I know, I know

... I have been neglectful of my blog... so here's a little tidbit for you all to chew on for today...


The Baby has been doing some sign language which is way helpful to those of us that do not know what "goink, goo" means. She's got eat down pat, drink, more, finished, bye, and blows kisses. Very cute. We are now trying to teach her cookie and nap (for the love of GAWD).


Yesterday I noticed that she was doing a fake cry only to turn and see her laying on the floor actually kicking her feet.


"MOM, turn around, don't even look at her and STOP TALKING TO HER"


Yikes ok then... The Baby has started to have temper tantrums at 16 months old! The Punk is ignoring them and her so she doesn't do it for long. I wanted to take pictures but I got yelled at. I think this is great. That old saying "What comes around, goes around" Gotta love it as a grandmother! *snicker*


The wedding "rocks" still look like candy, and I figure that if anyone attempts to eat them, then they are just plain dumbasses and if they break a tooth, I'm not paying for it. They all have ribbons on them so they can be hung, they have glitter on the Trinity knots, and they have labels on the back. Go ahead, stick it in your mouth. *sigh* Also in the picture are the little bells. CUTE but a lot of work... not as much as those "rocks"

Nothing

I don't have anything to say... nothing funny is going on that I remember when I GET to work... my life now is revolving around Avon, Wedding rocks, a bolero everyone wonders is too small or keeping the baby out of the dog dishes and kitty litter box... hmmm... exciting... NOT

New Survivor Series

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.

There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.

In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.

Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care (weekend, evening, on a holiday or right when they're about to leave for vacation).

He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.

Each father will be required to know all of the words to every stupid song that comes on TV and the name of each and every character on cartoons.

Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a tortilla and one marker; and get a 4 year old to eat a serving of peas.

Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep their nails polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try to get through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on their clothing.

During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties. They must try to explain what a tampon is for when the 6-yr old boy finds it in the purse.

They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

He will need to read a book to the children each night without falling asleep, and then feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair each morning by 7:00 . They must leave the home with no food on their face or clothes.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what theywant to be when they grow up.

They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m. and then spend the remainder of the day tending to that child and waiting on them hand and foot until they are better.

They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to, 'You're not the boss of me'.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

After you get done laughing, send this to as many females as you think will get a kick out of it and as many men as you think can handle it.

No STRIPPER?????

Pics from the Bachlorette Party Friday night and why I was hung over while camping!

I'm TIRED DAMN IT!

Yesterday I stayed home "tired". Yes, that was my excuse and I'm sure I will continue to hear about it. I was exhausted and since I have vacation, sick and administrative time to take off, I can take it! So shut it.

However....

After calling my boss to tell her I was calling in tired, I returned to my bed to sleep. Only to be awaken at 9am by bark, bark, bark...

Seems that the neighbors have too much money and THIS year decided that in addition to having their house power washed, decks re-painted, and their garden mulched and put away for the Winter, that they also needed to have their yard re-landscaped. I could care less except that I needed to sleep and the damned dog would NOT shut up.

Finally at 11am or so I started to fall back to sleep when BARK, BARK, BARK. My Avon was there! Nice, but not nice enough for me to get up. "SHUT UP FOR THE LOVE OF GAWD!"

Back to closing my eyes when at 1pm or so the AT&T guy FINALLY decides to come again.

Then UPS drops off my wedding dress.

By this time I'm practically in tears, I'm so tired. I just want to sleep. I don't know why these delivery guys feel the need to ring the damned doorbell when they are just going to leave the shit outside anyway... to hear my dog bark? Trust me, it gets on your nerves after, oh, the 100th time!!!!

So at 2:30pm I lay down once again. The Man comes home at 3:30pm, and by this time I AM crying. He says to go back to bed and he will keep everyone (including the damned dog) quiet until The Punk drops off The Baby at 5pm.

At 6pm I hear the phone ringing. It's The Punk, she and my niece are moving a bedroom set from my nieces house to The Punk's house, could I watch the babies, do we have a truck they can use... blah blah blah...

Excuse me... WHAT THE??????

So I just say screw it and start sorting thru the Avon... eat something for dinner and resign to just staying up until 9pm when I AM going to bed....

HA!

8:45pm rolls around and I'm staring lethargically at the TV when The Punk calls. The mattress flew out of the back of the truck, so can we (The Man and I) please bring a rope and meet them in the next town over.

Oh and BTW, Shell and Big Daddy need the babies to go home 'cuz it's getting late...

So we get back to The Punk's house, unload the furniture, try to comfort the babies, and get everyone settled in. I'm reminded of a saying:

"Lack of planning on your part, does not constitute an emergency on my part."

Words to live by in a DIFFERENT family.

I went to bed at 10pm and am STILL tired this morning. Anyone know a vet that removes vocal cords in dogs???

The Clampets always camp!

Back from another camping adventure with my family. Everyone survived and we didn't have to get out the first aid kit!!!

Pictures to follow tomorrow...

A Campin' we will go...

I am still chuckling over the past weekend camping with my siblings. My man, bless his heart is still chuckling as well.

My sister Shell, who was so drunk and ready to "shoot out the G-d damn spot light if someone will give me a gun" because the guy behind us had his 5th Wheel camper lights on in back. Not good to shine in a drunk's eye! Not to mention her double dog dare of The Boy (and a buck thrown in to ensure he would do it) to tackle Auntie P.

My other sister Am, who had bathroom troubles all weekend. In all fairness, I have to say that those stupid auto flush toilets aren't very predictable. HOWEVER....

One morning, someone had the overgrilled hot dog shits. So into the bathroom we go (Yes, we still go as a group, shut it) A woman was in there at the mirror doing her hair. Curling it with an curling iron, spray, comb, curl...

You hear the toilet flush 18 times and Am giggling and beating up on the toilet.

The woman must have either gotten a whiff or was just disgusted at the waste of water with all the flushing, 'cuz she packed it in a hurry and ran out the door.

I'm standing there waiting to see if my sibling makes it out alive or if the toilet flushing monster got her.

She comes out with a red face, her toilet seat broke, and every time she would wipe, the flush of the toilet would just add more water to her butt that she had to wipe again. Vicious cycle.

Add to that the Boy, who I thought we were ALL going to have to duct tape to a tree, the noisy neighbors, the barking puppy mill, the car alarms that people didn't know how to turn off, and the VERY loud music in the middle of the night, and it should have been miserable camping.

It was fun, gave us something to talk about over breakfast. But I swear, If I have to hear, "What do you do with THAT... What's THAT for... Why... why... why..." one more time, I WILL scream!!!

My achin' toe...

What's a vacation without someone getting hurt? You know, bug bites, scratches, something like that.

MY vacation was spent tending to my toenail.

My stupid sister, Shell, decided to be funny...

"Boy, I'll give you a dollar if you run over there and do your best football tackle on Aunt P" As I was walking, IN THE DARK, back to the fire.

