"I love that your idea of morning and my idea of morning are the EXACT same thing."
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
My AH-Mazing Trip to FL - Part 3 (I'm "fair"ly certain that this was fun and my meeting with you "can be my Doug")
"Must find french fries...it's my only means of survival."
Sunday, February 21, 2010
My AH-Mazing Trip to FL - Part 2 (I cried, I laughed and at one point I wondered what the hell is that taste in my mouth)
"19 years can pass quickly when your living life, but you never really forget about the ones that aren't there living it with you."
Saturday, February 20, 2010
My AH-Mazing FL Trip - Part 1 (aka...the first 24hrs)
Life is crazy sometimes. My life, well it is crazy all the time. There are 24hrs in a day...7 days in a week and 365 days in a year...all of them, for me...for the most part are C-R-A-Z-Y! Not "crazy busy" or "crazy hectic" but "holy shit is this really happening right now" kind of craziness.
So what is one to do when life is just coming down on ya and you need to get your bearings?? Well, if you're me...you plan a trip back home. I had gone back and forth with the idea for awhile but then the opportunity presented itself along with free lodging and a LONG break from the new job (God bless you Louisiana and your Mardi Gras lovin self) so it was time to hit the road, literally, and make the drive down to my hometown of Clearwater, FL.
"Who packs the night before and forgets their friggin camera???"
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Excuse me Sean Payton...where's my Thank You?!?
In case you've been living under a rock or in a cave or been in a coma or in a long standing depressive state with days on end spent wrapped in your comforter you may not have heard that.....THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS ARE SUPER BOWL CHAMPIONS!
Now what you or even the most die hard Saints fan may not be aware of is that while Drew Brees was crowned MVP, it is I...yes, me...that should be getting some of that Who Dat love. Yep. You read that right. While those boys in Black and Gold busted butt out on the field game after game I was also playing a very cunning and instrumental part in their journey to Super Bowl stardom.
What was this amazing contribution you ask?
Well...I was sleeping.
Yep, sleeping. Every time they hit the field for a game I would curl up, turn off the television...shut down the Facebook and slip into a Saints game day slumber. After every snooze I would get the news that they won.
As the wins were racked up so were my times of napping. But then I started realizing that there were other things that I could being doing while the game was on. So I'd run errands, talk to friends, play on the computer or find other things to occupy my time. On those occasions....the Saints lost.
When they play-off's came around I had a conversation with Jon and a few of my die hard Saint fan friends. Everyone except for one of my very close girlfriends seemed to think my superstitious ritual was ridiculous and that whether I was awake or asleep would pose no bearing on the outcome. But I decided to keep to my ritual. Then it was the game against the Vikings. The Saints were winning and I woke up hungry. I made my way to the kitchen to get something to eat and meandered around the house a bit doing this or that. The Saints began to fall behind in the score.
It was then that Jon turned to me and said "maybe you should go lay back down". I wanted to say "I told you so" but decided I wasn't in the mood to argue and made my way back to lay down. I was awakened a little while later by Hannah screaming "Mom...MOM wake up...we won. The Saints won. They are going to the Super Bowl".
The next thing I know Jon was making sure that I knew that I'd need to be asleep for the Super Bowl and then I started getting text and Facebook messages from my friends that knew my ritual telling me that I needed to nap on the day of the big game. So the days ticked by and the whole city was in preparations for the Super Bowl.
I received several invites to watch the game but turned them all down. I even received an invite from one of my best friends who was having a birthday/Super Bowl party and I politely told her that while I wouldn't come over for the game I'd be sure to come as soon as it was over and celebrate her birthday.
The weekend of the Pro Bowl my friend Marianne cornered me and begged for me to come to the party since it was for her birthday. I felt torn. While I want to make her happy, especially for her birthday, I was not going to be held responsible for the consequences should the Saints lose and I'd be awake.
The next thing I know arrangements are being made for me to have a bed at the house of my friends that were hosting the birthday/Super Bowl party. When the day of the game rolled around we gathered with friends out in the streets of Slidell to watch the krewe of Dionysis roll for their annual Mardi Gras parade.
At 4:30p I showed up with family in tow, sporting p.j.'s, fuzzy pink slippers and toting my pillow and ear plugs in order to take my ritualistic nap.
When I made my way into the house you would have thought that I had been the one to score the game winning touchdown because people were hugging me and saying "thanks for sleeping". It was hysterical. The party went on for another few hours with singing and birthday cake for the birthday girl, Marianne and the birthday boy, Joe. And every so often someone would walk up and hug me or just say again how much they appreciated that I slept.
Mar came up to me and told me that she had told everyone at the party that if the Saints won she would let them "motorboat" her ample bosom. I laughed because we constantly quote "Wedding Crashers" and then asked her how many people took her up on her offer. She said she had announced it early on in the game and in the excitement she thought everyone must have forgotten. I then said, "well since I'm partly responsible for this win...I think I should DEFINITELY get to motorboat ya"....
I bet that's something that Sean Payton or Drew Brees, Jeremy Shockey or even Reggie Bush (well unless Kim Kardashian was offering up this service to the team) got to be a part of.
But as the team made their way home and met their throngs of fans at the airport and Drew took the ceremonial "I've just won the Super Bowl, so I'm going to Disney World" trip and made the circuit of talk shows and then the "Dat Tuesday" parade took place with 800,000 attendee's it became increasingly clear that the Saints weren't gonna throw any of their love my way and are hell bent on acting as if this win was ALL them.
Hmph...those unappreciative bastards!! See if I offer up this "assistance" next season!!
I guess we will just have to wait and see how they are feeling when it's time to take the field later this year. Maybe then Sean Payton will be calling up his secret weapon.
