Remember that project I mentioned in the last blog and how it was only going to take a few more days and then I’d get it up and share it with the world? Well, I figured that I’d add some content and wrap it up this weekend for a BIG DEBUT on Monday and… then I was bitten by the Spring Cleaning Bug and spent the majority of the weekend scrubbing floors, throwing things away and organizing my socks by color order.

I get the OCD like drive to CLEAN AND ORGANIZE and NOTHING is safe. At this point I have my bedroom, bathroom, closets, desk and laundry room CLEAN. Clean but not completely organized the way I’d like them to be. So I’m going to continue with the initial cleaning spree this afternoon and hit the guest bedroom and bathroom and then eventually move downstairs. After the whole house has been obsessively washed (Seriously, I actually do the toothbrush to the baseboards thing) then I’m going to go BACK through and get rid of MORE stuff that didn’t make it out the door in the original sweep.

I’m tired of having so much STUFF. I am a complete pack rat, I can admit it, but there comes a point when ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. Like, that parking pass from San Francisco that was sitting on my nightstand from dinner a MONTH ago? Why was I keeping that?!

Plus! I’ve been getting some cute things for the house from Etsy that I want to get hung up, pictures from Maui LAST YEAR, and I bought new ink to get up some pictures from THIS year, and wedding pictures and SO ON. But I just CAN’T hang pictures in a dirty room. I just can’t. I get out the nail and the hammer and as I go to swing, the shoe laying in the corner is like:

Shoe: OMG WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! DON’T YOU SEE ME LAYING OVER HERE JUST… LAYING!
Me: Stupid shoe. Do you see what you’ve turned me into!?

Sometimes I think I should keep these internal dialogues to myself. heh

In closing, I’ll leave you with Cassidy and her cute new haircut and her orange smile. She might not look as much like me as I’d like, but dammit I’m raising her to love and cherish her crazy side. It’s the least I can do.

PS - A HUGE thanks to the Intense Debate crew who got my comment links to work in IE. Those guys are SO GREAT about communication and customer service and if you haven’t tried it yet, please go and do it now!

Comments links are showing up in IE again! The folks at Intense Debate seriously rock!

My iPhone was stolen.

Okay, I know. I just heard you gasp and felt the disdain as you painfully exhaled and shook you fist at the sheer injustice. No, really.

It happened about a week ago and at the point in time I realized it was REALLY gone, I actually felt the machine rip the connection out of the back of my skull, flush me down the toilet and I was being woken up aboard the Nebakanezer shaking in the fetal position. It was really horrible. Seriously.

So I’ve lived the last week with no cell phone. I connected the 8525 up to our WiFi and browsing with it was like getting out of a Ferrari and being forced into a Geo Metro. It was slow and clunky and only had one browser available at a time and I had to click 14 different times to get Windows Mobile to check my email and I JUST FELT SO DIRTY.

I decided to not even activate a new SIM card for the 8525. I’d just try to live through the nightmare of being detached from the entire world for as long as it took me to come up with the $399 to replace it. Then I decided to make all the money online because I felt like an asshat because TECHNICALLY, I left the phone on the sink in the bathroom and I realize that it’s completely my fault that it was taken (well, my fault and the theiving bitch face that took it) and I’m not going to dent the bank account because of my dumbassness.

Then my mom INSISTED on buying it for me. Seriously.

Mom: So it never turned up?
Me: Nope, I’m just going to raise the money to replace it.
Mom: Come over, I want to take you to the Palo Alto Apple store and buy you a new one.
Me: Absolutely not! It’s YOUR birthday! I’m not going to let YOU take ME shopping on YOUR birthday!
Mom: I’m 60 years old, but I will STILL BOX YOUR EARS. I want my kids to be happy. That’s what I want for my birthday.

Ooooookay. So we went to Palo Alto and I got my mom some really cute earrings and lunch and… there are no iPhones in stock. ANYWHERE. In the entire Bay Area. At all.

She ended up ordering me one later online but I’m wondering if I should have waited to get one because clearly if they are out of stock at so many places, ESPECIALLY in the stores that surround the Apple complex, then they are obviously about to drop a new phone. I’ve read rumors of 3G and built in GPS but damn… I don’t think I can go a month or two or three till it comes out. I’m dyin’ over here.

