Wednesday, May 07, 2008
The Wolf Inside Us
Native Americans have a story of a grandfather walking with his grandson. The boy asks the old man why there is hatred, evil, violence and broken promises in the world.
The grandfather replies. “The answer is within. Deep inside each of us is a fight between two wolves. One is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. This fight between the two wolves is going on inside of you and inside of everybody.”
The grandson thinks for a moment and then asks his grandfather “Which wolf will win?”
The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one that you feed.”
A Beautiful Blind
When it comes to window treatments, I really like the look of the sheer white curtain because of the way the sunlight spills in, slightly muted and because of how cozy the place looks at night time from the outside. Unfortunately, the problem is exactly at night time from the outside. Those romantic, white sheer curtains also allow anyone and everyone to take a good long look inside your home from the sidewalk. They can see you but you can’t see them. I do not like that idea at all. So I never get the white sheer curtains.
What I think are the best window coverings after that are blinds and shades. Especially bamboo shades. Oy man do I love the look of bamboo shades. They are simple, neat, elegant, cooling, and go with anything. Someday, I will have my place outfitted with these on every window in the place.
Unless, of course, I come in to a lot of money. Then I will cover half my windows with bamboo shades and the other half with roman shades because, wow! These are pretty, pretty, pretty!
You would be amazed at how something as simple as changing your window covering can completely transform a place. If you’ve been thinking of an update to your house, get a bucket of paint and order some new window treatments. It’s inexpensive and the difference can be like night and day.
A Tale Of Roommates
(This post inspired by previous thoughts of roommates and by a blog pointed out to me by a reader which has now ceased to be updated.)
I no longer have roommates. In fact, until/unless I ever get married, I will never have a roommate again. The countless horrifying incidents I’ve endured have assured me that I’m making the correct decision. I could write a book about them all but I’m going to start with a list of things they have done. I’ll start with “Mary”. (Not her real name.)
1) “Mary” was so lazy and filthy that you could not, literally, see her floor. When you opened her door, you were greeted by a foul stench and as your eyes panned around, all you could see was what looked like the remains of a GoodWill truck throwing up all over her room. If you attempted to walk around in her room, you were doing so at your own risk as again, you could not see the floor and God only knows what you may step in or on causing you to twist your ankle, get a disease or infection.
2) Mary also liked to horde my dishes in her room until they were crusty and molded and then bring them out to the kitchen when it was my turn to wash the dishes.
3) Mary would take my one good cutting knife and keep it under her pillow, “just in case” an intruder broke in to the house. It didn’t matter to her that there was a large dog residing there that barked at people who dared walk by the house on the other side of the street, no, it’s much better to take the one knife in the house used to cut up vegetables and meats and stuff it under her skank ass pillow in her skank ass room. And it didn’t matter how many fucking times I asked her not to do this, she would take it from the kitchen again after I had rescued it once more from the bowels of her shit hole, washed it, sterilized it, used it, cleaned it again and put it back in the fucking utensil drawer for future cuttings.
4) Mary would take long, long, long bubble baths. I’m talking hours. I’m talking, so damn long that you would find yourself having to use the facilities at some point during this and were subject to the “I have to go now before I explode” dance while pounding on the bathroom door, begging for her to show some mercy. It didn’t matter if you went before she started her bath, (which I finally convinced her to start doing; asking me if I needed to use it first), because she was in there so damn long, the need would arise again. Do you have any idea what it’s like to run around your backyard looking for proper concealment?
5) Mary ate garlic. A lot. She ate so much garlic that her breath would still reek of it two days later. Of course she always felt the need to talk to me about her friends at some point after eating the garlic and an entire pack of gum did not help the situation. I stopped trying to conceal my gagging and started flat out telling her that I could not be in the same room with her and talk to her because I was going to puke if she kept breathing.
6) Mary did not understand the concept of covering food in the refrigerator nor cleaning out said food when it had been in there for three or more weeks. I lost weight while living with her because countless times I would come home, starving, fling open the fridge and be met not only with the sight of mold growing in there but the smell...oh God the smell! It killed my appetite every single time.
7) Mary liked to screw a lot, too. And her boy toy of the night never properly disposed of the condoms so one day, I walk into the backyard and find the dog puking up a used, dirty condom. Not only was this the height of disgusting, I got the pleasure of pointing it out to her to clean up lest the neighbors ever thought I was the pig. I also prayed and prayed that the dog wouldn’t get sick because I really didn’t want to go to the vet and explain what happened.
8) Mary set the stove on fire one night. It wasn’t entirely her fault, I’ll get to that roommate some other day, but Mary, instead of grabbing the fire extinguisher and putting it out herself, ran up to my room to tell me what happened and made me put it out. Does Mary not understand how fast fire can spread? We had to open all the doors and windows and get us and the pets outside while the house cleared of smoke.
9) Because we worked in the same place and I had a car, Mary just naturally assumed that meant I was her chauffer. First it was just going to work. Then it was to the store. Then it grew to other requests. She never offered to pay any money for gas or parking and never once said “Thank You”. When I told her she needed to start helping out or taking the bus, she threw a fit. Because I held the keys, she relented but it didn’t stop her from complaining to everyone we knew what a rude bitch I was, apparently.
10) Mary killed the VCR. I don’t know how she did it. She claims she barely touched it and the next thing she knew, it was broken. Of course she never offered to pay for a new one or even pay for half. It was my fault, you see, because I never taught her how to use a VCR. It didn’t matter that the instruction booklet was placed neatly underneath it as I do with all my electronic equipment, it’s my fault I didn’t shove the book in her face and force her at gun point to learn it.
