Oh bugger it all!!!

Have you ever had one of those moments when you just want to throw your hands in the air and just say, "Fuckit, I'm done!"  And not in an angry, pissed off at the world kind of way, just in a matter of factly, the straw hasn't quite broken the camel's back but you just can't do it anymore kind of way?  I guess that would mean a bone weary tired kind of way.

So in July, I went overnight camping with a couple of friends.  The next morning I was needed to go into work early so I ran by home and dashed back out again.  When I returned home from work that afternoon/night the police were here and apparently my alarm had been going off and the cops had been called.  I had been robbed once again.

And once again, because of my gut telling me to hide the most important stuff, the only thing they were able to get was the Wii.  At first I said fuck it, they can do without since the had the xBox.  But after a few weeks of self pity I found myself to a pawn shop on South Blvd. where they had a Wii.  No cords, no controllers, just the console.  I paid sixty five dollars and brought it home.  Then I hid it in the drawer.  I figured I would need to find a way to prepare the kids that they would have to make their Mii's again and all their Data wouls have been lost and then back it up with at least I got them a new one.

Skip forward to tonight.  The subject finally was broached and the kids were tld. They took it better than I thought and the way I hoped.  They were fine as long as they at least had a Wii.  They took it, they hooked it up and called me screaming.

Why, you ask?

Because there was all of their information right there as if the will had never gone missing.  Their Mii's, our info, our games... it was ALL there.

I paid sixty five bucks for my own damn wii.

I paid for my own wii.  Across town.

Patty advised me to call the non emergency line for CMPD and tell them that I've found my own wii.  Maybe they'll go with me back to the pawn shop where the report can be shown and since it was my property to begin with, they'll give me my money.  Considering they bought stolen merchandise  the least they can do is give me back my money.  I'm going to ask Mommy if she will take me tomorrow.  Or at the least Thursday.

On the news of the car, it now won't start.  I'm going to junk it.  I won't put any more money into it.  I've actually just contacted the place that first fixed it up for me and asked them if they buy old VW's.  I'll see what they have to say before I call a place that more than likely shove it in a junk yard and let it rot further.

I'm not upset, I'm just...  Whatever.  Life is testing me to see how strong I am and I refuse to give in.  I'm not going to buckle.

Cooked dinner for the girls tonight.  Fried Whiting and french fries.  There goes my fatty meal portion for the month.  They told me they miss me being home and they love it when I cook.  Guilt trip much??  I must endeavor to actually cook on my nights off from now on.  I know they enjoy it.  I think next week we'll have roast beef.

Sigh...

At least life is NEVER boring around me.

Stay Frosty bloggers.  I'm going to finish out season two of Call the midwife...

Ugh...

Randomness tonight...

1. So watching netflix... I've fallen in love with this BBC show called Call the Midwife about women who delivered babies in East London in the 1940's.  Love it.  But like all English shows, it has a Christmas episode.  American Television doesn't show this.  AT ALL>  Why not?  WHat does American television have against the Christmas episode of English shows?  They act like they don't exist all together and just go right on to the next season and the viewer is left with a million questions.  Like Downton Abbey.  If I hadn't wisened up and looked up the Christmas episodes, I would never have even half the answers I do now.  Ha, you thought I was going to give a spoiler.  Phooey on you.

2.  Watching Once Upon a Time tonight.  In true ABC style, they managed to turn the innocent tale of the sorcerer's apprentice into a dark and twisted tale.  Yea!  You caught my sarcasm.  I know you did.  I don't have any other opinion than to sit here with my mouth all twisted up in disgust.  But still I watch the show.  It's like my soap opera.

3. I have the next three days off.  Not sure how I feel about this but it's not going to change while my car is a very large piece of shit.  So I'm going to do something constructive with my time.  I'm going to binge watch Call the midwife with a side of Walking dead and if I'm not completely out of my fool mind by Tuesday night I *might* clean out my DVR.  I will be out of my mind.  This is not negotiable.  Since I;ve started working, I don't really want to be home.

4. Which leads me to randomness #4.  I don't really want to be at work either because I live there and that's not good.  People who live t work only tend not to have any other life.  I want another kind of life.

