Fargo call center once again.

Amazingly Mindful Monica answers the phone. (woooh, I was sure relieved not hear Dave or Jim's voice). Amazingly Mindful Monica is cheerful, she speaks loud and clear and is soothingly helpful. WHOO HOOO!

So I explain the whole situation to Amazingly Mindful Monica who, may I add, did not interrupt me once and actually sat there and listened to every word I had to say. I love her. After hearing my horrible story, she gives the cutest little giggle and says "Well I see the what the problem is right here."

Nikki: (smile ear to ear, thinking "please God, let her say something useful)

Amazingly Mindful Monica: It looks here as if we received the bill we sent you in February back. It was marked "undeliverable" by the Post Office. Anytime we get mail sent back to us, we automatically send the bill to the next available address on the account which was your Grandmother. Therefore she has been receiving all of the mail concerning your loan since January when we got February's bill back.

Nikki: Uh-huh, that is understandable, but I don't know why it would have been marked undeliverable? I've been getting all of my other mail.

Amazingly Mindful Monica: Your apartment number is listed on the first line of the address block on our computer, sometimes if billing doesn't correctly enter it on the second line of the address block, the computer cuts it off while printing the bill. So if it didn't show your apartment number, more than likely the postman sent it back.

Nikki: Oh, OK....can you fix it.

Amazingly Mindful Monica: I already did and I'll resend April's bill to you, you should still receive it in plenty of time before the payment is due.

Nikki: Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. You have been wonderful! I really appreciate it. But do you have any idea why Dave and the Supervisor Jim, couldn't just tell me that when I called about this a month ago?

Amazingly Mindful Monica: I'm not sure, this information would have been in the computer as soon as received the first piece of mail back, there is no reason they shouldn't have known this. I'm sorry.

Nikki: That's OK. Thank you so much. Bye.

It's like taking a breath of fresh air, talking to that Amazingly Mindful Monica...as for Dave and Jim, I hope they rot in hell!
I really hope this has put an end to my Wells Fargo hatred.

Next update, EASTER:

With everything going on, I didn't get a chance to talk about my Easter. It was very quiet and lonely. It was the first Easter that spent away from my family. Not too much drama.

The day started at 5:30a.m. when Sophia came climbing into bed with me and John. She had a mouth full of Hershey Kisses (and a little foil) and a box of Nerds in her hand. She obviously made a pit stop at the Easter baskets on her way from her room into ours. Sophia was ready to go, she couldn't wait to dig into her basket and open up all the little eggs we had hidden all over the livingroom. Sleeping Beauty (aka Isabella) on the other hand, did not want to wake up! We had to force her out of bed, she WAS NOT too happy about this. So I let them look for all the hidden eggs. Sophia went full speed again. Bella stood there half asleep, pouting with her arms crossed until I told her Sophia was going to get all the eggs and she would have any....then it was war.

After the egg hunt they opened their basket, got a bath and we headed off to Church.

We cooked a modest Easter Dinner just for the four of us and relaxed the rest of the day, watching Bambi and Shark Tales (the girls got them for Easter).
This was frequently interrupted by by Mom calling every 5 minutes, crying because we weren't there, calling to say who stopped by, calling to see what the girls were doing, calling to say my Grandma and Grandpa were there, calling to say that my aunt and uncle from North Carolina were in town and coming over to eat, asking me what I was doing, reminding me to send pictures, and every other question she could think of asking. Just as those phone calls seised, John's mom started. OY!

So that was that, not real exciting....but here's a pictures of the girls in their Easter dresses.

Easter Posted by Hello

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Really Bummed

So Big Daddy can't get off work to take me into New Castle for the funeral, this has me all sad and feeling really bad about myself because I'm the asshole best friend that can't even be there for Morgan in this terrible time of her life. I suck. I shouldn't even be allowed to be anyone's best friend.

I also suck because being the awesome husband that Big Daddy is, he has offered to take me half way into Scranton PA and have my parents meet him there and take me the rest of the way home and if he does this that means he, a) will be driving back 5 hours by himself after spending 10 hours on the road and get up at 5:00a.m. and go to work the next morning. Just for me. and b)He would be doing this on Wednesday night and our 4th Wedding Anniversary is on Thursday which means we won't be together for it. But he is willing to sacrifice this, just to make me happy cause I want to be there for Morgan. I actually am thinking about taking him up on this. I suck. I shouldn't even be allowed to be anyone's wife.

So WHAT DO I DO???!!!!!!????


I suck.

So now that I have concvinced myself that I am indeed the most terrible person IN. THE. WORLD. I still don't know what to do.

I mean Morgan has Pumpkinface to be by herside. Does she even really need me there? As a friend, should I even really care if she needs me or not, I should just be there, right?
On top of that, Morgan's Gram was a VERY WONDERFUL person that I knew. I should be there, anyway, even if it had nothing to do with Morgan.
I could send flowers and a card, I mean Morgan and her family will surely understand that I live far away now, right?
But I do have the opportunity to get home, but what about Big Daddy? I wasn't here to spend his last birthday with him, because I was in PA, and now if go home, I'll be leaving him all by himself on our anniversary. COULD THIS BE ANY WORSE?

I feel so shitty!

Any help?

-Housewife (who doesn't deserve to be a wife)

P.S. and please don't suggest flying, because I am deathly afraid to fly and absolutely REFUSE to do it for the first time by myself with the girls. Thank you. I know I suck.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Sad News

I'm sorry to announce that Morgan's Gram passed away. I'm going to try to get home at some point over the next few days, so there may not be many posts. Please keep Morgan and her family in your thoughts and prayers.
- Nikki

Friday, March 25, 2005

A Few New Things

First of all..................


The second thing is: My brother-in-law Chris is a school teacher and his school went to the Basketball State Playoff in Hershey PA. He and his fiance went to the game and bought Isabella and Sophia these cute little Hershey Chocolate cups with a cow hanging over the brim. Everytime she would take a drink out of it, her eyes would go crossed looking at the cow. WAY.TOO.FUNNY.

Sophia on the other hand, was a little confused. She was mistaking it as a sippy cup and was trying to suck the drink out of the cows head. SO.CUTE.

The third thing is: I actually convinced Ryan into startng his own blog. YEY ME! I'm so excited because now I get to see what Ryan is up to every day and I promise he will bring the FUNNY - cause that's just Ryan! MUAH! So go and visit him HERE

And the last think I have to say after all of this is: FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET JESUS there HAS to be a faster and easier way to post multiple pictures on one post! GOOD LORD, it took me an hour to do this!


Thursday, March 24, 2005

A Mall Trip

You all remember Alex right? My sister, the one who made the varisty cheerleading squad, the cute, skinny, muscular little Alex right? Well, Alex almost wasn't going to be very cute anymore after last night. My mom came up with the funny idea for me to take my sister shopping yesterday for some new jeans, etc... (because her "friend" has started visiting, and now her body is slightly altering). Excellent idea mother. I will bless my sister with a Career Woman's fashion advice, she will be styling even more, and I will pick up a few things for moi.

I expressed to my sister that although mall attire does consist of a cute, little sweatsuit, when you are trying on jeans or dress pants - some type of footwear must be worn in order to see how the pants will fit over them. Duh. Cardinal rule...hellooooo?! She fought with me and insisted on wearing tennis shoes. She is obviously but-a-pup when it comes to shopping. We finally got to the mall, fed our tummies with some chinese and to Hollister we went.

My sister has mistaken me and my family for some derivation of Donald Trump. She insists that we go outside in the backyard and pick our money off of a tree. Alex picked up the $60 Hollister jeans, with the rips and the sequins... I told myself "whatever," my mom gave her the money, she can spend it as she wishes. But the jeans, DID. NOT. FIT. HER. They were baggy in the front and baggy in the back, but for some reason, had them still in her hand at the check-out line. There went royal rumble 2. She put them back and we headed off to some other stores.

I purchased some cute dressy outfits for myself for work, school, etc. I decided that it is time to get out of the Wet Seal - Charlotte Russe faze, and move on to something better. More professional. Classy. I still can't do it. I stayed away from Charlotte Russe, but I will say that I did purchase some cute capris and pants in Wet Seal. We moved on to 5.7.9. to get Alex some jeans because she has moved (watch out people) from a size 00 to a size 0. And yes, she is upset about this. She tried on a cute pair of jeans in a size 0, fit her perfectly, and cheap too - didn't want 'em. Then she tried on another pair in size 0 and they were too tight. She would not, and I mean WOULD NOT, try a size 1. I now refer to her as anorexia nervousa. Honestly, who gets upset over a size 1? Please tell me. So we fought over that. We fought in 5.7.9., Hollister, Bath and Body Works, and PacSun.

We finally went back into Hollister to get her a pair of jeans, (not the $60 ones that did not fit her), but another pair - drove home, and then I, yes, I got yelled at for buying clothes because I am getting married in like the next century. Who says that when you reach the age of 18, you are considered an adult...talk to my mother please.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

At Least I Tried

Erin has inspired me! She has taught herself how to knit. I'm deeply impressed by this. She is making herself a wonderful scarf...see.

I have been wanted to teach myself to crochet for years and now I have hope.

