Uncultured much?

No other electronics store I enter will ever compare to the one Head Thing introduced me to the other night:  Fry’s Electronics.  O…M…F…G… Huge does not even begin to describe this place. 

Upon entering the store I think I turned a few heads, not realizing how loud I was.  As soon as we walked in there is a huge ass fish tank floor to ceiling.  “Whoa, fish tank!” Yes, I actually squealed that in a high-pitched voice, I could have shot myself.  As I approached, “whoa there’s a shark!”  Still just as excited, but a little less nails on chalk board this time.  As if I have never seen these things before, right!  I’m easily entertained, what can I say, that, and I don’t get out much.

We spent what seemed like an eternity in that store.  Who couldn’t though, it was amazing!  After walking the majority of the store we went to go get in the check out line. 

I shit you not when I tell you this store has 70, yes 70, freaking registers.  Not a single one of them was open.  No joke.  The line grew to about 20 people before someone came up to the front of the line to let us know they were rounding up employees to come work the registers.  Baffled.  They put a neanderthal bigger than a bouncer at the exit to make sure you're not going anywhere without paying, but Gods forbid the store provide a way for the customers to pay...I feel like we're being set up for failure.

To my dismay, people just don’t get me, or they are uncultured.  My spouse hands his card over to pay for the merchandise.  The gentleman behind the counter gets the receipt and hands it to my hubby, “ok, I just need your John Hancock.”

Me and my constant movie referencing blurts out. “John Hancock, it’s not John Hancock…it’s Herbie Hancock.”

The dude looks at me as if I am wearing the helmet Head Thing promised to buy me,  “Herbie Hancock?”

“Seriously, you can’t tell me you haven’t seen Tommy Boy, come on,” I rebuttal.

“Ahhhh, hahaha.” The realization hits him.

Yeah dude, if I have to explain it to you, its lost its luster.  Better luck next time.  <Fold my arms and pout, this blows, my joke lost in the sea of cluelessness.>

Ode to a Queef

WARNING:  Content not for the faint of heart, or those easily offended.  If you do not possess a sense of humor, redirect to another page immediately, do not continue reading.

Over a year ago I promised my next post would be about queefs.  Well, I’m finally delivering…only a tad bit late.

I know I cannot be the only woman out there with this problem.  Especially after pushing out Thing 1 and Thing 2, I just don’t think the ole vaginal canal is what it used to be.  So, a while ago I wrote down some thoughts on the issue:

Who even came up with the feasibility/idea for a queef?  Seriously, farting aloud is already embarrassing enough.  No, give us women two holes, one that smells like shit when it sings, the other like fish.  Not to mention the relative sound to motor boating. (Yes, a third whole exists, I know this. Pee hole, Glee hole, and Do-dee hole, what fun!  It’s like our own mini planetary alignment in our undershorts.)

When it comes to doing physical activity I now have to wear a tampon, even when I’m not ragging.  I use it as a sound barrier between the two worlds of my cavernous va-jay-jay and the realm of humanity.  I like to think of it as a “Dignity Plug,” or “Mute-ation Device.”

There is nothing worse than being in a crowded yoga class in downward-dog and feeling your cooch take a deep breath in like it has its own set of lungs.  Then as your slide into cobra the force of tightening your abs expels the inhalation and flaps your lips back and forth like they’re clapping.  I’m sorry, but there is nothing that exciting taking place down there that stems the need for an ovation.

I often wonder if I’m the only one, then there are days in the yoga class where certain moves elicit a queefing symphony, and I smile knowing my tampon is saving my addition of notes.  The smile is then quickly replaced by a turned up nose, the stink of sweat and fish market linger; not a welcoming combination!

For those women contorting your faces into smug positions as if you don’t ever do this, just like you don’t fart or shit, just get over yourself…it’s one of natures many hilarious gifts given to us to laugh about…clap about, however you want to look at it.

Only in a man's mind...

Warning to any men about to read this:  If you can’t handle the thought of, or reading about periods, bleeding like a stuck pig for seven days and not dying, i.e. menstruation, DO NOT CONTINUE.  You have been forewarned.

So like I said, Wednesday night the 14^th we get in, last day of anti-biotics, I’m out of the car finally.  There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Next day we go run some errands and pick up necessary items we need for the house before the movers bring our goods.  Guess who decides to rear her ugly head?  That’s right, Aunt Flo.  And guess who has two thumbs and no pads or tampons?  That’s right, you guessed it, me!  FML!  Seriously, what else do you have for me Mother Nature?  As if things haven’t been chaotic enough!  So halfway through the second store the pain is horrific, and can no longer stand.  (I’m one of those special women out there who for the first two days of that lovely monthly gift, can’t function due to pain and very heavy…menstruating.  It feels like my nether regions have been bludgeoned with Thor’s Hammer…or a meat cleaver, same result…the urge to cut my vagina off!

Now, onto the main point of the story.  Standing in my new bedroom on Sunday afternoon while the Head Thing is laying in bed still trying to fight a hangover.  He tried to play with the big boys the night before and failed miserably.  Maybe I should have given his balls back to him out of my purse before he attempted beer pong on top of his other beverages.  He’s at least awake and talking to me…

I’m pacing going back and forth to the window waiting for the Direct TV guy to come.  And this is the question my husband asks, “So, uh, are you done yet?”

Me:  “Don’t you worry your pretty little face about that.”

Him:  “Why wont you tell me?  Are you at the beginning still, close to the end?”

Me:  “I’m in the middle”

Him:  “Oh, so you’re just finishing up the 9^th hole.”