I'll be waiting.
Comforter at the ready.
And if they come to their senses and want to acknowledge my role in this years win....my first name is spelled J-E-S-S-I-C-A and the last name is P-E-T-T-U-S, you can find my address in the phone book and "gift's" less than $10,000 don't have to be reported to the IRS and I will take shoes in lieu of money...just sayin!
~JP
Now what you or even the most die hard Saints fan may not be aware of is that while Drew Brees was crowned MVP, it is I...yes, me...that should be getting some of that Who Dat love. Yep. You read that right. While those boys in Black and Gold busted butt out on the field game after game I was also playing a very cunning and instrumental part in their journey to Super Bowl stardom.
What was this amazing contribution you ask?
Well...I was sleeping.
Yep, sleeping. Every time they hit the field for a game I would curl up, turn off the television...shut down the Facebook and slip into a Saints game day slumber. After every snooze I would get the news that they won.
As the wins were racked up so were my times of napping. But then I started realizing that there were other things that I could being doing while the game was on. So I'd run errands, talk to friends, play on the computer or find other things to occupy my time. On those occasions....the Saints lost.
When they play-off's came around I had a conversation with Jon and a few of my die hard Saint fan friends. Everyone except for one of my very close girlfriends seemed to think my superstitious ritual was ridiculous and that whether I was awake or asleep would pose no bearing on the outcome. But I decided to keep to my ritual. Then it was the game against the Vikings. The Saints were winning and I woke up hungry. I made my way to the kitchen to get something to eat and meandered around the house a bit doing this or that. The Saints began to fall behind in the score.
It was then that Jon turned to me and said "maybe you should go lay back down". I wanted to say "I told you so" but decided I wasn't in the mood to argue and made my way back to lay down. I was awakened a little while later by Hannah screaming "Mom...MOM wake up...we won. The Saints won. They are going to the Super Bowl".
The next thing I know Jon was making sure that I knew that I'd need to be asleep for the Super Bowl and then I started getting text and Facebook messages from my friends that knew my ritual telling me that I needed to nap on the day of the big game. So the days ticked by and the whole city was in preparations for the Super Bowl.
I received several invites to watch the game but turned them all down. I even received an invite from one of my best friends who was having a birthday/Super Bowl party and I politely told her that while I wouldn't come over for the game I'd be sure to come as soon as it was over and celebrate her birthday.
The weekend of the Pro Bowl my friend Marianne cornered me and begged for me to come to the party since it was for her birthday. I felt torn. While I want to make her happy, especially for her birthday, I was not going to be held responsible for the consequences should the Saints lose and I'd be awake.
The next thing I know arrangements are being made for me to have a bed at the house of my friends that were hosting the birthday/Super Bowl party. When the day of the game rolled around we gathered with friends out in the streets of Slidell to watch the krewe of Dionysis roll for their annual Mardi Gras parade.
The TPD Crew ~ Mar, Stacy & Me
Me and my ceremonial sleepwear. I'm pretty sure my kids hate me for wearing this in public.
The cup contains a margarita and is labeled "Sleepytime Juice".
As I walked into the party I was met with an equal number of appreciative and "what the hell is that person wearing" gazes. I didn't care what anyone thought once I saw my crew of girls...
Me, Stacy, Mar, Lynne & Allison (this group is affectionately named the Wine & Nerds club)
...their greetings and hugs of appreciation for me ACTUALLY agreeing to come over and sleep through the Super Bowl was amazing. Once I said my hello's I made my way up to Lynne's youngest daughters room and settled in to fall asleep. The one thing I had not planned on was the DJ and the karaoke machine that would be on. I managed to tune everything out and fall asleep for a good while but woke suddenly when a kid or a few of them slammed into a wall outside the room I was in and then I couldn't fall back to sleep with the extremely loud sound of the music from outside.
I sent a text to Jon to see what the score was and found out that the Saints were leading. Then within the few minutes I was awake the Colts managed to take the lead. I made a split decision and told Jon that I was gonna make a break for it and head home to my own bed. I slipped out of the house and headed home to my comfy bed and quiet house. As I snuggled down I got the text that the Saints had taken back the lead and then I drifted off to sleep again.
Finally, Olivia came in to say that the Saints had won and that she would really like a McFlurry. I loaded up the car with myself, Olivia and her friend Em and took them to McDonald's before heading back to be part of the post game celebration.
Mar came up to me and told me that she had told everyone at the party that if the Saints won she would let them "motorboat" her ample bosom. I laughed because we constantly quote "Wedding Crashers" and then asked her how many people took her up on her offer. She said she had announced it early on in the game and in the excitement she thought everyone must have forgotten. I then said, "well since I'm partly responsible for this win...I think I should DEFINITELY get to motorboat ya"....
What can I say except...they aren't built for speed...
...they are DEFINITELY built for comfort!
I bet that's something that Sean Payton or Drew Brees, Jeremy Shockey or even Reggie Bush (well unless Kim Kardashian was offering up this service to the team) got to be a part of.
But as the team made their way home and met their throngs of fans at the airport and Drew took the ceremonial "I've just won the Super Bowl, so I'm going to Disney World" trip and made the circuit of talk shows and then the "Dat Tuesday" parade took place with 800,000 attendee's it became increasingly clear that the Saints weren't gonna throw any of their love my way and are hell bent on acting as if this win was ALL them.
Hmph...those unappreciative bastards!! See if I offer up this "assistance" next season!!
I guess we will just have to wait and see how they are feeling when it's time to take the field later this year. Maybe then Sean Payton will be calling up his secret weapon.
I'll be waiting.
Comforter at the ready.