So today after I took Isabella to dance class, I went to JoAnn Fabric's and hooked myself up with crocheting equipment. I am determined. I am excited. I am hopeful.
After an hour of trial and error...I made a chain. Then I moved on to building onto the chain.
I was so amazed with what I had accomplished that I didn't bother to count my rows, that was mistake number 1. I also didn't pay too much attention to making my stitches the same length, that was mistake number 2. And I'm sure I made all kinds of other mistakes but, who knows, who cares, I was crocheting and whatever I was making was getting bigger! This brought me great joy.

So after about a half hour I made this.......

Posted by Hello

I do not know what it is. I do not know what it was supposed to be. I don't know what I will do with it. I'm not even too sure that it is from this planet. But it is crocheted and it was crocheted by me. YEY!
(I could possibly use it as a doilie for my lipstick....it's that small. Don't know. I do know that it definitely needs to be publicly displayed!)

Also, when I stood up, I was incredibly dizzy and I saw black spots. I was either concentrating way too hard or I need glasses. I'll need to do something about that.

Practice makes perfect. So I'll practice a little each day. Someday I might actually make something that's useful. And when I do....watch out....because all that my friends will every get from me, is something that I crocheted............ for Birthdays, Christmas, Weddings, New Baby's, Housewarmings...you get the picture. And you will all smile and graciously thank me and love it forever, that's an order!


Monday, March 21, 2005

St. Patty's Parade

South Boston's annual St. Patty's Day Parade was held yesterday. I couldn't wait to go because I'm half of an Irish Lass ya know! I was totally bummed the night before because after 5 straight days of blissful sunshine, it was supposed to rain on Sunday for the parade :( And if it rained, Big Daddy didn't want to go. But as my Irish Luck would have it......THERE WAS NO RAIN! It was near 50 degrees and beautiful! A little windy by the waterfront...but not a cloud in the sky!

If you've never been to South Boston, I'll paint the picture for you:
The south end of Boston is the Irish part of town, mostly referred to as "Southie." It's a very well-to-do area, you can't get a townhouse for under a million dollars-no joke. It is distinguished by Victorian brownstones that also will not sell under a million. About 3/4 of every Massachusetts politician lives in Southie. And in all of it's wealth, you will not cross a corner without seeing an Irish Pub. Southie also houses some of the best restaurants in Boston.
Oh and it has a rather large Gay community and when I say gay I'm not referring to happy little drunk, Irish, leprechauns. Or am I?

The parade was awesome. It's the second largest in the US, taking the back seat to New York City's St. Patrick's Parade. And what made it all the more interesting is...in Boston you are allowed to drink alcohol, in the streets, if it is in a plastic cup... Drunks. Every. Where.
We were assured by the local residents that the only time you'll see this many drunks roaming the streets in Southie is during this parade...it's the day they can pay tribute to their heritage and not ruin their social status by bonging for the news camera's.

The highlight of the parade for Isabella and Sophia were the beautiful horses...hundreds of them......The highlight for Big Daddy and I was when the group of drunk guys next to us, were yelling "certain things" to one of the girls on the Guinness Beer float and she in return (obviously drunk herself, holding a "plastic cup") yells at the top of her lungs into the crowd that is mind you, full of CHILDREN..... "Go Fuckin' Do It To Yourselves!" It was classic!

So here we are, all gussied-up for Shamrock Day!
Posted by Hello


When Is The Next Gambler's Anonymous Meeting?

My name is Morgan, and I have a gambling problem. So, apparently the first step to nipping any addiction is to admit you have a problem, while I have accomplished Step 1, however, I don't want to quit. It is sooo much fun. Yesterday, me, Pumpkinface, his sister, and her fiance (a.k.a. Jamie and Eric) went to Mountaineer yesterday. For those of you that don't know what Mountaineer is, it is one of the closet gambling casinos in West Virginia (reminder that we do not live in West Virginia - thank the good Lord). There are horse races, shows, and slot machines galore.

I do not pride myself on being a good gambler. Actually, I am fairly cheap when it comes to my own money. I never saw the point in paying for something that you get nothing in return. Sure I tend to shop my ass off, but I use the fact that at least I get to look all pretty and stuff in my new clothes as my offense. When you gamble, your odds are not well. I know that if I am paying for a shirt, I am damn well, getting a shirt, along with a receipt and a bag to put it in. But I did gamble yesterday...with Pumpkinface's money. That is ALWAYS fun. Then it's not so bad when you lose. You just stick your hand out, give the puppy dog eye's and you get another 20 to put in the slot machine that you have been sitting at for nearly an hour, sure that it is going to hit something big.

Well, Pumpkinface and I really didn't hit anything big, but Jamie and Eric did. Yup. She actually had cut off Eric from putting any more money in the slot machines because they have a wedding coming up too. But he snuck, and luckily he did. That sucker hit the slot machine for 4,000 quarters - if ya'll could do the math that is a good 1,000 smackeroos. Sweet Bejeebus, I know. But we were so happy for them, because they are going to pay for their wedding flowers with that - how nice huh? Everybody go "Aweeee."

Pumpkinface and I were really happy for them, but we were not afraid to admit alittle jealous. Hey, we have a wedding coming too ya know, and it would be nice to buy a house so we don't have to live with one of our parents, right? So we decided to split up with Jamie and Eric. Pumpkinface and I were on a mission I tell ya. We went from one quarter machine to the next. We cheered when we won two credits and we came up with a system. We would put $20 in a machine, and that would give us 80 credits, once we spend half and got down to 40 credits ($10), we would cash out and find another machine. We cashed out a lot, still very well in the hole, then we saw "the" machine. It almost had a glowing aura about it. Like it was calling us... "Pumpkinface, Career Woman... come playyyyy meeee." So we stuck a twenty into it. We decided to go all the way with this one and didn't cash out when we got to $40 credits. When we had around 10 credits left, we hit for a $125.00. Yippee - better than nothin' right. I made Pumpkinface cash out then and then it was my "gambler instinct" (runs in the family) to put another $20 in the machine next to it. Shabowe! $112.00. Of course I kept my portion and he kept his, although it's all his money... hehehe - He loves me!

So now I am slightly obsessed. I hit the jackpot one year in the Bahamas vacationing with my family for $5,000.00. It all went to Duquesne, but I believe that that is the last time that I won anything...EVER. Now, I got the itch. I want to go back. Have to go back. Must Gamble.

~Career Woman

Saturday, March 19, 2005

You Are Now Entering The Twilight Zone

Attention: Housewife's phenomenal Cosmic Powers have now enhanced themselves into Phenomenal Psychic Cosmic Powers.

I woke up from a dream this morning. I was dreaming that I was riding a bicycle at this intersection back home in New Castle (for those of you that know, I was making a left from Cascade onto Butler Road at the old BP Station). As I'm making the corner, I totally wipe-out on my bike. Ouch. So I pick myself up and go over the BP Station. I grab my cell phone and frantically try to call Big Daddy, the call will not go through. I then try to call Bertha, again, the phone call will not connect. I try over and over and I'm crying. So I go into the Diner (the BP Station had a Diner attached to it, in my dream.) I sit down at a booth in the Diner and John Stamos and Candice Cameron are sitting with me, trying to calm me down. Weird.

I then wake up from my goofy dream.

I walk into the living room. Isabella is already awake. She's sitting on the couch watching TV. Frickin' FULL HOUSE is on the frickin' TV. I'm standing there starring at John Stamos and Candice Cameron on my TV after I just woke up from talking to them in the my dream.

So I go about my normal morning routine...you guessed it...unloading my dishwasher. My life IS fabulous. After a while I look at the clock and it's 8:19. Hmmm. This is strange. Bertha hasn't called yet. She calls at 8:00 on the dot Every. Single. Morning. She is 19 minutes late, clearly something is wrong. So I pick up the phone to call her. No dial tone. I try again. Nothing. I'm getting a little panicked by now. I run into my bedroom and pick up that phone. It's dead. I'm officially panicked now. So I run to my cell phone and call Big Daddy. He's glad to hear from me cause he was worried, he tried calling all morning and the line was busy. I explain, that the line is dead. He calls Verizon and calls me back stating that there apparently was an accident this morning and half of Littleton is without phone service.
Alrighty, then.

I now have NO. Phone. No. Internet Service. All. Day. Great!

Big Daddy comes home from work this evening and said that there are a dozen Verizon trucks fixing a telephone pole on the other side of the 495 bridge by my house. That must have been where the accident was. Guess What Peeps!!!!!!! The road on the other side of that bridge is called Butler Road!
JUST LIKE the "Butler Road" I was on in my dream back home, where I had an "accident", where I was "trying to call" Bertha and Big Daddy and "I couldn't" because "my phone wouldn't work" and as an added bonus, the whole Full House/John Stamos/Candice Cameron thing. dododododododo I feel like I have entered the Twilight Zone.

Don't you just hate when that kind of thing happens to you? I do this all the time!

Needless to say I'm totally weirded out by this.
Also needless to say, our phone lines are finally working now and it's midnight. Finally!