So the Boy runs over, I can see his outline running towards us, then he ducks and as he goes in for a grapple of my legs, he ALSO does his best slide into home ON MY FOOT.

I don't remember what happened right after that. I only remember the fire and pain that started on my big toe and as I felt it in the dark, I feel that my ENTIRE big toenail has bent backwards. I struggle to hold on to Am while pressing it back down.

Yes, it bled, yes, Shell is laughing hysterically now, and yes, the Boy feels awful, but runs to collect his dollar.

The next morning we had to clip it as far as I could stand it to be clipped, and cleaned and wrapped. Looks lovely.

Of course, the other part of our camping weekend was great. Even though those beotches that call themselves my sisters left the FLOODED campsite for the Man and I, it was fairly dry by the time we got there to sent up our TENT.

We had a lot of laughs, lots of food, and as always, good memories to last me into old age with my siblings!

So I do have good memories of the camping, but wow, the toe thing still freakin' hurts!!!

Goin' a-camping...

My family all try to get their poop in a group and go on a vacation together.

I don't know why. Glutton's for punishment or something. You don't see the men in our lives try to get THEIR family's together to go on vacation.

I think it's actually some sickness we all have. We usually end up being on the stink eye end of waitress' at restaurants when you ask for a table for 18 or something like that. If the family of ALL girls and one lonely boy doesn't stop growing, we will have to buy our OWN campground.

Anyway...

So this year instead of the Queen and her immediate minions going, it's just going to be us worker's going camping.

Am and Mister are bringing their camper which my man and I are not allowed to sleep in... and Shell and Big D are rigged to sleep in their van. That leaves the biggest critter chicken in our family (me) to sleep in a TENT.

Ok... so I've done it before and for a week and this time there are bathrooms (I hope) and maybe even electricity, but still, THERE ARE CRITTERS.

The Man won't be able to keep his gun in the tent, and a "pokin' stick" only works so well.

So if I don't return on Monday, the critters got me.

"Lemme stick 'ya"

It's pretty bad when I have two people who fight over who's going to give me my arthritis injection.


I'm pretty sure I'm NOT blessed in that area. Thanks but I'll stick my own self you masochists! (Or would that be Sadists?) Who cares... sickos!

Brown Acres

There's a lot to be said about living in the country. I don't have anything to say about it since I haven't lived in the country in like 25 years. But I sure am looking forward to moving out to the country someday!

The Man and I spent the weekend out at Costello's house. They built their dream house and wow... it IS a dream. I would be scared to build that much house, but I suppose.......

The Man injured his back so he got a lot of muscle relaxers, which in turn meant that I got to relax too!

We ate like we were on vacation, we smoked like we were on vacation, ok, he didn't, but I did. And we watched the hummer's fight and carry on at the feeder.

It's funny that we've had this drought for months and then the minute we go on our mini-vacation, it starts raining, and it hasn't stopped! It was ok since Costello has the big old fashioned covered porch with overhead ceiling fans and all that. Was really quite swell.

The inside of her house is like a show piece. I was afraid to do anything for fear of messing something up!!

My house in the country will include roosters and dirt! (I don't wanna hear it mother, I KNOW I live in a sty now... *sigh*)

Ahhhh!

I will be relaxing in the country this weekend at Costello's house.

My USB Cable is working, although my computer is still WAAAY slow!

Enjoy the pictures... (yes, boring, shut it)

*Sigh*

Am said I have to update daily. Think it is just because she is bored and needs to live vicariously through me... LMAO... Ok, ok, ok... no nasty emails/comments from YOU Am... sheesh

Anywhooo... I'm updating.

Nothing is going on in my life.

The baby is walking.

My USB Cable to my camera is still broke.

My Punk daughter is still in school.

My Man is still wanting to marry me. (Even though I'm turning into one of those bridezillas over the lack of dress that I wanted)

I'm still fat.

My co-workers are still fighting over the bathrooms.

So... hmmm... I got nothing.

Na Na Sisterhood

I have these two sisters. Am and Shell. And while they are both swell, I have to say that they bug me... A LOT!!!!

I realize I am the oldest, but for some reason, I thought that our rilvery was over when we all moved out of our CrabbyMomma's house.

I was never so wrong.

Case in point (stolen from an email):

MichChick: P said you were making fun of that baby on her website.

CrabbyMomma: I was not making fun of the baby. I said he was cute. Where did she get making fun of him out of that.

MC: I TOLD her you were being warm and fuzzy and she got all bitchy and started calling me AND you names. Jeeezz…..quite oversensitive that one is.

CM: Why was she being bitchy. All I said was he was cute. It ain't her baby for gosh sake! Calling me and you names? Why?

MC: Don’t know…..something about her not getting the wedding dress she wanted and the shoes were the wrong color. Then BAM….all of a sudden I am the daughter of a fatherless whore and all kinds of god awful stuff. I think if she could have spit through her email, she would have. Said something to the effect of "how could we [us bitches] possibly talk about a poor helpless baby like that" and how we should feel "shame".
Interesting. I don’t feel anything.
How about you?

My sister, my baby sister, has ALWAYS been the instigator. "I'm not sure mom, but I think I saw your tape recorder in P's room" Seems age hasn't done a THING to change this.

My OTHER sister, my middle sister, is pretty much the same, but is the more PHYSICAL of us. She's the one that would be happy to trip you then tackle you while you're down. "What? I thought you took mom's tape recorder and I was just trying to help her out"

Swell...

Guess who's ass got blistered the most as we grew up... not theirs! BRATS!

Chickmunk Family

In case you haven't noticed, it seems that The Baby has some major cheeks on her. We finally figured out where they came from. 'Da Baby Daddy side of the family. The Baby's cousin. Proof.................

Blog reading!

As I said to my family earlier... I 'bout shit myself, myself after reading this post!

Cranky_ass

What Am I...

While I waited for my boss to sign her name on the dotted line. I was afforded time to play on the 'net...

Happy Thursday!

You are a Black Coffee

At your best, you are: low maintenance, friendly, and adaptable At your worst, you are: cheap and angsty You drink coffee when: you can get your hands on it Your caffeine addiction level: high

What Kind of Coffee Are You Quiz

There's a 36% Chance You've Been Abducted By Aliens

Even though you have a few alien abduction signs, you're almost certainly in the clear.However, if aliens ever do come to your neck of the woods... they'll probably be coming for you!

What Are The Chances That You've Been Abducted by Aliens Quiz

You're Totally Sarcastic

You sarcastic? Never! You're as sweet as a baby bunny.Seriously, though, you have a sharp tongue - and you aren't afraid to use it.And if people are too wimpy to deal with your attitutde, then too bad. So sad.

How Sarcastic Are You Quiz

Pitter Patter

The Baby is now walking unassisted. This is the time of her life that I wish she would wear a helmet with a face guard, knee and elbow pads, and that my house was completely carpeted.

She already has a bruise on her forehead and one on her chin.

Good going Grandma!

She's having a great time walking up and down the hallway, chasing the damned dog and cats. She has figured out how to work the swing gate into the laundry room where we keep the kitty litter and food away from the damned dog.

