Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Broke as a Joke

After several failed attempts at self-diagnosis on WebMD I finally bit the bullet and called my girly doc to make an appointment. 
"I think I've got a nether-region infection," I said to the girl on the other side of the line.  "I don't know what it is but my girly part area is not happy and I need to see someone. Or, er, someone needs to look at me."  After she was done giggling in my ear she made an appointment with me to see Regina, a very nice PA at my OB-GYN's office. 

I arose from my chair at work carefully, fought the urge to cry out as a pain shot through my groin-al region and hobbled to my car.  I managed to get to St. Mary's and into a teeny parking space with some expert maneuvering on my end and in to the office within fifteen minutes. 

I was weighed (ugh.) and handed a cup (double ugh). 

And then I sat there for an hour.  With no book to read.  And nothing to do but work on my Bookworm Score (3,578,110 and counting!) Luckily I was still dressed otherwise I would've been even more livid than expected.  

Finally, Regina stuck her head in.

"I couldn't find you!  My nurse went to lunch and didn't tell me you were here!"

That's right. 
Me and my achey girl-part were FORGOTTEN!

But she quickly had me strip down and started poking around.  

"Does this hurt?  This?  How about this? Lemmie look at you..."  Regina poked her cold gloved fingers around my thighs and my fluffy areas and then said, "Okay - sit up."

"Well," she said, "you look fine.  But I think you have tendonitis."

"I have tendonitis - - - of the Vagina?"  I laughed so hard that my paper sheet covering my nakedness fluttered from my flailing legs. 

"Well, did you put up a Christmas Tree because you've done something where you've squatted or pulled the muscles-"

"Do I look like a gal who does a lot of physical activities?"  I interrupted and erupted into giggles again. 

"Well... it could've come from - intercourse." She then went on to show me all the positions it could've happened during.   And then went on to say that she wouldn't encourage anything with me on top or Harry on top.  

So - Merry Christmas, Harry - Santa brought you Celibacy!!!!


Summer, my ever-supportive sister wanted to know what kind of sling they made for such an ailment. 

Mom, upon hearing of my diagnosis, said "Do I need to have a talk with Mr. Shivel?"

and Harry, after learning of my brokenness had this to say: "Oh yeah.  I'm good!"

So Merry Christmas to all and to all - bring me some damn ice for my no-no part!  


Monday, December 22, 2008


I am so freakin' bored!

And lord help my frosty soul, I have TRIED to make my own fun. I made an accidental Cat Food meatloaf (ya know - smelled good, but tastes nasty) and ended up eating a tiny bagel for dinner with a pathetic and elderly tomato for accompaniment, instead.   

The only shining part of my otherwise drab and dreary existence on this Manic Monday is that I decided to watch a movie that was highly, and repeatedly, recommended to me. So I sat down, Cat Food Loaf in hand and popped in "Boondock Saints."

I loved it!

A cast of merry (to use the word loosely) characters, not too much blood for an O+ squeamish freak like myself and just enough nakedness of Sean Patrick Flannery (yes I still find him hot after "Powder."  Sue me.) to make me watch the deleted scenes.  Repeatedly.  It had violence, a pinch of sex, a tad bit of twin-brother-bordering-on-incest-love, loyalty, religion and a pretty kickin' soundtrack.   

And I sound like a 12 year old boy with an Xbox-live fetish. 

Okay so I watched the movie, ate a bagel and ended up downstairs on the 'puter trying to google the latest of my many ailments. 
I swear, dudes and dudettes of the world wide whatever -  I do believe the warranty on this chubby lil' sausage casing I drag around on a daily basis has a 3o year expiration and I'm now running out of time!   Ugh. 

Oh - and as a side note, here was the actual toast my dad gave at my sister's birthday dinner yesterday:

Raising his tiny glass of pink kool-aid high (it was the only clean glass left after we'd claimed all the big people ones) my dad smiled with his new teeth and said:
"To all the kisses I've snatched and vice versa!"

Another tiny bit of me died on my mother's new linoleum floor right there.    

Happy Monday!!!!!!

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Catnip Scented Clouds Await Him

After twenty years of being a loving and wonderful housecat, Silver Mercedes Adkins fell asleep in his La-Z-boy Recliner last Thursday and passed on to that Catnip Scented Cloud in the heavens.   He will be missed...

Some animals have instincts to know when their owners are hurting or sad and when my first love, my high school sweetheart of three years (which is an eon in teenage years) left me for a Salt Rock-ian native with a humpback, I was devastated.  I wanted to speak to no one.  I wanted to see no one.   And yet here was Silver, immediately pushing open my door so hard that it banged hard against the footboard of my antique cast iron bed.  He grumbled at me and walked in a circle and then hopped on the bed where he put one delicate foot on my arm and meowed in my face in understanding.  And with that dose of fishy breath I felt better.   He stayed with me that night.  And many night after.  
It's funny how when we're in such pain, when it feels like our heart has not only been broken but has packed up, left town and moved to Mexico to work as a llama breeder and that no person can comfort us that our pets can reach us and pull us up to realize that there's more to life than love and heartbreak.  After all - we still have cat food and cat toys to buy!

We buried him in the rock garden.   After 20 years of trying to get outside, of darting like a silver streak from between our legs, Silver has finally gotten his wish...  Rest in peace little kitty of mine...  And watch for Phoebe - you know how she likes to smack you around...

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Migraine Pain and Funtimes

I felt the tingles last night and I knew that the sleeping beast was slumbering no longer. Like a stealthy and sneaky paparazzi, I could feel him lingering on my peripheral and trying to push himself upon my vision, my life. But I ignored him, the Migraine that lingered.

I banished him with a pain pill and closed my eyes by 10pm in hopes of a bright and cheerful morning. Instead I found myself lying awake at 4am with my head in the grips of a tug of war between the pain and the nausea.

It got the best of me.

It won.

I called in sick to work and wallowed in the blackness of my life for the majority of the day.

Until I decided to get up to get some food.
And then I locked myself out of my bedroom.
Yes, that's right.
I'm that good.
I can be miserable to the point that I'm sure no more misery exists and then I put a flimsy-yet-oddly-impervious door between me and my sanctuary.

A tiny screwdriver, a kitchen knife and enough curse words to damn us all to hell, and I was back in bed.

I'm doing better now, my head is starting to look more Holly-shaped again and my bedroom door is not fully pulled close so no danger of a repeat lockout.

And I managed to wrap and put another one of Harry's presents under the tree last night. that makes, er, uh, five for him and - zero for me.

I think Santa finally figured out that my inclusion on the "nice" list was an oopsie!

I better at least get coal! And fruitcake!


Friday, December 5, 2008

Thanksgiving Leftovers

After an uncomfortable silence following the questioning of the missing "Thanks" in our Thanksgiving dinner my small and compact grandmother sat back in her chair, stuck a fork in her corn casserole and asked, "Why do Pilgrims' pants keep falling off?"

Fearing the punchline we all nervously began laughing and started loudly asking for seconds even though the first bits of the meal were still sitting on our plates. My grandmother has a knack for telling jokes wrong and for telling wrong jokes and we're always on edge when her lips open as we never know what words will drip from her reddened lips.

I stiffened and thought of all the punchline possibilities in snippets "oh good lord! Something about "his bird" or a turkey... gobbler? Missionary? Would it be wrong to accidentally toss a plate at her head?"

I couldn't stop it.

Her lips parted, the corn casserole was stabbed again and then, she spoke: "Cuz they wear their belt buckles on their hats."

Relieved laughter bubbled up from my family and Nan-nan looked thorougly impressed that she was able to bring an entire table to giggles just by using her wit.
"Oh, mom," my mother said as she shook her head at her own mother. "You are so getting blogged!"

Later, as Nan-nan was leaving, I could tell she was still lifted by the success of her comedy. "Isn't this pretty?" she said as she wrapped herself in a black fuzzy cloak and picked up her various bags of food and one disturbing bag of a baby doll in a loincloth (he was to be baby Jesus in the Christmas Program). "I got this in Columbus with Gwen when we went shopping..." she dragged her perfectly manicured hands across the cloak's sleeve.

I kissed her smooth cheek and let her out the front door to join my aunt and uncle as they left for the evening and turned to look at my leftover dinner guests.

