I needed to get out of the house last night, especially after watching my mother stand and admire her brand new baby… Baby Grand piano, that is, from across the room. Many, many times. I almost gagged when I saw the lust in her eyes. I wanted to find a (mostly) sharp object and hurl myself onto it just to get away from the sickeningly happy look on my mother’s face. Jeez, you’d think she just found love for the very first time… very rich love with lots and lots of gold and jewels. Smeared in cake and ice cream.
(Cue music: "Oooh Sweet Mystery at last, I've finally found yooouuu!" This photo can be found on DeviantArt.com. Just click here to see!)Bleh, I think I’m going to be sick.
So I got myself out of the house for a bit. These days I don’t have a whole lot of energy, so I wasn’t planning on going very far. After huffing and puffing my way up the stairs (and subsequently taking a five minute break at the top to catch my breath…), I made my way out the door, into my car, and over to the nearest Walmart. Yeah, thrilling, I know.
Walmart: where the weak-minded and thin-pursed congregate to butt heads and shopping carts with one another. Walmart: where there is no shortage of dim-witted rude people eager to place judgment on you once they’ve succeeded in taking a comprehensive glimpse into your cart to examine its contents. Ahh yes… Walmart. The place everyone loves to hate, but eventually find themselves going back again and again because of those wacky low prices. Curse those everyday low prices and that menacingly cheerful smiley face that adorns every sale sign!
Hello, my name is Carrie and I am a Walmart shopper.
Putting all drama aside, I was pretty dang proud of myself for making it all the way out to Walmart AND having the gumption to actually get out of the car and do the shopping I’d intended to do.* I took my time hobbling down the aisles of the Wal-Mart super store and found myself going over the mental list I’d made of what I’ll need for THE bag. You know, The Hospital Bag… the one thing you hope to high heaven you don’t forget in your rush/panic to get to the hospital when all hell (a.k.a. your water) breaks loose. After all, that was the whole purpose of my errand this evening: to get the goods that will fill my Hospital Bag.
Items on this list included but were not limited to:
- travel toothpaste (I’ve already got the toothbrush and mouthwash)
- small bottle to hold shampoo (because I don’t trust hospital brand shampoo)
- heartburn medicine (a necessity of life for me, doesn’t matter if’m preggers or not
- Ace bandage (for the binding of the bubs… if you don’t know what I mean then you’re not ready to know)
- pads of the maxi sort *sigh*
- Puffs Ultra tissues (I’m expecting a snot storm. Getting teary-eyed tends to lead to snotting on one’s self)
-Snack Wells brand devils food cake snacks (I’ve heard it’s normal to be famished during or after the process of birthing a baby. Go figure.)
…and most importantly…
- Tucks and/or Preparation H medicated wipes
That last item would’ve scared the bejeezums out of me to purchase at any other time in my life. But tonight? Not so much. Let’s just say that I got enough Tucks and PrepH wipes in my cart to make anyone nervous of being within a 10-foot-radius of me for fear I might shoot deadly flames out of my rear.
The mere thought of which made me smile.
But seriously, you should’ve seen the looks I got from the people there at Walmart! When I was in the toiletries section picking out my toothpaste two dudes of a Latino nature strolled by at different times. However, both men managed to eyeball my belly not just once, but at least three times. EACH. Their technique was sloppy, though, as was obvious by the fact that I was staring right back at them to see if they’d actually raise their eyes to my FACE. No such luck. I have to admit that I was a bit amused by the whole thing, though, since they’d obviously taken a peek at all the “feminine protection” items I’d piled into my cart. And by “feminine protection,” I don’t mean a chartreuse flame thrower.
Besides, they probably had no clue they were staring quite as intensely as they had been. And if they were aware, they probably thought they were being sneaky, staring at the big, round, tired-looking Juera.**
Those guys were just the first obvious gawkers of the evening. My favorite of all the gawkers, however, also happened to be the last.
