A Bee In My Bonnet

I want to start by throwing out a note stating that I started writing this on Friday. It is now Monday and I'm just picking up again, so when I say "today" I'm referring to Friday unless otherwise noted, and it will be noted. Also, this will probably post with Friday's date, the 13th. That's a future reference note to myself.

And it is now Tuesday and I'm finishing this blog. Ya! Finally! I suck. I know I won't actually get this posted until Wednesday.

Wow, do I have some super awesome and fun stories to tell, most of which happened on this crazy day. Right now my stomach is killing me due to medication I was given through an IV earlier, but I'll get to that later. I may have to abandon post and finish this tomorrow depending on how I feel throughout writing this. On a better note, I logged everything in my Twitter, so fortunately, I won't forget one crazy random thing. I'm excited because this is going to be a long and fun post.

While I type this I'm going to triple task, okay quadruple task, by watching CSI, playing with Greta Hayley, as her cute face is asking for it, and making trips to the bathroom. That part you didn't need to know, I realize, but it might come in handy later when I explain about my morning at the hospital. I'm not complaining, trust me, I'm just a little surprised about the whole thing myself.

Either way, let's start with yesterday. I know that seems like a random place to start, but really, if I don't document yesterday, then what kind of fun is that? None, that's what kind of fun it is.

You know what, in all fairness, let me just back up two days. I guess there's no need to, so I'll make Wednesday short. I did go back over my blogs, knowing that I posted my last long blog about my day on Tuesday, however, for some really odd reason, it claims it posted Monday. It did not. Monday I had my doctors appointment, so I started the blog then, and then I finished it on Tuesday, so I KNOW I posted it on Tuesday. It took me awhile to realize that, when I first started writing that blog, it was Monday, and it took me two days to write, so in the blogs eyes, I wrote that blog on Monday since that's the day I started it. I'm still just getting the hang of this whole blogger thing, as that makes no sense to me whatsoever, but anyway, yes, I left off at Wednesday. Thank God I have ADHD, or else we'd never be able to explain why I'm so freaking off the wall nuts when I try to write.

I realize that I did post on Wednesday, but it had nothing to do with my day. (Note: It was after midnight when I posted, so it came up as being posted on Thursday, but technically for me, I posted it Wednesday.) It was a very random, heartfelt post. When I think back on it, this is because there wasn't really anything to report on Wednesday.

I've felt really shitty this week for whatever reason, sleeping a lot, only able to function for a few hours before I either get disgustingly sick, or just shut down. I did have some plans for Wednesday, but being that I didn't feel well and the mirror totally broke off of my car, so until I can pull the money out of my ass to fix it, I can't drive it, I decided to give up on the day and sleep. I hate days like this, because there's so much I WANT to do.

I did borrow my mom's SUV to go and get ginger ale for my stomach, and donuts from Sheetz. Yes, I know how much sense that does NOT make. Ginger Ale and donuts, but in my defense, Sheetz donuts are nom nom nom. I swore I'd never drive that damn death trap of an SUV again, however I was only going a mile and a half away, and I definitely had to have the ginger ale, so I sucked it up and dealt with it. Honestly, that was my excitement for the day. Pathetic, kind of.

Wednesday night / Thursday morning I had the bright idea to stay up and watch this movie that came on at 4am. By now, we all know about my never ending love for George Eads, and he was in it, so I thought meh, what the heck. This was stupid, especially knowing that I had plans for Thursday and the movie wouldn't be over until 5:30 am. For future reference, the movie was called The Spring, it aired on Lifetime Movie Network, and I still have no clue if it was one of the most creative movies I've ever seen, or one of the most horribly trouble ridden ideas that anyone's ever produced. Thoughts?

Why do I do these things, you ask? Two reasons, I am stupid, and the time change is killing me. I'm the kind of girl that can not sleep at night and feels worse at night, so I'm usually up until four am anyway, that's on a good night. On a super awesomely amazing night, I might make it to bed as early as 2am, which is the most glorious thing ever. Beyond the point. Since springing ahead, I've been getting to bed, as you can imagine, later, so 5:30 am really didn't feel late to me, and when the time rolled around, I was still very awake. It wasn't right, but I attempted to sleep anyway, and that's where it all went horribly wrong.

I felt pretty gross on and off all night, but considering I was having "lady problems" as well, I really sucked it up and dealt with it. I figured that was a good part of my feeling icky, and I moved on. It came back to haunt me not that long after I fell asleep. I woke up fairly promptly to find that I was really sick in the "I feel like I'm going to throw up" kind of way. My stomach hurt, but mostly I just had so much acid in my throat that I couldn't even swallow. I was not happy. I just wanted to sleep, get at least four hours so that I could go about my day that I already had planned. This did not work out.

I ended up staying up until it was pushing eight am, feeling like I was going to puke my guts out. Luckily, I've learned how to curb this feeling and normally can get through it, fingers crossed. I drank down some Aleo Vera juice mixed with some ginger ale, ate some cheerios, and took an anti stomach convulsing pill that I have. Things subsided, thank God, literally, but by the time I finally got some rest, I was just not up to getting up a couple of hours later to face the plans I had that day. No way, no how, not possible.

This worked out in my favor sadly, even though the day was pretty much lost to my sleeping abilities. I was to go gambling at a local casino about an hour away with my mom and her super awesome friend, Charleen. It turns out that Charleen didn't feel so well, and never heard her phone go off to wake her up. Charleen is only thirty nine, but she has a medical condition that prohibits him from living life like she should be able to, much like me, only hers can't be fixed and we're keeping faith that whatever is going on with me, can. Charleen is up late at nights like me, unable to sleep and often not feeling well, so she needed her sleep too, and so did I.