"I bought that," my mother said with a look of pure astonishment on her face. "I bought that coat last year and haven't seen it since!"

And again, my grandmother left us in stunned silence followed by large peals of laughter.

I'm planning on renting her out for parties.

Any takers?

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Have Yourself a Crappy Little Christmas

Last year's Christmas was horrible, to say the least. Harry and I lost so much, even though I wasn't even sure I wanted it. And yet the world turned, people drank eggnog (for some reason - that stuff is ucky), carols were sung and food was devoured. My family still gathered in Branchland, WV, exchanged presents and called to wish us a "Merry Christmas."

So I vowed last January that the 2008 Christmas would be spectacular. With so many lights that my house could be seen by the little green men on Mars. But as soon as I was filled with the bedazzled holy spirit of Christmas and started making eyes at my husband I knew it was not to be. He whined, he moaned and I cussed, cursed and hit at him. Repeatedly.

Luckily that's all it took to make him lug out our mostly new Martha Stewart "Never Out" tree and begin assembling. He wrestled the bottom from the box, carefully placed it in the stand and plugged it in to behold all of it's pre-lit wonder.

One whole section was dark.

Four green and non-lit branches mocked us and our failing Christmas spirit.

I hopped up from the couch and began a string of curse words that barely ended as I shoved my face into the effeminate face of the Kmart sales guy who offered these helpful words "Oh - you bought it last year? And now it doesn't work? Have you contacted the manufacturer?" I held myself together and managed not to shout "No, dickforbrains, I routinely pull out my pre-lit Christmas trees and plug them in just to make sure they still freakin' work! I mean, EVERYONE does that, right?" And I only barely managed to make it out of the glaringly bright and soul-sucking store without jamming him in the eye with the mascara wands that were right at hand.

"Hey, wait!" Harry was under the tree and was looking very much like the tree version of a gynecologist as he brushed the undercarriage of the darkened limbs. "Ahah!" The branches glowed warmly and lit up my husband's upturned and smiling face. "A light had fallen out!"

So what Martha Stewart meant in her "Never out" claim was that if a bulb burns out the rest will remain lit but if one falls out - you're royally screwed.

But my jolly spirit wasn't done being tried, yet - oh no.

Even though Christmas was not moved, cancelled or anything of the like for my shattered self last year, my cousin's inability to attend Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house means that the whole ordeal has to be moved. And now Harry and I probably won't be able to attend due to other familial obligations.

I'm the Grinch, I tell ya. Before the heart-growing scene.
That's me.
Holly the Grinch.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

My Weak-like Week

A few bits of news to relate and since I'm a girl and we like to make lists a la the "Sparkles" episode of "Southpark" I shall relay my passing events in numerical-form:

1.  After a rather harried trip to NC with his grandmother, Harry returned with the sniffles.  I quickly made funeral arrangements and called the insurance company to make sure I'd get the nice fat check since he's obviously DYING and stuff.   So when  he stood up after eating, walked three steps to the right and let out a belch that lasted for 10.4 seconds I thought my cash cow had come in.  I was pretty sure that was the sound of a dying man... or frog.   Instead he turned to me sheepishly and said, "don't put that on your blog..."

2.  After my sister left my house Saturday night the large water I drank at the movie theater hit me.  "I have to peeee!"  I announced and headed toward the half bath off the kitchen.  "Uh - don't go in that one,"  Harry said while placing a meaty palm on the white door.   "Okay, fine," I said and started to waddle toward the bedroom.  "Uh," he called after me.  "Uh- baby?  I wouldn't use that one either..."
I turned on him and shouted, "For god'ssakes!  If you have to go - use ONE bathroom!  Don't spread it around like some sort of - of - POTPOURRI!"  He then giggled so hard that he added more aromatics to the spicy blend of Harry already wafting around us. 

3.  Harry's congestion means only one thing to me - I'm destined to be beat up as bad as Rocky in any of the Stallone-y movies.   Throughout the night my husband will toss and turn and steamroll me like I'm a lumpy pillow stuck in his path of comfort-achievement.  So in the wee hour of the night on Sunday I am none too surprised, but just as pissed as ever, when I feel a size 13 man foot contact with my thigh.  HARD.  "Godda- all to HELL! That's it - go sleep on the damn couch!!!"  I yelled to my sick husband who sadly picked up his box of Kleenex, blankie and pillow and retreated in a phlegmy fog to the couch in the basement leaving me to rub my leg and pray for death.  His or mine. 

4.  Feeling bad for kicking me like a football in a dead heat, Harry hovered over me last night.  I was grumpy, cranky, mean and just not a happy camper as I beat my pillows with my fist and grumbled into the mattress.  Throughout the night I would wake up and be livid that it was not yet morning. Flipping around, jutting out my knee or smushing a blanket between my knees, my dear hubby would follow my every move and tuck the covers around me.  Like a graceful bull fighter besting the angry burro he would sidestep my sleepily tossed fists and feet and cover up my exposed skins.   For eight hours he was the Spanish dancer and I was the bull in a china shop. 

5.  Harry gleefully relayed his conversation with Autorama today. 
"Can I change my email address, too?" he asked the salesguy on the phone. 
"Sure.  I can do that for you."
"I want to change it to harryshivel@mac, you can do away with the hballs address," Harry relayed to the salesguy. 
"Oh.  Wife take away your 'balls', huh?"  
My husband found this hilarious.  I just wanted to know why he was talking to Audorama peeps and how much it was going to cost me. 

And that's about it.  I'm sure there was more - but I'll save those for the upcoming Thanksgiving post, cuz ya know it'll be a doozy!  

Everyone have a great T-day if you're here in the States - if you're not - well just go out and eat too much and then take a nap - same thing!!!


Monday, November 17, 2008

Infamously Yours...

Huntington, WV is dubbed "Unhealthiest City" 
Holly responds with a resounding: "Pbbbbbbbt!"

For pete's sake. 

Just when WV was starting to kick the hillbilly stereotype and people from the other 49 states were just beginning to recognize us as an actual state and not just "Western Virginia" - then THIS article had to come out and push us back down the rungs of the idiot ladder!

The article, in a nutshell, uses old data to declare my hometown as filled with fat-laden hilljack who prefer to gum hot dogs with their toothless mouths while sneering at "pretty city" folk who drive up in their shiny automobiles! And the (soon to be former) Mayor just nods and grins at the fool reporter who laps it all up like one of Paris Hilton's many tiny dogs!   Mayor Felinton (hereinafter known as "Idiot Boy Who Was Hopefully Misquoted" basically says "Well, you're right.  We're fatsos but c'mon - have you seen how poor we are? And how we have no teeth?  Now there's the real problem. 

Dude. That's like saying "Nevermind the pink elephant in the room - look at the dragon hanging from the ceiling - careful - it'll singe your nostril hair if you get too close!". 

So, my rebuttal is as follows:

Yes, we may be a tubby society, we may enjoy our foods, our deep fried cheese and whatnots, but we'll smile at you while we dab the grease from our chins. We'll hold open the door for you with our meaty mitts if you're behind us in line.  We'll let you merge in traffic as we rev the engine in our giant trucks and SUV's.   
And our grins are genuinely genuine if not orthodontically-challenged.  So I'll take my kinfolk as they are - without the plastic coating that other communities seem to staple to their wallets and bodies.  I'll take real over fake, manners over "mine" and a hot dog, deep fried to a golden brown over a prime rib any day.   

So Huntington, WV is too unhealthy for that "reporters" taste?  
Well then - get the hell out
And don't let the panhandle hit you in the ass on the way out. 



Friday, November 14, 2008

Movie Moochers and Pesky People!

I saw the new "Bond" movie tonight.
I quite enjoyed it even though the evil couple next to me decided to insert their own running commentary!!!
Seriously, it was like a really bad version of "Mystery Science 3000"!

About mid-way through I was seething and barely able to sit still as I flung my chubby legs in the direction of the girl to my left everytime she opened her mouth to interject what was obviously such an important statement that couldn't be left until AFTER the flick, no, it had to be said RIGHT THEN.

You know these people. These are the ones who have to complain, loudly, about the line in the grocery store and then have the nerve to argue over a ten cent off coupon when they're finally at the head. They are the ones who ask the assinine questions just to hear themselves talk. The ones who can't let it go that their candidate lost and the ones who fill your inbox with the smiling angel emails that warn of your immediate death if you don't forward it on in 2.3 seconds.