Anyway, again, I’m sorry that I’ve been so quiet lately. I’ve been working on other projects and now that they are getting closer to completion I’ll have more time available again to stop neglecting aflux. Ohhhhh, did you see how I dropped the OTHER PROJECT bomb to leave you all guessing at the end of the post? Oh yeah, I did it! Is it killing you yet?

So, I color code everything. At work I have the same form but for three different tax ID’s so to make it easy to identify when I’m ALT tabbing faster than the speed of light, they all have different color bolded fonts. When people see this they immediately ask me to email them because they see how much easier it is. Then there are the people that take them and use them and then SAVE THEM to MY shared drive account with THEIR info.

LEARN HOW TO USE SAVE AS, PEOPLE. Save it to YOUR folder on the shared drive, or YOUR hard drive. But don’t change MY FORM and then save it so that when I open them all in the morning, they are all WRONG.

GAH! So I come in this morning and before I even have time to grab a cup of coffee, OH LOOK! Somebody changed my form again! I happened to have that form sitting on my desk because it was a stat request and they all have pass across my desk so I can sign them before checks can be cut.

Me: Hey, coworker. I just wanted to let you know that the CB form is available in the S drive in a CB folder so you can use that one and save it to your own S drive folder or your hard drive.
Her: Okay?
Me: Well, you used mine, and I just wanted to let you know.
Her: No I didn’t.
Me: Oh, because my form has been changed and has all of your information on it.
Her: I didn’t use it.
Me: And the information from a patient account you worked yesterday.
Her: I didn’t use your form!
Me: Okay. Well somebody used my form and submitted it and then noted the account with your name then.
Her: I didn’t use your form.
Me: I have the form in my hand with your signature on it.
Her: …

So I password protected all my forms. Even the one’s I don’t really care about because: ACCOUNTABILITY. Apparently nobody has it any more and I’m creating a weak spot on my desk from continuously pounding my head against the same spot.

Over and over.

Daily.

*Title Quote: Robert Orben

*squeel* Friday I will be announcing BIG NEWS and while I’d love to spill the beans RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, I’m not going to. And you have no idea how much it’s killing me not to tell the internet my BIG NEWS because I suck at keeping secrets. Not, like, secrets my friends tell me, but surprises. Seriously, when I have a surprise for Ben I’m like, “I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU! Do you want a hint?! Well, I’m going to give you one anyway, IT’S A NEW CAR!” Not that I’ve ever bought him a new car, but if I DID, that’s totally how it would go over.

Instead I’m going to tell you about our dinner at Outback the other night because every time I talk about it I have to stop half way through to keep from laughing and if I can’t tell the internet my BIG NEWS, the very least I can do is make you laugh.

So, the waiters at Outback have always done this thing where they sit in the booth while taking your order. I guess it’s supposed to make it feel like they’re a friend there to help you and make you feel comfortable and, whatever, just get my food and drinks to me. However you need to get that done, I’m cool.

Our waiter sits down and takes our order… and then moved in with us. Before we even had our DRINKS we knew that his girlfriend, Cassy, was a dance teacher and worked at two different dance studios, that he had recently applied to the Police Academy but then blew out his knee and tore his meniscus and some other important knee parts and was going to have surgery and he was really nervous and he loves kids and plans to have a huge family one day and…

Me: I’d like a Shark Bite with the 151 Rum floater. ASAP please.

Then he told us all about how he’d had a few too many Shark Bites in Cancun once and like, WHOAH, what a time he had.

I’m totally not joking. I’d had a REALLY rough day at work and GOOD LORD JUST BRING ME MY DRINK ALREADY! So our drinks come, my Shark Bite, a Long Island for Ben and milk for Cassidy. And shortly before our meal came he reached down to check on Cassidy’s milk and the next 10 seconds happened in slow motion:

He reaches for the drink, shakes it, goes to set it back down, misses the table, the milk hits the booth, he jumps to grab for it, pushes his thumb through the styrofoam cup and the milk proceeds to turn into a MILK EXPLOSION. At which point he starts to run around like he’s being attacked by a swarm of fire ants.