After Charleen did get up and she and my mom talked, my mom ended up going to her house to help her organize it. My mom was helping her prior to now, as Charleen has a four corners American home, one in which she wants to do extensive restoration on, but has too much stuff for the house and it's everywhere. She needs help finding out what to keep, ditch, and how to redo everything to make her home perfect, so she enlisted mine and my mom's help. My mom helps with the organization and physical stuff, and I throw my two cents in on design and color swatches and call it day .

I woke up well after my mom left to a very disturbing and frustrating phone call. I know I've mentioned Munchie the awesome dog before. It started out that we were watching her for a client of my mom's until she got back out of the hospital. After said client was moved to a nursing home, it was unlikely she would be coming back out of the nursing home. I wasn't so sure what I thought about keeping the dog. We already have more than enough animals and the last thing my stress level needed was another dog. Regardless, said client and her one sister who is local and has been involved in the entire situation asked us if we would keep the dog. Figuring that the dog had already been here for a month and a half at the time, my mom agreed, as she was settled in and it was unfair to uproot the dog. Needless to say, I fell in love with the little dog in the past couple of weeks now that I knew that I could get attached, that she wouldn't be going anywhere.

Thursday the phone woke me up, as I sleep on the couch because I can't lay down to sleep. I was still trying to come into a fully awake state, so I didn't get up to grab the phone before the machine came on. The message that was left made me glad that I didn't pick up the phone. The message basically stated that the woman calling was said clients sister, the sister who has been in California for almost two months while all of this has been going on and has not been involved in one part of said client's care. When everyone tried to get her involved, she really couldn't have cared less. She said that she was in town for a few days and wanted to know when we could meet her with Munchie. I had not a freaking clue what she was talking about. Turns out, neither did my mom.

The last we had heard, obviously, was that we were to keep Munchie. This came from said client's mouth and sister who is actually involved's mouth. Suddenly, the other sister just shows up and calls us and leaves a message like that. After my mom came home, I was distraught as I told her what happened and she made some phone calls and found out that, as far as we all know, we are to keep the dog and said client wants us to have her. Lazy sister came in for a few days and figured she was just going to take the dog since it was full bred and she's one of those super rich people who is as cheap as they come. My mom refused to call her back and I have a feeling this is going to turn into a big thing, because the rightful owner does still want us to have a dog, whereas the sister decided to fight her on it. I don't know what's going to end up happening, but there's just a lot of issues here.

First, and I just mentioned this, the client wants us to have the dog, but with the client being so sick, who knows if the sister will wear her down until she'll just give in. My mom is refusing to give up the dog unless she gets the go ahead from the client, which I think is the right thing to do considering the client told us she wanted us to have the dog. Beyond that, sister is only here basically for the weekend, so even if she decides to take Munchie and fly her back to California, she's not going to be able to.

Munchie is due for her shots, so we are in the process of making her a vet appointment to get said shots. She needs her distemper and rabies shots before she can fly on a plane. They must be up to date and she must have vet records for her. On top of that, she must also have a bordetella shot as well as a clean bill of health given by the vet within fourteen days of the flying date, or else the airline will not let her on the plane for obvious reasons. They don't want to be responsible if something happens to the dog because it was unhealthy or didn't have the proper shots. Understandable.

If wondering how in the heck said sister expected to get this done over the weekend wasn't enough, I also have a sneaking suspicion from my previous career as a vet tech that Munchie has an upper respiratory infection. Even if she doesn't, she definitely has some health issue as she's hacking and choking up mucus. As soon as we noticed this we contacted the helpful sister to retrieve Munchie's vet records for us so we were able to make her a vet appointment. There's no way this dog is going to get a clean bill of health, so even if she does take her to the vet, we're going to just end up with her again, and who knows if lazy sister will want us to send the dog out there after we pay the vet bill and take care of the dog, or not.

It's just messed up, but I'll keep everyone updated as more info comes in. We're hoping that lazy sister will just forget about her and go home. We don't have time to meet lazy sister this weekend anyway, and she doesn't know where we live to just show up. Hopefully she'll just go back home and forget about all of this, because if not, I have a feeling this is going to turn into some ugly sisterly fight that we're going to inadvertently be involved in. Well, crap.

This is how I woke up, and then I didn't feel well on top of it, so I didn't hold much hope for the day and I was not a happy camper, but trying to have faith, ignore how I felt, and try to make the best of things. I'm not the best person, I'm tired, I get cranky, I'm moody, messy, and I know I complain when I don't mean to, but I do try in life. No one will ever know how bad I feel, but that's how I want to keep it.

Once my mom was home, I decided to take her SUV and go to Wallies to pick up some food, since we basically had none. I also wanted to see if I could return these flash drives that were dead in the water. We live directly in between two Wal-Marts. One refused to take the flash drives back. PNY, the company who made them, refused to honor their warranty, so I had one more chance and a hope that this Wal-Mart might be slightly more understanding considering the first Wal-Mart told me I could exchange them and then changed their mind. I didn't know what else to do, but it wasn't fair for me to lose twenty six bucks on a product that just simply did not work.

My mom decided to go to Wal-Mart with me and I made it very clear to her that I still wasn't feeling well so I really only wanted to pick up a few things at Wallies and get the hell out of Dodge. I hate grocery shopping. I can do a full grocery run in a half an hour, depending on the lines at the check out. A normal grocery run for my mom takes over two hours, and she insists on coming with me, so I'm never really too thrilled when this happens.

I got very lucky at this Wal-Mart. I took the flash drives to the customer service counter directly upon getting there, explained the situation, and they exchanged them out for two flash drives of a totally different brand with no hassle at all. Why was that so difficult for everyone else to do? Thank you nice Wal-Mart, and as for PNY, I have several words to say to them, all four letters and inappropriate, so I won't voice those words, but I'm extremely upset that the company will not stand behind their warranty. When they have no reason not to stand behind it, they just ignore you. They are a HORRIBLE company, and their products obviously have issues and they know this and won't stand behind their non trustworthy product. This is why I chose to switch flash drive brands to SanDisk, and guess what, they work fine, thank you very much.

