A Good One! Or Two.

What I love about these "reality" talk shows like Jerry Springer, for instance, are the comments from the audience.

I just HAD to share this one with you all because, well, it still has me chuckling.

Comment made to a transvestite (and an U.G.L.Y. one too, not one of those gorgeous ones!) by a really pretty female audience member:

"Honey, I know you got hit with an ugly stick, but DAYUM, did you have to hit every single branch on the way down the tree?"

bwahahahahahahaha. That IS good. I've never heard that before.

And a comment said to me today on the phone by someone (a male) trying to spell a company name to me...

Him: "P-T-D. P for Paul. T for Tree. D for... Degenerate."

Me: ------------blank look------"uhh"---------

Me: "Did you just say DEGENRATE OR AM I HEARING THINGS?"

Him: "Yeah. Degenerate. WHAT?"

Me: "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhaaaa NO YOU DIDN"T! HAHAHAHAH DEGENERATE!??!!"
" Oh my God. Off the top of your head? "

Him: *laughing with me*"Well, what would you suggest Cyn?"

Me: "Oh I don't know, how about..... D for DOG?"

Him: "Well, I guess there is that."

Then both of us proceeded to laugh our buts off for a while longer until I eventually subsided into little giggles. Yeah. Giggles. Good thing I know him pretty well, huh? Extremely professional of me, isn't it?

As if I could control myself? As is, today, not much later, I heard one of the Sr. bosses say loudly to a manager in his office "well, your 5 minutes you asked for is up. Thanks!" to which he got up and walked out of his office leaving them sitting there.

This sent me in to fresh guffaws doubled over on my desk trying to muffle the almost shrieks escaping me.

At least my bosses like it when they make me laugh. This added to the fact that I picked up a pepsi from a fast food rest that was sitting on my desk, and the second I got the straw near me for a sip, the whole damn thing overflowed like a volcano... on my blouse, on my lap DOWN MY BLOUSE. It was like a puddle in my cleavage of Pepsi. Thank heavens my blouse was shades of brown and beige today. Poor H, my assistant, she was sitting in front of me and went into hysterics. I can't say I blame her. She told me "You should have seen your FACE!".... really, my week wanted only something like this.

Now then.

Any one have questions?

Carrie Jo? Ollie? ANYONE? Helloooooooooooooooo? Whasamatter? Yer fingers broken? Careful now, I've got a Pirate Wench friend now who'll make ya walk the plank!

I'm waitin. *twirls a lock of hair between fingers*

The Brain Fart

That phrase, my friends, is the best thing to ever come out of Britney Spears' mouth. (Notice I said come out of, not go in? Heh heeeeee, I'm bad)

Anyhoo, it's the best thing Britney did because I had one, obviously,which Wenchie so adorably reminded me of. It seems I forgot - GASP!!!- to ask y'all to hit me with your Inquisition questions this week. My bad. (Why am I tempted to do a Dobby-like punishment of myself?) (for those of you with a blank look on your face, Dobby, the house elf from Harry Potter? Bashes the shit out of himself when he does something wrong with the nearest wall, or piece of furniture? Sigh. Go watch a H.P. movie, willya?)

So. QUESTIONS. BRING. THEM. ON.EVERYONE. I'm ready. (I think) Yes Wenchie, this means YOU!

Now WHY Did I Do That?

I'm sure many of you have had people joke with you about putting your mobile phone on 'vibrate' and sticking it in your pocket, right? haha. Something along the lines of "the phone company will be running a test during which your cell phone will be vibrating for 10 minutes, sit on it and enjoy." or something like that. Yeah. Lord knows I have had it said to me and SMS'd it in return. I mean, it's a joke. Who the hell would actually do such a thing, right? Do you know anyone that would do such a thing? No?

Well now you do.

But I did not, I repeat DID NOT do it on purpose!!

I was at work and as a rule, I switch my mobile phone to silent. Now, whatever mode my phone may be in, it's always on "vibrate" as well, just so that I can notice it jumping around when it rings. Problem is that on this day I forgot to switch it to "silent" so it was on the usual MAX ringing volume 5 when I was talking to my assistant in my office. It started ringing loud and as there were lots of people around, including bosses, and I didn't want to get nailed for the phone ringing, I snatched up the phone with every intention of muffling the sound as best and as quickly as I could.

So I sat on it.

And then promptly jumped about a foot in my chair ("WOoooOH!") because I remembered about the whole vibration alert thing a little late. Like when it was under my buttcheek. My assistant was chuckling her head off (who could blame her, really?) and in the end I was laughing too. But hey! At least the sound was muffled and the phone didn't ring very long.

You know something? Those phones have quite a lot of kick in them!

I pray ONE of you at least can tell me they've done something almost as dumb as this. I feel like such an....ass. And a vibrating one at that!

A Good Friend

Do you know what the sign of a really good friend is?

When you are feeling absolutely rotten, sad and down, moping and brooding all over the place and feeling a million miles away from the people that know and love you best. (Homesick x 100)

The phone rings, and it is your friend that lives in a completely different country on the other end of the line whose dear voice you haven't heard in ages calling for no specific reason other than to tell you how much they miss you and love you and when-oh-WHEN are you going to get around to bringing your ass over for a visit? (I'm trying honey, really, I'll be there before, oh, the end of the decade? Haha!)

That phone call is just what I needed, right when I needed it most. Never mind the fact that I was choked up by the end of the call, even as I laughed my tail off. How absolutely contradictory of me. It's amazing how much we crammed into such a short phone call particulary considering the fact that we speak in our own weird abbreviated code and double-time. .

So thanks, Breezie Lee, for the phone call. It and YOU was just what the proverbial Doctor ordered. You're a true-blue buddy and I love you for it. I was still in my funk, but feelin the love, long-distance style!

* Note to self : Must learn some Italian before visiting Breezie in Italy... whenever that will be.

Red Haze Of Fury

Most all of you know I have infertility problems. That I have had these problems for the past 15 years at least. Those of you that know me personally and well, know how much I love and adore children. God above, I'm not even safe in a grocery store, since I had a hard time keeping my hands off this happy little strawberry blonde 6 month old girl I saw just an hour ago. I wanted to squeeze and kiss her to pieces, (ok, and take her home to love forever) but contented myself with talking to her and getting a big toothless smile instead.

Therefore, when I read something like this, my Irish temper, which is usually like Mt. Etna with rare but explosive eruptions, snaps. Completely and totally.

Someone let me at this bitch, PLEASE? I could pound her murderous ass to pieces using my bare hands with a smile on my face until I got tired. I'd like to grab her by that poofy bleached hair and drag her naked over hot coals mixed with broken glass. (Creative, aren't I?)What made me even more furious? That the autopsy showed that the 3 year old girl and 9 year old boy FOUGHT BACK. Or tried to.

These poor babies were fighting for their lives against... their mother who allegedly (HAH!) (for all you politically correct people out there) stabbed them EACH over 200 times. Goddammit, look at the size of your average 3 year old. How the hell is there even space to stab one over 200 times?

I'm not a person given to hate, I'm really not. I've hated, truly, about 1 or 2 people in my entire life. Even monster I don't hate, but I really dislike her INTENSLY and she disgusts me.

But this Tonya bitch? I hate her. If she hated her kids that much, she should have given them to Social Services or a relative. I've been mad as a parent, I'm sure everyone has at one point or another, but to use several different knives to hack up your own kids? That you carried in your own body? That you stayed up late with when they were teething, or sick. That give you unconditional love just because you are Mama?

What really disgusts me is that I'm sure she is going to cite "temporary insanity" and get off, or just get stuck in a mental ward somewhere. I have one hope for her....and it's called jail justice. If you don't know what it is, just remember what happened to Jeffrey Dhammer. THAT is jail justice. Scott Pe*erson will proably get his, too.

God I'm so pissed I have chest pains.

I can't belive I just ranted a whole post about this. I think I'm going to be sick.

Later babies.

So Typical

"Recover Post" my ass, Blogger.com.

There is this cute little link-thingie staring at me from my blogger.com dashboard entitled "recover post". So, when I actually tried it after writing a LONG ASS POST (yes, even longer than usual to fully describe my trauma) and something went wrong, I tried to 'recover" said post with much hope.

It does NOT, repeat NOT, work, people.

But I bet you THIS post manages to get posted,huh?

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????*sob*

The Post In Which I Spill My Guts

Or something like that. I think I'll cut right to the chase this week, hmmm?


Cheryl b sounds like she has had one helluva hard time lately. Check out her question this week:

Have you ever gotten so fed up with your piece of shit job that you walked out in the middle of your shift? (something I may or may not have done last night hee hee)

First things first. Cheryl b!!! What damn rock have you been hiding under, woman? I’ve missed you honeybunch! *Huuuuuuuuuuuuug*

Now to answer your question.

Hell yes. Been so fed up I almost walked out the front door. Several times. Fortunately -or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it- right as I got anywhere near the front door, I remembered the bills and the car loan payment going to be due that stopped me in my tracks. Barely. Most of the time it was when I waiting tables with Cat and trying to put my ass through school.

Cat, remember the square dancers? UGH. (“Gee, who wants the table of 25 that just crawled in 15 min to closing?”) Molly fixed them but GOOOOOD. I totally didn’t mind (ok, only a little) what she did to them. Best milkshake that boy ever had. Yeah, I bet. Goddamn Schooner Sundaes and milkshakes. I still have nightmares about that crap. Do you? Pop Quiz Cat: what’s “Sub 55”? Heh. Bet I got you.

Speaking of Cat, here’s her question:

At what age will you stop trying to get pregnant?

I’ll stop trying when :

a) they tell me I have no more eggs or they are all dried up
b) they decide that I need a hysterectomy (I hope to God not!) or I’ve hit my menopause
c) my early 40’s
d) when I’m dead.

You know how I am Cat, when I set my heart and mind on something. Determined and patient.

Hey Pirate Wench! You are safe darling, when you asked me:

Have you ever been stalked or stalked someone yourself? (I hope I haven't used this one already, or I'm going to have to resort to "If you were ice cream, what flavor would you be?")


Well, I haven’t really stalked anyone technically, although I was with a friend who was stalking this guy she had a crush on in High School, but I was truly trying to talk her out of it cause it freaked me out. So I guess you could say I was an accessory to the stalker?