I know these people.

I loathe these people.

So, as Bond knocked on the door to a beautiful Italian villa the woman next to me said, in a normal, non-hushed voice, "Oh - he was in the first movie!" I leaned over her, my breasts heaving, eyes wild and I clutched at the armrest and said in a loud voice "UH HUH!". I then nodded and grinned at her until she leaned away.

She didn't speak for the rest of the movie and scuttled away as soon as the screen filled with the credits.

So, if you are in line and you hear a loud couple complaining about the rude gal in the theater, yeah, that was me and - I'm sorry.

No. Not really.


Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Feeling Better! And Dirtier!

Sooooo....  we all know I'm a dirty ol' woman, right?
I'm 30 - but still - old. 
Cougar-territory -I'm verging on here, right?
So why am I completely giggly over the video at this link?

Maybe because it has a video of an

Obviously - this is not suitable for work - but for those curious - go click.  
It's the real deal - so to speak...

:)  I would embed it here - but, well, I'm too busy re-watching it at the moment.   

Loved that play, I did...  
hee hee

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Kick me While I'm Down, Why Don'tcha?!

After recovering nicely from my oral surgery, I awoke this morning to find - my insides had been liquified by an ill-advised take out order from THE OLIVE GARDEN IN BARBOURSVILLE, WV!

It is now 1:20 pm and I've been up since 5:00am as a rainbow of colors have appeared of my own making. Not twenty minutes ago I THREW UP DOWN MY OWN SLEEVE. I knew better to recline in the chair and as I struggled to free myself - I didn't make it to the bathroom.

So I covered my mouth and sprayed the carpet and walls with nothing but regurgitated blood-red Gatorade.
I made it to the toilet a bit later only to move from it to the sink as a new problem presented itself inconveniently.

A change of clothes later and a reverse kool-aid stain around my mouth, I am back in my chair, sittting unreclined and gingerly as I wait for the 2 hour mark to approach so that I can check out what color makes an appearance from my innards.

Silver lining? It was every half hour!

Poor hubby had to scrub the carpet while I sobbed in my chair, but that's love, right????

Friday, November 7, 2008

Who you Gonna Call?

Gillian's school pictures came in and although they scanned for crap - I had to share them with everyone so you all can see how completely grown up she's getting!

I only stole two (although I was sorely tempted to cram the whole lot in my purse and run like hell!).

I mean, seriously, am I biased here or is chicky the cutest thing walking 'round WV on five-year old skinny legs???!!!

Well, ya know, everyone says she looks just like me so, ya know, ahem... hee hee

And here's a picture of my dear sis who brought the rugrat of my life to me!

Aren't they just 'dorable!!!

So there's my preachy, gushy, and pride-filled post about the cutie that is Gilly-beans.

Gotta love her.
Or do what she says.
Either way - she'll more than likely whap you upside the head with whatever electronic toy is closest.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Sexy Noodles and Bathing Beauties

Thank you guys so much for all the helpful words of encouragement and for sticking by me through my traumatic surgery. I'm doing much better but still am not totally up to solid foods. Which leads me to today's story.

For some reason, along with my tendency to not be able to sit around and do nothing when I'm hurt or sick, I also get increasingly, um, wanton of physical love.

So yesterday, even though I was sweaty and gross from two days of wallowing in my own pity party, I decided it was high time that Harry molested me. I didn't think that he'd care that I had on no bra, no makeup and that my hair accessory of choice was a scrunchie from the 1980's so I jumped up (translation: I flopped around in the brown recliner until it un-reclined and flung me toward the brick fireplace) stopped in front of him and pulled up the front of my brown, ribbed tank top.

I wiggled, jiggled and giggled and was only slightly surprised that it did not yield the lovenesting session as I had hoped and instead left him gasping for air as he laughed and guffawed from his own respective recliner.

Huffing, I pulled my shirt back down, tucked a greasy hair strand behind my head and stomped into the bathroom. After tending to my business, I stood before the sink and stared at myself in the mirror, frozen with my mouth hanging open and my hands stuck in the flow of the cold water.

I had a mushy pasta noodle stuck to my upper chest.

Needless to say I showered this morning for a good hour just in case other mushy foods were stuck to other parts of my body that I was unawares and would then jiggle in front of my poor husband.


Sunday, November 2, 2008

How NOT to Make Pancakes

There's some fatal flaw in my chemistry that makes me repel against pain and assert a fierce sense of independence when I've been hurt or just been through a surgical procedure.

A few years ago I fell while on campus and broke my elbow, face and my front tooth. Even though I couldn't raise my right arm above my shoulders I still insisted on washing my own hair. Forty minutes later I had lathered up one side of my head and rinsed it out figuring that was good enough. I drove myself to work, blatantly ignoring the hands "at ten and two" rule that all good drivers follow and ran the cash register by using my left arm and asking people to bag their own designer impostor shoes. I made it work and therefore cemented my stubborn streak in place.

However, this morning when I decided I wanted to make pancakes I refused to let Harry help me. I grabbed the mix, the milk (only slightly expired) and an egg. Turning from the fridge I felt the egg fly from my hands as if it had decided to reclaim its birthright and land on the floor in a squishy yellow streak.

When Harry came running in a few seconds later he looked at me, calmly greasing up the griddle, and then to the eggy streak in the floor. Silently he began cleaning up my mess and then took over the pancake making festivities, slowly ushering me to the table and presenting me with first a happy face pancake man (I ate his eyes first) and a heart.

The moral of the story?
Don't try to make pancakes when you're hopped up on pain killers as you can accidentally egg your own house.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Autographs, anyone???

I'm a starrrrr!

If you go to this video at WSAZ you can see me talking to someone about a potential job toward the end of the video right after the dude talks about Minimum wage. I have on a black sweater and headband.

Holly in Action!!!

hee hee

What's the Opposite of a Drug Pusher?

After a rather hectic day yesterday where I awoke late, had a horrible hair day, walked into a pile of work and then got blocked in to the parking lot by a doctor that couldn't be bothered with finding an actual space to park her damn car, I actually welcomed today as a day off.
Even if it did mean subjecting myself to the horrors of oral surgery.

Fortunately for me, but rather unfortunate for my readers, things went off without a hitch and I am now one less Wisdom tooth than I was this time yesterday. I arrived right on time, waited for a short period, didn't even balk at the IV (I know - what happened to my severe needlephobia, right?) and woke up an hour later a lot numb and a little sore.

So now I'm only have two problems.
1. My urine smells like a doctor's office (maybe due to the IV? dunno...)
2. And Harry seems to think that taking my pain pills every three hours as directed is the correct way to dispense my medication! Whatevs!
(sorta #3 - instead of not being able to eat much I have instead been eating on the left side and have been hungry as a whole table full of Hungry, Hungry Hippos. Only instead of gobbling up tiny pellets of white I have been chomping on soup, pasta, biscuits, and anything else I can get my chubby little hands on while mushing them up and shoving them carefully into the back of my left cheek!)

Plus this whole oral surgery thing has been killing the vegetarian streak I've been on! After some particularly horrible encounters with improperly cooked, seasoned, cut meat I gave it up for about a month now.

However, don't get me wrong. I shall not soon be buying hemp bras and shouting "fur is murder!" at every clueless Ugg-boot wearer that passes by, but I have become more selective. I am more a "Selectetarian" rather than a Vegetarian. And I'm loving the cookbook "How to Cook Everything Vegetarian." With pages filled with a complete listing of sides to desserts - it's a great place to find something that will tickle your fancy while leaving the carnivorous part of you only slightly wanting.

Anyhoo - Harry's gone out to get me some gravy and biscuits (I AM WV'ian after all) and we're two hours into "The Good Shepherd" which is kinda like the movie "Breech" - long and boring. But Harry's enjoying it and since he was the one who had to go through the pain of dealing with me after the pain of dealing with my surgery - I guess he deserves it, right?

Have a great weekend everyone and send happy "non-dry-sockety" thoughts my way!!!