My mom used to work at the particular Wal-Mart that we were in, which reminded me of earlier times. When she worked there she bragged to me about this one guy she worked with and how awesome he was, and how she would like for us to meet and see if we hit it off because he was just this great guy. I came into the store one day on a totally unrelated matter just as she was getting off work, only to find out that he was there. I talked to him for about two seconds and immediately knew he was gay. She had no idea. She also asked co-workers, and they actually got a kick out of the fact that she missed he was gay. Now, I have nothing against gay guys, in fact, they are the most awesome people ever and make amazing friends, but I don't want to date one and they don't want to date me.

While we were in the store Thursday, she ran into two other guys she worked with. For extra emphasis, after they walked away, I decided to point out that those two were straight. She then pointed out that she didn't think they would make good dates for me. So basically what we're saying here is that my mom thinks I'd be better suited for a gay guy. Great. In her defense, she has a horrible gaydar. Must be the generation.

Thursday night held pretty much zero interest except that I realized I have too much crap on my computer to get onto one flash drive and I've only had the thing since September. To say I use my computer a lot is really an insult to both me and the amazing computer. I now have a total of six flash drives, some from my PC and some from my Mac, and then the two empties. I have doubles of stuff on several of the flash drives, so I need to go through and re-arrange everything. It's going to take hours upon hours, I know it is, for me to just figure out what I have. My fault, I let things get this bad when I switched from a PC to a Mac due to not feeling well. Oh well, I'm super good at organizing and I like it, so I'll work on it when I'm feeling spiffy again, or at least half spiffy, making me feel spi....

Also on Thursday night, indicative to how I am, I went to bed at two and didn't fall asleep until after four. I had to be up at 6am. Good thing, I woke up feeling pretty awake, oddly enough, and really good. I didn't feel sick, nauseated, didn't feel too weird at all, for me. I considered it a good day. I was looking forward to going in and having both tests done today, and really looking forward to the fact that they thought they knew what was wrong with me and today would be the tell-tale sign. They were going to give me a hydrocortisone shot, and take blood twice, once in a half an hour, and once in an hour, just to see if it made me feel better as my cortisol levels are at half. I was excited, even scheduling another test after that, as everyone anticipated that this would make me feel a lot better. Unfortunately, we were all wrong again.

The hyrdrocortisone had to be put into my IV little by little via shot. I didn't realize the effect it was going to have on my body, as no one mentioned any. Once the shot was halfway in I suddenly felt a horrible burning in my stomach, followed by severe nausea, heartburn, dizziness, and sweating. It came on instantaneously. I asked the girl who injected the medication if this was normal. She said yes and that it would wear off in five to ten minutes, but she still had to get me water anyway because I felt as I was going to be sick.

Once I had the water, she inserted the other half of the hydrocortisone into my body and I did everything I could to keep from getting sick on her. I succeeded, but barely, and went back out into the waiting room to wait for the half an hour until they would pull blood. The five to ten minutes came and went and instead of feeling better, I felt worse, so much so that my mom and Aunt Bev were arguing over who was going to pick me up off of the floor if I happened to pass out, as my face was turning white and I was sweating ridiculously. Neither wanted to do it so I think they called it a wash, and then commented that it was a good thing I was in the hospital.

Consequently, I never did end up feeling any better whatsoever, and because of that and the fact that I was supposed to fast for my second test, but had to drink so much water to keep from getting sick, I had to cancel my second test. I am not the kind of person who cancels anything with my health unless I'm really, incredibly sick. I just could not do it, and when I went down to cancel the appointment, I must have looked bad, because they actually looked relieved that I was canceling it. At that point I just needed food and to lay down. I had seven tubes of blood taken and four syringes of saline put through the IV, which wasn't helping my stomach either. If I got the second test done, I wasn't going to be able to get any kind of real food for at least three and a half more hours. I couldn't wait.

Even though I didn't feel well while awaiting the blood pull, we did have some good moments. My mom was complaining that she was hungry, so Aunt Bev got in her purse, pulled out a bag, and goes "want some candy?" Now granted, this is not funny, but it was because of the way she said it. After she said it, even she bust out laughing. She sounded like a lady who was trying to give a strange little kid candy. She was entering serious creeper territory.

Also, the lady sitting across from us in the waiting room was having the opposite sort of test done. Her cortisol was too high. She was from Italy initially, spoke broken English, and was the cutest little thing ever. If I could have put her in my pocket and carried her around with me, I would have.

After leaving the hospital disappointed and in need of re-scheduling my one test, we headed for TGIFridays. This is where I realized that food is way better than sex, but not so much so that I want to eat my way into a different dress size. I was happy to get food, it felt good to eat, and it settled my stomach for about ten minutes after I ate, then things got worse.

Much like while in the waiting room, we also had our fun moments while in the restaurant. We were sitting there eating when Aunt Bev busts out with how good her salad dressing was. She then went on to say that she ordered thousand island dressing, but when the salad came out it was obvious that the dressing was not as such. She then said, "I looked at it and thought, this looks interesting, I think I'll keep it." Oh, Aunt Bev, if only everyone took that stance the world would be a much more interesting place. That line wins.

Okay, I have disappeared for three days due to still being ridiculously sick. I feel even worse in some ways than I did Friday, and it is now Monday. Excuse my absence, but now I have even more to catch you up on. I will continue my story from Friday and then move on. Maybe I'll get this done tonight. Haha...LIES!

Aunt Bev also took to telling us a story about her parents from when they were still alive. One thing you need to know first is that Aunt Bev's mom and dad didn't totally get along. Her mom drove her dad crazy. One time Aunt Bev was at her parent's house and her mom kept insisting that her dad tell her about "that thing" he did that day. Her dad kept saying "what thing?" ... "I don't know what you're talking about." Finally, her mom got up and went "I hate when you do this," and left the room. Aunt Bev's dad looked at her and went "it works every time." Classic. He never did tell her what he did that day.