I don’t think my autograph hunting really counts, because, well, I went where I knew the celebrity would be (inside info from my boyfriend, my first true love), and as they say: I came, I saw, I conquered. (If any of you are a wee bit hung over, that means I got my autograph and/or photo and left.)

Been stalked? Um, there was this guy here that was sorta stalking me for about 3 years. But in a non-threatening kind of way. He saw me at the weddings and would always try to chat me up in dark parking lots as I was leaving (with my then-young daughter- HELLO???) and I wouldn’t give him the time of day. Then one day I was in the elevator at work with him and didn’t realize it, and about 30 minutes later, he called my office looking for me. Turns out he had called every single company in the building trying to find me till he succeeded. I told him I am married and he said “So?”, which irritated me more than anything. I politelty told him to take a hike. I think he is one of Z’s distant cousins or something too. Lame, no? What a dork.

As for the flavor of ice cream I’d be…. That all depends on which flavor is most lickable. Yes, I said LICKABLE.

For the record? Can I just say that Ollie has me green with envy at her freezerful of FREE, yes FREE Dove ice-cream bar samples. But I love her anyway. Ollie baby, just remember… sharing is caring.

Well thank you my lovlies for your questions. I just LOVE IT when I get questions.

Until my next post, see ya!

What's On…

This morning Z woke me up and said "You know something? You were singing in your sleep just now. You woke me up." Me, ever practical, said "What time is it? Oh. So basically you have to get ready for work anyway, hmm?" (yeah, I’m quick like this groggy and sleepy, imagine me wide awake with caffeine? Scary, huh?) Then, curious, I asked "How loud?" and he replied, "Loud enough to wake me up… and it was a slow song". Me : (in my head) So…. Loud enough to wake the dead, then. (Please understand that it took a 6.2 earthquake to wake his ass up, OK?) "Well, was I at least good?".

Hee hee heeeeeeeeeeeee.

So, further to my little nocturnal concert, I was thinking as I was driving today, -ok, when I wasn't singing-, "Hmm…. This is quite a mix of stuff, why not share the love?" And so I am. As if you give a damn. But Hey! It's my Haven, ie: I post, link, talk about, what I want, when I want. Nyah nyaaaah nyyyaaaaaaahhhhh! Every now and then when I'm surfing some of my favorite blogs, I notice that people mention what is their current playlist or what they are listening to lately and thought "why not?". I mean, I've picked up on some cool music that way!

So without further ado, the music that has me shaking my ass and other body parts, and singing my head off…. In the car, while watching a movie, listening to the radio, Italian & European Music TV (Love. It.), or, apparently, while sleeping…

Title / Artist

Keep This Fire Burning/ Beverly Knight
If There's Any Justice/ Lemar
Runaway / The Corrs
Breathless / " " (get the picture yet people?)
Best of The Corrs / The Corrs (ok, and the new CD too. Love THEM!)
*Signs / Snoop Dog featuring Justin Timberlake
*Femme Like You/ Kmaro
**I Just Wanna Live / Good Charlotte
Arms Wide Open / Creed
My Sacrifice/ Creed (Good Lord that singer is HOTT! )
*I Got It / Kevyn Lyttle
**Somebody Told Me / The Killers (it’s SO early 80’s)
**Billy Idol's Greatest Hits/ DHOH! Billy Idol (rowrrr)
*1/2 Step / Ciara featuring Missy Elliott
Someday / Nickelback
Astronaut (CD) / DuranDuran-my fave tracks,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10..you get it Since U Been Gone / Kelly Clarkson (what? WHAT??!!!!)
Angels / Robbie Williams
No Regrets/ Robbie Williams (I love an underdog, you realize?)
*, ** Rag Doll / Aerosmith (Hell, I love me some Aerosmith too!)
Love Is Only A Feeling / The Darkness (I wonder if it hurts to hit notes like that?)
Dové L'amore / Cher (I love me some Cher like a drag queen does)
Shania Twain's Greatest Hits / Shania Twain (Yeah, I like select country music too!)
Songs About Jane (CD) / Maroon 5. All. Of . It. Y’all.


General listening from the top of my head, and I realize probably like you really give a damn…

Luna (the CD) / Allesandro Safina (Yes, Opera. SHUT. UP. DAMMIT)
Somethin Stupid / Nicole Kidman & Robbie Williams
I Will Love You / Nicole Kidman (again) & Ewan MacGregor(,drool-EWAN)
Braveheart Soundtrack/ Various
Anything sung by……/ ENYA
Marc Anthony (aka. Mr. Jennifer Lopez. waaaaahhhaa)
Ricky Martin (he makes me shake my bon bon. heh.)
Pretty much anything with a bagpipe
You name it… / Beethoven
You name it… / Tchaikovsky
Whatever show tune enters my mind……
Duran Duran / Anything sukahs! They are MY GUYS!!!!!



* Means shaking my booty, and getting DOWN, y'all! A real "ass shaker"!
** Rocking out

This is by no means a complete list. Not by a LONGSHOT. I love latin music too. Don’t even get me started. Nuh-uh. There is actually more country music too, but it’s particular songs I like as opposed to artists.

What I listen to all depends on my mood, or what I’m feeling. You might catch me listening to a double CD of Adam Ant one day, Classical the other, and Aerosmith the next.

Feel free to tell me some of your favorites. Do we share any? I’m sure I’ve forgotten to mention hundreds.

SPILL!!!!!!!!!!!!! (pretty please?)

The Bird

Well dear readers, it seems we have a new take on an old favorite, courtesy of my Monster-In-Law.

It seems that I can't even go to the grocery store without some Sh*t going down at my house.

Today was a day off from school for Arianna and so she was having loads of fun with the live-in au pair I've arranged since I went back to work. Arianna really, REALLY likes her, and she is one picky kid, let me tell you! (For my peace of mind, you understand? Monster does NOT like to look after her granddaughter and throws it up in our face if she looked after her when I went to an interview or something so I said "F-her!" and arranged for the au pair, Shony. There are not babysitters like you find back home in the States, or in the West for that matter, so here? It's live-in nannies. Bless her heart, she does the laundry too!

Anyway, beyond MIL being an odd grandmonster for not liking to look after the kid, Ari doesn't like it either and it is a lot less hassle all the way around. It's worth every penny, since I have the aforementioned peace of mind. So.

You think you're safe going to the grocery store for a few items (literally), wouldn't you think? Yeah, I thought so too!

Not.

I came back 30-40 minutes later and heard the following:

1) Shony caught Monster throwing my SHOES across the (BIG) kitchen at the wall........ AGAIN. Usually she gets set off if a pair of my shoes is sitting next to Z's shoes. For some ffed up reason, this sets her off. Don't ask. Hell if I know why. Then again, if any of you have theories WHY, I'd LOVE to hear them. And speaking of clothes, personal effects, this leads me to….

2) MIL rummaging through the RUNNING washing machine-yet again- while I was away and taking MY STUFF ONLY out and tossing it EVERYWHERE. (Everywhere constitutes the following locations for your enlightenment: Behind the washer & drier and/or, on the floor wherever they may land and/or, (my personal WTF?? favorite) on top of the bowl of fruit in the middle of my kitchen table. Now me? All whites (me, Z, Ari) together to make up a load. Ditto for colors. Ditto for darks, you know to get optimum performance out of the machine and proper water useage. This drives MIL up the G.D. wall, seeing our clothes together. (No, not the kitchen one. Just in general) It would seem that the thought of my clothes being in the same wash cycle (much like the shoe situation) with her son's- you know, my husband!- is intolerable. Shony is completely baffled by this. Join the club honey. I mean, jeez. I'm MARRIED to the guy. You're freaking the hell out about my shoes sitting next to his or my clothes in the same washer? She must go completely APESHIT at the thought of he and I sleeping in the same bed together. And sweet lord, sometimes… you know, every once in a while, when we-gasp!- you know, do what most married couples do and have sex…his body is actually inside mine. You know, whenever THAT is. No wonder she freaks the f*ck out every time the door is shut and we are in there, nookie or not. By the way, did I ever tell y'all that one day she walked past Shony in my room and proceeded to take all of Z's work clothes (yeah, suits, dress shirts, ties, and belts) out of our closet and take them to her room? (Before ANY of you ask, NO, he said nothing about this even though I bitched my head off about it,(ok, I'm paranoid about her being near my closet, she has VERY STICKY FINGERS, if you get my drift) so he now has to go to MOMMY'S room to get dressed for work). I was so pissed, I told him "why don't you go sleep in her room too?" My bad. But it felt goooood.

So yeah, again with my laundry thrown all over the damn place. I really hate when she waits till they are clean AND dry and THEN dumps the clothes all over the damn floor. Best part? She lies about it. Now she tries to blame Shony. One teensy problem about this theory of hers…… she's been doing this crap for YEARS. Ie: waaaaay before Shony was ever in the picture. Liar liar pants on fire.

3) Now for the oddest and truly funny-in a sad sort of way- thing that happened while I was gone. Monster, pissed that Shony and Ari were having fun playing playstation or some such together, cursed them BOTH out pretty badly in Persian and then proceeded to flip them the bird. Or try to. Now this sent both Ari and Shony into bouts of hysterical laughter because instead of using the middle finger like the majority of the planet? She used her INDEX FINGER and wiggled it about. (I know about 75% of you made the motion with your own hand just to see the visual effect. Don't be embarrassed about it. I did it too. It's a hoot, no?) Arianna apparently laughed in her face, figuring out what she meant and said "Oh, you mean this?" and , well, did it properly and then, just to confuse her… made up her own version which entails doing the whole 'wiggle the finger thing" with your pinkie.

Now before any appalled people get all affronted about Ari doing the 'bird" properly, she knows what it is, but that she isn't allowed to use it (particularly around me!) Secondly, if anyone is offended that I don't reprimand her about being disrespectful to her evil grandmonster? I used to jump her tail about it every single time. But then? Monster was cussing me out and staring an all out war IN THE WHOLE DAMN FAMILY that I tell Ari off for nothing and punish her for nothing. (When what I was doing was admonishing her to treat elders with respect, don't talk to/ hit/yell at/ fill-in-the-blank, grandma like that) Basically, I'm fed up, so, I figure, Ari is just as big, physically, as monster, she can fight her own battles, especially if her Dad isn't going to involve himself in this. Kid has a lot of repressed anger towards G-ma because of all the stuff she's seen me go through- as a helpless spectator- all these years and the stuff she hears about me daily. Well, formally repressed anger. She doesn't take any crap anymore and gives as good as she gets.