There are other things about Mary that irritated me, the crying, the excessive drinking, breaking into the house at 3am because she forgot her keys and scaring the living shit out of me and my dog, the thermostat turned up so high it would make satan sweat, etc. but most of it’s just because I grew to despise her after awhile. However, believe it or not, she was the best roommate I ever had.
Insured Health
One of the biggest topics these days is health insurance...more to the point, affordable health insurance. Millions of Americans are currently without health insurance because they either are unemployed, can’t afford it or don’t know where to get it. Small businesses, who want to provide some sort of available coverage for their employees also need options that is affordable for everyone.
Kaiser Permanente Health Insurance can provide insurance for individuals and their families as well as group insurance. For example, group health insurance California offers small business owners many choices. They can choose from a co-payment plan, deductible plan, HRA, PPO and even Point of Service plan. The company will provide plans and services as well as prices based on the size of the company and if its regional or located in one area that Kaiser Permanente covers. These plans are extremely affordable and the coverage is ideal.
For those who don’t have insurance and want to cover themselves and their families but do not have a job or do not like the plan offered through the job can also benefit from the coverages offered by Kaiser Permanente. Instant quotes to find the rate, online applications and benefits such as having access to health and drug encyclopedias are all available at the website. Further, once a member, routine appointments, pharmacy contacts and prescription refills are all accessible online. Currently Kaiser Permanente services California, Oregon, Washington state and DC, Hawaii, Idaho, Colorado, Ohio, Virginia, Maryland and Georgia which means millions who may not currently have coverage can have affordable health insurance.
It really is a good idea to have coverage. Don’t ever think that nothing will happen to you. Something as simple as a poisonous bug bite can cost over a grand without health insurance, surgery for broken ankles can cost almost $10,000 (trust me, this I know), without health insurance...the point is, anything can happen at any time. Without health insurance, the costs of medical care can be astronomical and it has been known to destroy financial lives.
If you live in one of the areas Kaiser Permanente covers and you do not currently have any health insurance, please go to the website. It’s extremely easy to use, easy to understand, offers several choices based on your needs and even provides valuable information about health and health related issues that you may not have known.
Things I Hate
I actually have a category titled, “Why I Hate People” so do not be surprised if I embellish on some of these in the future.
I hate roommates who use my things and then, when I ask them to care for them according to my wishes, call me a dictator. If I say don’t put my pots and pans in the dishwasher, you stupid bint, don’t do it or go buy your own. This is not a socialist household. I do not work hard and buy things for you to use as you wish and, after you have destroyed them, have the cojones to tell me I need to replace them!
I hate guys who express their feelings for you yet after you tell them, tactfully, that they don’t have a chance in hell, they still check you over from chest to crotch and never once look you in the eyes while carrying on a conversation. I hate you more than anything in this world and wish you would fucking die you greasy pig ass creep! Don’t even think about me!
I hate neighbors who get pissy with you, come up to your door and demand you be quiet when you are putting together the last part of a bookshelf at 9pm, despite the fact that you have listened to their little kids running up and down the stairs, inside and out, screaming at the top of their lungs, slamming the doors and causing mayhem until well after midnight three nights out of the week. And if that wasn’t bad enough, decide two weeks later that they need to remodel their kitchen and pound on the walls until 11pm. Nine pm is not too late and is not yet “quiet hours” according to the police, strike one. Your hypocrisy is bleeding all over the building, strike two. If you’re going to confront me, speak my fucking language because this is America, English is the national language and you have no right to get huffy, look at me with disgust and storm off because I don’t speak yours, strike three.
I hate it when you are looking for a job and the places you send out resumes and cover letters to don’t even have the fucking decency to let you know that they have received your information.
I also hate it when you answer their ad in the paper they just put up not one hour before and they tell you the position is already filled. How? How is it that when you post a job on Craiglist at 6pm on a Friday evening, I apply at 7pm, you come back and tell me the job is filled. You didn’t have time to call anyone up, have them come in for an interview and hire them in that hour. If I don’t meet your requirements, tell me but do not insult my intelligence by claiming the position is already filled you nutsack.
While I’m on this kick, if you tell me “no experience required” then don’t turn around and tell me I don’t have enough experience.
Finally, during an interview, don’t ask me why I want to work there. Because I need a job, asswipe. Why the hell else do you think I’m applying? You know my answer is bullshit just like everyone else you interviewed so why even bother with that question?
I hate the selfish assholes at the laundromat who use 5 washers, leave, despite the sign that says, “Do Not Leave Clothes Unattended”, come back an hour and a half later, after they did their shopping, and act surprised that there is a line up of people waiting for them to get their damn clothes out so that we can use the washers now. Thank you. Thank you for making an already annoying experience even worse by lasting three hours longer than it needed to last. I hope you got bleach residue on your clothes, bitch.
I hate it when friends ask me how something looks on them, give them my honest opinion they beg. I do and then they get upset with me. Look, from now on, go look in a full length mirror. I’m done. If you look in the mirror and think you look fine then let’s just leave it at that. Don’t ask me for my “honest opinion” if you can’t handle the answer.
On the other hand, if we are out, kickin’ it and you see that I have something on my face, be a friend for crying out loud and tell me so that I can get it off! It’s such a treat knowing I’ve been walking around with a smudge on my cheek for the past three hours because you were too worried about “hurting my feelings” if you did tell me. No, what hurts is that you let me look like an asshole all night long. Thanks. Paybacks are a bitch.