And if they come to their senses and want to acknowledge my role in this years win....my first name is spelled J-E-S-S-I-C-A and the last name is P-E-T-T-U-S, you can find my address in the phone book and "gift's" less than $10,000 don't have to be reported to the IRS and I will take shoes in lieu of money...just sayin!
~JP
Help....I've been sucked into the responsible anti-social vortex commonly known as "having a job"!
I'm sorry I haven't written lately. It hasn't been for lack of interesting or funny shit happening my life. Quite the contrary really.
I've finally emerged from the oblivion known as "being wrapped in the depressive cocoon of my comforter" and hit the ground running. I am finally and thankfully gainfully employed. After months of looking, interviewing, getting a job, losing the job to RIDICULOUS circumstances (seriously, when a new employee points out your MULTIPLE insurance and HIPAA violations....ummm, yeah you may wanna heed that warning before the Insurance Commissioner comes a knockin) then interviewing again and being passed over because I am "too personable". A full 6 months, dozen plus interviews and over 162 resumes sent I have landed a job that I didn't even know existed and was referred to by an employer that I was applying for. She said I'd be perfect for the position that another office had just mentioned they were looking to fill for an individual that was moving out of state after 10yrs of service with their practice. Turns out her intuition was fabulous because after one interview that lasted 3 1/2 hours, two separate observations and a working interview I was offered the position of Hygiene Coordinator for a local dental practice.
My days of sleeping, crying and farming (on FarmVille) have ceased and while I'm happy for the steady paycheck and reason to put on pants I am finding that all this "work" is leaving me little time to write or just watch endless hours of Lifetime television. It's a tough life I lead people.
My kids are even bitching a bit because alas, their schedules aren't of the utmost importance in my day. Their second complaint is that since returning to work my energy level has skyrocketed and thus I am on their asses every ten seconds about why they haven't picked up this or that and why they can't just "take care of it now" and "not 10 flippin minutes from now". This statement is usually followed by mass amounts of eye rolling and serious attitude.
It's a magical time being the parent to a tween and a teen. Sometimes I wonder if the Prozac will ever mellow me to the point of not wanting to beat the tar out of these two when they mount the attitude express on an hourly basis. All I can think is that I need to bask in this time period now before Hannah hits puberty and I'm flanked by two raging hormonal beings. When that day arrives I am going to go straight to my doctor and demand a monthly revolving prescription of Xanax that will need to be taken until they both no longer reside in my home.
For now I will just keep my focus on my new job and all the fun that will be had. That was sarcasm by the way....
~JP
I've finally emerged from the oblivion known as "being wrapped in the depressive cocoon of my comforter" and hit the ground running. I am finally and thankfully gainfully employed. After months of looking, interviewing, getting a job, losing the job to RIDICULOUS circumstances (seriously, when a new employee points out your MULTIPLE insurance and HIPAA violations....ummm, yeah you may wanna heed that warning before the Insurance Commissioner comes a knockin) then interviewing again and being passed over because I am "too personable". A full 6 months, dozen plus interviews and over 162 resumes sent I have landed a job that I didn't even know existed and was referred to by an employer that I was applying for. She said I'd be perfect for the position that another office had just mentioned they were looking to fill for an individual that was moving out of state after 10yrs of service with their practice. Turns out her intuition was fabulous because after one interview that lasted 3 1/2 hours, two separate observations and a working interview I was offered the position of Hygiene Coordinator for a local dental practice.
My days of sleeping, crying and farming (on FarmVille) have ceased and while I'm happy for the steady paycheck and reason to put on pants I am finding that all this "work" is leaving me little time to write or just watch endless hours of Lifetime television. It's a tough life I lead people.
My kids are even bitching a bit because alas, their schedules aren't of the utmost importance in my day. Their second complaint is that since returning to work my energy level has skyrocketed and thus I am on their asses every ten seconds about why they haven't picked up this or that and why they can't just "take care of it now" and "not 10 flippin minutes from now". This statement is usually followed by mass amounts of eye rolling and serious attitude.
It's a magical time being the parent to a tween and a teen. Sometimes I wonder if the Prozac will ever mellow me to the point of not wanting to beat the tar out of these two when they mount the attitude express on an hourly basis. All I can think is that I need to bask in this time period now before Hannah hits puberty and I'm flanked by two raging hormonal beings. When that day arrives I am going to go straight to my doctor and demand a monthly revolving prescription of Xanax that will need to be taken until they both no longer reside in my home.
For now I will just keep my focus on my new job and all the fun that will be had. That was sarcasm by the way....
~JP
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Seriously....who buys this??
Because I am ALL about providing hard hitting informative blogs...stop laughing...I am bringing this latest sampling of my take on what's being sold in the wee hours of the night.
You looking to get rid of that turkey neck?
Wanna pump up your booty??
Thinking of new ways to sculpt and tone your upper arms and make sure that they aren't waving good-bye when you are trying to say "hello gorgeous"???
Well fear no more my wonderful friends. There are a gaggle of jacklegs just praying that you are asking these questions and many more about your appearance. And they have spent gads of time and money cooking up a slew of items praying on your susceptibility to idiotic products that are thrown on your television at 3 o'clock in the morning.
Sometimes it's the promise of "quick results", other times it's the lure of that $19.99 price tag but more so I believe it is the exhaustion of your capacity to process realistic thoughts. Yep, in the span of just 45 minutes during another one of my sleepless nights I saw not one, not two, but three asinine infomercials for products such as the Neck Slimmer, the Brazilian Butt Lift workout system and the Shake Weight.
After each one I had to think...what's the draw? Sadly, my thought process should have been "what's the catch" but seriously...I'm exhausted and the fact that I am actually able to string together two lucid thoughts is beyond triumphant for me. So I decided to do a little research...yep, that's me...bored to death caring about you guys, my readers.