                         


I want the life that the beginning of this summer made me think I'd have by now.  NO, I'm not about to go into another rant.  I want to, but I'm not.  The good news is I managed not to act like every breath he took Saturday night made me want to rip his face off.  That's progress, right?  I mean baby steps.  I know I must take baby steps.  (Stop laughing)

And a friend of mine tried really hard today to make me understand that if he uses me having kids as an excuse or really won't be seen with me outside of work, he can't really be what I want.  I'm not that desperate am I?  Oh God what if I am?  No, no, I'm not.  This is the brain's chemical reaction to the serotonin that lit it up like a Christmas tree a month ago.  That's all this is.  And it will go away.  And I will be fine and I will stop thinking in the back of my mind  

I still have to give him his birthday present in a month.  I was stupid and set aside money from a couple of paychecks to buy him a carton of his favorite cigarettes a couple of times.  So now, I have cigarettes that taste like straight ass in my drawer and when I give them to him for his birthday present, he's going to still think that I'm hung up on him again.  Hopefully by them I won't be.

5. I have to be a good girl now.  Certain someone is on my Facebook now and if he thinks I believe that he doesn't use the damn thing incognito he's fallen down and hit his head.  Hah!  Nope!

THIS is why I don't say any names.  It's safer that way.

So I'm going to go and watch the Christmas Episode of Midwife and then tuck my self into bed until tomorrow.

Nighty o!

Special Customers... (And other randomness)

So uh yeah... tonight and extra special customer learned just WHY they don't generally let me talk to customers after 8 pm....

This guy came in and did his thug gangster crap to Felicia and I looked up and saw his face and figured he was messing with her and she and I were getting along today so I really thought, "He better not be messing with her..."  I went up there and he was trying to play it off like he was just messing with her but I'm pretty sure he saw my mom walk and thought he better play it off... Whatever, he got two menus and left the store.

About a half an hour later, he called FROM THE PARKING LOT to order a large pizza and 20 boneless wings but he was talking like I spoke ebonics and I couldn't understand him... I honestly thought he wanted me to put BOTH buffalo and BBQ on a ten piece wings.  To which he said,"You know what? I'm in the parking lot, I'm coming in."

My thought was, If you are the effing parking lot why not just walk in and place your order.  Followed closely by by, Be nice dette, be nice

ANYWAYS

He comes walking up to the door like he's gonna hurt someone and gets to the counter and says, "You know let me tell you like this."  And he wasn't playing either.  He was actually going to get mad at me and proceed to tell me off.  "Let me tell you like this." was the last thing he got out of his mouth before I looked him square in the eye and said "I really hope that you are playing with me because if you are about to tell me off I WILL come over this counter.  Not around it, OVER it."

The look on his face was the same look that all boys get when they've pissed off mom.  So I know he had home training by a good woman but oh man, I was so deadly serious.  He even tried to come back at me somewhat when he looked over at Falecia and said "What kind of customer service is this?"  To which I replied, "I don't have any customer service skill when customers act like that, now what do you want?"

I so could have gotten fired.  I know this and I am so thankful that my boss had gone home and that the owners weren't there.  I'm pretty sure I would have been turned out on my ear but damn, people need to understand that just because someone lied to you and told you that the customer is always right doesn't mean that I have to help support that lie.  The customer is not always right.  Most of the time the customer gets what they want because the person they are belittling has more class than to go up one side of them and down the other.

Like I said, they don't generally let me talk to customers after a certain hour.  I'm not a nice person to those who aren't nice to me and my censor guard takes a serious nap...

I really really should watch this.  One day I'm going to come across a customer who might actually complain.  But you know what, I'm not going to deny that I probably ripped them a new asshole, I'll own up because my boss knows me well enough that I couldn't perpetrate that lie on my best days.  If someone says I went off on them his first question would probably be to them "What did YOU say that caused her to rip you a new asshole?"  And you better have your story straight, too because you best be damn sure that I'm going to tell WORD FOR WORD what you said that caused me to go off.

I'm a nice person, I swear I am... NO no I don't.  My momma raised me not to swear to falsehoods.  I can be a nice person but I reciprocate what I receive and if I receive crap I WILL give you back shit.

I should not work in customer service.
I should not work in customer service.

I learned this lesson back at value city when I made a woman cry at the customer service desk because she tried to return panties that she had worn and not even bothered to wash.

I should not work in customer service.
I should not work in customer service.