I hate it when a roommate has all her friends over, they get shit faced and then go out but don’t bother to ask me to come along. But OH, I’m sure good enough when the roommate comes back, needs to puke and wants me there to hold her hair back for her along with some coaching. Hell with you. Next time? I hope you get chunks in your hair and don’t realize it so that they spread all over your bedding after you stumble your way back into your room and pass out. Enjoy cleaning up the next day, hung over while I, completely sober, watch all of this with some enjoyment.
I am not a psychic. Pardon the fuck out of me for not going the instant the light turned green.
We’re in the store. You have kids. Your kids, with snot running down their faces are running wildly all over the store, crashing into people, screaming. We, the rest of the patrons, do not think it’s cute. I will not smile back at you after your kid jams the grocery cart into my ankle in the check out line. You have no right to get in my face telling me how I need to relax and understand these are children. My problem isn’t with your children you hippy bitch. My problem is with you not teaching your children that this behavior in public is not acceptable and that when they run into someone causing them to lose skin, they need to apologize and calm the fuck down!
If you weigh 250 pounds, do not, under any circumstances, try to give me dieting advice when I tell you that “no thank you, I do not want a donut” because I’m trying to live a healthier lifestyle. The day your rolls of blubber no longer spill over the tops of your jeans, which are screaming in protest at how much you’ve asked them to hold, is the day you can start doling out tips. Until then, shut up.
If we are not to discuss our bonuses, don’t come running up to me the day we get our checks and ask me what mine was. You twit, like I’m going to jeapordize any future bonuses after you find out I got more than you and ran off to complain to the boss. There’s a reason mine is higher...I do more work than you while you spent the last three months making all kinds of excuses as to why you couldn’t show up for work or do your work when you were there. HAHAHA! That’s what you get for putting it all off on me requiring me to spend 4 out of 5 days in overtime each week. Feel the sting!
I hate it when people tell me smoking is bad for my health as if I were completely unware of this. “WHAT!?!?! It IS! Why the hell didn’t anyone share this with me before!?” I know it is you fools. It’s the one vice I have. Let me have it and deal with it on my own terms. I will quit when I’m ready to quit. And when I do quit, don’t dance around me like it was your idea. I will do it for ME, not you. And if I try and fail, you really don’t need to be preaching to me. The last thing you need to be doing is preaching to someone who is trying to deplete the nicotine from their lives. How stupid are you? You may as well play with a loaded gun for as safe as that is.
I hate that I even have a hate list. And I hate the fact that it’s much longer than this but that’s all you get for today.
OH, and the thing I hate the most? When I’m venting, which is healthy because I’m not bottling it all up inside causing me to climb a water tower one day and go ape shit, is when some asstard comes along and says, “Calm down”. Especially when they don’t realize that when I vent, I’m doing it with a touch of humor, as in, I’m laughing at the ridiculousness, the absurdities. So, please, don’t make me cut you.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Smile And Let Me Examine Your Past And Health
Today I went to the dentist.
::blood curdling screams::
I know! This is a big thing because I hate going to the dentist. In fact, it has been proven that 9-15% of Americans are so afraid of the dentist that they will not go. I’m one of them. Even though I’m terrified of losing all of my teeth and sporting dentures, I’m petrified of the dentist. So petrified that I haven’t been in 8 years. I keep my mouth really clean and brush every day like a good little patient so it’s not like my teeth are gross or anything. Or so I thought.
However, we all need a dentist and some of us need more work than others. And that means everyone. Athletes, news anchors, starlets, anyone. In fact, many people in California can head on down to Roxbury Drive and get themselves some Beverly Hills cosmetic dentistry performed by Dr. Maddahi.
Dentists have made a lot of improvements in 8 years and especially since I was a kid when my fear of the dentist began to fester and grow.
See, I hate sitting in that chair, helpless, while they scrape your teeth with an iron hook and shove a drill down to the nerve endings in your gums. It feels like they are pulling your teeth straight out of your face and sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it hurts a lot. A LOT! Also, every time I go it seems that something more needs to be done. I can never get a simple cleaning. No, that would be far too easy. I let the dentist know this when I made the appointment and they were prepared for an extremely nervous patient. The hygienist assured me all would be well and told me not to worry.
I arrived early, filled out the paperwork and then found myself being led to the chair of doom. She proceeded to stick plastic and film inside my mouth to take x-rays. Then she took an overall x-ray, panning my entire mouth while I stood at a machine and stared into a mirror at myself biting on a plastic pipe. Why do they have that mirror there? As if I weren’t uncomfortable enough now I gotta stare at myself looking like a dork? In other areas of the country, dentists have even more advanced technology. You can find dentists who use small cameras to pan around your mouth while you sit in the chair so that the dentist can point out problems to you as he/she pans. This is far easier to understand than an x-ray.
Anyway, after the ‘Filming Of The Teeth’, we went back to the cleaning room, (the, “Oh we are so ripping all of your teeth out because you don’t floss and there’s nothing you can do about it! You can’t escape. Muhaahhahahahaha ha ha!” room), and she had me swish fluoride around in my mouth. Following the fluoride rinse I was given a baking soda, water cleaning and then she numbed up my gums with some sort of gel. Then came the dreaded iron hook. I knew it! They want to kill me!
