How Crazy Is That?

This is how ridiculously outrageous our society's sense of beauty has impacted practically logical people: After years of battling with weight issues, at one time getting up to a whopping size 22, I am sitting here in my size 12 jeans thinking to myself, yeesh, I feel fat. 

How Crazy Is That?

I am in the same size Marilyn Monroe wore. I am voluptuous, sexy, proportioned, and even better than all of those things, I'm fit, healthy, and hearty. 

So why am I sitting here bemoaning the "spare tire" I see sitting above my waistband? Stupid magazines and TV shows. Stupid Barbie Dolls and teen idols. The worst part is, I've never had body issues. I've always been comfortable in the skin I'm in. And yet...here I am, feeling all bloated, and guilt-ridden for eating an entire bag of Cheddar Jalapenos Cheetos. 

So, I will drink this entire glass of wine, finish my Cheetos, and go do a handful of crunches. Hopefully that will assuage my guilty conscience. 

A Few of My Favorite Rants

I'm tired of Comcast boasting record breaking speeds, yet my streaming video gets disrupted a bazillion times.

I'm tired of my kid telling me he didn't mess anything up, yet after he stayed at my townhouse for a sum total of 14 hours my wireless router no longer recognizes my Internet connection.

I'm tired of my laptop screen going black for no reason.

I'm tired of people who feel the need to espouse useless information that isn't even accurate, when nobody asked them in the first place.

I'm tired of everyone having an opinion on everything! Sometimes people say stuff just because they want to get it off their chest. Or maybe they are hoping to find a sympathetic ear. They sure as hell didn't offer up their gripe so you can consistently tell them why they are an ASSHOLE!

So, three glasses of wine have apparently had no effect on my temperament tonight and I have to be up early in the morning.

Goodnight cruel world. You get this one. Let's see who emerges victorious tomorrow!

Happy Anniversary

So, I called Miss Sally this morning and when she answered the phone I chimed "Happy Anniversary!"

"Who's Anniversary is it?" she replied.

"Um," I paused, waiting for her to catch on. "It's June 10th, Grama."

"June 10th," she mused. "Who's Anniversary is June 10th?"

"Um, Grama, it's June 10th, Happy Anniversary." I deadpanned, hoping it would dawn on her so I wouldn't have to say it.

Silence on the other end of the line. "Um, Grama?"

"Oh, Shit!" as the realization struck her. "I'll be damned!" she exclaimed. "You know, I remembered Selena's birthday yesterday and called her to tell her Happy Birthday. I even looked at the calendar and thought to myself, 'What's on June 10th?' But for the love of God, I completely forgot my own anniversary! Well, isn't that something?"

*********************

I guess that's a testament to the adage, "Life goes on" It's been 5 1/2 years since my Papa passed. They would have been married 15 years today. Of course, they had been together nearly 35 years before that. Still, it made me a little sad to think I was the only one that woke up this morning and noted the passing of this significant date.

I can remember the day he proposed to her. I had just acquired a new vehicle that day, a Le Baron that Papa had bought from a friend after it had been in a rear end collision. He and a few of the guys had worked pretty hard on it and got it in pretty good working shape. That day I was taking her out for her maiden cruise when some friends of the family suggested we all take a ride to a local eatery, The Green Lantern, for their renowned pizza.

So, into the Le Baron we crammed. How we all fit, I'll never know. We had pizza and beer and really enjoyed the lovely spring evening and the good company. At some point someone suggested we go to Chi-Chi's cantina for some Margaritas. Back into the Le Baron we went and headed over. We were having a great time, enjoying the music and the sweet tanginess of the tequila and lime saltiness. As was typical, Papa was soaking up the attention with his beer-boozy boisterousness. Atypically, my Grama was actually having a pretty good time, too.

There was a young couple at a near-by table. At some point in the evening we realized that he had proposed to her and she had said yes. Not to be outdone, my Papa, with much pomp and circumstance, loudly proclaimed his undying love for my Grama, and proposed she finally allow him to "make an honest woman of her". Surprisingly, she said yes. Everyone cheered as we ladies quickly sprang into party-planning mode and put the foundation of the wedding plans together. They were married around 6 weeks later, surrounded by friends and family, in my aunt's and uncle's backyard on the afternoon of June 10, 1995.

Happy Anniversary Grama and Papa - and we miss you Papa! Kisses to heaven!

You think you have stress???

Okay, so I thought I was making some marked improvements in handling my current situation (ie, losing my job and possibly my house and nearly my mind!)

I've been diligently forcing myself to go to the gym on my regular gym days, even if I don't feel like it. It's always nice to visit with the group of "regulars" I associate with when I'm there and also I like to take in the Arizona Dry Heat room for a little soothing heat and meditation even if I don't "work out".

I've been TRYING (mostly unsuccessfully) to stick to my eating plan. I've been hitting about 70% - but I just can't seem to keep the comfort foods off my plate!

I've been going out for drinks with the girls to keep social (and sometimes to vent, thank you girls!)

I've been trying to avoid situations that will just make me angrier/sadder/more frustrated.

I've been avoiding the news, though some of it slips through. (don't get me started about the Sect of Treasure appointment or the $871 billion dollar "stimulus" package.)

It's funny how stress can rear it's ugly (and sometimes humorous) head.

So, I disembark my vehicle upon returning from the gym the other day. I grab my bags out of the back seat, and with keys in hand, slide up the icy walk to the porch. As I approach the porch, I slide my key fob between my thumb and index finger "Hmmmm", I think to myself. "I wonder why it's not clicking?" I try this several more times, getting really perturbed when it suddenly dawns on me, "The car unlock button doesn't unlock the front door to the house!"

I quickly glance around to make sure no one witnessed my utterly STUPID act. UGH!

Once inside the house, I quickly rid myself of my bags, coat, shoes, etc and head straight for the "pharmacy". I opened a bottle of *Ghetto Neegro and dispensed 1 healthy dose of the stuff that makes it all better! Thank you God for fermented grapes!

So, at break time, I make a run for the little girls room. After taking care of business, I washed my hands and dried them with paper towel. I turned and walked over to the can to throw away my used towel. Once in front of the can, I stuck out my right leg and tapped the tiles on the floor.

Nothing happened.

I tried again.

Nothing happened.

I tried a third time, and realized mid-tap that I was trying to open the lid to my can at home, which has a foot pedal, and this one didn't!

Gah!

So, I'm going home after I'm done stealing these interwebz and dosing myself amply!

Ahhhhh, vino, the sweet nectar of avoidance and denial!

*Ghetto Neegro is my besties kids mispronunciation of our recently discovered, wonderfully tasting cheap, grocery store wine, Gato Negro, sold at a Meijer near you! Usually on sale 3/$10!