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Write or Wrong

Last night I sat down to write out an outline for a new story idea I had. I knew that I wanted to write about a love triangle but not the typical "Girl meets bad boy, girl meets good boy and just can't choose" and we all know she will end up with the cuddly librarian rather than the sleek-suited lawyerman with the silver tongue by page four. I wanted it to be real. So I wrote ten pages in a row, no editing, no backspacing, just writing until I realized - it was boring as hell.
So I closed out without saving.

This is how I've been for a year now.
Writing, flowing, brainstorming, editing and, ultimately, deleting it all.

So now I ask of you - what do you read or want to read?
What's not been written that you want to be written?

Just curious...

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Say What?!

After reading this on my sister's myspace blog, I had to repost it here.
I'm now seeing how having a child can not only be a rewarding experience for the normal stuff - but would also provide a wealth of blog-worthy stuff!

Kids Say the Damndest Things!

Gilly was playin her Shrek Vsmile game while I was cleanin her room up ( she had already done her part, BTW) and she was giving me the play-by-play. "Ok, Momma. Dis is the part wif da games. Options, players and boners."
"And what?"
"Boners. Dhey are hard fings dat you get. When you try hard. To get hard fings"
I just wanted to see how much funnier this could get. " So where do you get the boners?"
"On Shrek?"
"Yeah, on Shrek. Where do you get the Boners?"
And I swear, I felt bad for making her say this but she did, indeed say it. "Where Princess Fiona is. Where its wet. Dats where da Boners are."

And my grandmother was with my cuz and her kids today at Walmart. Nan Nan and Laynie went to the potty and when Laynie was all done she hollered, "Nan Nan! I need you to get in here and wiped my DAMNED ASS!!''
My church-going Nan Nan was shocked! And embarrased! She scolded Laynie and told her that Jesus did NOT like Good Little Girls to talk LIKE THAT!!
"Oh yeah. Sorry. Well, can you please wipe my damned BUTT, please?"
Ya gotta love 'em!

I have laughed until I cried reading this and had to share!!!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Hell is a Wal-mart on Payday...

Tonight was my father's 63rd (? I think that's it - or 64)birthday.  

My sister procured some fine Jim's spaghetti sauce (he can eat the noodles easily with less than his normal number of teeth) while I was to get him a gift card. I picked my aisle carefully as our Wal-mart is incapable of opening up more than four lanes at any given time. I found one in which a lady and her two loud children had piled only aisles 1-4 in the tiny, now fragile-looking buggy. And as I stood there in the line at Walmart (my own version of hell) I realized with a cold horror that my wallet was not in my possession. That it was, more than likely, in the passenger seat of my car and the apple, which I thought I had pulled out of my purse, was snuggled in the bottom of my SAK purse instead - mocking me appley.  

Asking the cashier to hold my purchases (ice cream and a card with a monkey draped in a towel with an inscription that proclaimed "It's your birthday... Go APE SHEET!" on the inside) I ran to the parking lot to get my wallet while weaving and ducking in between the minivans and clunkers that blocked my path. I threw open my car's door and found it sitting guiltily next to my pb sandwich that I didn't have time to eat for lunch. I snatched it up with one hand and ran back into the hellacious mega-atore where I almost had a brush with death as a Granny in a Buick tried to make the crosswalk into her own version of Roadkill Alley.  

I was now "glistening" like a pantiless whore in church and as I rounded Lane 7 I found myself nose to neck of a large sweaty man, his wife, their two buggies and what was roughly the contents of aisles 4-12.  
I huffed, I puffed, I blew my bangs out of my face and then flipped open my pink phone. "Yeah, mom? Tell DAD I may be LATE for his BIRTHDAY!!! Yeah - I'm going to be here for quite some time... Yeah - I know... but he'll have others, right? Hopefully?" Yeah - subtle, I'm not.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

A Dinner with Harry and Meme

Why do I look weird in this picture?

Well, this is the pained expressin that graces my mug after an evening with the Hubby and his grandmother, Meme.

We went to dinner, running like mad to beat the be-sparkled youth of Homecoming weekend and landing in our seats in mere minutes.

And then the conversation starts.
"Meme have you been using your computer?"
Insert four minutes of "What"s and "Huh"s before she finally understands what he's said and Word War I is getting ready to start over a talk about an HP touch screen computer and its attributes.

After dinner, I'm frazzled, but holding up well until Meme mentions that since she couldn't get the mattress off the guest bed she just put the Dust Ruffle ON TOP of the mattress. Harry starts pulling off the comforter and sheets to put it on right and just about the time that he is balancing the pillow-top on his sweaty brow is when little Meme decides to say "Can you flip it? It needs to be flipped, too! I couldn't do it - can you? Flip it? I could've done it myself. Can you? Flip it?"

So Harry, of course, flips out.

I hurry to smooth the edges of the dust ruffle out while Harry bellows and guffaws while clutching the mattress with Meme still calling to him repeatedly to "flip it" and "come here - look what I've done!" while poking a pencil top toward her computer screen.

If one man could spontaneously combust with only the heat of aggravation - then there'd surely be a mushroom cloud over Huntington right now.



Friday, October 17, 2008

Cheater, Cheater, Plastic Eater?

Over a dinner at Max and  Erma's of cheese fries and a salad (oh yeah - it all balances out) Harry and I were discussing an acquaintance who had cheated on their significantly hotter-than-they-deserved other half. 

And that got me thinking about a cat I had named Corey. 

He was - to say it blunt - freakin' weird. 

First of all - he was forty pounds, round as a basketball and loved nothing more than presenting his belly for all the world to pet and then, just when your finger tips would lower onto the purring mound, he'd wiggle, jiggle and lash out at you with his saber-tooth inspired teeth.  

I still have scars.

But I digress. 

Corey was an interesting kitty. He was orange and when we found his scrawny butt at the pound he promptly climbed the backseat of the car, squatted and defecated in the window for all the world to see.   This attitude would prevail for the rest of his life.  
His favorite thing to do, more than eating through the side of a new bag of Meow Mix, was to climb, face-first, into a plastic shopping bag and press his face to the side.  
For hours on end he would lick the bag, pink tongue flipping from one end of the "Wal" to the other side of the "Mart."  We half-feared he would suffocate himself but due to the fact that we liked having five fingers on our hands, we let him lick the plastic bags as he saw fit. 

The vet, when we finally called him, laughed and said "Well, he must be getting something from it that he thinks he needs.  Something his diet is missing."

So is this what people do when they go outside their relationship?
Are they just looking for what's missing?
Trying like hell to find a way to get what they think they need?

Or are they just bunch of bag-lickers?

Thursday, October 16, 2008

In a New York Minute

Another tidbit from our trip:

It had been a long week and, let's face it, with all the walking, the stairs and the just all around spread-outness of NYC, the city is not exactly crippled-friendly, so by the time Friday rolled around, my legs were beyond achy. 

So when we went to Macy's , the crowds, the pushing, the shoving and the hugeness of the store became too much for me, coupled with my aches and pains. 

So we bought my Dooney and Bourke handbag (What?!  I had to have it!) and headed for the heavy revolving door.  I wanted nothing more than to find a cab, find our hotel and find a large influx of Tylenol.

Harry, sensing my weariness and being the good husband that he is
 went before me in the revolving door and, not wanting me to have to exert any strength in the least, decided to push as hard as he could.  Imitating what could only be a Hamster full of speed-laced food pellets on a sideways wheel, Harry ran at full force while I was trapped in the turn-style behind him.   
Helplessly, I crashed against one side of my small glass cage and then against the other as Harry continued to sprint at Mach 10. 

He only stopped when my leg got caught in the door. 

And that, my dear readers, is the day a WVian man was almost killed by a chubby, red-faced woman on the steps of Macy's, the biggest store in the United States  and the happiest place on earth to many credit card carrying fashionistas! 


Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Bird's Eye View of "Equus"

Last week Harry and I ventured to NYC to see Equus - but first - a tidbit from the trip:

Riding the subway can be a scary event. Especially if Harry's in your car. For some reason Harry decided that he was "too cool" to grab the bar so as the car lurched forward, Harry lurched backwards, into the arms of a stranger who looked affronted that a large WVian was now cuddled against his belly. Harry apologized, I cackled and we went on to find the big bookstore called "The Strand." Later, as we rushed to make the shuttle back to Times Square after a particularly wonderful dinner at Michael Jordan's restaurant in Grand Central, I hopped the doors as they were closing, wrapped my hand around a pole and sat my large butt into an orange plastic chair. Harry, on the other hand, was in mid-sit when the car moved with a start and Harry sat down hard - on a guy in a suit.
I laughed so hard that I worried my steak would make a reappearance.