After we happily left TGIFridays, I really thought I felt better for about ten minutes, and then I started to get sick all over again. We were about halfway home and I just had to pee. TMI? I think so, but do not care. My grandma lives around the halfway point from the hospital, and Aunt Bev hadn't seen my grandma in awhile and asked if we could stop. It was a two for one, so we did. I also wanted to see my grandma, because I miss her, but in hindsight, I just was not feeling well enough to really do it on Friday.

As always, anything involving my super awesome eighty one year old grandma turns to debauchery in one sense or another. It didn't help that Aunt Bev was also along for the ride, so I knew crazy was bound to ensue. It took it awhile, but when it ensued, it ensued full force.

My mom made the conscious decision to clean my grandma's house. My mom used to have a cleaning service and is just starting up again. She's obsessed with clean in a neurotic, OCD kind of way, but that's okay. Grandma lives in a place that is part nursing home, part apartment complex. She lives in the apartment complex, but they still have people who clean for them and maintenance that take care of everything. The problem is, the cleaning people just sort of "clean." They sweep quickly, don't use attachments, and don't dust anything, including the back of doors, etc. This doesn't leave for too clean of a house, so my mom decided to take it upon herself. While my mom was in the bedroom scrubbing the cat hair from around the baseboards, Aunt Bev opened a whole can of worms without even knowing it.

She began to talk about reality shows and how she hates watching television because of that, and that her DVD player is broke, so she hasn't been a happy television watcher lately. From there, we got into talking about the show The Millionaire Matchmaker. For those of you who haven't seen it, Patty Stanger runs a service for millionaires, mostly men, where they pay a fee and she finds them the love of their life. The thing is, she always has to pick ten pin woman and is often rude to some of the girls. She wants perfection, young beautiful girls who can cook, clean, and are smart, and all this for mostly middle aged men. There are exceptions to this, and occasionally you will see a woman or two in their thirties, but it's very rare and they must look like they're in their twenties.

I'm one of those girls who personally would have no issues dating someone older, even if they were in their early to mid forties. This might be weird to some people, but after the experiences I've had with guys around my age, or even six years older, have been pretty horrible. I don't necessarily want a fuddy duddy, but there are some men in their forties that could keep up with a twenty three year old, or could date one and it wouldn't really be all that weird. These guys on The Millionaire Matchmaker are not those kinds of guys, often making the show uncomfortable to watch at times.

I do like the show, but from a standpoint of a woman who is the age of most of the girls she sets up on dates on the show, it's a little weird. The guys are fuddy duddy, typical forty something men who want the ten pin girl but take no heed in taking care of themselves. In a way, yes, I am saying these guys are dumpy guys and the girls are so far out of their league that it's a little odd. If you want the ten pin girl I think it's fair that you give them something other than money to make them want you. Have a personality, have a great body, something, but often these guys fall flat. Maybe that's mean, but as many times as I've seen the show, the younger girls tend to date the guys for awhile, and then it tends to not work out. I think there's just too much of a difference, and I know people who agree with me on this, and some that do not. This is not always the case on the show, but a lot of times, it is.

This got us started on older guys that are hot, and could get away with dating twenty somethings and it wouldn't be all that weird. My grandma sat there as Aunt Bev and I tossed around over forty guys that had it going on. Eventually we started pulling up pictures on my Sidekick and making my eighty one year old grandma rate them. It was awesome and went a lot like this.

For some reason, the first person Aunt Bev threw out there was Flavor Flav. Luckily, it was as a joke and we laughed hysterically, because no offense, but he's a little frightening. We showed a picture of him to my grandma and she didn't know how to react. She was between thinking it hilarious and being really frightened. My grandma tries not to say too much, but sometimes things just slip out. The best she had for him was that he was "interesting." For my grandma, that's like saying he's special in the paste eating kind of way.

From there I pointed out Jensen Ackles from the show Supernatural. He's only thirty one, so he wasn't really in our "hot older guys" age range, but after Flavor Flav, we just needed some kind of hotness. I showed my grandma the same picture of him attached to the link at his name, and she sat there and stared at it for awhile, and then said "this is much better." To her, that's like saying he's a fucking hottie.

We moved on to my beloved George Eads. Okay, beloved is a strong word, but you get the picture. I think he's really one of those guys who could get away with dating a twenty something and it would all be okay and no one would think it to be that odd. Grandma rated him pretty high on her scale, however I can't remember the exact wording.

My mom had heard us talking from the bedroom and came out to join in. After she and Aunt Bev named a bunch of people who were in their forties in the seventies, therefore making them irrelevant, as we were trying to figure out forty somethings that were hot now and I wouldn't think it would be creepy to date, she finally came out with a good one. I don't know how many of you remember the show Walker, Texas Ranger (yes, that show with Chuck Norris), but in the last two seasons of it they added a younger ranger who was played by Judson Mills. Although grandma didn't say much about him, at the end of the conversation, she decided he was her favorite.

My mom also decided she liked Judson, but has a special place for poor thirty one year old Jenson. Now that's creepy. Aunt Bev took the otherwise not mentioned Johnny Depp. I didn't show him to my grandma, because he's never really sparked any desire within me. I don't find him hot and I realize that I am probably the only girl on the entire planet that does not, but I just don't. Anyway, surprise to everyone, I picked George Eads.

I had texted Becky to see what older men she found hot, and she told me there were too many to list. She's never really been shy about her love for older movie stars, but she would never date an older man. We're kind of opposites where that goes, because love is, consequently, love. Even on The Millionaire Matchmaker where love might seem weird, the matches off, love is still love. If I fall in love with a fuddy duddy forty something, it happens. I'll accept it.