The hygienist, sensing my growing panic, tried to soothe me by informing me of what she would be doing, how the tool worked and showed me what it was all about by doing it to one tooth first. It appears the iron hook has been altered over the years. Some dentists use what is called a “water lase”. Far, far better than that horrifying iron hook. The tool sprays your mouth like a pressure washer, dislodging plaque which gets sucked into the spit vacuum dangling out of your mouth. This dentist didn’t use a drill because of this tool and while the iron hook is still used as it is attached to this pressure washer type thing, I felt very little pain. Some dentists, like Dr. Maddahi and my dentists use an air drill after that. Trust me, kids, an air drill is far, far better than the old fashioned drill. It’s air and I’m telling you, from a big baby, there is. next to no. pain. Really the only place I felt any pain was when she was cleaning my top front teeth, (because the gums are more sensitive there), so she glopped more of the numbing gel on and I barely felt a thing.
I was horrified at the amount of plaque that had built up. No other dentist I’ve ever been to has shown me just how much plaque they have removed. Today I got to see. The spit vacuum head was like a spiral so the plaque stuck to it and when she pulled the first one out of my mouth, she showed it to me. I had no idea what the gunk was until she told me that that was what she was cleaning off of my teeth! My reaction was only...."!!!"
I was so stunned after that, so disgusted with myself, in such shock that I could have so much plaque. I brush all the time! I use Listerene! What is going one here? By the time she finished cleaning I was on my third spit vacuum!
She finished up and gave me a goodies bag of toothpaste for sensitive teeth, two toothbrushes, some picks and showed me how to even better brush my teeth. See part of the problem is that I have a hard time reaching my back teeth because the toothpaste makes me gag. Really bad. So bad in fact that some mornings I simply cannot finish brushing my teeth because I’m too busy gagging and dry heaving. I was told to combat that I should dry brush my gums first and then brush my teeth with toothpaste. Aah! Ok! My other problem is that on the teeth I can reach, I brush way too hard and have even managed to destroy some of my own gums. Right now I have a pretty, white filling where I’ve done that but in the future, I will probably have to have some sort of cosmetic surgery.
After that, the hygienist handed me a mirror to check out my teeth and they were pretty. Of course because I had not gone to the dentist in 8 years, some of the plaque had pushed my teeth a little bit so that and age caused me to have small gaps in the bottom front teeth where I never had any before. Now she says it’s hardly noticeable but to me they may as well be as wide as the Grand Canyon so I’m a little self conscious now. But at least they’re clean.
Of course, as always, I could not just have a simple cleaning and be done with it. No! Murphy rears his ugly head. It’s my own fault for not going to the dentist in 8 years so they want me to come back in a month to finish up any cleaning they might have to do. Need the gums to settle down before they can see if more needs to be done. Also? The dentist himself wants to take another look at one of my wisdom teeth that I have been putting off getting looked at. It’s only caused me pain two times in the past year so I’ve used that as my excuse not to go but the dentist wants to look again in a month to see if it needs to be yanked.
Lovely.
I also have to get fitted for a nightguard, (Friday), since my other one disappeared. Getting a nightguard is no big deal though except for how expensive it is. Unfortunately I have to have one and despite the fact that someone threw my other nightguard away, they never offered to replace it so I get to pay for a new one. It’s now about $200 more than my old one.
Double lovely.
This is turning out to be very expensive because insurance companies only cover so much and they refuse to cover nightguards. It’s worth it though because it prevents me from grinding my teeth down which would cause me to have to get crowns one day.
Anyway I did it. I faced my fear of the dentist. I made the appointment, didn’t cancel it, (despite how so very tempting it was to do so), and I pulled through. I’m so proud of myself. And you know what? If you can find a dentist who uses a dental laser and waterlase, air drill and all other types of services and who help you understand that technology has advanced, walk you through the health of your mouth, instead of shots and a drill, you’re going to discover that the dentist isn’t so bad after all. So if you’re scared, find one of those and don’t put it off. Trust me, I’m the biggest wuss when it comes to the dentist and I assure you, it’s not that bad anymore.
In fact, I was so relieved that I gave the hygienist a hug when it was all over.
Kids, seriously. Dental hygiene is extremely important and people are judged by their teeth. If you have yellow teeth from coffee or smoking, plaque built up everywhere, bleeding gums, black spots at the roots, jagged teeth, broken teeth, etc, you will be judged. Our smile, our mouth, is one of the first things people see and not only for that reason but also for health reasons, we must take care of our teeth.
Sometimes we are not born with a great set of choppers and we need to get things fixed. Whether it be basic cleaning, fillings, veneers, bridges, crowns, whitening, what have you, it’s extremely important for our own self image as well as our future.
Oy My Head!
I’m so stupid. Stupid! Sometimes I can’t believe the stupid things I do. Take today for instance. Ok, first, back track:
I do not drink coffee. I do not like the taste. I love the smell but the taste, no matter what shade or brand or flavor, is all bitter to me. I can add sugar but I have to add so much sugar I may as well just eat the sugar and leave the coffee behind. Got that? I hate coffee. I do not drink it.
Back to present day:
So, my brilliant move today was to drink some coffee. That may not seem like such a big deal but this was not normal coffee. See, we are in training this week and next and sometimes it is really hard to stay awake in class especially when the trainer turns the lights off so that we may better see the Windows display on the wall. I, as well as many other classmates, have had to fight off sleep many a time but today was bad for all of us.
Therefore, at about 2:30pm today one of the ladies went to the break room and came back with some coffee and was handing it out in little tiny cups, like those cups you get for ketchup at a fast food joint if you eat in the restaurant, to everyone on our side of the room. As I was losing my battle and about to find myself smacking my face on the desk as I crashed to sleep, I decided to take one. Even though I don’t drink coffee, I thought, idiotically, “Well, it’s just a small amount, it shouldn’t hurt.”