And now for my no-hold's-barred description of "Equus" aka "The Naked Harry Potter Play." If you're offended by frank language and accurate descriptions - leave now or forever hold your peace...


Going to see “Equus” on Broadway was a purely selfish endeavor. I’m not often allowed such luxuries since most of what I do in life is for the benefit of others. Rarely do I allow myself to commit a purely irrational act of selfishness. But going to see Daniel Radcliffe bare his proverbial “magic wand” on stage in NYC was not one I was likely to let get past me.

So when tickets became available I sicced my husband on them like a WV Pit bull on a toddler. And he walked away with not two tickets, but four. On two different nights. The first night was for “on stage seating” – the second – Orchestra - Row N.

This is my account of the first night, Tuesday, October 7, 2008, at the Broadhurst Theater in NYC. Row A. On Stage.

We arrive early and immediately hop in line behind two obvious HPphites. Only after listening to their incessant prattling for ten minutes do we realize that we’re in the wrong line. After being instructed to line up in a different que we find ourselves behind a woman with “Harry Potter” emblazoned in hand-inked loveliness on her jean jacket. I was jealous only because it appeared to me that the boy-wonder himself had scrawled his name on her upper shoulder. Hell, I would’ve handed him a sharpie myself during the play but he was busy getting all naked and stuff. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The theater was small and as we were directed to our seats we were told by a tiny gal I could easily bench press that we’re to turn off our phones, show her and then show the guards, too, that we’ve powered down. After a frantic bathroom break for the man with the ever-shrinking bladder (Harry never used to pee. I swear the boy’s insides floated through the first five years of our togetherness) we were shown to a stage door and then up a set of stairs that, for once, I didn’t mind climbing.

We were dead center, hanging right over the stage. I could see every bit of dust as it landed on the Tetris-shaped platform in the middle of the stage that housed four blocks placed in each corner.

I liked these seats.

The only thing that left much to be desired was that in order to see the action below, one had to roll forward and sit in a semi-kneeling, semi-praying position. Only when my legs ached and my toes tingled with loss of feeling did I dare to move as the pseudo-gay guy next to me was completely spreading his legs next to me as if his package was just that huge that it required plenty of berth in order for them to breathe. “Whatev!” I wanted to scream at him, but instead I leaned into my poor hubby, thanking God he’d already visited the restroom since I was now giving his manparts no room to guzzle oxygen.

The lights dimmed and four men wearing fleshy see-through bodysuits slowly walked out and plucked, in unison, the metal horse heads from around the walls of the stage. The play opened up with Richard Griffiths describing “Alan Strang” and how he came to be a patient of his psychiatric services. Daniel Radcliffe, looking very pale, but trim, and a bit hairy, leaned lovingly against a large man who was wearing the horsey brown velour pants and fleshy brown body suit.

I won’t go into every detail, but I will say that the play has its moments of disturbing, its moments of well-crafted funnies, and its moments of tender as we see the walls around “Alan” break down and his attempts to hide his reasoning for blinding six horses that he worshipped.

Being in a bird’s eye view spot of the actors, I noticed that Daniel as “Alan” spent a lot of time facing us, with his back to the audience at large. This gave me a chance to look for breaks in character, to watch him to see if he was truly someone who was acting for the craft or acting for lack of something better to do. I should’ve known better. I never saw a single crack (so to speak).

The four rectangle blocks that were moved from various spots on the tetris-floor in order to make platforms, beds, couches, chairs, etc. had bits of paint removed as “Alan” picked at them when he sat in uncomfortable silence in his “room.”

Daniel shook at times, he fidgeted, he wrung his hands and bit at his fingers. I noticed a scratch on one of his arms as he raked his nails down its length. He still didn’t break character.
Even when a chubby chick with accidental cleavage was staring him down from the stage tops.

After intermission came the scene where the audience finally finds out why Alan, someone who supposedly loves horses, took a hook and blinded six of them in one night.


As Alan and Jill, a girl who also works at the stable, return from a rather interesting date, Jill cajoles him into coming back to the stable to basically forniacate in the hay.

Alan, who loves horses almost to the point of no return and God-like worship, is not happy with the situation since his pony-friends are in the stalls next door.

And as they stand on either side of the four rectangular boxes pushed together and then lit to look like hay, they begin undressing in a very non-sexy but young-like game of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” The awkwardness is thick in the air as we all think of the awkwardness that is nakedness.

She stands to one side of the “hay” and he to the other. The last to go is her cotton undies and his plain white boxers (I imagine this is to signify the somewhat innocent act of what they are doing – but I’m interjecting my own thought here).
And there was Daniel Radcliffe, not Alan, not in my mind anyway, with a slight trail of hair leading to his dick. And since I promised not to mince words – I won’t. It wasn’t large. From what I could tell, about three inches, but in his defense – he was in front of a large audience and it was cold in there- and I believe he may be still sporting a turtleneck. It was very nice in color, darker pink and well proportioned to him. His testicles were quite grandiose in comparison, evenly distributed and again, well proportioned and not too hairy at all. ☺

And his butt was pretty darn nice and a bit bubbly if not, of course, pale.
So there’s too much information for you.

But you know what? For about 30 seconds I was enthralled with the nakedness but then it was gone. I could only watch with bated breathe as “Alan” came back and screamed and threatened Jill out of the barn when he realized he was upsetting his favorite horse, “Nugget” by attempting to sleep with Jill instead of riding Nugget in his usual sexual frenzy.
Worried and alarmed by what he thought he heard the horses say in their stalls, “Alan” flies around the stage, to each stall and jumped up by planting a foot on the stall door, still naked mind you, and blinded the horses in their stall. What follows is a two-minute scene of horses and “Alan” running around the stage in a blind panic before he collapses on to the blocks in the middle of the stage before the shrink shoes up to cover him up and hold him as he wails in pain.

I was amazed at the raw and powerfulness of the play. And this is when the majority of it was played to an audience in front of me instead of directly toward me.

Wonder if it will be any different when I see it front the proper angle?

We’ll see…

Updated from Tuesday: No – it wasn’t. Wait – it was. It was better.

Curbing your Appetite

It was a day like any other day. I was hungry. It was 9am and I was impatiently waiting for lunch. Since I had a good three hours to come up with something so appetizing it would make the rest of the afternoon speed by, I considered all my options and listed pros and cons in my already filled-too-full brain.

So, logically, I choose Taco Bell.

Unfortunately, so did the girl in the dark green Pontiac Grand Am in front of me.

I pulled in behind her in the drive thru, ignoring the fact that she had obviously pulled in at a very unnatural angle and then watched as she slowly rolled her back tire and rim over the first curb. Feeling embarrassed for her, I did not gape at her through my opened window but instead concentrated on finding the "Mamma Mia" soundtrack on my Ipod.

But as she pulled up to the window I cringed as I watched her wedge the relatively unscathed door panel against the bright yellow pole and then curb her rim again.

I could barely contain my horror as she then grabbed her carb-laden food from the hand of the Taco Bell Staffer and peeled off - rocking her tiny car again by slamming it into the next torturous curb.

Apparently she received her license at "Rock-em-Sock-em Bumper Cars."

Needless to say I gave her plenty of space when I pulled up behind her at the light to exit on to Route 60 lest she confuse my SUV with a high curb that needed to be climbed!


Sunday, October 12, 2008

Back in the Hills of WV

We're back from vacation and BOY am I exhausted!
Even today's activities of sitting on a couch, laying on a couch, eating on a couch, watching tv from the couch and laying back down on a couch was just too much.  I need to take another week off of work to recoop!   :)

Anyhoo - I will have many more details to post later - as well as a few pics - I took very very few since most of the NY spots we visited had strict "NO PHOTOGRAPHS!" signs everywhere and I will also be posting a very detailed post on my two "Equus" experiences.  Some may not be for all eyes but goshdarnit had I not made it to see Daniel Radcliffe in his b-day suit I'd want a more accurate description than "not too big," ya know?  So fair warning on that front, k?