Becky thinks if the guy is old enough to technically be your father, that he's too old to date. I can't say I agree with that, which I'm sure will make a lot of people say I have a daddy complex. I never liked my dad enough to want to consciously date someone who could be my dad. If anything, I'd rather run from that. I've never needed or wanted my dad, but I did want him to go away. When he did leave, I was grateful. That being said, I'm obviously not looking for a dad, but I am looking for a mature boyfriend who doesn't play games and doesn't pull the normal shit that guys my age do. If I find that in a guy my age, great, because I'm sure there are guys out there, I just haven't found them. If I find that in someone older, then I'm open to that too. It would just have to be the right person under the right circumstances. I just want someone who will actually treat me well, regardless of the package he comes in. I realize this seems to mock what I just said about The Millionaire Matchmaker, but if it works, it works.

While at my grandma's, I also pointed out to my mom that if all forty two year olds looked like George Eads, I'd never date in my age range again. I was expecting my mom to freak out at me and tell me that was disgusting, having a similar reaction to Becky only ten times worse. Instead, my mom basically told me that she would prefer I dated older, because maybe I'd stop finding such immature losers. I had to laugh, because I did not see that one coming.

I also found a song called Popular by The Veronicas off of their second album Hook Me Up. There's a few lines in it that go "So now I date up, if you know what I mean, so they shut up." I understand what they're talking about here, but I'm wondering if you turn that line around to a whole different meaning, if this could apply to dating older men too?

I also started a list of ways you know you need laid at twenty three. Okay, I know how bad that sounds, but in my defense, I didn't actually get any further than one on the list, but I meant to start one. As a joke people...AS A JOKE! For now, I'll just share one and then if I come up with more, I'll add them.

Way 1: When you find forty two year olds sexually attractive....you need LAID and by someone your own age.

I don't necessarily know how true that is, but in theory, if I was one to sleep around for the fun of it, that would probably work out well. I'm not one of those girls, nor do I normally respect those kinds of girls who sleep with guys just to do it, and I've had my share of knowing people who were like that. I need to be in a relationship before I can go there. Have I made mistakes before? Sure, we all have, but there's some girls who consciously do it because they think it's okay. There's also girls who do it and can lie to themselves to justify it and then tell you they aren't a whore. I knew someone in which I will not name who was a good example. She slept with three to four different guys a week that she didn't know and insisted she wasn't a whore. She had been doing this since she was sixteen. I'm sorry, but to me, that constitutes whore behavior. Am I wrong here?

I'm not the kind of girl that dates a lot either. Guys who do not want to treat me well seem to be attracted to me, therefore this has made me picky. I've only dated two guys, and I wouldn't even consider them boyfriends. That's a title that has to be earned by treating a person well and being there for them, two things they knew nothing about. I want to date, but I want it to be right. I know it's not going to be perfect. I don't want perfect, because perfection comes in flaws. It's the imperfect things that make everyone different, and it's those things I love.

Becky and I still joke about what losers we are though for not being able to get nice dates with good guys. Her mom even gets in on it. One of my favorite stories to tell is when Becky was getting ready to be in her friends wedding and I was helping her out with her bridesmaids dress, as the lady who tailored it did not do it correctly. We were in her living room and her mom commented on how we're going to be the perfect bridesmaids for each other because we're very honest with each other, don't want to mess around, and just want to do things efficiently. I asked her mom who she thought would get married first, and both Becky and her mom replied in unison "Nathan." Nathan is Becky's sixteen year old brother who has had the same girlfriend for two years. How sad is that?

To make sad worse, I was watching a movie where this homeless lady who was trying to turn her life around got a date with a lawyer. It made me wonder if I was defective. Is it my personality that puts the nice guys off? Is it my looks? Should I go be homeless and hope for the best? (Kidding, and I also know that people never expect to be homeless, but bad things happen, and I do feel badly for them.) It has to be something. I am doing something wrong.

Speaking of Becky's brother Nathan, he's afraid of me for no good reason. We can't figure it out, but when her parents go on vacation and leave her with him alone, and she needs a break from him, I'll come over and her brother will go hide in his room, which is pretty terrific. She also likes to play pranks on him. Well, in general we like to play pranks on people, but it's always better when it's your little brother. She once tied his doorknob to another one so when he tried to open the door, he couldn't. She also duct taped his whole doorway so the duct tape was facing in. When he opened the door he was greeted with a wall of duct tape and had to take it all down in order to get out of his room. Needless to say he was covered in duct tape by the time he got out.

While watching America's Funniest Home Videos the other night, I saw the best thing ever. Someone had taken and saran wrapped the outside of someone's doorway, so when they opened it up, they ran right into the saran wrap. Saran wrap is, of course, impossible to see since it's clear, so it would be easy for one to think they can walk right through the doorway when they cannot. An idea for a prank? I think so. Nathan can be the guinea pig.

Wow, so now that I have gotten so far off of the events of Friday, I shall get right back on that track again. In my defense, the conversation flowed right on along and I'm glad I got all of those things notated while I was thinking about them.

After the hot over forty guy parade dwindled down to nothing but a spark, it was finally time to leave after two hours, and I was not feeling any better at all. I love visiting my grandma, but I felt like I was just constantly going to throw up, so I was happy to go home. On the way out, Aunt Bev noticed this stuffed Shining Stars Koala that my grandma had on her display area near her door. I had bought it for her for Valentine's day. It's part of the National Star Registry where you can buy someone a stuffed animal, specially manufactured and distributed by Russ, and you also get to name a star along with it. Even though this is namely for kids, I knew my grandma would really like it, and she got a stuffed animal out of the deal, which is always awesome.

The koala reminded Aunt Bev of the one she had when she was around my age. She had named it Wendell. The reason? He reminded her of a man she went to church with. Oh yeah, that story is going into the record books.

