I'M BACK!!!!

Wooohooo! Being so sick for so long did NOT cause permanent brain damage!!! I can now focus for longer than it takes to watch a sitcom. I just started taking my GIA quizzes again and I passed! I'm on my way back to the land of the living. Thank god. Only 4 more to go and I can take the big proctored test for Diamonds and Diamond Grading. WEEEHAA! I can't tell you how good it feels to make some POSITIVE steps for the first time in months. I may even call Blue Nile and see if they have positions open...I think I deserve another shot at working there. Hell I've already interviewed with 9 people at that company. What have I got to lose?

KIDS

The subject of children has been a big one in my life. In my 20's having kids was something I was too busy to do, and going out clubbing 3 nights a week would not have made a motherly schedule. Through my 30's I briefly thought I wanted a child with my ex, looking back on it that was only a desparate 'fix-this-relationship-before it goes- down- the- tubes-completely' thing. I'm so very glad I changed my mind, that's a crappy reason to have a kid.
In 1997 I met my husband. He and I share the same thought about procreating. It's just not our thing. In 2000 I had emergency surgery to remove a cyst, and they had to take a fallopian tube with it. Two years later I decided to make the descision permanent and have the other one "tied". Our friends have been really great about it, with a couple of weird, angry( jealous?) ex-friends as exceptions, everyone is as respectful of my descision as I am of theirs. Thank you for that. This is why I'm happy to call you friends.
As you get older, people do start having babies. Scott and Debbie were the first ones to boldly go there! Liam is an AMAZING little boy, and one of my favorite people. He has been from the first time I met him. Chris is in love with him too. The three of them are family to us, always will be.
Michelle, a beautiful and extremely Star Wars savvy 2 year old is someone we'd like to see more of, along with her parents Rod and Allison of course!
Dave and Tiffany had Max last winter and we became Weird Uncle Chris and Crazy Aunt Angie. We would do anything for that kid.
And the family grows. I'm suprised how much I like it.
Being Crazy Aunt Angie is a good gig!

CHI EATS THE WORM!

As chronicled in previous posts, I'm relying on a few different medical disciplines to treat my asthma and painful cough that's been going on all summer. My acupuncturist told me that a chronic cough is known as "rebellious chi" in Chinese medicine. I have rebellious chi. Teehee.
Laying there with needles sticking out of me, I was picturing my chi in a leather jacket riding a Harley into the sunset. I'm pretty sure my chi left me all together this summer to go to Sturgis, do tequila shots and brag about the good old days before helmet laws.
Yep, I should have been a doctor.

DICKING AROUND

I think we found somebody who's time actually would be better spent thinking up names for hurricanes.

Brown Blames 'Dysfunctional' Louisiana AP - 32 minutes ago
WASHINGTON - Former FEMA director Michael Brown aggressively defended his role in responding to Hurricane Katrina on Tuesday and put much of the blame for coordination failures on Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco and New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin. "My biggest mistake was not recognizing by Saturday that Louisiana was dysfunctional," two days before the storm hit, Brown told a special congressional panel set up by House Republican leaders to investigate the catastrophe.

DON'T LET THEM EAT CAKE.

I have a problem with people on TV. Whenever there is a scene with a cake in it one of two things happens. Some one will fall face first into it, or EVERYONE WILL COMPLETELY IGNORE IT. I hate these people. Why waste time yakking about meaningless crap when you could be eating cake? This, I think goes back to first grade. The entire class was invited to my best friend Susie's birthday party. We all brought gifts and watched her open them, except me, I was looking at the huge Winnie the Pooh sheet cake on the kitchen table, our reward for not rolling our eyes, farting or picking our nose while watching another child open presents for approximately 12 HOURS!!. Finally, the time had come, "happybirthdaytoyouhappybirthdaytoyou" cut the freakin' cake all ready "happybirthdaytoyou!"
But Susie had other ideas. As her mother cut the first piece little Susie started crying "No! you can't cut Winnie the Pooh!"
So, Winnie went into the freezer to die a more humane death, and nobody got any cake.
33 years later, and Susie's crime against all that is decent and right haunts me to this day.
She should have killed the bear for the good of the people.
And just for the record, anybody who falls face first into my cake has to buy me a new one.