The problem? The way this lady made the coffee made it really good. It was so good that I decided perhaps I could become addicted to coffee afterall. Yes, that good. So on next break I asked how to make it, (you see, I don’t drink coffee...did you miss that part? So why would I know how to make it?), she showed me and I filled up a styrofoam cup of the stuff and walked back to the class room.
Apparently the little tiny ketchup cups did not register with me as to how foolish this action might be. I drank about half of it before anyone decided to clue me the hell in.
I was then told that I was drinking CUBAN coffee. I casually sipped more from the cup as I inquired what was so special about Cuban coffee. Sip, sip. Blink innocently. What? What’s so funny guys? Um...guys? Why are you laughing? Sip, sip.
I was then informed.
Ever wonder why Cuban coffee is served in such small cups? Ever wonder why you don’t see anyone walking around with a 32 oz mug of Cuban coffee? It’s like getting a caffiene IV and even experienced coffee drinkers know better than to gulp down more than an ounce or so of this stuff at a time. And it’s fivehundredthousand times worse for someone who NEVER DRINKS FUCKING COFFEE or caffiene at all for that matter.
So my fellow class mates were having a blast talking about how wired I was going to be so very, very soon; laughing at my coffee naivety. You see, I drank about 10 oz of this stuff before anyone informed me of what I was doing.
Well I’m not hyper, I’m not wired, I’m not anything except in serious pain. Pain. Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain.
I could have every inch of my skin grated off with a cheese slicer and feel less pain.
I could pour lemon juice straight into a thousand paper cuts all over me and feel less pain.
I could allow someone to swing a sledgehammer square in the middle of my face and feel less pain.
I could have all my fingernails ripped out, one by one and feel less pain.
My head hurts so. fucking. bad right now. If I could take it off and put it in the freezer for approximately 7 hours, I just might start to feel a wee bit better.
Where’s Dr. Kevorkian? I really need him to be here right now. And if you ever catch me thinking or suggesting that drinking a 10 ounce cup of Cuban coffee is a fantastic idea ever again, feel free to shoot me, that is, if my head doesn’t implode before the night is over. Why I’m allowed out of the house in the morning without adult supervision I’ll never know.
Fresh and Comfy
Do you know what is one of the best feelings in the world? Laying around in pajamas and wearing a brand new pair of socks. Something about these articles of clothing can bring me peace, comfort and a feeling that all will be right in this world.
Seriously.
Nonetheless, sometimes one has to get up, go out in to the world and look appropriate. I’ve never been a pantyhose kind of girl. I find them restricting, boring, annoying and I’ve always associated them with older women. I choose to wear Tights when I do dress up because I think they look better, are very comfortable and you have a lot more options to express yourself.
A website I have found that offers not only my pajamas, socks and tights but hand bags, eye wear and intimate apparel is Hue.com. They have a nice variety of all of the above mentioned clothing items, really, pages upon pages of merchandise, the price, surprisingly, is inexpensive and, because it’s their 30th birthday, there are sales going on. In most cases, you pay only $5 shipping on each order, (And, truthfully, isn’t that where things get expensive, in the shipping?), some items have free shipping.
If you’re a girl, or you have a wife, girlfriend, daughter or sister, and you understand that these “little” things, these pieces of clothing that can, truthfully, instantly relax you after a hard day, decide that you do indeed deserve a little treat, (or the girl in your life deserves a treat), and check out what they have to offer.
There really is something there for every girl no matter what her tastes, no matter what her age, no matter what her style.
Now, excuse me, I have some shopping to do.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Listen Up, Kids
As I said in an earlier entry, there is going to be waaaaaaaaaaaay more blogging going on around here. I know a lot of you read only the top entry on the site and move on, thinking there is nothing more to read after that. That is going to be changing. If you enjoy anything you read on this site, (which, you must considering you keep coming back here), don’t just stop after the top entry or you’re going to be missing out on a lot.
And if you’re reading via RSS, you’re really missing out. RSS is so....sterile, anyway. You miss out on a lot. I understand some of the reasons people use it but I’ve never liked it because it doesn’t seem as personal that way. If RSS is what you prefer, I’m not going to give you a hard time about it, just know that you won’t see everything.
Anyway, enough for today. I’m tired. More to come tomorrow.
As for some of the new visitors...I understand some of you are in some sort of blog reading competition with each other....hopefully you found something here you liked and come back. If not, well, nice to have met you.
Ciao kids.
New Hope
The weight loss industry is a multi-billion dollar industry but most of the products and/or solutions do not work. Personally, I’ve had my share of “fat days” and I’ve tried a few products and trends and luckily I have found what works for me. Some people; however, have a harder time losing weight and keeping it off.
Those people tend to go for more drastic measures such as liposuction or gastric bypass surgery and while these can work, they can also be very limiting, unhealthy and dangerous.
Another option is to try what is called lap band surgery. Basically, the LAP-Band System Weight Loss Procedure is an adjustable band surgically implanted that wraps around the upper part of your stomach causing you to feel fuller, faster so that you eat less. Less caloric intake equals weight loss.
Some of the reasons over 300,000 people have opted for this procedure is because it is the least invasive weight loss surgery, there’s less scarring, it’s totally reversible, less nutritional deficiencies, you’ll experience a gradual, more natural weight loss, (something your body takes to much better than a drastic reduction) and it can even accommodate those who are or become pregnant.
There are no limitations to what a person can eat while they have the Lap Band and since the weight loss is gradual, (about 2-3 pounds per week for the first year), when the Lap Band is removed, the individual has learned how to eat correctly, meaning, to know when they are full and should stop. Most diets do not work because most diets require a person to give up several different types of foods instead of teaching them how to eat anything in moderation and to learn to listen to their bodies.