After we got home my mom admitted to me that she will purposely talk to me while I'm on my computer to distract me from writing. I'm sorry, but that's just a bitch move. I'll make sure to talk to her while she's actually trying to hear a television program from now on in. Sometimes I really feel like she's like a kid, and if all the attention isn't on her, she gets upset. Maybe that's rude of me to say, but sometimes it just feels that way. This is why I normally wait until she goes to bed to get anything done, otherwise I can't keep my thoughts in order.

Did you ever have one of those people in your life that started out totally okay and then became obsessively odd all of a sudden. By this, I mean that they start out as this great person that you think you're going to have an awesome relationship with, and before you know it they're texting you all the time, bugging you all the time, and expect you to do things with them all the time or they throw a fit like a two year old. They also get in between you and your other friends and try to alienate your other friends so that they are the only friend you have left. I've recently dealt with someone like this, and I can't do it anymore.

Sometimes my Sidekick will consistently sign me into my messenger services, and this was the case Friday. I had an away message up indicating that my Sidekick was doing this, and said person IMed me anyway, not once, but consistently until I was so annoyed by my phone going off that I was ready to turn it off. I finally IMed said person back and told them that seriously, I was not here, that my Sidekick kept signing me on and they needed to please stop IMing me. I guess I was a lot nicer than I should have been because they did not stop. I try not to piss off the mentally possessive and insane, but eventually we all have a breaking point. Instead of arguing with said person, I simply blocked them. I'm not dealing with this kind of shit. Grow the fuck up.

There's a lot more to this story that I don't feel like I should write in this blog. This person's problems are their own problems, and even though I want to tell the whole story of what I've been through with this person, now is not the right time, because I still feel like said person is going to find new ways to bother me. I was told by the person who introduced us that it would be very wise of me to back away from said person nicely, as person who introduced us thought said person was nice, but the more they got to know said person they realized that, from their professional opinion, they are not all there. I'm trying to tread lightly around this right now. Hopefully it will just pass.

Also, later in the night my messenger starting randomly IMing people, and even though I had blocked this person's SN, it IMed them too. I was forced to sign off because of this. I'm not really sure what happened or why this happened, but all I know is all of a sudden a bunch of windows popped up in front of me with messages from myself saying "hey" to people. I said "hey" to no one. A little weird? I think so. Is my messenger in conspiracy against me?

My stomach did not straighten up all day, and as the night went on, I felt worse instead of better. I decided, because I wasn't up to much else at the time, to watch some television. I turned on The King of Queens reruns to find one of the funniest lines ever. Carrie was upset at Doug because she made an appointment while he was at work that he needed to be at, and he told her that he could not make it, because obviously, he was working. She got upset and he says to her "Don't get your bee in your bonnet." She just looked at him and went "A bee in my bonnet?" He replied with a "Yes, a bee in your bonnet, because that has to be possible. You can't use that because that one's MINE!" That isn't verbatim, but it will give you the generally insane idea. Loves it. A bee in my bonnet.

In light of the way I felt on Friday, I slept half of the day Saturday. It was 5:30 until I even realized what the heck was going on that day and got with the program. When I finally did, I realized that I was having such horrible right sided chest pains that I really couldn't even move. My day consisted of lying around all day, and being the kind of person who would rather be active, that did not make me so very happy at all. It only got worse as the night went on.

Saturday drug into Sunday, and Sunday ended up being hell day in general. I slept so on and off on Saturday, and was so sick Saturday night, that I ended up being up all night. I spent the night watching a bunch of Disney shows, which sparked the question, why do so many Disney kids go bad when they get older?

I was watching the movie You Wish, and decided to look up both of the stars, Lalaine (who also played Miranda in Lizzie Mcguire) and AJ Trauth. AJ grew up fine and got pretty damn hot, but Lalaine was arrested in 07 on felony drug charges for possessing crystal meth. It's a sad picture, and how many other Disney stars have we heard about in recent years that went on the way side after they got older? You wonder what makes them go that way, what makes it happen.

I finally got to sleep around nine Sunday morning, but was awoken later in the afternoon by the phone. Earlier I had mentioned the issue with the dog we've been fostering for a client of my moms, Munchie. Well, it all reached a head Sunday and I am heartbroken to announce that we are now minus a Munchie after we were told to keep her and have had her for two months.

Lillian finally decided to give into her sister and let her sister take the dog. We mentioned to Lillian how happy Munchie was here with all her friends, and had made besties with Greta, who is now missing her dearly and unsure of what to do with herself. We knew Munchie would be lonely by herself, and Lillian said to us "I know, but I don't care." What kind of person does that? It's horrible to only think of yourself and not the dog.

It's not that we wanted another dog. I'm pretty sure when I started this blog that I was all about hoping that Lillian found another home for Munchie because we are in dog overload, clocking in with three, but with the amount of other animals we have, three is enough. She grew on me though, and after we were told to keep her, I totally let my guard down and fell in love with her. I also saw how happy she was here and I knew she belonged here. Then, for the second time this year, she was moved homes. She will also be moving again in a month, as they decided the give the dog to the sister's daughter who has never even met the dog and doesn't really want her. Lillian's sister just couldn't stand a "stranger" having Munchie, so instead she's going to force Munchie on someone who doesn't want or know her. Selfish much?

I couldn't go to give Munchie to Lillian's sister. I couldn't bear it. It broke my heart to see her go, as Munchie and I were pretty close in the end. She followed me everywhere from the second she got here, and was attached to my hip. My mom said when she couldn't see me anymore after they left, she started crying and wouldn't stop. When she dropped her off with Lillian's sister, she picked Munchie up and wrapped her in plastic because she didn't want the dog getting her dirty. Yes, plastic. What kind of people are these?