GREAT.

That's been tied closed now, and the poor Man forgets and practically rips the gate off the hinges. I'm not much better, but I've only managed to break 2 fingernails.

By the time The Punk shows up at night, The Man and I are exhausted and wonder how one little baby could possibly cause 2 of us to barely make it to bed after the door is closed. We're old.

The Baby's 1 year birthday party is Friday... I think I'm going to buy her a straight jacket and muzzle! THEN I can nap again!

Rustic Honeymoon?

Here I am, planning a wedding. We know WHERE we are doing the ceremony. We know WHERE we are having the reception. We even know WHERE we are going for our honeymoon.

Silly me, I’m online looking over the website to the honeymoon site when THIS little tidbit smacks me in the face:

This is Bear Country
http://www.exploringthenorth.com/porkiesum/bear.html


Ummm… is it too late to reserve a Motel 6? They leave the light on!

ahhhhhh....

While working in the snake pit today, I found this website and can actually utilize it!!! Go figure... I'm sure our Networking people will figure it out and put the website on the forbidden list soon... but for today...

AHHHHHHH!!!!

http://www.getrelaxed.com/

When I die...

As I was cruisin' the sites this morning, I ran across a site that had this nifty little cadaver calculator on it. I must admit that I'm a little disappointed that I'm not worth anymore than that.

You know us "bigger" gals pay more for our clothes, so ummm... I would have thought it would be "logical" that our dead bodies would be worth more. *sigh* What the hell.

Who THINKS of these things? And why?? 'Course, the real question is... why would I take that kind of test in the first place?

Ummm... research... yea, that's it.

I'm depressed. Now where did I put those chips.

$4840.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth. From Mingle2 - Free Online Dating

Mingle² - Free Online Dating

Shotgun Weddin'?

The important mom in the bunch has been told, so I’ve been blessed and the wedding can progress!

Ok, so it was anyway, but it’s important to tell my mother right? So what if I’m chicken and didn’t want her to know. She was going to yell at me!

How old am I?

I seriously wasn’t going to marry again and here I am planning it. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. My last wedding took place in Toledo. We paid our $27, wrote our names in a big book. Changed our clothes, got felt up by the Minister, watched my mother-in-law lose her slip on the ground and completely screwed up my vows. Should have been a warning!

This time I wanted something more memorable, but comfy. So a small wedding and a big party afterwards.

Whose idea was this? Oh yea… HIS!

Ok, so both of us. I still wonder why. We won’t be having any children, we both have the same health insurance, we already live together, and we already share bills.

Why do I feel the need to have it be all legal with this one and none of the others? Hmmm… I like him better? He’s funny as hell, smart, and loves me and my kid.

Oh yea… he’s just what the doctor ordered to get me out of my funk.

So here I am thinking it’s all going to be easy. Ha… anyone plan a wedding/reception before?

I’m thinking about that dress this woman wore… *snicker*

Geeks For Take Out

For the past two days I've been working on my poor, old, broken computer. I know all about spyware, adware, grayware, trojans, blah blah blah... I've had registry probs in the past and have overcome them with a triumphant smile on my face. Satisfied in my own genius for fixing computers.

Until now.

I'm completely stumped. I've run all the typical scans for virus' and adware, and now am having to branch out and get help from computer geeks of a BETTER kind.

So until it's fixed and I'm once again smiling from my own determination and creativity in finding a solution, the people that I will be using are going to have a great time with me too. Nothing like a computer operator that THINKS they are computer geeks!!!

Little advertisement: http://security-central.us/forums//index.php

Ewww... what's that smell?

Yesterday, I received a call at work from my sister, Shell. This isn’t unusual, she will sometimes just call on her break or whatever just to touch base. Yesterday was a little different.

“What time does The Man get off work?”

“3:30 or so, why?”

“I need him to stop by my house after he gets off work and help Big Daddy get rid of a skunk that’s in our live trap.”

“Seriously”

“We were trying to trap the groundhogs that are destroying our garden, it didn’t even have any food in it yet.”
So ok then, I call The Man and the convo went a little like this:

“Can you go over and take a skunk out of Shell’s live trap for her?”

“OH HELL NO. Are you kidding? Tell Big Daddy that I’m sorry about his luck, but no way. I love you, and I really like your family, but a skunk? No way am I getting sprayed, been there done that!”

My sister, Shell, DOES have a way of getting into some pretty stinky messes, but I’m pretty sure this is the stinkiest. And after talking with The Man a little more and finding out that there’s just no way to let a skunk out of a trap without SOMETHING smelling, I was a little reluctant about him going over there too!

Big Daddy would just have to suck it up and sleep out in the tent for a few days. Or better yet, maybe let Shell do it! LOL.
So I’m imagining all kinds of bad things going on over there when Shell finally calls me later in the evening.

“Go look at your email”

“OK, why?”

“Just go look and shut it, it’s for your blog. I sent your other sister pics of the get-together for HER blog”

Great. My mother is horrified that I write about bodily functions enough. Now I get the stink, Am gets the pudding. *sigh*
Never-the-less… back to the skunk. Apparently it was a baby and it didn’t even spray. Guess we ALL learned a valuable lesson about live traps. *shudder*

Did you just call me fat?

For the record, the "new boyfriend diet" is WAY over and the "comfortable enough to eat like I usually do diet" is back on. So much for my 15 pound weight loss.

You would think that with The Man bent on making me walk all over the damned place, that I would lose weight. Instead, I must be gaining muscle under my fat. GREAT!

So this goes on for days, into months... *sigh* Imagine my surprise when I get out of bed yesterday after I found that I couldn't breath. I knew it... I'm finally having a heart attack!

Oh no... nothing that extreme. My lowest rib "popped" out. WHAT THE HELL!

Now, trying doing ANYTHING with a rib out, not just out of place, but popped out so you can feel all the way around it. I need a hammer to get it to go back in. I would use that if it didn't hurt so much!

The Baby has started a new game that tickles us all. She will hold on to your fingers, walk to the side a little and then stop and swing herself backwards. Not only are you expected to hold on to her hand, but you also have to catch her head in your other hand.

NOT a good thing to do right now, but she doesn't care, she gets PISSED if she can't do it.

Where's her grandpa with the damned stroller.

Anywhoooo... I need to lose weight before The Man and I get married. I don't want to lose a ton of weight, but 20-30 pounds will make me happy! So I am eating salads for lunch and protein and veggies for dinner. Not much in the way of carbs which makes me unhappy. I'm weaning myself off sugar which is going to be the hardest for me to do, but I've been assured that I could lose a LOT of weight doing just that!

*sigh* Ok fine.

The Punk, The Man and I were all talking about losing weight, and how The Punk and I need to lose it. (The Man doesn't need to lose any, hate that) When The Man says;

"Honey, when you are walking away from me, your butt looks like two Voltswagons trying to pass each other"

He just called me fat. The Punk is falling out of her chair, can't breath, and is laughing so hard I'm thinking of smacking her too.

