I have created this account in an attempt to move from Blogger to WordPress. It may take some time so check me out at blogger at fiannas.blogspot.com
And if you could answer these questions…
1. Do I have to pay to change my template away from a standard WordPress template??? If not, how do I do it for free?
2. What is your favorite WordPress option vs. Blogger?
1. Do not ever ever ever let a dentist from West Texas work on you. Ever.
2. If you are stupid enough to let a dentist from West Texas work on you, ensure you are deft enough to catch your crown when it dislodges for the 4th time since placement without swallowing it.
3. Don’t go to Wal-Mart. Ever. Ever. If you are stupid enough to go to Wal-Mart, you are going to see things that will forever be stuck in your mind. A smell that will forever be remembered, an experience you are probably going to cry over when your crown falls out Again and #4 happens.
4. If you know there is a problem with a certain car part before you buy a car, don’t cry when it happens for reals after you signed the paperwork.
5. I need big girl panties.
6. Best Buy and probably all sorts of other evil empirical giant stores create false shortages of the Wii’s. Talk to the stupid sales guy who will tell you all the secrets.
7. I have a big problem with false shortages. My Wii hunt is on hold because I am mad.
8. Reading a book, while drinking a Shiner at 3 in the afternoon is the only way to feel better after 2, 3, 4 occur in quick succession.
9. Smoothies help. Smoothies with vodka instead of milk help even more.
10. I hate bad teeth, doctors, dentists, Wal-Mart, traffic, not being sold something because Nintendo tells an evil empirical giant store to not sell it so its popularity will increase, bad brakes, etc., etc. and so on and so forth.
Tell me what you learned this weekend. Or what you hate. Or what I should hate.
1. Grandmother Shower : How To Avoid – Work through it. Have your boss work you to death and you will not have to attend, but you can certainly walk in, apologize how you are doing what you got out of bed to do that day, namely work, and that you cannot attend, although you can most certainly help yourself to the foodstuffs. A majority of the attendees felt the way I and the rest of the blogiverse feels. Showers suck. Convoluted excuses for showers suck even worse.
2. I cannot get the song, “Don’t Mess With My Toot Toot” out of my head.
3. Please write some stuff. It is Friday. I am suffering from acute Friday-itis and could really use some readings.
4. There really isn’t a #4.
5. I am thinking of buying some Starbucks later today. My cheap frugalitis needs some spenditis.
6. I have no plans for the weekend. This makes me glad and sad in the same minute.
7. Lucky No. 7.
8. Does anyone out there own Lucky Brand jeans? I hear they are phenomenal on the hind quarters, but due to aforementioned frugalities, Cannot. Try. On. Because. May. Like.
9. Today is payday. Weeeeee. I sure wish I could find a Wii.
10. I was going to ask for Kaytabug to mail me her Wii, but then the phrase kinda grossed me out and reminded me of my fave spam – Update Your Pe- nis. I mean really? Is there some software to upgrade to Pen/is 2.0? Is it an easy download? What if it crashes mid-load?
11. Eww. I said mid-load.
There are many awesome things about being a chick. Being able to pee sitting down. Using hormones as an excuse for biting someone’s head off. Bath and Body Works. Thongs. Fruity Drinks drank without worry as to the “gayness”. Not having to kill spiders. Being able to feel boobs anytime, anywhere, and for any reason.
There is one thing though that makes all the above-listed items shrink away. Something that makes me wish I was a man. Something that if I can’t become a man, really requires me to work super hard in order to find that hidden reserve of estrogen somewhere deep in my soul.
Showers. What a horrible, horrible torture that only women are forced to endure. A horrible torture employed by women, upon other women.
The idiotic games, the shrieks of laughter from 20 chicks at the display of a chip and dip set/onesie/lamp/diaper rash cream/other stupid gift. The forced sitting with people you either don’t know or hoped not to have to see again. I hate the whole process. Especially baby showers where alcohol isn’t even available.
I have attended many showers, wedding and as the wedded started spawning, baby showers. Out of all the showers though, I have never had something seem so contrived as what I will endure tomorrow.
A Grandmother Shower.
I called a reliable source who confirmed this is out of the norm. My mother, a grandmother herself, called it “ridiculous” and “stupid”. Maybe she was just jealous, but when she called the thrower and/or the throwee greedy and self-absorbed, well, who am I to argue.