He apologized, PROFUSELY, and to make up for it brings Cassidy a big glass of chocolate milk. THANKS! Because what I totally wanted was to sugar her up at 8:00PM! Whatever. My Shark Bite is starting to kick in and I’m caring less and less. Did I mention where he sets the milk down? Directly in front of Cassidy’s left hand, two inches from the edge of the table.

I bet you can see where this is going can’t you?

Yep, that glass of milk lasted about 10 minutes before IT turned into a milk explosion. Only a CHOCOLATE milk explosion.

Me: Dude, we’re on some hidden camera show? I’m being punked, right? Where’s the camera?

The best part of the night though came straight from Cassidy herself. At one point I was telling Ben that the alcohol was making me feel warm and relaxed and…

Cassidy: If you get drunk, don’t poke holes in me.
Me: Um… Oooookay?

Back story, at one of the many parties we had at our house, Ben was “feelin’ good” and took the Henckel to the ice that I had in our favorite metal mixing bowl and now you can’t mix anything in the bowl. On the plus side, it can efficiently strain MASSIVE amounts of spaghetti.

The other gem came when I leaned over to smell Ben’s freshly clean sweatshirt for about the 30th time (I have a Downy obsession) and said again how OMG GOOD it smelled and…

Cassidy: Is it his BowChikaBowWow?
Me: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
*deep breath*
Me: What?!
Cassidy: You know the BowChikaWowWow I got him for Christmas?

*dies*

You had to HEAR her say it with that perfect nasal inflection. It was probably the funniest thing she’s EVER said. I start laughing, Ben starts laughing, she’s laughing at us laughing. I’m laughing now just reliving it! Hopefully you laughed too because that’s the end of the story.

It seems like this is how all our outings go. I have two of my own personal comedians to keep me constantly entertained and when that isn’t enough and I’ve had a particularly rough day, they enlist the help of outsiders to make it THAT MUCH BETTER.

Anyway, I need to get my 365 up and get myself into bed. I hope you all have a fantastic week! I’ll be busy, busy, busy and probably won’t be back to post till Friday when the BIG NEWS is announced.

While putting the lid back on a Tabasco bottle:

Cassidy: Is Tabasco a drug?
Me: Uhhhh, no.
Cassidy: But on the back of my book it said ‘Tabasco, alcohol and…’
Me and Ben: *laughing hysterically*
Cassidy: What?!
Me: TOBACCO. Tobacco is what’s in cigarettes. Tabasco is made with pepper, vinegar and salt and makes your eggs taste better.
Cassidy: Ohhhhhh…

When dropping off clothes at her friends so she could spend the night:

Me: Call me in the morning.
Cassidy: I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.
Me: No. Call me in the morning.
Cassidy: Can I call you when I’m ready to leave?
Me: We can discuss it when you CALL ME IN THE MORNING.
Cassidy: OKAY!

The kid keeps me on my toes for sure. She’s growing into such a cute little bundle of RIDICULOUS ATTITUDE. But some of the things she does, like that conversation at her friend’s house, still make me giggle like I’m nine years old all over again. Of course, I don’t let her see me giggle. That would be admitting defeat and she can’t see that. She has to see me being the cold hearted, uncaring, ruthless MOTHER.

Plus, I make up for the attitude by embarrassing the piss out of her in public. Having no shame is finally beginning to pay off!

When I was 14 I demanded a pager from my mother. I told her if I didn’t get one I’d run away to my boyfriend’s house. AGAIN. I’d done this once before and it was a disaster that ended with me being Grounded For Life after the police had to come get me. But that’s a story for a different day…

The pager. Yes. Every cool kid had a pager and how was I supposed to know that a party location had changed or been busted last minute without this trusty devise to keep me connected!? My very EXISTENCE ON THE PLANET EARTH rode on whether or not I had that clear devise sticking out of my tight Calvin Klein jeans (clip out thank you very much, I totally wasn’t a belt loop clipper. Eww.) and I was not at all ashamed to remind my mother incessantly by yelling, slamming my door and telling her I hated her.

FINALLY I got one.