So come on y'all, wiggle that index finger with me on the count of 3!!

1…………………..

2……………………………..


3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, Hell.

I'm kind of embarassed, actually. I completely forgot to ask y'all for Inquisition questions this week. Must have been the coffeecake muffin orgasm from yesterday. Yeah. that's it. So on that note...

Questions! Questions! I'm taking questions (and Pirate Wench, you do in fact get to ask me TWO this week, if you are so inclined.), so, as it's a bit of a late start, y'all have till Wednesday (as in the day after tomorrow) morning, 11:00 am Pacific Time to get your questions in to me.

ie: NOW, sukahs. I'm waiting with bells on (but I won't tell you where!!!!!!!!!!!) hee heee heeeee!!!

*bells tinkle*

MMMMmmmmmmmmm.......

I almost had an orgasm today at work. It was a near thing.

(Bet that got your attention, didn't it? Imagine the GOOGLE hits I'm going to get from this post. Heeeee, I'm such a blog whore sometimes!)

But I really did. Almost. Have. An Orgasm. A co-worker was very kind to assist me...

by giving me something new on the market here.... a Sara Lee Cinnamon Pecan Coffeecake Muffin. (Now, now, what did you think I meant??? Shame on you!) One bite of that coffecake muffin and I was moaning my head off, eyes closed in sheer bliss. Thank GOD I have my own little private office now and that my boss is away on a business trip. Whew!

It's. So. Goddamn. Good. Run.. don't walk(!!) to your nearest store and get one. See if I'm not right! (Which I am. Always.)

A question: based on this, does it mean if I eat more than one I can have multiple orgasms? I think I need to go shopping.

BYEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

Inquisition Confession Week 2 Gazillion and three

Hey babies! Tomorrow is Scarlett's Haven's FIRST BIRTHDAY!!!

Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to ME!

And to celebrate, I'm going to a friend's birthday tonight where I plan to get very friendly with the peach flavored vodka on the rocks, and/or lots of Amaretto most likely interspersed with rum. Most likely all , actually... Now to tide you over until you can find out how tipsy I ended up, read on babies, read on!

This week's questions read a little something like this:

Cheryl b asked me:

What is the weirdest thing you have ever eaten?

This is a good one. Really.

I’m not much into eating ‘unique things” in that, I’m basically a Beef, Chicken/Turkey or Veggies kind of woman. Well, don’t tell anyone (Shhhhh!) but I really LOVE me some BACON. I have a thing about eating cute animals. I just can’t do it.

Chickens? Ugly. Cows? Generally speaking? Ugly. Turkeys? FUGLY. Pigs? They fall into a middle ground. See, baby pigs are cute. Adult pigs? Ugly.

Things I won’t eat even if you beg me? Rabbit. Deer. Squirrel. Quail. Frog’s legs. *gag*. Snake. (Although I am of the opinion the only good snake is a dead one, preferably on my shoes or purse)

I don’t like eating odd organs and parts, either. My husband eats liver, chicken liver, and the neck and sucks on cartilage and crap from bones and it GROSSES ME THE HELL OUT. *gag, retch* And for some strange reason, that is the time he decides he wants a kiss from me. Sorry, um, nooooooooooooooo. Garlic I can handle. Onions, I can handle. Kidneys and liver and stuff? Um, NO. Those organs clean the crap out of our bodies and you wanna eat that? Hell no.

I think the weirdest thing I’ve eaten would have to a tie between be shark and elephant steak. Shark was in the form of soup and it was TOTALLY due to a language-barrier type accident…I think. It was when we were living in Paris when I was 8, and I asked an ADULT to order me chicken soup. I noticed it tasted funny. A few bites in… between much sign language and bad English… we finally figured out it was shark and next thing I knew? I was gagging and running for the toilet. Ditto for the steak.

Enough about the food. Damn, but I'm hungry.

Catrina made me nostalgic and her question is right on, since she knows me so well! Cat asked me….

Does Manama have any type of theater arts? If so, what plays have you seen recently?

Cat. The only real theater type stuff is in Arabic, and I can’t understand most of it,but it’s not what we are used to. I think it is in the works to make something to have such plays and stuff here. But not yet.

I’m DYING to go to the theater. Proper theater arts. I miss it So. I have to content myself with TCM Channel for now. That’s one of the things I want to do when I come home for my visit this year. Hit some quality production theater. And I know just who to drag with me!

Meow meow.

To my most favorite Pirate Wench- you get TWO questions next week due to the whole repeat thing. I understand darling. The rum made you do it. MWAH!

Between A Rock And A Hard Place


That is precisely where I was the other evening at my SIL’s barbeque.

We were all sitting with my SIL’s lovely Irish neighbor and the neighbor’s Mom, who was visiting from Ireland and reminds me- personality wise- of my dearly departed Nana, and we were all discussing culture differences between Middle Eastern, Irish and Western men in general terms. More specifically the whole ‘Mama’s Boy’ issue and also care/responsibility of the elderly between different cultures.

Hmmmmm. You know this was interesting and awkward, now wasn’t it? Yes indeedy.

It was one of those instances where if I had said what I really wanted to (ie: hello? Hypocrites?? Stop acting for the benefit of the neighbors.) it would have resulted in a knock down drag out battle where I most likely would have been dog piled on by my husband’s respective family members. So I bit my lip, then tongue, and dug my nails into my palm in an effort to keep my thoughts to myself. But damn me it was a close one.

Although I admit, to some extent, it STILL cracks me up just thinking about it.

I can’t stand hypocrites. I do my best not to be one in fact. So much so that when my daughter brings home the odd C in Math and her dad is telling me to “Say something to her about that!” I say, “Well, I really can’t I rarely did much better than that…. EVER in Math.” (yeah, and here I sit working in a bank. That is hilarious, don’t you think?) So when the conversation switched to where parents should go to when they are O.L.D, that Nana jr said “well, I assume I will be in an old folks home at some point like most others, even though it is my understanding that things are different here in this part of the world.”. To which everyone (yeah, you know who I’m referring to.. the whole damn lot basically!) showed proper horror and disgust saying “well in this culture, it is a sign of respect to take your parents in once they are old, and everyone takes care of the parents needs, etc..”

I listened to this ever-increasing load of complete and utter BULLSHIT with complete astonishment while trying very hard to control my usually very expressive face. I came so close to saying-and embarrassing the lot of BIG FAT LIARS- “oh, and none of you do jack shit for your mother, and YOU in particular, Ms. Showoff “I’m-stinking-rich-now-and-always-said-that-once-I-became-successful-I would-take-care-of-mom-and-get –her out-of-your-hair C&Z-and-get-her-her-own-apartment-and-a-full-time-maid-nurse-and-driver-to-take-care-of-her-but-that-was-also-a-complete-load-of-shit-because-now-she-has-to-nag-for-TWO-FUCKING-MONTHS-for-me-to-send-my-DRIVER-cause-I-can’t-be-bothered-to-take-her-myself-to-buy-her-some-bread-and-veggies-to-shut-her-nagging-ass-up-for-a-day-or-two,but-have-no-problem-flaunting-my-new-$30,000 diamond watch (has her eye on a Chopard one that costs $90,000,btw)-and-new-$5,000-dollar-diamond,gold,ruby and turquoise-chandelier-earrings.” (Are y’all gagging and retching by now? Oh Goooooood. I have company at the porcelain throne. Uh-huh. Fab.)

More horror and disgust at the way “westerners” take care of their elderly by dumping them in a ‘home’, etc ensued to which Nana Jr said “well, in some cases, the parents don’t WANT to live with their children - she went on to put everyone in their respective places, so I felt she had it well in hand at this point--They prefer somewhere else, or a home where they can get proper medical attention. Also, usually they go live with the eldest son or child.” To which some at the table STUPIDLY said “oh yeah, they usually do that here too, so that’s alike.” I made sure I stared at EACH ONE IN THE EYES.

Did I ever mention that Z is the second youngest of 7? Yes, I said second YOUNGEST. Uh-huh.

This became a very uncomfortable conversation because… well, for obvious reasons.

Then they moved on to the Mama’s Boys topic. Heh. It’s better I not even consider joining in this conversation. But you know something? The Irish ladies noticed my silence because I had been extremely animated and talkative until then.

Did I ever mention that Z never knows where ANYTHING is in the kitchen? Or his bureau drawers? Or his wallet for that matter. Ok, basically anything, anywhere. Good thing some things are attached, huh? Yeah.

What I really wanted to say was “Honey, the Irish have NOTHIN on guys here!” and both Irish ladies, particularly Nana Jr. were looking at me wonderingly.

I don’t think I’ve been this uncomfortable in a coon’s age. Can you blame me?

I can just imagine the comments I’m going to get on this. Oh yeaaaahhhh. Anyone gonna help me out from this boulder?

An Appetiser

First of all. I want questions. It's that time of the week again. You have roughly 48 hours to get your Inquistion question in. Just wanted to remind y'all is all. Thankseversomuch!!

Now then, I just HAD to blog this, cause it is really so damn funny. Well, at least I think so, for whatever that's worth.

Last night after dinner Z was sitting on the sofa watching-what else?- CNN holding one of our newest kittens whom I call Gypsy right now for lack of a better name, in his arms sitting on his chest. She can literally fit in your palm and her eyes opened last week. Gypsy is freaking GORGEOUS Y'ALL! She is pure snow white with huge blue eyes. I want to eat her up even on a bad day.