If you are overweight, qualify, (use the BMI calculator on the site to start), and have tried everything else under the sun only to be disappointed time and again, go to the site, check out the success stories, the common questions and the plethora of information regarding the Lap Band System Weight Loss procedure. This could very well be the answer to a slimmer, healthier you in the future.
Finally, you’ll find that it won’t hurt your pocket book so much as this procedure is rather inexpensive compared to others. Facilities are located in Los Angeles, Kansas City and Charlotte, NC.
Survey Says...
I’m a babe.
At least that was the popular consensus of liquor store clerks tonight. While I do clean up rather well, I am still recovering from my near death illness and hacking up a lung while the sickness drains out of me. In fact, I treated that clerk to a beautiful rendition of, “I’m Coughing Into My Hand In An Effort To Display Manners Even Though In About 10 Seconds I’ll Be Presenting Money To You With That Same Body Part Now Splattered With Disease”.
I had on no make up, there was a shine on my face that came from spending the last two days in a knit hat/scarf/sweater/sweats cocoon underneath my bed covers as I made a feeble attempt to sweat the sickeness out of my system. My hair was flat and my breath considerably less than minty fresh.
In other words, I looked like death that had been microwaved for approximately 30 seconds. I walked up to the counter, placed my purchases upon it and the very first thing the clerk says is:
“Awww! You’re beautiful!”
Sincere? Sure sounded that way.
Just a line? Just flirting? Trying to hit on me? Does he say this to all the girls? Maybe I looked so pathetic that he felt sorry for me. Maybe he enjoys his job a little too much and had hit the bottle between customers.
Who knows and who cares. What I do know is that he made my night with that one little compliment. In fact, that silly little compliment made me feel like a super model the whole walk home. That is, until I tripped over the bathroom rug on the way to admire myself in the mirror.
The Lessons We Learn
These days, more and more people are facing the reality of “living beyond their means”. If you cannot afford something, if it’s beyond what you can keep making payments on, then you should consider something smaller, less or wait a little bit.
Most people understand the basic concept of “living beyond your means” but I think a lot of people don’t understand it fully. I learned this lesson the hard way a decade ago. I was in a pretty bad car accident and my credit was destroyed. Was I living beyond my means? I didn’t think I was. The money I was making absolutely covered my bills each month.
However, “living beyond your means” also means that if you don’t have something saved up, just in case something dreadful happens, then you are still living beyond your means. While I had the money to pay my debts and creditors each month, I did not have the savings to continue to pay in case I had no income or loss of income for a period of time.
I, too, lived beyond my means although I didn’t understand it. The car accident was not my fault. The arbitration and settlement took three years. My living came from driving my car. How do I continue to bring income, pay all bills including rent if I don’t have a car for over a month while it’s being repaired? These are questions I did not ask myself. For a long time I suffered the ramifications of not thinking of those possibilities.
Once your credit has been tarnished, it’s next to impossible to get a loan or a credit card. Many lenders need to protect themselves and are unwilling to offer you a second chance. However, fortunately some lenders will give you that second opportunity to help you rebuild your credit for the future.
Applying for bad credit loans and bad credit credit cards may mean you pay a higher percentage rate but that is the price sometimes you have to pay to rebuild and continue towards your future dreams. It’s not always easy but at least there are places that make it possible. Eventually your score begins to increase and your percentage rates will go down if you learn from mistakes.
It’s a long, hard road but credit, good credit, IS important to have. You never know when you need it.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Argh!
Any techies out there?
Here’s the issue: I cannot get my images to show up on any of my archived pages. Now, at first, I didn’t mind because it would cut down on the idiots who steal your images off the internet but now, I kind of need one particular image to show up in my sidebar in the archives or little Serenity doesn’t get any kitty chow. You wouldn’t let a cute, little white cat starve now would you?
You may be asking, “Have you tried the support forums at the site who hosts your or you use for your publishing tool?” And that would be a great question. The answer is, “Why, yes! I have tried.” Here’s the problem: I can’t remember the stupid password and I can’t just have them email it to me because my email has changed since I bought all this stuff and you can only post in the help forum if you sign in using your original user name and password, (can’t just re-register), and there is no freaking way, it would appear, to contact any single fricken person at this company outside of the support forums and I really need to just figure out what the hell with my archives and the images already because I don’t have a lot of time to go chasing down people who do not want to be disturbed unless I have my original information....
So, seriously, any techies out there?
The little cat is getting hungry.
Update Problem solved. Thank you, Russ. As I said in email to you, sometimes, when one is retarded, such as I am, one needs someone else to point out the very simple solution....such as putting the code on the wrong fricken page. Excuse me, kids. I need to go “duh” myself silly right now.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Understand This
“Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
You have the right to life. You have the right to liberty. And you have the right to the pursuit of happiness. You are not entitled to happiness. You have the right to pursue it. That means you get up off your lazy, slovenly, whiny ass and pursue it. Find it. Work for it.
Don’t talk to me about how unfair it is that you have to do a, b and c to be happy. We all have to do a, b and c to be happy. That’s called “pursuit” of happiness.
No one owes you a damn thing except yourself. Now quit bitching.
Take It All
I have a propensity to give more away than I really should. It always starts out innocently enough, make a phone call to the Salvation Army to pick up a used, (but in good condition), piece of furniture and the next thing I know, I’ve got a giant box of my stuff sitting by the door for them to collect also.