As for when I'll be posting this blog it will more than likely occur after I move this blog to its new home.  I'm planning on tackling that move tomorrow since the big "announcement" occurred right before my vacation and I had no patience to even TRY to attempt a journal relocation when my mind was filled with packing all the necessities - which I did - the only thing I forgot was lotion - so 'scuse me if some of my pics are a bit scaly - k?


I'm off to bed now and I will be sure to let you all know where my new www.home with be.   I have started my own website so I'm thinking about starting fresh from there or figuring out how to point a blog from there to my new blogger blog (which won't really be new it will be this one - wait - what?  I even lost myself on that thought!  :)  ).  So - if anyone has any ideas - I'm open!

Email me or comment me!  h0llyk911@aol.com


Monday, October 6, 2008

Vacation Night One

Howdy folks!  The universe is a teeny thing, ya know?  You can be walking down the street in Times Square, husband clutching your arm like a fever-fueled zombie-man and BOOM! That's when you hear it:

"OH MY GAWD!  IS THAT HOLLLLLLY?!"  Sure enough, Erica, Melissa, two gals I went to high school with in Ona, WV, and another friend were standing in the doorway of Bubba Gump's.   How funny is that?!  We're HOURS away from WV and I run into a gal I've known since neon capris were popular the first time around!   

They were here to see Madonna but came a day too early and were just seeing the sights.  

Harry looked a bit scared but managed to snap a pic of us hanging out in Times Square...

Which will be posted later.

We're back in the room now as it's been a long day followed by the shock and awe of having a room in the Hilton over looking the plays in Time Square and then going to Bar Americain for dinner which wasn't too bad but waaaay overpriced considering my favorite dish was the side of spicy chips and warm blue cheese sauce...

So - off to bed we go!

Tomorrow we will venture underground to the ubercreepy subway and then off to find a comic book store that's supposed to be really neat-o and a book store that's supposed to be 8 blocks long!  I'm sooo happy - I'll be like a fat kid in a candy store.  Then again, I was a fat kid in a candy store today when we stopped in Hershey, PA today and had horrible food, horrible chocolate and just an overall horrible experience.  The fun-loving Reese cup man that greeted us from atop the building, smiling his welcoming plastic smile, seemed to mock us for wasting our time as we grumbled toward the parking lot.  

But - NYC is, so far, great! Expensive!  But GREAT!

I'm not sure how often Harry will be willing to pay for the 'net so it may be some time before I can blog again!

My only regret is that I didn't see if Tylenol made shots so that I could've just directly injected myself with their lovely pain-relieving power...  Ahhh - my feet!   Stupid "bouncing souls" of Doc Martens!  Tomorrow I'm trading you in for some handy Asics Tennis Shoes!!!!

OH - and tomorrow is when I have stage-seating for "Equus."  And seeing as how my sake of modesty is just under that of a French Prostitute's I will be posting everysingle gory descriptive detail that I can muster.

Ye be heartily warned...


                                      Giddy up, ya'all...

Vacation Day One

Hi all!

We've made it to MD and went shopping at some outlets, drove too far to eat at an Italian joint and then spent the night trying not to kill each other over too-fluffy pillows, a blanket that wouldn't stay put and the thermostat!

However, we're still alive and have just filled up on a lovely carb-filled and FREE breakfast of bagels, sausage, bacon, pop tarts, eggs, potatoes and cheese and other lovely sugary and starchy combos!

Now we're off to drive the rest of the way to the Big Apple of New York and hope to make it there in one piece. However, seeing as how we're in the "Executive Center" right off of the lobby and I've managed to fumble the one job I had to do (stapling together the Mapquested pages) by lodging a staple in the stupid stapler I don't see me surviving.  So if one of you happen to be driving by the Interstate between MD and NY and see a lone, sad, chubby gal in an unfortunate outfit of red sweater and bright blue tank, please stop and offer her a ride 'cause she may have just gotten kicked out of a moving SUV!


Saturday, October 4, 2008

How 'bout Them Apples?

Tomorrow morning we pack the car with the laptops, the gadgets, gizmos, snacks, dvd's, cd's, Ipods, cell phones, books, magazines, notebooks, pens, markers, maps, confirmation sheets, gas cards, credit cards, luggage, overnight bags and, if there's room, Harry and me.  

After one overnight stay we will find ourselves once again in the midst of New York City.  Two hillbillies, in desperate need of a vacation, will then attempt to eat ourselves into food-related comas by midnight every night after going on tours, seeing naked people on Broadway, and basically trying to soak up enough culture to last us for the rest of the year.   

And I could really use a vacation.  My life is beyond hectic at the moment and I'm never without the high-pitched "Squuueeeeee!" of the gears of my mind working overtime to attempt to put things in perspective.   And now with this AOL thing.  Grr.  Anyhoo.  I plan on having a good time and coming back with some souveniers, stories, new accessories and at least five extra pounds 'round my ever-expanding bottom.

Wish me luck, send me happy thoughts and I hope everyone has fun this week! I know I will be!


Thursday, October 2, 2008

Well, Screw you Too.

So - AOL Journals is closing.
We've been evicted.
Thrown out.
With less than a month's notice.

It's incomprehensible right now.
I will write more later.
When I'm less mad.

Or more mad.


Sunday, September 28, 2008

Stuff We're Not Supposed to Talk About...

It's a general rule that peeps tend to divulge too much on their blog, so let me preempt this slice of world wide web by saying - if you want to get TMI to a minimum - go 'way now and protect your peepers.   Those of you brave enough to stay - well - lemmie just say "sorry"!!!

So, as you all may have guessed, Harry was gone a long time.  Seven days.  Seven LONG days where I went through a LOT of batteries in my personally operated female hygienic device for want of the dearly semi-departed husband.   And since I tend to be a bit more, um, how shall I put this?  Amped, yes, I'm a bit more amped for carnal lovins than the normal married-for-five-years wife should be I'm afraid that I may have broken Harry along the way. 

Since I'm not much for "love-making" or romance or any of the other stuff that girls sometimes claim to need just because it can be rather hard for some to switch from our internal "to do" list for the house to the internal "to do" list for the significant other.  Me, on the other hand, I can go from 0-60 in five seconds, from Park to Drive in a matter of moments, so it's no wonder that my poor over-sexed hubby is now sitting in the other room, bashing out a Guitar Hero version of a Metallica song and missing every other note.

I mean, after all, he's probably scared to death that I'm going to beat down the door to the man cave and attack him like sex-starved woman at a Romance novel convention.  

Hmm.. Which now that I'm postulating about that - seems like a pretty darn good idea!

Toodles!  hee hee hee hee

                              (Unsuspecting foooooool!)  

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Pictures from my Day

As I was driving up the bridge to get to my parent's house I noticed that the carnival was packing up and all signs of the Fall Fest of Barboursville had been packed up, cleaned up and moved on.   I then noticed something standing on the hill where my Middle School once stood proudly.   The former "Morris Harvey College" turned "Barboursville Middle School" was crudely torn down to make way for a garden and gazebo for the parting mayor to make sure she'd be remembered.

But I digress.

I think someone forgot to pack up one major thing as they scattered last night:

It's not often, I'm sure, that a thirty-foot bulldog is forgotten, I'm sure...

At some point during the day, Gillian, my lovable niece had decided to "borrrow" my phone.  "You can take ONE picture, Gilly - so choose wisely," I said to her.
Here are the several she took instead:

Summer in one of the cool green chairs mom got at a consignment shop.   I'm sure my dear sister was supposed to be doing something else but seems to have gotten distracted by a "Traditional Homes" mag and a mug of coffee.

  The tv looks  possessed!Ahhh - the floor.  How nice.
A cord.   Yup.  That's a cord.

And then, as I was leaving the humble abode of my dear parents I noticed something odd about the house at the end of the alley:

It's demolished!  I have been looking at this house for all of my 25+5 years!  And just like that POOF! It's gone!  Weird...

And finally, a dinner of Bourban Peppercorn chicken and a slightly undercooked veggie casserole for one was how I ended my night:

And since every chair we moved had to first be inspected by a blind Siamese who warbled up a storm and did an unfortunate face plant off the couch on to a rolled up rug, this shot is for him (even if he can't really see it)...
  Sometimes an open paint can causes more trouble than expected...