Anyway, Gypsy saw me walking through the room and started SCREAMING at me like"Hey! I'm OVER HEEEEEERRRRRREEEEEEE MOM!" and she looked so damn adorable that I couldn't resist and ran over to her making kissy noises and telling her what a pretty girl she is ......(now picture this)

And I end up standing between Z's knees in my nightie, bent over with my tail in the air and rubbing my nose back and forth on her soft fluffy big round white head making kissing noises while Gypsy's meows almost ceased and turned to purring interspersed with little mews (I translated this to mean "good slave".). Z was laughing at me with a smile on his face and then he suddenly got all tense and started pushing me away. This was right about the time I heard rude remarks coming from the hallway from the ever running mouth of my Monster-In-Law. She then slammed her bedroom door still ranting-loudly-under her breath and Z started laughing and said "She's SO pissed. Imagine how it looked and sounded from HER ANGLE? She couldn't see the cat for all that red hair and your butt waving in her face! She thought you were rubbing up on me! Wahahahahaaaaaaa." Me: "Like you let me???? hey, hang on a second......

Nnow that you put it that way.......... Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahhahaha. Here kitty kittyyyyyy!"

Panties, etc....

Well! I bet that got your attention, now didn't it?? I can just imagine what kind of traffic I'm gonig to get from Google on that one! haha.

Actually, it refers not to what you are most likely assuming- yes, this means YOU!- but to the oh-so-appropriate phrase: Don't get your panties in a bunch.

So, like, DON'T, okay? Thanks.

There is a post in the works, a real one, not a bit like this little masterpiece here, no way! A real one. Just hold on a bit, hmmm? and remember one important thing....

Patience is a virtue, and who has many virtues left by now anyway? Do what you can.

Love,

Scarlett Cyn

My Confession

Did you all know what next Thursday the 21st is? It's the first birthday of Scarlett's Haven! Wow! Almost a whole year. I can hardly belive it. You've been with me through my ups and downs. My struggles to become pregnant. My unemployment and job search, trials and tribulations and all the crap in between. Some readers have come and gone, but to those of you who have stuck with me, I give you my thanks and my love.

And to those of you who are fairly new to my Haven, welcome. Thanks for coming by and thinking it was worth another visit. I hope I can improve year by year. Hang around, it just might get interesting!

Now then.

Well everyone, it's that time of the week again. Thanks for visiting and giving me a few questions.

Catrina asked this week a medical question since she's a nurse and all (oh, and loves me):

Have YOU had your blood sugar checked?

To answer Cat and those of you that give a rats’s ass, yup, sure have! Every so often I check it. So far, so good. (now where-oh-where is some wood for me to knock on?) *tap,tap,tap* Yes, thankfully, so far my blood pressure is usually pretty much near if not perfect, good cholesterol levels, and blood sugar within normal range. Actually, I’m more hypoglycemic & anemic than anything.

Got wood? (Careful there wise-ass men readers!)

Now then, on to my next quesiton....

Carrie Jo, I believe, misses Yahoo! IM-ing with me, (I miss you too babycakes! MWAH!!) because she asked me:

Has anyone ever caught you doing something embarrassing? What was it? (heehee I'm evil, I know.)

Yeah Carrie Jo, you're evil, but I love you for it! Well, I have to say my most embarrassing moment(s) had to be when Monster walked in on Z and I making love. MORE THAN ONCE. (And what I still want to know to this day is….. “Why in the HELL did I have to be on TOP SEVERAL OF THE TIMES SHE WALKED IN?”. The ‘me being on top’ part is what stuck in my memory.) Also, she wouldn’t knock, she would just walk in and STARE at us in all our glory for the longest time before she would get the hell out and there we were, HORRIFIED. No knocking, or anything, just walks in and....... S.T.A.R.E.S.- A.T. - USSSSS.

Sicko freak. Traumatizing as hell too.

Before any of you say anything, yes, I’ve heard of locks, but we locked it, (or so we thought) but she kept screwing with the locks. I know for a fact, because we kept replacing them. And yes, all those caps were necessary!!

Cheryl b, my buddy, my pal asked me a sort of typical, yet somehow tame (and you long time readers will know what I mean) question this week:

Who is your favorite super hero and why? Also, are there any that you think are hot?

My favorite SUPERHERO has to be this guy! Heee hee!! But to answer your question properly, My favorite male superhero is Superman and my favorite female is Wonder Woman.

Superman, I think, because he was the underdog orphan, you know? He had to learn to deal with his superpowers but was still just an average Joe, or Clark to be more precise. He always took time to help people in need. Also? I always wished I could fly with him like that witch Lois Lane. Sigh.

Now Wonder Woman. I always wanted her golden lasso (still do), invisible airplane and those bulletproof bracelets. She was kick ass, but still very feminine. Gorgeous too. She always saved the world from bad guys, because she was all those things I listed before, and intelligent.

Superman. answers your second one too. He was damn hot! (oh yeah, double t)

Well, that's all the answers to the questions I had this week. Blogger must have pissed off Ollie and Wenchie this week. Blogger bastards.

A Thought Or Three

It's sometimes a little bit scary, the avenues and paths my mind will wander along. But first. To begin with, a little reminder to get your questions in for this week's Inquisition. You have until 12 Noon, Tuesday, Pacific Time to get your question in for me to answer. All of you continue to amaze me with your questions.

Now then. I'm curious what you all are going to think of this. I found out that Z's specialist for his Diabetes ALSO specializes in treatment of PCOS. Hmmmmmm.Coincidence? I wonder. Turns out that Z spent as much time (giving wrong info about my past treatment history apparently. sigh.) talking about my PCOS as about his diabetes. If only he had given accurate information the doctor would have been informed. Like, for example, he neglected to mention that I had been taking glucophage AND Clomid when I got pregnant a few years ago with the baby I miscarried. He kind of left the bit about the Clomid out. Then, he couldn't remember the name of the meds I was taking for MY IVF trials after that first failed one. Uh huh. Shall I continue?

I will say one thing. I kinda love this doctor of his. Know why? Cause he asked Z last week "So, where's the boss?" (ie: me.) Love. That. Haaaaaaaaaaaahaaahaaahahahhahahahaha. He also complimented me and said that I made his life very easy since I apparently have such excellent medical knowledge and background.

Thanks doc. Right back atcha babe!

How about a casual observation from my desk here at work. It's a hoot, believe me.

Picture this: I'm sitting at my desk in my office talking to my assistant and another secretary when I notice out of the corner of my eye out on the triangular ledge outside my window a couple of pigeons. I casually remark "Oh look, he's showing off. I bet she's in heat". Mere seconds later, they start mating right there in front of us. Once. Twice. Thrice. and four times. I find I have only one thing to say to this really, once I stopped laughing.........

Lucky bitch.

Clap On!

Reason Number 28 not to get dressed in a dark room early in the morning:

You look down at your lap at a red light about 3 blocks from work and realize that you didn't put on the black slacks with with your cream snakesin print blouse and matching open toed heels you thought you did, but Navy instead. Not a big deal you say?

It is when look over at the BLACK-AS-SIN BLAZER you brought with you lying on the passenger seat.

Say it with me now............."DOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Lets blame it on the fact that I left work at 9pm last night, hmmm? Will y'all let me?

Please tell me some of you have had such Homer moments?

*Whimper*

Why is it that after two days of physio (and endless days of painkillers- love. them.)for my left shoulder that I have somehow managed to f*ck up the tendons that attach my arm to my body, do I find that almost EVERYONE that I come into contact with today feels the need to give me a good whack on the arm? (yeah, guess which one!?)

I'm serious. At least 10 people, pretty much ALL coworkers mind you, have smacked me or poked me on my left arm today. Add to that how completely BRAINLESS I apparently am because what did I do while showing my new Assistant things at work today? I reached into my filing cabinet, high (not supposed to do) for a ring binder file that is full to exploding and lifted it down one handed (Doh. guess which one?). Of course, I instanteneously remembered not to do it the millisecond after the pain shot through me. Although in all fairness to myself, I'd already been poked and smacked so much, it was pretty much just the icing on the cake.

OW-eee. (read: much cusssing)

Any suggestions on how to explain the quick 10 leaps backward on the improvement I had made to my physiotherapy doc without sounding like a complete brainless twit?

The Confession

Better late than never, you know.

As promised, the answers to your questions. Man, y'all didn't hold back, now didja? Nuh-uh.

I'll answer in the order that I recieved the questions this week, if you don't mind.

Cheryl b naturally asked:

how often do you and Z have sex, and how often would you like to?

Sex? What’s that? Heh. Well, if I remember correctly, it is –fortunately for me- much like riding a bike, you never forget.

I honestly don’t remember the last time, which means waaaaaaaaaaay too long. Maybe near Valentine’s Day? Perhaps a little before. (Shall I wait for all of you to pick yourselves up off the floor before I continue?) I’ll probably have to check my calendar to give you a precise date. Yes, I’m serious.

He has gone and gotten pissy with me (and moody) regarding this once I started realizing (ok, and after I confronted him about the fact that…) he was initiating (or giving in to my requests/hints/blatant invitations/nagging) lovemaking only around my ‘fertile’ days of the month, where, if, by some MIRACLE OF GOD, I ovulated, I would end up pregnant. Other than that, nada. Nothing. This bullshit continues. Before any of you say anything, I've tried all the suggestions you could come up with and then some, ok? I'm a creative woman you know?

Anyway, for the longest time, I thought it was my imagination, but then? I started quietly marking down on my calendar and sure enough, it was on or around day 13-15 of my cycle and NOT any other time. So, he was in denial when I mentioned it, and I showed him, and he got quiet, and ever since? Hardly ever, even during potential ovulation time. Which brings us to the second part of Cheryl’s question….

How often would I like to do it? At least 3-4 days a week. (Notice I didn’t say times but days? Yeah, a couple of times a day is nice. Ahhhh, the good ole days.) But if it was more often, I wouldn’t complain, ya know? Hell at this point? I'd be happy with some heavy petting.

What? Believe it or not, I have a pretty –ahem!-high sex drive, although perhaps you wouldn’t know it to see how long I go in between. Bottom line is, I DO have some pride, and I’ll be god dammed if I’m going to beg for it. I honestly never, ever thought we would reach this point, not us, we used to have a great physical relationship. But that was then and this is now.

Well shit, now I’m depressed. Sexually frustrated and depressed. Hell, that is one bad combo.

Wenchie nailed me with:

Have you ever been arrested? If not, what's the closest you've ever come?

Wenchie, woman! You have the best blog name! I LOVE IT!!! Now, for the answer to your question.

Well, there was a little misunderstanding when I was 17 and boy did I learn my lesson!