Well with the butt sculpter, if you call within the next 5 minutes you will get a....wait for it...make sure you're seated...a pencil. Yep. A whole pencil.
Really? REALLY a whole pencil?? Holy shit...let me drop what I am doing right this minute and make sure I get in on that little piece of gravity defying technology.
These people probably held a meeting to put together this deal and most likely went through a checklist of what would be in their "package".
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1: Umm, okay...so we've got the 3 DVD's, the fat burning food plan, the booty resistance band and a tape measure. It just feels like it's missing something don't you think?
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2: Gosh #1...I don't know. All that seems like a great deal for the $59.85 price point we are shooting for. How could we POSSIBLY make it better??
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1: I just feel like it needs something else (fidgets with the pencil in his hand and then makes a face as though he's had his very own Oprah "ah ha" moment) Do you think we should throw in a pencil?
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2: Wow...that is such a good question. But what would they use it for and would we need to increase the price?
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1: They'd use the pencil to shove in the fat crease that is on their flabby asses to see if they have accomplished the toned butt that we have photo shopped onto the pamphlet as the "AFTER" result image. And we won't raise the price...this pencil will be an added bonus!
---Boardroom errupts in cheers as if they have cured cancer---
Oh, and FYI it isn't even sharpened. Probably did that for legal purposes because if you are stupid enough to purchase this product then I'd be willing to bet that you'd be stupid enough to shove a sharpened pencil near your ass!
Also, I went a step further and contacted the customer service number (because I honestly have nothing better to do at this hour) and asked if I could have a discount on my purchase because I already have my own pencil. The customer service rep seemed flabbergasted that I would even suggest such an absurd thing. Yeah, right...like I am the moron in this situation.
This person is trying to tell me that their pencil is made specifically for the purpose of checking your progress. Uh huh...so you mean to tell me that there is a corporation...somewhere...that is making pencils for the sole purpose of checking if you have a flabby ass? Dear God, please let Chris Hanson from Dateline do an expose on this!
I finally gave up on the pencil fight and hung up on the slightly hyperventilating customer service rep whose name was Tawny and who I imagine was a stripper at one time but who injured herself with a sharpened pencil and now has to do this thankless job.
Next on my list of ridiculous items is the Neck Slimmer. Granted you don't get a pencil with this little gem but at $19.99 it seems like a steal compared to the butt deal. The first observation on this product other than the overwhelming urge to scream out "are you FUCKING kidding me" is that you get the added bonus of looking like you're giving a BJ with no partner on the receiving end. Hell you could save yourself the money and do the real act and not only please your partner but alsoprobably hopefully get the same result of a toned neck. Plus my way offers the possibility of a full on sexual romp therfore allowing you to burn calories, killing two workouts with one effort.
You're Welcome Men of America!
Last on my list of items is the Shake Weight. Another reasonably priced piece of ridiculousness at $19.95. My immediate reaction to this commercial was how sexual it seems. Maybe it's my lack of intimate moments as of late but it just looked like one huge phallic free for all! It cemented in my mind why men should NOT be allowed to create any type of workout equipment to tone or improve the female physique, especially if it's gonna come out looking like a prop for a porno.
I don't know for sure that these items were created by a male or team of them but I have a pretty strong sneaking suspicion that there is at least one pair of nuts behind each of those items.
Well to each their own. While I may not get the drawl that these products hold I don't have time to think about it right now because I've gotta go use my Thigh Master and wait for my Perfect Brownie's to finish baking.
~JP
You looking to get rid of that turkey neck?
Wanna pump up your booty??
Thinking of new ways to sculpt and tone your upper arms and make sure that they aren't waving good-bye when you are trying to say "hello gorgeous"???
Well fear no more my wonderful friends. There are a gaggle of jacklegs just praying that you are asking these questions and many more about your appearance. And they have spent gads of time and money cooking up a slew of items praying on your susceptibility to idiotic products that are thrown on your television at 3 o'clock in the morning.
Sometimes it's the promise of "quick results", other times it's the lure of that $19.99 price tag but more so I believe it is the exhaustion of your capacity to process realistic thoughts. Yep, in the span of just 45 minutes during another one of my sleepless nights I saw not one, not two, but three asinine infomercials for products such as the Neck Slimmer, the Brazilian Butt Lift workout system and the Shake Weight.
After each one I had to think...what's the draw? Sadly, my thought process should have been "what's the catch" but seriously...I'm exhausted and the fact that I am actually able to string together two lucid thoughts is beyond triumphant for me. So I decided to do a little research...yep, that's me...
Well with the butt sculpter, if you call within the next 5 minutes you will get a....wait for it...make sure you're seated...a pencil. Yep. A whole pencil.
Really? REALLY a whole pencil?? Holy shit...let me drop what I am doing right this minute and make sure I get in on that little piece of gravity defying technology.
These people probably held a meeting to put together this deal and most likely went through a checklist of what would be in their "package".
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1: Umm, okay...so we've got the 3 DVD's, the fat burning food plan, the booty resistance band and a tape measure. It just feels like it's missing something don't you think?
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2: Gosh #1...I don't know. All that seems like a great deal for the $59.85 price point we are shooting for. How could we POSSIBLY make it better??
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1: I just feel like it needs something else (fidgets with the pencil in his hand and then makes a face as though he's had his very own Oprah "ah ha" moment) Do you think we should throw in a pencil?
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2: Wow...that is such a good question. But what would they use it for and would we need to increase the price?
Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1: They'd use the pencil to shove in the fat crease that is on their flabby asses to see if they have accomplished the toned butt that we have photo shopped onto the pamphlet as the "AFTER" result image. And we won't raise the price...this pencil will be an added bonus!