I should just stay in the back and make the food and not talk to the customers.  I should do that.  I can do that.

That is what I am going to do from now on.  I'm just going to stay in the back.

Away from customers.

And make food.

For the customers.

Away from the customers.

Away from people.

Also, I want my braids back.  I miss my braids.  I know who I am with braids.  I don't know who I am with hair and I know I spent $264 dollars on these tracks and another $90 to have them put in but dammit, I want my braids back.  This crap is way too high maintenance.  I am not a high maintenance kind of girl.  I am a put it in a ponytail or let it hang kind of girl.  This crap requires combing and straightening and curling and other girly crap.

No.  Just No.  I will wash the tracks and get them sewn into Olivia's hair.  She's a girly girl  She will pull them off and be just fine and probably rock them better than I ever could.

I want my braids back.  By Thanksgiving I will have them back.  I'm so done with the pretty girl hair.
It's two am and I haven't even taken my night pills.  I'm going to go do that.

Stay Frosty bloggers.

I should go back to the nightly blogging.

So as a follow-up to last nights banshee rant againt men in general (by the way that was about one guy but he WILL remain anonymous... at least to the general public)

BUT this morning a friend of mine called me and mentioned that I was in a foul mood last night and I almost fell out of my bed laughing.  Why did I have this brain disconnect moment, you ask? Well the person I was not talking to last night acted completely oblivious to me not saying anything to him so the fact that he mentioned it to the friend that called me means that yes he noticed.  My answer this morning to was I okay because I was in a foul mood last night was the laugh and say I wasnt in a bad mood, just not talking to him.  And in some weird twisted way, it made me feel just a little bit better that said person actually noticed.

Yeah, I'm strange and stupid like that and no, I don't apologize for it.

So back to the topic, I think I am going to go back to blogging nightly because there is a lot of crap in my head that really SHOULDN'T be in there when I go to bed.  I mean really should not be there because then I have dreams that even I can't explain.  And I wake up and its like WTF.

Have you ever noticed that after Tuesday even the calendar says WTF? Serious random thought.

Im still at work.  I probably shouldn't be blogging at work but there you have it.

My car died today.  I got to the auto zone and thats where she sits.  Every time I took my foot off the gass, it stopped.  Its throwing nine codes not counting the brakes so yeah... hooptie has had her lasr hurrah at my expense.  Im so done.  Im going to call one of those places that buy junk cars and tell them that THEY can go get it.  I am not putting any more money in her.  Come to think of it, I cleaned her out yesterday just on a whim and im wondering if the dirt that I took out of her and off her was what was holding her together... and of course I just put probably the last bit of money I could spare into the tank.  Thats why I stopped filling her up.  Every time I did, she caught a case.  Note to self... just drive on fumes... lol

Im still in a good mood.

Im gonna stay in a good mood.  The tramadol might have something to do with that.

I'm gonna close this. I should go flip the make line.  Im gonna wait.  We're gonna get a pop thats gonna make it not worth doing right now.

So stay frosty bloggers I love y'all you know that?  Even when I rant and rave on you're still here.  I like that.

Gnight y'all!!

So... Men suck...

Can someone tell me why men think that they have the monopoly on Blue balls??  Is it because they think they're the only ones that have balls?  They aren't.  Women have balls, but ours are in the inside and we call them ovaries.   And while we're on lessons, guys, let me tell you, when you jump start those things, especially after they've been dormant for a couple of years, you really need to finish what you start.  And that's just advice from a woman.

Men have it so freaking lucky, I think.  They get all excited and they can go in the bathroom and jerk jerk jerk until they feel all fine and even with the world again.  Girls do that and we're nasty and dirty.  I have never once, outside of a really bad porn flick, seen a woman go into a bathroom and attempt to solve that problem on her own.  No, women wait until they get home and they pull out vibrators or hit the showers.  Why do you think detachable showerheads and extension shower lines sell so well?  Because women always have to finish what men start and are too much of a pussy to finish.

And God forbid, as a woman, I try to get said man to understand that it would be nice if he finish what he started.  Oh no!  Evil!!  Stay away from this one boys!!  She's gonna insist that you NOT leave her all hot and bothered and then pretend like you didn't do a damn thing wrong.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that things went the way they went or rather are going.  IS it still counted as in motion when you have stopped moving altogether?  Whatever.  I have kids and even though I knew it was coming and tried to avoid it by saying up front I didn't want one, EVERY SINGLE MALE ON THE FUCKING PLANET seems to think that if you date a woman with kids, she's going to expect you to want her kids and love them and be daddy.