It was all because of my stupidity & forgetfulness more than anything, really. I was working in retail, and mid-morning I tried on a belt (it was really nice), but then it got SUPER busy and I forgot I was wearing the damn thing. An hour or so later, it’s break time and –kapow- the store security pounced on me when I went to get a smoothie. I’m sure you can guess the rest.

Damn, it’s not like I’m Winona Ryder or anything sneaking around with scissors in a dressing room or something!

Now to a considerably more tame question from Catrina……

Now that you have your job, when can you take vacation? Hint Hint?

Well pussycat, funny you should ask me that! I’ve been thinking about when I should take it, when the best time will be lately. Yes, now I’m working, so I’m in the process of strategizing and planning for my trip.

My vacation is back on, exactly when, I can’t say yet, but trust me, you will know, (Since I’m planning on crashing at your place for a couple of days! Hint! Hint! Hee hee (Don’t y’all love the way I invited myself? Shut it. I’ve known Cat for – gulp – AGES.

In fact, Ollie might just get to see me too (you know, if she wants to!) espceically if my mom has relocated back home to S.C. like she is planning by then.

Oh and Rose? If you’re reading this? Don’t feel left out, I’m going to hit you up too, girlfriend!!!! (Yeah, I’m making the rounds of LA, aren’t I?!)

I'm hitting both coasts in the States and a point or two in between as of today. If you're anywhere near where I might be, let me know, I'd love to meet ya!

Thank you all for your questions. Adieu my darlings.

Deepest Apologies

I am not,I repeat NOT a flake. i just didn't post because my inet at home is down. Boy, I could not wait to get in to work to post. I'm really so addicted to blogging, it's kind of like a crack addict needing a fix.

Mind you, I'm not a crack addict or anything, just an analogy, you understand.

Keep your eyes open, post will be up soon.

Love,
Scarlett Cyn

"It's Beyond My Control....."

That is one of my favorite movie lines ..... EVAH. Do you recognise it, I wonder? Yes, I really DO want to know. Do you remember the movie it came from-one of my favorites- and even better, WHO said it? I love this actor. Hint: he's a bit weird, but sexy, in a weird way, and I'll watch just about anything he is in. PS: Duh, the hint was it is a MAN.

At any rate, it is very appropriate for why there hasn't been a blog post from little ole me in the past couple of days.

Blogger sucks ass lately, that's why. Therefore, it's beyond my control.

I've tried to post-count em- 3 posts in the past two days and I get everything all done and purty, ready to post for you and then I hit "publish" and..... Nothin. It -Blogger-crashes. Asswipes.

On another note, Z was diagnosed day before yesterday with Type 2 Diabetes, he was very close to falling into shock when I dragged his ass in to the doctor. (He's worse than a 3 year old going for immunizations) I got a crash course in injection giving (so did he) and how to check his glucose levels, what to eat, what NOT to eat...

Back to the needles. I don't know who was more traumatized, me or him. The jury is still out on that one. I managed to get sneaky when talking to his specailist when I said "Thanks Doc! He's gonna have to be a pussycat to me 24/7 now that I get to stick him with needles!" This was said with a BIG grin on my part. Next thing I know, I hear "GIVE ME THAT SYRINGE!". Heh. I'm a weasel, aren't I? But I'm still doing the glucose checking and preparation of the insulin shots, so, I get my sticking time in too! heee heee. Poor guy. *poke* I told him, one peep out of you and I'll remind you of ALLLLLLL those needles I've taken trying to get pregnant.

But my poor hubby, he is such a cookiemonster and chocoholic specifically, so when the whole "bye bye to real chocolate & sweets (and rice and pasta, and potatoes for the time being)" hit him, I swear he got teary. Funniest thing he said last night, when I pointed out all the stuff they have for diabetics, diabetic chocolate, cookies, etc.. for when his insulin gets under control, I guess he thought about it for a while, cause about 2 hours later, he looked at me and said "You think there is such a thing as diabetic chocolate cake?". I couldn't help but laugh. He looked so damn hopeful.

What sucks? Arianna. When she sees ME get injections, she is morbidly fascinated by the whole process, and laughs her ass off while I'm getting stuck. But last night? The mere thought of her Dad being poked with that gun-needle thingie for the glucose test got her choked up and covering her eyes (wtf??) and the whole injection of the insulin made her run sobbing out of the room. W.T.F.???

Man, that's unfair. And yes, I'm pouting.

Last chance y'all for questions for the Inquisition this week. Questions? Anyone? Anyone? Helloooooooooooo???????

*Crickets chirping*

R.I.P.

A great woman has passed away. Dr. Georgeanna Seegar Jones, who helped develop the program that led to America's first "test-tube baby," has died. She was 92.

When I read of her many accomplishments here,-her work laid the foundations for home pregnancy tests, for example- I was even more amazed. And grateful. Because of her and her husband,(and the pioneer in England too) and work of others after her, many women like me who might never have had children or even the HOPE of having a child of their own now have an option. An expensive one, yes, but an option. Hope. A possibillity. As someone who has gone through four IVF proceedures, (although failed) I salute her.

Rest in peace Dr. Jones. You definetly deserve it. God Bless you.

Happy Easter!

To all my readers and frequent or infrequent lurkers, I'd like to wish you a Happy Easter whether you're Christian or not!

I mean, The Easter Bunny has NOTHING to do with Christianity, now does he? Nope.

I'm accepting Easter gifts in the form of Chocolate covered marshmallow bunnies, cause I love them SO and we don't get them here where I live, which is thoroughly depressing in the extreme, believe me! Alternatively, Easter Egg shaped rescues Peanut Butter Cups will drive you DEEP into the recesses of my heart with the force of TNT.

I would also like to announce that I am formally re-instating The Weekly Inquisition, for those of you who have missed picking at my brains each week, starting this week.

In case you've forgotten, ask me a question , whatever strikes your fancy, by 12 Noon Pacific time on Tuesday and I'll reply by Wednesday morning. That's it.

Go on, I'll be waiting. For both your chocolate donations AND your questions.

The Snooze Button.

You know its going to be a day from HELL when.................

You hit the "Off" button instead of "Snooze" and hell if you can remember doing it because you were sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted and half dead.

You wake up, WIDE AWAKE AND HEART POUNNDING, look at the clock and realize in horror and dismay that you should be pulling out of the driveway..... NOW.

You suddenly remember in absolute terror what your travel agent manager husband said about the hotel you booked for your boss as you were drifting off to sleep last night. (Curious? The tidbit was that the 5* hotel you booked for your boss and the Deputy CE of the major investor of the bank has a truly spectacular view of................. a graveyard. What kind of dumb ass builds a 5-star hotel near a freaking graveyard I ask you?)

Just when you thought it was bad enough working 2 hrs past' going home time', some asshat walks up to you, hands you a proposal that MUST be on the desk of the BOARD OF DIRECTORS TOMORROW MORNING. Hint, only one of them lives in the same country I DO.

Its now after 7pm and you are still at work- tried to calm your frazzled nerves by sharing SOME.OF.IT with the internet on your blog, because you have no idea whatsoever when you are going to go home tonight.

See? I seek my blog readers - yes YOU!- for comfort.

And how was your day?


PS: Just so you don't think I'm ungrateful for the work, because I'm truly grateful for the work, realize this: While each of the people at work are stressed with 20 things to do today, NOTHING happens in this Bank without going through ME and my boss first, because, bless his heart, he is a control freak just like me. each of their 20 things, for 8 departments, I have to deal with, from small to big and it is ALL extremely sensitive, confidential material. Plus he has me Assisting the Head of HR until her assistant can start next month and I'm responsible for the Board of Directors.

Come on April 4! That's when my assistant starts working. Whoot!! I love her already. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell y'all. I hired myself an Assistant! Yaay. Hot Damn!

Why Does She Do That?

I'm sure this is the question that goes through the minds of security staff daily. Particulary at my work.

I'll give you all the number one reason I could never be a bank robber or thief in general:

I have this odd habit of making faces at security cameras.

I really do. And I do it a lot. I mean. A. LOT.

In Banks, at ATM machines (my favorite, actually) at work, in elevators, not in stores so much, but sometimes? The urge hits to do it there too! And when I mean make faces? I mean make faces like a 3 year old. Crossed eyes, or bugged eyes (depending on mood) sticking the tongue out at different angles-type faces. Heh.

Juvenile of me, I know, but it's fun. Its an almost uncontrollable urge I have. Silly me.

Imagine me trying to rob a bank or something,hmm? Pull of the heist without a hitch, then... as I try to leave with the loot I pass a security camera and.......

*makes face, sticks tongue out* sings "nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaah nyaaaaahhhhhhhh!" *shakes butt*

Not that I'd ever want to or anything. Rob a bank. But you know what I mean.

Right? *makes a face*

Welcome To My NIGHTMARE

Otherwise known as "nyah nyah nyah nyah Nyahhhhh NYAAAAAH DAD!".

*cue "Under the Sea" song from Little Mermaid now*

Perhaps some of you long-time Haven readers may recall my little dislike of sharks and deep water swimming? The whole debate with my Daddy at the age of around 7 or so about the dangers?

It was really his damn fault in the first place. He figured making me READ the book Jaws when the movie was out (cause there was no way I would go see it) would make me overcome my fears.

Big Mistake DADDY.

You also might recall that he always told me they would never come near shore. (nice try). And I am quite positive that he was just saying that to make me calm the hell down as I clung to his neck out DEEP in the water, cutting off his air with my deathgrip. Yeah, quite possible, now that I look back on the situation. That realization did nothing to stop me from rubbing it in his face a few years ago (read: 25 years + later) when some poor sucker standing waist deep - if that- off a Florida beach (where I grew up and said choking incident of my father way-the-hell-out-so-far-people-on-the-beach-looked-like-termites occured, mind you!) was killed, or chomped on by a shark. whatever.

Fast forward to today. While I am cruising through CNN (God bless them). I read. THIS.

This is exactly the kind of shit I was worried about. A 20 ft shark? Tore that poor bastard IN HALF while snorkeling.

I can only hope he didn't know what the fuck hit him. Its enough, really, that I do. 20. Foot. Shark. That is one big damn shark, no?

*shudder*

*Dad, I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!! (Let me enjoy it. I mean, I've rarely ever been able to say that to him, and consider living to brag about it!!)