---Boardroom errupts in cheers as if they have cured cancer---
Oh, and FYI it isn't even sharpened. Probably did that for legal purposes because if you are stupid enough to purchase this product then I'd be willing to bet that you'd be stupid enough to shove a sharpened pencil near your ass!
Also, I went a step further and contacted the customer service number (because I honestly have nothing better to do at this hour) and asked if I could have a discount on my purchase because I already have my own pencil. The customer service rep seemed flabbergasted that I would even suggest such an absurd thing. Yeah, right...like I am the moron in this situation.
This person is trying to tell me that their pencil is made specifically for the purpose of checking your progress. Uh huh...so you mean to tell me that there is a corporation...somewhere...that is making pencils for the sole purpose of checking if you have a flabby ass? Dear God, please let Chris Hanson from Dateline do an expose on this!
I finally gave up on the pencil fight and hung up on the slightly hyperventilating customer service rep whose name was Tawny and who I imagine was a stripper at one time but who injured herself with a sharpened pencil and now has to do this thankless job.
Next on my list of ridiculous items is the Neck Slimmer. Granted you don't get a pencil with this little gem but at $19.99 it seems like a steal compared to the butt deal. The first observation on this product other than the overwhelming urge to scream out "are you FUCKING kidding me" is that you get the added bonus of looking like you're giving a BJ with no partner on the receiving end. Hell you could save yourself the money and do the real act and not only please your partner but also
You're Welcome Men of America!
Last on my list of items is the Shake Weight. Another reasonably priced piece of ridiculousness at $19.95. My immediate reaction to this commercial was how sexual it seems. Maybe it's my lack of intimate moments as of late but it just looked like one huge phallic free for all! It cemented in my mind why men should NOT be allowed to create any type of workout equipment to tone or improve the female physique, especially if it's gonna come out looking like a prop for a porno.
I don't know for sure that these items were created by a male or team of them but I have a pretty strong sneaking suspicion that there is at least one pair of nuts behind each of those items.
Well to each their own. While I may not get the drawl that these products hold I don't have time to think about it right now because I've gotta go use my Thigh Master and wait for my Perfect Brownie's to finish baking.
~JP
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Well that's just the crazy talking....
I really truly hate being sick. I think I spend so much time being sick that I've probably forgot how the hell it feels to live my life healthy. I've coughed and hacked. Slept and sweated. I've medicated and medicated and medicated some more and now I'm just plain pooped. My taste buds are shot and the only things that sound mildly appetizing to me on a continuous basis are freezy pops and saltine crackers. Both of which I have to fight Penny for. Damn dog. I swear she doesn't get the fact that she is, in fact...a dog...and NOT a person. I'm probably a lot to blame for that but seriously I have never met a dog that is more like a person than this one.
Today I managed to sleep my way through another 24 hour cycle of life but I woke with the most horrific panic. It was raining. It was dark and Jon was not here like he was supposed to be. I flipped. It was a rainy night almost 19 years ago that my family life was changed forever, so things like this get to me.
I have a spot on my chin that was a pimple that turned into a boo boo because I can't seem to stop picking and fidgeting with things and so I had to have it covered with a bandaid and neosporin in hopes of letting it heal. It had done a pretty good job of healing until today when I woke to find that Jon had not appeared at the time that he said he would. In 15 minutes I managed to mangle the newly healing flesh.
When Jon did appear and explained his tardiness the first thing he noticed is the area on my chin. He was not pleased and immediately questioned why I did it.
Jon: Jessica did you pick at your chin?
Me: Maybe.
Jon: Maybe as in yes?
Me: Ok...yes. But it's only because I get anxious.
Jon: We have got to find something else for you to do when you get anxious.
Me: I've tried but I always resort to picking at or fidgeting with something.
....and here is where Jon felt that he was having a pure stroke of genius....
Jon: Well maybe from now on when you are nervous you can just give me a hand job! Problem solved.
Me: I don't know...I get anxious a lot.
Jon: Sounds okay by me.
Me: Just one problem.
Jon: Yeah, what's that?
Me: Chaffing.
I'd like to say that this deterred him. Instead it sent him into a fit of laughter. Men!
~JP
Today I managed to sleep my way through another 24 hour cycle of life but I woke with the most horrific panic. It was raining. It was dark and Jon was not here like he was supposed to be. I flipped. It was a rainy night almost 19 years ago that my family life was changed forever, so things like this get to me.
I have a spot on my chin that was a pimple that turned into a boo boo because I can't seem to stop picking and fidgeting with things and so I had to have it covered with a bandaid and neosporin in hopes of letting it heal. It had done a pretty good job of healing until today when I woke to find that Jon had not appeared at the time that he said he would. In 15 minutes I managed to mangle the newly healing flesh.
When Jon did appear and explained his tardiness the first thing he noticed is the area on my chin. He was not pleased and immediately questioned why I did it.
Jon: Jessica did you pick at your chin?
Me: Maybe.
Jon: Maybe as in yes?
Me: Ok...yes. But it's only because I get anxious.
Jon: We have got to find something else for you to do when you get anxious.
Me: I've tried but I always resort to picking at or fidgeting with something.
....and here is where Jon felt that he was having a pure stroke of genius....
Jon: Well maybe from now on when you are nervous you can just give me a hand job! Problem solved.
Me: I don't know...I get anxious a lot.
Jon: Sounds okay by me.
Me: Just one problem.
Jon: Yeah, what's that?
Me: Chaffing.
I'd like to say that this deterred him. Instead it sent him into a fit of laughter. Men!
