Making a list and checking account

So my daughter gave us a Christmas list but then for a school project she had to write a letter to Santa. This letter had all new stuff.

Dear Santa,

Do you need help cleaning your sled? I know I've done some bad things to my little brother. But I said sorry. Sometimes he would be having so much fun he wouldn't notice and just keep laughing. But I've still been good a lot.

Please get me these things. A Golden Retriever puppy (who likes cats), an I-Dog soft speaker, an Apple (she added the TM symbol next to it) laptop, WII Fit, Guitar Hero, giant pencil, more snow, a cell phone, that my fish and snail won't die, that Maya (my cat) will go to the vet, a mini statue of liberty and the best Christmas EVER!

So reading between the lines “he would be having so much fun he wouldn’t notice” Like if you’re tickling someone and punching them at the same time? Or slapping him and feeding him M&M’s? Not quite sure what she meant… I also enjoyed that my fish and snail won’t die because she could have written, don’t let my mom murder anymore of our sea creatures. As for Maya this cat has had more surgeries then Joan Rivers and I am dry of cat surgery money for her new “foot tumor”. I know report me (I’m sure if it gets bad enough I let the kids starve to fix the 14 year old cat).Giant pencil and mini statue of liberty I guess it could have been reversed a giant statue of liberty and a mini pencil. Oh and a dog, a dog that me, myself, and I would be outside in the 2 degree weather begging the pup to poop. Anyway Santa and I are in trouble because these are not the things we went over originally maybe he could put some scratch off tickets in her stocking or a T- shirt that says “I asked Santa for merchandise that was valued over $2,000 and Bush screwed me over with this dumb old T-shirt!” I’m stilling weighing my options…

No pain no gain

Ok so I finally get to see the doctor after having the breast tests done. She says that they will aspirate the cyst again then use something else to remove the tissue so both can be biopsied (is that a word?) and it can be done right now in the office. She leaves telling me she will get the nurse to set it up. When the nurse arrives back in she is carrying a large sword, or whatever it’s in a package and it’s got to be 1 ½ to 2 feet long. I’m like hey what’s up with that light saber and crap. She says it’s scarier than it looks (hello never heard that one before). She sets up her stuff then leaves. She and the doctor arrive back and the doctor says sorry for the scary instrument and I said something like well if two people didn’t have to carry it in I wouldn’t be a worried. They both look at each other with the look like I’m going to be trouble, like at this point I’m going to jump up, with my gown opened to the front not tied, and tell everyone to stay back and no one touches my complex cyst. I will then request they give me a head start and don’t try any funny business (I’ll need the head start because I’m taking the elevator because I’ll be too amped up for stair work).Anywho that doesn’t happen (shocker) and the doc precedes to tell me that she’ll numb me up and use the sword of Gryffindor to remove tissue, oh and that it makes kind of a jarring sound when used. I guess I would describe it as a nail gun noise and it works similarly but in reverse yanking out the stringy booger sized tissue and she does this action maybe 5 times. They pat me on the hand like a three old and tell me I did a great job. Get this instead a lollipop or sticker… she gives me some painkillers. So you know I don’t drink so my tolerance is a little low but I’m concerned my booby’s going to hurt so I take one. I’m good, a bit lightheaded, lightheaded a funny word because really I’m not aware of removing a head because it was just to heavy to carry around so I guess aren’t all of us in a sense lightheaded?…of course now that I say this I’ll see a documentary on TLC about cranium reassignment. It’s the second time I take one that I feel even more at ease let’s say. So at ease that at one point I thought a bear was in my room and because of my vast knowledge of nothingness I play dead. You know no sudden movements and all. After sometime passes I start to think it through the odds of a bear coming into a house in the suburbs coming upstairs then heading down the hall to the last door… ok so I guess maybe I overreacted a bit because come to found it was just my hair in my face ha-ha painkillers… Test results next week, let’s hope I pass.

Who Cares?

So my husband and my brother-n -law have this fascination with me because I haven’t had anything alcoholic to drink in the last 17 years. I usually puke if I drink so I also try never to put my finger down my throat, sky dive, eat squid, ride the tilt-a-whirl, sniff paint thinner, or stick carrots in my nose, I just know it won’t work out well. Also in 17 plus years I haven’t worn blue eye shadow, bought Aqua Net, dreamt of marrying Eddie Van Halen, worn Nike high tops, said Bitch’n, used Sun In, watched Love Boat, cried over Matt Dillon, dialed a rotary phone, or used a hanger to zip up my Jordache. But no one seems to care about that. The best part is the two of them think they can peer pressure me into drinking, are we 13? And if I do succumb to their childish pleas who will be driving me to the hospital so I can get my hangover I.V., then take care of dinner, laundry, and what not, those two…ha-ha I think not, no wait I know not…Nice try my pubescent dweebs…I must run I have to purchase the new wrinkle eraser all the 40 year olds are doing it...

