So today is an epic suckfest, you guys. I wouldn’t ordinarily tell you about it but someone on facebook requested a blog post about my Monday, and so here it goes.

Homeslice is acting kind of tired and quiet and of course her lymph nodes are popped back out again and so of course I’m insane over that. She didn’t even cry when I left her with The Other Kristin (a friend who babysits her on Mondays so I can go to work early, heretofore unbeknownst to you, but now beknownst) this morning. That’s unusual, you guys. Usually she cries “mama! maaaammmaaa!” just for that extra layer of mommy guilt as I’m leaving.

She’s got a nervous mother and will probably wind up in a doctor’s office soon. I wouldn’t worry too much, but you know.

It’s kind of my thing.

So there’s that, and I finally broke down and went to the doctor for a cough I’ve had for two weeks–lung chewies and everything.  Turns out it’s The Bronchitis again, and I had to do a breathing treatment and that was really fun. At least this time, Homeslice was at Kristin’s house and I didn’t have to do the breathing treatment smoke machine thing while bouncing her on my hip and keeping her out of the cabinets. That would have been a layer of awesome I don’t think I’m ready for.

And now I’m on antibiotics, so that’s that.

Oh, and on my way in between leaving Homeslice and the Urgent Care, my cell phone went down, so I had to drive to work to tell them I’d be late instead of just calling. That was a pain in the ass. I grabbed the first person I saw and told them I would be in later. Luckily, she was an administratorial type so I guess that was like a total SCORE!

Then later today, I’ll go to the wookie doctor to talk about my lady business problems and have a very special, extra thorough lady exam to make sure that “shadow” the good doctor saw on one of my ultrasound pictures really is just a shadow. He’s probably going to reach all the way up to my throat. I wouldn’t be surprised if I somehow wind up married to my wookie doctor by the end of the day.

I’m still a little freaked out about my lady business. My mother always had lady problems and she suffered a lot and went through some scary stuff throughout my childhood. I just hope I don’t have her genetics. I hope I got my dad’s uterus instead of my mom’s.

Fingers crossed.

And all of this on a work day and I have to make up the time I missed at work while I was playing around at the doctor’s office(s). That’s what I’m doing now. I’m getting in a couple of hours at work in between doctor appointments.

I’m just looking forward to surviving the day at this point.

So that, my friends, is my Monday.

YOU?

What kind of suckfest you got goin’ on? Or, are you a lucky asshole who is having a pretty decent day?

So we’re going to start with the thing that’s bothering me the most and work our way down to the mildly irritating and/or totally stupid.

First up we have Homeslice’s lymph nodes in her little groin area.  The one that was swollen over a month ago is still swollen and now there’s another one right next to it that keeps getting bigger although it’s still smaller than the other one.  And then sometimes they seem to be almost gone, and then sometimes they swell back up again.  I’m hysterical. I think I’m going to bring her back to the doctor because my anxiety disorder is pretty much demanding a blood test at this point even though she’s acting perfectly fine and healthy and has no fever and the swellings don’t hurt her at all and the original one hasn’t gotten any bigger than it was since it first appeared.  But then I think maybe I won’t have her tested because  I’m really scared of the blood test BECAUSE WHAT IF SHE’S REALLY SICK?

I need to know but I’m really afraid to find out.

And I’m giving up on the dog adoption situation.    I had an appointment with a guy last night and he was supposed to bring 2 dogs for us to meet, but then it was just one dog and then he changed the time and THEN HE DIDN’T SHOW UP OR BOTHER TO CALL TO TELL ME HE WASN’T COMING OR ANSWER HIS PHONE.

This is a totally different organization than the other one that blew me off like this FIVE TIMES.  They still haven’t returned my call after blowing me off the fifth time.  It’s been two weeks.

I guess doing this to people and not respecting their time and the fact that adopting a pet is an EMOTIONAL thing and telling someone they will get to meet a potential new family member and then not even having enough respect for them to tell them you need to re-schedule and instead just letting them clear an entire day or a whole weekend and then completely blowing them off like they don’t matter is the way to run a dog rescue.

They’re always whining about how hard it is to be volunteers and that they have lives, you know, and that people need to be patient and blah, blah, blah, WHAT ABOUT ME?  AM I NOT A PERSON TOO?  I also have a life and I’m trying to do the right thing by adopting a homeless animal, but I’m getting treated like shit by these people.

I don’t understand.

I’ve learned a lot about people through this experience and it’s not good news, you guys.  It’s not good news at all.