"I don't mean the size, just the shape, I love looking at your butt."

I'm still speechless, and The Punk continues to laugh. I am sitting here right now, not sure if I should be offended or flattered. I'm pretty sure it's the former.

So that just did it for me. I know The Man prefers fat girls, but for my OWN well being, health and physical stamina, I need to lose weight. I don't know that I will be able to "keep" my Voltswagons, but I don't think I like that idea of that being in my pants anyway. Almost as bad as two raccoons wrestling in a burlap bag. I'm thinking...

So for the record... Today is the day I start an actual, conscience diet. Call ME fat will you!

Suuuwheet

At the risk of being all mushy and making my family gag, I wanted to write a little about The Man that will be my husband next year.

As some of you already know and love about me, I honestly was NEVER, EVER going to marry again. Period.

Been there, done that and it wasn't a good experience. I have enough ego, self esteem issues, didn't need anymore help in that department. Besides, knowing my family the way that I do, even though I still consider myself close, they would just blast me with negativity since The Man isn't their idea of "class".

However, he is my best friend. Never thought I would say that about a guy. Who can be best friends with a guy?? Other than another guy? He's into all this outdoor stuff, he LIKES exercise, he's ALWAYS (irritating as it is) HAPPY, and enjoys living every moment like it's his last.

I'm always amazed that he walked into this relationship and assumed father and grandfather duties without a blink of an eye. He takes all the daily demands of child and grandchild in stride and misses them when they aren't there or on the phone.

During our evening discussion, I again asked him WHY he had to get up at the butt crack of dawn. (Not much of a problem for you, I know, but he HAS to come wake me up to talk to him, so now you can appreciate MY problem)

His answer: "I can't sleep more than 6 hours a day 'cuz I'm afraid that I will miss something, a sunrise, the glitter of dew on the lawn, the sound of the morning. We are here on earth for such a short time, I don't want to miss what little time I have here."

Ok then. Once I started blinking again, we started in on a discussion about people who commit suicide. No, not me anymore, but some of the people we work with have those very ideas.

"I just found you, we don't have enough time together, I'm happier than I've ever been and haven't had to sacrifice to BE this happy. I love you so much that if anything were to happen to you, I would be lost. Not suicidal, but lost. If anything were to happen to me, and they say that it MAY have been suicide, don't you believe it for one second. If I have to go out, then I will be taking someone out with me... a flaming mass, kicking and screaming. I won't be one of those that just 'gives up'".

This is the same man that says "ouch" when I've hurt his feelings, who plays "tag" with me when we are dealing with the baby, he's the one that makes me feel better when I'm hurt by something someone has said or done.

And yes, being woken up by some loud assed baby toy and then having him act all innocent, is NOT making friends with me somedays, but he's never lazy, always ready to help anyone. He makes me smile when he talks like an old southern guy and can get me laughing so hard that I pee my pants. He's also the one that will hold me and never make fun of me for my fears or if I cry over something sad.

The old saying goes about meeting people who leave footprints on our hearts, he's left BOOTprints on mine.

*You can stop gagging now, I'm getting out my tissues*

Beep, beep

My sister, Shell, brought a little push/ride toy over for The Baby to keep at grandma's house, along with some clothes.

Since The Baby is ready to walk any minute now, this push toy is great and she had a good time playing with it yesterday. She got it going really well in the house much to the damned dog's anxiety. (Don't look at me like that, he needs to get out of the way when he sees her coming and screaming)

The Man and I took her outside with it and let her shove it down the driveway and back a few times. I'm imagining all kinds of bandaid needs, where The Man is just amazed by her speed and agility getting it to go where she wants it to go!

Other than trying to run the cat, the damned dog and us over with it, she's pretty good with it.

Now, how to get her to hush when you are ready to go in the house and NOT play with it. *sigh*

Two for one!

I promised pics of vacation in the woods last week, so will get that done today as well. I have much to do so it will all be short and sweet, which is probably just as well in your book! Just so you all know. While camping "rustic" style, this princess had to dig her OWN toilet. The Man, bless his heart, thought it would be good for me to do this since he can go anywhere, and I'm a little more needy in the bathroom area! I have to admit that it was a tough job. 1 1/2 feet of rocks and gravel which The Hunter helped uncover (he just felt sorry for me since I was grunting and sweating profusely) He only "loosened" the rocks for me, I had to actually dig them out of the hole.

After a break, I dug another 1 1/2 foot of black dirt out of the hole, which doesn't come off your clothes or legs easily. I was sweating, and my back was screaming, so I sat at the mouth of the hole and dug. Hey, easier than STANDING and digging.

Finally, 2 hours later or so, I had The Man come inspect the "latrine" to see if it was deep enough, wide enough, etc. He was quite impressed with my efforts and made a big deal about it. I was so proud and just winked at The Hunter for HIS help!

The two of them then finished it up complete with toilet seat, paper, wipes, and lime for AFTER using it! It's a work of art, and I didn't even break the damned thing with my big butt. Even The Punk used it and was impressed!

Beats hanging my butt over a log! My luck, I would have gotten poison ivy... there's enough of it out there!

*******************************

Yesterday we went to The Man's family reunion. I was nervous and made The Punk and The Baby come with us just in case The Man was called away for "family stuff". Smart thinking on my part, he had to help drag extra picnic tables over to our side of the park.

I was right that they would have a ton of food there, and The Man ate his face off. So much so that he fell asleep holding his stomach on the way home!

Everyone was nice, welcoming, and no one that I could tell was stinking drunk! A few beers and some wine coolers were all I saw. There were a ton of kids and lots of stuff for everyone to do. I met several cousins and aunts of The Man's, and when I would relay the names, he would just nod his head. I'm sure he can't keep them all straight.

They all go by "clan" names which I thought was pretty cool. So for all my worry, no one was mean, or rude, except for that one old woman who cut in front of me in the food line. I let her have her cut in line, but next year, she's going down!

FOOTNOTE* The kid getting ready to dunk the ball missed and the ball bounced off The Man's head... cracked The Punk and I up so much we about lost our seats!

Looking for the pot of gold!

This weekend is The Man’s family reunion. The IRISH SIDE.

In all fairness I only have a stereotypical idea of what this reunion will be like.

Kegs of Irish beer and/or whiskey. Loud, raucous laughter. Big, hairy men and red headed women and children everywhere. Food enough to feed more than a small country if The Man’s typical appetite is indicative of how his whole family eats.

I’m scared.

I’ve seen pictures of previous reunions and while everyone poses with smiles and opaque cups in their hands, it still makes me nervous.

I’m not much of a drinker or social butterfly any more.

The Man assures me that it’s a lot of fun. Uh huh.

He KNOWS all these people. He’s DRANK with all these people. I’m sure I will be able to toss a horseshoe or two. I know how to play badminton, but what of any IRISH games that they may have? What if I don’t like the kind of food they have there? Will I have to sit by the salad trays? *shudder* Do they do corned beef when it’s NOT St. Patrick’s day???

