Guess I spoke too soon...

So, I updated and thought I'd be blogging with the regularity of an old lady that dutifully drank her prune juice. And then. THEN. I was struck down. THE FLU entered my home.

I woke up perfectly fine. Was giggling and in a pretty damned decent mood. Alex came home (he'd been on Spring Break) from spending the night with his grandparents and gramma told me that his tummy had been bothering him. Uh oh. See, the boy had a birthday party to attend that day. Something he had been looking forward to for almost two weeks. It was all he could talk about. Well, when he was distracted from video game talk. He was looking a little rough, so I told him that we'd see how he was doing as the morning went on and maybe we'd just show up an hour late.

He didn't get any better. His poor little tummy just kept hurting and he started to get one of his headaches, so I called and let them know that he had gotten sick and we wouldn't be able to attend. Of course, there was a fit. I told him to go to his room until he was finished and he asked me why he was in trouble. I told him he wasn't in trouble and I knew that he was just venting his frustrations, but I was starting to not feel well myself and I figured that venting in his bedroom would be a better option for him, since he could get loud as hell in there. So, he had his fit for about an hour and a half. At one point, I went to the bathroom and listened to him tell himself how worthless he was cuzz he could never do anything fun. (Ok, this kid get sick EVERY.TIME. there is something he wants to do or if he gets time off school. Every holiday, he gets sick. Every school break, he gets sick. There's not been one holiday or anything that I can remember since he's been born that he's not been sick.) I went into his room and told him that wasn't true and blahblahtryingtobeagoodmommyblah. In the middle of my little speech, though, I had to run back into the bathroom. The sounds of spewing made him stop having his fit. I think that's when he realized that we were BOTH sick.

The next two days were spent with him laying on the floor on a make shift bed I made for him out of pillows and blankets and me laying on the couch with my pillow, blanket and Pound Puppy. There were MANY cartoons watched and video games played and naps taken. In fact, I didn't bother to set an alarm on Day Two of the Death Flu cuzz I honestly thought we'd be awake at 545 when the boy's dad showed up. Guess who said, "Fuck it, I'm not answering the door. Whoever it is can go to hell!" for the first couple knocks? Heh. Yeah... Daddy was none to happy when he saw Alex all conked out on the floor. The place was a disaster and the cats came out to greet him, so it looked like we were living in a possible junk yard. It was awesome. My hair was plastered to my head in the ever sexy greasy way. I had on sweat pants and an old baseball tshirt. I had just tripped over the Spider-Man chair that goes with the boy's table where he managed to eat some Ramen noodles. There were blankets EVERYWHERE. Dishes everywhere. Empty 2 liter bottles of Vernors were strewn about. 5 cats were wandering around, looking slightly lost and intently smelling Matt's jeans. I looked like the fucking Mother of the Year. He looked at me with one of those are-you-kidding-me looks and I looked at him and said, "Fuck off, we've got the Death Flu and if you keep looking at me that way, I am totally gonna lick you face and give YOU the Death Flu." He backed off cuzz he knew I'd do it. (I did that a couple times while we were married and he was being a dick. heheh.)

So, that's been the reason for this LATEST absence. Hopefully, I shall remain healthy and be able to entertain you all with tales of work place woe and kitty filled drama. Kinda like a soap opera, but with out the always romantic sex scenes. We don't typically do sex scenes around this joint, but if I run out of other material, I just might start!

Frightening, eh?

In Which I Suck At Playing Internets

Yes, I know. It's been forever and 3 years since I've written. I'm sure you've all been going through withdrawals from the poor grammar and the word "cuzz". Welp, now I'm back (for the time being) and everything will be ok my pets. You'll see.

I'm not completely sure what the hell has been going on with me lately, but I am going to chalk it up to out of whack hormones. Them bitches have NEVER behaved themselves. Fear not, I'm still full of PMSgoodness and whatever else that makes me so gosh darned lovable. (Seriously, I know you all just wanna squish me tight and call me George)

I've wanted to update about my grandmother having to be in the hospital for a few weeks and how my aunt flew in from Japan to help take care of her, but I haven't had the motivation. I've wanted to update about how I've started physical therapy and how I believe that it's really a training camp for dominatrixes, but, again, there's been absolutely no motivation. I've wanted to update about how I've gone all girly and have started having my nails done and have managed to not break a single one in a month and half, but, well, that damned motivation ran away from me. In short, I've spent a lot of time sitting on my couch trying not to cry at stupid fucking commercials. (I'm talking about being near hysterical tears over those commercials with the people made out of pipes who are afraid to do things for fear that they might spring a leak and OMG! I remember feeling like that when I was pregnant and would pee a little every time I sneezed and I felt like a totally gross whale who always smelled of BO and pee and so I got into the the habit of making sure I had deodorant and clean underwear in my purse AT ALL TIMES even though every one around me reassured me that I did NOT in fact smell like either BO or pee but they had to be lieing cuzz no one wants to piss off the preggo. Yeah... Fo realz, yo.)

So, all that stuff happened. Grandma is out of the hospital and is very comical when taking the Valium and Vicodin they gave her for pain. The physical therapy is still kicking my ass and I've been trying to walk everywhere while squeezing together my ass cheeks, sucking in my flubbery belly and sticking out my tits, which is way harder than you think, I promise. (They want me to walk like that and do all these horrible stretches. THEY'RE TRYING TO BREAK ME EVEN MORE!) And the hormones? Well, they still suck my ass.

Next up on my agenda is going to the doctor to have C-Nitrofurantoin and Mild Silver Protein given to me. Since I had to wait a few months to even get the prescription filled and then wait a couple more weeks to be able to have $40 to blow on it, only to read on the labels that I have to take it to the doctor's office, I can only assume that this is something that'll be put directly into my hoo-hoo and this displeases me greatly. When I was first diagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis (spelled wrong, I'm sure) I was told that I could have PILLS rather than injections. Either way, I was going to lose my hair (which is crayon red again cuzz I do not know my colors), so I figured I'd opt for the pills and totally skip over any kind of injections and/or insertion of ANYTHING. Looks like THAT plan went in the shitter. That should provide for some interesting material.

So, there you have it Intarwebs. I still love you, but I was having this thing and I have come crawling back, looking for your love and acceptance. Please tell me you didn't leave me when I was weak.

*cough*

Think I need to go smoke. Yeah...