Last week I decided to do away with my bookshelves and a computer desk as I finally found replacements that I actually wanted. Of course I could sell the items on E-Bay or put an ad in the paper but since they were relatively cheap in price to begin with and I don’t want to deal with the hassle of selling, I called up GoodWill. Well, apparently, Goodwill doesn’t want many of your things. I thought they were an organization that helped people get things for their home and themselves at a much reduced rate in their warehouses but I was wrong. After 4 calls to different Goodwills, I was directed by someone there to call the Salvation Army.
I’ve donated to St. Vincent de Paul and Goodwill in the past with money or clothing or by convincing everyone in the office at work to make one of them the recipient of our collections in a charity drive but I’d never given to the Salvation Army. The aforementioned charity places have become increasingly picky with what they will take and I find that disheartening. I understand that they don’t want some ragged, torn up, pee stained couch but unless the item is high end or practically brand new, they turn their nose up at it. Whatever happened to “beggars can’t be choosers”?
Regardless, I got on the phone with Salvation Army and they were more than delighted to come get my furniture and they made the offer to pick it up. I did not have to ask them if they would do it. Salvation Army gets a gold star.
After making the arrangements to have a driver show up on Thursday, the rep on the other end informed that they are having a clothing drive, do I have any clothes to give away? I did. Two weeks ago. Before I said heck with it and threw them all in the trash because I didn’t think that it would feasible for someone to come pick those up as there weren’t that many. Enough to clothe someone for a week, I suppose but really, why drive all that way, spending money on gas?
I sat there, feeling a twinge of guilt for throwing perfectly good clothing away when I could have held on to them for any possible future pick ups or could have dropped them off or called or something. I told the rep that I would look around to see if I might have anything but that it probably wouldn’t be that much.
I hung up the phone and immediately started looking through my closets and dresser drawers to see if I could part with something. I mean, there are people far less fortunate than me who need clothes. I have tons of clothes. I can give some of them away.
As I perused the first closet, I realized, I don’t have as many items of clothing as I thought I did. Whenever I move, I end up tossing so much stuff or giving away so much stuff and if I do it in steps, spread apart, I don’t realize how much I’m giving away. Until I go to give more away. What I found myself staring at were a plethora of coats and jackets and some tops. I’ve given or tossed away almost 75% of my wardrobe over the past year. Still, none of it went to charity so I have to find something right?
I gathered about 10 shirts and 3 pairs of shorts, all in really nice condition, and as I examined each one, imagined the delight on someone’s face as they picked it out for purchase in the Salvation Army store. I could see them buying one of the shirts, anxious to get home, wash it and then put it on. I could see them boucning around the city with their new shirt on, beaming from ear to ear that they found such a cool top for such a low price.
That’s when I found myself tearing through my house trying to find more to give. After an hour of going through everything I owned for the third time, (to pick up stragglers), I ended up with, yet again, a very large box filled with not only clothes but some stuffed animals I had saved over the years, books, computer games, a digital camera, battery re-charger, tools, bedding, etc.
My friends don’t think I have much as it is but you would be amazed at how much you actually have. Anyone who has ever moved will know this feeling. I’m getting used to parting with things and have made myself committ to the rule that if you don’t use it for six months, get rid of it. This is why I have another gigantic box, sitting by my door, waiting for the Salvation Army guy on Thursday. He will take that, the bookshelves, the computer desk, and, if he submits any further information about things they need, I may give them more. I can’t help myself.
I also never take a tax write off on anything I’ve ever donated. Ever. To me it seems wrong. To me, you should donate because you want to give someone else something that you no longer need or want. You should donate because it’s helping someone or many people out. You should not donate because you may get money out of it. Now that’s just how I feel. If others want to get tax write offs, all the more power to them. I just can’t operate that way. It just feels wrong to me. Many would probably remark that I’m a dumbass then for not taking money from the government for helping out but despite how much the government steals from us, I just can’t follow that same path. I give because it’s the right thing to do, I get happiness from it and I know that someone else will get something from my donations. That IS enough for me.
I am probably giving away about $500-1000 worth of stuff and I have forced myself to stop looking for anything else to give away. In the last year, I have given away just about everything I ever owned. I have new stuff in its place, of course, but I’ve got to learn to curb this desire to outfit the entire world with clothing and furniture.
Giving is good but if I give away too much, I will find myself at the Salvation Army buying my own stuff back. And that’s not good.
So You Want To Get Yourself Published
Many bloggers I’ve read have had aspirations to write a book and a few of them have done so, successfully. Even as far back as I can remember, I wrote little stories and have had people tell me I should write a book. I’m not so sure anything I say is interesting enough to be book worthy material but many people I do read, are. The problem is, many of those people have no idea how to even go about getting published and even when they do figure it out, it can take up to a year so they never really get started.
Except that now there is a way, a faster way, an easier way that allows you to concentrate on writing meaning there are no more excuses. If you want to write a book and Publish a Book , take a look at AuthorHouse.com.
Once you have everything written and ready, go to the site, sign the contract, submit your manuscript, take part in a conference call about the design, (including size, color and interior layout), review the book cover, approve it as well as set your book price and royalties percentage. Additionally, the company will help you with the editing, promotion and selling. Your book can be hardback, paperback or even in Adobe .pdf.
At the present, there are over 40,000 self published authors using AuthorHouse.com to publish over 50,000 books.
So, kids, if you’ve got some poems lying around that you think the whole world should see, a life story to tell, or you’ve always thought of dabbling in to the world of children’s books, get yourself published. It’s easier than you think.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Each Day Lasted Forever
Welp, I’m finally hooked back up and have a lot of things to do....writing wise, that is. I need to start writing those paid ads again which means I have to write a personal post in between each one....so, I guess I’ll pull on some material from the past months as well as most recently.
