Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Technologically Challenged

Well, I've just joined Facebook. I've only been on there twice and I'm already confused. What else is new? I freakin' hate technology. I'm going to have to go out and buy one of those blue ray things if I want to watch movies soon, I'm sure of it. I don't want to have to deal with that. I've just figured out all the buttons on my DVD player. Freakin' technology.

I've picked a horrible time to decide that 30 pounds is where I stop gaining weight back. The office gave us pizza for lunch today and now the break room is full of chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate. Freakin' Christmas. Why can't it be the holiday of salad, huh? I absolutely cannot gain any more weight. If I go up a size after I worked so hard to get where I am (and, yes, I know it's still a gigantic size) I'll die. And if I die, well, then I'll go down quite a few sizes now, won't I? Ha!

Heeeeeeere's Gracie! Errr, well, I guess, theeeeere's Gracie. Up at the top of the page. I'd like to post her here, but can't seem to figure out how.

Freakin' technology.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Blog Slacker

I can't believe how long it's been since I blogged! I didn't even blog about the election! It's just been so crazy here lately, I haven't had much time to use this computer for anything other than work stuff. Which, you know, is really all I'm supposed to be using it for and stuff.

So, yeah, Barack won. Woo-hoo! I'm so happy. Hopefully he makes good on his promises and turns this country around. So far, so good. Gas is down to an almost tolerable price. I don't think he really had anything to do with that and it's actually the lousy economy that's caused the decrease, but I'm going to give him credit for it anyway. But he's still trying to sell me stuff. You're not getting my $5, Mr. President. Back the freak off! Go pick out a puppy or something and leave me alone.

Speaking of puppies..... HUGE announcement... Drumroll, please!

I've put a down payment down on one! A mini Austrailian Shepherd. Not sure if I'm getting a female or male. I'm third pick of the puppies and the second pick won't pick their puppy until this coming weekend. I want a blue merle, and the litter only has one female blue merle, so if the second pick people pick a peck of pickled pepp... er, I mean, the female, then I'll have to take a male. Fine by me, I think. I've never had a male dog before, but I'm sure it will be fine. Keeping my fingers crossed for the female, though. It's been 13 years since I've had a puppy. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about the whole thing, but there's no going back now. Check is in the mail. I just turned the corner one day and was ready... so very, very ready.

And, boy, don't I miss my Kelcie girl. I surely, surely do.

I feel guilty about spending this much money on a puppy when there are so many dogs looking for homes in shelters. But this is what I want. I'm going to start bringing little care packages up to the shelter every once in a while to alleviate some of the guilt. I should have been doing that in the first place.

New puppy no name boy or girl will come home the second or third week in January.

Soooooo, I guess that's it from here. Seems like there's other stuff to blog about, but I'll be back. I've got to figure out how to make this not look like a bottle of Pepto.

Monday, November 3, 2008

It's the Most Horrible Time of the Year

It's 4:30 and pitch black outside. I hate this time of year. All the leaves are gone, grass is turning brown. You almost want snow to add some color to the world again.


But most of all, I hate driving home from work when it's pitch black outside. It just makes me feel so tired.. and hungry. Hungry for stuff like shepherd's pie and macaroni and cheese and casserole type stuff. Stick to your ribs, warm, comfort food. Now if I had someone at home to make the comfort food for me, I wouldn't mind so much. But since I have to comfort myself, it stinks. I hate this time of year.

But I'm on a mission. I'm determined that I am now going to use only products that are not tested on animals. So far I've discovered that everything I use is indeed tested on animals. I guess I didn't realize that this was still an issue in today's society. But Miss Lizzie Liz, my tree-hugger friend here at the agency--and I say "tree-hugger" with love--has pointed out to me that almost all health and beauty aid products are tested on animals. So being the socially conscious and responsible individual that I am (ahem) I am vowing to now use only non-animal tested products. Of course, this means I'll have to give up my Dove facial cloths and moisturizer and find some other goop to make my hair shiny. But I will! I've discovered that St. Ive's does not test on animals and neither does Nexxus. I will make this work!

Tomorrow is Election Day. Woo-hoo! I don't know why, but I love Election Day. I wonder if Barack will keep on emailing me and asking for my $5. I hope he wins. Hope, hope, hope.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Pepto Pink

A couple of things...

