Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Storms and Toy Story

I don't know about anyone else but I am loving this weather right now.  Over the weekend it was so hot and humid you'd break a sweat just walking outside. Now the humidity has lifted, and it's a beautiful 74 degrees and sunny, and the most I get to do is sit and watch it out the window.  This week has been completely dead.  The phone calls die at about 1 pm and we sit here and twiddle our fingers or asses for the remainder of the afternoon.  It's usually like this in between semesters though, it always picks up again and then our heads are spinning.

I believe I drank some sour milk this morning with my usual bowl of multi grain cheerios.  I smelled it first because I couldn't remember when I bought it...I vaguely remember grabbing it at Wal-fart but I couldn't remember when that was.  It smelled ok.  It smelled a little like plastic I guess, but it didn't smell sour...Anyway, I poured a generous portion of the supposed tainted milk into the bowl, scarfed my breakfast and on I went.  Before I even walked in the door my stomach started flipping.  I've been a known 'stomachacher' my whole life, just having a nervous stomach, so I occasionally will feel ill after eating breakfast.  I think it's just the sugar in most cereals that upsets it, and pancakes...OMG, PANCAKES, they are SO good, but they kill my stomach in the morning, so I ignored it and went to work.  A few hours later I started feeling nauseous, and felt like a storm was brewing in my undercarriages. Just really short and sharp (shart?), pains like a bolt of lightening was striking my intestinal track.  Whatever.  I feel like I'm in some kind of pain constantly.  My severe case of hypochondriacism is driving me c-r-a-z-y.  I'm convinced now I have OCD because I saw a show about it, and I'm pretty sure these sinus headaches are related to an inoperable tumor in my nasal passage.  If I knew any better, I'd have a nasal tumor, several different types of cancer, and whatever other things that my overactive brain can conjure up, all the same time. Siiiggggh...My boyfriend and my mom tell me I'm stupid, my dad, where I think I inherited this trait, would probably agree with me. Heh.

By the way, I never did give my review on Toy Story 3 which I saw recently.  I bought tickets online that morning because I was certain it was going to be sold out.  It was sunny and nice out all day, and an hour before I got off work, a really nasty storm started blowing in.  I am an avid weather reader, and I like to be prepared if such a storm does hit, so I was reading about this storm on when as if on cue, the sky was almost immediately black, the winds picked up to about 50 mph, and I was in the midst of begging my boss to let us leave early. Storms normally don't scare me, but when I am away from Ben, and my car is sitting outside in an approaching hail storm, I'm scared.  Plus, every room in our building has a window in it. Even a tiny bathroom in our kitchen has a tiny what the hell?  So I'm panicking, probably looking like an idiot, and getting visibly upset at this point, when what does my boss do, but starts JOKING with me...Basically calling me a liar, and probably thinking I'm just wanting to leave early because it's Friday, but I wasn't.  I was truly scared and I wanted to get home, get my SUV in the garage, and sit in the basement with Ben and Poster.  So he finally lets me leave around 4:20 and I raced outta here like I was on fire, and drove home. I managed to beat the pounding rain, but the wind was practically blowing me off the road.  Of course, as luck would have it, I get stuck behind an old fart out taking a drive in the country, going 30 in a 45, and I couldn't pass him because of all the dips in the road. I was so pissed.  This seems happen to me on the this road quite a bit.  It never fails.  Anyway, so I get home, the sirens start blaring and Rochelle (co-worker) calls me to tell me that our boss ultimately let everyone leave anyway because the power went out.  See? He never listens to me! I suddenly feel like I got punched in the gut when I realized that I'd bought my Toy Story tickets online that morning and they are nonrefundable.  The storm was heading towards the theatre the movie was at too, so we were a little perplexed on what to do. But, we made it. Luckily, the worst of the storm missed us and my $25 bucks wasn't wasted.

OK, NOW, the movie...It was awesome. Pixar never ceases to impress me. This was a GREAT ending to the classic Toy Story, and I highly suggest everyone go see it.

Oh and by the way, the movie didn't sell out, and it didn't even fill the theatre....sigh.

Well my stomach hurts, and I'm ready to get the hell out of this place.

