Run Down

I was kinda hoping that the next time I wrote I would be doing it from the comfort of my corner office overlooking a golf course all while raking in huge amounts of money just because I am me, but alas, that is not the case. I'm sitting here from the not-so-comfortable office chair that has held my ass for last 7 years. Nothing has changed. I've applied everywhere, but no success. Just like with the weight loss I am not going to fret about it. I'll continue to make what I make now and make the absolute best out of it. I also pray each day for the strength to hold off the choking of my co-workers and/or clients.

This Thursday I will fly to Arizona for yet another fabulous SWMH Club meeting with my girls Elle and Princess. I haven't laid eyes on them since the wedding in September and I am giddy with excitement. Oh ladies, I have missed you so. I can't wait to get hammered with you.

You SO know there will be pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Also, maybe some drunk posting.

Speaking of pictures...I have some. Let me show you them.


Thomas and I have recently embarked on a journey to find the perfect cheeseburger. Thankfully there are a shit ton of restaurants in the DFW area and most of them don't suck! We also enjoy taking photos of our food and posting them on FB to make our friends and family green with envy.







We don't just limit ourselves to hamburgers and fries. While man really can exist on those two alone (and beer, let's never forget beer) we also eat seafood and cheese fries. Really good cheese fries with bacon. LOTS of bacon.


In other news, my dogs are adorable.

Stuff

If you own a dog, any kind of dog but especially large breed dogs, please heed this advice: Be ye not as stupid as I and buy some effing pet insurance. Miss Delighla has gone and ruptured the ACL in her knee. After speaking with the vet and with a kind receptionist with a chic South African accent at the orthopedic veterinary specialist's office AND learning that a surgery that MAY (that means it MAY NOT) return her to 100% AND that chances are, if she has this surgery, that she might then injure her other leg in the same fashion AND also learning that this particular surgery is about $3,000.00 (yes, you read that correctly. it's THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS OMFG.) Thomas and I have decided to take other measures. With restricting her activity, watching her closely, and giving her medication I am hoping this non-invasive and gentle approach to healing is going to work. She's not in pain, she eats like a horse, her behavior and demeanor hasn't changed a bit. She's just got a little limp.

You wanna know the best part though? Even if I buy pet insurance now and even if I have the surgery done for her, the pet insurance will not cover the other knee if it goes out as well. HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!

And get this shit right here, people - the orthopedic specialist? He works for a group. This group has four locations in Dallas AND they have cornered the extremely profitable market in orthopedic surgery for dogs! There are no other surgeons in the area that are not a part of this particular group! Now, isn't that just special?

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Tell me something, how in good conscience can a store sell a bathing suit for more than $50?

I have to be on a boat headed toward the Caribbean in 60 days. I have to find a suitable and attractive swimsuit to wear on said boat for 5 days. I would LIKE to find one that isn't going to cost me a goddamned car payment.

Also, the people who design these suits are either blind or fucking retarded because the patterns SUCK. I'm sorry, leopard print on a tankini is NOT attractive. Horizontal stripes? HELLO! Unless you're a size zero with a love for purging your meals then horizontal stripes are going to ALWAYS make you look bigger than you really are.

Once again, men have it so easy. Nobody cares what they wear, as long as it isn't some thonged zebra-striped banana hammock. Throw on some trunks and some flip-flops and they're GOLDEN but us lady folk? We've got to wade through the halters and the strings and the v-necks and everything else to find something that won't make us look like Shamu on spring break AND THEN pay an arm and a leg for it.

Good Lord.

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To my neighbors upstairs,

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

And I hate your kid.

xoxo,
The people below you who can HEAR YOU SNORE and who purposefully have loud sex in the hopes that it wakes your brat up

Daytime Television Sucks

I got out of bed this morning, kissed Thomas off to work, and hobbled right back into bed. Hunched over and feeling like I had been hit by a Mack truck somewhere between Saturday morning and this morning. That Mack truck? Her name is Janae and she is a former gymnast now personal trainer who has been put on this Earth to cause me misery and constant pain. She's evil. Cute, but evil. You want to walk around like an 80 year-old woman with bad hips and a hump on your back? Hire my trainer for 30 minutes. You won't be disappointed. So here I am, at home. One dog on the bed beside me snoring quite loudly, but adorably, and the other buried under the covers, also being adorable.