Hope everyone had a great weekend!

Vocational Questions and Quandries

After another day of moderately hard labor moving armchairs, tables, more tables, more armchairs, some chests, fourteen pictures in frames, two with no frames, and two frames with no pictures, mom and I collapsed onto separate green-printed couches and she asked me, out of the blue, "Do you like your job?"

I was kinda surprised so I said, "I don't know."

I don't really talk about what I do.  I don't really feel the need to.  It's not particularly exciting in most instances and due to confidentiality the funnier stories can't really be  posted on the world wide web.  

I work in Human Resources for a large non-profit Mental Health Center.  I can't make my applicants rich with gratuitous salaries nor do I have the same lining the interior of my pockets.  I enjoy meeting new people, I enjoy talking to them on the phone but the constant threat of doing something wrong or saying something wrong or inappropriate tends to stifle me on more than one occasion.  I'm learning, slowly, to find the balance between being myself and being a representative for the company but I fear that I may never be able to play the corporate straight man.  It's just not me. 

But I do like my co-workers and I do like the human aspects of being in human resources, but I'm still not sure if it's what I'm destined to do.  

How old were you all when you figured out what you wanted to do with your life?  Was it an epiphany at 16?  Or a thought that stuck when getting on the bus at age six?  Was it something that you had no choice due to parental over-control?  Do you yet know what you are meant to do?   And do you worry, too, that some of us were not destined to figure it out in this life, that maybe we were put here on earth as human fillers for the world in order to make those of concrete mind and determinate ways to flourish?

As for now, I am still liking my job.  I'm not in love with it, but I think I could be.   Like an arranged marriage in a far off land, I hope to grow to love it... or to at least never loathe it in the way I did when I was a receptionist at the "Law Firm that shall not be Named."


Saturday, September 20, 2008

Notes from a Day at the 'Rents

1.  Pick up lunch for everyone.  Sit back and watch as my mother takes each chicken sandwich and poke her long, skinny finger in each to find the one she wanted as she simply cannot bare to eat a lumpy chicken sandwich.

2.  Take chairs from the kitchen to the tv room, arrange them only to find out that Gillian wants to eat in the kitchen and I've stolen her only chair.   Take the chair back.  Put it in the "wrong place" and move it as instructed by a picky five year old holding a mini "Elphaba" doll from McDonald's in her tiny dimpled hand.

3.  Try to eat lunch while mom regales story after story of "Times when Ben gets hit in the head."  Gabe, the lovely youth who helps mom and dad out stops in mid-bite of his sub to say, "He does seem to get hit in the head a lot..."

4.  Mom insisted that an eight foot long skinny table would fit in her tv room.   Summer and I dragged it in through the back door, past the pile of expensive cat food, through the late 19th century mini-door and into the tv room.  "Try it there... or maybe over there." She pointed and paused and pointed and paused and when we didn't move fast enough she would position her tiny arthritic frame next to the furniture in question and grunt as she jammed it with her (easily breakable) hip.   Many times I had to threaten her life - for her own good, of course...

5.   Put down a gorgeous rug.  Pick it up.  Put down a different rug.  Rinse, repeat.   

6.  "GILLIAN! WHAT IS THIS?! OH GOD!" was heard from the living room. I stopped in mid-comb of Silver the Cat and looked up to the doorway to see mom holding a baggie containing a greenish gray blob by the tips of her fingers.   She was gagging and wretching and ran, as fast as she could anyway, to the kitchen.  The smell lingered in the air and wafted around us, enveloping us in a non-visible green fog of ick.  Mother made her way back to the other room, armed with an industrial strength cleaner. Gillian followed.  "Did you do that, Gillian?"  mom asked her.  "Noooo.. it was Momma!"  Summer busted out laughing at her daughter blatent improving of the truth.

7.  "What are you making, Gillian?"  I asked my gorgeous brown-eyed niece as she swirled her paint brush in the trays, making them all the same brownish-black color.     "A mess," she replied, without missing a beat.

8.   Go to grocery store and manage to stay pace with a mother whose two kids insist on beeping the horn of the car stuck to the front of the buggy the whole time.  I picked up canned corn. BEEP BEEP!  I contemplated bread choices.  BEEP BEEP!  I inspected eggs.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! It took every ounce of my power not to toss the BEEPIN' eggs at the BEEPIN' kids.

9.  Home now.  Happily eating cookies and watching tv.   Too tired to make dinner.   Will instead eat more cookies and watch more bad tv.  Until I have to go back to the 'rents tomorrow and start the cycle all over again.   

Wish me luck!

Friday, September 19, 2008

Like Mother and Lord Help Us, Like Daughter...

  Sorry it's so small  - I've yet to master my scanner... :)

Help - I'm stuck.

Harry left yesterday to do a week-long (weekend-included) detail in Whothefrickcares, WV and now I'm all by my lonesome. 

So far on this Friday of Loneliness, I've learned:

1. Three-day-old Fettucine Alfredo does not stand up well to microwaving.   The resulting cakey goo would be better suited for replacing mortar in most brick and mortar houses, leaving only the slight smell of cheese for the inhabitants.

2.  Reading the end to a wonderful book that evokes tears upon the flipping of its last page is never a good idea to the perpetual lonely ones.    But, if you're feeling brave, go buy "Love Walked In" by Maria De Los Santos" and try NOT to sob a bit - k?  Unless you're made of stone (or three-day-old fettucine) and then - never mind.

3.  Have a plan in mind for the dinners to come so that you don't end up sitting in your kitchen, hastily typing on your old laptop and wondering if a Cherry Pepsi and a handful of nuts could really constitute enough for a "dinner."

4.  Be well aware that the weekends of weekends past that seemed to speed by on a dead-heat race to end will now mock you cruelly as Friday night seems never-ending.  

5.  Coming home to a dirty house that could be dusted, cleaned, straightened, mopped and vacuumed is really not worth the time it would take away from moping.  :)


                                   (oh yeah - and now I'm eating a pot pie!)



Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The term "Waiting Room" should be called "The Impatient Patient Room"

I went today for my Wisdom Teeth extraction consultation and, once I found the darn place (stupid piece of sh- shoddy circuitry GPS, Gross Piece of -uh- Crap) I walked up to the sunny receptionist and noticed that her desk - was plywood. 

This can mean one of two things.
1.  The oral surgeon undercharges which means YAY for my wallet
2.  The oral surgeon's attention to detail is not very - uh - detailed.   Which frightens me and my "sockets."

"We're on an hour wait time..."  the woman said apologetically and, as all smiling people tend to do, she won me over. 

I settled into an uncomfortable seat, pulled out my wonderful book "Love Walked In"  (No, really - it's great - you'll love it - go get it! The rhetoric alone will make you love words like you've never loved them before! Ahem...) and started to read.

And that's when the Patients from Hell entered.   Straight from the movie "Idiocrasy" a large woman in unfortunate jean shorts and Nike's from 1989  loudly entered the area and was followed by a tiny girl and a matching tiny boy.  A small child blathered between them and I started a bit when I noticed that oh my heavens that was their daughter.  Yup, the youngin's had sprouted a youngin.  I doubted that their combined ages could have compared to my 25+5 years. 

I decided to ignore them for dwindling on the unfairness selection of life and the unfortunate dying out of Natural Selection was too much to bear witness to in the waiting area of an Oral Surgeon.

"Hey you!" 

Uh - apparently I would be called to witness after all..

"Hey you!"  The jean-shorted lady wiggled a dirty (ew.) tissue in my direction to get my attention.   I looked up at her and said, "Yes?"

"Who you here to see?"  she rolled in her seat so that she was leaning in my direction.  I tried not to stare at her oddly tinged hair or the balloon tattoo that snaked up her ankle that bore at least ten names.  Coldness washed over me as I realized that the balloons, the fleshy, multi-colored balloons, bore the name of her offspring and that this woman, this woman of unfortunate dress and manners was single-handedly (well- almost) trying repopulate the earth.  Or WV at least.  

"Dr.  Gonnapullmyteefers," I said.

"Yeah.  He just left for lunch," she said and then she sat back and waited.

I'm not sure for what.
I guess I was supposed to have some sort of violent reaction but all I could think was "Man's gotta eat."

