Today, You get two blogs from me. But this I actually posted on fb 2 years ago. It’s when we first got Goliath. Sorry, the print is tiny and it’s done in one paragraph. But my IT person is at work. So, we will have to make due.

Hi! My name is Goliath. Today my silly owners thought they were going to take me on a walk. These 2 yahoos thought they were going to put a leash around my neck and expect me to just follow them like some trained monkey. Hey, I’m not the one with a fat ass. Why doesn’t the man put a leash on the woman and walk her instead. But oh no. I was the lucky winner. So, I. Played along. I went halfway down the driveway. Those 2 morons are whistling and clapping their hands and making smoochie sounds at me. Yelling my name. Geez, It was so embarrassing. I hope no one saw me. These two are definetly cramping my style. After awhile I got bored watching these 2 clowns. It’s not like I asked to go to the circus. So while they decided to continue their 2 man circus act. I decided to look for something to eat. I found some really yummy round things. Later I would find out those are called rocks. I only know that because the lady with the fat ass started freaking out. I swear her eyes started popping out of her head. She was telling me I couldn’t eat rock pebbles. Seriously lady? Do you hear me telling you what you can eat. So now I’m really annoyed. And these yahoos keep calling my name. Wanting me to walk next to them. Dude, I don’t even want to know you guys right now. Let alone be your walking buddy. Finally the old guy takes a hint and realizes this walk thing isn’t happeningng. So he picks me up and carries me to the end of the driveway. Where once again I’m expected to do what they want. Dad wanted to stage a photo of him struggling on walking me. Mom couldn’t see with the sun. Then, she couldnt find the right button. So, 20 pictures later we finally got this one. I hope they don’t expect me to do this every morning. If so I want a disguise. My parents are mental. I need a nap. Training humans is exhausting!

Yesterday, was basically a shitty day! It was like someone put a shot of 100 proof Bitch into my coffee(and my husband is off the suspect list because I know damn well he doesn’t like dealing with me when I’m on a bitch bender)! And you know what? I”ll own up to it. On a scale of 1 to 10. I would have been a 13. Like if they were giving out the “Biggest Bitch” trophy. I would have won hands down. I escalated into this Bitchzilla because I was acting like a 2 year old. I was pissed because I was in pain and couldn’t get seen by the dentist when I wanted to. So, Self meet Meltdown. Meltdown meet self! Basically I should have known better to be out in public when in this condition. Because it’s not like I’m throwing sunshine and rainbows at people. More like middle fingers and profanity.

Well, my son needed a ride downtown. I hate driving in that area. It’s like playing dodgeball with pedestrians. It’s the only place where people make their own cross walks. And even the people standing at the cross walks don’t know what it means when the little person is white or orange. To them both colors mean you can cross! And the courthouse is down there. So, it’s like most of them have that “Hit me and I’ll sue you” mentality. And if thats not enough to get my anxiety up. You also have to deal with cars turning here and there, pulling out of parking spots, and some of the streets being one way only. That’s why when I do have to go down there. I park my happy ass in a parking garage. And I sat in that parking garage until my son was done. Then, my plan was to pay the parking attendant and get the hell out of there! Such a simple plan. How ever did it go wrong?

I’ll tell you how it went wrong. It went wrong because I don’t carry cash. Somehow I picked the only parking garage that doesn’t take debit cards. The one my daughter and I were at last month did. The fucking parking meters in the street do! But not this one. I didn’t realize Fred Flintstone now managed parking garages. Imagine my surprise when I handed the attendant my ticket and debit card. And he tells me, “I’m sorry we only take cash or checks?” Are you frickin kidding me right now? Who doesn’t take debit cards. I was hoping the guy was messing with me. Like somebody from Punked was going to jump out. But nope this guy was as serious as a heart attack. Who the hell carries Checkbooks in this day and age besides my sister in law(but thats a whole other story. Love you Cindy)? So, I searched my jeep and my purse and found a whopping 14 cents. I owed a dollar. So, I tried to clear my resting bitch face when I told the guy, “I only have 14 cents what I am suppose to do if you won’t take debit?” Really in my head I was thinking I owe you a dollar! A dollar! Can’t you let it slide this one time? I was also contemplating how much damage the little gate would do to my jeep if I just gunned it. Hey, I didn’t say I was rational in my moments of panic. Unfortunately, this troll took his job very seriously. And there would be no one passing his “bridge” on his watch. Well, you know what happens at the end of the story Mr. Troll? Your ass gets handed to you by a billy goat! Sadly, I married a Billy but he’s not a goat.

