Back in a few…

I’ll be back in a few days, I’m off getting ready for our big huge Super Bowl party. Go Giants!!

Heaven Didn’t Wait

My trip home was extra bittersweet, for reasons I’ll get to in another post. I will say that I see now that it’s hard to make your heart accept the things your brain already knows. When your reality isn’t your own, things get complicated. But I’m not really much for writing about that right now.

While I was gone, one of my close friends from high school got in a car crash and died. Mind you, I went to a pretty small private K-12 school with my graduating class having 30 people, so even if you weren’t friends with everyone you knew everyone pretty well. I graduated 8 years ago, and most of us in that class had been attending the school since Kindergarten or 1st grade, so we were really a family. For the most part we’ve kept in touch, so this one hurts pretty bad.

25 years old, lost control of her vehicle on ice and ran into a barn. Her passenger lost his life as well. It’s hard for me to adequately put into words how I’m feeling. Just a few weeks ago she told me she was planning on moving down here to the DC area to finish law school and now she’s gone. Now I’m reminded of how fragile we really are. So many days I’ve said “I wish I could just go away and die” to get away from whatever small issue I’m having at the time, even though I don’t really mean it. Those words have an eerie echo in my head as I look at her picture in the obituary section of my hometown newspaper. *sigh* The tears…I haven’t even bothered to wipe them.

Sonja,

I will carry your memory around with me everywhere I go. We all miss you and wish you were still with us, but we take comfort in knowing that you’re in the Creator’s Paradise now. It looks like Heaven didn’t want to wait for you because I’m sure you have some important things to do up there; just make sure you save a place for me. May you rest in eternal peace girlie, I love ya.

On the road again…

I’m headed home to see the fam, have a good weekend!

Traumatized!

Like most red-blooded humans, I thoroughly enjoy a romp in the sheets. And of course I understand that when the gettin’s good, things can get loud or make you do stuff you wouldn’t normally do.  But I’m also a big fan of respect.

There’s a time and place for the freak to come out, and mama’s house is definitely NOT the place. I don’t care if I’ve been married 900 years and my parents are completely senile, I will not do the mattress rhumba in their house. When D and I visit, we sleep in the same bed but with the door cracked or open. I’m a grown azz woman, yes, but I will always respect their house. When we have guests, we show the same respect (and expect that the same be shown to us). I assumed that most people operate that way, but I found out the hard way.

My parents like to chill in their bedroom because they have a comfy setup in there with the flat screen and super soft chairs. I can’t blame them; if my bedroom had all the “I can afford it now because all the kids are grown” extras, I’d stay posted up in there too. They always keep their door closed to keep their cat and dog out, so before I go in I ALWAYS knock. Usually when I knock, one of them will say “yeah” or “hold on”. Well, the last time I went home, I heard the WRONG kind of “yeah”.

I walked in to find my mama face down ass up, and my stepdad umm *shudder*…well you get the idea. Shock, horror, and the fastest getaway ever ensued. Now I understand the true meaning of those S.out.hwest Airlines “need to get away” commercials. After many years of denial, I finally got to the point where I accepted that my mother had to have sex at least twice to create my brother and I. But this is one reality I don’t want to accept *sigh*.

I spent the rest of the night staying away from them. The next morning, the just laughed it off. Really!? That shit is not a laughing matter whatsoever. Just thinking about it now makes me want to cry.

Me and D are going up to see them this weekend, and I’m not sure I’m ready for this. How am I supposed to look them in the eye? Ugggghhh! And my mom wants to go look at bridesmaid and mother of the bride dresses, so I have no choice but to be around her for an extended period. My goodness, I feel like a parent that just faced the harsh reality that my kids are all grown up and having sex. *shudder again*

Have any of yall ever walked in on your parents/siblings/friends? Get at me in the comment box.

Ummm…yeah

Hey yall, I made it back from the grave. I’m no where near feeling 100%, but at least I’m not feeling like 8-day-old dog shit anymore.

I went back to work, but only for 4 hours. Since moving around makes my chest pain worse, they gave me the option of doing half or quarter days until I’m able to work a full 8 hours. I’m loving the new job so far. It was nice to take a leave of absence and go back to a brand new position with a new office all to myself. I’m out of the cubicle farm!

Anyway, have you ever noticed that when you’re sick, people ask the most ridiculous questions and make the most ignorant remarks?

In the break room at work while getting coffee~

Nosey azz woman: “Ohmygoodness, you look like hell. That sickness you have makes you look sick”

Me: “Thanks. Sicknesses usually make me look sick.”

N.A.W.: “So if you’re here, why do you look sick still? Do you still have that problem?”