My blog looks like a bottle of Pepto Bismol.

It occurred to me last night that size 6, 8, 10 and 12 may now be considered plus size. Maybe Wal-Mart is not to blame after all.

My CD player in my car is jammed. I tried to get Velvet Revolver out to put AC/DC in and it jammed. So now I've got to go to the lousy car place and get it fixed. Cut my brake lines, smash my windshield, slash my tires, but do not mess with my CD player! I had to listen to the radio this morning on the way to work. The radio! I knew it was going to be a bad day.

And, finally, I hate to admit it, but I think I'm a lesbian hater. I hate, hate, hate the story line involving Callie and Hahn on Grey's. Hate it! Somebody find Callie a man right freakin' now!

I've got the weekend off from the store. Woo-hoo! I see a sweat pants day in my future!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Why, Wal-Mart, Why?

Let me start by saying I hate Wal-Mart. Hate them. Most days I would rather take a beating than have to go to Wal-Mart. I hate it because, A, I will always spend too much money, and, B, someone or something will inevitably piss me off. So I don't go very often. But I really wanted the new AC/DC CD and it seems the old boys sold their souls to the devil (and not in the cool rock 'n' roll sort of way; it's the evil retail giant has me by the short and curlies sort of way) and the only place you can buy it is Wal-Mart, so I decided to go at lunchtime and pick it up. Guess what? I spent too much money and something pissed me off.

Instead of just heading straight for the electronics/entertainment department and picking up the CD like I should have, I got distracted and decided to stop in the clothing department and look for pants. I need new pants for work. Now shopping as a, ummmm, voloptuous (read: damn fat) woman is hard, and it's especially hard at this age. I'm not that old yet. I'm not ready for flower-covered house dresses or sweaters with quilted patchwork designs of geese wearing hats emboridered on them. And when I lost weight and actually became a size, instead of having to just buy the biggest thing I could find on the rack, I promised myself that I would never go back to wearing elastic waist pants with no zipper or button that I could pull all the way up to my chin. These, unfortunately, are what you're going to find the most of in any plus-size department you go to. Apparently the fashion world is convinced that fat chicks can only be housebound old ladies obsessed with hat-wearing web-footed creatures and pastel colored-flowers. No way could a fat chick actually be a still fairly young professoinal who would like to dress the part.

But I digress. Our Wal-Mart has recently been renovated and everything has been moved around. So I finally find the "Women's" department and bypass the flowers, geese and stretch pants, and head for a rack that contains some really cute office attire. As I'm hading to the rack, I start to think about how many months it's been since I actually paid my phone bill and wonder if I have another month before I get the pink notice, because obviously this little venture to Wal-Mart is going to cost me more than the originally estimated $11.99 for the AC/DC CD. I head straight for the blue pinstripe pants, because I really need something in blue, and pick them off the rack, only to discover that they are a size 8.

What? Size 8? I haven't been a size 8 since... well, I don't think I've ever been a size 8, not even when I was eight. So I look at the other pants and see a size 6, a size 10, 12, more 8's, a few more 12's, and it slowly dawns on me that this entire rack of clothing is not the plus-size motherload that I'd thought I'd found, but is just an evil reminder of the cute clothes all normal size women can wear while I am forever banished to the flowery geese with elastic waists section. Upon closer inspection, I see that there are also other racks of clothes in sizes in the single digits mixed among the fat chick stuff. So I take a deep cleansing breath--this is Wal-Mart after all--and search the racks that have clothes that will fit me and finally settle on a pair of pants that I can almost stand and a couple of tops.

I decide that while I'm there, I could use some new underwear. I may hate Wal-Mart, but they are the only place I can find that has hold in your tummy briefs that don't actually cut off your circulation or just push all the fat upward and make your belly hang over your waistband. So I head for the fat chick underwear section and what do I discover? You guessed it. The tummy holding in underwear is mixed among the skinny girl thongs and hoochy mama panties. Great. Just great. Wal-Mart, you never fail me. Now I have one more thing to add to my cotinually growing list of reasons to hate you.

Thank God the AC/DC CD only came in one size. Though you do have to pick from either a yellow, red or silver CD jacket. I got red.