NO, men.  Just NO!  In big bold capital letters NO!  Stop that!  If by chance there are any men reading this blog please listen and listen well.  If a woman outright says to you, and I QUOTE, "I am not looking for a father for my kids.  They already have one.  One that loves them.  I'm looking for someone for ME."  SHE MEANS IT!!!  She's not just saying that so that you'll walk into her trap and maybe some women might actually be classless enough to try that line and then get you hooked but a real woman, a woman who already has her battle scars from foraging into the world of men, is not going to say that stream of sentences lightly.

So men, please stop using the excuse "You have kids and I'm not sure I'm ready for that".  It's old and it's tired and it put you in a barrel with all the other no ball sac having assholes that used that same lame excuse to get out of getting to know a woman and that isn't really someplace you want to be.

You all keep claiming that divorced black women are all bitter.  Stop and take a minute and think about why you think we are.  Because we don't put up with bull shit?  Because when you throw an excuse at us, we don't just accept it and believe you?  That when you do something stupid she expects you to own up to your actions and be a man?  Because she wants you to hold her and make her feel like an actual flesh and blood woman and not a three dollar whore?

We aren't bitter.  We're battle weary. There's a difference.  A big one.  And NO, we aren't holding you responsible for what our ex's did to us... well I'm not going to speak for all women... MOST of us aren't making new men pay for past men's mistakes.  If you act the same, it's not our fault that we recognize time repeating itself and want to get off the ride.  My ex was a son of a bitch (I mean that so literally I could stitch it on a sampler)  He lied, he cheated, he belittled me, and he played so many mind games that when I finally got out of the house of mirrors long enough to breathe fresh air, I had no idea who I was.  The night we actually started our honeymoon, he was actually INSIDE ME and told me he was sorry, but he planned to cheat on me.  He'd always wanted a white girl. And he was in the navy so to him, going to different ports was giving him that opportunity.

But I'm not bitter.  Nope.  I learned my lesson.

Back to the topic at hand.

Women are not just machines that you men can just turn on and off at the flick of a switch.  Okay, maybe some women are and they kinda give women who have a little more grounding a bad name but whatever.  If you start something, please please please finish it.  If at first you don't finish (maybe because a very unwelcome visitor showed up) go back and finish when you can.  And don't make her wait long.  What will happen is that everytime she looks at her shower head, the damn thing will cry, "Rape!!  Stalker!! Stay away from me!!" or just dribble water as if it's crying because it's had enough.  If batteries are on her grocery list every time you glance at it, you're taking too long.  And no, the batteries aren't for the Wii remotes or the Xbox controllers.  They're for the little friend that she keeps hidden in a drawer so that when you pussy out, she can get some kind of relief.

Okay, I've ranted myself out.  The banshee inside my head has screamed all the obscenities she had.  I don't feel like doing anyone bodily harm out of sheer frustration anymore.  We're all good.

Seriously men, the moral of tonight's rant was basically this:  Finish what you start or don't freaking start it.  We all have blue balls but some are just a little harder to get back to normal.  And stop being pussies.  And using people's kids as excuses not to get to know a woman.  Grow up and be men.  That's all women want.  For you to be a man.  The one we were attracted to in the first place.  Just be him.  Let stuff fall into place and happen the way it's going to happen.  Stop thinking she's making you pay for shit another man did to her.  She's not.

I'm going to bed, bloggers.  I'm spent and have to be at work tomorrow at one.  I seriously think an espresso shake might actually be needed for the first time in a long time.

On the bright side I did a little retail therapy a few days ago and they go here today.  Way too big for me in retrospect but I kinda feel better...

Rotator cuff issues...

So last night was fun... I lifted a stack of Medium sheet outs and my left should screamed no.  Not just no, but NO!  NOPE!! NOT HAPPENING! Very nearly dropped the sheet outs on the floor but managed to get them back on the sheeter table because honestly, I'd be damned if I was going to have to sheet out more because I dropped them on the floor.  What followed were two hours of some of the most excruciating pain I have had to endure for the last few years.