I will always be Munchie's "little girl." I will always love her. I hope that she goes to a place where she will be happy, but if not, I hope she thinks of me and remembers just how much I love her. It still kills me, and I'm crying writing this, but I just want her happy. If she's happy, regardless of where she is, then I'm happy. For now, Greta and I will deal just fine. You never get over a loss in any capacity, you just learn to live without that being.

I was reminded of a song while crying my eyes out and complaining over missing Munchie. It's called Stand Still, Look Pretty (please scroll down the the appropriate track) and it's by The Wreckers off of their debut album Stand Still, Look Pretty. Two lines read "there's people who have problems that are worse than mine. I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time." That's something to live by, to always remember.

Finally, after much to do about crying, I decided to work on my novel, as the pain would just enhance the thick story line I was working on. In the midst of this consideration, I had an idea for a new novel, and as stupid as it was for me to write down my idea, I had to put the pen to paper. I don't even have a full chapter done, but I really like what I have so far, even though I'm not sold on where I'm going. No matter how many ideas I come up with, I want to pen them all because when I release my novel I want to make sure it's the one I really want to write, it's my best idea and my best effort. Unless I write down all the ideas that come to mind, I'll never really know, will I? I like the challenge.

While working on my novel, Paul IMed me. At this point I needed to clear my head so I was checking out some CSI while talking to him and taking a short break. Somehow, he and I got to talking about the hot guy on CSI, and the story about how my mom thinks he looks old and Becky and I do not. He then says to me "a hot guy is not enough to keep me watching CSI." Gotta love him. That's not enough to keep me watching any show either. I watch CSI because I love it. He's never seen it. I shall have to take the one season DVD I have of it to him and force him to watch it. Muahaha!

Speaking of CSI, because I segued into that just so nicely, I need to stop watching it. It's been hindering me getting any writing done on my blog, and unfortunately it's been hindering my novel writing somewhat too. I'm too addicted, and the problem is, it half intrigues me, and then half grosses me out, which is a horrible thing when you're sick. Normally I'm not easily grossed out, but this is when I feel well, and as of late, that hasn't been the case.

Also, if anyone caught the second half of season six of CSI, you'll notice George Eads' hair. Who let him do that? It's damn funny. In all honesty, had I always seen him with that hair do, I would have probably liked it better, as it makes him look younger, but being as he's always had short hair, that comes as a pretty funny change.

Sunday night was tough without Munchkin. Greta was upset, I was upset, and every time I thought I heard something I assumed it was Munchie when it was not. I miss her, Greta misses her, and we're both sad. I hope she's happy wherever she is right now.

Monday rolled around and I did not feel any better. I made a last minute appointment at the chiropractor because my neck was bothering me and I felt like I had a pinched nerve. I went and found out that my middle back was out really badly too. Popping everything in should have been a good thing, but was not. I spent the five hours after as sick as a dog. I should have just taken up new residence in my bathroom, seriously.

Today, knock on wood and fingers crossed, I feel a lot better. I think that my body just needed to flush out the meds they gave me as well as the saline solution, and it was all sticking in my stomach and causing spasms because my back was out behind my stomach so badly that all the muscles were clenched. It seemed like once my back was popped in and muscles loosened, my body flushed everything out. Thank goodness and I hope it stays this way.

Today was eventful for all the wrong reasons. I slept half of the day because I was exhausted from not sleeping right because I was sick. When I finally did wake up though, I felt really good, so I decided to do some laundry. Part way through doing so, the hose popped out and water went everywhere. To make matters worse, the washer would not shut off, causing me to have to unplug it. By this time I had manhandled the washer, swore, and everything was soak and wet. On top of that, I had scared the heck out of Greta and felt horribly, so I've since made it up to her by buying her her favorite cookie, the ones I usually don't buy her because they are not price effective.

Speaking of Greta, I noticed she was acting funny. She would ask to go out, but when she went out she would stop, look around, then go into the yard and walk the perimeter. She would then cry to come in, walk the house, scratch at the front door, walk the screened in front porch, and then repeat this all over again. I could not figure out what she was doing for the longest time, and then I realized she was looking for Munchie. It was a warm day and she and Munchie played together, so she was looking for her so she had a buddy to play with outside. Greta deserved so much extra attention today and I gave her all that I could. Poor sweet little girl. I love her like a sock loves a puppet and then twice as much infinity.

I also made brownies today from a pre-made mix. Once I got them made and tasted them, they were horrible. Apparently, me and that kind of mix do not agree with each other. I'm going to have to find someone who will eat the brownies, because my mom won't and I think they're nasty. I made them right, but I had tried a different flavor mix and apparently just didn't like it. Anyone want some brownies?

Currently, the mirror on my car is broken off, rendering it un-driveable until I can get it fixed, which I don't have the money to do. Therefore, my mom and I are sharing the same car. This is okay considering I'm really not allowed to drive anyways, via doctors orders, but sometimes I just have to. For instance, I've been needing to pick up a prescription at Wal-Mart for a couple of days now, but because I haven't felt well, I haven't been able to. Today was prime time to do it, but my mom had the car, and when she didn't come home by seven, I figured I would never make it before the pharmacy closed.

I happened to text Becky to ask her what time the pharmacy stops taking prescription requests for same day and she announced that she needed to go there to get a few things and would come and get me since she lives only about a mile down the road. She also works at Wal-Mart, but was off today. This was a nice surprise and really well appreciated.

I've been having stomach spasms on and off for about a year and a half. Sometimes they're little spasms that just give me heartburn and make me cough, and others they actually force "stuff" out of me because the spasms won't stop. I had been taking Amitriptyline for a nerve injury that I suffered to my foot, but upon seeing that they were making my spasms lessen, the doctor continued to prescribe them after my foot healed so that I could somewhat avoid these spasms. They didn't cure the spasms, but they helped a great deal, at least enough that I could usually deal with them.