Oh and as an UPDATE on the Smelly Blob of Poo situation: I had every intention of trying Erin's advice today, but my children did not nap. I did however, manage to paint my toe-nails, which is an improvement. At least my feet look sexy. (Career Woman, sorry if I just gave you a vision of my feet - I know how you feel about them)

Until next time.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Sinora Scott Peterson

So, what is the deal with all the crazy people in this world these days? I swear that every single time I turn on the news, another crazy person is on the loose, doing crazy-ass things. For one, I hate, HATE Scott Peterson and he will burn in hell. That poor Laci, Conner, and her family. What an absolute tragedy!

I have admittingly become obsessed with Court TV and Courttv.com. And the more obsessed I become with these forms of news reporting, the more I come to the realization that everyone in this world is crazy, and I am the only sane person left! Take for instance Michael Jackson. What is the deal with you MJ? Honest to Pete. You're whiter than an albino. Your nose is going to fall off any day now. Your lips are pinker than mine. The painted on eyebrows have got to go. And you wear more eyeliner than me! Goodness Gracious. Oh yeah, and how can we forget that you touch little boys pee-pee's - what an f-in sicko!

And the BTK Killer. I mean, was he seriously a boy scout leader? For real?! What mass murderer does that in his spare time. But what a devoted church-goer. You have killed over a handful of people, and you want to go to church. Does anybody else see something wrong with this picture?

Robert Blakely - INNOCENT?!?!?!? WHAT?!?!?!? What are the jurors smokin', please? Whatever it is that makes them so nieve, I would loveeee some of that shit. He hired someone to kill his wife, then died his hair whiter than Michael Jackson's skin tone - if he's not Wacko Jacko's twin, I'm not sure who is.

Miss Georgia or whatever she is. Killed her ex-boyfriend. Just lovely... I mean can't people just think in their heads about killing their exes, rather than physically doing it. Men are asses, but putting yourself in prison over a man - honey, it is not worth it. And for God's sakes - um, if you were a beauty queen - pick up the next hunk in the country... really honey, no big deal!

O.J. Simpson is out in California, Florida etc. playing golf - while Martha Stewart was sent to prison. Need I say more?

And poor, poor, poor David Letterman. Has a heart attack, and recovers from that, actually gets to have a baby and the painter, yes, I said his house painter, has a plot to kidnap his baby and his nanny for a $5 million ransom. Crazy, Crazy, Crazy-Ass people out there I tell ya.

The even crazier part is that these are the people who are still alive, and healthy (at least physically) and my grandma is in the hospital, the sweetest, most caring person I know, with more complications than any living person I have ever seen.

This world is NUTS!

~Career Woman

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Today's Thoughts

Here are some thoughts I've had thus far today:
~This morning as I began to pump my moisturizer out of it's bottle, the pump's spout busted right off into my hand. Bummer.

~I went into the kitchen to begin my morning ritual of unloading the dishwasher and when I pulled the bottom rack out, it flew right off it's track and onto the floor. Shit.

~I opened my linen closet to put away some towels, the closet door handle pulled loose. What the hell?

~This afternoon I went to pour myself a glass of water and the ice cube tray snapped in half as I tried to get my ice out. Spooky.

I have either woke up this morning with phenomenal cosmic powers or God is trying to tell me something. I'm banking on the phenomenal cosmic powers. I have done nothing that would call for spiritual communication. That I know of.

Career Woman called me today. After we got off the phone, something occurred to me:

~A normal conversation between the two of us, about 7 years ago, would have gone something like this:

Morgan: Hey Skank.
Nikki: What's up Bitch?
Morgan: Not much. Paintin' my nails. You?
Nikki: Eatin' Pizza Joe's
Morgan: Mmmmm
Nikki: Whatcha wearin' to school tomorrow?
Morgan: Probably that outfit that I got when we went to the mall yesterday.

Nikki: Cute. Can I borrow your blue Express shirt?
Morgan: Yep. Come over.
Nikki: K, remind me to get my earrings off of you, they'll match that shirt.
Morgan: Ooh yeah, you'll look hot.
Nikki: I know, I'll be over in a sec.
Morgan: See ya.
Nikki: Later, Skankest.

The conversation we had today went like this:

Nikki: Hello
Morgan: Hey, skank.
Nikki: What's going on, skank.
Morgan: Bored at work (snort) You?
Nikki: Making some lunch for the girls.
Morgan: My throat hurts.
Nikki: Yeah, you sound like shit.
Morgan: Oh, I made a new post today.
Nikki: Ooh, I'll have to check it out.
Morgan: I went back and read your Chuck E. Cheese post and then our letters to our Anonymous Reader, they make me laugh.
Nikki: I know, they're good.
Morgan: Alright, well make a new post, it's been a few days.
Nikki: Ok.
Morgan: Call me later
Nikki: K, bye.

My thought is this: Somehow my care-free, fabulous life has morphed into the above. How? Why? I should be able to be 20-something, married, have children and still be fabulous. Right? There are days that I'm lucky if I get out of my PJs (this should seriously be in Confessions of a Housewife), I'm super lucky if make-up touches my face, and I am most fortunate to shower 2 days in a row. There is no ethical reason for this blasphemy!

Just because I live 600 miles away from ANYONE who might stop over my house unexpected, does not mean I shouldn't fix myself. Just because I live 600 miles away from ANYONE that might call me to go out, on the spare of the moment, does not mean I shouldn't have gotten dressed. Even if SOMEONE did call me, it's not like I could go because all of my babysitters live 600 miles away from me!

So I'm going to make a promise to myself. I am not going to make myself look all hot, only when I go out into public. I will grace Big Daddy and my children with my illuminating beauty, everyday, for no reason. I will get up early and shower, while the kids are still sleeping. I will put on my make-up, in the dark (if need be). I will dress myself in the prettiest of all fashions, as my children eat breakfast. I will even wear jewelry! And when I am done....my daughters will not know who I am. They will wonder who this embellished woman is. They will stare at me in awe. And listen to every word I say. The world will be a better place!

Then they will catch on and realize that it's just Mommy.

I will soon smell like Spaghetti O's, and defeat the whole purpose of my shower. My make-up will be washed off by the splashes they will make in the bathtub. Sophia will pull my earrings out of my holes and break the chain of my necklace. Isabella will surely spill something on my clothes and ruin them. My hair will inevitably end up in a messy bun ontop of my head because I cannot clean my house with it in my face. Big Daddy will never see the great effort I made to make myself look pretty because I will be the smelly blob of poo that he's used to coming home to.

POOOOOOOOOOFFFF! There goes that idea.

Does anyone have any suggestions for me? I'll try anything at least once!

That's as far as my deep, genius-like thoughts went today. But maybe now that I have awoke with phenomenal cosmic powers, I can do something about all of the frumpy housewives in the universe! Maybe.


Random Advice for Thursday

I absolutely hate driving to night class...in Pittsburgh...an hour away. I hate paying for gas because like my chica Erin said, it may just break my bank. I also hate to pay for parking - I thought that Duquesne, a Catholic university, whom likes to parade themselves on loving God, Jesus, and every other holy person, would cut some slack in the damn parking fees. How much have you sucked me dry for now? What? Approximately 100,000 and some. You know what Duquesne, don't plant another stinky, smelly bush or tree this year and then perhaps, your students can afford your outrageous parking. Anyways, I hate a lot of things about going to class. Especially the fact that I have one more year of this hell left. Ugh! But I tell myself that it will all be worth it in the end. A Master's Degree...gotta make some moolah with a master's degree, right? Someone please tell me "right," so I don't drive off of 79S tonight on my way to another 3 hours spent at this hell-hole.

But with all this complaining, there is one itty-bitty thing that I love about going to school. I freakin' JAM OUT to some mad tunes peeps on the radio. Especially on the way home. There is nothing better in this world than the Top 8 at 8. (well...there are some things better...but just go with it people) I swear that one of my friends needs to put my name into Motormouth on VH1, because I would kick ass, no doubt. I, myself, love a variety of music. I like country, hip hop, R&B, pop, and I loveeeeee oldies!

Here is where I tell all my blogger friends my secret. I have a deep, burning desire to be able to sing. But I can NOT sing to save my life. Pumpkinface literally turns the station on me when I start to belt out those lyrics. You would think that because I love to sing, dance, and perform so much, the G-man would have blessed me with some soothing vocal cords. Apparently he did not to the people driving in the car with me. But when I drive to school, I have my freedom and boy do I take advantage of it. I sing sooooo loud, that sometimes my voice cracks, gets dry and I literally choke. That's sad, huh? And I dance. No matter what song is on the radio, I pretend I am that person, group, duo, etc., whatever. But, you know what my ultimate favorite song to sing is.... MUSTANG SALLY.