~JP
Saturday, January 9, 2010
This...that...and my mother
I had thought that I was on the upward swing of this bronchitis crap. Apparently life and my body decided to bitch slap me back to reality and I had the night from hell. I had gone to have a belated birthday celebration with one of my dear friends. It was all cheese fries, gallon of daquiri's (with 6 extra shots) and "The Hangover". Oh, yeah...I forgot to mention that we are both sick as fucking dogs. Yep, we are the two ra-tards that decided traipsing around in 20 degree weather without appropriate winter gear was a swell idea ALL in the name of fashion. We are both mother's too and that means we are influencing the youth of America. Be afraid...be very VERY afraid.
Anyways, in light of our being basically poor but still wanting to celebrate another birthday we decided to not infect the whole of the world by going out for dinner and drinks and instead just kept it casual and simple. As usual we had a blast but even while we were at the store buying supplies for the cheese fries I could tell that I wasn't feeling so good. Midway through the movie both of us were wiggling around and generally not in our usual perky moods. The movie ended and I scooted on home.
It was straight to bed for me. The days of being able to bounce back from illnesses, even ones that come with shots in the rear in order to get ya back in fighting form, are getting fewer and far between. I got into p.j.'s, medicated myself and attempted to sleep. That was NOT gonna be an easy task. I started to feel like I was drowning when I would lay flat. When I would prop myself up to get rid of the drowning sensation I would have an excruciating pain in my neck. I'd begin to feel really hot then freezing cold. After about 30 minutes of turning round and round in the bed I got up.
I contemplated watching television. But I was sooooo tired. I thought about getting on the computer and writing but the only thoughts that were filling my head were how much it hurt to breath and how flippin tired I was. For your sake, my readers, I chose to spare you from that torturous hell.
When I finally did fall asleep I had the most realistic dream about my mother.
She's been on my mind a lot lately. I don't get to see my parents nearly enough. I used to spend the days of my youth trying to figure out how to get as far as possible away from them. Now that I've grown up and I'm in the middle of one of the hardest moments of my life thus far, all I seem to do is think of her and how I wish she were here near me.
The recent news of her issues with diabetes and how she now has to be on insulin injections and is having diminished visions makes those feelings of wanting to be close to her so much stronger. The fact that my mother and I can, at times, be the exact same side of a coin. I don't know about you but me I used to tell myself, daily if not minute by minute "I refuse to be anything like my mother". It's not that she isn't a good person, because truth be told she is wonderful. Big heart. Kind and full of spirit. Funny as all hell and loves to find beauty in the most simple of things. She can bring any plant to life and people gravitate to her like she's a goddamn magnet.
I guess I am just the typical woman who has to deal with her mother issues. You always see things in your parents that you want to do the exact opposite of. I made those observations when I was like 5 and carried them with me to this day. Sadly most of the shit that I said that I wouldn't do...yep, you guessed it...I've gone right on and done it. Way to be original.
I'd love to say that I haven't made a few shrinks rich off of my mother issues, but why lie.
So last night or more truthfully this morning, in a cold medicine induced haze, I had a dream about my mother owning an antique shop. It was run out of the bottom floor of this gigantic craftsman style home that I've never seen before but now can't seem to stop thinking about.
It was an extremely bizarre dream filled with people from all throughout my life. There were customers that were my old classmates from high school and a delivery driver that was one of my old bosses. To say that it was crazy would have been the understatement of the year. And I know that we are only 9 days in thus far but still it was some weird stuff.
When I finally woke up today, at the sad hour of like 2p, it was to the sound of my mom calling me on the phone. Apparently her mothering beacon had homed in on the fact that her oldest child was sick and so she had to reach out and telephonically touch me. I talked for a few short minutes before I told her that I just wanted to go back to sleep and I've been going in and out of it since then.
It's not overly exciting but that's what is going on in the world of me.
~JP
Anyways, in light of our being basically poor but still wanting to celebrate another birthday we decided to not infect the whole of the world by going out for dinner and drinks and instead just kept it casual and simple. As usual we had a blast but even while we were at the store buying supplies for the cheese fries I could tell that I wasn't feeling so good. Midway through the movie both of us were wiggling around and generally not in our usual perky moods. The movie ended and I scooted on home.
It was straight to bed for me. The days of being able to bounce back from illnesses, even ones that come with shots in the rear in order to get ya back in fighting form, are getting fewer and far between. I got into p.j.'s, medicated myself and attempted to sleep. That was NOT gonna be an easy task. I started to feel like I was drowning when I would lay flat. When I would prop myself up to get rid of the drowning sensation I would have an excruciating pain in my neck. I'd begin to feel really hot then freezing cold. After about 30 minutes of turning round and round in the bed I got up.
I contemplated watching television. But I was sooooo tired. I thought about getting on the computer and writing but the only thoughts that were filling my head were how much it hurt to breath and how flippin tired I was. For your sake, my readers, I chose to spare you from that torturous hell.
When I finally did fall asleep I had the most realistic dream about my mother.
She's been on my mind a lot lately. I don't get to see my parents nearly enough. I used to spend the days of my youth trying to figure out how to get as far as possible away from them. Now that I've grown up and I'm in the middle of one of the hardest moments of my life thus far, all I seem to do is think of her and how I wish she were here near me.
The recent news of her issues with diabetes and how she now has to be on insulin injections and is having diminished visions makes those feelings of wanting to be close to her so much stronger. The fact that my mother and I can, at times, be the exact same side of a coin. I don't know about you but me I used to tell myself, daily if not minute by minute "I refuse to be anything like my mother". It's not that she isn't a good person, because truth be told she is wonderful. Big heart. Kind and full of spirit. Funny as all hell and loves to find beauty in the most simple of things. She can bring any plant to life and people gravitate to her like she's a goddamn magnet.