But in this story round 1 went to the goat. He took my son’s cell phone as ransom until we came back with the dollar. Did I mention I hate driving downtown? So, now I’m on a quest to find a damn convince store to get cash. My son knows where one is but him and I argue about it. He wants me to park in the street. I don’t want to see how good my insurance is. Because I suck at reversing. Reversing onto oncoming traffic and jaywalkers was not something I was prepared to take on. Then, He wanted me to park in the “one way” alley. Which according to him doesn’t count. Well, finally my son got fed up with me and told me to just drop him off;circle around , then come back around for him. Sounded like a pretty good plan. Till after I dropped him off and starting driving around and forgot where I left him. Then, when I called him and he didn’t answer I remembered that his phone was being held hostage!

Luckily, I found him. Of course, when I picked him up I noticed he had nothing in his hand. Normally you can’t get cash back unless you purchase something. That’s where he tells me they don’t do cash back. So, he had to use the ATM and it charged a $3 fee. Shut the front door? I just paid a $3 service fee so I can pay a god damn $1 parking fee? This can’t be my life. Of course, since I was on the crazy train all ready. I bitched to my son the whole way back to the garage that I should have just put him on the street corner with a sign. Would have gotten a dollar a whole lot faster and I wouldn’t have had to pay fees!

By this point, My nerves are shot. I’m pissed off at the world. And while having this “mini”nervous break down, I was able to rationalize why I needed McDonalds. Because apparently clogged arteries and weight gain are essential to brighten your day.Too bad that little slice of happiness was short lived!

I was on the freeway and got stuck behind some asshat going slow in the passing lane. Well, I got in to the right hand lane so I could pass him. While doing that I was shoving french fries in my mouth and cussing him out. Ya, that was a genius move. Because I choked. So, there I am coughing. Taking sips of my drink to get it down. I can’t stop coughing or catch my breath. The guy I was cussing out was probably, “Like that’s what you get!” Yes, apparently this driver had some kind of voodoo powers. All he had to do was think,”I hope she chokes on it!” And bam it happened!Wish I had those kind of powers! But if I’m going to die people,it sure the hell is not going to be from a French fry. I could see it now, “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about your Wife. How did she die?”. And then my husband would say, ” McDonald’s killed her”! And I doubt that man could even keep a straight face when he told ppl. that. If I die it’s because I stopped a bank robbery or a bear from eating a troop of girl’s scouts. Not because of no damn potato!

I tell you I was never so happy to be home. It actually made me pause from my bitchiness for 2 whole minutes. But that was short lived because I cranked it back up. And my husband was only home for half an hour before he couldn’t take it anymore. He told me, “Your acting like a psychopath!”. Or was it psycho? Does it really matter. My mood eventually got better. Like after 5 p.m. when the dentist office finally called to tell me I could go in tomorrow to get my tooth pulled. Thank God! I was just about to solicit Tom Hanks on social media for tips.

The point of the story is…there is none. I just wanted someone to feel sorry for me. But basically you probably just want to throw a bottle of Midol at me, send my husband a lifetime membership to beer club of the month, and shake the hand of the troll who didn’t let me get out of paying him. Well, if you are going to be like that at least send me my Bitch of the day trophy!

****photo credit to makeameme.org

It’s funny how normally I am sane( my husband is going to read this and do the eye roll) but then I get a good old toothache sprinkled with some severe menstrual cramps and now I’m like a category 5 hurricane. Even the dogs are keeping their distance from me!

I’m pacing the house talking to myself. The neighbors are probably popping their popcorn get ready for the great finale. Because even they know I’m one episode away from being the star of a Snapped episode.

If you didn’t read my ramblings from yesterday. I’ll give you a quick recap . Have a bad tooth. Was trying to save it. Got referred to a specialist. But his cost of saving it was definitely not in my price bracket. Decided what’s one less tooth? Now, I’m waiting for the dentist to call me back to get this sucker pulled. Like a mouth exorcism…”Be gone Satan!”