I couldn't even raise my left arm above my head and when I did... OMG...''John wanted to send me home but what it took me about an hour to be able to say through my pain and fighting of tears was that if I couldn't stand to get the thing over my head, there was no way I could drive home.  And I was not kidding.  Hooptie has some fine points and she lets me get away with a lot of crap I should not be doing while driving her, but driving her with intense pain in one shoulder is not something she would let me do.  The trip home would have been probably similar to labor pain just up top.  And I would it would have taken me forever because I would have had to pull over onto the side of the road to cry... a lot.

Somewhere around eightish, I raised it and put enough pressure on it to get that pop that I am sometimes rewarded with if I flex it out enough and ignore the tears.  Believe me this happens about once a month, it's not something I can do every time this pain returns.  But anyway, I was rewarded with the pop and the pain almost magically dissipated for the moment.  Think... orgasmic like relief.  Yes I said that and yes I meant that.  If I had been alone in the store at that moment the sigh and moan that would have left my mouth unchecked would have made passerby think I was getting pounded in there.  But I wasn't alone and only a faint moan left my mouth.  I do have some class... I may not show it often but it's there.  But don't tell my mom or she'll think her lessons on how to be a lady stuck and I'll be expected to show class from now on.

I know it's my rotator cuff because about a month or so ago I went to an urgent care clinic and they looked at it enough to tell me it was that but they couldn't do any more because my dr was denying permission to be seen outside of her office.  But here's the funny thing... I can't get an appointment with Lewis because her office counts that as my yearly visit not a sick appointment.  I have already used my yearly visit for 2014 and will have to wait until 2015 to see her again.  Cause you know, being in a massive amount of pain for months on end isn't something that your doctor should care about when you are on medicaid.

I looked online and it said something about taking ibuprofen and naproxen to relieve swelling and pain.  I took a motrin 800 last night and was able to sleep without waking up in pain.  Usually when I pull it the wrong way, the following five or so nights result in broken sleep because I roll over on it or lift my arm above my head in my sleep and wake up immediately crying.  The fact that the night of the pain coming back full force I was able to sleep with ibuprofen means that it's not torn as badly as I thought it would be and that if I go to the er (Since Lewis is denying that this needs to be looked at )they will give me more motrin 800 or naproxen and most probably put me in a sling to keep it still.

I have been dealing with this pain for almost five months now.  To say it comes and goes would be wrong.  The pain is ALWAYS there, it just depends on how bad the pain is.  When I do something stupid like oh say... my job... and try to move a stack of sheet outs  Or try to lift a pizza from the oven (Seriously I couldn't lift the XL's to save my life last night and a works pizza... fuggetaboudit...) it comes roaring back.  Usually I'm able to hide how bad it hurts, last night I was not.

Hey, I'm not always wearing my superwoman cape... It clashes with my new Howies shirt...

So I have to get dressed and get something to eat so that I can take the motrin and or aleve.  Can you take those together?? and get to work.  The getting dressed thing is going to take the longest because of the motion over my head.  Like I said, if this pain goes into tomorrow I'm just going to say fuck it and go to the er.  I wonder if Mommy can drive me.  I will have ask her.  Or the ex I can ask the ex to take me and come back for me.

Also I just found my flixeril and I'm hoping that the muscle relaxer will take some of the edge away for tonight.  We will see.

That being said, I have three hours to get ready... Better get started.. Yay!

Stay frosty bloggers.

So its been a minute since I blogged from my phone...

I cant say that I have a reason for this other then I really just don't use my phone to blog, i usually wait until I get home to write my feelings down the computer. But today, I'm feeling like another manic period is creeping up on me.  I can honestly say that I have not had one that threatened to hit this hard in a while.  Im sitting here at work about to go in and I'm outside crying like a baby.

Why? I dont fucking know.  I dont even think theres a reason except...

I feel so totally alone right now.  Like stranded on a desert island kinda lonely.   And its NOT the "I really need a man" kind of lonely.  Its the "I dont know what the fuck I mean but I FEEL it" kind of lonely.

There is no one that I can talk to.  Ninety nine percent of my friends turn my bad days into their own personal therapy session when I take the chance and talk like everyone urges me to.  This is precisely WHY I keep all of my feelings bottled up inside.  Just about every time I go to tell someone about whats making me feel like shit I get, "I know cause like I..." and thus begins them telling me about their craptastic day/week/month/endless moment.