Friends of ours are in a band. They sing like classic rock, rock, etc. and they always play Mustang Sally for me - only I don't know all the words, but that's okay because....we change them. Mustang Sally is no longer Sally - that mustang is Morgan. Yup, we definately sing those words at their shows and so do they - sometimes they allow me to be a special guest on stage, and I sing the chorus with them. (Note: It is very apparent that I sing like shit. End Note). Big UPS to Dangerous Curves. Other songs on my list of songs to sing along to in my cutest little jeep liberty are as follows:

1. Anything by Rascal Flatts - God Bless the Broken Road is my best, by far.
2. LeAnn Rimes - Nothing bout love makes sense
3. 50 Cent - Candy Shop - this is where you will see my best moves.
4. Frankie Jay - Obsession - I get a little soulfull.
5. Shania Twain - I love that bitch!
6. Kenny Chesney
7. Sugarland - Baby Girl - much love to my theme song
8. Ludacris, etc. - Sugar
9. My Give-a-Damns Busted - that country lady...what the hell is her name? Oh yeah... JoDee Messina
10. Usher - Caught up... "I'm so CAUGHT UP...OOOHH BABY, IM LOSIN' CONTROL"

My advice to you, is that when you have a long drive ahead of you, or even if you have to run to the corner store for milk, pads, gum, whatever... pop in one of these ten tunes, and I will guarantee you a good-ass time!
-Career Woman

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Sick and Tired

I am so sick AND tired of being sick that I'm tired on top of all this sickness!

Sick...sick....sick... that's me! - Sick Morgan, all the damn time. But during all this sick time, I have come up with numerous possibilities and observations as to how I have gotten sick AGAIN. I've narrowed it down to a few possibilities. And they are as follows...

1. The majority of my free time has been spent at Jameson Memorial Hospital visiting gram. Although, she used to be on the rehabilitation unit, it is still necessary that one must travel through 8 gazillion hallways to get there, touching doorknobs, handles, etc... (and side note, I can leave out buttons on an elevator because I gave those up for lent because everytime I get on one, something happens or someone else in the elevator whom works there says "hmmm...this elevator shouldn't be acting like this," and at this point I push aside every sick and dead person to get out of the damn elevator). This is a great possibility. But let's back track.

2. I do spend an hour a day in a school setting. Those gross, sickly children are all infested with 8 gazillion germs on top of the 9 gazillion we as humans already have. There I have to touch doorknobs, pens, papers, etc. of those gross, sickly children and they sit within three inches of my very being. Did that student cough in my face yesterday? I believe she did. Rotten child. But when I leave the school, I tend to go to the mac machine - wait just a darn minute there ... another possibility.

3. At the MAC machine, approximately 80 some people have already sneezed, wiped a boogie, etc... and then withdrew funds from their account (probably to pay the enormous co-pay at a doctor's office because they are so sick... I love ya George W. Bush, but can we do something about this insurance situation?)

4. I take money out of the MAC machine too. I need to go to the doctor, after all, all of these possible scenarios have led me to the indulged, tiring, i'd-like-to-kill-myself-but-im-too-busy-to-do-even-that sickness. So I go to the doctor and use the same damn pen that the 70 yr. old woman has just hacked on while signing herself in. And then I pay my 8 million dollar co-pay with the germ-infiltrated money I received from the MAC machine that the sick teller at the bank probably placed in the machine on her own.

5. Then I come back to work. I insist on eating a million and one times a day, so I go down to the vending machines, that every juror, convict, escapee, fellow co-worker, whom I am sure came down with something from their child or....whatever and push those buttons on the four vending machines (because we all know that I eat from each, yes, I eat out of all four vending machines).

These are all very good possibilities as to why I couldn't stop sniffiling last night in class, why I woke up at least three times last night, with a mouth and throat full of mucus (sorry, I know, ewe), and sneezed a gazillion, million times while getting ready. These are possibilities as to why I have had to take a allergy pill, cold pill, and advil all within four or so hours of themselves. And these are also possibilities as to why I am in a horrible mood and will probably rip off anybody's face who crosses my path today. Beware of the dog. Enter with caution.
~ A Sick Career Woman

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Ladder 49 and Foreign Insurance People

What a title, eh? Well I decided that I had two things to talk about today. The first is probably the best movie ever. Ladder 49. Best. Movie. Ever. Pumpkinface and I rented it yesterday after the hospital. I had to leave work early, because they decided that a stroke just wasn't enough for my grandmother and that "oh yeah, let's operate because we found a bowel obstruction too." So, they had to do emergency surgery - Thank the Lord everything came out okay, and Eddie and I decided to have a mellow night at home in front of the telly. So we went and rented Ladder 49. As I said previously.... Best. Movie. Ever. (Oh and we also bought some tubs of ice cream to snack on while we watched our movies).

A little synopsis is that this movie is based on a true story of a fire department out of Baltimore City (haha I think). Joaquin Phoenix (yowza) plays Jack Morrison, the rookie fireman for Ladder 49. The chief of the fire department people, squad, whatever is played by John Travolta (double yowza). Jack Morrison gets married, has kids, and puts himself in like, a million and one dangerous situations and I wont give away the ending because I am ordering all of you to go rent the movie now. Come on. Go-Rent-The-Movie. (And pick up The Notebook too - mmm lovely).

Now, on to the "bleep bleep bleepin' bleep foreign insurance people." I hate them with a burning, incinerating passion (im going with this firefighter thing). I am having some problems with my insurance company. I switched insurances in January because I changed jobs and got new, "better" insurance. I was covered by my new insurance in January, and had a doctor's appointment in February. I just received a letter from my doctor's office saying that my insurance does not cover me until March. Ummmm...no, I do not think so. So they put my claim into my old insurance. These people are dumb. So I had to call the old insurance and see why it was sent there first.

First off, why do foreign people who work at insurance companies speak so softly. Like little sweet old women, only they are definately chinese, swedish, norwegian, or whatever and they are men. That is right. They are men and should speak loud, and manly. But they did not and they do not. I have never once been able to understand anyone that I speak to from an insurance company when I have an inquiry. However, that is only if I can figure out how to speak to a person rather than a damn automated response. I hate robots! People, people. Please use people to help us. Robots do not understand. Maybe they have just run out of foreign people and that is why they use robots, because they can't find anybody harder to understand than the ones they already have working there.

So after 15 minutes, yes I did say 15 minutes, I finally get through to a person. He speaks in his gentle whisper. I don't want a lullaby people, I want you to tell me what the piss is the problem with my insurance! So, you all guessed it. He can't help. I need to call the school who had insured me. Great, another 15 minutes or so with another automated response. I said "screw that," and I was going to call human resources downstairs at my current place of employment. I like to talk to them anyways because they love my hair and complement my beauty. They think I'm pretty too. :) They are so helpful. God bless human resources. That lovely Helen, gave me the number to call absolutely, wonderful Priscilla. Absolutely, wonderful Priscilla, helped me out just perfectly. My card is all wrong and I am insured. (Thank Jesus), and all I had to do was call my doctor's office back and tell them just to send the claim to my insurance and that I am covered. Lovely. Wonderful. Brilliant.

Bella with some tickets Posted by Hello

Sophia eating the RIGHT pizza Posted by Hello

Sophia with the 1st WRONG pizza Posted by Hello

Bella on ride Posted by Hello

Monday, March 14, 2005

Oh, what you do for your kids!

Chuck E. Cheese's, where a kid can be a kid! Y'all know how it goes! Sing it with me people....Chuck E. Cheese's, where a kid can be a kid! Ok, now that was fun! But, here's the part that not so funny to me: When parents take their children to Chuck E. Cheese they somehow mis-interpret that cute little jingle/slogan thingy into Chuck E. Cheese's, where a parent doesn't have to be a parent! Yeah, not so catchy and it definitely does not call for an encore. However, I believe that this is truly what the majority of American (and many not-so American) parents at Chuck E. Cheese actually think. I am proven right, every time I go to this nightmare of a devil's playground.
~It all started yesterday when a commercial for Chuck E. Cheese came on TV just as Big Daddy and I were trying to decide what to do with the girls for the day. Big Daddy looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and his child within said "I think Sophia is ready for Chuck E. Cheese!"

"Alrighty, that sounds like lots of stressful fun, let's go!"

(actually, my response was much more heartfelt and just as childlike as Big Daddy's, but the above is what I was subconsciously saying)

~So we drove around the parking lot for 15 minutes trying to find an empty parking space, this should have been the first clue that there would be many extra dumb-ass parents in there!

~We get inside and the non-english speaking hostess stamps us with the invisible ink stamp to ensure that none of the non-rule-abiding adults inside would steal our children. Good.

~As we walk inside this is what happened: Big Daddy goes to order our pizza. I wonder around looking for an empty booth, even though I'm paying more attention to the expression on Sophia's face as she sees Chuck E. Cheese for the first time, as I'm trying to hang on to Isabella's hand that is trying it's very best to wiggle away from me, all while being taken out at the knees buy little tricycle motors that have no sense of moving out of someone's way.
Nikki: "Ooh there's an empty one."
visual: (Housewife running as fast as she can while Isabella is flying in the air behind her.
Housewife throws Sophia into the booth before the new mother carrying her infant in a car carrier can get to the booth.)
Nikki:"Huh, got it"
New Mother Carrying Her Infant In A Car Carrier: "Shit!"
(Housewife thinks: "In your face bitch, you shouldn't have a 4 week old baby in this hell anyway. Amateurs, will they ever learn?!")

~After 2 tries, the waitress finally brings us the right pizza. My children are salivating because they have been teased with 2 pizzas before the right one came and the tokens are burning a hole in Isabella's pocket.