Hello! I'm pissed at BLOGGER.....again.

Hi. It's me. You probably thought I dropped off a cliff, didn't YOU?

Well I didn't. Blogger was being a sh*thead, is what.

I posted a lovely DOUBLE POST MIND YOU DAMMIT yesterday for St. Patrick's Day, me being Irish and all that, and BLOGGER WOULDN'T let me POST, the asswipes. Gee, can you tell I'm a little bit perturbed by that? Yeah, I thought you could.

I have to wish all my friends, and most especially my readers of Irish extraction (or those that are purely) Irish a very happy and belated St. Patrick's Day.

May the luck (not mine tho, cause is sucks) of the Irish be with you. May the wind always be at your back. May you find a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, and if you do so? May you share some of your shiny windfall with your friend and fav-o'rite blogger, Scarlett Cyn!

My Irish eyes are smiling..... at YOU! KISS ME, I'M IRISH!!!!!!!! *puckers*

Anyway, I had also attemped to post about a funny happening at work yesterday, since it was one of those "I'M SO BLOGGING THIS!!!!!" moments.

I'm sit at my desk minding my own business when my office phone rings. Fine. I answer. The male voice on the other end asks for me. "Speaking, how may I help you?" I reply.

The guy begins by telling me that he was in visiting the Corporrate Banking Manager (who's office is about 20 ft from me) the other day and met me and do I remember him? He is a friend of T (the Mgr) Kept mentioning the name of T. Now please remember, I work in a bank, but not the retail part, I work for the CEO of a bank, dammit. Anyway.... I said "How can I help you?" and ... here's your blow-by-blow:

Caller: "Well I was wondering, what I should do this weekend"
Me: ---??----um? this weekend?"
Caller: yes. do you havve any idea?
Me: "Oh, are you here in Bahrain for the weekend then?" (not getting it at this point, obviously and still being all helpful and professional, although still damn confused)
Caller: "No. I live here."
Me: ----??!!-----uh......
Caller: "So what do YOU usually do on the weekend Cynthia?"
Me: (suspicion slowly creeping in to mby brain) Spend. Time. With. My. Family."
Caller: "Oh, so then you don't really go out on the weekend then? You don't have any suggestions for me"
Me: "Other than with my family, um, no"
Caller: "That's a shame. So, you won't go out this weekend then.. not with anyone..."

He went on for a while yet By this time, you probably realize that he was hitting on me. Yeah, A client of the bank was asking me out over the weekend. I went from being dumb to playing dumb. It was all rather.. awkward. And I was in shock. I mean he IS a client. He finally ended by saying "Then, I guess I can't see you until my appointment next week then. Take care Cyn. See you next week". Me: "Uh, huh.....".

I hung up the phone staring at the phone unit with my mouth gaping open and my eyes HUGE in shock... kinda how I would look if JAWS was coming at me.

A bank client was hitting on me.

Funny huh? Perv. That kind of blast's Z's theory out of the water, huh? I told him to see what he would say.... and he said "You're kidding? Huh. Well, it's your fault you didn't tell him you're married." (He doesn't think men are attracted to non-skinny girls. I'm not skinny by a longshot-heh-, but it's more voluptous and balanced quite nicely. Just cause HE doesn't like it, he thinks No one does. UGh!") Funny, I would swear I can hear Carrie Jo's hissyfit all the way over here on the other side of the planet.

My response to the DOH! remark of the week? "If he couldn't see this fat diamond wedding ring on my finger under all those halogen spotlights above my desk that make it blinding, it's not my fault! And what makes you think me being married would change ANYTHING? Some men find that more attractive. No strings. No expectations."

He just doesn't get it. And if he keeps up this line of thinking, he wont be getting anything else either!

PS: Can I throw out a little question? Am I being bitchy to be irritated in the extreme of his intense and obesessive intrest in his Niece's infertilty treatment cycle the past week or two? He knows DAY BY DAY what she's doing, injection amounts, no of follicles and size, and even went all over town with her hunting medicine AND went to the doctor with her.

I honestly would have said when he was remarking today "Do you think it worked? They had to do it like rabbits yesterday and today." I came very close and only just stopped myself from saying "I don't give a flying f*ck, actually." But I controlled myself. It would have started a huge arguement, and while it is probably needed, due to his complete lack of interest and support in our OWN trials last year, I honestly just am too exhausted at the moment.

I Think I Can, I Think I Can! I Think I Can, I Think I Can........

Sometimes I amaze myself.

There have been times in my life when I am completely and totally overwhelmed when I find myself thinking I have perhaps or DEFINTELY YOU SILLY BITCH taken on more than I can chew and find myself drowning in the project that I find myself thinking "I don't know if I can do this!" But I am continually amazed how I somehow manage to finish what I've given myself up for, regardless of how much it takes out of me to do so.

I feel a certain sense of pride to have accomplished something that even I doubted I could manage to come through on and complete, even if only for the barest minute or 5 of a mild panic attack

I had one of those times today.. again. At work. I was honestly All OVER THE PLACE and stretched oh so thin and wondering how in God's name a color printer that cost about US$9,000 can't print any faster than the snails pace it does. And also a pet peeve of mine with network printers?

When you click print, like a normal person, and have to make sure that proper letterhead is in, blah blah blah and you realize that some joker-usually your own boss- has hit print without your knowledge and there, my friend, goes your letterhead you just put in. So you have to reprint again. But AGAIN with the other person hitting the print button after you mentioned very clearly that you were GOING TO PRINT DAMMIT. repeat 4 times.

Last minute I had to send 6 proposals to the Board of Directors. Hmmmm. Nice, excecpt that my boss was travelling this afternoon , the stuff had to go with his signature and that after he signed? He took another look and started WRITING ON IT, which means that you have to REPRINT THE DAMN THING on said snail speed color printer AFTER YOU MAKE CHANGES but then he decides, once it's all reprinted mind you, that he liked the ORIGINAL ONE better that I did in the first place and can you just use that? Well no, sorry, because, well IT"S BEEN SHREDDED NOOOOOOWWWW

To qupte my darling girl Carrie Jo.... "fucknuggets".
*cue dizzying despair*

Well,I managed to complete EVERYTHING and then some until 7pm. Whew, I'm beat.

I'm going to take my dizzy little self off to bed before I flip off the computer chair.

Nightie night loves.

I did what?

Well, here you have it. I'm going to give you proof that I've gone and lost my fucking mind. I hope you're prepared.

As if I don't have enough work on my hands already, I stuck my nose, ass, foot, mouth, whole body into something that I just couldn't leave well enough alone. New premises for the bank I work at.

Being a control freak is a bit of a bitch, actually. Gets me into all sorts of stuff. Like this for instance:

I have slowly been immersing myself into this business of locating a future site for the bank headquarters. What with the projections and all for the next year or so, we are going to outgrow where we currently are sooner than later, and there are two new projects, MAJOR projects going up right now. I noticed that my boss, the CEO, was being courted by THIS PLACE and after I nosily looked at the blueprints of the floor plan and building design (because this is a little hobby of mine that not many people know about. Hmm. Well, until now anyway!) I decided that it really would not do. No matter how pretty and cool they look. Because THIS is really so much better. There are several reasons why this is better, which I , in my devious way, pointed out to my boss by calling a guy I know that is running the development of MY CHOICE to arrange for a presentation.

OUR appointment with him is tomorrow. Did any of you catch that? I thought you might.

Yeah. I basically presented my very experienced opinion, because well, I've done such a project, sort of , in the past. Or been quite involved anyway. With one little exception. This boss? Freely gave me the power to take a big hand in this and he trusts my judgement, I think. Between that, my little blueprint hobby that I confessed to him also today, and me selfishly wanting to have us at the best location, he allowed me to involve my little control freak, OCD self.

Oh boy.

Then I went back to my desk all happy with my accomplishment to see my pile of work, only to mutter to myself…..I said what? I did what? Oh Gawd. I have GOT TO get my assistant SOON.

Then I went to pull my foot out of my mouth. Heh.

Inquisition Confession – Week 17? 18? 19? 30?

Well hell if I remember! What ended up as over 95 hrs of overtime for Feb tends to f*ck with your memory, ya know?

What was I saying? Oh God. Am I getting senile? At 33?

Oh yeah. Now I remember…. I think.

I was actually going to answer the sweetest, most darling blog readers….. MY darling blog readers… who lately have had ZILCH to read. And I mean diddly squat. Well except for the chopsticks post, that is. Well, and the little post about my boobs. And that one report about my mild and definitely unplanned for drunken stupor.
Now I don't remember when or what week these questions were asked, but hey, I just started cruising through my comments and Gmail and I came up with these. If I missed your question…. Well hell. Ask me for THIS WEEK BABY!

But first. Can I just tell y'all something? While I love me some Garfield. (My kitten) I am hopelessly, deeply in love with Bandit. Bandit is the little furry bugger that was trying to swing from my hoop earrings the other week, bless his little purring self. This kitten sits on my boobs and stares at me…. Just stares at me ooooozing love from his big blue eyes. Sometimes, because he IS a boy, he lays in my cleavage, hugging a boob, tries to nurse (to which I say "Honey. That has been empty of milk for YEARS!) but he sorta hugs my boob and….

Stares at me. Deep in my eyes. He is still little soul (except for when he is giving me mad kisses on my cheek, ear or chin), unlike Garfield. Garfee is a cute fat ass cat. He is as big as Bandit, who is 1 week older than him. Garfee is NEEDY. If he isn't getting sufficient attention, he bitches-loudly- until he gets it. Garfield is getting more and more red, bless his fat butt. And Bandit? His blue points are such a deep blue as to be almost Navy. It's like the color of a blueberry. And his fur? If you blow on it and get a "part"? It's like he has blue roots with cream ends more than halfway out. Much like that look Shakira had going on a year or so ago. SO CUTE on the cat. Not so cute on Shakira.

OH? And Isis? Is really ready to pop her kittens any day now. And Garfield's mom? Miss Scarlett? I've been calling her a whore all day now. She's been getting her groove on since night before last. God help me. I SO wanna fix Max. Z won't let me. Something about men and their nutsack and the whole empathy thing. I dunno.

On to the questions.

Catrina gets to be first this week with her question:

What is the primary language spoken in the office where you work?