Mom: This pager is for ME to get ahold of you. I don’t care who you give the number to, who pages you, how many times a day it goes off. If I page you, you better call me back in 5 minutes OR BE DEAD.
Me: What?! The field party I’m going to tonight is AT LEAST 20 minutes from a phone. And first I have to find somebody sober enough to drive me there and hope we don’t get lost in the desert on the way.
Mom: *blink*
Me: I’m kidding. Kind of. 10 minutes?
Mom: There is nowhere in this city, county OR STATE that is more than 5 minutes from a phone. And if there is, YOU DON’T NEED TO BE THERE.
Me: But…
Mom: *glare that was so hot it melted icebergs on other continents*
Me: Five minutes. Got it.

I can’t tell you the number of times that Stephanie and I snuck out and I’d get The Page a 2AM and I’d completely ignore it and sneak back in the house around 4ish and hope that she’d taken enough Klonopin to forget she had ever paged me. It really is a miracle that my mother even TALKS to me today. Let alone, be one of my best friends who I confide so much in. Because if I were her, I’d totally hate my guts.

We bought Cassidy a cell phone today. She’ll be 9 in 3 months and is not the first kid in her class to get one. Or even the second or third of fourth. She was “so happy I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight”. We have a list of rules a mile long and she’s perfectly happy to just HAVE the phone.

Me: So we understand? The phone is to call Ben, myself and in an emergency, Nana. If you want to call anybody else, you MUST ask for permission first.
Cassidy: I know. But I can still hold it and play with it and look at it though. IT’S SO COOL, MOM!!!

Every once in awhile I call my mom out of the blue and apologize.

“I’m so sorry about that time that the police brought us home and Stephanie was arrested and I had to wake you up in the middle of the night so the cops could explain to you that we were pulled over in the WORST PART OF TOWN. I think I understand how you felt now.”

“I’m SO SORRY about that time I lied to you about the smell in the house when you came home that Sunday. I didn’t realize that 300 drunk people in the house could SMELL SO BAD and I scrubbed for 24 straight hours and the smell, it just WOULDN’T LEAVE.”

Tommorrow it will be:

“You know all those times I didn’t call you and you sat up and wondered where I was and if I was alive and when you’d ask me about it I’d just yell at you and slam the door in your face? I’M SO SORRY!! Let me buy you lunch and we’ll go shopping for shoes we don’t need and I can grovel all day and tell you over and over again how wonderful you are.”

*Bonus points to those of you old enough to understand the title.

1) I have some more pownce invites if anybody wants one. Just comment with a valid email address (won’t be shown) or email me one.

2) Cassidy didn’t have pink eye. If her biological sperm donor had ACTUALLY taken her to a doctor like he told me he had (he didn’t), he’d have know that it was, in fact, viral conjunctivitis and the medicine he gave her (which his doctor gave to him to treat his eye God only knows how long ago for a scratch he got when he got SAND in his eye) didn’t help, it just masked the symptoms and now it’s not only in her EYES, but also spread to her EARS.

I was so pissed off about it when we left the doctor yesterday I had trouble focusing enough to just drive home. Then on my way into work I realized that, why am I so surprised by this? I should have assumed he was clueless and taken her to the doctor Sunday when he dropped her off. Especially given his track record and the time he had me freaked out because he said she had a yeast infection and how could I let her walk around like that scratching and WHAT WAS GOING ON IN MY HOUSE that caused her to get it?! So as soon as we picked her up we drove her to the doctor and:

Doctor: Hello. Here’s your Overbearing Freaked Out Parent Awardâ„¢. She has a bug bite by her vagina, fools. Next time LOOK down there before you come in.
Me: Her father told us it was a yeast infection, I put her in the car and drove her here. I didn’t have time to look.
Doctor: He was wrong. It’s a bug bite. Sorry you just wasted 1.5 hours in a room full of sick people for nothing.
Me: Can I please get that in writing so I can mail it to him with a pipe bomb?
Doctor: SURE!

Lesson learned: Assume nothing. Expect to have to clear things up on my own. Every time.

I’m not that bent anymore. In the end, it’s treatable, it only cost me $24 to diagnose and treat, and she’s home with me and far, far away from him and since he probably won’t bother to call her till sometime around Thanksgiving, meh.