Plus, as a little dessert for all those who waited patiently, I do have a commenter slashing waiting in the wings for you all to enjoy. I just love armchair psychologists. They make me laugh and their words are so. easy. to tear to shreds. I’m actually looking forward to that one. But it has to be just right. So hold on for that in the near future, kids.
Other than that, it’s been a long week and I am in serious need of some rest. Plus I have other activities I need to get started. Like, the other night I came up with a brilliant new blog title and I think I’m going to start another side blog. We’ll see.
Anyhoo, I’m going to drink a well earned adult beverage and call it a night.
Ciao kids.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sometimes Idiots Make Me Laugh
I deal with idiots all day long. ALL! day long. Most of the time, these idiots annoy the ever loving crap out of me and since most of them are from Europe, they have a fucking elitist attitude to go along with their idiocy which makes them all the more repulsive and it’s extremely difficult at times to curb the desire to shove them out of the boat as we pass an alligator.
However, sometimes an idiot does something so idiotic and there’s no way in hell they can get away with their idiocy that I laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.
Such as this douche bag:
Quite possibly the most retarded illegal alien.
That is some funny shit right there.
(Thanks to pamibe for that one.)
Hope! Change!
(Forgive me for the title but I must make fun of Braaack! Osama whenever the opportunity arises.)
It is very possible that things are going to be changing in a big way around here very soon. While the adjustment may take a little time to get used to, I’m used to change and I’m very used to dealing with adapting to those changes in order to make it as good as possible.
Then, finally, I can get back to this blogging thing and writing those little ads for some money and just being a lot more at ease, better rested and, frankly, happy as a pig in shize.
So while it is unfortunate how this change came about, in the end, it will have been worth it. And once that change has taken place, fully, I can then get in to all kinds of things I’ve not been talking about for months on end. And all will be understood.
I think.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Opine, Opine, Opine
I’ve been trying to curb my road rage...and that annoyance has to go somewhere. So, I’m going to have to vent some way. An unfortunate victim will be a commenter here because what they said is just ridiculous and, frankly, annoying.
This is a comment re: my post on baggy pants and some ridiculous fucking law they want to sign in the state of FL regarding baggy pants.
"I agree with you on alot of these point and I love ur out look on things but open up your mind a lil more you dont think the way you dress or the way I dress or my friend dresses originated from something too the world just repeats it self we see something we like we try to copy it and add a lil bit of new stuff we have...bottom line clothes are material think before you call a person wearing saggy jeans a douche bagg cause who knows they are most likely saying the same thing about your style
keep writting tho I love it email me too” ~ jr
First of all, dear GOD, what is up with your grammar and lack of punctuation? Let me offer you some helpful advice: It would be a hell of a lot easier to follow what you’re trying to say if you would let me know when one sentence finishes and another one begins.
Second, and this is just a pet peeve of mine so don’t take it personally...it’s not just directed at you, it’s directed at anyone who does this: it’s “A lot” not “alot”. Ok? Two words. A. Lot.
Moving to the meat of your comment: Of course the way we dress originates from somewhere. Congratulations, Detective. Regardless, the fact of the matter remains, the baggy pants look did indeed begin in jails as a signal to other inmates who was ready for sex. Just because you don’t like that fact does not mean it changes. The point is, people who wear baggy pants, more often than not, are trying desperately to inform the rest of the world just how bad ass they are, (ha! no pun intended), when the reality is, it started as a way of asking other male inmates to pound them in their backside. That just doesn’t scream, “I’m hard core gangsta” to me. Facts are facts. That is the reality. Learn to live with it.
Think before I call someone a douche bag? We are all entitled to our opinions. I am entitled to call someone who wears baggy pants around their ankles a douche bag, moron, insipid twit or any other noun as I deem fit because that, my dear, is my opinion. You don’t have to like it but guess what? This is America and thus far, we are not controlled by the Thought Police and until that time? I will voice my opinion at any time, any day, any where. I don’t much rightly care if you don’t like it. But thanks for trying, mom! I’m a grown up, I don’t need you to instruct me on what to think and what to say. I also call people who wear spandex with a roll of fat hanging over the edge disgusting pigs, douches, ignorant fucks, what have you. And guess what? You can call me any name in the book, too! See how that works? We are FREE to think whatever the hell we want! And, this is my blog, I get to write out what I think about that exactly as I want. Whee! Isn’t freedom great?
Finally, I don’t rightly care what anyone says about my clothing. I do not buy clothes to please other people or make statements to anyone. I’m not trying to impress you or anyone else with my attire. (Jesus on a pogo stick, read some of my archives on this very topic.) I buy clothes that I like, that are comfortable and look good on me and don’t make me look like a fuck stick as I walk down the street. Now, if someone sees me walking down the street and says, “Good LORD look at her! I can’t believe she’s wearing that! What a fuck stick!” I don’t care.
Let me give you a real good lesson that will greatly improve your life: ‘Other peoples’ opinions of me are none of my business.’
Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Whether it’s favorable or not, it’s not my business and I certainly do not care. Do these people who think I’m a fuck stick pay my rent? My car insurance? Food? No? Then who gives two shiny shits what they say or think about me. I highly recommend you do the same in life. Stop giving a shit what other people say about you and your material crap like clothing.
It. Doesn’t. Matter.
Oh, one more thing....I don’t even know you, why would I email you?
Nonetheless, thanks for stopping by. And please, PLEASE work on punctuation. It’s painful to read something like that.
(And, jr, trust me, I let you off lightly.)