So, I’m giving up because I can’t deal with the disappointment and heartbreak anymore.

And moving back to Saturday night having gone to bed late after our Zombie Prom, I woke up at 3 in the morning feeling sticky and wet to discover that Alice had thrown up in our bed, under the blankets, and that I had been sleeping in it.  At first I only noticed that I had slid my foot into something, so I checked it out and it was a HUGE pile of super-chunky something.  I didn’t know what the hell it was, so I got out of bed to take a look and determined that it was  some sort of really putrid contents from something (ass? stomach?) and so I limped into the bathroom to wash my foot off and re-group a little bit.

Mister got up to scrape what he determined to be vomit off the bed when I noticed that my back felt cold and wet, too.  I had barf chunks stuck all over my shirt and I had left a trail of them behind me on the way to the bathroom.  I had to take a complete shower and rinse the chunks out of my pajamas while Mister stripped the bed.

It took two trips to get all our bedding down to the basement washing machine, Alice following me the whole way and throwing up more little piles of goodness as we went.

It was…very special.

I never got back to sleep after that, so  I basically got about 3 hours in before all the specialness was discovered.

That was the second night of sleep deprivation because on Friday night, we went to my friend Gina’s annual Halloween party and when we got home, Homeslice was wide awake and hanging out with the babysitter.  She never went back to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time.

That was also a Very Special Evening.

We won best couple’s costume at Gina’s party though, so that was something good riding on the shitwagon that was our weekend.

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(huge version here)

So I’ve been doing Brazil Butt Lift:

Because YES!  I WANT TO LIFT MY BUTT!

And I dare say that Leandro Carvalho has way more feminine energy than my Jillian Michaels.

I mean, he even looks more like a girl than she does:

Sure, she has longer hair and more stubble than Leandro, but do a little Jillianscaping and you’ve got a dude.

Look, they put her in a dress once:

She looked really pretty, but then she was like, “OH MY GOD IT BURNS!! GET IT OFF ME!!! GET ME MY TEE SHIRT!!! IMMEDIATELY!!!”

“Ahhh…that’s so much better.  I feel like myself again.”

Have you tried her yoga DVD by the way?

Every time I play it, it rains. That’s how I know that Jillian Michaels doing yoga makes God cry.

Actually, that’s not true. It makes him want to wear a lady’s wig and eat birthday cake.

I kid, I kid. I love my Jillian but yoga is not her forte and neither is being feminine and dancy and sometimes, I just want to be feminine and dancy, and not all butch and diesel.

That’s why I’m really into this Leandro fellow. Not only is the Brazil Butt Lift really fun to do, (particularly the Cardio Axe, which is pronounced Cardio Ash-ay, btw) but it makes me laugh every time he does his “samba tornado” because he’s such a girl. A big, Brazilian girl with stubble and pit hair and a wicked firm ass. And he’s all like “give it to me, Mary!” and “Have fun…show your booty…your bum bum! Don’t be afraid to show what you got!” in his adorable accent.

The only problem is that I am so, so, so not coordinated in the booty shaking, hip gyrating area, and so I look like I’m convulsing more than Brazil Butt Lifting, but I’ve decided it’s all good because I’m having fun. Actually, it’s a lot like when Jillian does yoga. She’s clearly aware that what she’s doing is a total abomination, but she’s not going to apologize for it and neither am I.

If my new Latino neighbors happen to see me through the window, trying my little white girl heart out to do the Lambada moves, and they wind up pointing and laughing and running inside because it’s raining again, so be it.

I, Queefies, will not care because my ass is gonna be spectacular and they can just get an umbrella and shut the fuck up.

Happy Fall, Queefies!

I love fall, but with every new season comes the need for…duh. duh. duuuuuunnnnn

New clothes.

You know how I hate shopping for clothes, right? You should click on that.  It’s from way back when I was fun.

But I had to totally douche my wardrobe the other day after crying and tossing shit over my head and swearing.  I wound up with two trash bags full of stuff to throw away and another one full of shoes and sweaters and pants and shirts and other crap to donate to Saver’s. I pretty much had nothing left but a couple of pairs of jeans and some not too horrible shirts. I’ve been buying stuff for the kids and I forget to buy stuff for myself and so now all my stuff is just ratty.

Actually, that’s not completely true. Shopping for me sucks and every time I start, I get frustrated and go “I wonder what they’ve got for kids! Lemme check realquick” and then the kids wind up with something wonderful and cute and my shit just gets older and tireder.