Well Cat, the primary language is English, surprisingly. Arabic is an official language and the bank I work for IS an Arab bank, but there are also so very many Persian Bahraini's here, that Persian, or the local version of it, is spoken a lot. By myself included. MY boss thinks it's cool I speak it.

Generally, I am constantly amazed by the number of genuinely good people that work where I do.

Carrie Jo nailed my ass but good (Lemmie out of the corner, willya? Jeez) with this one:

Have you ever seriously considered having an affair? ;o) Just thought I'd keep it interesting for you.-Carrie Jo

Well, well, well! Miss Carrie Jo! Let's hope Z doesn't read my blog for a while, hmmmm?

Teasing. Sort of.

Out of curiosity, do all my detailed plans of rocking Simon le Bon or John Taylor's world count? Cause if it does? Then hell yes. Because Simon could have me on my back in 5 seconds flat. (Or me have him on his, either way is ALL GOOD) I think he still looks damn good, and so does John for that matter. ROWRRRRR!

An affair. Well, this IS interesting, now isn't it? And a bit tricky as well.

See, I personally think of an affair as something 'casual'. Casual sex that you have once or twice, or for a while- short period of time- and then walk away from. So, really no. Because it is pretty much impossible for me to be intimate with someone without deep feelings for them. I'm just not that way. It's not me. It's not in me to have a one night stand. Kissing and petting is one thing (Which I also haven't done since before I met Z many moons ago) but intercourse? NO, to share your body with someone is special. At least to me. That's the way I was raised. A perfect example is the deep an abiding love I have had for the two men mentioned above for over 20 years, so that is some pretty deep feelings. A lot of which is lust and appreciation for the men that they are.

Sure, I've been pissed and thought, "That'd show him but good" when Z has put me down in one way or another. But it really isn't me. (Gee, could I say that phrase any more? I doubt it.)

Not that I haven't had the opportunity. I actually had an opportunity that I didn't even know about until it was way too late to do anything if I wanted to right as I was leaving the States to move here. A good male friend of mine and sort of coworker (was a company rep that came to where I worked every week once or twice) basically confessed everything he felt for me in writing right before I left. Some of the most beautiful sweet flattering things ANY man has ever said to me, of his regrets for keeping his feelings from me, etc… When I read that, and got over the whole shock of HIS confession, all I could see in my mind's eye was the look on his face when one of my female coworkers broke the news that I was moving out of the country to him. The look that all of a sudden made sense. The vibes I felt from him at my farewell party. The kiss on the cheek that I thought was accidentally closer to my mouth than my cheek that I blew off as one too many jello shooters. It was all too clear to me suddenly. But I got on that plane a few days later and waved good bye out the window as it took off to everything and everyone I knew, wondering if and when I would see them all again.

Whew. I think I just confessed more than I planned. Did I ramble? Quite possibly. Oh well.

In a nutshell, I think I would have to have really deep feelings for someone in order to do anything, and if I felt that way, I don't really think it would qualify as casual enough to be categorized as an affair (in my book), now would it?

Chery B, my naughty darling friend is back in the saddle, so to speak, with one of her playful questions I love so.

What do you think of strippers? Some friends and I went to see the Ultimate Males show on Friday and had a blast. Have you ever seen strippers? Also, what do you think of men going (to see women)? – Cheryl b

What do I think of strippers? Um, I don't usually think of em, actually. I've never seen strippers, real strippers. Don't think I'd mind doing it for the sake of the experience, either. I think that men go for different reasons than women go for. Ok, for most women. I could totally be talking from my a*s here, but men, I think, get, ahem, erections and all turned on from it. What with all the cootchie being stuffed in their faces, the whole slow bump and grind and whatnot. By the same token, you can't tell me there is a room full of soaking wet turned on women at Chippendales. The dances are totally different, from what I hear tell (and what little footage of it I've seen) for one thing. Do men give lap dances too? Now THAT might be fun! *hee hee* The stuff I've seen – film snippets- of the men's performance (like Chip's) is exactly that. Performance.

But hey, I could be wrong. I guess this just means that you'll have to take me to see some strippers after you kidnap me to live on the commune with you, Carrie Jo, and the other girls, huh Cheryl? Can we stop on the way though? I need to get change for some 50's! (I'm a good tipper!)

On a related note. I think doing a pole dance could be fun. I saw a TV sitcom where a bunch of women went to a pole dancing class, and it looked so damn fun!

I'm weird, I know.

I received another question from Carrie Jo last week, that went a little something like this:

OK, my question: what does your favorite outfit look like and why is it your favorite? (an easy one for this week)

Ah… an easy one darling Carrie Jo.

Well pussycat, my favorite work outfit goes a little something like this: A black lightweight crepe suit. The blazer is quite long, actually. Clean simple and not overly tailored. With my favorite pale turquoise v-neck blouse underneath. Black open toed sling back heels. I like this suit so much; I have it in Navy also with my favorite pale latte/cream colored blouse. It has trousers or a slightly above the knee length skirt.

That was work. Now for my free time? Casual I freaking adore Capris. Blue jean capris, black denim capris. Cotton capris of various colors and materials. Some short to the knee, some mid calf. I've got a couple of the blue denim ones with beautiful embroidery and/or beading at the hem. In this heat? It's a must for survival since it isn't appropriate really to wear shorts in public for ladies here. (Some do, but it is really more hassle than it is worth, believe me) So I would say capris and a pretty, vibrant colored t-shirt. I'm girly that way. I like tee's with a little something special. I am NOT a walking ad board, capiche? (I wear those kind at home loafing around in my SHORTS! HEH!) For shoes? Sometimes I wear flats, or strappy sandals, or something on my feet with a little more oomph! Depends on my mood. Definitely depends on my mood.

For that in-between look, like when I go shopping at the mall or somewhere out not so casual, it's usually slacks (but sometimes a skirt) and a pretty blouse with strappy heeled sandals.

How's that sweet cheeks?

Well, that's it for this week (month's?) Inquisition Confession. I promise to be a better blogger. Smooches all around for hanging in there and checking my blog periodically. I appreciate it more than you know. I just feel like my get up and go got up and went.

If you see my get up and go, will you let me know? Better yet. Hold it hostage and FedEx it back to me.

Thanks. Adieu my darlings, until I post again!

Oh no!

I had a rather frightening revelation of sorts recently that I didn't have time to blog about, although I meant to. I've just been so busy and all... I remembered it, even more frighteningly in the shower a little while ago. I just have to share it, terrifiying as it is.

Yes, I was in the shower, letting my mind wander as I sudsed up my hairas I often do. I get some of the best blog ideas there, where I can't do godddamn thing about it. But I digress.

So there I was...and I thought about my rather sadly comic life, and I thought that just the shit about Monster alone could give me 10 seasons of a sitcom, you know? She's a lot like that horny landlady from 3rd Rock from the Sun. Dresses like her too. Even Z says so. Anyhow, then I remembered that there revelation I had a few weeks ago.

Z and I have become Al & Peg Bundy, kinda. (Ok, I'll wait for Cat to pick herself off the floor and stop laughing) We are an upscale version of the Bundy's.

Now I don't dress like that or have that big of hair OR eat bonbons all day and I love to cook. I'm a GOOD COOK, Y'all! Z dresses better too, because, DUH, I wouldn't let him dress like that and he doesn't sell shoes. Don't I WISH? haha. (And Ari doesn't dress like a slut) Anyhoooo, there are a few similarities though. Like Al's reaction when Peg wants sex. Yeah. Painfully familliar that. And when Peg wants to go somewhere or do something. Uh-huh. Ouchy. Z sits in front of the TV zoned after work just like Al. But for the hand down the pants, it's kinda eerie.

Y'all may be wondering what triggered this relization. I mean, who would want to admit (albeit sadly) that they've become like that? Other than me, that is.

Well, we were flipping through cable tv and, for lack of anything better, came across an episode of Married With Children halfway through the episode. Right when Peg was trying to hint for a little nookie from that Al basssard. Z said to me "Hey Peg!!!" and I said "Yes AL?" which made him stop laughing at calling me Peg cause he got a good look at Al.

heh. I do what I can. It didn't make my realization that he had pretty much hit the nail on the head any easier to stomach,though. It hit me with the force of a sledgehammer and decidely startling. And all that?

Is TERRIFYING.

The Pirate Wench

Yo ho ho and a bottle (or two) of rum!

Aye aye me hearties! ScarlettCyn the Pirate Wench at your service.

Well, I'm a pirate wench as a result of the quanity and quality of rum I consumed last night. At least I think I qualify as one. Sure feels like it, that's for sure!

I love rum. Almost as much as I love Amaretto di Sarenno. So imagine how happy I was to go to my friend Katie's BBQ last night and see the hard liquor on the table with not just Bacardi BUT Malibu... and a bartender of sorts behind it all! (What? It had been a very rough week, and I was feelin a little sinus-ey)

Yes, I was officially, completely and totally SHITFACED DRUNK OFF MY ASS for the first time in my life.. And I didn't even intend it to happen that way (or so fast). Allow me to explain.

I woke up yesterday with a mild fever and some aches and pains and a runny& congested nose. I felt like utter hell. My boss wanted to send me home, but I refused. SO he compromised by letting me leave somewhat on time.(4:45) By then I was slightly better, went home, changed, got Z and Ari and drove back into town to Katie's place. Up onto the roof we went to the pool area. (she lives in a fancy schmancy apt bldg). What was the nicest part of the evening is that when Katie saw me coming up the steps, she hopped up from where she was sitting, SQUEALED and literally RAN AT TOP SPEED to me and gave me the biggest hug I've had in AGES. About 25 people stared at our little spectacle. But Lord above, did I feel so loved by that greeting. I don't know that I've ever had such a greeting excecpt by Arianna when she was younger (or now when it's time to pay allowance).

She had caterers there and there was a BARTENDER making really simple drinks. (Screwdriver, champagne, wine, hard liquor on ice, etc..). I got happy seeing the Bacardi and also a bottle of Malibu. (because Im really fond of Rum) So, since everywhere else I've gone no one bothered to have rum, I. got. happy. I figured I would start easy and get a wussy drink like Rum and Coke.

BIIIG mistake.