Monday, October 20, 2008

There's No Crying In Baseball


Well, somebody needs to explain that to all the Sox fans I work with. Good Lord, you'd think that George W. Bush got elected for a third term or something with all the belly-aching that's going on around here this morning. I'm not a true baseball fan--or any kind of sports fan, for that matter--but I do have to admit to watching bits and pieces of the last few games just because of all the hoopla that's surrounded them. I live in part of the Red Sox nation and it's all I've heard about from anyone the past few weeks, so, yeah, I watched a little. Didn't have a clue in the world what was going on, but I watched. (Like, why is it an out when the outfielder catches the ball after it's been hit, but not when someone in the in-field catches it? Why do the in-fielders have to throw it to base and the outfielder doesn't? Am I understanding that correctly? Seemed to be the case from what I watched. Why? Why don't they all have to throw it to base? These are things I'd like to know.) I wanted the Sox to win for loyalty's sake, but holy moly, those Tampa Bay boys were hot! And the Red Sox look so unkempt. Why are their uniforms 10 sizes too big and don't any of them own razors or combs? You'd think with all the money they make, someone could invest in an iron and a Schick.


I wish Barak O'Bama would stop emailing me. It's getting a little annoying. I seriously doubt that he needs my $5. Yes, I would like to have a magnet for my car, but I'd rather get those cute shoes I saw at Payless. So give it up, Bama. You will not win the battle of politics or shoes with me.

It was 24 degrees here this morning and we're supposed to get three inches of snow tomorrow night in to Wednesday. God help me, it's started. I'm sorry I ever uttered a word about how hot it was in Myrtle Beach a month ago. I'd give anything to be there again right friggin' now.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

I've Seen the Future And....

It ain't pretty.

Well, it's really not that bad, I guess, but you know how reality creeps in and smacks you in the face every once in a while? Well, that happened to me today.

It's rainy and cold here today so I decided to take my daily walk in the mall at lunchtime because I know when I get home tonight I'm going to get all cozy and not feel like going back in to town to go to the Wellness Center and walk. I still can't get over the fact that I live somewhere where I have to use the phrase "go back in to town." I've lived in town my whole life and now I'm living far enough out of city limits for hunters to be able to shoot poor Bullwinkle in the field across from my apartment. And our cracker jack police force could give a wit that I'm horrified by the fact that guns can legally be fired within earshot from my living room. And how do I know that? Well, I called them afer the first shot was fired and I saw those orange vest clad moose murderers high-five each other and jump for joy as the poor thing stumbled to its death. I don't think I really live that far out of town. How much sportsmanship is there to just pulling your pickup truck over on the side of the highway and pulling out your gun and blasting the poor thing? Shouldn't they have to put a little more effort into it? Apparently not, according to Caribou's finest. And apparently they can fire all the guns they want across from my apartment as long as it's hunting season. Good to know. Didn't seem to bother the old man who lives next door to me either. He looked at me like I had just landed a spaceship on his dog when I voiced my concern to him. His exact words were, "Well, it's hunting season." Yeah, OK. Point taken.

And speaking of points... back to mine.

So I walk through the food court and see three of my aunts sitting there together. Two are my father's sisters, and one is married to my mother's brother, so no blood relation really, but she's one of the few of my aunts that I actually like. One of my father's sisters is in the early stages of Alzheimer's and the other one is suffering from breast cancer. And my poor Aunt Phyllis--the one who I do not share genetics with--has had every kind of medical problem there is to be had. So I stop to talk and they fawn over me and tell me how pretty I am (which I know as family they are obligated to do) and one of them points out how I don't have any wrinkles yet. Then says, "How old are you now, dear? 45?"


Thank goodness it was the one with Alzheimer's or I may have taken that personally.

So I say, "Ummm, no, Aunt Juanita, actually I'm not even 40 yet." And my Aunt Phyllis, God love her, says, "Yes, Nita, Lisa's the baby of the family, remember? She's only 40."

"Oh, sure," my Aunt Nita says, "I remember. That's why she doesn't have wrinkles. I didn't have wrinkles at 40 either."

To which I wanted to scream, "I'm not 40! Stop saying 40! The next person who says 40 is going to get Tim Horton's hot coffee splashed in their face!" But I didn't. Instead, I examined my Aunt Juanita's and Aunt Winnie's faces--Aunt Winnie, who agreed that she didn't have wrinkles at 40 either--and suddenly saw what I'm going to look like in another 35, 40 years.