She had passed me in the baking goods aisle where I was contemplating buying more tapioca. As I stood there calculating just how much tapioca I could consume, a mousy-looking woman in a brown trench coat walked by ever-so-slowly, taking her sweet time to examine the contents of my cart (by this time I’d sort of tried hiding the massive quantities of butt wipes I had piled up in my cart under the huge bag of maxi pads. Not that it made any real difference). I also saw how her critical eye then slid over to my pregnant belly.
What was a little surprising was the fact that she took a double-take. And on top of that, I was disturbed by her look of disgust and disbelief. It was at that time that I reached out and grabbed her mousy brown hair and yanked her head back, pulling it down to my belly while shouting, “go ahead, have a good stare! Take it all in because you’ll never know what it’s like with a rat face like that!”
Ok, okaaaay, so I didn’t actually do or say that, although I sure wanted to. Just the thought of it made me smile. But I didn’t do it because that would’ve been rude, and I sort of felt sorry for her having to look so much like a rat.
Instead, I found that I’d unconsciously chosen the same checkout stand as her, and was morbidly amused by her shock that I’d followed her. Yes, she took yet another double-take, only this time she looked at my face, which expressed a deep exhaustion and a fierce, “don’t EFF with me or I’ll set you on fire with my flame-throwing ASS!” look as I glared right back at her.
I smiled for the third time that night as she scurried away. Hmph. Wimp.
(Everybody sing with me: "THE SUN IS A MASS OF INCANDESCENT GAS, A GIGANTIC NUCLEAR FURNACE...WHERE HYDROGEN IS BUILT INTO HE-LI-UM AT A TEMPERATURE OF MILLIONS OF DEGREES! THE SUN IS HOT, THE SUN IS NOT A PLACE WHERE WE COULD LIVE... BUT HERE ON EARTH THERE'D BE NO LIFE WITHOUT THE LIGHT IT GIVES!" *bum bum*)
Footnotes:
*Lately I’ve found it incredibly difficult to find the motivation to do those more mundane tasks, like grocery chopping, going to the library, or turning over in bed. You may laugh now, but wait until YOU’RE eight months pregnant and ready to pop. Yeah, that’s right. Suddenly it’s not so funny anymore and you find yourself thinking, “do I really need to wash my hands again? I mean, I washed them the 6 other times I got up in the middle of the night to pee and my hands are bleeding and cracking, they’re so dry. Surely I haven’t gotten that much fecal germ matter on my hands in the brief time it took to trickle out what little pee I could muster, right?” Then, shuddering at the thought of a fleck of rogue fecal matter making it onto your hands which will, no doubt, make it to your face sometime before the next pee break, you sigh deeply and proceed to wash your hands for the 7th time that night.
**According to the Urban Dictionary, a “Juera” (pronounced WHERE-ah, only you roll the ‘r’) is, “a white girl, especially a blonde female. An American girl.” Of course, I didn’t need the Urban Dictionary to tell me this since I’d found out the meaning the hard way. In two words: sexual harassment. I quit that job shortly after what I refer to as The Juera Incident. I’ll never understand why Latinos/Mexicans (whatever the more appropriate politically correct term-du-jour is) fancy us blondes so much.
Life for me has been rather complicated as of late, and I do apologize for not blogging as often as we’d all like. But the way I see it, rather than ranting on and on about how crap-tastic everything has been for me, I’d just shut my trap until something a little more positive or amusing happened. I hope you don’t mind. Besides, who cares about overly-hormonal-pregnant-lady-going-through-withdrawals issues? I know *I* don’t. ;)
("Grrr!" Click on the photo to see the artist's page.)
Moving right along….
Let me just start by asking you this:
Have you ever tweezed your nose hairs before? Yeah, just a friendly heads-up:
DON’T DO IT! It’s a trap! A conspiracy, I say!
Holy crapola. I think my eyes watered for a good twenty minutes straight, which of course immediately led to me snotting all over the place. My poor shnoz… It feels like its swelling or something, as though I’ve just pierced it with a rusty needle a hundred million times in the same spot. OWIE! *pouty lip*
(Look at that adorable shnoz! See... HE doesn't have to tweez. Hmph.)