Mamm'ow'gram

So my after school special “Mommy found a lump” continues because it didn’t go away. This is lucky for me because I got to experience my first mammogram. A very kind lady semi molests you into manipulating a part of the body that seems to be resistant to finagling. Then she vices the molded area and takes a picture. This continues on as she maneuvers me into odd positions and I tell her that even a filet mignon dinner wouldn’t get her this much action. Oh and the stickers that are placed just so that once adhered are second skin and removing them are a pleasure. Then onto to ultrasound, that’s easy breezy. Then results time where you get to see your glamour shots and when looking at the ultrasound I ask if that’s my unborn twin because I think I can make out a foot or a toe. You know when you're pregnant and they're showing you the ultrasound pictures and the doctor is like “there’s the nose, see it, right there” and you are like yeah because you don’t want to been seen as non maternal freak, right? Where was I? No I guess it’s not my psychic twin that feeds me supernatural powers, it’s something they are calling debris or tissue but won’t know until they biopsy. In conclusion I have want you call a complex cyst, in telling my mom she said what’s that mean? I said that it’s not easy? And if you know me I like the easy way much better. That’s why fast food was invented correct?

Why yes this is my natural color

My naturally curly locks have been blown straight into what I call my “Charlie’s Angels” do. Where when my locks are coiffed just so, I seem to move in slow motion but turn on a dime at any moment, so that I may swing my silky strands over my shoulder and utter some sexy slow-mo words. Also, perhaps in the middle of a conversation, I may yell out “freeze” and tackle someone because I’ve took an oath to protect and serve. Carrying a wind machine helps too so at all times it looks like I’m shooting a major music video. Daydreaming is also a big part, thinking how I can rescue someone on the beach in the Midwest in wintertime…or when my 4 year old is screaming bloody murder about the melted Hershey kiss that is in his hand that my assistant will be right with him because I’m debating about a rescue involving bungee jumping, because I think that will get me the ultimate hair experience. But through it all I believe I stay grounded I always remember the great Jaclyn Smith quote “Angels are like diamonds. They can't be made, you have to find them. Each one is unique.” Too true to true…

The Big 4 oh my lord...

*Where my gray hairs out number thoughts in my head
*Where my facial features have slowing come to meet my chin, leaving me looking like a sock puppet (now I know who wrote “do your ears hang low?”)
*Where my skin tone is about as vibrant as a newspaper
*To achieve the youthful glow it now involves a stick of butter, the correct lighting, and touch of alcohol for the people I might be chatting with
*Where my “fun size” candy dependence has attached “woeful weight” rolls in places I was unaware of
*Forgetful is now the ninth dwarf…I mean eighth…oh crap I don’t remember
*My son says 40 is the new thirty but now that he has his drivers license his brown nosing is at a new high
I’m sure there is more but I have a brain cramp from exerting all this energy and I still have to go shopping for my mom jeans, hot rollers for my new hairdo, and get to Bingo- I think its my lucky night.

They like me they really like me!

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The new "Michael"

As I sleep in my migraine induced coma, yesterday its 62 degrees then we drop to 40 degrees; my tiny brain can’t take it! Whoops- skip the tiny brain for ginormous genius mind. Anyway I thought how many babies in the upcoming years or longer will be named Barack? Will we have a Barack Smith or Barack Rivera? Or perhaps as generations go by a Barack Bush? I need to send this story idea to CNN or MSNBC since all have been jumping on the “new puppy” story. What kind of breed, what will they name it, who in the family will scoop, open adoption or closed, long haired or short? Blah blah blah

Change

HOPE

Halloween hauntings

So believe it or not but I did not scarf down a surplus of candy Friday night. I thought I would pile in the pizza instead, hopefully preventing the uncontrollable desire for the bite size yummies. Of course this still had the same effect as if I ate the candy, crap is crap. It’s a pleasurable diet plan, gorge and within an hour it will all come out one end or the other. I’m an unintentional bulimic, I’m irritable bowel on steroids, and as tiny gnomes punched my delicate tummy I swore to the heavens (as I do each time) that I will change my eclectic eating habits… and leave better reading materials in the bathroom, it sucks to be stuck in there for hours reading shampoo bottles and toothpaste labels. As I write this all I can think of is Kit Kat’s and peanut M&M’s… what is it they say you forget the pain of child birth and self induced stomach strains (also known as S.I.S.S), whatever gets me through…