I'm going to attempt a visit to the gym today, we'll see how that goes.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Emo Kids

It's just one of those Fridays today.  Busy morning, dead afternoon.  I've been sitting here listening to the a/c running in the office for the past hour. I even attempted to convince my boss over the yahoo messenger that leaving early today would be a good idea.  I told him us girls already took a vote on it.  He just sent me back a mad face, so I just assumed that was a no.

Ben and I are going to see Toy Story 3 tonight at The Paramount in shoot-em-up Kankakee.  I would enjoy going to this theater so much more if it was in a nicer neighborhood.  I hate going into movies here and having a bunch of little kids doing the crib walk during the movie, and have Shaqueefa talking to Moniqua as loud as possible on her cell phone about 'this baby daddy and that baby daddy', come on. Plus the staff here is just so SAD looking.  They are all pimply little emo kids with jet black hair swept forward into their eyes, thick rings of eyeliner around each tearful eye. It's so weird. If you hate your life and your job THAT much, go dig a hole in your backyard and live in that.  It'll be dark and cold like your soul.

Seriously though, what is wrong with some of these kids? Have you ever seen the sickishly skinny boys wearing skin tight girl pants with like purple zebra print shoes and a yellow bandana for a shirt? I just don't understand it.  I used to hang out with guys who would dress like that because I went through a slight emo phase myself when I was like 16.  But I didn't dress like a borderline goth, I just listened to a lot more sad acoustic music and started hanging around with 'scene kids' with septum peircings and weird peircings in the middle of their cheeks and whatever other freakishly I'm-screaming-for-attention peircings they could think of.  It got old really fast because I learned the hard way that emo kids are HIGHLY sensitive and easily offended.  If you say one thing that might question their motives it's an immediate drama fest. The guys were actually worse then the girls. One of my emo friends came over for a small drink fest at my house one night and my mom asked him why he had a purse, he replied angrily, "It's not a purse, it's a sachel!' (I swear to God I am not quoting 'The Hangover', this kid ACTUALLY said this, and this was in 2002), my mom replied, "Ohhh, so it's a man purse..." He didn't like that too much, but we had a good giggle over it later. That kid hated me for a long time and probably still does. Heh. Come to think of it, that kid actually worked at Paramount! What a coincidence! 

Well I'm outtie. Not much going on today.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Those Damn Lesbos

So I was at the gym last week sometime, can't remember which day, and one of those damn lesbians was there.  I was on the elliptacle that they never go on, and Uncle Pat was on the treadmill in front of me.  I noticed she kept looking out the window, every 5 minutes or so, and I was under the impression that she was looking over her shoulder at me to see if I was done yet.  I started to get real angsty and huffy about it.  I feel like everytime the butcher of the two is in there, she's always eyeballing me.  Not eyeballing me because she has a crush on me or anything (thank God), but eyeballing me because she's jealous or something that I'm using a machine she may potentially want to use soon. Finally, I saw that stupid red stationwagon pull up, and you'd swear this lady had never seen Uncle Beatrice's so nauseating to watch. Uncle B is a short little woman about 4' 9", the tradition dykey salt and pepper grandma-do that old lesbians seem to adore so much, and bushy little eyebrows covered with glasses.  She walked in there with a big smile her face and practically glided over to Uncle Pat like she was in a dream and they stared at each other lovingly. It's so sickening. It's one of those things where your so disgusted you want to look away but you can't. So I just sood there and watched them chat while listening to my ipod and squinting my face in a disgusted fashion.  Uncle Pat is clearly the man in the relationship because she's very masculine. She stands like a guy, talks like a guy, and just has 'guy' mannerisms. I'm sure one of these days I will undoubtedly catch her 'fixing' her crotch area like a burly baseball player, then I will have wash my eyes.  Uncle B actually looks pretty normal and looks like she should work in a library or something, whereas I have a very strong suspicion that Uncle P works as a forklift truck driver in a factory somewhere. Luckily, the ambiguously gay duo hasn't been there all that much lately, which is good because they really put a damper on my work out with all there mushy love staring and their simultaneous work outs.  Yeah, you're gay, we know, but do you really have to work out in sync together and do all the same movements at exactly the same time? Gawd.  I have a boyfriend too, but you don't see us running side by side on a treadmill, at the exact same speed, jeez people.