And all I can think of now is how men had better appreciate the lengths to which women go in order to maintain their beauty. *sniffle*
*****************************************************Today I felt like splurging a little on myself since I’ve accomplished so much this week. So, to treat myself I bought some Halibut-n-Chips for lunch (worth approximately $12) from a café in the Harbor. I also stopped by (*gasp!*) Starbucks and got myself a decaf Raspberry Latte (since I’ve seriously lowered my caffeine intake since I’m consuming for 2 now), and a chocolate donut. Mmmm. It was nice to treat myself. After all, I’ve had to eat enough crap sandwiches lately to feed a village.
(Mmmm... bring on the crap sandwiches! Yes, I'm fully aware that the little girl looks like she belongs in a horror movie. Creepy!)
My mother was also feeling the need to splurge a little today. To treat herself, she went out and bought a piano. Typical.
But let's put things into perspective here. Why, just the other day she told me that she was once bucked off of a horse and landed on her head. Need I say more?
*****************************************************While I was out and about today I found myself driving behind a minivan with tinted windows. What made me smile was the fact that the kids in the back of the minivan were under the impression that I couldn’t see them. They started sticking their tongues out at me and making crazy faces. So, naturally, I stuck my tongue right back out at them. Soon enough we were in a face-making contest, only I let them win because I wasn’t in the mood to scare them with my ultra-impressive fingers-pushing-the-nose-up-and-eye-lids-down look that has won me many-a-face-making-battle in my days.
Besides, I was laughing too hard. Their poor mom already had enough to deal with. *beaming*
*****************************************************So I cancelled my MySpace account good and proper earlier this week. The dirty bastards. See, I went on there to respond to an email I’d gotten from someone I thought was pretty cool but hadn’t heard from in over a year. And after spending the time it took to write her a nice long email, I was informed that my email hadn’t passed the spam filter. WTF?! So when I attempted to go to my home page I was then informed that my account had been phished. Not only that, but it was suddenly difficult to navigate around the site. Then after changing my password again, I was once AGAIN informed me that my account had been phished.
That did it for me—I’d had enough. So, after deleting all of my photos and going through the account cancelling process, I was led to a page where they asked why on earth I would possibly want to leave the all-mighty MySpace. And I cheerfully took a moment to state the following:
“The security on this site SUCKS ASS. Every time I log onto this site my computer freezes, and the ads you have on here are incredibly obnoxious. I’m tired of getting spam, phished, and whatever other crapsandwiches that float around on here like virtual STDs.”
(Cat = me unleashing my kung-fu powers on slobbering dog = MySpace)
And with that I hit the cancellation confirmation. And it felt gooooood.
*****************************************************
Ok, so I know that this isn't technically a blog, but I figured it's been too long since I've posted. I originally posted this on Facebook (yes, it's one of THOSE deals), but I figured that just because it was one of those trendy little surveys floating around the FaceBook-o-sphere doesn't make it any less true. Or fun. Or Nerdalicious! So I'm re-posting it here in the hopes that these 25 Random Things About Me might bring a slightly crooked smile to your face. OH, and don't be shy... let me know what you think!
25 Things About ME!1. I am currently in love with Safeway's Baked Potato Soup. I bought three tubs of it yesterday and am sad to report that I just cracked open tub #3 for dinner tonight. You know what they say about potato soup... "It fills the cracks of the heart." *snort*
2. I stole that quote from the movie Mall Cop, which I've never seen. But I've heard the clip many times on my favorite talk radio show called Too Beautiful To Live (TBTL), which airs M-F from 7-10pm. I ADORE that show because they are freakin' hilarious, play awesome music 'bumps,' and actually do NOT discuss politics. I heart TBTL. Forizzle.
3. I love to laugh and have a seriously twisted sense of humor.
4. I have a retarded middle finger. Don’t mess with me or I might be forced to show it off to you, suckuhs.
5. I’m an audio book addict. I bought an iPod just so I could listen to audio books while I’m doing things like grocery shopping and going for walks. I do most of my “reading” that way and it freakin’ ROCKS! Plus, I listen to the TBTL podcasts on my iPod regularly. Rawr!