PUT DOWN THE STOVE AND I'LL GIVE YOU A NICE BANANA

Chris and I purchased all our appliances at a certain large home improvement store, the one with a 'W' in the name. The first time we bought there because we didn't know anything about this whole new house washer,dryer, fridge thing. The second time (last week) because they were the only store that had what I wanted. Both times we had stuff delivered. All I can say is, I want to see the pool of undiluted weirdness they get their delivery guys from. Somebody needs to go there with a camera and film them in their natural environment. In talking with the sales people I got the destinct impression they draw a bold line between themselves and the delivery guys. Last week the salesman kept calling them "delivery monkeys". "Oh NO! We won't let the delivery monkeys touch the gas feed or do any wiring. We only allow them to put stuff in the truck, & take it out again." Do you have hardwood floors? I'll make sure the delivery monkeys put down a protective pad before they bring anything in."
OK......needless to say, we didn't have the right wiring, the delivery monkey laughed at me and told me I should send the stove back and get a different one. I didn't want a different one. I also did not want to be laughed at by a delivery monkey....again.
Three years ago the same store delivered a washer and dryer, this delivery monkey was a surfer dude on steroids. He also tried to talk us into trading things in for something else stating that the sales person who helped us had "some serious anger management issues." OK....then he asked us if we would be "christening" the new house anytime soon while making a suggestive eye brow/smirk face. OK.........later that day we went to back to the store to pick up a towel rack or something, and who should be walking down the bathroom fixture isle? Surfer Monkey!!
"DUUUDE!" Are you replacing that cause you guys broke it "christening" your new bathroom?"
OK..........

ARE WE REALLY THAT STUPID?

Found this in Yahoo today. Apparently they are out of names for hurricanes. and they are actually worried about it. I see two problems here, 1) you can buy 'name your baby" books for five bucks at Barnes and Noble 2) please tell me the National Weather Association has better things to worry about right now. HURRICANE FATIGUE? If you can come up with that kind of marketing bullshit, you can think up a few names. I don't think any one will be confused if there's another hurricane that starts with the letter 'K'. Really, I have a criminally low opinion of peoples intelligence, and I think it'll be ok. The number idea? Good idea! Use it, who cares?
Let me help you, QUINN, UMA, XENA, YOLANDA, ZARAH. Want men's names? QUINCY, ULMER or UB (yes, its an actual name) XERSES, XANDER, YAPHET, ZEUS.
Shhheeesh.
Here's the story.
MIAMI - Hurricane Alpha? Tropical Storm Epsilon? Before this year is out, TV forecasters and coastal residents may have to break out their Greek dictionaries if the Atlantic hurricane season keeps up its frantic pace.
There are only four names left for tropical storms and hurricanes this year: Stan, Tammy, Vince and Wilma. After that, names switch to the 24 letters of the Greek alphabet: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta and so on through Omega, if needed.
That has never happened before in roughly 60 years of regularly named Atlantic storms.
"If we get up into that league, we'll have issues larger than naming these storms," said Frank Lepore, spokesman for the
National Hurricane Center National Hurricane Center in Miami. "The new phrase will be hurricane fatigue. Let's coin that right now."
So far this season, there have been 17 named storms. Forecasters expect a total of 18 to 21 when the six-month season ends Nov. 30. But with conditions in the atmosphere and Atlantic ripe for storm development, there could be more.
Currently, there are six separate 21-name lists and each of them is used every six years in a rotation. They don't include names that begin with q, u, x, y and z because there aren't enough names starting with those letters.
Only once, since record-keeping began in 1851, have there been 21 tropical storms and hurricanes in the Atlantic. That was in 1933 when forecasters didn't regularly name storms.
What's more, a storm name is retired if it causes widespread damage and deaths. So if there is a deadly Hurricane Alpha, what is it replaced with when it's retired?
"It will go to the Swahili alphabet or something else," joked Jim Lushine, severe weather expert at the
National Weather Service National Weather Service in Miami.
Actually, when old names are retired, new names have to be drafted in to a database maintained specifically for Atlantic Ocean storms, said Mark Oliver, spokesman for the
World Meteorological Organization Meteorological Organization in Geneva, Switzerland, which maintains the database.
"There's certain specifications which they have to meet," Oliver said. "They have to be fairly easily remembered, they've got to be in alphabetical order."
Other regions take a different approach. In Asia, storms may be given names of people, but also of flowers or other non-human beings, Oliver said. Japan does not participate in this system, preferring instead to number each storm chronologically starting anew each year.
For several hundred years, damaging hurricanes were named after the saint's day when the storm hit. For example, there was Hurricane Santa Ana which hit Puerto Rico on July 26, 1825. According to the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, there are saint's days for about a third to a half of all days.
Then, Australian meteorologist Clement Wragge began giving women's names to tropical storms before the end of the 19th century, according to the National Weather Service.
During World War II, storm naming became more common, especially among Air Force and Navy meteorologists who tracked storms over the Pacific Ocean, the weather service said.
From 1950 to 1952, the United States named storms by a phonetic alphabet, starting with Able, Baker and Charlie. That became confusing because the same names were used each year, so female names were used starting in 1953 in a list created by the National Hurricane Center. The first one was called Tropical Storm Alice.
That was considered biased against women, so men's names were added in 1978 in the Pacific and a year later in the Atlantic, with Hurricane Bob.
___