I guess I am just the typical woman who has to deal with her mother issues. You always see things in your parents that you want to do the exact opposite of. I made those observations when I was like 5 and carried them with me to this day. Sadly most of the shit that I said that I wouldn't do...yep, you guessed it...I've gone right on and done it. Way to be original.
I'd love to say that I haven't made a few shrinks rich off of my mother issues, but why lie.
So last night or more truthfully this morning, in a cold medicine induced haze, I had a dream about my mother owning an antique shop. It was run out of the bottom floor of this gigantic craftsman style home that I've never seen before but now can't seem to stop thinking about.
It was an extremely bizarre dream filled with people from all throughout my life. There were customers that were my old classmates from high school and a delivery driver that was one of my old bosses. To say that it was crazy would have been the understatement of the year. And I know that we are only 9 days in thus far but still it was some weird stuff.
When I finally woke up today, at the sad hour of like 2p, it was to the sound of my mom calling me on the phone. Apparently her mothering beacon had homed in on the fact that her oldest child was sick and so she had to reach out and telephonically touch me. I talked for a few short minutes before I told her that I just wanted to go back to sleep and I've been going in and out of it since then.
It's not overly exciting but that's what is going on in the world of me.
~JP
Friday, January 8, 2010
33 is looking a lot like 32 and 31 and 30....
I spent my 33rd birthday getting shot in the ass by a not so attractive, even if I was into female, nurse. My doctor exclaimed in semi physician humor that this was the "third...oh wait...2007, 2008, 2009...it is 2010 now...huh...well then scratch third and make that fourth year in a row I have seen you on or within days of your birthday?"
Thanks for the history lesson Rain Man...that was positively shocking.
So I started my day being pronounced as having bronchitis and in need of two...not one...two, because well it's my Birthday and apparently the universe hates me...and it probably isn't nice of a patient to look at their doctor as if they are speaking a foreign language when they are "attempting" doctor patient humor...so I got two shots in the rear. The trip wasn't all bad though. My good friend "Plus2" was kind enough to cart my sick ass to the doctors office because sadly I couldn't turn my neck. What is that you say? Did you think you may have read that wrong? Well, you didn't....by now....even if you have only been reading this blog since I started it on here and don't personally know me, you should know this one true and simple fact...IT IS PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO JUST GET A NORMAL FUCKING ILLNESS!
I'm pretty sure that I had H1N1 before it was actually given a name. Some people get a cold. Me I end up with pneumonia, but not just that I end up with a bacterial inflamation that spreads into the joints and muscles in my chest and then begins to attack my heart. Do you see how this works?
Yep, just a mere 9 hours into my new age and I had become arthritic and contagious. What a fucking gift?
But my friend...my Driving Mrs. Sick Ass companion...she made me laugh. Hell, she ALWAYS finds a way to make me laugh. She offered to get me ice cream since I was a "good patient" but seeing as it was barely 10am I figured ice cream would be hard to come by. Strangely enough if I had wanted an alcoholic beverage of some sort, like a daquiri per say, I could have gotten that...but ice cream? Yeah...that wasn't gonna be happening. I settled instead for a slushy (for my aching throat) and some breakfast so I could choke down the horse pill of an anti-biotic that he prescribed.
Oh yes...my day was gonna be pure joy...I could just feel it. I could feel it aching in my ass. Yep, right there stinging and burning like acid shot into my deriere is where I could feel it. Man, those shots, while they didn't hurt when she did them, happened to have a delayed release of pain that hit just as we were making our way out of the office and into the car. I just kept laughing and almost crying saying "God damn....my ass, my ass is killing me". Then I'd begin to hack because my throat was also in serious pain which would cause some hideous tickle which then led to fits of epileptic coughing.
I paint such a pretty picture.
After I was able to recompose myself from these fits I would fall into a contstant stream of saying I'm sorry over and over again as I mentally pictured her going home and lysoling the entire interior of her car and possibly giving herself a Silkwood scrub.
Friends will tell you to get better when you are sick. Good friends will call to check on you. Great friends will drive you to the doctors and help you get your medicine. Kick ass friends will do all of the above and smile at you while you hack what is sure to be some kind of bio hazard all over their vehicle.
This friend...she falls squarely in the latter.
I looked and sounded like death warmed over, but with the exception of when I had to breathe deeply, swallow, cough or attempt to move my neck I felt fantastic.
By the time we pulled back into my driveway I was exhausted from the escapade of the morning. I made my way in to the house, scooped up Penny and then realized what a retarded idea that was seeing as I was holding food and this dog is clearly a fiend of anything that doesn't have the words dog or kibble in it. It was like a Wimbledon match where I moved food from one hand to the other trying to keep it out of her line of snout grabbing. Her head would dart from left to right and back in a twisted attempt to get something. Anything. Finally when I was down to my last bite I tore off a piece of the toast and fed it to her. She scarfed it up and then looked at me like, "you bitch...that's ALL...that is ALL I get....oh yeah, yawn...go to sleep. I am so taking a dump on your head when you reach the REM state".
I mean that might not be a literal translation of what was going on in her little doggy mind but I think it's a pretty good rendering.
I'd like to say that I slept well but truth be told I just kept rolling around opening my eyes every so often to make sure she wasn't positioning her butt just right to take perfect aim. I mean I know I have been shit on in the past few years, but that was in emotional terms. This would really stink. And I meant that pun.
Thankfully she held her bowels. I think she can sense the cold weather coming and figures she can't be too sure that I won't stick her boney ass out in the cold as punishment for that infraction. She's shit on me in the past but I let it slide because she was sick or just come off her death bed. Just deciding to dump on me because I wouldn't share my tots....well that is grounds for emotional torture of the highest degree.
