It's kind of depressing when you find out who your true friends are and discover that some who you'd put in that category actually would leave you in the dust. When you weed through, sometimes it's revealed that the ones who you thought had your back really don't give a flying fuck. Who knew? (screw 'em)
Long story.
I'm not doing great...this time of year is killer for me (I miss my Mom more than words can say) and I'm also experiencing a lot of shit in this hellhole condo that I am SERIOUSLY considering blowing up soon. Backed up drains, fucked toilets (at 2 am) and I'm not in the mood. This is what I've done to my drain over the past 48 hours:
1) Coat hangered 2) Drano'd (both the "industrial strength" gel and the old school crystals. I should snort them). 3) Coat hangered again 4) Baking soda'd & vinegar'd 5) Baking soda'd & red wine vinegar'd 6) Baking soda'd & balsamic vinegar'd Salad anyone? 7) Chanted and prayed around it 8) Sworn at it (alot...I have "FUCK" perfected to a groan that just barely comes out as a word...."fu-Ughckkkkk").
Detroit better win or some heads are gonna roll.....
(I'm having some wine, so my mood should drastically improve before I get back from the laundromat. Either that or the place will fucking blow)
Would someone please get my ass back into work before I kill someone or blow something up? I'm dangerously unfocused and, quite frankly, a little lost without a daily routine.
Last night when I got in I decided to replace the lightbulb inside the back door because I'm fucking crazy I was 5 for 5 in the burnt out department and in complete darkness down there. That was working for a minute, as the light from the outside would stream in through the window and make things barely navigatable (I made that word up - don't look it up). But tonight, when I arrived home in the dark and that light had also bit the big one, I was forced to perform a bit of a blindman's obstacle course to get inside the back door and through the junk room. As amusing as that was, it just wasn't going to work for the long haul so I figured it was high time that I got to the daunting task of changing light bulbs. How many tired, overworked single mothers does it take to change a light bulb?...None. They won't fucking do it because they're too busy, so deal with it.
Anyhow, I'm going green so I'm currently replacing the regular, energy sucking 8 day bulbs with CFL's. The pack I opened was a 2 pack and I took them both out then thought, as I walked down the stairs into the darkness carrying them in either hand, "this is probably not a good idea...I should've just brought one down at a time". I then sloughed it with an afterthought, "yeah, right, like I can't even carry two lightbulbs at once. Heh.".
Fool.
I clambered up onto a chair and got the first lightbulb in place over the back door and then it happened....my brain froze (again). "SPLAT"....the other bulb dropped out of my left hand and exploded everywhere. Now, I've recently read up a bit on these bulbs and wasn't sure if they're the right way to go because they do contain mercury and can be quite harmful if broken. "But I won't break them"....my ever lyin' inner voice told me...it thinks that I'm capable and sure handed. (IT's an idiot and obviously knows nothing about me).
"OK, well this sucks". I couldn't remember what to do, other than air out the area and cry....the back door flew open as I ran up to the internet, which is what I do right before I call 911. I grabbed some gloves and went back down after 15 minutes of fresh air to begin the painstaking game of find the broken shards. Of course, there's carpeting and a whole pile of shit down there, so it was a needle in a haystack good time.
My favorite (only good) shoes were the worst victims...they were violently attacked and were riddled with pieces of broken bulb. It couldn't be the ugly camo loafers with a velcro strap (what WAS I thinking?)....NO, it had to be the shoes I wear every fucking day and feel like I'm not wearing shoes at all. I was forced to throw them out and will now be barefoot until I get my ass to the mall and I do that as often as I change bulbs, so I hope the snow has stopped for good.
Now, I'm not sure if you're all aware of this, but when you break one of these bulbs it's important NOT to vacuum it up...the vacuum will then send the dust everywhere and you will instantly die from inhaling the vapors (well, not really, but last night I thought so). Have you ever tried to clean up a carpet without vacuuming it?...it's like telling a person with their jaw wired shut that they can't use a straw. It ain't happening. Anyhow, after an hour and a half of colorful language (fuckenshiznickler is also not a word), I managed to get rid of anything that was in the line of fire. Getting rid of the carpet, a suggested remedy, was not an option, as it's wall to wall. I actually considering burning the place down...it would solve so many problems. Damn inner voice again.
I'm now re-evaluating the purchase of these hand grenades and am pretty much sold on the "fuck the environment" line of thinking and will go back to my favorite cheap bulbs. When I compare the two options, something that requires a HAZMAT team and sealed containers for disposal somehow doesn't seem environmentally friendly or a good idea to me. Plus, my kid's health over rules everything and I ain't saving the world until they're looked after. Sorry folks, just the way it is.
I did sort of over react (I think) when my Dad phoned last night and I was having a panic attack and was near tears. When he asked me what was wrong (yes, it was that obvious), I said "OHMYGODPLEEEEEEEEASESAVEME, I BROKE A BULB AND IT'S IN MY SHOES AND EATING THE FLOOR AND SUFFOCATING ME WITH IT'S FUMES AND I'M GONNNNA DIIIIIIIIIIIIE DAD". He quickly calmed me down - amazing how reasonable people can do that. And then I went on the internet and didn't feel like such a drama queen after reading the story about the idiot woman who sealed off her kid's room and then coughed up two grand to have a professional team come in and clean up the mess. It's a lightbulb lady. Even I know better.