I blinked at her and she went on to assault the woman to her left.   "MAN!  This weather does a number on my sinuses.   My whole body really." And damned if she didn't run a reddened hand down the front of her to caress her frontal regions. 

An hour and a half later I'm finally in the big dental chair.

"Thank you for waiting," my tall dark-skinned doctor said to me in a soft and kind voice. 

"No problem," I said.  "And I expect a discount," I added in my head.

After the exam and his decision to only remove one of the three useless teeth that grew in my mouth, we talked about birthdays and it turns out he was also born on September 11th. 

"I can't really celebrate my birthday on September 11th," he said with his middle-eastern tinged voice and with a small smile on his face.  "People see me walking around, smiling, on September 11th and think 'TERRORIST!'" 

I didn't want to laugh - but it was pretty damn funny and after being accosted in the waiting room by a tatooed earth re-populator I was overdue for a laugh.  

So - good news:  I only have to have 1 wisdom tooth out of the three removed.

Bad news:  I have to have 1 wisdom tooth out of the three removed.

                                 Young Holly is not happy about upcoming oral surgery...

Friday, September 12, 2008

Surprise! My husband's a sneaky lil' bastard....

I awoke on the morning of my 25+5 b-day to the feeling of a man hand stroking my back and sleepily muttering "Happy Birthday... Happy Birthday... Happy Birthday..." Which, of course, is wonderful, but maybe not at 4:30am, hm?
Soon after the alarm goes off and I pop out of bed only to be accused of being the bestower of bad dreams as I had apparently forced Harry out of my life and into a studio apt in Boston in one of his few and far between dreams of active over-imaginationland.

Then comes a long day of phone calls and meetings which finally ended with me feeling very much my newly acquired 30 years.  

I went home, piled on some more eyemake-up in attempt to look more awake at dinner and dragged myself to Harry's car.   He'd already made us late by forgetting to lock the door and  having to go back and do it again and then he was pulling up in front of "Blackhawk" (hee hee) and taking his time parallel parking.  

I snapped.  "Oh forgodsakes!  Go up there! Park up there!  No wee-wawing into a space just GO UP THERE!"  Which he did since I was the birthday girl of cheer (or something).

We walked into the restaurant and ran into our neighbors and chatted for a bit while Harry kept tugging on my arm.  Seriously - if my purse would've been heavier I would've socked him with it.  Repeatedly.  And with chubby-girl gusto.

Finally the hostess takes us through the front room, the second room and kept walking to the back room. I was BEYOND annoyed.  There were PLENTY of other seats in the other rooms where I could sit and eat my bday steak but NOOOOO lil' miss "I buy my pants at the kid's store cuz my ass is THAT tiny" had to take us all the way to the BACK.

Harry lagged behind and as we stepped through the threshold I noticed my very tall friend Mike standing there.   I turned around to ask Harry if he knew Mike and Meghan were going to be here when the ENTIRE ROOM ERUPTED INTO SONG and pretty much added another twenty years to my already aging heart.  

As my closest friends, family and loved ones sang me a "Happy Birthday" - I just kept repeating "Well - HI!"  
I was shocked.
I think I almost ran at one point.

We ate like kings, made fun of each other, ate some more and had a wonderful time.

Apparently Harry had been planning my Surprise 25+5 birthday since June.   He had a cake made from my favorite local baker (with 25+5 on it) and special menus at each place setting (with 25+5 on them).  My steak was like butter, my cake was like a dream, and my Harry was the man of the hour.

A sneaky lil' bastard of a man, but still...

                  (This is the front entry of Blackhawk)

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

XXX Things to do Before I Turn 30 - RECAP

Three years ago I posted a "must do" list on this exact blog.

Here it is, and on the eve of my 30th birthday, I provide updates!

Things To-Do

(Before I’m Thirty!)

1. Learn to play a musical instrument (a tambourine does NOT count)

-->Okay - I learned three chords on a baby blue guitar and promptly forgot it - but i counts - right???

2. Learn to speak a foreign language - conversationally

-->um, Three years is a really short time to learn the language of a whole other culture...

3. Own at least one pair of shoes that are comfortable at all times.

-->I own six!   My Coach Valeri ballet flats are so great that I own two pairs of each style!

4. Be able to shop at a grocery store without fear and anxiety of produce and soccer moms.

-->I still maintain that grocery stores, and their ever-increasing size, are scary places to go alone...  One can get lost in the frozen foods section alone!

5. Find that perfect shade of lipstick.

-->Kat VonDee from "Miami Ink" (tv show) came out with a line of cosmetics and a perfect shade of rust that worked with my lighter and now my darker hair!  Score one for Holly!

6. Learn yoga.

-->I did pilates. Once.

7. Read at least one best-seller a week.

-->Meh. Maybe one a month!

8. Designate one corner of one room as "all mine."

-->I took the third floor instead.  Booyah!

9. Write a book.

-->Wrote, re-wrote, started, re-started and re-re-wrote...   I'm too picky...

10. Learn to burn a dvd.

-->I haven't yet, but I know I can.  Same difference.

11. Learn to work my pink Ipod Mini.

-->Got a new one and stuck my pink mini in the bottom of a deep, dark drawer.

12. Learn to knit/crochet/needlepoint - and have end results recognizable.

-->No, but I just bought a new sweater!

13. Grow a tomato.

-->I had some home-grown tomatoes the other day.  With home-grown worms in them.  I'm good for a bit...

14. Figure out what I want to be when I "Grow-up"

-->A fairy princess?

15. Watch the Indiana Jones movies.

-->I now completely see the draw of Harrison "I'm a hottie with no shirt on" Ford.

16. Be able to wear a tank top in public without fear of others seeing my jigglies and jubblies.

-->Nope. I just don't care if my jigglies and jubblies are seen now.  

17. Go to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />London - see Big Ben.

-->Nope.  So sad.

18. Pet a koala bear.

-->A stuffed one?

19. Volunteer.

-->I do stuff for my mom for free all the time.  That's GOTTA count for something...

20. Make Harry Kirby, a cartoon based on my hubby, into a real comic strip.

-->I made Harry a Harry Kirby for our anniversary.  Good 'nuff.

21. Quit my job.

-->oh HELL YEAH I quit that job!!!!

22. Find a new job that doesn’t require an IQ in the gray area to exceed at it.

-->I'd be doing a lot better at my current job if my IQ was a little higher and my memory was a little longer and my patience was a lot longer...  :)

23. Paint a mural on a wall in my house - make sure hubby is still breathing - finish said mural.

-->I painted three bricks of color on either side of my fireplace.   I think that counts!

24. Face a fear (ex: heights, falling, grocery stores, organized fun, wal-mart, spiders, bees, lawn-care…)

-->I may have faced a fear or two - but I'm not sure if any of them are worthy of blog-time...

25. Learn to make my own pasta.

-->Go to grocery store.   Avoid Soccer Moms and Cart-toting Grannies.  Grab pasta from shelf.  Run through Uscan.   Run like the wind!  :)

26. Learn to bake a cake - from scratch.

27. Learn to decorate a cake - with all the tricks and tools of the trade.

-->I can now bake a cake from scratch - but I don't see the point.   And as for icing it - it's never been easier: "Harrrrrrryyyyyyy!  I neeeeeeed your hellllllllllllp!"

28. Learn to do crosswords - without cheating.

-->Why on earth did I find this important???

29. Watch at least one foreign film a month.

-->I watched "The Dreamers" the other night. It was shot in France.  There were a few subtitles and a bit too much genetalia for a normal film that didn't have Jenna Jameson on the cover!

30. Learn to be happy with who I am, ‘cause I am what I am ( Popeye?)

-->  Still working on this one.   Maybe by the time I'm forty???




Sunday, September 7, 2008

Happy Hollydays and Hollyweek to meee!

Today is the Sunday before my birthday which means that I get allllll this week (up until Thursday) to be alllll about me!

And I'm starting it off with ordering something from this fun website!

Perpetualkid.com!  I love it!

I like the smelly pencils, the PlayDoh cologne and the men with balls magnets!

AND I like the toast clock, too!

This place is too fun (even if it wouldn't let me paste pictures into my blog!)

Any suggestions as to what else I should order?!

Happy Hollydaze!!!!