Costco aggravates me. Yes, I'm a member there. I choose to go there, but I find myself getting incredibly irritated almost every time I shop there. Oddly enough, I pay for this experience. It's mind boggling.
I am 90% certain that my death will occur in the Costco parking lot. It's a morbid thought, but honestly I suspect that this is my fate. It could happen any number of ways. An aggressive mini-van mom could mindlessly back right into me because her cargo area is stacked to the brim with frozen waffles and toilet paper. She could also just ram me head on because she remembers that I'm the huge haired guidette that took victory from her in an earlier parking spot battle. What can I say, my blinker is brighter and I won't take no for an answer.
My death could also stem from a physical brawl. Hand to hand combat if you will. Why, just last week Dave almost got into a fist fight with a middle aged Prius driver. This old dude made a classic error. He didn't get to pull out of his parking spot for a bit because parking lot traffic was rather heavy. So he did what we all do in that scenario. He started talking shit. That's all fine and dandy in the winter, but it can get you into trouble when the weather's nice, because we tend to forget that everyone can hear that smack talk when our windows are down.
This fellas trash talk was LOUD (like he was speaking in capital letters loud), and Dave wasn't havin' it. Something just comes over people in that damn parking lot, rage I think it is. So my husband slammed on the brakes and put the car in park. He then exited the vehicle to see if old man really wanted to continue the brawl once he saw who he had mistakenly chosen to battle (a descendant of the Vikings). Needless to say, grandpa shut his trap and drove home. I loved every second of this encounter. I suspect that this is ultimately what is wrong with me.
I've also thought that my death could happen just as easily inside the walls of the store. Any number of ways really. It could be as simple as me refusing to show my membership card at the door. It's a warehouse store for goodness sake!!! It's not like I'm trying to waltz into a North Korea. Maybe the "bouncer" at the Costco entrance won't be in the mood for my antics and bam, I'm bludgeoned to death with a flat screen or a large jar of mayonnaise. You just never know.
My mouth could get me into trouble too. Sometimes my thought bubbles burst and I accidentally voice my inner judgements aloud. Like yesterday for example. I was looking over the produce when I spied a woman that was practically begging me to judge her. She was at Costco, midday, just like me, only she was dressed like a dowdy hooker. I couldn't help wondering why anyone would bother dressing like a homely street walker when their plans include a trip to a warehouse store? I don't know if she heard me, but I couldn't help myself from letting out a sad, "Oh boy" upon seeing her awful ensemble. I mean honestly, if you're dead set on looking like a lady of the night, at least make a better effort and look hot. If I was her pimp, I'd smack her around over that outfit choice for sure.
The last cause of death is pretty simple. Cardiac arrest. I had a hell of a meal there yesterday. Nope, it wasn't the pizza and churros at the front of the store. I ate enough greasy, delicious samples to harden and clog even the fittest of arteries. My sample lunch was delectable. Sausage, potato ravioli, cheese ravioli, pot stickers, teriyaki chicken, popcorn, cheddar cheese (like anyone has NEVER tasted cheddar cheese???), granola bar, potato chips and pasta with a lovely red sauce. Why anyone would waste their money on food at the front of the store is just beyond me. They are handing it out for free all over the store! Well, not exactly free, I did buy a membership to eat that free lunch. I'm dumb as hell sometimes.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Happy Mothers Day
Way to go Linda! I love you and I still can't believe you had me without any sort of drugs. Oh yeah, and I'm super sorry that I caused you to get that hernia. I love you and appreciate all that you've done for me and my own kids. Happy Mothers Day.
Apparently the timing of our chat could not have been better. I was handsomely rewarded with one of the best gifts I've ever received during our 11 year marriage. An iPad mini!!! As some of you may already know, I do not own a smart phone. I'm still rockin' the flip phone and for the most part I'm fine with it. Sure, it's a little embarrassing to have the same phone that most elementary school kids own, but it gets the job done for a tenth of the price of a smart phone. I just have that T-mobile pay as you go plan and my phone service costs about $150 a year. I get the thrill of a good deal just even typing that last sentence.