I’m taking Sushi.

Wow... having troubles with my home computer and now the blogger... hmmm... operator error? I can't get titles on, and the archives for July won't show on refresh... give me some time, either to fix it myself or complain to someone that knows how to fix the blogger!

I'm BACK!

My week was wonderful. Rustic camping is great. Of course, I'm sure it helps when you have The Man there being incredible. How can one man make my heart go pitter patter just when I thought all that nonsense had settled down into a comfy shoe!

Pictures will follow sometime this week, but for now, here's a summary of our week!

I got to sit outside nudie-tudie!

I got my merit badges in:
Latrine hole digging (this wasn't easy and broke out into a sweat frequently)
Starting a fire with a flint stick and a pocket knife
Shooting a compound bow and actually hitting the target
Cooking over open fires
and... 2 badges in advanced bird watching/identifying!

I identified over 43 different kinds of birds. Those were only the ones I SAW. NOT including those night birds that forced me to yawn and run to the tent at night. (Didn't say I earned a badge in bravery or anything, so hush)

I learned that I'm NOT allergic to poison ivy, and am able to identify several plants and trees that I've never seen before.

I learned that I won't die if I walk a couple of miles per day.

I've learned that just when you think that you can't love someone anymore, that they say or do something that makes you do the cartoon swoon! I love you Man!

I also learned that critters only come near camp when they are USED to getting their food from people, and that deer get pissed when you are on their part of the grass that they want to bring their babies on. They also make a noise that will haunt me for a long time to come. *shudder*

I learned that my headache is stress or work, or something since I haven't had it in over a week *knocking on wood*

I learned that my house is the same even after a week, but that laundry, dishes and weeds double in a week on vacation!

I learned that The Punk, even though she's young, is an incredibly reliable, responsible, and wonderful young woman. NOT in spite of me, but BECAUSE of me and the fact that I believed in her all those times when I could have just given up! I love you Punk!

I learned that despite everything, I love my family and am very happy that they are finding joy in my daughter and granddaughter! I'm proud!

I learned that I am happy and satisfied!

Ahhhhhhhh

Happy Birthday!

Just a quickie to wish The Man, Happy Birthday. He is 45 today and still in good working order! He prides himself on his strength and agility and has a body that proves his pride! Hell I'm proud of him. He is a great guy even if he IS older than me!

So Happy Birthday Babe! I look forward to many more of them with you!

Flashback

I'm at a loss as to what to write here today, so since I will be going on vacation soon, and since I'm not quite in the same murderous state I WAS in a few months ago, I can now post the Easter story. Just so you know... this is a topic that STILL comes up during our conversations. He has learned from the incident and he will live... for now...

EASTER 2007

Violence may well erupt in our peaceful household.

Most people know that taking food from the Fat Girl is completely suicidal. You might just as well find a bat and hit yourself with it if you are even THINKING about taking, no wait, STEALING the Fat Girl's food. Most especially her EASTER CANDY!!!!!

So here is the motive just in case he does it again and I kill him.

My daughter and I bought Easter candy for everyone. We mixed and matched so that the boys and us girls could have their OWN Easter Basket. We know from experience in this family that sharing of Easter, Halloween, Christmas, Birthday or Flag Day candy is NOT a nicety we have like other families. We must have our OWN, and by that, I mean, no one else is ALLOWED to touch, grim, drool, or envy when they've engaged in pigery and gobbled theirs down in the first day. The Man, 'Da Baby Daddy, The Punk and I, and even The Baby had our OWN Easter Baskets, and yes, The Punk and I gave more of the candy to the boys since it's only right that they gain more weight than us during this time of engorgement.

I like to savor my candy. Sometimes there is candy left in my basket from the previous year, in my stocking, in my Halloween bag, and of course in my Flag Day bag. I count on this candy to be there. I like to treat a good day with a couple of "Fun Sized" candy bars (Not that they are all that fun, fun would be bigger than my head, but that's another story). So imagine my HORROR when I pulled my basket down from the top shelf and see all the pink, shiney Easter grass laying on the top. I dig and feel my heart drop into my stomach when all I see are 5 grape jelly beans and the nastiest sugar candy eggs.

OMG!!!! We were robbed... that's all there is to it. Someone broke into the house and stole all my candy. I walk down the hall crying to find The Man quickly grabbing me, pressing my arms to my sides.

"Did you eat all my Easter Candy?" I ask still stricken

"Honey, I was SAVING you from having to eat it all" he replies, backing up into the bathroom still holding my arms down.

"So you ate ALL my Easter candy? You didn't just HIDE it on me as a joke? You know what I said about taking the Fat Girls candy, so did you hide it?" I asked, hopefully.

"No honey, I ate it." Still slowly backing up.

"ALLL?????" Hysterical now.

"Yea, I'm sorry, you want me to buy you some new candy? I thought you didn't want to eat all that, you were just saying the other day...... " Still holding my arms down and in the bathroom now.

"YOU ATE ALL MY EASTER CANDY? There was like 18 "fun sized" candy bars in there, 2 Cadbery eggs, and other stuff, you ATE IT all?!" I feel the violence from the pit of my stomach, not even The Punk has been so brazen, ever.

He releases my arms, I give him a good kidney punch and he quickly shuts the bathroom door while I have my hissy fit.

I storm down the hall and purposefully leave my EMPTY basket out.

"Did you think the dark jelly beans were black jelly beans? They're GRAPE... ha!"

I didn't hear him come out of the bathroom, but as I'm standing in the kitchen, he walks in, "Oh, I didn't know that" EATING them!!!

Then, to add insult to injury, I hear him jiggle what's LEFT in my Easter Basket and look to see that he put RADISHES in it...

So your honor, that's why I had to kill him!

Overheard At Work...

Co-worker: "Can we wear MAN Capri's?"


Boss: "Sure, the list of yes and no clothing is posted on the door"

Calling Dr. House!

The Baby has been running a fairly high temp for the past 3 days. The Punk called the doctor and they couldn’t get her in until Thursday, so they said to take The Baby to Urgent Care in the hospital.

Typical answer.

We get to Urgent Care within a ½ hour of their opening at 2:00pm and began our wait. About 3:45pm they called us into the room. The nurse was really great and The Punk appreciated her help in trying to get The Baby to stop crying and whining. Her temp is 103.5 and she’s NOT her usual happy self.

The doctor gets in there and I swear to GAWD I have NEVER met a doctor like him. He walked in all slow and his posture reminded me of a cartoon character. You know the Turkey Buzzard that is embarrassed all the time… “Dum, de dum” THAT cartoon character.

He touches The Baby’s toe and she cries, so he touches my hand and her foot and my hand. The Baby can’t figure him out and quits crying for a minute. Hell, I can’t figure him out. Are they serious? This guy is REALLY the doctor and not some guy that is PRETENDING to be a doctor and really should be working in one of the rooms where I work?