And im too much of a chickenshit to just open mu mouth and say that for once I don't give a goid goddamn about anyone else right at the moment.

Plus im in PMS week so the hormones and the emotions are ganging up on me which isny makinh anything any better.  If anything its making them worse because the need to tell people to shut up and for once be the friend I need them to be instead of dumping shit on me is something thats really hard to control.

I wonder if anyone else feels like that and what they do about it.  I wish I still had a therapist that would sit and listen unobjectively but stupid me decided I didnt need her.  Nor did I need the meds that kept me on an even keel with the world...

So I have fifteen more minutes before I have to go into work and pretend like I feel like being a people person today.

What I wany to do is to curl up in my bed with my dvr remote and stay where the world kicked me.  Not say anything to anyone and not do a damn thing.  Wonder if I can convince Ambs to let me go.  Pretty surr thats a no...

Sigh... let me get my ass up and get in there.  The sooner begun, the sooner done...

GAH!!!

If life were a grade school essay right this moment, I would have to call this one, "Why I would happily go to jail for manslaughter." 

I swear!  Why do ex husbands have to be such a pain in the ass?  

My ex and I generally get along.  Not like best friends, but more like "I've seen you naked, I know shit about you that could possibly have you burned at the stake as a witch so you better not piss me off cause trust me, you WILL go down." kind of friends.  I once saw a  picture that said, My best friend is not allowed to stop being my best friend; the bitch knows too much.  That's what my relationship is like with my ex.  We both know way too much about the other so like it or not, we are always going to be in each other's life.  In my case, after my kids are eighteen, I don't care if I never have his number in my phone again.  Burn my ass at the stake if he tells my secrets.  Hell by the time my kids are eighteen, all of my secrets will be scattered through my blog and books anyway...

Back to the matter at hand.  I hate when I start rambling because I go all over the place and put my serious ADD on display.  IT's like, one, two, goat, rabbit, ooh shiny!  What was I saying?

Oh yeah!  My ex husband has the power to push all of my buttons and make me feel like I;m walking barefoot in the land of broken glass, barbed wire, and tiny tiny, Lego's.  Everytime we interact just about.

This afternoon, I asked him to call me because he's supposed to get the girls this weekend and I don't want him to forget nor do I want him to be rushing them like he was the week before last and they forget half of the stuff that they need.  He texted me back that he was in a teacher conference.  First off, I was kinda ticked because he tends to leave me out of my own son's life as far as calling me for conferences goes.  My son leaves me out of his life for everything else and I have accepted that.  But whatever.  I told him to call me when he got out of the conference.  No answer.  Skip forward to tonight when I get home.

I just got off work and I feel like the walking dead on my feet.  I love my job, but people really need to start cooking their own damn meals.  And if they can't cook their own damn meals at least learn to not all call and put web orders in at the same time.  The past two nights, the screen and phones have been blowing up. But whatever, It was just a tiring night at work.  I get home and my kids are telling me about how they talked to Daddy (great!) and how he's going to go up to the school tomorrow and tell them that he think there are too many kids in Kayla's class and she needs a smaller class.

First of all, they're going to look at him like, "Excuse me?? Who the hell are you?" because I didn't put him down as a contact this year and if they have the cards from last year in the kids' files, it clearly says that if he shows up, they are to call me.  He's not allowed to see them or take them from school without my permission.  I did that a few years ago when he liked to swoop into town and pick them up without telling me and then when I was freaking out because my kids weren't on the bus, he'd show up and they'd be sticky and messy and high on sugar while holding ice cream cones.  That shit used to piss me off.  So I fixed it and who better to make sure that he stays at arms length than a school system that employs a CMPD officer to keep the kids safe?  But what I needed was for himk to call me.  Because I needed to talk to him.

I admit it, I kinda lost it.  I sent him a really mean text.  But I prefaced it with, "What part of "I need you to call me" is spanish to you???"  THEN I launched into the really abusive petty text that was so long, my phone turned it into a picture message.  He responded that he would call me in the AM I told him after nine and then I realized, he's only responding because he didn't get the really long one.  So I warned him.  I just said "FYI you're about to get a really mean text from me."  he responded "lol, K."