So, that’s where I am now. But unfortunately pain makes any kind of rational thinking obsolete. If I was a good patient I would have waited for them to call me. Like they said they would. Or give them to Thursday like they asked. But in a moment of temporary insanity I decided to make harassing dentist receptionists a new hobby. That’s right I’ve lost all self respect. I waited an hour after I knew they opened and then called them. But do you think I could sound like a rational person? Hell no! I sounded like a deranged person! I was like I know you were going to call me but I don’t understand why you have to wait for the “specialist’s” opinion. Because I’m not going with their”could have went on a trip instead” root canal. I’m getting my tooth pulled! And I needed this sucker pulled like yesterday. I can not wait till tomorrow for you guys to let me know that you finally heard back. Because you guys aren’t opened Friday. And I can not wait till next week to get this pulled or I’ll will be crazy from the pain! And yes William(my husband who is thinking ya right you said that) I told her I would be crazy if I had to wait till next week!

Apparently crazy is the magic word. Either that or she was calling the Police when she had me on hold. But she did tell me they wouldn’t wait for their email. That she would call the office so they could that report faster. Because they didn’t want me to go through the weekend in pain either. She’s obviously well trained in talking down crazy people. I wonder if they go through some kind of special training on how to deal with irrational people. I might ask to sign up because when I convert back to being a Normal human being I could use this training for my job!

So, it’s been 149 minutes since I hung up with her. Not that I’m counting minutes. Because that would just be insane. I’ve checked the ringer on my phone at least a half a dozen times. It’s on in case you were wondering. And I’m trying to hold off to using that medicine for toothache pain. Yes, it works. But dear god does it burn. My lips usually look like Ronald McDonald’s the time I’m done. I don’t know what’s worse… tooth pain or feeling like someone shoved a handful of cinnamon fireballs in your mouth then duck taped it so you couldn’t spit them out.

If I survive this ordeal I will write a book titled, “You should always listen to your dentist first” and ” How not to act like a rambling psychopath”. In the meantime I will wait for my phone to ring. And hope they get me in today!!!! Otherwise I’m scheduling a hair appointment before I show up on the 5 o’clock news.

Not my typical blog of a long drawn out story. Just my thoughts firing off in my mind. Scary right? This is also dedicated to my brother in law Gato. Who is a dentist. And probably has to deal with my kind of stupid on a daily basis

When your at the dentist office and they announce someone’s name. It’s funny how no one wants to respond. Everyone is like,” Nope not me! “. Bet your ass if you were at the DMV everyone would want to be Carol!

Water and music is not relaxing me. I only want to pee or do karaoke. Please make it stop?

It’s not really reassuring when they take you to the room in the very back of the office. Like are you planning on me screaming really loud? Or is this where you take the “special” patients who ignore the dentist’s original advice.

“Can you open your mouth any wider?” “Wow! Your mouth is small!”All I can think is sorry I’m not a hooker!

They were trying to get that thing in my mouth to do an X-ray. In my defense she told me to bite down. Not my fault she didn’t move her finger. A little embarrassed because as a toddler I never bit anyone. Oops! Makes sense why they are trying to pawn me off to a “specialist” now. Get labeled as a biter and it’s game over for you!

When they say you have to go to see a specialist first. And you look at them like what the hell are you? Obviously not the Endodontics. What the hell kind of name is that? I never finished the Harry Potter books because I couldn’t pronounce the character’s name? Now, you want to send me to some shady person who “specializes” in torture? And then you tell me I’m going there because they are going to use a microscope to determine how my tooth is cracked! WTF lady?You were just telling me how small my mouth was as you struggled to get an X-ray. Now, you want to stick a damn microscope in it? Are you for real. Should I have complimented your hair when I met you?You better write me a prescription for anxiety while your at it!

At first they weren’t sure how quickly they could get me in to see the “specialist”. So, I asked the dental assistant what do I do for pain in the meantime? “Alternate Tylenol and Motrin. It’s works better than narcotics and they aren’t addicting?” Are you shitting me right now? What part of pain aren’t you understanding? I am okay with becoming crackhead bob for a few days. Dentist comes to talk to me and tells me the same thing. Alternate Tylenol and Motrin for pain.Your not a dentist are you? You are a sadist! And I just want to thank all the people who had to go and get addicted to pain pills. You screwed it for the rest of us who know how to read directions!