Lord help me. Think of me tomorrow as I will be forced to smile, shriek in unison and eat finger sandwiches, all while attempting to not stab myself with a plastic knife.
Next week, could you clear your calendar, it is Yoda’s birthday, we are having a party.
Yoda is registered at PetSmart, Macy’s and Wal-Mart.
When I crashed my car, the gentleman I ever so rudely rear-ended was amazingly gracious. He declined to take my information, allowing my insurance to remain oblivious to the danger I am on the road. He was driving a truck, so the damage to his vehicle, was minimal, but check out the damage to my poor car, it is obvious I had to cause some damage to his. Again, he didn’t take my information, get my name, nothing. A kind, Have a Nice Day, and I left the scene of the accident scot-free.
It was only later after I had some time to absorb what had happened, slow my heart rate, quit panicking, that I thought of a reason.
He must have thought I was pregnant! Some wild-eyed pregnant chick just slammed into his bumper, causing him to freak out and think of all the horrific dangers of wimmins driving cars.
Today, I wore the same shirt I had on on the day of the wreck. When I went to the W.C., I did a double take in the mirror. I wonder if I am pregnant when I am wearing it, God only knows what other people think!
So, do I get rid of it or tuck it into my closet to wear as a maternity top when I actually am, with child? I only know that I shouldn’t wear it any longer!
Anyone else swear off these tops? They sure are nice to hide the muffin top. However, I would rather not be asked when I am due. Especially by myself.
For Retrohipster:
If you aren’t a fan, I implore you to watch until C-3PO. If you don’t find that funny, well, there is no hope for you.
Is everyone aware that your auteur is a redhead? I am a redhead of the palest variety. I am translucent. I buy the absolute lightest makeup ever and it still gives my face a nice tan.
Growing up, me, Kaytabug, and our group of blogless friends all had season passes to our town’s swimming pool. We would go every day. For hours. We would spend all afternoon at the pool. If we weren’t in the pool, we would be riding our bikes around town in the hot sun. Although I have no memory of it, I must have worn some type of sunscreen since I don’t remember a completely blistered existence. Although there were a couple of blister incidents….
Did you just feel that cold chill courtesy of skin cancer? In the past, I have gone to the dermatologist, who spent less time than I have spent at a pap smear, examining my entire freckle ridden body and declared me clear. Suspect, if you ask me.
On Monday, while I was playing Kermit, my love, Not Craig, went to hang out with a friend at the pool. Not Craig is the pigmented one in our relationship. However, if you look at him today, you would wonder…
Rock Lobster.
This is not a post to make fun of him, or to point out the dangers of that evil orb in the sky (although it is evil. Very very evil.). This post is about something else altogether.
I think.
When I was just barely out of high school, one of my best friends burned herself severely. Life Flight severe. Because this blog is all about me and my needs and my wants and my funnies, without going into all the details of it, I would just like to say that burning is one of the scariest, most frightening experiences one could undergo in the category of Things Requiring Hospitalization. For me, as a friend, it was terrifying. I saw what she went through immediately after, the days and weeks after, the months, years, etc. And I know how it frightened me, which is about a gazillion times less than how it affected her. That is some scary shit.
When she was burned, I learned that one of the big things about burns is that the healing process requires mucho calories. She was eating all the time. It was awesome. I was so jealous. Which is what this blog post is actually about.
So, when Not Craig shows up burned as can be, just like if he had a cold, you have to feed it.
I went to McD’s last night after picking up a movie for us to watch.
We watched the movie. And then I returned to McD’s.
I don’t think the caregiver is also required to ingest extra calories for the healing process.
But I am not taking any chances. Feel the love. (Handles).
Long weekends are difficult for the hermit in me. I know I need to get my ass out the door and do things. Fun! Exciting! Things! Yet the Hermit says stay in, it is so hot out there. There are Fun! Exciting! Things! to do inside the doors.
A couple months ago, we had talked about going to float the river over Memorial Day weekend. I have not done this in several years. Beer, water, swimsuits. Beer helps make you forget how that swimsuit looks on you. But, as it got closer, we decided not to do that. Which may be good in light of how fat pansies are.
The in-laws were planning on coming into town today. I found out about a new display at the Natural Science Museum for the mens to hang out at. The girls, well, we could find something to do, I am sure.