He knows my buttons and he knows he pushed one of them by not calling me back today because he knows that I don't call him to shoot the shit.  I don't want to talk to him to ask him about his day, I don't care if he had a good one.  I don't give a general shit if he did everything he wanted to do today.  When I call him, I need to talk to him about the kids.  I like the conversations to be short and to the point and I don't want to gossip.  So yeah, he knew that if I warned him he was about to get a really long really mean text from me, it means he pushed the wrong buttons and I reacted in true Hiroshima style.

That being said, I should probably get to bed.  He's going to forget to call in the morning and I;m going to have to call him and try to control my anger.  

When I finally do get an actual boyfriend, he will have to be a really understanding person.  After talking to Randy, I usually need to go decompress for a little bit.  There's two choices.  Make me forget or let me decompress.

That just put a really bad thought in my head.  I;m going to go to bed now.

Oh yeah!! I got my hoodie today from work!! Yay!!  Love it already.

Okay, I'm going to bed.  I mean it.  I promise.  Stay Frosty!

Only blogging because I haven't in awhile...

So there's really nothing new that I can put in a blog at this point.

I'm still having the same love life struggles.  There's new twists in it but alas, nothing that I can put where just anyone can read it no matter how much I want to.

And I really, really want to tell someone and get another opinion on the matter but there's just some things that you just don't put online, you know?

Work is still going well.  I'm still the main insider.  If it's not a Tuesday night, and it's between five and ten, there's a really good chance that I may have made your pizza if you ordered from my Hungry Howie's.  Or at least cut it.  Sometimes I'm the make line moma and other times, I'm the oven wench.  These are my names for the spots in the kitchen.  I haven't come up with a name for when I am on the sheeter but then, I am rarely on the sheeter for very long.  I know that when I end up doing dough, I am Dough Dette.

As a matter of fact, work, is so awesome that I wish all of my life mirrored work.  Get in, get out, have fun while you're there.  Make some tasty food. Make people happy through their stomachs and some great customer service.

Okay, I'm not so great at the customer service thing.  Sometimes if I have a headache and I answer the phone and encounter one of those increasingly not so rare people who call a pizza parlor and still aren't sure of what they want to eat, my tone can be a little... well... strained.  Then you have the mothers or the young people who are on the phone but really need to hand the phone over to the person they are talking to just off the phone, or the ones that just need to hang up, handle the discipline of their kids and then call back.  I think of all the callers I dislike the most, the ones that yell at their kids with no regard to the ears of the person on the phone are the ones I hate the most.  I would deal with a hundred indecisive people before I deal with them voluntarily.

It's Breast Cancer research month.  Well October is.  We're selling bracelets and totebags at work and gasp!  I get to wear a black shirt for the month!!  IF I die in Howie's in the next month, there's a 1/6 chance that it won't be in a red shirt... so basically, I'm still going to die in black and red.

When you guys have my Viking funeral, just know that if you bury me in my Howie's uniform, I will haunt you so hard, your great great grandchildren will call me the household ghost.

On to bigger more vague topics.

When I was a teenager, I went to see a palmist.  You know, the fortune tellers that read your future from the lines on your hand?  Yeah, she flipped my left hand over and looked at the side and told me in no uncertain terms that I was to have four children and two marriages.  My first child would be born just shy of being illegitimate,  Which was true.  It was actually a few short weeks before New York and the Navy recognized our marriage as legal.  Something the navy would later renege on, but that's another story.  Nevertheless, J was born only two weeks after his father and I were deemed legally married.  She also promised that there would be two more children and the marriage would end around the birth of the third child.  Let's just go and say yeah, that's basically around when it ended... or should have...  She went on to say that I would have another child before my second marriage.

Besides the fact that I suck at sex (No seriously, I've actually be told this by two different men) this is why I'm scared to death of having sex.  I kinda don't want another child.  The ones I have are teenegers.  I can actually see that light at the end of the Mommy tunnel.  I can smell the salt air of my cruise, I can hear the horn of the cruise ship blowing in the distance.  I can taste that margarita.

I do want to get married though and she was adamant that the child would come before my next marriage as it was very clearly BEFORE my marriage line.  She also said I'd be in that marriage until the end of my life.  I have several theories on that.  None I will expound on.

