Friday, September 30, 2016

Cats.

If you know me, you know I name everything. My iPods (Pete and Little Pet), my car (Sirius Black), you know, everything. If I could rename Siri on my phone, he'd be Tom Hiddleston, because I've changed the voice to a lovely British male voice (Because, duh!). So if you know me, you also know that I hate cats, and they hate me. just ask them. They talk in their cat network about it. A lot. But.. If I was forced to have a cat, its name would be Alex P. Catten. 

 

The thought train that lead to this epiphany this morning while I was putting on my eyeliner..

 

1. I was thinking about a trick I read about doing a Cat-eye technique. They always make it look so easy.

 

2. Who am I kidding, it’s never that easy.

 

3. I'm running way too late to even attempt a Cat-eye look today.

 

4. Strange how I love Cat-eye looks, but really don't like cats.

 

5. But ya know, cats don't like me either.

 

6. Just ask them, they'll tell you.

 

7. OMG, what if I had to have a cat.

 

8. He'd HAVE to have a great name.

 

9. He? What if it’s a girl cat. I'd need a unisex name.

 

10. Obviously it'd have to be Alex P. Catten.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Thoughts I Have..

When I see a woman putting make-up on while driving in the car (starting from the beginning):

 

·         Gee, thanks for cutting me off!

 

·         Now how about you step on the effing gas!

 

·         OMG, GO!

 

·         Whoa there lady, stay in your lane!

 

·         What are you even doing right now?!

 

·         You're giving women drivers everywhere a bad name.

 

·         Fine, eff this, consider yourself passed.

 

·         (As I'm passing).. Oh of freaking course, your putting on your make up.

 

·         Seriously?

 

·         SERIOUSLY? LIKE FOUNDATION?!

 

·         OMG. I can't even.

 

·         WHOA THERE LADY! STAY IN YOUR EFFING LANE!

 

·         I swear to you, if you hit me, I will come unglued on you beyond your craziest nightmares. You've never seen my crazy!

 

·         Gah, chicks are the worst.

 

·         Oh great, please, move behind me!

 

·         Yes, morning traffic on the highway seems like the perfect time to apply your mascara!

 

·         OMG, they are braking in front of us, please pay attention.

 

·         PAY ATTENTION!

 

·         I dislike you so much right now.

 

·         Your make up won't even look good you twit! I'm offended as a make-up addict right now!

 

·         Seriously, you're making women everywhere look so bad.

 

My life this morning on the drive to work.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

A True Story About a Very Fake Story

Kind of long, but totally worth it.

 

Okay, so the other evening, I watched the first seven minutes of Walker: Texas Ranger.

 


 

I know what you're thinking.. "What the what? That show is still on?!" The answer is no, and yes. No, it’s not STILL on.. Yes, reruns play apparently on some channel I have. 

 

It starts out with a car chase, obvs. Two rusty old cop cars chasing a bank robber proceed to crash into each other, and the cars immediately explode. Then a big pick-up truck chasing an older Trans-Am. Walker to the rescue. 

 

The camera pans over to more cops who have put up a crude road block. One cop explains the sitch, the other cop says something to the effect of "Lets catch him!" and then first cop says "We may not get the chance, there’s some Texas Ranger after him". (Lets discuss that in our brains for a second.. we may not get the CHANCE.. not we may not have to, or we have help from another side of law enforcement.. No, it’s like they are upset that they may not get to crack some skulls. Hold on to the thought of how arrogant this one cop is, it'll come in handy in a minute.)

 

The Trans-Am comes barreling through the two cop cars, they are at least six feet apart, they both get clipped, like barely, and they both instantly explode. The cops are okay, they ran out of the way.

 

Pan over to a field just past the cars where we have two hot air balloons. The bank robber jumps out of his car, and highjacks one of the balloons. So in that balloon there is the bank robber, the balloon driver, and a lady who is scared to be in a balloon on the first place.

 

So here comes Walker, he hops out of his giant truck and runs over to the second balloon, because obviously, a balloon chase HAS TO HAPPEN. The arrogant cop from before comes running after like “oh heck no, you’re not catching this guy without my help!” (As if Walker needs his help, I mean, c’mon, has he never seen the show?!). After the cop is in the balloon, he freaks out, because as it turns out, he’s afraid of heights. He’s a brilliant decision maker, this guy. 

 

Balloon chase is on!

 

The bank robber is trying to shoot the cops, but he’s a terrible shot (he clearly went to the Storm Trooper school of target practice), and then Walker gets his winning idea. They maneuver their balloon over the other one. And he prepares to jump. The cop goes “YOU’RE GONNA JUMP?!” and Walker’s genius response is “Any other ideas?”. AND NO ONE STOPS HIM. No one is likeuh, yah, there are literally a zillion better ideas than jumping from a hot air balloon while it’s in the air.