As we eat, I notice 4 Eye-Wincing scenarios:

  • There is this cute little ride that a child sits on like a bike. The child pedals the bike and the faster they pedal, the higher up in the air the bike goes. Fun. There is a little girl that cannot be older than 2 crawling onto the ride and situating herself directly under the rising bike that has a little boy on it and the little boy is clearly 20 pounds over-weight. The little boy is peddling his heart out and is perspiring. I am no genius, but this little boy will probably be out of energy very soon. In turn, when he stops peddling the bike will come sliding down the pole. Little girl will be crushed. Not Fun. Little girl has absolutely no parent in sight. I cannot bare to watch her get crushed. I will also not go over remove the little girl because I got yelled at by parent at a Chuck E. Cheese a few years ago for removing her crying child's hand from under a little boys foot in a ball pit. (Mental note to Housewife: Do not touch another person's child at Chuck E. Cheese no matter how life-threatening the situation may be.) So I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. Little girl may still be pinned under the flying bike. Not sure.
  • Over to the left, there is a little girl about 5 years old, she's winning this game like it's her job. She's got tickets flying out of the machine at her. Her face is jubilant. She's even doing a little butt wiggling victory dance. A little boy about 12 (that had no business being at Chuck E. Cheese) comes running by and snatches her tickets right out of the machine. Little girl bends down to claim her treasured prize of tickets that she worked so hard for. They are gone. Little girl's face turns long, she hangs her head and walks away. Housewife sticks her foot out and trips the12 year old boy, as he comes running by again. OOPS.
  • Behind them at the shoe rack outside of the ball pit, sits a little boy under the age of one. This little boy is taste-sampling the bottom of every shoe on the rack and sucking on their shoe laces. Again, no parent in sight. Hurl.
  • To the left of the shoe eating boy is group of 10 year olds playing air hockey. A little boy about the age of 7 walks by holding a cup full of tokens. The little boy trips and falls. His tokens spill everywhere. The group of 10 year olds, stop playing air hockey and bend down to pick up the tokens. How nice. Yes. Until they started putting the tokens into their own pockets, leaving the 7 year old crying on the floor with no tokens. Where are the parents?

SERIOUSLY PEOPLE! Parents in Chuck E. Cheese think "OK, my child has been stamped with invisible ink, no one will take it. My child is free to run around this establishment unsupervised because this is where a kid can be a kid." Then the subliminal message sinks into their brain..."oh, and I do not have to a parent, I do not have to watch my child, I can let it run around like an untamed beast, I can let it steal, be squashed, eat dirt and stalk strange people."

Now we are done eating, it is time to send me my sweet little girls into the hellish playground. Big Daddy helped them play the games while I stood guard of the tickets. I will trip another boy if I see fit.

After a while I noticed that there is a little girl, probably 9 years old, following us. Hmmm. She is standing so close to me I could smell the cinnamon on her breath. We move to another game. Again, right behind me. What is going on? Apparently she is now my Phantom Child. She will not leave me alone. She does not talk to me. Thank God. She just insist on following me and my family everywhere. Standing so close that I could not move without bumping into her. My patience were running very thin. My moves became very sudden and fast so that when I bumped into her, she would stumble. I even elbowed her a few times. She still followed me. We moved away from her about 15 times, she still followed. When I couldn't take it any longer, we went over to The Ticket Muncher to add up our tickets. My Phantom Child was standing so close to us that she was in Sophia's way of watching Isabella feed her tickets to the Muncher. My Phantom Child followed us to the prize counter and watched my children pick out every toy. Why was she doing this? I have no idea. Where were her parents? Not a clue.

So we go to leave. I pull up my children's sleeves to ensure a clear reading of the invisible ink stamps under the black light, so that I will not have any problems with the non-english speaking hostess at the door. That bitch didn't even look at me or the stamps. She opened the gate and waved us through. I stood there. Big Daddy said " Go, Nik." I wanted that bitch to look at our stamps. Why wasn't she looking at our stamps? Why did she even stamp us, if she wasn't gonna check them when we left? Anyone could have taken my children! Look at my stamp, Bitch! Finally, I get shoved through the gate by Big Daddy. He's pushing me all the way to the car. I keep trying to turn around and go back into Chuck E. Cheese to make the non-english speaking hostess bitch look at my stamp! Look at the goddamn stamp! Whatever. I'm pissed.

So we get in the car. I do a thorough inspection of the car to make sure my Phantom Child did not follow us. Because she very well could have, being that the non-english speaking hostess bitch did not look at our STAMPS!

At least I got some really cute pictures of my sweethearts AND I could post more than one since I learned a trick from Erin's blog comments! YEY!

Ok, I just lied to you, I can't post them, something is wrong and I don't feel like figuring it out right now...I'll post pictures later.


Friday, March 11, 2005

What's going on here?!?!?

Blogger will not let me post comments to people I love. This is ruining my day. How will they ever know how I feel about them? How is life suppose to go on like this? Will they think I don't care about them anymore? I'm heartsick! Don't worry my funny little bloggy friends, I'll give you some love as soon as Blogger decides to take the stick out of it's ass and let me post a comment. XOXOXOXOXO

Power Outage

So I was going to begin an early, Friday morning post, but the electricity went out. So my computer shut down on me - I had a little fit, but then that fit turned to excitement. I told myself, "Self, if this stays out long...they may just send us home!" Oh boy I could get so much done. I can actually go to the bank and close and open my account. I could go to lunch with Pumpkinface. I could go up to the hospital with my mom and aunt to see Gram. I could get my nails done, AND tan! This day is lookin' up girlfriends!

The other girls in the office and I begin to plan our days. Who's cleaning their house, and who's going to the grocery store, and who will take the longest nap of their whole, entire life. The attorneys come in... more good news! Is this possible?! Apparently, someone hit a pole on the north hill and power is knocked out basically in the entire city of New Castle. All we are waiting for is the word from the commissioners that they are sending everybody in the courthouse home. Waiting....and waiting...and more waiting.

The detectives come in, more good news! Do you believe it? Hell week may just be over from it's beginning two weeks ago! "Penn Power is saying that they won't get the power back on until around 2:00 p.m." Well, hell. This means that we will get to leave. Surely they won't make us stay here without heat, light, or phones - providing us with no ability to work at all!

Well, we stayed....I got on my cell phone to call my mom and aunt and tell them that I would go with them to hospital and to lunch if we got sent home. Of course we would get sent home, it's cold out and penn power is spreading rumors that it won't be fixed until two. Just as I hang up the celly-yo, make 8 million promises, to do 8 million things today. God decided, "let there be light again." And here I am. Still at work. Blogging.

Confessions of a Housewife

My bed is half made, I have not unloaded the dishwasher yet this morning, and my children are beating each other into oblivion (whom I've asked not to bother me unless someone is bleeding.) And of course instead of attending to my Housewife-ish duties, I am blogging. But that's not what I came here to tell you.

~My true confession is this: This morning at 6:30a.m. as I stumbled to my kitchen to put my oatmeal in the microwave (because I do not have patience for boiling water at 6:30 in the morning) something to my utter horror was in there. It was a little Dora the Explorer bowl filled with spaghetti O's. Oh No. My heart stopped. Why? Possibly because I am the most terrible person in the whole entire world.

~Last night during dinner as Big Daddy and I ate pork roast, mashed potatoes and veggies my children had the usual spaghetti O's and this is only because I refused to give them cereal for dinner (THIS IS ALL THEY WILL EAT PEOPLE!) Isabella was still hungry and asked for more spaghetti O's (I hesitated because this is actually the second dinner she had for the evening and she is notorious for leaving her seconds untouched at the table) but I got up, opened a jar, put them in the microwave for 30 seconds, and sat back down at the table. Obviosly I forgot that I had done this and made myself think that Isabella had her second jar of spaghetti O's.

~Here's the part that makes this absolutely devistating for me: Isabella cried after I cleared the dinner plates from the table last night because she was still hungry. Big Daddy yelled at her saying "You need to learn to eat real food with the rest of us, if you were still hungry you could have had what Mommy and Daddy were eating." Usually I step in, baby the child, and give her whatever she wants. However, I have learned that "parenting differences" are the root of all evil and they will start a fight at the drop of a hat. So I let Big Daddy have the final say and ignored Isabella's cries. Reassuring myself the whole time that she really can't be that hungry because she ate about 5 bowls of cereal for her 1st dinner at 6:00p.m. and (so I thought) 2 bowls of spaghetti O's for her second dinner at 8:oop.m.
~So, this morning when I found that little bowl of spaghetti O's that was NEVER taken out of the microwave and given to my hungry child, I just about cried!

To make up for this I will feed my child everything she wants today. Cereal, spaghetti O's, cookies, pudding, more cookies, candy, popscicles, WHATEVER she wants. When my husband comes home and says "Honey, how did the child get fat?" I'll look him right in the face and say "Why, I don't know dear."

When you see Isabella on an Oprah Special for Obese Children, do not ask any questions. We will simply sue the Spaghetti O's company.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Random Advice for Another Wednesday

Totally good advice for tanners. Okay, so you're having a blah type of day. We all have them kiddies. When your day is just bringing ya down... pick up that phone and call up a local tanning salon. Do it, NOW! There is something about a tanning bed, that even though you come out sweaty, beat red, and disgusting - you feel DAMN good about yourself! Am I right girls? I think I am.