See, it was pretty dark, and I couldn't see very well. So I had no idea how strong it was. But it was tasty, and I polished it off after a time. I couldn't see that said rum and coke was about the color of weak iced tea. Uh-huh. By halfway through the second one, I figured I was pretty spacy, then I rememberd I hadn't eaten ANYTHING since the night before and it was now around 7:30pm. Katie kept it coming and by the end of the 3rd one, I was honest enough to admit I was well and truly wasted. She asked me in front of the smiling bartender "another one? Let me get you another one! To which I said "I think I'd better wait for the food, then maybe later" to which the GRINNING bartender looked at me coquettishly and said "But I have another TRIPLE right here waiting for you!".

Shit. He's been feeding me TRIPLES in HIGHBALL GLASSES on an empty stomach? OH MY GOD. Lets put it this way. I had to go to the ladies room and Ari helped me navigate down two sets of stairs during which time I kept thinking "Maaan am I wasted! Wheeee!" and frankly, I have no recollection how much time I sat there with what I am quite sure was a lame expression on my face but she was hovering outside the door saying "mom?????" a few times. I finally went back. by the time I got back, it was just about time for food. I ate and began to feel a bit better... right about the time Katie, my darling Katie whipped out the bottle she had hidden for me of Amaretto.

Katie fixed me 4-5 fingers or so worth on-erm-with some ice, personally. And like I can turn down amaretto? Um, no.I didn't turn down the other 3 she gave me either come to think of it.

I discovered that I am well and truly entertaining when I am drunk and immensly funny too. I think I was doing impromtu stand up in the middle of everyone.

Halfway through the rum and coke's earlier, I found a lovely older scottish gentleman and we were chatting. Actually, I would have talked about just about anything just to keep hearing that accent. Later, his 20 something son and I were chit chatting. (when I was drunk off my ass).

I was beyond tipsy.

I vaguely can recall buts and pieces of the drive home. I do remember stripping and diving under the covers, but not much after that.

I woke up pretty clear headded today, surprisingly.

Who was the sucker that asked me a few Inquisitions ago if I'd ever been drunk? Well, now you know. I turn into a comedian and performer.

Aren't you devestated you missed seeing it?

Wish You Were Here!

I've got some really fun and cool co-workers, y'all.

There is this really pretty and very serious and straight (or so I thought) girl I work with. She is always so very reserved and professional almost to the point of being a wee bit snooty.

Well, let me tell you I soon took care of that!

Yesterday she was standing in front of my desk and I don't remember exactly what it was we were talking about, but I said something a wee bit outrageous as usual and her eyes got the size of saucers and she cracked up and ended up laughing long, loud, and hard (2 of my favorite things!*wink*) hanging over the counter in front of me eventually wiping a bit of moisture from her eyes. I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction to have made her laugh like that.

Apparently it was just the icebreaker she needed.

Case in point today. She called me about something or other and I answered her question. Then I asked if her supervisor was there with her, because I had been looking for him to give him a message. She said yes and so I asked to talk to him. This was my reply:

"Yes, he's here, but he's in the middle of showing his thing......erm..... GASP!!!!!!!!" followed by a big ole GUFFAW from her which made me completely lose the composure I was barely hanging onto by a thread from the minute she said "he's in the middle of showing his thing....". At least I was not alone doing laps in the gutter, mind to mind.

La la la la la. See? Don't y'all wish you were working with me? One schmuck heard me talking to my boss, the CEO of the bank on the phone, and, well, I talk to him the same way I would talk to you, basically because he likes me just the way I am, which is professional and blah blah in front of guests, etc.. but, well, Real with a capital R with him. So, this fella was watching me all goggle eyed talking on the phone to him and when I hung up he said " Aren't you afraid of him?" and I was immediately completely confused as to just what the fuck he was talking about, so I replied with what I am sure was one of the most truly befuddled looks you've ever seen on my face "Scared of who?" and he said "Your boss. How straighforward you speak with him" I said "Why on Earth would I be scared of him?"

My poor boss. He is SO not the kind of boss to be terrified of the whole day long. True, I wouldn't want him pissed or anything, but still!

So, every now and then I have a real good chuckle, even if it is ME cracking myself up.

Wish you were here! Truly.

Off My Chest- Finally.

It really is an apt title for this post, I promise. Because I really must get this off my chest once and for all. 'Cross Your Heart' my sweet ass.

I. Hate. Bras.

They are a necessary evil. If I could? I would go without one more often than not. But unfortunately? That is just a long denied fantasy. That and my other fantasy of wearing strapless, or spaghetti strap, or a one-shoulder top. Or even a halter top for that matter.

I think the last time I wore a halter top was in 3rd grade. Right about the time these suckers came in.

Mind you, they didn't come in THIS big right away, but big enough, dammit. (Thanks for that little bit of DNA, Nana. I look just like you did, which is fine by me, but did I HAVE to get the bosom too? *wail*)

Some of you may be wondering what brought on my rant at bras all of a sudden. Well, it isn't so all of a sudden so much as it is my voicing of my irritation.

What brought all this on is the pain. Today I'm having a bit of a hard time moving my left arm even the slightest little bit and it's grating on my last nerve. Well, that and while talking with one of my best friends about ripping around in the morning in your under things trying to get ready for work, I realize that I realize I neglected to mention that I usually wait till the last minute to put it on and really can't wait to get my gorgeous bras off.

Because they really are special, my bras. I make sure that I wear the prettiest bras I can find in a G cup, believe me! But even so, the pleasure I get from feeling the pretty things and seeing them against my skin does nothing whatsoever against the pain I incur that is really beginning to get to me. Ok. It has gotten to me. Period. For example, ever since last summer, I have been having the most mind numbing (but not numb enough, unfortunately) blinding pain that shoots from my left shoulder, up my neck and into my head with just about any movement at all and makes even ME gasp out loud with it. Me. The woman with the high pain threshold. The pain is so bad it feels like it is deep in my bone radiating through the muscle. I think I've got a pinched nerve or something.

If anyone touches my left shoulder (Which for some reason? EVERYONE seems to want to greet me with a smack to my left shoulder. WHY IN THE HELL IS THAT?) This presents another small problem. I like to sleep on my side, when I'm not sleeping semi-face down. My LEFT side in particular. That is pretty much impossible now. I just know my left boob is the cause of all the pain. Pain that feels like some damn Viking Berserker has just swung a sword into you and left the *$#^&&*% thing there. Pain killers and/or muscle relaxers don't work. I know what would help me.

A slight breast reduction and a lift.

Now before the men that read my blog start sobbing uncontrollably (and you know who you are. Don't make me name names, hmmm?) I'm not talking about drastic loss of mass here. But I would like to have something semi normal. Of course, to me, normal is a D cup. Hahaha.

I'm serious. Don't believe me?

Once upon a time when I was stuck in the exam room with a sleeping baby Arianna, I became bored out of my mind… which is when my curiosity got the better of me…. So I plopped first one, then the other on the baby weighing scale. Imagine my surprise (and the expletive muttered quietly under my breath) to discover that each one weighed around 12.5lbs. You do the math, because it frankly makes me look down at myself in wonder.

Anyway, that was then, and the suckers were slightly smaller-slightly- and that was 24lbs I was supporting on MY SHOULDERS. It's kind of like having a fat toddler sitting on your chest and hanging on by the shoulders all the time. I figure it's probably closer to 26 or so now.

So. My Good Samaritan deed for the month is this: if you have smaller breasts. If you have average sized breasts and have always wanted to have implants. I BEG you… don't do it sistah. Just say no, like the Nike commercial. I also have one itsy comment.

Are you out of your damn mind? They're more hassle than they are worth.

Cheryl b. Stop sobbing now. They aren't going anywhere for the time being.

I think I'll sign out now and go scrounge up a nice strong pain pill, pray for a little relief and go pass out in my bed.

Good night. *whimper*

PS: Get a question in y'all. I have a Inquisition/Confession post almost ready for posting. You've got 24 hours…… GO!

Chopsticks

I'm baaaaack and going to talk about.....

My lunch.

Doesn't that sound exciting?

Actually, it was the first meal we had together as a family in WEEKS. Me, Z and Arianna and we went to my favorite Chinese restaurant. Well, mine and Ari's favorite. Z was a grumpybutt and I don't know why, and I don't like grumpybutts when I'm trying to enjoy my food, ok? And I love this place. It's family owned and you know its good because real CHINESE people come here to eat. And I love the pan fried dumplings. They. Are. To. Die. For. They are so good, in fact, that... well.... just talking about them? Makes me want more. Now.

So, there I sit, happily eating my happy food with chopsticks after the millionth lesson for Ari on the proper use of chopsticks. My poor baby is all thumbs.

See, as I was putting away my food, watching my daughter mutilating hers with her chopsticks and inadvertantly seeing my spouse's shit mood, I found myself fascinated with her repeated tries. In the end, when she started harpooning them I told her to just use the fork.

Her repeated tries at using them amused and impressed me. Which got me to wondering....

Does anyone out there in Blogland have any bright ideas on a way for me to teach her to use them? She is really lacking the coordination to do it, but not the determination.

So, while I concoct a real proper blog post, and answer some questions and whatnot, I was wondering if you could all put your collective imaginations together and come up with something?

Or should I just let her stick to the fork?

Loser Blogger of the Week

Hi. That would be me. I'm bad I know.

I thought I would get my you-know-what together this week, but so far, it's a no go.

I'll try and get a proper post, ie: answers to my Inquisition questions in later tonight. I promise I'll try.

Meanwhile, a PSA: IF you have a 1 month old kitten? It's a really Good IDEA NOT to wear medium size shiny gold hoop earrings while he lays on your chest and is in a playful mood.

TRUST ME ON THIS, HMmmmmmm????

Until later my loves, Au revoir!

Loser Blogger of the Week

Hi. That would be me. I'm bad I know.

I thought I would get my you-know-what together this week, but so far, it's a no go.

I'll try and get a proper post, ie: answers to my Inquisition questions in later tonight. I promise I'll try.

Meanwhile, a PSA: IF you have a 1 month old kitten? It's a really Good IDEA NOT to wear medium size shiny gold hoop earrings while he lays on your chest and is in a playful mood.

TRUST ME ON THIS, HMmmmmmm????

Until later my loves, Au revoir!