RETAILS OF THE CITY

Ahhhh the public. Thank you for my vericose veins, bad nail beds, twitchy eye, and molars with a chewing surface ground down so smooth you could ice skate on them. Maybe for my split ends too, I'm not sure yet. Those of you that work in the service industry know this special feeling for your fellow man. You just want to grab them, and squeeze them, and pinch their little cheeks 'till their head pops off then yell "NEXT!!"
But I digress....
Not only did I work in the jewelry industry, I've also been a phone rep for 2 different banks.
People will say shit to you over the phone they would never say in person. They know you're not allowed to hang up on them. What they don't know is there's usually a mute button, and while they're spewing verbal wank at some poorly paid service rep, said rep may be out getting coffee or farting into the speaker.
Thought I'd share couple of choice comments heard by me and others over the years:
"If I write a check and post date it for 2 weeks from now you guys will hang onto it right? "
"This is America, you've got no right to return my checks just because there's no money in my account!"
" But it's only 200.00 over the limit, can't you just extend my credit temporarily?"
" I saw on 20/20 last night that the internet isn't safe so I'm taking all my money out of the bank unless you can explain to me how computers work right now over the phone.., can you hold, that's my other line."
"Why is my account number at the bottom of my checks? That's dangerous! I want checks with no account number on them!"

Split ends, definately your fault.

OK, I LIED.

I'm a huge spaz. I like comments. They're back on. No more anonymous though. If you're gonna call me a twat, leave your name. No more mystery twatters. OOOOOH a new word, 'twatters' I like that!

WHERE DO PLASTIC BABIES COME FROM?

Seeing ones doctor can be highly educational. Especially when you're left alone in an examination room, well, when I'M left alone in an examination room. My doctor likes to talk with her patients, a good thing in this day and age, but often she's behind schedule. This left me a few minutes to look around at the lifesized plastic models of the female reproductive system, knee joints, and sinuses. The sinus one had clear plastic cards that each represented a different nasal disease or discharge, mmmmmm polyps.
Who makes this stuff? (not the discharge, the models.) I want to know where this factory is. Do they give tours? Do they have a gift shop full of 'I heart polyps' t-shirts and plastic uterus key chains?
It's off to the internet for me!! Only 94 shopping days left 'till Christmas.