Silence…I am actually speechless at this moment.  Did he seriously just relate my period to a game of fucking golf?  “Yes dear, I’m about to play the back 9.” 

You know, there are those split moments where I am curious to know what he’s thinking…not any more.  After that, I’m terrified to see what goes on in that man’s head!  Who the fuck relates a bleeding uterus to a game of golf?  Only in a mans world, I swear!

Yep, heading to the 10^th hole now.  This one is a Par 4, so by the time I make it to the 18^th you should get laid again, oh in say another week.

You Can't Even Make Something Like This Up

It’s been quite some time since I blogged.  A LOT has happened.  We’ll start with the present but we’ll “do the time warp again” here and there.  The Head Thing received orders to California back in December and left the 30^th of January, leaving myself and Thing 1 & 2 back in North Carolina.  Major suck!  But things fell into place so the kids and I could move to be with him.  Here’s where the fun begins.  Head Thing flew home on the 1^st of March to get us packed up, finish things around the house before turning it over to a rental agency, and drive us across the country. 

Two days after his arrival I start getting sick…I am not even embellishing the severity of this next part…not the cold, not the flu, not really a fucking clue to be honest with you.  Some of the symptoms were common of the flu, but then the stiff neck for two days, the fevers over 103 for four days, coughing that hurts to the deepest part of my lungs; something is going on.  I no shit sweated off 10 pounds over the course of five days!  Monday the movers came and I was stuck in the fetal positing in the corner of the room, unable to open my eyes.  I soaked through two blankets, and clothing with sweat that day.  I literally felt like I was knocking on Death’s hatch that day.  The spouse helped me to get into a bath that evening, due to not being able to walk on my own, and after I was done, crawled back under a blanket naked and fell asleep. 

A couple hours later some friends of mine stopped by to pick up a dresser.  They stopped by the room to see me.  When I woke I immediately felt the shower spray of sweat leech from my body.  If I hadn’t of been so out of it I probably would have vomited; sweat grosses me out!  Deciding that I was not getting any better with Ibuprofen and Benadryl, I went to the ER on Tuesday:  spinal tap (thankfully not meningitis), chest x-ray, IV of fluids due to severe dehydration and a urine sample.  All amounted to nothing.  The doctor wanted to send me home with nausea meds.  I told him to keep it, that I didn’t want any.  Seriously, what the fuck are nausea meds going to do for a constant fever, cold chills, profuse sweating, and the inability to eat because you are so sick?  Dick, that’s what!  Why the hell would I load myself up with a drug that’s not going to do a damn thing to fix the problem…and you’re a doctor?  Where’d you get your license buddy?  Out of a Cracker Jack box?  The brilliancy of some people amazes me!

So here comes Wednesday, I do what I can to help my hubs around the house but then I have to lie down because I pushed myself too far, the fever is coming back tenfold.  Another friend stopped by and told me that I needed to go back to the ER.  Thankfully I listened.  She took me and within 20 minutes in the waiting room I already had blood drawn and another urine sample taken.  Though it would be another two hours before I escaped the waiting room and got a bed in the “express care”.  After a bit the triage nurse called me in again and told me I had a UTI, and that apparently my sample from the night before also indicated that.  Funny, it doesn’t burn when I pee…never would have thought that, but ok.  She said there were ketones in my urine.  Ok, I’m smart enough to know those aren’t supposed to be there!

Finally I’m taken back and put in a bed…and we wait.  Oh did I mention my back is in so much pain from the spinal tap the night before I can barely move?  Yeah, this is really fun, and I’m supposed to be getting in a car to ride across country.  FML!  The PA walks in listens to my chest, tells me he can hear wheezing in my lungs, wants to do a breathing treatment on me, oh and I have an upper UTI, which means my kidneys are pissed, which is his explanation for the fevers.  Great, so if I had not of listened to my friend and gone back to the ER I could be dead or in renal failure, close enough!  Great to know!  He also gave me a party pack of vicodin to help with the pain from the LP.  They no joke have pre packs of vicodin made at this hospital.  That blew my mind.  But for that pack I am thankful because it helped the pain and helped me finally get some rest!

Prescription of inhaler for the Upper Respiratory infection he dx, and Cipro, a seven day course of the most intense anti-biotic out there.  Gods if I thought I was sick before this pill surely made me want to die!  One in the morning and one at night.  The pain this pill caused made me question if it was even worth taking.  Eating was also a problem for me the past few days being sick, now it’s even worse with this pill.  Will this bullshit cease!?  I feel like you can’t even fabricate a story to this level, but alas it managed to take place.

We leave Saturday around 4pm to start our road trip.  Most of the pain has subsided in my back from the LP, but now I can feel the pain in my kidneys.  I’m still nowhere near ready to travel, but we must.  Gotta love time constraints!  I was actually looking forward to this trip…before I got sick.  Now I’m dreading it.

We made it in the night of the 14^th, my last day of anti-biotics, thank the Gods!  Here I sit now, the 19^th and my lungs are a disaster.  I go to my inhaler like David Hasselhoff goes to a hamburger on a binge.  It’s rather sad.  Shake, shake, puff.  Shake, shake, puff.  Oh, but wait, only two puffs every four hours.  Fuck, I can’t breathe after one.  This is bullshit!  I have no clue if the Cipro did its job and fixed the UTI.  I’ll have to set up a doctor’s appointment for that and unfortunately that’s on the backburner at this point with all the other things on my list I need to do.

So that’s just some of the last two weeks.  There is so much more to share, and I will…another day.