When they told me they still might find that the tooth can’t be saved.What? OMG! My worse nightmare is coming true. I’m going to be toothless. I’m sorry I didn’t get a crown right when you told me! But please don’t make me look like I starred in Deliverance. Fuck it! You mind as just mind as we’ll play banjo music when you give people this kind of news. My life is over! I’ll never be able to smile again!

I never thought I would actually be begging for a root canal. But here I am! Begging for them to give the green light for me to get tortured. Because let’s face it! No one understands my speech anyways. You take another tooth away and I’m going to need a translator. I’ll sound like Mr. Busy the beaver from Lady and the tramp.

I’m actually quite proud of my parents. They are getting better adapting to new technology. Which is quite an improvement from when I was younger. I mean I love my parents but they kept us in the “Dark Ages” growing up. A lot of my friends had a computer(the old bulky looking ones).And we had the type writer. For you lucky shits who are too young to know what that was. Let me explain it to you. There was no delete button or spell check.If you screwed up. You took your paper out. Slathered it up with white out. Waited for that shit to dry. Then, you had to line the paper perfectly up to where you left off before you could start typing again. And that was the short version. If you didn’t want to go through all that ,you had to start all over. Like retyping everything. Basically the type writer taught you patience.

When I was in high school everyone else had CD players in their homes. But not the Williamson’s! We had the decked out stero system with a cassette player, record player, and drum roll please. An 8 track player! That’s right folks. I actually had a friend ask me once, “What is that?” I was like it’s an 8 track player duh! Tried to play it off like only the really cool people owned them. But then she said, “Oh, right! I think my grandmother has one of those in her attic” Well, Carol I guess your Grandma is as cool as us then!

Let me tell you it was good fucking year when we traded the bulky t.v. with rabbit ears for one with a remote control. I thought that was the best invention ever. Do you know who the remote control was before that? You guessed it…Yours truly and my little sister. It’s no wonder why I stayed skinny in my youth. With a tri-level home of stairs; a father who liked changing channels, childhood obesity was not an option!

Now, that my sister and I are grown. They have definitely caught up with the times. We’re talking my dad checks his Facebook app on his smart phone(that’s right not a flip phone ppl.) more than me. They even just got a GPS for their truck. My mom was super excited! I mean she gave me the whole spill on what it could do. HELLO. Makers of these devices my mom could totally do sales for you. I realize the rest of the country now uses their phones for this feature. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her that.

Besides, it’s no wonder why my mom is so excited to have that. Because she has spent the last 45-46 years of her life with a man who doesn’t stop and ask for directions. I mean the last couple of years they have gotten by with map quest. But before that my dad would rather waste time driving around than stopping at a gas station(back in those days kids they had these cool little things called maps! You opened that sucker up and if you could figure out what the hell all the lines stood for. You would find your destination). My dad is like one of those bad ass Clint Eastwood guys. He was a green beret in the Army and was over in Vietnam. So, I guess in his mind. If he could find his way through a jungle with only a compass. He sure the hell can find his way around different states.

The funny thing is the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. As much as I laugh at my parents. I now know how my kids feel about me. I mean I had to have my daughter set my blog up. Then, sent her like 50 questions the next day when I was trying to finish it up. I couldn’t even figure out how to share the link to my page at first. I had to have the brother in law set up my phone to my Jeep. I still haven’t figured out how to play a movie in my husband’s PS4. And God forbid I ever trade my jeep in and have to get a newer vehicle with the rear video camera. That shit confuses me. Like Don’t put that kind of pressure on me to stay in between the lines! I just hope my kids will have more patience with me. I’ll admit I once try to teach my mom how to write an email. And ran out of patience and acquired a drinking problem.

So, this to all the Flintstones out there. Or to the kids who are stuck bringing them up to speed with things. Just remember this is why Liquor stores were invented.