But I digress, I now have an Apple gadget and I feel sort of bad ass if I'm being honest. This thing just kicks ass. I can read books on it, play Candy Crush on it and it somehow it magically gathered all my iTunes music onto it. Oh yeah, I can even text on it. This is revolutionary for a gal like me. You need to recall that texting on your old flip phone sucked royally. If I want to type the letter "c", I gotta tap that #2 three times. Remember that? It's brutal. The upside is that I have no choice but to pull over if I'm sending a text. I'm a hell of a multi-tasker, but even I can't memorize how many times I need to press the #8 to access a letter "V". I'm not entirely certain how it all works on the iPad, but I'm willing to learn because I love this gadget like the third child I'm not having.
Yep, Dave knocked it out of the park with this one. He stepped out for a few hours Saturday morning to "check a job". He legitimately did have to go check a job site, but then he went shopping my gift. This is usually Dave's standard protocol. He goes to a store and buys me a present and a card. He chooses great cards and then he goes out to his truck and writes, "Yeah, that sounds like something I would say" right after all the sweet, Hallmark sentiments and he signs it, "Love, Davey". He then drives directly home, walks in the door (washes his hands because he's a germaphobe) and gives me my gift in the shopping bag from the store. The receipt is always still in the bag and then he'll say, "There's the receipt if you want to return it and get something better". He doesn't give a shit if it's ten days before the holiday or the day of. He doesn't dink around with wrapping paper and hiding spots.
This year he accidentally gave me a triple threat gift. Our anniversary is a week or two away from Mothers Day and the price of this gift means that it will cover him for both occasions. He then accidentally got me a card that says, "Happy Birthday" and the bottom instead of "Happy Mothers Day" (this is classic Dave). He was very pleased when I brought this to his attention. He will now joke for the next 5 months about how he's already taken care of my birthday gift and card (albeit VERY early).
As they say in the South, "Bless his heart!".
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Wheat Joy!!!
With 3, count em, THREE exclamation points!!!
This post needs to be read with extreme enthusiasm. Last week, my four year old daughter ate wheat! She ate a few pieces of whole wheat pasta to be exact. If she passed this food trial I knew that her life was going to change in such a positive way. If she ended up throwing up for hours, we would be looking at a pretty major set back. This is the odd world of Food Protein Induced Entercolitis Syndrome (FPIES for short). A world that we have been living in since we first learned that acronym when Lyla was 7 months old.
Six weeks ago I decided to take my daughters digestive problem into my own hands. I scheduled an appointment with a Chiropractor. Little one wasn't getting adjusted or anything like what you'd expect from the word Chiropractor. I took her to a man who uses a treatment called Nambudripad's Allergy Elimination Technique (NAET for short, we like acronyms around these parts).
This treatment is weird and it involves concepts like "balancing energies". It sounds hokey to a lot of people, but it's totally non-invasive and it's the only thing available to try. I'll admit that before we even met Dr. Goulding, I was already referring to him as the "witch doctor". I had done a lot of internet research about this strange treatment and the two main points that I took with me were these. Leave your logic at the door, and it works for a lot people. With that in mind, I went for it and I'm glad I did. It was strange as hell, and my husband thinks I am crazy (nothing new there), but my daughter is sitting across from me right now, eating a freaking cracker!!! Believe it or not, this has been my wildest dream for the last three and a half years. It has been realized and now I want to ride a unicorn over a rainbow with Adam Levine. Fingers crossed, that will happen too!
She isn't eating something really tasty like a goldfish cracker or Ritz (way too many ingredients for me to panic about). She is indulging in a box of Carr's Table Water Crackers. If you don't know what these are or what they taste like, I'll explain. Go to your grandma's house and look for a dusty black box in the back of her pantry. Inside you'll find a sleeve of bland, tasteless, white crackers. You'll taste one and you'll throw the rest away because you're certain they're too stale to eat. They've gone bad is what you'll think. The average 5 year old would spit it out during a taste test. They aren't special. Your grandma doesn't even like them. She eats one every now and again to remind herself of the horrible, lean times of her childhood, better known as the Great Depression.