So, there you go.  A blog.  About nothing but still I have a blog in for the month.  Is it October yet?

I'd stay Frosty but Fall has hit Charlotte and everyone is Frosty.  Try and stay warm.

Ta!

And the laughs just keep on coming!!

Welcome to the Wilson/Henderson Household where the laughs and the hits just keep on coming until you laugh from the hits and cry from the laughs!

So first up in the household news, I just used Nair on my oldest daughters legs for the first time.  I refuse to shave any child of mine.  She will have to learn the same way I did... wait until mom's out of the house and then spend the next two hours cutting myself and trying to come up with a plausible excuse for the massive amounts of cuts.  I knew her legs were getting bad but given the fact that I'm mostly pretending to be awake when they are getting ready for school, I don't notice that below my daughters shorts it looked like she was wearing black leg warmers and that is me being nice.  Of all the traits she had to get from her father, this one I am NOT happy about.  And I know she got it from his side because I actually called my mother, she confirmed we do not have hairy women on our side of the family.  I never looked at my XMIL long enough to wonder if she suffered from extra hair.  I do remember the X as having hair on his legs because I HATED when he would rub his legs against me the few times we were in bed together.  HAted it.

So now Big girl is walking around the house rubbing her arms and legs saying how it feels so smooth and so weird.  I totally do not blame her, I did the same thing the first time I nair'd... I also remember thinking if Nair is out there, why the hell do women prefer razors.  I mean seriously rub cream on wash hair off.  Hair stays gone a long time.  Versus rub foamy crap on scrap a sharp blade over skin, cuss because you hit a hair bump and now you're bleeding not go in an absolute straight line because you were too busy smarting over the bump and cut yourself again and when it's all done you have about two weeks of smooth goodness before you have to repeat.  Oh hell no!! Nair for me all the damn way. (Though I do shave some things)  So I'm going to see how she adjusts to being Nair'd once every couple of months.

In other health and beauty news, I am still running late and feeling like a broken typewriter.  Today marked day five on the missed period logs.  I don't think I have ever been this late before.  Makes me wonder if there's a lost tryst I should be trying to remember.  I mean if by some miracle and yes I'm gonna stick with miracle I'm pregnant (I'm not I know I'm not) I'm gonna have to start going to church more because ah... I haven't had sex since 2011.  That means old boys little guys have been lost in there for a little under three years.  So no, not preggo.  More than likely starting menopause.  Wanna say this is gonna be fun but I remember my mother's menopause.  It was NOT fun.  Heat on in the middle of summer, AC on on during a blizzard  Windows rolled down in the car in December and trying hard to hang out of the windows because she cranked the heater up in July.  I actually made a cop wonder what the hell was going on in the car one day cause I was hanging out of the window like a dog sweating my ass off.  He pulled up beside her and asked if I was okay, All I could pant was that my mother was having a cold flash and had the heat turned up.  Somehow he understood and just kept on going.

I'm happy to say that if I'm having mood swings, I'm not noticing.  But then I think I'm certifiably nuts anyway so  not sure if I am or not.  I know I've been pretty happy as of late.  Maybe mood swings for me will just be a massive evening out of my moods.  That would be awesome!  I'm probably the only woman ever to actually be happy about menopause.

Hmm... Is there anything else??

Oh yeah.  So as stupid crap always does, it gets back to the person it's about and this crap was about me.  The x's new Mrs. thinks I should drop the name Henderson because it's hers now and I'm not a Henderson anymore.  On one hand I'm tempted to say have at it, the name never did me any good but then on the other hand, I put blood sweat and a shitload of tears into that name.  I'm like Tina Turner.  I earned that damn name.  True I only use it when I run across a teacher who insists that because my children are Henderson so must I but nearly EVERYONE calls me wilson now.  I don't want the name and would happily drop it if I ever get married again but damn, maybe it's the fact that she wants me to drop it makes me want to hold onto it even more.  Keep in mind that I'm laughing my ass off about it.  I'm not mad at all.

Everything else in life is going swimmingly. Absolutely nothing else to blog about.  That or my mind is just drawing a blank.

I turn 35 in a few days.  Oddly enough I'm looking forward to it.  I'm at a good place in my life right now  So 35 isn't so scary.

Stay frosty bloggers!  I'll be back!