3) Her arms are “very, very, very, very, very, very” sore. We are trying out gymnastics classes at different gyms and yesterday was her first ‘tryout’ and not only did she do about 30 hand stands, she climbed about half way up a 20 foot tall rope. This morning:

Cassidy: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
Cassidy: When I move my arms up and down, they hurt.
Me: You are sore from gymnastics yesterday.
Cassidy: It sucks.
Me: Yep, but the next time you go the pain will be less and then less the time after that and it will just get better. And! You’ll be able to flex and have UberMuscles so don’t get discouraged okay?
Cassidy: I’m still going! It hurts but I still REALLY want to do gymnastics.

The class yesterday was more “fun” than structure, which is what Ben and I want for her. Something that focuses on discipline, form and is pretty structured. So! I need to call a few more places and hopefully we’ll find a winner soon.

4) This turned out to be a little longer than I had planned and I should really get back to doing actual work.

YAY!

Only, not really.

Saturday Ben asked if I wanted to go look at some new stereo stuffs for my car. My M3 still has the stock head unit in it but I took the six disc changer out awhile ago because it wasn’t working for some reason which, whatever, I used the Ipod with tape adapter all the time anyway.

He warned me in advance, ‘We are just looking today. Pricing. Okay?’ as if I’m some impatient impulse buyer that doesn’t have any control. And I am. That is me in the relationship.

Ben: Do you really need more makeup?
Me: But I didn’t have this color!
Ben: Purple?
Me: It’s not PURPLE, it’s TRAX. That is other one is Violet. Plus it’s pigment, not eyeshadow.
Ben: You wear it on your eye.
Me: I JUST NEED IT, I HAVE TO BUY IT, IT’S A NEW COLOR AND SO PRETTY AND I JUST HAVE TO.

Or something.

Anyway, Ben drove my car a few weeks ago and when he put the tape in it made a sound like 500 gears being forced in the wrong direction. And that’s all it’s done since then. It. Has. Been. Rough. Mornings aren’t so bad because I listen to NPR and traffic updates but the afternoons, or anytime Cassidy is in the car, it kills me. Do you know how many times you have to search the entire FM band to find ONE good song? Well, in a three hour drive from here to Bakersfield, I managed to find ONE song. Seriously. One. Not that I even listen to good songs all the time. I mean, I have an 8 year old girl and there’s a lot of Fergie and Gewn Stefani goin’ on. Which I guess isn’t THAT bad. It could be worse. Like the Hanna Montana crap she’s suddenly OMG SO IN LOVE WITH BECAUSE SHE’S SO KEWL!

Ben: I’m thinking a nice head unit, an amp and some front speakers and you’ll be set.
Me: Whatever. As long as I can listen to my Ipod, I’m fine.

We ended up getting an Alpine iDA-X001 head unit built in collaboration with Apple for use with the Ipod. It even shows album art. TeeHee. Small pleasures. We also got some bad ass six inch Alumapro speakers for the front which will require some modification of the kick panel but these speakers almost caused me to have a spontaneous orgasm right there in the sound booth so I’M OKAY WITH THAT. Then Ben made the mistake of asking to listen to them WITH an Alumapro subwoofer and ‘almost’ turned into ‘real’ and we got it too and two Alpine amps to power them all. And they are really cute amps. That was one of them. I’m not sure which speakers that powers. I didn’t even know there were TWO until Ben just told me after laughing at me for not knowing. And blue cabling for all of it. And a capacitor, also Alumapro.

I drop the car off Friday night and can hopefully pick it up Saturday evening. *giddy*

The other big news?! Cassidy is home. Love. I was REALLY missing her the last week or so. That’s partly the reason I hadn’t blogged most of last week. All the posts turned into whiny sob stories of WHAAAA I miss my little 8 year old mouthy BFF/daughter/MiniMe! That lasted a whole 24 hours. Because she came home with pink eye (which they took her to the doctor and ‘treated’ her for so how the fuck does that happen?) and an over sized, incredibly skanky, Bratz Doll she named Cynthia. Cassidy even called her a Hoochie Momma. Thanks for teacheing her that term and letting her think it’s okay to use it in public conversation, ass fuckers.

Anyway, it’s good to have my sidekick home. And I better get to bed because I need to get up, get her to the doctor, then to work before 11:30 when we have a going away lunch for a co-worker.

Night, All!