UGLY AMERICANS, or IF I DON'T POST THIS, THE TOURISTS HAVE WON

Working retail in an area populated with tourists is one of the levels of hell. I don't know from religion, so ask a priest or something. I'm pretty sure you'll they'll be able to tell you exactly which level, and how many puppies you have to kick to get there. Many people leave their brains and manners at home when they go on vacation, and I was a professional puppy kicker in a past life. There's many tales to tell.
In 2 sales jobs (both selling jewelry) over 7 years, here are a couple of highlights :
A family of 3, Dad is clearly in the military, hair cut to steel toe boots, or possibly just naturally violent with bad fashion sense. The daughter was a cute little girl about age 2 or so, Mom, a woman with a nervous facial tick and a hushed voice, and a humongus dog clearly chosen by Dad because it looked ferocious and slobbery, it could have eaten me for breakfast and had the little girl for dessert.
As Mom walks up to the counter to look at some jewelry , it quickly becomes clear Dad doesn't get how to behave outside of boot camp. After a couple of minutes of having to be quiet he starts kick boxing with the dog, or more accurately, AT the dog, missing his face by an inch or so each time. (Hmmm, he's got my old job!) Being appropriately appalled at this, even though the dog was suprisingly calm, really he just looked bored with the man, we asked him to stop. He did. He started kicking at the little girl, missing her face by about an inch each time. Mom twitched and ignored everything except to to look at me and shrug in a "What can I do? He wanted a boy." kind of way.
Suprisingly, the little girl reacted much the same way the dog did, like he did this routinely to both of them and she was bored with it.
He was asked to stop this and they all left the store. I hope the dog ate him.

One of the stores I worked for was on the waterfront with a lovely view of the benches and garbage cans outside. Parents frequently could be seen giving their little ones popcorn or pieces of food to feed seagulls that swarmed everywhere. One day a co-worker and I watched as a little boy threw his napkin into the water instead of food, he toddled back to his father, who then gave him the wrapper off his cheese burger, which also went into the Sound. Back and forth this went 2 more times, WHEE!!!! IT'S FUN TO THROW GARBAGE! WHEE!!! VACATION IS FUN!!!! I left the shop, stomped towards the man and told him this wasn't his private garbage can and he should know better, and what did he think he was doing anyway!!!
Blink, Blink, no repsonse. I waited. Blink Blink. Nothing. The little one hadn't thrown anything a a couple of minutes, so, thinking I'd saved the environment single handed I marched back into the store to accept the congratulations of my peers. Except they were just shaking their heads at me and pointing at the little boy, who's father was handing him more garbage.
I had customers to work with, and at some point father and son left my little world a scummier place than when they got there.

and the moral of the story is.....when you make your list of things to pack, don't forget your brain, I'll help you, B-R-A-I-N.

NO IMAGINATION

Second nasty comment, though gynecological, was not terribly clever.
In considering what I would do if these little gems started rolling in, I cast my mind back to the days when I met Chris. He and his roommates, Rich and Christian, produced The Movie Geek Show on Public Access cable TV. In spending alot of time with them, I got to answer phones, learn to run cameras, and even be ON camera a couple of times. We had a blast! SOOOO much fun. With one exception, young, foolish boys that they were, The Movie Geeks left themselves WIDE OPEN by asking viewers to call in with comments and having a message line set up at their house for additional abuse. That's what they got 99 percent of the time. Abuse. Dozens of Bevis and Butthead scholarship winners yelling "FAGGOTS! " or asking the timeless question, "uhhhhhh, are you guys fags? huhuhuuuuuh."
Scintillating and brilliant as it was, how much of that 'anonymous' crap could they listen to? Too much, and eventually, they stopped taking the messages at all. The show was supposed to be about THEM, not some tiny brained, big mouthed morons who, against all odds, had learned to dial a phone.
My blog is fun for me, and it is going to stay that way. For now, I'll nip this in the bud, I'm shutting off comments for awhile, my friends know my e-mail address and can say what ever they please as THEY will have the balls to leave their names.
What kind of Bitch-Twat am I? The kind that knows not to take comments from a tiny brained, big mouth moron and make them a part of my life.

I AM EVERY BITCH

I just got my first nasty comment, (deleted it). Thanks 'Anonymous'! It was attached to the previous post. What kind of bitch am I? Hmmmm....anybody want to answer that one? If you could be any kind of bitch in the world, what kind of bitch would you be?