Trust me, I'm going to have wrinkles.

These are my father's sisters. I look a lot like my father and he looked a lot like his sisters. I saw my future today. Good Lord. I think I may change my position on Botox.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Take This Job and Love It

I've been in such a crappy mood lately and I don't know why. I guess a lot of it has to do with the fact that I work every freakin' day of my life either at the agency or at the store. And this time of year... the pretty leaves are gone, it's getting really cold, and the ultimate S-word can be expected just about any time now. True, if we get some now, it probably won't stay, but there's always the chance that we could get some. It's happened before. I just don't know what happened to summer. I think it was just Tuesday that the leaves were starting to pop out on the trees and now, not even a week later it seems, they're gone. What the...?!?

But today is a behind closed doors work day here at the agency. We come in in our jeans and sneakies--heck, we could come in in our PJs if we wanted to--and get to get caught up on stuff you don't usually have time to do when the phones are rigning off the hook and you've got customers coming in and plopping their big whiny-ass butts down in your chair and complaining about everything on earth. So we get caught up on filing and paperwork and little busy-work type stuff that needs to get done. Today we decided to do a potluck. My God, there's so much food in the break room, we could feed a small country. But what I'm loving about being here today is the laughter that's coming from the office. I don't appreciate that enough. These are good people I work with. We all have similar personalities and senses of humor and there's always at least one big eruption of laughter here per day, even when we're open and full of whiny-ass customers. On days like this, though, it's almost non-stop. I really need to stop complaining about working all the time and be thankful I love the people I work with. Not many people have that. So thanks to the powers that be for my co-workers.

Now the grocery store, that's another issue. I apparently "tweaked" on Saturday, according to one of the 12-year-olds I work with, when he and all the other 12-year-olds were all cross-talking and telling inappropriate jokes when we had lines of customers clear to the back of the store. I guess telling them to pay attention to their customers and watch their filthy mouths is called "tweaking" these days. What I really "tweaked" over is the fact that they didn't realize what they were doing was wrong. What is wrong with kids these days? Did I act like that when I was 17? I don't think I did. I know I sound like a crabby old lady, and maybe I am, but I weep for our future.

OK, well, I'll weep later. Right now I'm going to go pig out and laugh with my cool co-workers.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008


Did I miss "Dancing with the Stars" last night?

I think I did!


I don't know why I love that show, but I do. And I've also forgotten to watch "The Amazing Race" at all this season.

Double crap.

I apparently am suffering from TV amnesia this year.

I think I also missed "Grey's Anatomy" last week. Now that's just unacceptable. What is wrong with me? I freakin' love that show. Well, I used to freakin' love that show. Now I just love to remember when I loved that show and hope beyond all hope that it gets better. And maybe it has gotten better. How would I know, because...



Friday, October 3, 2008

For Starchy

OK. Well, here I am at work, should be working, but I just took time out to wish my dear little friend Meggie a happy birthday and checked Starchy's blog to see if it's updated. And it's not. But that's OK. Apparently she works while she's at work. And I started to think about how she encouraged me many, many moons ago to start a blog, so here I am, starting a blog.

I warn you, it will be boring. Not much happens here. Thankfully, because it seems when something does happen it's not for the good.

Let's see, what's on my mind? Watched the debate last night. Or part of it anyway. I fell asleep about 45 minutes in. I've decided that Sarah Palin is just an actress. She did great when she was rattling off stuff that was obviously written for her, but not so great when asked direct questions that required her to actually come up with an answer on her own. And that voice! Dear God in Heaven, if John McCain were to croak while in office (And let's face it, he could. He's, what, 90 years old?) and she took over, I'd have to cut myself off from all media and move to Siberia (which I think Palin can see from her home, right?) until she was out of office. I love the movie "Fargo," but I could not listen to that accent every day of my life. I'd surely break my TV, you betcha, yeah, I would. But, I guess, politician and actor/actress are pretty much synonymous, so I guess it's not fair to accuse her of the only one being phony.

But she is.

And that accent! Oy-vey!

O'Bama/Biden, baby. O'Bama/Biden.

I'm friggin' hungry. Lunch is in 13 minutes. Woo-hoo!

So here you go, Starch. I'll try to remain faithful to this blog. And I hope I can make mine almost as entertaining as yours. :)