So today's a new day and I woke up feeling much better, only to make a pot of coffee that is swimming in grounds. Then I sat down to respond to some comments and my blog rejected me as the armed, word verification police asked me the password for entry, which is a question mark. Ha, got me. I'm sure this all means GO BACK TO BED.
I need my happy place because the world's a scary place (when I'm in it). Something about being around 92 year old senile people in diapers makes me feel very at home and in my zone. This time off has nearly killed me.
I leave you with our aquarium pictures and please be in awe that I didn't fall in the shark tank. I rule, don't I?
Oh and click on them to make them bigger. Frickin' magic. This was Lindsay's reaction when she saw this........ and apparently I need to buy her one for her birthday ..........Yes, I do tend to have that effect..... "Ahhh, this is the life." Whitenoise?.......that you? Dude, seriously.....I know how you feel.
Wahoo!....I'm off work until next Wednesday!!! Only there is one problem with that.....I don't get paid, so it actually kinda sucks.
Crack out the crackers and water friends, we're gonna party like it's 1933!
I had a root canal (my first) and I must say that it was AWESOME!! Yes, it really was. I'd been absolutely terrified, as my so called friends had been kind enough to scare the living bejeezus out of me beforehand with their tales of faces being ripped off. So I'd pretty much worked myself into a frenzy and have been hiding behind my couch. But it turns out that I felt nothing because the Ativan they gave me made me a drooling, slobbering mess. I loved it. I now realize that I would be a very cheap drug date....one hit and I'm a wreck for days. I was supposed to work after my appointment and don't recall the phonecall I made to tell them I wasn't coming in, but I believe it went something like this.....
"JAB KLIDIFF RUBBADUBBA BLLLLLLIP. GLUSH?".
With a "weeeeeeeee" and a possible "yabbadabbadooo" in there. Apparently I made my point.
It's all just a blur now, but Ty tells me that when he awoke me from my very deep sleep I jumped up, ran around like a mad woman and said, "Oh my God, what time is it? What day is it? I HAVE TO GO TO THE DENTIST" as I headed towards the stairs. And then he steered me back to the couch and reassured me that I'd already been. Lovely....I'll go back to sleep now. (For 16 hours.)
Anyhow, I am never going to be scared of the dentist again now that I'm armed with my new best friend Lorazepam. They gave me a few extras to make sure I come back. I have no fear. How 'bout next week, I'm free?
So really, not much happening around here that's newsworthy. Linds wants to drag my sorry, strung out ass here, which sounds about as much fun as slamming my head into a phonebooth while bagpipes play into my ear. No thanks hon, I'll pass....11,000 screaming Spring breakers under a dome does not a party make. I'll fork over what's left in the piggy bank and play taxi.
We are going to the aquarium on Friday, as my daughter has informed me that I've never taken her there. So fishees it is.
Not sure about an Easter dinner, as everyone's scattered all over the place - but, honestly, I'll be quite happy to dine on my Pesto Penne. This one's BY FAR the best that Stouffer's makes, for those unfamiliar with their brand of crack. Jesus would approve.
Anyhow, my weekend starts now so I'll have to catch you cats later. Behave. ;)
Telemarketers are annoying at the best of times, but when they're rude and pushy I honestly think they should be made into coats and given out to homeless people.
The other night after work I was feeling like crap and drifting off to sleep on the couch. I NEVER do that and am usually burning the candles until 1 or 2 am, but my body was screaming at me to shut down early. So I'd decided to watch TV and take it easy for the night. At 7:45 or so the phone rang and when I got up to answer it an unfamiliar male voice was on the other end: "hello, is this Debbie *****?". I always insist that strangers identify themselves before I'll continue talking to them, so I did so. The young man said he was calling on behalf of Shaw Cable, to which I interupted and said, "I'm sorry, I'm not interested tonight". I'd no sooner made my way back to my happy place on the couch when the phone rang again. It was dude again, and he'd now taken a somewhat nasty tone..."uh, look lady. You pay us money each month, right? ". Again, I interupted the little shit, in a not so nice way..."look, I don't care what this is about, it's past business hours and you're disturbing me". He then, rather gruffly, mumbled something about working in the area and possibly disrupting service and then hung up on me.
Now it was on.
I did *69 to retrieve the last number that had called and got an 800 number. I popped off an email to Shaw, telling them how I felt about their representative's behavior and then I went back to lala land.
The next day a Shaw rep called me to say that the number I'd given him was not connected to Shaw and that they'd never call in the evening to say they'd be in the area. So that one's a mystery and I started to wonder if maybe the guy who's suing Dad was somehow going to try and get info out of me. (I know, I have a very vivid imagination).
But maybe he's caught wind of my digging around in his business, as he's abruptly changed his Facebook page and I no longer can access it. They do have that application that lets you see who's been viewing your page the most and I'm sure that I'd be the number one hit on his. So maybe he's turning into a super sleuth too? For the life of me, I can't figure out what else this call could be all about.
Anyhow, it's a little strange and now this has tweaked my curiousity and I'd really like to know who this eager young beaver is. So I can make a coat out of him.
It's kind of depressing when you find out who your true friends are and discover that some who you'd put in that category actually would leave you in the dust. When you weed through, sometimes it's revealed that the ones who you thought had your back really don't give a flying fuck. Who knew? (screw 'em)
