Random Tuesday Thoughts - yanno, this is my favorite part of the week, as far as blogging goes. I get to ramble on about nothing really, and people pretend (my fantastic 23 followers) to show interest... And some even comment! It does wonders for the stuckinthehousealldayandallnight EGO and I'm perfectly comfortable rambling. It's a "forte" of mine. (Gettin all fancy on ya, bet you didn't see that one coming!)
I'm going to admit that I've been keeping a RTT note pad. Ok, it's not really a notepad per say, but I do scribble notes and jot down thoughts on the back of an envelope. Hell, I have a slew of blog envelopes, one for each day of the week. I've decided to pick a new bill for each day of each week to draw all over and scribble on. Makes me feel better about paying the bill that's inside in some sort of way. Plus, this way I've always got fresh ideas. These are pretty much in chronological order, as they really happened, because you won't find any lies and false shit here folks. Because that's.how.I.roll.
Last week Andy, feeling sorry for me because I couldn't seem to get rid of that hacking, nagging cough, brought me home a surprise. Colloidal Silver Classic. He tells me to take a teaspoon of this liquid metal and put it under my tongue for 1 minute, then swallow. I'm not sure if it was mind over matter or what, but the next morning I felt FANTASTIC! I was even in a good mood, and mornings and I usually don't get along very well. Andy of course thought it would be a neat experiment... I would have to bow down to his feet because HE brought me the two week long lougie-hacking remedy, not to mention he thought I'd be shittin' nickles. He only wanted his initial $21 investment back for the tiny 4 oz bottle. I completely understand.
I'm back to work right? Kinda. Well, I'm part-time, mostly because the great doctors at one of our local ER's (the one where I once made sooooo much money it hurt people's feelings) figured out that instead of spending hundreds of thousands of dollars a year on a transcription service, they could just invest in a point-and-click piece of shit software and completely ruin my life. So now I'm stuck doing stupid discharge summaries and transplant institute reports. Bleh! Anyway... I got my first paycheck since I had been back and it was a measly $200. WTF man! I think I got ripped off or something. Surely the account lady screwed up. Surely.
Andy occasionally looks at my blog at work, on lunch of course, because he wouldn't want folks to think that their hard earned tax dollars are going to a plethora of bookmarked pages for his enjoyment. He looked at one entry I made last week and tried to be sneaky and comment. Bahahahahahaha, it didn't take because he is not a blogger. I told him you have to have special woman powers and go through an excruciatingly painful interview by a panel of Xanax-free, hormonal women to be able to post. Then I added him as an author to this blog. Warning: Watch out for random Andy thoughts. He might sneak in here.
This weekend, I think it was Sunday evening, Andy and I were sitting in front of the boob tube and watched One Missed Call. It's supposed to be a scary movie, but it's pretty stupid. Basically, someone dies and right after they die, a "contact" of theirs from their cell phone is called from a future date and leaves a scary message, indicating their death is next. Right in the middle of the movie, and the futuristic death calls, my cell phone goes off. It's a text. Needless to say, we were a bit freaked out. AND it just happens to be one of my life long best friends, who Andy isn't that fond of. I should be dead by 7 pm today, according to the storyline.
I'm not sure if many of you are "blended families" or not. Yanno, step kids kind of blended. We are. And every time the oldest, my bio kid, the 15 y/o, goes to her dad's for the weekend and I have to endure the 2-hour long convo about how she hates her step-mom upon her return. She doesn't really hate her. She just listens to her older sisters over there bitch about her, so naturally, she thinks the step-mom is evil. I try to even the playing field and stand up for the step-mom, even though I'm secretly laughing inside... because I'm better... at everything... but for the sake of argument (with bio-dad) and respect for their household (pfffft, as if), I do what I can. One thing I'm particularly happy about is that she (the step-mom) can't cook. The 15y/o, Nisha, hates her step-mom's cooking. I love it when she comes home and tells me how horrible her food is. But this weekend was different. Nisha comes home and tells me she had the most fantastic salad ever. "It was the best salad of my life mama!" Ex-ca-use ME! Biting back my sharp tongue and cynical look, I listened and smiled. "She puts strawberries in her salads mama!" Whatever. Sounds gross to me. And my salads are WAY BETTER!
I'm completely addicted to Sims 2. If you don't know anything about it, don't look it up. It's dangerous. I played that game from 2 pm yesterday until 2 am. TWELVE FREAKIN HOURS! I declared it a left-over night and never stepped away from the laptop screen (except for the 30 second bathroom trips). In any event, I managed to virtually kill Andy and I (because I created us as characters). We started out with no kids, he knocked me up twice and we raised them. Then all of a sudden, out of no where, I can't get us to get out of bed. We aren't doing naughty things in there either. Sickos! We are just sleeping. And we can't get up. Nothing I click on works. I think my Sim actually pee'd the bed. I killed us. So then Nisha wanted to play and I helped her create a Sim. Because she's just a beginner, she did it all wrong, and now all her Sim wants to do is make babies. Ack! I'm teaching the kid, the hormonal teenager, how to MAKE BABIES! Anyway... at 2 am, everyone in our REAL house is asleep (at least I thought they were) Andy comes down the hall, takes one look at me all snuggled up on the couch, eyes beet red and plastered to that screen and says, "Ok, you are officially a loser." Sims 3 comes out in June. I need rehab.
And finally, yanno how when a kid pukes sometimes it just flies out of their mouth and ends up 4 feet away. I always wondered how that happened. Like, what mechanism in their throat and mouth causes them to shoot puke that far away. I was awestruck. Until today. I'm minding my own business in the kitchen, getting Big K some apple juice, and having a normal morning. I have another one of those damn coughing fits and all of a sudden, out of flipping no where, I hurl! And not just puke a little bit in my mouth kind of hurl, where I can cover my mouth and charge to the bathroom toilet before spewing. This was pro-jec-tile! I turned my head just in time for the monsoon of Pepsi to come rushing out of my throat! It hit the back of my top teeth, which somehow guided it right into the kitchen trash can. It was like when you turn on the faucet and magically a steady flow of water comes flying out. Let me tell you, there is no wretching and body curling like with normal puke. This was just a steady, even flow of regurg-Pepsi. Like at the fountain drink station at 7-Eleven. Totally gross. All I could do was stand there for a few seconds to process. I.just.puked.a.tsunami. Then of course I took out the trash and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Yuck! On the positive side, there was no acid taste, like something was eating the enamel right off my teeth.
Ok, your turn. Go on over to Keely's at The UnMom, snag the button, hook up with Mr. Linky and post your RTT. I'll be back later to make sure you have done it.
And NO... I'm not going to play Sims. I'm doing homework. Nosey.