People think I’m the Third World Refugee Nanny.

So lately I’ve been shopping and forcing myself to stay on task and not go to the kid’s department. I’ve brought home a few things to try on because fucking forget trying shit on at the store with a 15 month-old. It’s all grab and go for me right now. And I’ve promptly brought it all right back. I bought a bunch of shit online from Gap but their clothes are as exciting as a bag of white sweat socks. I now have some very sassy long-sleeved Favorite Tees in white, navy, and charcoal! YAY!

Are we asleep yet?

I got some sweaters too, but this stuff is all just staples. None of it is pretty, and none of it is making me feel fierce.  I guess right now I’m just settling for not homeless?

If I could, I would totally try to rock some super feminine bohemian thing because that’s the stuff I gravitate toward, but whenever I actually try to coordinate something like that, I look like I’m wearing a Gypsy Halloween costume. Also, where do you find stuff like that? Stuff I can actually afford. They ain’t got that shit over at Gap, I can tell you that much.

I’ve also been trying to find some fabulous patterned tights with maybe some flowers on them or a non-dorky paisley (can paisley ever be non-dorky? I say yes) to wear with a denim mini skirt and my Dansko Sallys or something and NOT STRIPES and NOT FISHNET and NOT NEON, but they don’t exist.

I totally HATE the 80’s bullshit right now. I do not want a shirt with a guitar on it. I’m all fucking set.

And forget about shoes. I have not seen one single pair of shoes that I would want to wear in a long, long time. I went to DSW and out of that whole sea of freakin’ shoes, there was ONE pair I liked and they didn’t have my size.

Are we getting a feel for why I dress like an old fishwife now?

Yeah.

So where do you guys shop? I need you to send me where you find stuff that is non-hideous and non-Third World Refugee Nanny or you may used the form provided below to share your own wardrobe drama.

Please and thank you.

PS:  In stark contrast to the commenter last week at Toy with Me who clutched her pearls at my use of the term “cum dumpster,” yesterday someone called me a prude.  A PRUDE!  ME!!!!  Can you even imagine?  To that I say, “Mon. Dieu.” and also “Ah-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That’s some funny stuff right there.”  I want so much to go over there and defend myself, but I will not lower myself to the level of the trolls.  I will’nt.  But I soooo want to. Have I ever admitted to you guys how hard it is to come up with stuff to write about every week, and to be criticized for I say and for revealing intimate details of my sex life it…well, you know.  Aunt Becky is also a prude, fyi.   This person clearly does not understand the mighty awesome Internettian power Aunt Becky and I wield.  Well, mostly her, but me a little bit too.  We could hurt people with our words if we so chose!

Do you hate it when the only facebook updates people give are to let you know they’re out having a life and how fun it is?

What the fuck is that?

Like, don’t they have anything else going on in their lives other than vacations and fabulous dinners out with friends?  Don’t these people ever get pissed they have to do the dishes or…or get hemorrhoids?

I wanna see what’s really going on with my “friends,” not what they want everyone to think their life is like.

It ain’t all Margaritas and beaches and the. most. amazing. sushi! all the fucking time.

I want something truly interesting to happen to them because eventually the sushi is gonna give them The Diarrhea and then what will they have to say?

Absolutely nothing because their lives are nothing but awesome all the time, or so they would have us believe.

Like, wouldn’t it be more fun to read about how they got bloody ‘roids on the beach, and how the blood attracted sharks who ate their legs off  but left their assholes (because  sharks know that if you eat hemorrhoids, you get them), and so now they have a spilled Margarita,  hemorrhoids, and no legs.

That’s the story I wanna hear!

I think I’m going to start leaving updates like that in hopes it will inspire the “ahhhh. surf and sand.  It doesn’t get any better that this!” people to cut the shit.

And if you think I’m jealous of those people, you’re totally wrong.  I’ve already done my self-exploration on that one.  They’re just obnoxious and it makes me stabby to think that they think these updates are interesting to anyone other than themselves.

Oh, and those “pics to come later” that they promised?  I’m not exactly sitting on my computer waiting anxiously for them to post,  so they can take their time on that one.  I might look at them once they’re up, but it’s only to check to see if there’s a tampon string hanging out of the bathing suit.

Have any of you Queefies been truly interested in the details of someone else’s vacation?  Be honest.  I can’t be alone here.

PS: It is not lost on me that I post a myriad of updates on the latest happenings of my children, but they are way, way cuter than your umbrella drink vacation.