Friends

The best quote i've heard in a while, from one of my very best friends:

"I'm waiting for my handome prince to come riding in on a white horse...and he better have a black American Express card."

I was going to post...

...and then i got sidetracked. The damn skin cat wants to play fetch, and seriously, i don't feel like it. I'm tired (it's 11:22pm), but don't feel like going to sleep. I got a callback, or an emailback, if you want to be technical about it, regarding a marketing director position for a software company. I'd love to have the job. But i really don't think it's appropriate to email them and say, "Listen you dumbasses: HIRE ME." It's really just not proper, I don't think. Maybe if I called them "assholes." Yeah, maybe that's more politically correct.

No liquor involved...

I have a scratch on my upper lip. --sigh-- guess that's what happens when you try to put a cat's head in your mouth. For the second time. While your brother tries to take a picture.

Welcome to my house!! It's loads of fun.

Needed: Laboratory Eye-Wash Station

I've had something in my eye for...oh...about 2.5 hours now. I can't see it, but I can sure as hell feel it. It feels something akin to having a brick under your eyelid. Oh yea...Niiiiice. As long as i don't blink, i can't feel it. I'm about to use a toothpick to prop my eyelid open. I've tried to rinse it out, i've Visine-d it, i've prescription-eye-dropped it--NOTHING. I've pulled my eyelid up as far as it could possibly go and tried to look. Do you realize how difficult that is? My breath keeps fogging up the damn mirror, and then my whacked-up eye is watering, and my other eye, which is my "I-need-glasses-for-this-one" eye, is all, "What the fuck am I supposed to do now??" It looks like I'm crying, but somehow limiting it to my right eye only. It's like a frickin parlor trick: "Behold! The one-eye-crying lady!!" Except no one's ooo-ing and aaahh-ing, and the cat just keeps looking at me like I'm weird. I'm just going to throw a patch over it and pretend i'm a pirate. Arrrggghhh! I don't, however, have an eye patch. But I DO have those random nipple-cover thingys. You know...those self-adhesive "breast petals" that you stick over your nips to avoid see-through of the nipplage-area? I'm just going to stick one of those bitches over my right eye, then hope I don't get cold. I'm single-nippling it, baby. At least you won't be able to see my wonky eye.

Spring Break is going to kill me

It's Spring Break. I'll be dead before tomorrow. If I make it that far. Every year, I usually do something awesomely fun with the chicks. Last year, we went to San Diego. This year, Mommy doesn't have a job; we went to the museum. Okay, we TRIED to go to the museum. That whole entire area of Houston, albeit beautiful, sucks royal goat balls. First of all, whose damn near retarded idea was it to put the museum district, the zoo, a college, and a golf course near the MEDICAL CENTER?? I mean, seriously, wtf?? "Hey, Bob, here's an area where several hundred children are going to be hanging out! Let's ensure that speeding ambulances zip through here on an hourly basis!"

---break---
[I just cleaned The Munch's room with a garbage bag, and she's crying for her toys back. Bwahahahaha! NO. I think not, wee messy one.]
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Okay, back to the craptastic design of Houston. So, it's Spring Break. EVERY SINGLE child-owning adult is in the area. Trying to find a parking spot. And there are none. There is not one freaking parking spot in the general vicinity. The closest one is about 5 miles away. AND, because it was so crowded, instead of bowing to the stop lights and letting THOSE direct traffic, the cops were out directing traffic themseleves. Yes, we all know how well THAT works. Note to Cops: My car is small, yet it can still run you over and hurt, so do not give me the stink eye when I cringe and beat my steering wheel because i've been waiting in traffic for 45 minutes to make a right turn and then when i get up to said turn, you toot your little whistle and tell me I can't. AAArrrrggggg!!!

I drove around for ONE AND A HALF HOURS trying to find a parking spot. And, I'm sure that i never really traveled more than a mile. It was awful.

At one point, i just became delerious and started laughing. I asked the girls, "Say, how's that backseat?" My answer (from Claire, the master comedian): "BORRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNG." I said, "Really? I'm having a damn near blast up here in the front seat! Dontcha wish you were hanging up here with me?? WOOOOOOOO!" They both just looked at me like I was certifiable, which, to their defense, I probably am.