6. I love to blog, and love it even more when people comment on it. I just recently set up a new blog at http://DreamsAreFerFree.blogspot.com/ and all are welcome to read and leave your thoughts (comments)! Please. No, really, I’m begging you.
7. My younger brother and I almost got kicked out of Disneyland back in the 80’s because we got caught spitting off the sky ride. They’ve since torn that ride down… I wonder why?
(click on the photo to see the artist’s page!)8. I hate mangoes. They make me gag.
9. I have an incredibly bad memory. No, I’m dead serious! And it’s not because I did any drugs or anything. I’ve just always had a terrible memory. I barely remember high school, let a lone anything else before it. Heck, there are loads of things I don’t remember that happened AFTER high school. It’s only gotten worse now that I’m pregnant. I’ve always figured my bad memory was a blessing, though, because that way it’s nearly impossible for me to hold a grudge against someone. Just, please don’t be surprised if I can’t remember your name, ok?
10. I think it’s absolutely disgusting when people don’t wash their hands with soap and water after “potty time.” *shudders*
11. I’ve been robbed at gunpoint before.
12. I don’t watch TV. As a result I’m pop-culturally retarded.
13. I’m a huge believer in visual aids. Can’t you tell? ;) And the secret to my photos? I snag most of them from www.DeviantArt.com, but you’ve gotta be careful because they’ve got a crap load of AWFUL photos, including very graphic ones. So filters help! And since I snag other peoples’ work, I always make sure I turn the photo into a link to that artist’s page so that I’m giving them their due credit. Heck, I’ll be the first to admit that I have no talent for photography! But I can definitely admire the works of those who do. *beaming*
14. I have a phobia of what I lovingly refer to as “Overflowing Toilets of Nastiness.” I dream of them at a bare minimum of once a week, although I can safely say that I average dreaming about horrific potty experiences around 3-4 times per week. Yeah, I’ve got issues.
(p.s. I couldn’t bring myself to post the nastier photos I found of toilets because of my phobia. Seriously, I wanted to puke.)
(p.p.s. I would HIGHLY recommend NOT looking for photos of toilets on www.DeviantArt.com. Apparently there’s some sort of fetish that involves toilets that I found to be incredibly disturbing. Just FYI!)
15. In the past decade alone I’ve lived in six different states: Washington, Utah, Texas, New Jersey, New York, Missouri. Moving sucks duck butts.
16. I have a passionate hatred for: Monkeys, Incense, Patchouli, Booger Bubbles, Violence, and Lies.
17. I am so good at handing out advice but am terrible at keeping it myself.
18. I have a passionate love for: Ice Cream, Peach flavored Fresca, Iced Water, Flowers (but not floral print clothing), Cats…ok, my cat in particular, Law Enforcement, Witty Banter, and Back Rubs.
19. I’ve always wanted but have never had beautiful legs. Mostly, I’ve wanted hot legs so I could wear funky socks and tights, like the ones pictured below. Instead my legs don’t see the light of day due to the wear-n-tear of age and bad veins. *sigh* Isn’t it true that we always want what we can’t have?
(click on the photo to go to the artist’s page!)
20. I have double jointed fingers and toes.
21. I can’t stand Alanis Morissette’s music, but every time I go sing karaoke I sing her song, “You Learn.” That, and Dido’s “Here With Me.” I’m a sucker.
22. I am a firm believer in being grateful! And right now I am SUPER grateful for Rolaids and Tylenol PM. And sleep. And strawberries (they're the new pineapple!).
23. I *love* doing laundry!
24. Phlebotomists love me because I have transparent skin and great big fat veins.
25. I’m good for accidentally walking into a men’s bathroom at least once a year.
(It's just ahead!)
I can't help but wonder if I'm the only one who is reminded of Madonna when looking at this photo. In particular, her choice of braziers. Just wondering!