So he checks her ears, then her throat and declares that there isn’t anything wrong with her. An alarm starts somewhere in the building and he tells us to hang on, he doesn’t think the patients have to do anything yet. He walks out in the hall.

Doctor: “What should we do with the patients? Should I be doing anything?”

Nurse: “Yes, go into your room and close the door”

Now while I’m thinking that Doctor Stupido just got slammed and it was funny, he DOESN’T come back into the room and shut the door.

The nurse comes in with some Tylenol, and gives it to The Punk to give to The Baby. The Punk and I then start talking about this doctor and I CALLED him Dr. Stupido out loud. Both The Punk and The Baby started to laugh which made ME laugh.

So when Dr. Stupido DOES come back in, we were tickled and couldn’t stop grinning.

Diagnosis?

Doctor: “I can’t find anything wrong with her, so I want you to go to the ER, they may have tests that they can do to see what’s going on with her”

*sigh* FINE then.

So off to the ER we go. Mind you, it’s hotter than hell itself out, so we are sucking down the AC in the car which I just HATE to do. But gotta keep The Baby comfortable.

At the ER, the Sherriff brought in some woman in handcuffs chained around her waist. For ½ hour we listened to her bitch and piss and moan about the cuffs being too tight, flirting outrageously with the Sherriff, and just be someone that should be seen by a shrink, not the ER. After enough bitching the Sherriff took the chain off her waist and cuffed her behind her back. We listened as she complained that they were too tight but he wasn’t listening. She actually pulled her hand out of the cuffs at one point to scratch her nose, and then continued asking about the Sherriff’s wife, telling him her measurements.

The Punk and I were struggling not to laugh at this poor guy’s predicament, but damn! The woman next to us wanted to know if he had something for her mouth. I was just worried that if she were mentally ill and unstable, she might go for the cops gun!

Finally got into a cubicle and we got to listen to the woman across the curtain yell for help, they were hurting her… this went on for a good hour or more, I can’t tell. The Baby cried on and off.

The Punk and I were tired, thirsty, and hungry by the time this NEXT doctor came in. He checked her ears and said that one of them was just starting to get a little pink and declared in no uncertain terms that she had an ear infection and needed antibiotics.

Fat Girl: “She would get a fever of 103.5, stop drinking, stop urinating, wake up in pain every 15-20 minutes, and be listless from a slight ear infection?”

Doctor: *pause* “Yes”

The Punk: “Even though she gets ear infections much worse than this and has NEVER ran a fever this high?”

Doctor: *pause, looks at me, looks at The Punk* “Yes, so have her take the antibiotics and follow up with her regular doctor, alternate the Tylenol and Motrin every 3 hours”

After he leaves I can tell that The Punk is ready to start breaking stuff. HOURS of waiting, trying to keep The Baby from crying and busy, and this is it?

Fat Girl: “Honey, it’s ok, even if it IS something worse, the antibiotics will take care of it, just watch her fever”

So needless to say, the poor baby is in the backseat again, sweating, but sleeping, there are antibiotics and Tylenol for the night and a couple of doctors that could use a foot up their butts.

I’m calling Dr. House!

Overheard at work...

"This is a verbal warning, do not wear shorts again, it is against our policy" Out of the mouth of our boss...

"But what about all the others, they are wearing shorts too" Out of the mouth of one of my lovely, mature co-workers.

I need a Snickers.

Weekend from... Part 2

Having The Man’s teenaged daughter over this past weekend, I had fully expected a sullen, depressed, suicidal, attitude ridden typical teen.

Not what we got.

Instead we got a wonderfully happy, always in a good mood, hyper, FEMALE version of The Man.

She is a smart ass like her father and loved being able to tease me mercilessly about the shave job I did on my dog, among other things…

“What setting did you use to shave him with…. Oh wait, what 4 settings did you use to shave him with?”

OMG, it only looks bad for a month or so, but HE feels better than having all that long, heavy fur, smart mouth!

We (The Man and I) believe her mom sent her over to us as a punishment. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere except with us. But even with that kind of punishment she was STILL delightful. We did make her weed the garden and there wasn’t any of the mouth clacking noise that I have so often heard when I made The Punk do stuff she didn’t want to do! She even posed for photo’s with her father after she was done weeding.

Sunday during the day we went out to move firewood to the area we will be camping at this coming week and there was no complaining then either.

As it goes for teen girls, she hasn’t seen her father in months, and now she has decided that she wants to see him more. We will have to buy twice as many groceries since she EATS like her father too!

Our grass must be greener!

I think it’s a great idea and have no problem with it. I know that The Man was overwhelmed with feeling but buried those feelings ‘cuz he’s a Big Strong Man you know. *rolling my eyes*

I think she liked it over our house ‘cuz The Punk was over so much with The Baby and they hit it off really well.

Either that or it was my sparkly, charming personality and wit!

Weekend from...

HELL?? Well mostly not, unless you count the dogs that got confused. Thinking that INSIDE was OUTSIDE, and now I have to mop my floors yet again today! *sigh*

My mother was 5 minutes out the door before ONE of her damned dogs decided that “Oh, this big rug that Ms. P doesn’t mind dragging outside onto the deck and hosing off and scrubbing with a scrub brush, think I’ll take a nice big poo here! Oh, and throw in a piss just for her mopping under the rug, pleasure!”

GREAT!

So that’s all fine and well… we’ll just take the baby outside or keep her off the carpet until I can move everything and get the rug outside AGAIN!

That ONE dog kept growling and snapping at the baby, crabby assed thing. I thought it was funny when The Punk kept saying she better NOT bite the baby, while giving the dog the "fist" sign. The Man said if she did, then my mother could come visit her in the backyard ANY time! Wow, some violence at my house already and the weekend only just started!

So the dogs fought and barked and carried on until we got the pecking order down. As long as MY damned dog leaves everyone alone, they will get on just fine. But no, my damned dog is like the youngest brother in the family, gotta pick, and poke, and sniff until everyone is good and crabby and snappy… then he runs like the devil is on his tail! Well…. Close!

Let’s not talk about the fiasco that ensues when it’s time to go outside. It takes two of us to rustle up the pack. One of us has to open the baby gates and yell, and pat their leg, “Come on, that’s it, over here, come on, let’s go OUTSIDE”, while the other one walks behind with a portable baby gate, herding them in the correct direction. The damned cat gets out before the dogs get near the door. *sigh*

So 5 seconds after they are let out, one of them stands at the door and barks. And barks, barks, barks, and then the other joins in, and bark, bark, bark. My dog is in the back part of the yard looking at them knowing how long he’s going to be out at any given time. I have to hurry to let them in so my crabby NEIGHBORS don’t complain about the barking again. Good grief.

They are herded back into the house, MY damned dog jumping over the one that bites and she snaps at him and once again they are snapping, growling, and barking at one another while the other dog is trying to climb up my pant leg.

Someone just shoot me and get it over.