I FINALLY was able to break out of the circle of hell that is N. MacGregor St., and we cruised through Memorial Park. We stopped at the picnic area. And i'll be damned if I didn't have to pee. I am NOT a public pee-er. UGH. They had those stainless steel toilets that harbor unknown diseases and the community toilet-paper roll that also harbors unknown diseases and is just moist-feeling and disgusting because it's been sitting in the outside bathroom for ages. And there was sitting water on the cement floor, cobwebs, and no doors to the stalls. It was a primo setup ladies. I wouldn't have sat on that toilet for a thousand bucks. Oh wait, i don't have a job. Anyone want to give me a cool G to sit on the silver potty? Anyways, after I scrubbed my hands raw with the super-sanitizing kit I carry in the Mini, we found a sweet little picnic area. We spread out our little blankie and had ourselves a picnic. Then we saw the big ants. The picnic didn't last long.

Today, we went to this place called "ITZ." It's like a Chuck E. Cheese on steroids. I hate people and their screaming little shits, so I made sure that we got there right when the place opened. It was pretty sweet--we had the whole place to ourselves for about 10 minutes, then some kind of random Baptist daycare showed up. Ah well, you win some, you lose some. We played the games for a while, waited in a short line to get on bumper cars, then found out that Clairey couldn't ride because you have to be 44 inches tall. Bummer. Clairey and I sat and watched Jenna bump into random people. That was fun. I don't think they enjoyed me yelling, "Go bump the shit out of that annoying little bastard! Don't let him do that to you! Give the little fucker whiplash!" Actually, I didn't do that. I spent the 2 minutes that Jenna was on the bumper cars, consoling Clairey, telling her that when she's 10 she'll be tall enough to ride.

After using up the majority of our game points, we wandered over to the buffet, which you HAVE to buy in order to play. Sweet baby Jesus...this place serves wine and beer. It is now my favorite establishment in which to bring my children. Nothing says, "i love you," like getting swilled while watching your children play in a germ-infested arcade.

After we ate, I wasted the last 20 points trying to win some kind of random plush bullshit out of one of those crane games. Why do kids want that crap? And then, when I don't win anything--because the 'crane' can hold 1 pound, yet the plush POS is 4 lbs--my kids are devastated. If i ever see someone loading up that machine, i'm going to punch them in the nads. And then steal a CareBear and call it a day.

Right now, the chicks are swimming. I can see them through the window--thought i'd add that in there in case anyone wanted to call CPS. I can SEE them. The water's frickin arctic, but i was sick of listening to them whine. I told them if they get pneumonia, I'm going to laugh and not give them medicine. They have to learn somehow--call it 'tough love.'

Random

So, it's 11:18pm, and I really, really should be in bed. My allergies are killing me. It's this LOVELY Houston weather. Seriously, wtf is up with this crap?? The chicks were SWIMMING Tuesday, and today it's damn near close to arctic. It's so freaking cold, that the pool is STEAMING. Let me make it clear to you, that my pool is NOT heated. So, the 60 degree water in the pool, is steaming because it's so cold outside. Ballsack cat's balls are nowhere to be seen--THAT'S how cold it is.

Next...

I'm loving me some Facebook. I hated Myspace. I really did. Although, I will let you know that there is just a damn near precious slideshow of the chicks on there. If it doesn't make you cry then you're a commie bastard. If you look in my September 08 posts, it's probably in there somewhere, too. Cry, you bastard, cry. Back to Facebook. That there, my friends, is some good shit. Do you know how many people i've found on there? Pretty much everyone i've ever known in my life. EXCEPT for my 2nd-grade boyfriend, Jay Phelan. I don't know where he is. He gave me a Holly Hobbie card and chocolates for Valentine's Day in 1982. What a man. And then there's the young chap that every female in my family had a mad crush on for years. Yes, even my mom. It was inappropriate then, and really, it's inappropriate now, but i'll let it slide. And THEN there's my best friend from 3rd grade. Jenny...i've been looking for her for years, and just found out that she lives right down the street! Seriously. I'm not kidding here, people. I'm SERIOUS about facebook. Damn serious.