***photo credit to deposit photos

Growing up I always liked to do things the hard way. So, my dad would say I was Stupid Stubborn! I remember a time when I did a half ass on the kitchen. So, of course when he sent me back to fix it. I had to mouth off. And because of that he sentenced me to another day. Most people would take the day and shut their damn mouth. But not this girl. Oh, hell no. I turned it into an auction war. I was raising the bids to days, weeks, and months. Every time He raised it I had the “thank you sir can I have another” attitude. My mom was in the background yelling at me to shut up but I was on a roll. I was going to win. And win I did. I won the honor of doing dishes for a year. My sister was elated. The day got marked on the calendar and I didn’t get off for good behavior. That is one thing I learned about my dad. He did not take any shit!

So, as you can see I always have to do things the hard way. And right now I’m paying the price for that. In November I went to the dentist. He told me I needed a cavity to be filled and a crown on another tooth. Well, I after I saw what it was going to cost I decided I was going to put it off. Because obviously I knew more than my dentist who went to school for 8 years of his life! But I was adamant about waiting because Christmas was around the corner. And I didn’t want to tell the kids and grandkids,”Sorry we didn’t get you anything for Christmas. But look at this brand new crown I got! And so that you can see where your money went I took a picture of my tooth and framed it for you. Your welcome!” I think not! That’s something Cousin Eddie from the National Lampoon movies would do. But not this girl!

Well, that thought process has proven to be idiotic. Instead it taking care of the problem. I’m mentally swearing like a sailor right now. I’m at work so I can share my colorful vocabulary. It’s so bad I’m contemplating on pushing my patients bed to Walgreens with me. Technically, I would still be sitting with them. And it’s only a couple of blocks away. I realize I would probably more in likely get kidnapping charges on me. But at this point that doesn’t sound too bad. As long as I make it to Walgreens first and get some of that numbing shit!

The moral to this story is it doesn’t always pay to be stupid stubborn. Unless you love experiencing pain and groveling to dentists. If that’s the case carry on! Carry on!

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***Don’t know who I give credit to for this future picture of me!

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Sometimes when I open my mouth, my MOTHER comes out….
author Unknown

Life obviously has a wicked sense of humor. For I’m sure every single one of us ;swore on our childhood,that we would never turn into our mother! That it would be a cold day in hell before you used the following phrases on your offspring…

-“If your friends ran down the street naked would you do it too(seeing that I grew up in Colorado and didn’t want to get frostbite on my ass. The answer was obviously always NO)?”

-“You better eat your dinner! There are starving children in Africa that would be grateful for it(First of all, have you ever been to Africa? And second of all if they tasted your cooking they might choose to starve too)!”

-“I’m going to knock you into next week and when you wake up your clothes will be out of style(Okay, my mom never said this but my dad did. No, he wasn’t abusive like this. But I thought this was a good line)!”

I’m sure by now you get the point. But something else I inherited from my mother was anxiety. Now, for years I have denied it. But after last night’s adventure I can no longer pretend I don’t have it. I had witnesses to my melt down(a.k.a. my kids). Before I unload that wonderful episode with you let me give you a little family history lesson. You see my mom’s side of family is wonderful. I am very lucky! The only problem with the women in our family is that we don’t inherit big boobs(well okay maybe I’m the only one that got skipped over) but you sure in the hell inherit huge anxiety problems. Ya, totally won in the genetic lottery(this is written in sarcasm). Like being flat chested, cross-eyed(that’s finally fixed but did make talking to people fun. Like they never knew what eye to focus on) with a speech problem(S’s make me sound like Kaa from the frickin Jungle book) and now it looks like anxiety is going to get thrown in the mix. Yea Me!

So, last night I was going to skip out on my sister’s day party. I know I’m a schmuck! But in my defense it was snowing. And even though I’ve lived in Colorado for most of my life. I hate driving in the shit. But after my daughter guilted me I decided she was right! I couldn’t miss it. So, time we left was when there’s heavy traffic on the interstate. So, being the natural genius I am. I decided we would take the back roads. Because my dad took them earlier and they were clear. That was my first mistake. Going by a 4 hour old weather report from my father. My next mistake was deciding to drive on roads that are the last to be plowed.