The water dish has been knocked over, twice
The cat is lying in the doggie bed and it just happens to be the snippy ones’
The old cat is hiding out on the back of the couch where she’s barked at
One starts to bark, all three bark
More yelling on my part
More herding
More paper towels to sop up the piss in the hallway that either was done before or after the last outing.

It’s only 9pm. I’m already crabby.

Friday Fracas? and other nonsense...

A few things up for discussion today, so I was being thoughtful and thought I would share with all of you.

Costello is feeling better today since one of the main characters of all the bickering, is out today. Wonder if it’s ‘cuz I’ve been sending people down to HER bathroom to poop. Hmm… Also, the table fight? One of the gals just waited until the other left for the day and then made the switch… sneaky! So work will be a nice peaceful day as long as no one ELSE gets pissed and decides to start another fight that we can all think about over the weekend.

Am doesn’t understand how grown people can act like this. We are union. Does that explain it? The Man doesn’t know why my Boss allows us to put up signs. Hello? We are union! LOL

The Baby was cute as hell again last night, playing in a bucket of cold assed water and making a weird noise when it would splash up on her. She has also started a biting, smacking game with us that are lucky enough to be on the receiving end. I know that she’s too young to know that it’s wrong, but damn, after a well landed smack in the mouth or having your glasses knocked off your face, the first thing you think of is either whacking her back, or yelling. Ok, so that’s probably just me.

The biting? I don’t know WHAT to make of that. When The Punk did that, I bit her back and that was the end of the biting, but not sure The Baby is old enough to know why. So I look like Dracula came to visit me last night.

I won’t go into detail about the Freddy Kruger nails the child has. Just suffice it to say that I have the weekend to scab over.

I’m looking forward to having The Man’s punk here this weekend. I’m better with kids, old and new, in MY old age, so it should be just fine. I have lots of walls and floors needing to be scrubbed, might just as well put her to use! Ha!

My sister Am, and I were discussing my going out to the property that we are going to spend time on next week, thinking that I should take the bad dogs out there.

FG: “I would worry that they would meet up with Coyotes”

Am: “Should take Rip, might do her good to run into a dog that has bigger balls than her”

I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t want that for Rip or the bad dogs I will be watching this weekend, so they can stay home and poop and pee on the kitchen floor. (Mom, are you bringing a roll of paper towel with you?)

I was going over all the crap paperwork that I have for my appointment with the headache clinic. Like 12 pages of stuff I have to fill out. FINALLY a doctor that thinks it’s a concern or at least of interest if your headache is triggered or gets worse with physical activity INCLUDING sex. You tell the doctor something like that and they give you a blank stare that tells you one of two things, they don’t believe you, or you really have a bigger problem than THEY want to help with!

The questionnaire goes on to ask if I’ve ever done illegal (street) or prescription drugs recreationally. How far back do I go? Last week, last year, or is this an EVER thing? Cripe. We don’t wanna go there, my mother is a Substance Abuse Counselor. Maybe I’m the reason WHY she is…. Hmmm… I need to think about that.

Also, why do they need to know if I’m right or left handed? So I’m hoping to be able to be headache free here soon! If not, I’m thinking that the old “blood-letting” or “blood-suckers” to the temple may be in order.

I’m gearing up for the quitting smoking thing. I’ve got the book, the CD, the computer sites and of course EVERYONE at work handing me cards for websites and support 800 numbers. I’m grateful for all the support, but GET OFF MY BACK for now. Sheesh, one more week and then I’m done…

In closing, I was just thinking how incredibly lucky I am that I found The Man when I did. Finally after all these years and like Am and I were talking about this morning, all those REALLY bad kissers, I found one that is a great kisser as well as my very best friend, ever. I am sitting here remembering some of the smart ass things he says and my mom will remember the day we went out to eat at the Mexican Restaurant.

*Some Spanish rapper on the overhead*

CrabbyMomma: “Who is THAT rapper?”

The Man: “Dos Pac”

Have a fabulous weekend!

Who let the bitch out?

In the years that I have worked here, I have tried to teach Costello, the other secretary to be bitchier. She’s so nice to everyone that they tend to take advantage of her sweet nature, and walk all over her. I feel bad because I USED to be just like that.

A few times we’ve talked about evasive body language, short answers, and as a last resort, to put up signs. Immature? Maybe, but oh so effective at keeping unwanted staff at bay. And with the recent playground fights and name calling in the hallways here, it is needed now more than ever.

So for your viewing pleasure, you are now able to see where Costello is at in her training!

The sign under her name says:

Just to remind you...

The P's DO NOT know everything!!!

The P's DO NOT WANT to know everything!!!

The Workforce Director resides down this hall.

Her number is 234, call her, she cares.

She's pulling out all the stops. Cudo's Costello, bravo to you!!

Going To The Zoo

In addition to the daycare that I must have started working at recently, we will be living in a bigger zoo than usual this weekend!

I say I’ve started working in a daycare because the staff are fighting over toys and bathrooms.

You heard right, bathrooms.

One gal wants a table that another gal has in HER room, and neither want to give up anything that MAY be more valuable to the other.

Another gal doesn’t want ANYONE to use HER bathroom.

WHAT? You’ve got to be kidding.

I didn’t know we had assigned bathrooms here, but ok.

Add to that the other various squabbles and bitching, and you have the makings of a really bad mood, and a boss that isn’t in the best of moods as it is.

I’m sad. I prefer my boss in a good mood, but even my high-jinks here can’t get a smile out of her today.

I lost my mind when I said I would take care of my poor mother’s dogs, Ricky Retardo, and Lucille Biter. Put them with my damned dog and cats and there will be a lot of noise, barking, pooping, peeing, and headaches to be sure. (While I’m thinking of it mom, bring a roll of paper towel, we are out!)

Then The Man corners me in the kitchen last night. It wouldn’t have been ALL bad but he’s making me eat stuff like salad and stick bread, so there wasn’t anything to snack on except veggies, and THAT wasn’t going to work.

“How would you feel if we got my daughter for the weekend?”

After my eye stopped twitching I thought: Ok, so no matter what I say here, unless it’s something totally positive, I’m a poophead.

“I think that would be just fine, we have my daughter and the baby here all the time, it’s only fair to have your daughter come over!”

Mind you I’ve never been CLOSE to being a step mommy to anyone, let alone what I’m expecting to be a sulky, pouty 16 year old with an attitude toward me ‘cuz I’m NOT the Mommy!

I’m nervous as hell to say the LEAST! Trying to run thru in my head what we could POSSIBLY do to entertain her for the weekend. How to keep the animals off her and how many sets of ear plugs we should buy for her so she can sleep thru all the barking and fighting that will be going on with all the animals in the middle of the night.

I remember what I did as a 16 year old, but how do you prevent that from happening with any OTHER 16 year old… Sorry mom!

I’m thinking that I will charge $5 for those that would like to come over and see all the exhibits. We will be open from 11am until 8pm.

You Want It WHEN?