I did manage to get out quite a bit over the weekend, even with the hobbling and the looking like an old lady with osteoporosis. I almost fit in perfectly at the casino yesterday. The only thing I was missing was my electronic wheelchair and oxygen tank. However, the cigarette and steaming cup of coffee was present. Winning $200 helped ease the pain for about five minutes til I realized at some point I would have to get up from my slot machine and make my way back to the car. Some people spend Easter with family looking for hidden decorated eggs and stuffing themselves with chocolate and green bean casserole. Me? I spend it with Thomas and his family sitting around poker tables, drinking, and fighting my urge not to knock out the woman next to me who had never played blackjack before in her life yet she chooses to play at my table and fuck up two of my hands before I get up and go back to slot machines where I belong. Don't get me wrong, I prayed to Jesus several times yesterday and on the great day of His rising He proclaimed that it was indeed my lucky day and I was blessed with mad cash yo. Thanks, Jesus. You rock.


Come on, mama. Let's take another nap.

A Little Bit Of This And A Little Bit Of That

Today is December 5th and I am not yet divorced. Yup, you read that right. I was supposed to be officially divorced by December 1st. Obviously, that didn't happen.

Earlier this week I received a phone call from my soon-to-be-ex-husband informing me that, due to scheduling conflicts and work issues, he would be unable to make the 20 minute drive to the courthouse in order for a judge to finally release me from my marital bond to an absolute moron. I asked him how long was I going to have to wait. He told me not until the beginning of the new year.

Yea...that didn't go over well.

One of my mottos has always been, "If you want something done right you better do it yourself". I should've stuck with that way of thinking. See, I figured that because he was the one who initiated the separation that he would be the one who would be itching to get this divorced final. That come hell or high water he would want to be rid of me for good. Apparently, I was wrong. I nagged him til I was blue in the face about starting the proceedings. I stayed on him about getting the paperwork turned in at the appropriate times and I was the one who informed him that he needed to stand before a judge in order to finalize the divorce. I want to be D-O-N-E done done fucking done with this marriage, like right now.

Insert stomping of feet, temper tantrum thrown, and bottom lip sticking out.


To my soon-to-be-ex-husband,

A not so happy birthday to you, asshat. May your hair continue to fall out and you never lose that gut you inherited from your father. May you spawn a dozen children who are all as condescending and lazy as you, and as hideous as the creature that you mated with.

All the best,
Your soon-to-be-(thank God Almighty) ex-wife

P.S. I faked. A lot.

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Ahem and moving on...

Tonight is Thomas' company Christmas party. Food, cash bar, and the two of us looking dayum good should make for a mighty fine time. Pictures will be taken, of course. I would normally ask that you pray that I don't get tore up and make an ass of myself but with a cash bar that is soooo not going to happen.

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Last, but certainly not least, while watching TV last night Tank The Awesome Chihuahua jumped on Thomas' lap and as he was climbing over him to get to me he farted directly in Thomas' face. Seriously. Tank was all *jump, hop, POOT, jump* and the look on Thomas' face was absolutely priceless. I laughed so hard that I almost pissed myself.

I'm blogging about this for three reasons:

1. It's funny to think about a 4lb Chihuahua blowing ass.
2. Thomas should get used to me using him for humorous blogging material.
3. I like to think Tank did it out of pure revenge for all of the times the poor innocent creature has been sound asleep laying between both of us and has awoken to a wall of stink thanks to Thomas' assplosions. REVENGE WILL BE HIS DAMMIT!

Awww Puppehs Awww

I don't know why I find it so funny when the dogs lick the ice in the glass but dammit it makes me LOL every time.



Happy Friday, y'all!

Meow

Messing with dogs is fun...





I apologize for the crappy picture. It was a tad dark in the room.