 

Walker proceeds to jump from his hot air balloon, to the top of the other balloon. I’m going to let that sink in for a second. Then, he slid down the side of the balloon, like holding on to the balloon fabric, and the bank robber had no clue.  I’ve illustrated how it worked for you:

 


 Then he jumps into the small basket that already has three people in it, and gets into a fist fight with the bank robber. And naturally, Walker: Texas Ranger, won the argument. 

 

Cut to the opening credits, including the theme song that CHUCK NORRIS SINGS!

 

This really happened in my life. I watched all of this. And I laughed so hard. I didn’t finish the episode. It obviously couldn’t have gotten any better than that. This was majestic.

Friday, June 10, 2016

Cinnamon Rolls

Picture it, Today, Oklahoma City.

I'm enjoying a delicious cinnamon roll that a local account manager was nice enough to bring in for us. It had lots of cinnamon, and lots of sugary glaze on the top.

I don't know how you eat a cinnamon roll, but the correct way is to peel the round layers from the outside in (obvs). See drawing:



So here I am, enjoying this deliciousness. And then it happens.

A big chunk of the crunchy sugar glaze on top falls off the cinnamon roll. And where does it fall you may be asking?

Down my shirt.

No bigs, right?

Except, I'm wearing a low-ish cut shirt and the glaze went straight into my bra.

I'm going to let that sink in for a second.

See second drawing:



“Okay.. so that sucks. I'll just get it out real quick.”

WRONG! IT EFFING MELTED.

Melted. In my bra. So I'm sitting there with a sticky ta-ta.

What. The. What.

So I start thinking about my life choices and what has led me to this point in my life where I'm sitting at work with a sticky ta-ta

STICKY. TA-TA.



Photobucket

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Remember Me?

So, its been a while since I've blogged, hasn't it. A little explanation.. It seems like I only feel like writing when I'm sad, and I get tired to reading about my sadness, so I can't imagine that anyone else like reading about it either. When I'm happy, words don't come to mind as easily.. I get creative in other ways.. I've taken up drawing, painting more, using oil and soft pastels, and of course making jewelry.

When last we really spoke (you know what I mean), my husband was fixing his low testosterone, and getting everything checked out. You'll be glad to know that he's all fixed up, and we are on the TTC train again. What does that mean? It means that I'm back to temping, charting, monitoring everything. Metformin and Clomid. Hormones, emotions, stress.. and hope.

Hope?

Scary thing, hope is.

I pray that my hope is not in vain, and it will pay off for me sometime sooner rather than later. I pray that I can keep my sanity (and maybe my sense of humor?) during this length of the journey. I pray that if it does happen for us, that its goes all the way for us, I don't know that I could come back from the depths of despair again. I pray that my friends and family have patience with me, that they try to keep my feelings and past/present situations in mind before judging me for outward reactions to things. I pray for the strength to make it through this. And mostly, I pray that none of my family or friends ever have to pray for these same things for themselves. I don't wish infertility on anyone. Ever. The hard part should be deciding that you're ready to be a parent, not actually becoming one.

I ran across a quote that has stuck with me the past few months..

"The world may be broken, but hope is not crazy." - John Green


Photobucket

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

NIAW 2012 - Don't Ignore Infertility

An estimated 1 in 8 couples are struggling with infertility on their journey to parenthood.

Its a bumpy road with too many ups and downs, twists and turns, littered with medicine bottles, pee sticks, and tear soaked tissues. And every mile marker is a piece of a broken heart.

With 12.5% of couples on this road, chances are good that you know more than one person struggling. If you can't think of anyone going through it, that means they are hurting in silence. I challenge those of you who are blessed to be fertile, to reach out, show your support to those of us fighting this disease.

And if you are struggling with infertility, please know that you aren't alone. Share your story. The more we share, the less people can ignore this heartbreaking disease.



Photobucket

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

I Shoulda Known

As of this evening, I'm 13 days late. And according to the stick I peed in this morning, theres no good reason for this tardiness.

I didn't have high hopes that this was THE cycle, but every day that went by without surfing the crimson wave, my hope creeped up. I let myself start to think about the excitement I'd feel if it was a positive test. I let myself mentally list off what I'd need to do, call the doctor, get blood wish done, etc. I let myself consider who I'd tell during the first few weeks.

I let myself hope.

Oh I tried to tell myself that I wasn't hopeful, that it wouldn't be a big deal if I wasn't.

Turns out I'm a liar.

Its strange how the same disappointment and hurt month after month seems to sting a little more each time. The sting in the eyes trying to hold back tears. The sting in my throat when I had to tell my husband it was negative. The sting in my heart as I threw another pee stick away.