But it is important to start off slow... Begin at 10 minutes if you are a beginner. Those tanning salon owners like to cover their own butts and put you in for like four, but lets face it people, you don't get a speck of color in four minutes. Do 10. Then build up. And for those of you who hate to be hot and sweat such as I, here is a little tip.

A lot of tanning places, have little seperate rooms each equipped with a few things. They have a towel, some cleaner, goggles, laundry basket for dirty, sweaty towel, that little "place holder" that reads "This sunbed has just been sanitized," or something to that effect, and then...da da dah - they have a fan. Here's the trick...flip over that little laundry basket and put that little, them, there fan on top of 'er and VIOLA, cooled off in approximately 45 seconds. Now go tan people, I'm going at 4:00 p.m.!

Damn You Black Cats!

So apparently we have come to the bottom of all this bad luck, my family, friends, and I have been having. Damn you black cats! My precious pumpkinface hit a black cat on his way home from work Saturday...I am not one who typically believes in superstitions, but it looks as though I must start. After my dear pumpkinface decided to pummel over a black cat on the highway, it was apparent that our shitty luck had not only begun, but had taken a turn for the worse.

After the black cat was rumbled over by the black beauty (a.k.a Pumpkinface's car) this weekend, we went straight to bed. I was not a very superstitious person as of Saturday night, more obsessive compulsive if you will, and then came Sunday. After all, Saturday was a fairly nice day. I tanned, cashed a check, addressed and wrote out thank you cards, and went out for a couple drinks. All-in-all, a good day. My gram came home from the hospital that day after surgery, that appeared to go very well, and Pumpkinface and I had a lovely evening at home.

Sunday morning, we wake up, eat some lovely Dunkin' Donuts, watch alittle telly, take a nap, and then eat some rigatoni and sauce. All is well. Then we get a phone call. It's my mom. Something had happened to my gram and we need to get to the hospital immediately. We get dressed, I, in the same clothes as the night before at the bar, because I haven't anything else to toss on, no shower, and Pumpkinface and I head to the hospital. I'm a mess. When I say "mess," I mean MESS. As you all know already, my gram had a stroke on Sunday. Yes, she came home from the hospital absolutely fine on Saturday, and then Sunday, early afternoon, she has a stroke. I got to witness a few of the "stroke episodes" if you will, and they are absolutely devastating. They stablized my gram around 4:00-4:30 p.m. and she was able to talk to us and carry on a conversation. No news on how much damage had been done. But things were looking better.

We arrive home to get showers and change our grease fried clothes, and we get news that Pumpkinface's future brother-in-law's grandma had a heart attack, but was doing okay too. Thank the Lord! The episode with the black cat had never crossed my mind until the following day, Monday.

Monday, I went to work, against my wishes. I got too shaken up around noon or so and left, because what is important is to be with my gram. I left and went to Pumpkinface's house because we had a funeral to go to - (um... is this because of the cat thingy I am beginning to wonder). I started getting sick myself. After the funeral, I went and laid down a bit, to see if my stomach would settle down. Pumpkinface made me some buttered toast, and I began to feel a little better. We gave the hospital another whirl. We went up to the hospital, I was feeling fine! Gram was sleeping, but doing pretty well, so we decided that we would go eat and then come back. Never made it to the restaurant. Nope, got sick again. So we are on our way home to go lay down...again and guess what runs out on the road in front of us....ANOTHER BLACK CAT. Okay. I run into the house, and throw up! Why? Is this the work of the second black cat? Or the first one? Or am I just being crazy?

The next day, yesterday, we get some new news. Gram is not doing so good. Her vision is terrible and she isn't able to walk as of now. We don't know what is permanent damage and what is just temporary because it is too soon to tell. Please keep my grandma, as well as my family, in your thoughts and prayers. And watch out for those black cats...I am now a very superstitious.

Confessions of a Housewife

~I only wish I could provide all of you with tactful and useful advice about beauty and style such as my talented Career Woman. But I'm sorry to say that the only truly good advice I could provide is about my impeccable child rearing skills. And because I'm almost certain that NONE of my current readers have children or plan on having children anytime in the near future, I won't even bother. However with the recent pregnancy epidemic that my dear Rachael has been talking about, some of you may need to heed my advice sometime soon. If any of you decide to reproduce, let me know, I'll gladly begin a segment about raising children. But until then my friends, I will leave you with this: Confessions of a Housewife.
~I'm not promising a weekly post under this genre, but I will post as I see fit. It is not often that someone of such perfection actually has something to confess about (wink, wink).

So for my first (randomly posted) Confessions of a Housewife (drum roll,please)

I am slightly addicted to Blogs. Not just my own blog, that would be OK. I am addicted to other people's blogs. The reason why, is my confession: Reading about other peoples lives is sick guilty pleasure. It's like reading their diary or something. Only not quite as fulfilling because I don't have to sneak to do it. Yikes! The truth is scary. I realized that I had a problem when I waited until everyone was asleep in my house last night and I tip toed to my computer and sat in front of it for hours reading about other peoples lives and actually enjoyed it! The good news is, I wouldn't have kept reading if they weren't so darn funny! That tells me that I'm not really a sick minded person, I'm reading for laughs, not to domineer the lives of others. Uh, I feel better already. This confession thing just may work out for me.

Ooh, IDEA! This could be the confessional post. Let's hear all about YOUR sick blog addictions. That way we'll all feel better! :) Then I'll feel better knowing I'm not the only one. Gosh, I hope I get some comments on this , now. Hmmmm.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

As I Promised

Posted by Hello
Here is Bertha and I before we left for Akron with "The Ruby Sparks" (that's the name of my mom's Red Hat Society Chapter).
Why the cowboy hats and fringe, you ask? We went to see The Honky Tonky Angels at the Carousel Dinner Theatre. We Red (and sometimes pink) Hatters always dress for the occasion.
All I have to say people is: WHAT A GOOD TIME! The production was astounding, the food absolutely delicious and we were treated like royalty. People were sending the waitress over to our table to ask what us girls did for a living! Ha! We said "Have fun, of course!"
If any of you know ANYONE that belongs to a chapter, I strongly suggest that you buy yourself a pink hat and ask to tag a long at least once. You won't regret it!

Banks SUCK!

Not only do we hate Wells Fargo, we hate banks in general today. Okay. See, I am getting married in a year and some days. We plan on joining our accounts. I figured that I would take the big girl step and switch banks ahead of time, therefore it would be easier (you would think) when the time comes to join after the wedding. This is not the case.

Approximately a month ago, (thats right I said a month ago because who would've known it takes this long to say "Give me my money please" and "Thank You," then say "Please put my money away" and "Thank You"). So I called my bank. A month ago. In doing so, I ask the polite man who works at my bank what closing my account entails. "Oh mam, it's quite simple, just come in, make sure all checks have been cashed and we will write you a check for the amount that is in your account and you can deposit it elsewhere." Hmmm... Simple! Okay. So I called the toll free number, not everything went through yet. Shit. Then I decided to give up for a little while because I received a LOT of bills in the mail that week. I figured that I would write them out ahead of time for once and get this hoopla outta the way. Yeah right.

Apparently throughout the weeks, I must have mistaken the purpose of a debit card. I was aware that they "automatically" deducted the money from your account. Because it is not credit. And they are not cashing a check. Whatever. I was wrong again. This past Friday, I went tanning. I was informed that my package was used up so I bought another. I never carry cash since the invention of this "deducts at the pace of snuffaluffagus from sesame street" debit card. That is it's new name. Snuffaluffagus. I hate him. He sucks and he's slow. Therefore, I used my snuffaluffagus card to pay for my tanning package. $30.00. Friday afternoon.

On Saturday, Pumpkinface and I had checks to cash from the party, so I went to my bank, I wish that wonderful man was still working, but instead I walk up to the ass-ugly bitch at the counter. I say to the ass-ugly bitch behind the counter that I would like to close my account. She gets pissy. The ass-ugly bitch behind the counter is actually mad at me because I am trying to close my account. Throughout the process, thank the Lord that I keep a checkbook because this girl would have had no idea that she let me close my account when I still had checks out there and deductions coming. Do you know what she said to me? The ass-ugly bitch behind the counter had the nerve to ask me "Do you hate us? Is that why you are closing your account?" Well if it was any of her business, "No, I am getting married and we are going to another bank." (And somebody please tell me what bank employee ask if we "hate" them).

So I begin instructing the asshole behind the counter how to close an account. Right as she is getting ready to close it, I instructed her ugly-ass to make sure that the last $30.00 came out since I did it yesterday. Surely it would be out by now you would think! Nope, not out. What is the purpose people. So she said, "Try back next week, it should be out by then."