Because I’m a responsible blogger and Surge is a DREAM KILLER, I thought that I should add that I’m doing my part to kill the planet, one cold, refreshing fix at a time. According to TreeHugger.com *tries not to snicker*, every 1 kilogram of Fiji water consumes 26.88 kilograms of water (7.1 gallons) .849 Kilograms of fossil fuel (one litre or .26 gal) and emitted 562 grams of Greenhouse Gases (1.2 pounds) to produce. Now my habit feels even more dirty than before. Only not as bad as say, if I smoked…

Some time ago I rather harshly judged somebody because they wouldn’t drink any water but Figi. I still think its pretty lame to go overboard with it which is what this person did.

Them: Oh no, I don’t want that perfectly good Arrowhead water you are offering be because I’m thirsty and there’s nothing around to drink, because I ONLY drink Fiji water.
Me: Good! Becuase I’d much rather spit on your hot, dry corpse then GIVE you a single drop of my water!

For the last few weeks I’ve been living a secret double life. I’ve gone through probably 20 bottles of Fiji water. I CAN’T HELP IT! IT’S A PROBLEM, I KNOW I NEED HELP! I’M SO ASHAMED!!!

But it’s so soft and flavorless and when its ice cold it’s like pouring liquid extacy (Not that I’ve ever done E, because I HAVEN’T. HI DAD!) down your throat. The way the supersoft water rolls across your tongue and down your throat with no aftertaste and… *starts shaking*

*grabs bottle, injects into vein*

Okay, I have a problem. BUT! I can say, that if I was thirsty and somebody offered me a bottle of Arrowhead, I’d not turn it down like some pigish, asswipe who’s SO MUCH BETTER than your crap infested, NAME BRAND water.

The other day Ben, who admits the Supreme Fabulousness of the water and has been knows to bring bottles to bed with him, was giving me a hard time about it. “what makes it so special?”, he asked. So I explained:

Me: It’s filtered through mountains and silica so that’s why it’s so soft. Mountians that are untouched by pollutants from factories or humans and think about it, even the rain clouds have no pollution in them and so the water even STARTS OUT pure and…
Ben: What about dead animals?
Me: What?!
Ben: Well, there has to be dead animals on the mountain…
Me: I hate you! Why would you say that!?

Ben always has to ruin EVERYTHING for me!! But! According to my Fiji bottle yesterday the water is protected by an Impermeable Rock that protects the water. IMPERMEABLE! Click that link. They explain that the water isn’t ever even touched by AIR, let alone ROTTING ANIMAL.

By definition, artesian water comes from a source deep within the earth, protected by layers of clay and rock. There is no opening, not even a porthole to the surface. As a result, the water never comes into contact with the air, protecting it from environmental pollutants and other contamination.

IMPERMEABLE! I think that rotting animal corpses would fall under the “other contamination” umbrella. Not that it really matters anyway. I’m stupid brave enough to drink California tap water so drinking water filtered through rotting animal corpses would probably be a step up.

Ben had a CT Scan of his head done yesterday to find the cause of the never ending headache. The results came back today and it looks like there is a fluid filled cyst at the base of his skull. The doctor said it may be an Arachnoid Cyst. In his head. By his brain. It’s not actually on or in the brain, thankfully. SO. THANKFULLY.

The last 24 hours I’ve bounced back and fourth between ‘Please don’t let there be anything in his head. Please. Please. Please’. To ‘Please let there be something SMALL and SIMPLE to treat so that he gets some relief from this pain he’s been in for FOUR DAYS.’

We don’t really know any more than that. The next step will be to get an MRI to get a better view of whatever is going on in there. The downside is I can’t help but be worried about something like this even though wikipedia makes to seem not so bad. The up side is I got to crack a joke about him setting off metal detectors because how cool would it be to have a piece of Bionic Steel in his head?!

I know that seems harsh and mean considering. But he’s already using it as an excuse for things…

06-30-2007: This conversation has been corrected after Ben reminded me how it “really went” at breakfast with a friend this morning. And really, my version made him seem less crazy, but we can go with his version instead!!

Ben: *knocks fork off counter*
Me: Dude. I was going to use that!
Ben: The auditory hallucinations told me to do it.
Me: Wikipedia said “Musical hallucination”.
Ben: The voices were singing.
Me: Oh. My. God.
Ben: *grin*

So it’s the very least I should be allowed to do.