At first, I was fine. Roads were just wet. Snow was coming down. No big deal. But as our journey continued, the road looked like some Coke Head decided to decorate the pavement. I couldn’t see if I was even in my lane. At this point I’m starting to white knuckle it. If the steering wheel was a real person. It would have been dead at this point. I put it in 4 wheel drive. And that usually calms me down. But after the 2nd time I slid I lost my shit. I started yelling at my daughter for talking me into going. I’m cussing so much that if I was younger I would have had to eat the whole bar of Irish Spring soap. I’m threatening to turn around. But have no place to do it. Basically I have turned into the crazy lady having panic attack in the movie Airplane(if you are too young to know what I’m referring to look it up). I’m freaking out and I’m sure my kids are about ready to take turns slapping me! It was not a pretty sight people!

My kids had two choices…1.)knock me out like it’s a carjacking or 2.)treat this like a hostage situation and take me into pulling over. Luckily, they went with option 2. Of course, I’m sure they wish they had a pez dispenser filled with ativan to give me. Or duct tape. Because I did sound like my mother when I became a “back seat “driver. Not only that I had to be all dramatic. I was hanging on to the glove box. Because for some reason Jeep thought that was a better place to have an “OH, SHIT” bar! Actually, that was a really good idea on their part.

And to make matters worse I have a very active imagination. So, I’m thinking we are going to die! Or get in an accident! And if that happens. With my luck I’ll have so much head trauma that I’ll have to walk around with one of those damn helmets on my head. And I was also thinking about how my mother always taught us to carry a pair of clean underwear in our purse in case we get in an accident. Which of course I never do. Because I just don’t get the reasoning behind that. First of all, if I’m stuck in my jeep after my accident. I’m not going to hurry up and change my panties so that the whole fire department doesn’t see that I shit myself. If that happens I’m sure that will be the least of my worries. And it’s not like they you get to wear them when you get to the hospital. I work at a frickin hospital. The only thing we give you to wear is the “look my ass is hanging out” gown. And if patients do request some kind of panties to wear(which I totally understand because I do not like to go commando either). I give them a pair of the Victoria Secret’s special edition of mesh panties. Which if you ever had kids you will totally know what these are. They are the uncomfortable fish net looking underwear from hell that were invented by a sadist.

Of course, since I’m convinced we are going to get an a accident all I can think about is that I’m going to have to stay in the hospital. But that doesn’t work with my schedule because I have to be back to work Sunday night. And why the hell didn’t I clean the house before I left. And what happens when I finally get discharged. Last time, I got discharged from a hospital my husband forgot to bring me clothes to go home into. I can’t have that again. But I can’t have him picking my out an outfit either. Because half the clothes in my closet don’t fit me. But he doesn’t know that. So, he’s going to bring me the jeans I can’t button or breathe in. And the blouse that sucks onto me like a jellyfish and shows all my fat rolls. I can’t be seen in public like that.

By now;as you can see, I’m freaking out about my invisible hospital stay instead of the roads. And then it hits me. Like a light bulb. But not one of those energy saving ones. But one of the old school “light up my life” bulbs. HOLY SHIT. I have anxiety problems. I’m tripping out about stuff out of my control. Stuff that might not even happen. But to me seems like a real possibility. Then, I think back to all the times I’ve made fun of my mom for stressing out about stupid shit(I know I’m a real asshole). And look at me? I’m one paper bag away from not breathing. I have officially become my mother! And there’s not enough alcohol in the world for there to be 2 of us. God help the men in our lives. And the women after us ,who swear never to become us.

*Till you get to know me. I want to make sure you know I joke about shit going on in my life. And that I love my parents. Even when I’m making fun of them. Because guess what? When after you become a parent. You realize they really weren’t sadists out to ruin your life. That everything was done in love. And they have no control over what genetics they hand to you. Guess it could be worse. Not sure how. But I know there’s a silver lining somewhere out there.

OOPS! In the great words of Urkel, “Did I do that?”

Sadly, I can’t stop laughing. Does that make me a bad person? I just sat down to write my official story of the day. And then this happened. And I must admit I’m still giggling as I type this.

Before I share why this is so funny. Because let’s face it most of you are like I don’t get it. Let me start from the beginning. To the good old days when I still had bleach privileges. I use to like bleach but for some reason it doesn’t share the same sentiments with me. If you ask me I would have to say it was out to personally sabotage my domestic skills. And you know what? It won.I lost my privileges because laundry kept coming out like this. Long story short.I don’t keep bleach in the house. Only CLEANING (pay attention to this word. It will be important later) supplies with bleach in it.