Okay so what if my ass had a check to write out for all I had in my account. And I wrote it with "insufficient funds" (hehe banker terms) and got myself a penalty charge. It has happened before. She's an asshole. So today, I call to find out the hours of my bank to go close my account. 4:30 p.m. Perfect. I get off at 4:00. I call the bank I am switching to. 4:00 p.m. Shit. I get off work at 4:00p.m. people. So now I have to wait another damn week to close it. Then of course, I am sure that at least 4 new bills with come for me that I have to send and we are back at square one. I hate banks....and Wells Fargo

-Career Woman

Monday, March 07, 2005

I Hate Wells Fargo

Allow me to blow a little steam, if you will.
~I'd like to start out by saying I have been punctually paying on my student loan for the last 4 years. That's right, every month on the 5th to be exact (according to my faithful checkbook) for the last 4 frickin' years I have been giving $50 to Wells Fargo Educational Services. And may I add that only $9 of that goes towards the principal (to pay SRU for a full year of higher education, that I only decided to stay for half of.) Last month however, Wells Fargo Educational Services failed to send me a bill. You know the friendly little envelope we get in the mail that some like to call the "coupon" that states when your payment's due and how much it is blah blah blah. Yeah, that. Never. Sent . To. Me. I need this bill. I need that little reminder every month that yet another person wants money from me. I do not willingly remember that 65% of Big Daddy's pay goes to people that live to suck every ounce joy from my vessels.
~As you all know, I have spent the last month in Pennsylvania. I left Massachusetts on February 6th. At this point and time I normally would have received my Wells Fargo Educational Services bill. Because, get this, I write it out on the 5th of every month. Also at this point and time, I was not really thinking about my Wells Fargo educational Services bill or that it might be due because...uh huh....I didn't get it in the mail. So there I sit in Pennsylvania having the grandest of all times on February 23rd...When my Grandmother, whom co-signed my student loan, called me at my parent's house. She called to inform me that she received a letter in the mail stating that my Wells Fargo Educational Services payment is past due. She also apologizes that she had been disregarding letters from Wells Fargo thinking it was junk mail, for the last few weeks and that she may have been able to inform me sooner if she hadn't thrown away the mail from them. So I take a little look-see at my check book. It was then that I discovered that, Yes, I have indeed been paying them on the 5th of every month and, No, I didn't see a payment for the month of February. I'm the type that likes to Right the Wrongs as soon as possible, so I jump on the phone to Wells Fargo Educational Services verified that my account was past due, got the exact amount due and the address to send it to and put in the mail the very next day. Good. Taken care of. No worries. Get on with my life. SO I THOUGHT!
~Two days later I get another phone call from my Grandmother, this time she seemed a little disturbed. She received another letter form Wells Fargo saying that I have not paid my bill. I assured her that it has been sent on it's way, not to worry, they surely sent it before I spoke with them. She agreed and all was well again.
~That Monday, on the 28th, my Grandmother got another letter, and of course I got another phone call from her. This time, Grandma seemed a little more firm with her words and not as sweet as usual. They sent her another bill. This time it wasn't in letter form. It was an actual "coupon" billing statement asking for March's payment and on the invoice it shows $49.99 due for March and $49.99 past due for February for a total of $99.98. I went to her house and got the letter she received on the 23rd and the billing statement that received that day. When I returned, I sat down and wrote out March's payment although it was not due until the 13th and I ignored the February charge on the statement because I had already mailed it out, several days ago. Hmmm, this is weird...why did they send the actual billing "coupon" to my Grandmother...I wonder if they sent one to me in Massachusetts. So I called my trusty neighbor in Mass and asked her to check my mail and see if I received anything from Wells Fargo. NOPE. Just as I suspected, cause come to think of it I didn't received anything for February, CAUSE I WOULD'VE PAID IT. The February billing statement must have been sent to my Grandmother for some reason and that was probably one of the first pieces of mail she got from Wells Fargo that she threw out assuming it was junk mail. Cause after all I had been paying on this loan punctually for the last 4 years. Who would have thought it had something to do with my loan?
~This is were I begin to get rather upset:
I called Wells Fargo and spoke with an Ill-advised Degenerate named Dave. Dave tells me the second I read off my account number that I had a delinquent account. "Yes, Dave. Thank you for answering my question before I even asked it. I was calling to see if you received my check yet for February's payment. Obviously not."
Dave: Did you mail in your payment?
Nikki: Of course, Dave, normally I send them via ESP telepathic communication waves, but I hear Wells Fargo isn't receptive to New Ages forces yet.
Dave: (dead silence)
Nikki: Ok, Dave. Answer me this, Why are you unexpectedly sending my Grandmother the billing statements all of the sudden? How do you expect me to pay the bill, when I'm not getting the bill?
Dave: It looks like we're sending them to the address in MASS, would this be correct?
Nikki: Yes, Dave, it would be correct if that was the address you were actually sending them to. You see, they are being sent to my Grandmother whom lives 4 states away.
Dave: Well that's not what my computer says
Nikki: Well, Dave, although that was a very intelligent answer... I'm holding in my hand a billing statement for March it is addressed to My Grandmother at her Pennsylvania Address. And I, on the other hand, did not receive a billing statement for March at my Mass Address.
Dave: That's not possible
Nikki: Oh, Dave, It's very possible.
Dave: I don't know why that happened.
Nikki: Well, Dave, that's too bad, I was really hoping you would know.
Dave: I don't know.
Nikki: Dave, could you send a memo to your billing department to see if there has been a mix up.
Dave: I don't know.
Nikki: Alright then Dave, it was nice talking to you, maybe you'll have a better day tomorrow. (hung- up)

~And there you have the story of the Ill-advised Degenerate named Dave
I completely refused to go on with him. I called my Grandmother apologized for all the confusion and promised her that I would get this all straight so that she is not bothered by it anymore.

On Wednesday March 2nd I returned from Lunch with my mother only to hear a very distraught message from my Grandmother on the answering machine. "Nikki, this is Grandma, we really need to talk, please call me as soon as you get this."
Oh Great! I didn't even bother to call, I jumped in the car and went straight to her house. When I got there she was sitting at her kitchen table with another letter from Wells Fargo, this time it was addressred to my Grandfather. She went on and on about how if I can't pay for the loan, it's ok, she'll pay it off, I just need to tell her, she doesn't want bad credit over this blah blah blah. "Gram, I already paid it! I'm paid ahead, in fact! I even sent in March's payment that's not even due yet! Please Gram, we don't need you to pay our bills, we are fine! There is just some kind of mix up!"
So Gram finally agrees that Well Fargo has no idea what they're doing and she is angry with them now. She's calling Wells Fargo. Nothing warms your heart more than hearing your Grandma tell the Ill-advised Degenerate named Dave "shove this payment letter up your ass because it's already paid and you're just trying to get a double payment out of us!"

Alright, well this will surely blow over at some point. I know I paid. They'll get it eventually. Enough is enough.

Now I'm back in Massachusetts. Gram calls me today. Yep. You guessed it. Another letter.

I am now antagonized by this ludicrous scandal! I called Wells Fargo. And you'll never believe it! The Ill-advised Degenerate named Dave answers the phone. I demanded to speak to a supervisor!

Ill-advised Degenerate Dave puts me through to Asinine Imbecile Jim who is pleasantly easier to speak to but still irritatingly stupid none the less.

Jim: Can I help you, Nicole?
Nikki: Yes, Jim...(I explain the same boring scenario that I have been explaining for the last 1600 paragraphs)
Jim: It typically takes 3-5 business days to receive a payment in the mail you know.
Nikki: Yes, Jim, thank you. I've done my math, you should have received my payment.
Jim: Actually Nicole, I see here that you told (Ill-advised Degenerate) Dave that you mailed out February's payment on 24th. It has not been 3-5 business days.
Nikki: Actually, (Asinine Imbecile) Jim, it has been 10 mailing days. You clearly should have received it. I mailed out 8 other bills the same day. All of those bills have been received and according to my bank they have been cashed on March 1st. I don't understand why you have not received my payment.
Jim: According to my computer, it has not been received.
Nikki: OK, (Asinine Imbecile) Jim, you and (Ill-advised Degenerate)Dave, obviously are having some kind of miscommunication with your "computers". They are lying to you.
Jim: (dead silence)
Nikki: Ok, Jim, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt here. Perhaps this is something I need to take up US Postal Service. I'll give it until the end of this week. If you have not received my check, I will cancel it and re-issue you a new one. Now the other problem I have, is that you are sending the billing statement with the little "coupon" to my grandmother. Not me. This is causing a problem with you getting your bill on time.
Jim: No we're not.
Nikki: Yes you are.
Jim: No we're not.
Nikki: Yes you are.
Jim: My computer says that we are sending it to the Mass Address.
Nikki: I've already told you that you're computers are lying to you!
Jim: You'll need to speak with billing.
Nikki: OK, fine. Connect me through to billing.
Jim: I can't do that.
Nikki: Why not.
Jim: Our customers cannot speak directly to our billing department.
Nikki: Jim, I'm biting my tongue right now, only to avoid using explicit language in front of my children....HOW AM I SUPPOSE TO SPEAK WITH BILLING IF CUSTOMERS CANNOT SPEAK DIRECTLY WITH BILLING?
Jim: I don't know.
Nikki: (dead silence, I'm starting to hope this is a joke)
Jim: (still nothing)
Nikki: Ok, Jim, I'm a little irritated. I'm going to hang up now. I'll call every day this week to see if my check arrived. Ok. Bye.

~Now I have wasted the entire time slot for Days Of Our Lives on these obtuse flakes. I will never know what Jennifer did when she woke up and saw Jack holding her in his arms. Damn!