So Little one is eating the tasteless crackers and she is overwhelmed with excitement. She is giddy as can be with this new addition to her diet. She is fighting the urge to put this entire sleeve of white crackers into her tiny belly. "These are just too Yummy!" she says with absolute sincerity. This little cracker represents the beginning of what I hope will be a more normal diet. We haven't tried her other food enemies yet, corn and rice. Last time I checked, milk and eggs give her hives. Who knows if she can have oats? Her favorite treat is a Hall's cough drop (don't judge, corn syrup free and milk free sweets are impossible to find). It's not a slice of pizza or anything, but she can eat a bland cracker and I'm thrilled beyond belief. It's days like this that I know for certain that it's the little things in life that you have to grab onto and enjoy. This is, without a doubt, my best little moment of the year.
This post needs to be read with extreme enthusiasm. Last week, my four year old daughter ate wheat! She ate a few pieces of whole wheat pasta to be exact. If she passed this food trial I knew that her life was going to change in such a positive way. If she ended up throwing up for hours, we would be looking at a pretty major set back. This is the odd world of Food Protein Induced Entercolitis Syndrome (FPIES for short). A world that we have been living in since we first learned that acronym when Lyla was 7 months old.
Six weeks ago I decided to take my daughters digestive problem into my own hands. I scheduled an appointment with a Chiropractor. Little one wasn't getting adjusted or anything like what you'd expect from the word Chiropractor. I took her to a man who uses a treatment called Nambudripad's Allergy Elimination Technique (NAET for short, we like acronyms around these parts).
This treatment is weird and it involves concepts like "balancing energies". It sounds hokey to a lot of people, but it's totally non-invasive and it's the only thing available to try. I'll admit that before we even met Dr. Goulding, I was already referring to him as the "witch doctor". I had done a lot of internet research about this strange treatment and the two main points that I took with me were these. Leave your logic at the door, and it works for a lot people. With that in mind, I went for it and I'm glad I did. It was strange as hell, and my husband thinks I am crazy (nothing new there), but my daughter is sitting across from me right now, eating a freaking cracker!!! Believe it or not, this has been my wildest dream for the last three and a half years. It has been realized and now I want to ride a unicorn over a rainbow with Adam Levine. Fingers crossed, that will happen too!
She isn't eating something really tasty like a goldfish cracker or Ritz (way too many ingredients for me to panic about). She is indulging in a box of Carr's Table Water Crackers. If you don't know what these are or what they taste like, I'll explain. Go to your grandma's house and look for a dusty black box in the back of her pantry. Inside you'll find a sleeve of bland, tasteless, white crackers. You'll taste one and you'll throw the rest away because you're certain they're too stale to eat. They've gone bad is what you'll think. The average 5 year old would spit it out during a taste test. They aren't special. Your grandma doesn't even like them. She eats one every now and again to remind herself of the horrible, lean times of her childhood, better known as the Great Depression.
So Little one is eating the tasteless crackers and she is overwhelmed with excitement. She is giddy as can be with this new addition to her diet. She is fighting the urge to put this entire sleeve of white crackers into her tiny belly. "These are just too Yummy!" she says with absolute sincerity. This little cracker represents the beginning of what I hope will be a more normal diet. We haven't tried her other food enemies yet, corn and rice. Last time I checked, milk and eggs give her hives. Who knows if she can have oats? Her favorite treat is a Hall's cough drop (don't judge, corn syrup free and milk free sweets are impossible to find). It's not a slice of pizza or anything, but she can eat a bland cracker and I'm thrilled beyond belief. It's days like this that I know for certain that it's the little things in life that you have to grab onto and enjoy. This is, without a doubt, my best little moment of the year.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
A New Kind of Drug Dealer
Please don't confuse this post with a political statement. It's merely an idea I've been tossing around in my head.
I wish that I knew a local drug dealer that rose above the crowd and started dealing nothing but antibiotics. I would hope that this business would be lucrative enough that said drug dealer would be able to do this exclusively, there by letting me avoid the meth heads and crack whores when doing our drug deals. I would do a good deal of business that sort of person. If you're the person in your family that is in charge of the schedules and the finances, you probably understand exactly where I'm coming from here. When someone in my house gets strep or pink eye, I just want access to the meds, without jumping through all the formal medical hoops.