But that's all for today, I'm off to the gymnasium. Byebye.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Xbox and Pickles

I'm not sure what's going on with me lately, but I swear for the past two weeks I have had a different bodily dilemma funkin' up my life. First, I'm not sure if it's allergies or what, but I get these staggering headaches, followed by nausea, followed by extreme fatigue, followed by me going to bed at 9:30 the night before I took my vacation day, sooo I shoulda been drinking and playing Halo 3 on Xbox and cussing out 12 year olds Xbox live, not going to bed. The next day, (this was last Thursday by the way, June 10th), Friday, I felt like I was constipated. Then it slowly turned into a dull pain in my abdomin and groin area, and I quickly realized that my bladder infection was coming back for revenge and I only had 3 pills left from the previous one from a month ago.  Yeah, I didn't finish the bottle like I was supposed too? Big whoop, wanna fight about it? So I payed the price and ended up having to go to the doctor again and pay $70 bucks out of pocket for him to tell me the same exact thing he told me last time and prescribe me the same exact medicine.  I originally called to ask them if they could just simply fill it for me since I knew what it was and they said no. Cheap asses...but nonetheless, they did take me yesterday without an appointment and got me in and outta there in 40 minutes.  The perks to that was that I got out of work an hour early, got my prescription refilled, and still had time to go to the grocery store, get my new registration sticker, and still made it home by 6pm to enjoy some yummy soup and sandwhiches with the man. Trust me, I would much rather pay $70 bucks and see a nice legitimate doctor, a minute from my house, then go sit back at Aunt Satan's Asshole, 25 minutes away, in the ghetto again, and wait 3 hours only to find out that I have to wait 3 more hours for a brand new doctor fresh outta med school...For those of you confused, please see my previous entry about 'Insurance-less chaps'.  So anyway, today I wake up, and I had to think whether or not I'd gone out drinking the night before.  My head was pounding.  I felt like someone had punched me directly in the eyeballs. My forehead, temples and cheekbones were thobbing like my head was a heartbeat, and I considered calling off work. Unfortunately, I had just taken a vacation day the previous Friday for a Phish show, so I couldn't take off another day.  So I popped two Aleve, got ready anyway, and carried on with the day.  Despite the pain I managed to get a lot done today and even made it to the gym to complete a mile on the treadmill--found out I lost about 8 pounds in the last month...awesome. I also found out that the scale at the gym that has been plaguing me for months is a peice of shit and adds about 4 pounds to everyone's losses.  So that whole time when I was freaking out thinking that I wasn't losing anything and couldn't figure it out, it was just the stupid scale...Did I not say it?!!? Did I not say a few posts ago, "I don't believe that scale"? I totally did.

Yesterday, upon returning home from the grocery store, I was unloading my groceries when a sickening crunch of breaking glass was heard from behind me, immediately followed by a wave of cold liquid on my new gladiator sandals. A giant jar of delictable Claussen pickle halves had ripped from the bag and attempted an escape.  So now, I'm standing there with my purse, 3 bags of groceries, feet soaked in pickle juice and those weird floaty spices, a pile of broken glass and about 8 beautiful pickles laying in the driveway.  For a second I just stood there, seriously considering picking up the driveway pickles, rinsing them, and transporting them into a tupperware...then I pictured myself marching back to the grocery store with the contents of the pickled mess in a plastic bag and demanding a new jar. Claussen's aren't cheap, they are roughly $4 bucks a jar, and never on sale, but they are SO worth it. The salty, garlickly goodness topped off with a perfect juicy crunch, you can't go wrong.  They aren't vinegary and rubbery like some. Yuck. But, I digress...I went inside and got the broom, and sadly swept the poor little guys, accompanied by a pile of shards, into a dustpan, and threw them into the garbage in slow motion. I could hear them screaming on the way down, and I had to walk away. It was a sad day in pickle history, and I'm SO pissed at that little blond idiot at the grocery store who didn't double bag my glass. She looked like Garth Algar from Wayne's World. Infact, she put a plasic jug of cranberry juice in with it.  I mean, who does that?  It's not rocket science...when you are distributing the items into a plastic bag, you can pretty much determine at that moment whether or not the bag will be able to hold the heavier items without overstretching the bag. Sigh. So being the nice person that I am, I disregarded the whole situation, and gave the Garth-look-a-like girl a break, for now.

I also hit a bird with the Sante Fe today...there were definitely bird guts in my grill and I wanted to throw up upon inspecting it. The thing flew right into my car while heading down a main highway...I just pictured the oncoming drivers laughing at me.