Next...

Tito the Teat-Suckling Cat is sleeping in my lap. He's not suckling his teats. Let's all take a moment to rejoice.....[here's your moment]...aaaaaaannnnndddddd...rejoicing is over. He'll be back to his regular teat-suckling schedule soon.

Thinking, and thinking some more...

It's been 4 weeks that i've been without a job. Four LONG weeks. I hate not working. I really, really do. I've always thought, "Man, I wish i didn't have to work," but now that i'm not, i miss it. However, I think the difference may be that i actually HAVE to work--if i were independently wealthy, then i probably wouldn't care so damn much if I sat at the computer, looking through the window, wondering (simultaneously) if the rain's ever going to fucking stop and if i'm going to lose my house. I'm also wondering how it can be 85 degrees one day, then 50 the next. I mean, come on now.

I'm really not a whiner. I don't complain when i'm sick (although i'm never really sick, so there's nothing to complain about), I haven't really complained much about losing my job. I'm really and truly a HAPPY, HAPPY person. But on Tuesday night, I cried. I was all by myself in my living room, and i sat on my couch, and cried. I was crying because a) i don't like not working b)i don't like not making any money c)i don't like spending my savings d)i don't want to lose my house. But the main thing...the MAIN thing i was upset about was, if i lose my house, my girls would lose their bedrooms. So, essentially, I was bawling (quietly) that Clairey would have to give up her perfectly pink princess bedroom that she loves, and Jenna would have to give up her turquoise rock-and-roll bedroom. I just was thinking how much it would break their hearts. Then I walked into the bathroom, looked at myself, and called myself a retard.

I know damn well that i will work 2 jobs to be able to stay in this house. I have been very fortunate over my career to have advanced in both position and salary. I've been wondering if i'm really talented in what i do, or if i've just been lucky over the past...what...14 years. I was talking with a very good friend of mine yesterday, who also got layed off, and we were discussing what's going to happen if we DON'T get jobs soon. We got to thinking...as we were sitting in her hot tub with mojitos. Right there, that told us something: We're MUCH better off than most. We have roofs over our heads, mojitos in the fridge, and a hot tub.

So, I reevaluated my "worst-case scenario." Here it is: I don't find a job paying what I used to make by the middle of April, therefore, using all my savings to pay for my house and bills. In May, i'll start teaching full-time at the college, making nearly 50% less than what I WAS making, and will have to wheel and deal with my creditors. My credit will, most likely, be screwed. Bottom line: I'll still have a home for my babies. There will be food on my table.

I still won't have a back fence.

You win some, you lose some.

Not too bad. Better than most. I'll make it just fine.

I'm not saying that i won't cry again. I will. But that's okay.

So...how YOU doin'?

It's 9:29pm. I'm eating Oreos, drinking non-spiked cherry kool-aid, and editing "World of Warcraft" articles. How old am I?

Ballsack Cat

Yesterday, while playing fetch with Tito the Hairless Cat, I noticed that he had a...a SWELLING on the left side of his face which extended to under his kitty-chin-chin. Okay, so it was more than a swelling. I thought, "Holy FUCK! What the hell happened to the cat's head??" So i took it upon myself to find out what was wrong.

 
I hopped on my computer and positioned my fingers to start typing. Then i wondered, "What the hell am I supposed to type?" "Cat face swollen as fuck." "Cat swollen lymph nodes." "Cat Strep Throat." I just gave up. I decided he had a goiter. I was calling him "goiter cat" all night. I don't even know what the hell a goiter is, except that old people get them, and they look like you probably stink when you have them. Is "goiter" even a "them," or is it an "it?" See? Told you I don't know.

Anyways, Goiter Cat is all better this morning. Which is good, because since he has no hair, it looked like he had a big, hairless ballsack under his chin. "Ballsack Cat" has a nice ring to it.