POETRY

This was blatently and shamefully taken by me from the book of bus poetry Metro puts on the inside of their busses. This is by far my favorite.

LOVE HURTS
LIKE A LEPRECHAUN DANCING
WITH A LITTLE MATCH
SINGEING THE LITTLE HAIRS
THAT LINE THE INSIDE WALL
OF YOUR HEART

Written by Alice Bettencourt, Shorecrest High School, 11th grade.

MISPLACED IN A PAPERWORK ERROR??

Taken from YAHOO.

NEWARK, N.J. - Three mice infected with the bacteria responsible for bubonic plague apparently disappeared from a laboratory about two weeks ago, and authorities launched a search though health experts said there was scant public risk.
The mice were unaccounted-for at the Public Health Research Institute, which is on the campus of the University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey and conducts bioterrorism research for the federal government.
Federal official said the mice may never be accounted for. Among other things, the rodents may have been stolen, eaten by other lab animals or just misplaced in a paperwork error.
If the mice got outside the lab, they would have already died from the disease, state Health Commissioner Fred Jacobs said.
The possibility of theft prompted the institute to interrogate two dozen of its employees and conduct lie detector tests, The Star-Ledger of Newark reported Thursday.
The FBI said it was investigating. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is also investigating, the newspaper reported.
University officials did not immediately return a call seeking comment Thursday morning.
The mice were injected as part of an inoculation and vaccination experiment, investigators said.
Health officials say 10 to 20 people in the United States contract plague each year, usually through infected fleas or rodents. It can be treated with antibiotics, but about one in seven U.S. cases is fatal. Bubonic plague is not contagious, but left untreated it can transform into pneumonic plague, which can be spread from person to person.
The incident came as federal authorities investigate possible corruption in the school's finances. The FBI is reviewing political donations and millions of dollars in no-bid contracts awarded to politically connected firms.

GUMMY

Gum Update:
Stitches removed, mostly, pain subsiding, only have to wear plastic retainer like thing while eating, and no more using the gacky antibacterial prescription mouth rinse.
Dentist just needs to "lift the gum tissue" and do grafting on about 3 more teeth. aaaaag.

RAMBLING ON LIKE AN OLD PERSON

In a couple of weeks I'm going to be 40. I tried to think of things that rhyme with forty, and came up with the ever popular lordy, as in lordy! lordy! Angie's 40, and the not so popular sporty.
Hoardy, boardy, gourdy, fjordy, Morty, warty....
This is all beside the point, I am old, and what are we going to do about that?
Hmmmmm. I could have plastic surgery to get rid of my jowls and stomach. I could go on an all grapefruit diet, botox, hair weave, full body wax, acid peel, colon hydrotherapy, have my legs lengthened, my eyes lifted, and get my colors done.
Better yet, I could eat an entire cake and then go shopping for new clothes.
Same thing.

I'M SO HIP I GOT NO BUTT

It's only taken me 7 years to get around to it, I just read the Bridget Jones books. I resisted for so long because of Renee Zel-a-whoozits "weight gain" and the corrseponding tabloid bullshit recounting her bravely adding dressing to her salads to gain that ugly 5 lbs.
Ah, such noble sacrifice for ones art.
Ok, the movies were cute, but I LIKED the books! Very funny, even a "Smug Married" like myself can appreciate the trials and tribulations of Bridget.
Why there hasn't been more press calling George Bush a "Fuckwit" I'll never know, it ought to be his official title. ( that's MR. Fuckwit to you ) everything the man says is "fuckwittage". It just works.

I look forward to more installments and more books, and yes, even the next movie.
And Renee Zeegenheimer looked healthy dammit.

MOUTHMOUTHMOUTH

PAIN! FUUUUUUHHHHHCK. All weekend the 6 teeth with gratftings hurt like someone is scraping the nerve endings with cold metal. I have concluded this is what Hitler is being paid minimum wage to do in hell. Now you know, the former leader of the nazi party is, at this moment, in charge of scraping the exposed roots of my teeth with an aluminum spork. Welcome to the underworld.
Thankfully, my friend Lee brought me Codeine, my Mom gave me some extra Vicodin, and I got my prescription renewed! Along with a new one for an antibiotic of some sort.