We have health insurance now, we haven't always, but we do now. We pay a hefty price for it too. I'm grateful that it's there, but most of the time I consider it to be "oh shit" insurance. By that I mean that this insurance sucks for the day to day stuff, but I'd be really glad I had it if someone in my family needed surgery or something majorly expensive. If the diagnosis makes me say "oh shit", we're covered. But this insurance company will haggle you to death on everything else. Example, "Are you sure you weren't crazy before we started your coverage?" "We'll need proof that your kids case of pink eye happened after your coverage started. For all we know she's had pink eye for the last six months and you're only deciding to treat it now." Pathetic really.
Not to mention that they take a good six months to decide if they're paying your doctors a cent. The management at that company really needs to eliminate Facebook access from the office. I know every claim processor is a whiz at Words with Friends and they must all be near the end of the Candy Crush Saga. They sure as hell aren't working away at paying claims. I'm embarrassed to go to a doctor because of this. I'm a prompt bill payer and it infuriates me that I look like someone that gets regular collection calls.
I remember when I first became a parent and I needed the doctors opinions and advice for every little cough or sneeze. Those days are long gone. I know pink eye when I see it. I don't want to wait for a doctor appointment, pay the office $125, and waste and hour and half of my time for the doctor to tell me what I already know....we need prescription eye drops. Let's cut to the chase already. When a kid wakes up with red, goopy eyes I want to page my dealer (I'm so 1996) and meet up in a parking lot for the exchange. It's simple and effective.
I'm not saying I'm qualified to be a doctor (though I totally think I'm qualified to be a doctor), but I know strep when I see it. I know an ear infection when my kid is burning up and crying in horrible pain, and I don't want to make an appointment at the Pediatric care. My mind calms down and sings one song over and over again. It's the famous words of my favorite Youtube anthem, "Ain't nobody got time for that!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=Nh7UgAprdpM
I wish that I knew a local drug dealer that rose above the crowd and started dealing nothing but antibiotics. I would hope that this business would be lucrative enough that said drug dealer would be able to do this exclusively, there by letting me avoid the meth heads and crack whores when doing our drug deals. I would do a good deal of business that sort of person. If you're the person in your family that is in charge of the schedules and the finances, you probably understand exactly where I'm coming from here. When someone in my house gets strep or pink eye, I just want access to the meds, without jumping through all the formal medical hoops.
We have health insurance now, we haven't always, but we do now. We pay a hefty price for it too. I'm grateful that it's there, but most of the time I consider it to be "oh shit" insurance. By that I mean that this insurance sucks for the day to day stuff, but I'd be really glad I had it if someone in my family needed surgery or something majorly expensive. If the diagnosis makes me say "oh shit", we're covered. But this insurance company will haggle you to death on everything else. Example, "Are you sure you weren't crazy before we started your coverage?" "We'll need proof that your kids case of pink eye happened after your coverage started. For all we know she's had pink eye for the last six months and you're only deciding to treat it now." Pathetic really.
Not to mention that they take a good six months to decide if they're paying your doctors a cent. The management at that company really needs to eliminate Facebook access from the office. I know every claim processor is a whiz at Words with Friends and they must all be near the end of the Candy Crush Saga. They sure as hell aren't working away at paying claims. I'm embarrassed to go to a doctor because of this. I'm a prompt bill payer and it infuriates me that I look like someone that gets regular collection calls.
I remember when I first became a parent and I needed the doctors opinions and advice for every little cough or sneeze. Those days are long gone. I know pink eye when I see it. I don't want to wait for a doctor appointment, pay the office $125, and waste and hour and half of my time for the doctor to tell me what I already know....we need prescription eye drops. Let's cut to the chase already. When a kid wakes up with red, goopy eyes I want to page my dealer (I'm so 1996) and meet up in a parking lot for the exchange. It's simple and effective.
I'm not saying I'm qualified to be a doctor (though I totally think I'm qualified to be a doctor), but I know strep when I see it. I know an ear infection when my kid is burning up and crying in horrible pain, and I don't want to make an appointment at the Pediatric care. My mind calms down and sings one song over and over again. It's the famous words of my favorite Youtube anthem, "Ain't nobody got time for that!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=Nh7UgAprdpM
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)