Me: “Yeah, but I’m doing better so I’m doing a few hours at a time until I’m completely well”

N.A.W.: “Well you can go to Sephora and get makeup that makes you look healthy. I think it’s called Clear Minerals. My sister says it works. You need to do it so nobody here thinks you are ill”

Me: “Mmm. Riiiight. I’ll check that out.”

In the ER waiting room (during the 2nd visit)~

Hood Rat: “Yo. I had that shit once. That shit makes your chest hurt.”

Me: “Huh? What did you have?”

Hood Rat: “Yooou knoooow. The shit that makes your chest hurt.” *makes weed smoking gesture*

D: “She’s here to find out what she has that’s making her chest hurt. But I promise you it’s not the same thing you had.” *flashes badge on the slide*

Hood Rat: “Oh my fault. Hope you feel better, ma” *walks away*

On the phone with my cousin who lives 300 miles away~

Me: “I’ve got Pleurisy. My lung lining and chest wall are infected and inflammed. It’s starting to get better though”

Cousin: “What the fugg? Is that shit contagious?”

Me: “No.”

Cousin: “Good. Cuz I don’t want to catch that shit”

Me: “You’re playing right?”

Cousin: “Nah cuz. I can’t be getting sick right now. I’m still on probation with my new job!”

Me: “Wooooooow. You can’t catch stuff over the phone, even if I was contagious.  I can’t believe you, girl”

Cousin: “Whatever! I can’t believe you gettin all defensive ’cause I’m just tryin to protect myself. I hope you feel better. But I gotta go. I’ll talk to you this weekend.”

Me: “Uhhhh. Okay? Take care, later”

Not So Fast

I spent the weekend in the hospital again with chest pains again. I wasn’t confident about the doctors’ diagnosis of a sinus infection, plus my chest pains had gotten worse to the point of me passing out when I exerted myself too much.

So after another agonizing 6 hour wait, 2 chest x-rays, an EKG, and another CT Scan the doctors figured out that I have Pleurisy (basically an inflammation/infection of my lung lining and chest wall). Fun, not so much.

They gave me some gooood knock-me-out drugs, and that’s how I’ve been for most of the last 24 hours…knocked the hell out.  But I can’t do ANYTHING. Almost everything I do leaves me writhing in pain that radiates from my chest to my back and down my arms. So as I’m walking to the kitchen for a drink my body lets me know ‘not so fast heffa!’. I’m miserable. I can only sit on the couch for so long, and the doctors have me on injured reserve for at least 10 days.

I go back to work tomorrow (in a brand new position–sista’s movin up in the company!), and there is a chance I might not be able to go. Sitting up for longer than an hour is bad business, so hopefully I can get it together to work at least a half day. My boss is already aware and has told me to take as long as I need, but I’m really ready to get to work.

I would complain bitterly about this, but I know this is my body’s way of telling me I need to listen to it more. Less stress, etc for the new year. My body has been working overtime, and it needs to rest. *sigh*

I’ll be posted up on the sofa if you need me. *sigh* 

Hospital Hospital

It’s 2:30 AM and I just got back from the ER. I went because I was having chest pains and head numbness–wanted to make sure it wasn’t a stroke or some other serious ish (I’m fine. It’s a sinus infection of all things).

Anyhoo, while I was there a girl and her mother showed up cuz apparently the girl was having some type of flare up. “We’re baaaack! Blah Blah Blah…(ad nauseum)” the (supposedly) sick girl said to every nurse within earshot. And each nurse rolled her eyes in disgust. “And they put me on Percocet and Dilaudid. Oh yeah, in case you didn’t know Dilaudid is a hydromorphone. HAHAHA silly me, you’re a nurse/tech/someone wearing scrubs, so you should know that already. I’m studying to be a (insert healthcare professional title here) so I’m so helpful” That’s all I heard for about 3 hours. Which I won’t get back.

You know you need to get a new hobby, or maybe go to a different ER when the nurses, the technicians, and the fuggin dude with the broom know who you are. Really, that.shit.is.not.cute. I don’t care if you’re in your 23rd year of nursing school (due to graduate May 44th, 2000-nope), let the people do their jobs. They don’t want to hear about how well your painkiller-poppin azz is doing in (whatever type of medical professional) school, nor do they want to hear about the difference between Oxycontin and Percocet (trust me, they already know). They want to drop you off at the CT Scan room and pick you up in 15 minutes, then discharge your silly ass as quick as they can.

That’s exactly why I hate going to the ER. “My sister’s cousin-in-law had a great nice once removed who used to be a nurse. So I know what I’m talking about and I demand to be seen for my hangnail before the lady who is bleeding from her brain. Dammit”. Ugh!