Well Ben is snoring on the couch, and I'm taking this opportunity to play me some Halo, so I will see everyone on the flip side.

Party on Wayne, party on Garth.


Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Ants, cats and things...

I woke up today, feeling like a zombie. I have a feeling it has something to do with the humidity making me feel sluggish, or the fact that we just got back from a fun, sun and beer filled weekend, but I had an extremely hard time getting up this morning.  I trudged down the stairs, eyes still closed, found the werewolf and snuggled with him on the couch for a few more minutes before he scrambled away.  After my shower, I was getting ready for work as I usually do, when I noticed there was some kind of parade going on.

This wasn't a normal parade with music and gay floats and what not...but a parade of hundreds of ants filing giddily into my kitchen.  I stepped closer to the sink, one foot at a time, eyes wide like the ants were some kind of alien ants and were going to spew acid in my face or something...I muttered a load of obsenities under my breath...They were everywhere. The parade ended in a town ant meeting in my sink...I just stood there, staring. I had no idea what to was about 8:10, I had to leave in about a half hour.  My hair wasn't done, lunch wasn't made, no breakfast had been eaten, and I knew this little fiasco was going to take up some time.  My first thought was I needed to spray them with something, and not having any bug spray, we use Lysol antibacterial spray to kill pests.  So, I drenched them in antibacterial spray.  It killed all the ones having a party, but did not stop them from filing in from the outside.  They were coming in from the back door, and the crack where the cabinets and the floor meet.  There is also a giant hill in our garage, and apparently another one under the porch, so I have a pretty good feeling they were coming in from the basement.  So I vaccumed and Lysol-ed them all for the time being, then threw the vaccum bag away. While all this was going on, Poster decided this would be a fine time to get inside the cabinets and roam around, which he knows he should not be doing, but seems to enjoy testing my patience when necessary--I was over this day already and I'd been awake for about an hour.

I finished doing my hair quick, and by this time, it was 8:44.  Awesome. I had literally no time to do anything else.  I brought a tupperware of cheerios and a 'bullet' of milk (the airtight container found on a 'magic bullet mixer'), for my breakfast, stomped on a few ants on my way out and drove to work in an angry tizzy.  I don't even remember driving to work, that's how angry I was. As I'm sitting down to start my day at the office, it dawned on me that it was June 1st.  June 1st is the day my sticker expires on my car. So I called around for prices and everywhere is pretty much the same...$104.00.  Including a $5 convenience fee.  Convenient for who!?  So that just struck my angry bone some more.  It's only my luck to be pulled over and ticketed for the sticker, so I'm just waiting for that to happen...

So anyway, lunch time comes and I told the boss that I was going to take a long lunch so I could go home and spray for ants.  I called the local Dollar General to ask them if they had traps, they said yes.  When I got there, they didn't have any traps.  I guess within the 5 minutes I called there must've been a sudden rush of ant trap Crazies trampling into DG, must be an out break of ants or something (rolls eyes).  So I settled for a indoor/outdoor Raid spray with a 'fresh comforting scent', which I found to be some sort of oxymoron...A can of death with a fresh comforting scent...oook.

So I sprayed a perfect jet of comforting death spray into the ants marching grounds, being careful to make sure I didn't get it everywhere because of the werewolf.  I sprayed it precisely into the crack where the cabinets and floor meet, in front of the back door, and unloaded a destructive amount of spray into the hill in the garage.  I went back in and took a papertowel around the cabinets where I sprayed to make sure Poster didn't get any notions.  But as usual, I was right. He promptly made his way straight to where I just sprayed and began sniffing around. Don't be fooled, the fresh comforting spray evidently attracts asshole cats as well as entices humans with the beautiful aroma. But I wanted to see what he did.  I couldn't stay at home to baby-sitt the little snot all day, so I watched him to see what he would do.  Luckily, he only sniffed and carried on his way. 

I wanted to mention also, that yesterday, we bought him new elevated bowls because he has a bad habit of pushing his water bowl all over, causing it to spill. He also usually pushes it right next to his box, which is never a good thing.  So these elevated bowls are simply two steel bowls, perched into a large plastic holder with a rubber ring on the bottom. Kind of like the one in the picture, except black.  I spent $14 bucks on this thing, and what does he do as soon as I set it down and fill it up for him? I walk away, and I hear him pushing it across the floor.

I need a vacation. Seriously.