Last night we indulged in beer. Copious amounts. And then some. We slept until noon. I knew that I had lots of cleaning to do in preparation for the arrival of the in-laws. I have been repeatedly told by Not Craig to chillax. His parents don’t care if the house is clean. They probably wouldn’t even notice. In my mind, that translates into, “Blah, blah, blah”. I needed to clean. So I would not panic when they knocked on the door. I had to buy groceries. I had things to do. So when I woke up at noon, feeling like warmed poo, I tried to step it up and do things. And I did. I made coffee and sat on the couch.
Then the call came.
They cancelled.
So now, my plans are shipwrecked. I do not have to clean, or shop, or entertain.
Now what?
I still feel icky. I have no clue as to what we should do this weekend now. Thoughts? Ideas? I am not opposed to being a hermit and not showering for 3 days and not leaving the house. Ever.
I am of the opinion that Not Craig will not permit this. He does not share the hermit-y factor like I do.
And if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could ya’ll post some things. I need something to read when I stubbornly glue myself to this chair for the next 72 hours.
P.S. This posting was interrupted by the urging of Not Craig to shower and go see the new Indiana Jones movie. That requires pants. That is not the weekend I have embraced in the past hour. A weekend without pants, that is.
When I was in high school, I wish I would have realized how good I had it. Besides the typical, I don’t have to work, there is always food in the cupboards, I am safe because my dad will kick some major ass right before he shoots that burglar in the face, I wish I would have realized 1) how freaking skinny I was; 2) how easy it was to stay skinny; and, 3) how it was so awesome to be able to eat Taco Bell every single day and never ever, ever consider working out.
I started to realize that Taco Bell was gonna have to go when I was about 22. I started a day job. I started sitting on my ass all day and then came home, ate crap food and watched some crap TV. And then went to bed.
Weight started creeping on. I remember hitting 130. OH MY GOD!! I weigh 130 pounds. What a fat ass!! Oh no!!
Oh please. Sister, that was just the beginning. Now, I consider 130 my skinniest. Because for me to get below 130, is just about impossible. I would have to surrender way too much. Ain’t gonna happen. Momma wants a bit of junk in her trunk. And a bit of Whataburger in her hand.
I eventually gained another 20 and decided I needed to do something about it. I started hitting the double digits in clothes and started to wonder if I was gonna have to change sections in the store. (I am all ass. What a strange sentence… I gain weight first and foremost there, I am a pear.)
I hit the gym half-heartedly. Cut down a bit on fast food. I thought I was making such a sacrifice. I was changing my entire life for about 24 minutes, maybe twice a week. Of course, it didn’t work.
Gradually, I figured it out. I knew I was going to have to work harder at kicking the weight, actually sweat, eat salads, la de da …. You know the drill.
And I did it. 130 pounds again. Woot. I rock. (At 130, I was wearing 9’s just to prove yea, I am all ass.)
So to make a long story not as long, I stopped taking care of the weight, it came back. I lost it again. And now, it is back. All of it.
I have made it back up to my heaviest. Damn relationship. I am happy as can be and so we eat. And lay around and watch HGTV and snuggle. And eat Cheez-Its.
Here we go again…
Last night, after buying the most expensive wearable item I have ever purchased – new running shoes, we went running. The park we went to has a 3 mile running track. For the similarly situated in the audience, I heard you groan right along with me. 3 miles. Running.
I did not die. Amazingly.
Of course, we did not run 3 miles. We ran 2 light poles and walked 1.
Ok, that is a lie.
We walked more light poles than we ran.
But that was because of the track dust that was suffocating me, possibly causing an asthmatic coma. (Do those happen? … It sounds good. … Moving on.) I inhaled silicate which will scar my lungs ForEver. All for skinny thighs.
Not Craig was a wonderful coach, trying to keep me going. Or at least keep me from falling down on the track from exhaustion.
Oh…that track is long. So long…
I am such a pansy.
No. I am just not as fit as I used to be. It will take time to become She-Ra again.
No. I am a whiny pansy. A fat whiny pansy.
For those Bloglines fans, like myself, I have made some changes at homebase. Take a looksie and let me know what makes you want to scratch your eyes out and I will see what I can do about it. I can’t change the color or location of the title. I have tried. Multiple times. I have resisted scratching my own eyes out due to that bug. Please don’t comment on it. I will throw Kitten out the window if I have to think about it any longer.
UPDATE: I have changed the color and kinda the location..I am still am not thrilled with the title, but it is better.
P.S. What color is the title to you? I get it in white in Firefox, grey/black in IE. WTH.