Ok, I’m done venting, I’mma go to bed now.

Wednesday Randoms – Gym Edition

The crap that’s on my mind after leaving the gym…

-I know we go to the gym to sweat, and sometimes sweat stinks. But there is NO REASON for me to be able to smell your snatch while you’re on the thigh machine next to me. I don’t care if T.O.M is here, it is still mandatory that you wash up. Or at least spray some of that Summer’s Eve stuff before you get near people.

-That sauna suit thing that looks like a garbage bag…save it for the boxing ring or for when you’re “Sweatin’ To The Oldies with Richard Simmons” at home. It looks completely foolish. Ok, so it makes you sweat more and lose water weight, but don’t you know that as soon as you take a sip of Gatorade, you gain all of that water weight back?

-Wearing a wig to the gym isn’t smart, nor is putting on a face full of makeup before you get on the elliptical machine. I tried to warn you in the locker room. The muscle-head dudes will still holla at you even when your hair is looking nappy and your face bare. They just like to see a woman working it out.

-Why the hell are you talking on your cell phone and trying to run? You sound like a German Shepard gasping for air. Call them back later. Your lungs and all of us who are in earshot of your convo will thank you.

-Speaking of lungs…smoking a cigarette before and after your workout is bad. Here’s a coupon for some Nicorette. Good luck, I know withdrawal is a sonofabitch. But you’ll be better off in the end.

-Girlfriend. This is the gym, not the catwalk. If you don’t match, it’s okay. Nobody gives a hot damn what brand your spandex is. CoolMax, huh? Champion, oh yeah? Getthefuggouttahere with that; I’m trying to work out.

-Yo son. Stop dropping the weights and making that nasty ass grunt noise. We all know you’re strong and ripped. You don’t have to throw it in our faces.

-Bruh. Do NOT EVER under ANY circumstances wear short shorts to the gym again unless you have some spandex bike shorts under them. Deez Nutz have taken on a whole new meaning because of your outfit, and frankly I’m traumatized. Do I make myself clear?

-I can’t wait for the new years resolution crowd to thin out. People crowding the gym, knowing that they ain’t gon’ be there come February.

-Thank you gym for fixing the TV’s. I can’t do treadmill and elliptical on ipod alone.

Really? Vol. 1

This is the first installment of things I’ve seen around the way that leave me saying, “Really?”.

I caught this one at the grocery store a few days ago:

No experience necessary to be a resident? Really???

I guess that means they’ll take people who’ve never lived anywhere before. Raised by wolves even. I wonder if I’d get a better rent price because I have years of experience living places. Wow, lets see…I’ve lived in my mama’s house, dorm room, a couple of apartments, townhouse. Jeez, I may just be overqualified.

I kinda wonder if the owner of the apartment complex is in the “Work at home, no experience needed. Make million$$$” business, and decided to cut corners and combine his advertisments to save money.

Maybe the next ad will be “Heart Surgeons Wanted. No Medical Knowledge Required. Malpractice Insurance Provided at No Cost.” Booooo.

Foodie Foul-up

How do you go about telling someone that their food is messing up your flow? I don’t mean like sending me in a midnight search for an industrial-size bottle of Kaopectate or Pepto Bismol. I mean more like charring my nose hairs and destroying my appetite and my ability to smell.

While each unit in our building has its oiwn heating controls, I think all of our vents are connected. Over the last six weeks or so, at least once a day, there has been a beyond funktastic burning smell permeating every room of our place. The first few times I smelled it, I got my bloodhound on and started sniffing anything that might be burnt/on fire/used as a prop in “Backdraft”–stove, computer wires, surge protector, D in the bathroom. Nothing. So I opened the door and went in the hallway and smelled the most awful combination of fried what the fuck, lighter fluid, and charcoal dust.

I was nauseated, but I kept sniffing and figured out where it was coming from. Nasty non-cookin’ asses downstairs. Hmmph! But I was nice and let it go the first few times. “Trying out new recipes for Christmas”, I figured. Why couldn’t I have been right? It’s way past holiday cooking time, and the smell is just getting worse. It’s awakened me from some good drool-all-over-my-chin type sleep, ruined dinner, and made D sick.

I’m thisclose to knocking on their door and handing whoever opens a copy of “The Joy of Cooking” and a takeout menu. Seriously though, almost everyone in the building is fed up. We’ve all complained to each other about the smell, and our sweet upstairs neighbor even offered to buy some incense to burn in the hallway while the downstairs neighbors “cook”.

I can’t keep going like this. Would it be smart if all the building residents took the issue to the property manager? What would yall do in this situation? Get at me in the comment box.