I don't like taking the Amitriptyline for a few reasons, but the main one being that it actually alters the neurons in your brain. It's a drug that's widely used to treat depression, which, for the most part, I don't have unless I get really really sick for a few days at a time, but it's understandable why this is depressing. I really didn't want to take it though, if I didn't have to. It was suppressing me and I could feel it. It also made a huge difference in the way I was acting and I really didn't feel like myself.

Two Friday's ago, the digestive doctor prescribed another pill that I will never be able to spell off of the top of my head. It's an anti-spasmatic and should make the spasms stop, therefore rendering the Amitriptyline useless. However, he prescribed another type of pill that does the same thing as Amitriptyline, and is called Noritriptyline. I'm not totally sure why he did this if the only reason I was taking the Amitriptyline was for the spasms, but I didn't get it filled.

When I really thought it out, I figured I had a few Amitriptylines left, so I would only fill the anti-spasmatic, take it, and see if it worked or not. If it did not, then I had an Amitriptyline for backup. I then had the choice of refilling the Amitriptyline or trying the Noritriptyline if the anti-spasmatic was useless. We're just doing this until the digestive doctor can find what's going on with my stomach, since I'm gearing up to go through a bunch of tests in the next week to look for what's really going on. Thank God, another doctor that finally listens.

He also prescribed me Prilosec, which I was in the trial study for years ago. Yes, my stomach has been bothering me for ten years, even though the spasms are just a more recent thing, and no one would listen to me until now. The Prilosec was zero help to me in the study, which I told him, but he prescribed it anyway. Why, I'm not sure. Nexium works, but my insurance doesn't cover it, which figures. All in all, I don't want to be on pills for the rest of my life though. I want to find out what's wrong and fix it so that I can move on with my life. He seems on board with this, therefore I like him.

While waiting for my prescription, Becky and I did a little shopping. We were surprisingly done in fifteen minutes and damn happy about it. I was twice as happy when I realized my insurance covered all but a dollar of my prescription. Ya!

Going to Wal-Mart with Becky is always a trip, not only because she works there, but because Patrick does too, and he happened to be there tonight. I love Patrick. He is an awesomely fun kid in a little brother kind of way, and although I don't understand Becky's romantic liking towards him, everyone is different and I respect it and hope that, when he turns eighteen, things work out for them.

When I went to check out at Wal-Mart, I had to pay in two different ways. Becky can't go through Patrick's line because everyone at work thinks they're dating, but I can, so gleefully I chose his line knowing the two forms of payment I needed to use would annoy him. He tried to tell me I had more than twenty items and couldn't be in his line, but I did not. He was still disgruntled teasingly and I then told him that I had two forms of payment, maybe three, unless I felt like being nice. (Which I did.) The conversation went something like this.

Patrick: "I'm going to die right here."

Me: "Okay, just wait until you're done ringing me up."

Patrick: "No, I'm going to die right here and now in front of you to get out of ringing you up. Then, you'll have my death on your conscious for the rest of your life."

Me: "You die on me and I'm turning you into management."

Patrick: "Wouldn't be the first time."

I've hung around him too long.

On the way into Wal-Mart, we had passed Patrick's car and Becky put a thong on it. We went about our merry way and never told him. As we were getting ready to leave, he texts Becky and tells her he's going on break and he'd meet us at his car to talk. It took him a good five minutes to notice the thong, but when he did, it got pretty hectic and Becky proceeded to say "I've only seen one person wear this thong." Then she pointed to Patrick. Somehow, I wouldn't doubt it.

Patrick and Becky amuse me so much. I don't always feel like I fit in around them anymore like I used to, as they kind of have their own vibe going. You can tell they mean more to each other than just friends, and it's sweet and I don't want to interrupt it. They do however make it simply easy to make inappropriate comments around them, and I try to hold my tongue, but for anyone who knows me, you know how hard this is. I'm the queen of inappropriate comments.

After I got home, there wasn't much excitement to report. Becky was going to dinner with a friend of hers, and had to run me home first, which I felt bad about. However, said friend has never liked me and always treated me horribly, so in return, I didn't exactly like her back. We would kill each other if we had to eat together, or more like she'd kill me because I'd just sit there and she'd attack me. This is how she is. I don't understand it. I'm not asking everyone to like me, but if you don't, ignore me. I never said or did anything mean to her, I just simply ignored her because she was mean to me. Is the same treatment too much to ask in return? GROW UP!

I'm not a huge fan of the show Dancing With the Stars, but I don't dislike it either. I do happen to LOVE Lacey-Mae Schwimmer though. She's an alum of the show So You Think You Can Dance. This is her second season on Dancing With the Stars and in both shows she is truly magnificent and captivating to watch. I love dance, but learned that only certain dancers captivate me and she is definitely one of them.

This season she is partnered with Steve-O from Jackass. He hurt himself, which is ironic, I realize, and wasn't able to dance Monday night. Instead, they were forced to be judged on their rehearsal reel, in which Steve took it easy as not to hurt himself again before the real show, so the reel wasn't as great as it could have been. I expected them to go home tonight, but they did not. Instead Belinda Carlisle, formely of The Go-Go's did, but I didn't think she deserved it. Steve Wozniack is a fun guy, but definitely the worst dancer in the crew. I didn't expect tonight's outcome, but I was glad that Lacey would be sticking around for another week, and hoping that Steve gets the go ahead and dance again. She makes the show worth watching.

On a random note, I know a Steve O. That is his real name, as his last name begins with an O. He's pretty much one of the most awesome guys ever. Just saying.

Okay, now I am off to watch more heartbreaking episodes of CSI, (Reference: 6X5 Gum Drops. This is probably one of the most heartbreaking episodes ever produced for prime time television, and also shows immense acting skills on George Eads' part.) and work on my new story.

Song of today: Stronger by Jennifer Love Hewitt off of her fourth album Barenaked. She wrote this song herself. It's a good female anthem, don't you think?