My boss is bossing me around this week. All my co-workers are being bitchy, and the clients are being loud and obnoxious this week. Even The Baby, The Punk, and The Man are acting unusual so I had to check to make sure we weren't coming up on a full moon. *sigh* Not even close... so it must be something in the water!

Moon Phase

I'll keep checking back so that I know when I can eat that bag of chips and blame it on the full moon making me crazy!!

Working for the paycheck....

With my boss making me work today, I thought it would be in my best interest to share the following article with those of us that have idiots for co-workers. I do not follow these tips as much as I should... I'm more of the straight on bitch to your face type of person. Probably why my reputation here at work is Ms. Bitch.

Well... the job gets done with little to no hassle.

Handling the Irritating Co-Worker
Four Easy Tips
Rachel Zupek, CareerBuilder.com


Work can't get much worse than when it stinks -- literally. For Stephen Viscusi, work stinks every day.

"I work near an executive (woman) that does work out at lunchtime," Viscusi says. "She returns smelling like body odor and Chanel No.5. It doesn't cut it."

Rather than let his co-worker continue smelling up the office, Viscusi, author of 'On the Job: How to Make It in the Real World of Work,' took the high road and told his colleague she had a small problem. He says the sheer embarrassment motivated her to not only shower, but not to take it personally or hold a grudge.

"Never be afraid to confront annoying co-workers head on," Viscusi says. "Remember they are peers, not the boss."

There's (at least) one annoying co-worker in every office. Whether it's the chatty-Cathy, smelly-Steven, tag-along-Tammy or just "that guy," difficult co-workers (unfortunately) are the standard in the workplace -- not the exception.


Most difficult co-workers are oblivious to their nightmare behavior. Avoiding them is out of the question. If you do make a comment, they stare at you like you're from the moon. Your feelings have been building up for months -- maybe even years -- and it's time to do something about it. You can either pull your hair out over their obnoxious behaviors -- or, you can deal with them accordingly.

Define the Problem (aka "Co-worker")In 'The Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Work' (Chronicle Books), Joshua Piven and David Borgenicht describe four possible types of co-workers.

The Talker ... just won't shut up; engages in long-winded, one-sided conversations on relatively trivial subjects; and always has something to say about something (or someone).

The Kiss-Up ... craves approval mostly from the boss, but will also seek approval from you.

The TMI (Too Much Information) ... has no boundaries and no shame. He/she will share every piece of unpleasant and personal information with you, without sparing a detail. *They are talking about ME here!*

The Gossip ... much like the TMI, will share any and every story -- as long as it's not theirs.
Deal With ItCarly Drum, a workplace etiquette expert with New York-based executive search firm Drum Associates, offers these tips if a co-worker is annoying you:

Tip No. 1: Take a break. When you are spending more than 40 hours per week indoors with the same people, something is bound to bother you, Drum says.

"Everyone is going to have some sort of mannerism that bothers you, whether they crack their gum too loud or just hold their pen wrong." Drum says. Step outside for a breath of fresh air or run out to get a cup of coffee, she suggests. "It's human nature to get bothered by the little things, so just accept it and take a break!"

Tip No. 2: Be mentally tough. Don't let another colleague's bad habits hurt your concentration and productivity at work. Drum suggests ignoring him or her as best you can and limiting your daily interactions with them. *Or put a sign on your door: "I took a pain pill, why are you still here?"*

"If career advancement is important to you, then always try to act professionally in the workplace regardless of what an annoying co-worker might do," Drum offers.

Tip No. 3: Discuss the problem with your co-worker. (In a non-judgmental, non-confrontational way of course ...)Drum agrees with Viscusi that you shouldn't be afraid to say something to your co-worker. Depending on what the behavior is that's bothering you, it never hurts to approach your co-worker for a friendly little chat, Drum says.

"Co-workers sometimes don't notice they are doing something really annoying because it's just by habit," Drum contends. "By saying, 'I don't know if you noticed but ... (insert issue here)' -- a reasonable co-worker will usually be receptive to your feelings."

Tip No. 4: Talk with your supervisor. If the friendly and polite one-on-one doesn't work (or turn out to be so friendly), another option is to bring up the issue with your supervisor.

"From a managerial perspective, a difficult employee who is insensitive to other co-workers can poison a workplace environment and severely impact inner-office morale," Drum says. "Effective supervisors know how imperative it is to nip problems like this in the bud as soon as they arise."

Rachel Zupek is a writer and blogger for CareerBuilder.com. She researches and writes about job search strategy, career management, hiring trends and workplace issues.
Copyright 2007 CareerBuilder.com.

Pretty sure we don't know how to talk to the woman that picks her nose, looks at it and YES, puts it in her mouth. I am disgusted when I see kids do it... to see a grown assed woman do it? I want to vomit!

Bra, Bra, Go Away.

I've only ever bought bras on hangers, but any woman who is "bigger" knows how to buy a "BOX" bra. Except me.


My girlfriend at work said to me last week...


"Go to Victoria Secret, they have "bigger" bras now!"


"Are they on hangers?"


"HUH?"


"Never mind."


Ok, so I look online since if I were to EVER buy one of their bras it would be online at E-Bay or something. I'm excited thinking that I'm going to get a cute bra and not one of those torture devices that pinch and shove wires where they shouldn't be shoved.


So at the site, it says, measure UNDER my breasts around the ribcage. Ok... done. I'm thinking, wow, not too bad, 40 1/2, so I can size up to a 41 and it's fine. Then it says to ADD 5.


WHAT? WHY?? *whining*


If it's an ODD number to round up one. *sigh* ok fine then. 46 it is.


Then you are to meaure around the largest part of your breasts for your cup size. (I'm pretty sure you are suppose to wear a bra, since without one, I would have been MUCH smaller.)


Done, 48 and a little.


I continue reading and it says to subtract THAT number from the BAND number and that's your bra size. Ummmmmm...


So I'm a 46B. ?????


Let me see. The tag on my GOOD bra says 42D and that's with very little room for overflow. Do Victoria Secret bras come LARGE or something? Not to mention that trying to FIND a 46B on their site is impossible, since their BIGGEST BAND size is a 40. I'm pretty sure they don't consider the fat UNDER the arms part of the breast. (don't look at me that way, I may be big, but I have no cleavage.)


Great.


So since I was depressed anyway, and The Man was all excited thinking I had incredibly LARGE breasts, I finished measuring. I'm pretty sure that the clothing manufacturing companies would have a hell of a time with my body.


So for all those punks out there that ask: A/S/L/M, here it is in black and pink: Old, yes, work, and 46, 51, 44. Woo hoo... sexy!


I'm going to WalMart to buy a 42D BOX bra. Maybe the lady in that department will throw in the little hanger so I feel better.

Why Is Your Floor Sticky?

I ask myself daily how the floor ends up so dirty and sticky. I know I have a baby in the house, but come on... how can one little baby cause the kitchen floor to be sooooo icky?


I have the answer on film.

Baby throws food on floor. Dog licks it up. = Sticky, dirty floors.

The Punk is here too, taking The Baby home so I can mop my damned floors AGAIN!