If any of you dear people actually took the time to read all of this...I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If any of you know what Jennifer did when she woke up and saw Jack holding her in his arms...I'll love you even more. Maybe someone out there can relate. I'll keep y'all updated. Wish me luck!


So I Thought "Hell Week" Would Be Over

Well, she made it! YES! She is now a Varsity Cheerleader. More updates and detail will come later about the night's events but I have some sad news...

My grandma had a stroke yesterday and my mind is obviously elsewhere. I will leave the blogging up to Housewife and will hopefully try to toss something out within the next few days. I appreciate all of your support. Please pray for our family!

Lots of Love,
Career Woman

Home Sweet Home

~After an emotional departure from New Castle on Saturday morning, I set out for that dreaded 11 hour trip back to Massachusetts. We didn't hit the road until 9:30a.m. This is later than usual but Big Daddy didn't get into New Castle from Virginia until 11:30p.m. Friday night.

~It was a beautiful day for traveling. The sun was shining and the roads were clear. We were all ready to get back to Littleton...back to our organized, peaceful and lonely lives.

Here are some highlights of our trip:

  • We spotted 54 deer along the way.
  • 6 of which were road kill
  • We spotted 14 hawks
  • 2 of which were eating the roadkilled deer
  • I thought a saw a moose in New York, only to have Big Daddy laugh the whole way to Connecticut because it was one of those wooden cut-outs.
  • We both had our eyes peeled all the way along I-84 because we actually thought we would see the same black bear in the same exact spot that we had seen a month ago on our way into New Castle. We are so optimistic like that!
  • We thanked God about 12 times for the invention of DVD Players for the car. We made it through the whole state of Pennsylvania without hearing a peep from the girls!
  • Big Daddy insisted that he could smell toast for about 3 hours straight.
  • Neither of the girls threw-up this time. Life just keeps getting better!
  • At a rest stop in New York, Isabella declared at the stop of her lungs that woman's shoes in the stall next to us looked like "boy's shoes, and they were ugly." We stood in the stall until I was sure that the lady with the ugly boy-like shoes was completely off the premises.
  • We stopped to eat at Cracker Barrel once we got into Massachusetts. Yey! Cracker Barrel is my second favorite place to eat!
  • We quickly realized we were in fact back in New England when we were dodging snow bullets off the "cahs" in front of us on 495.

~After we trucked our luggage through 18 inches of snow to get into the house...I threw myself on the ground (this really is quite normal behavior for me) and thanked God one last time for our safe arrival home. He was pleasantly surprised I was not talking about the DVD player again.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Random Advice for Friday

Okay, did you ever suffer through one of those "open mouth, insert foot" moments, where you just say the worst thing at the absolute worst time? I tend to do that often, but last night was one of those moments that was the ultimate screw up. Truly, I took the cake on ass-things to say to one of your best friends, whom just so happens to be my maid of honor.

I was driving home from school last night. My maid of honor recently moved to Georgia for an awesome promotion and I miss her a lot. We used to live together until she moved at the end of January, and now she is so busy and I am so busy that we barely have time to talk. So I decided to give her a ringy-ding on the hour commute home. I called. She didn't answer. (This is where I received the "biggest asshole of the year" award). I left her a message saying, "I was just calling to see if you were alive since I haven't talked to you in like 8 years, and if you are alive, maybe, just maybe, you could call me back and let me know if you still wanted to be my maid of honor." Not so bad, right? Afterall, I was just joking, and she would know that when she heard it, it would just make her call back faster. Now, here comes the part where I wanted to engulf my entire knee-high boot in my mouth and down my throat to paralyze my voicebox, because I blame my voicebox for me makign me such an asshole.

My celly rings soon after and it's my maid of honor, K.E. I answer, and she says...get this..."Sorry I haven't called you, I'm in the hospital." WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?! World's biggest asshole, right here kids, that's me. She has severe mono. Not just mono, SEVERE mono. And there is something wrong with her liver. Right, so what is wrong with it? They don't know. Isn't that lovely? 8 million dollars a year to tell you "there is something wrong with your liver, but I'm not sure what." Nice. So I wanted to drive my car off the road because I felt so bad. Luckily she is one of the best, most wonderful people I know and she laughed it off, but if I ever wanted to put my foot in my mouth before - this was it. Therefore, my advice...

My advice to you is to shut your mouth and don't assume. We all know what happens when we assume, right? Be good people. And pray for my K.E., she's sicky! :(

Hell Week - Day 5

Dum. Dum. Dum. Here it is, D-Day...Tryouts! Alex has to tryout today after school. It will probably be a late night because there are a lot of girls and another squad trying out, and they have to pick captains - yowza - I'm already tired. But, I am happy to say she is doing very well. She is tired and has developed a slight cold, as have I, but she is ready to go.

I came home last night from class around 8:30 and we started right up. But I was not a drill sergeant last night, I am sad to say. I was more calm because she was doing well and quite frankly, I, personally, was just too tired to yell. So tonight we will see. Wish us all luck and if I do not blog at some point this weekend or monday morning, check the local t.v. stations, because I may have killed somebody. But, I do not think that will be the case. That little clone of mine, she is damn good and has worked so hard.

Tonight's events will consist of me getting off work, going tanning, out to eat for our typical "last supper" before tryouts (we refer to it as "comfort food") and then wait out the school for her to come out of that gym. Here's what I have learned throughout my years and hers...if she comes out first, we're in bad shape. Typically, the girls who do not make it, are let go, so that there can be a quick, first meeting with the new squad. My mom and I close our eyes when those girls start to exit the gym. The conversation goes something like this...

Mom: Morgan, please look, I can't look. Do you see her? oh God, please tell me you don't see her. Is that her? No. It isn't her. Please don't come out Alex. I will kill somebody if she doesn't make it. Ah, look, "so-and-so" didn't make it. I feel so bad. Oh well. She sucked anyways.

Morgan: Mom, I'm not looking. I can't look. If she comes out first, I will go after somebody in that school. Ah, "so-and-so" didn't make it. I feel bad. I will break Alex's legs if she messed up. Okay. She didn't come out.

Mom: How long should we wait until she should come out? Should she come out soon if she made it? Probably, huh? Do you think? I think. Do you think? Okay, there she is. Is she crying. YES. Are those happy tears? I can't stand it. Morgan, go ask her.

Morgan: Okay. Okay. I'm getting out. To Alex: Did you make it? SHE MADE IT! (jump up and down, hug, squeeze, then jump back in Yukon so we don't upset other little girls because we are obnoxious).

So that is somewhat of how it should look this evening. Only I better be able to jump up and down, hug, squeeze, and then jump back in the Yukon to not upset any of the girls who did not make it.

I'm stressed already. Body is shaking. I might be admitted to the hospital tonight. Please be with us!

Thursday, March 03, 2005

An Open Letter to Anybody Who's Day is Sucking Like Mine

FYI: I am in a horrible mood today. Nothing in particular happened, I am just pissy. Im tired though, and hungry, and I hate work, and I don't want to go do my practicum, and I don't feel like going to school tonight, and I do not want to come home and work on more cheerleading, and I am dreading, absolutely dreading tomorrow. The thought of my little sister's heart being broken because she did not make it for varisty cheerleading is nauseating. I can see why people commit capital murder. Honestly. No lie.

The only thing that is making me happy right now is blogging. Pumpkinface is working, so that sucks. My whole family is on edge, so that sucks. My gram is in the hospital, so that sucks. And all I want to do is curl up in my bed, under my covers and sleep until tomorrow. (Actually tomorrow night because I just want this tryouts bullshit to be over with), but I can't because I am stuck here at work for 3.5 more hours, doing my practicum for an hour, and driving to school for an hour, to sit through an hour and half of supervision, and this all sucks. So, instead of writing a memo to my boss asking if I could take a half a day off, I am blogging. Just hoping this would make my day go quicker and better. (It would really be nice if you stragglers would just POST SOMETHING out there because that would make mama very happy, but whatever).

Can anybody out there sympathize with me? I'd love another blizzard right about now. Cancel class. Cancel practicum. Life isn't that kind to me. Of course it snowed the shit out of itself (?) yesterday when my class was already cancelled because my professor had an early flight. Just a little quick blizzard please around 3:30 or so, that'd be lovely. It probably won't though, b/c that is just how this day of mine is going.

Do you know how mind-numbing it is here to sit here at work with nothing to do because you've done it already? Oh sure I could be an over-achiever in my work place such as I am in my schooling - but I do not plan on staying here forever, therefore, I will not bust my ass for pennies today and work ahead. No, but thank you. It would also be nice if someone else would answer the phone because I am sick and tired of listening to people mis-pronounce my boss's name, talk in a foreign language, or say "I have a couple questions and I'm not sure if you're the person I talk to about this." NO, I am not the person you talk to about this, because I do not care about your problems. Don't commit a felony and then you won't have to call this office with questions that you continue to ask a person who states "Do you have an attorney? Well, call them dum rum." Okay? Sheesh. And why don't people work during the day? Oh that's right, every degenerate in New Castle calls this office because either their degenerate selves, or their degenerate children are in jail because they're "innocent." My ass their innocent. And if they're innocent, I'm having a good day. HA!