I'm hopeful that with my shots and goody bag full of medicine that I will be back to fighting form in time to go get my belated Birthday drank on with my girlfriends. I may have hit a hiccup as I turned the page from 32 to 33, but I'm not going to allow it to be a continuing trend.
Oh and hear me now, if by some cruel twist of fate I end up sick AGAIN next year, at...on...or around my birthday, ummmm, I'm not going to the doctors. No way. No how. The cycle stops here at 33.
~JP
P.S. And to ALL of my wonderful friends, readers and FB friends...thank you sooooo much for the Birthday love and well wishes. That was one thing that made this year significantly different than the last few.
P.P.S. To my "T" and my "D"...you are two of the three best friends that anyone could ever have...that anyone could ever have...that anyone could ever have."
Thanks for the history lesson Rain Man...that was positively shocking.
So I started my day being pronounced as having bronchitis and in need of two...not one...two, because well it's my Birthday and apparently the universe hates me...and it probably isn't nice of a patient to look at their doctor as if they are speaking a foreign language when they are "attempting" doctor patient humor...so I got two shots in the rear. The trip wasn't all bad though. My good friend "Plus2" was kind enough to cart my sick ass to the doctors office because sadly I couldn't turn my neck. What is that you say? Did you think you may have read that wrong? Well, you didn't....by now....even if you have only been reading this blog since I started it on here and don't personally know me, you should know this one true and simple fact...IT IS PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO JUST GET A NORMAL FUCKING ILLNESS!
I'm pretty sure that I had H1N1 before it was actually given a name. Some people get a cold. Me I end up with pneumonia, but not just that I end up with a bacterial inflamation that spreads into the joints and muscles in my chest and then begins to attack my heart. Do you see how this works?
Yep, just a mere 9 hours into my new age and I had become arthritic and contagious. What a fucking gift?
But my friend...my Driving Mrs. Sick Ass companion...she made me laugh. Hell, she ALWAYS finds a way to make me laugh. She offered to get me ice cream since I was a "good patient" but seeing as it was barely 10am I figured ice cream would be hard to come by. Strangely enough if I had wanted an alcoholic beverage of some sort, like a daquiri per say, I could have gotten that...but ice cream? Yeah...that wasn't gonna be happening. I settled instead for a slushy (for my aching throat) and some breakfast so I could choke down the horse pill of an anti-biotic that he prescribed.
Oh yes...my day was gonna be pure joy...I could just feel it. I could feel it aching in my ass. Yep, right there stinging and burning like acid shot into my deriere is where I could feel it. Man, those shots, while they didn't hurt when she did them, happened to have a delayed release of pain that hit just as we were making our way out of the office and into the car. I just kept laughing and almost crying saying "God damn....my ass, my ass is killing me". Then I'd begin to hack because my throat was also in serious pain which would cause some hideous tickle which then led to fits of epileptic coughing.
I paint such a pretty picture.
After I was able to recompose myself from these fits I would fall into a contstant stream of saying I'm sorry over and over again as I mentally pictured her going home and lysoling the entire interior of her car and possibly giving herself a Silkwood scrub.
Friends will tell you to get better when you are sick. Good friends will call to check on you. Great friends will drive you to the doctors and help you get your medicine. Kick ass friends will do all of the above and smile at you while you hack what is sure to be some kind of bio hazard all over their vehicle.
This friend...she falls squarely in the latter.
I looked and sounded like death warmed over, but with the exception of when I had to breathe deeply, swallow, cough or attempt to move my neck I felt fantastic.
By the time we pulled back into my driveway I was exhausted from the escapade of the morning. I made my way in to the house, scooped up Penny and then realized what a retarded idea that was seeing as I was holding food and this dog is clearly a fiend of anything that doesn't have the words dog or kibble in it. It was like a Wimbledon match where I moved food from one hand to the other trying to keep it out of her line of snout grabbing. Her head would dart from left to right and back in a twisted attempt to get something. Anything. Finally when I was down to my last bite I tore off a piece of the toast and fed it to her. She scarfed it up and then looked at me like, "you bitch...that's ALL...that is ALL I get....oh yeah, yawn...go to sleep. I am so taking a dump on your head when you reach the REM state".
I mean that might not be a literal translation of what was going on in her little doggy mind but I think it's a pretty good rendering.
I'd like to say that I slept well but truth be told I just kept rolling around opening my eyes every so often to make sure she wasn't positioning her butt just right to take perfect aim. I mean I know I have been shit on in the past few years, but that was in emotional terms. This would really stink. And I meant that pun.
Thankfully she held her bowels. I think she can sense the cold weather coming and figures she can't be too sure that I won't stick her boney ass out in the cold as punishment for that infraction. She's shit on me in the past but I let it slide because she was sick or just come off her death bed. Just deciding to dump on me because I wouldn't share my tots....well that is grounds for emotional torture of the highest degree.
I'm hopeful that with my shots and goody bag full of medicine that I will be back to fighting form in time to go get my belated Birthday drank on with my girlfriends. I may have hit a hiccup as I turned the page from 32 to 33, but I'm not going to allow it to be a continuing trend.
Oh and hear me now, if by some cruel twist of fate I end up sick AGAIN next year, at...on...or around my birthday, ummmm, I'm not going to the doctors. No way. No how. The cycle stops here at 33.
~JP
P.S. And to ALL of my wonderful friends, readers and FB friends...thank you sooooo much for the Birthday love and well wishes. That was one thing that made this year significantly different than the last few.
P.P.S. To my "T" and my "D"...you are two of the three best friends that anyone could ever have...that anyone could ever have...that anyone could ever have."
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