I shall now get very high on pain medication and watch Little House on the Prairie. Mary's goin' blind!

LOVELY, FUZZY BRAIN

Down to last Vicodin.....will miss them so. My face still hurts, and I like flooping about all giggly. Almost like a vacation. Except in my mouth.

DENTAL DAMN

I usually don't like to preface my writing with apologies or explanation, but this time's different.
I must start out by stating that I really do love my dad! So does my husband, We do. Very much, in fact.
I do not, however, love two of the things I inherited from the man. Bad skin and baaaaaaad, bad teeth.
Dad used to entertain us kids by telling the tale, almost a sea shanty really, or perhaps a script for a b grade war film....anyway, he'd tell about when he turned 21, had all his teeth pulled, ate a bologna sandwich and joined the army all on the same day. Then he'd take out his dentures and pretend he was grandma... really funny then, really spooky now.
In talking with my husband about the gum grafting surgery I was having the next morning, I recounted my dental war stories, 8 teeth pulled, 2 root canals, braces for three years, fillings in all but 3 teeth, one crown, and one gold tooth...and as of yesterday, gum grafting.
"Holy crap, why haven't you kicked your dad in the balls?"
"I would, but his teeth would fly out and hit me in the face."

Time for me to put ice on my mouth and take another pain pill.

SO I KNOW THIS GUY WHO WORKS FOR THIS PLACE...

Given the potential for blogs to get people fired, all names have been changed to protect the innocent. If you know Bob please be nice and don't use his real name in your comments.
This is a spooky story about the P.C. Police. The P.C. Police steal all your yummy Halloween treats and leave you turds. Turds that don't stink, but turds nonetheless.
I know this guy, call him Bob, he works for this company, call it BIG. Bob designs products. BIG asked Bob to design a product with a Halloween theme. "GREAT!" said Bob, brain-storming with friends and collegues on the variety of scary, spooky, images they could use.
When Bob returned with his ideas. BIG, without thought or consideration for his creativity or hard work, called the PC POLICE. Bob was officially forbidden to use the following images, for the following reasons:

witches, offensive to Wiccans.
zombies, ghosts, mummies, skulls, skeletons etc.. offensive to those sensitive to issues surrounding death.
movie monsters, copyright issues.
black cats, represent superstition ( my guess is this has something to do with condoning belief...?)

Whats left? Pumpkins, leaves, and candy corn.
Unless, of course you're from the Candy Corn Coalition, or the Society for the Preservation of the Memory of our Fallen Leaves.
This bullshit has nothing to do with who's going to be offended and everything to do with who could sue. Witches and ghosts are pussies compared to lawyers.

SICK OF IT

I have been sick for 3 months now. At the end of May I came down with what I thought was a nasty cold. Two weeks later a doctor told me I had pneumonia. Now, in September, I'm still fighting my lungs for air and coughing violently enough to pull most of the muscles in my back and blow a vein in my ass causing me to bleed scarily into the toilet. I have days where getting out of bed takes a fight, and a simple trip to the store or a walk around the neighborhood wears me out completely. I can't breathe in air conditioning and drinking anything cold makes my airway contract ( what fun this summer has been.) None of the painting or gardening we'd planned got done this year. I'm seeing my doctor for the 5th time in 3 months, though my chest x-rays 2 months ago showed nothing unusual (?!?) , I'm on 2 inhalers, allergy meds, 2 nose sprays, expectorants, expensive vitamin b-complex& iron pills for my energy levels, vitamin shots that are big enough to enoculate a rhinocerous, herbal drops to help heal the lung tissue, Prevacid for the nasty acid reflux all the coughing has given me, homeopathic remedies, and acupuncture.
I am a tough broad, but I cried today from the frustration. I really don't think I can take much more of this and come out of it ok. I see my personality changing, I have no concentration any more. My at home studies in gemology have been set aside completely. I forget what I've just read by the time I get to the questions. I blew 3 interviews with Blue Nile jewelry, who knows what I said to them. Worse than any of this, Chris is being affected negatively. He loves me as much as I love him, and can only be patient with me. I would have lost my patience with me LONG AGO. It makes me want to punch holes in the walls because I can't make up for this, or apologise. Short of having a witch doctor sacrifice animals and spit gasoline at me, I'm doing everything I can to get well.
My mom has been sick constantly for decades. She is no longer the same person, her original personality has been chewed away as she struggles constantly to get healthy. I know also, the effect this has had on me. I cannot, will not go there with my marriage and friendships.
All I can ask is that people continue to be patient with me and sometimes for me. If I'm being a bitch for god sakes tell me and we'll duke it out.
and thank you.

A FEW TILES SHORT OF A BATHROOM

Having a blog may just be what I need to tolerate the human race.....
Starbucks, early afternoon, getting tickets for Bumbershoot. Ahead of us in line is a somewhat frumpy, grizzled, middle aged woman yelling at the baristas behind the counter. I was mesmersied by the choice between donuts and scones so I missed the start of all this. I tuned in at " THIS IS SEXIST!! I FOUGHT FOR MY COUNTRY!! YOU LOCK THE WOMENS RESTROOM BUT THE MENS IS WIDE OPEN!!!! IT'S SEXIST THATS WHAT IT IS! I'M NEVER COMING HERE AGAIN!!
She pushed past us and out the door presumably to buy hormone replacement drugs or a stronger nicotine patch.
On our way out we saw her in the parking lot with a number of other women who also looked like they'd been riding Harleys behind gravel trucks with no face protection.
Crazy people make my blog go round.

BLOODY WELL RIGHT

Ok, I've done the boob post, now it's time to talk about my monthlies.
One thing I can say for sure, mentstruation has helped me to unlock my inner bitchitudiousness..each month I am better at it than the month before. If there were medals given for Synchronized Snatchiness I'd win gold! I could bitch for my country.
This hot flash, crank-a-thon is a recent thing and, as I careen toward forty there's no end in sight. I'm riding a giant maxi pad to OLD.
Reminders of this have come to my attention going through this site www.mum.org .
Go to 'links' at the end of the list and open every thing! Where else can you see the Norwegian Menstruation exhibit ( see a hand made maxi pad! Knitted. Out of yarn. Guess a scarf was too much trouble.) Also, the History of European Underpants is a link not to be missed. If you like that kind of thing. Lots of old, very funny ads for everything a woman needs to protect herself from the tyranny of her own vagina.
MUM actually had a copy of the book my mom gave me, along with a box of pads and a short but fairly informative ( what I remember anyway) talk about my period. The book was in the form of a diary. Much like the heroine in the Judy Blume book, she had just moved and was waiting for her period to get the change of address. All around the edge of the pages were these great illustrations of pink and orange daisies with faces, so very groovy! The daisy with the sad face illustrating moodiness and cramps is my favorite.
I lost track of this book many years ago, but never forgot it.
Upon finding it on MUM I actually cried. Not even from PMS, just blubbering over a very strange sense of nostalgia.
Then I opened the 'art' link to a painting of a woman from the waist down pulling a bloody tampon out of her crotch. And yes, women who painted pictures with their own menstrual blood. Fighting the urge to gouge out my eyes with a spork snapped me right out of my nostalgia.
Are you there god? It's me, Angie. When will I get MY menopause?

the news

Usually, the news is best in short controlled bursts. It's one of the things we as lazy Americans do best, ignore what bothers us. Some are worse than others and I fall firmly in the 'worse' catagory. Half the time I am just informed enough to say something stupid about whats going on in the world. I just read more about the hurricane. Holy crap, I can't imagine what that must be like, not only losing your home, your loved ones, pets, etc.. but your entire city.
Thankfully, all my friends and family are safely here. At the risk of sounding sappy, take a second and thank whatever you believe in for whatever you've got.
g'night.