So, when my husband came in from work and I noticed this. My first response was, “Oh, god! Please tell me that you seriously did not wear this to work?” I realize he doesn’t showcase his clothing choices for long(thank god for that because I have met homeless people with better style). Luckily, he changes into scrubs. But he was still walking around the hospital. The same one; I might add, that I work at. Looking like this!!!! Co-workers are going to start a gofundme account for him to get me classes on how to do laundry and cook! I mean seriously who does that? Most people would just keep this in “The not to be seen in public. Like ever!” pile. But not my husband! And William I really hope someone calls Stacy London and Clinton Kelly on your ass! Because you are in serious need of a “What not to wear” intervention! I don’t have time to be waking up at the ass crack of Dawn to make sure you don’t go out looking like that. And I know this sounds rich coming from someone that lives in her pajamas. But do I go out in them? Hell No! Leave that shit to the legit/hardcore Walmart shoppers!

When the initial shock of his 1980’s acid wash look passed(and in reality that I could stop laughing and taking pictures of it). I asked how the hell this happened. Because as you know I don’t keep bleach in our laundry room! He tells me how some idiot had bleach in the spray bottle. And he thought it was water. So, he sprayed his hoodie and stuck it in the dryer to “freshen” it up. And might I add that I might not have a college degree(like the hubby) but I do know what the Steam Refresh button on the dryer does. Just saying. Not judging!

So, let me get this straight. Some idiot(meaning me) put bleach in a spray bottle in the cupboard that only holds cleaning supplies? Because it made sense to you that I would keep water in a bottle with the CLEANING(there’s that word again ppl.) supplies. Do we have house plants that I don’t know about? Because after the tragic death of the plant your mom gave me. I only keep plants that need to be dusted. Not watered. So, I know we don’t have a water bottle for that. Or do you think I keep it there so that right before you get home I “mist” myself to make it look like I was hard at work. When you and I both know I was just laying on my ass and reading a book. First of all, I don’t understand why you would assume it was water. And second of all How the fuck did you not notice it wasn’t bleach. After the first spray. You should have smelled that shit! But not my little over achiever husband. Oh, no he just had to get trigger happy and spray the shit out half of it! If there was a smack my head icon I would be hitting that several times right now!

Now, I will admit where I was at fault. I should have wrote the word “bathroom cleaner” on the bottle. I threw the original bottle away. Because when it was empty I forgot I had the Costco Economy “you will never run out of bathroom cleaner”refill bottle in the closet. And that is all I’m fessing up to at this time. If you want any more confessions I want to use my right to have an attorney present.

So, for all you single people this is a daily glimpse into married life. Where you sign a disclosure that you will never hold your spouse responsible for ruining your clothes. Or laughing hysterically at you. That it’s perfectly acceptable for them to take embarassing pictures of you(even ones you don’t know about. Because your back is turned). And there’s nothing you can do about it. Because you signed the contract. The one where said clause was obviously written in invisible ink. They say there’s a sucker born every minute or was it getting married every minute? My poor hubby. If you want to want to join his support group “I married a bitch” they meet at the local bar on Sunday nights.( I forget most ppl. don’t know my sense of humor yet. So, no my husband doesn’t hang out at the bar. But he might start).

Since this is my very first maiden voyage into the world of writing. I decided to expand on the “about me” section that I conveniently tried to skip.  To be fair I will give you a 5 minute head start to grab the alcohol and tylenol. Your going to need it.

  The words “about me” always give me flashbacks to elementary school. When I was a new kid. And had to share with the class who I was. Do you really think I knew at the age of 8 who I was. At 43 I’m still trying to figure that out.

  To add to my childhood trauma I noticed you can’t escape this kind of humiliation as an adult. But it’s in the form of “new hire” orientation. Instead of just showing up and having your new employer basically blow smoke up your ass about how great their company is. They had to go and change the whole experience. By making you get up and share something about yourself. At my last place of employment I had to do it two times. And speak into a microphone. WTF? I was there because I like doing what I do. And they happen to pay for that. And seeing that I’m an adult. I discovered that paychecks are pivotal to survival. So, I go to these things so I can start collecting my “bread and butter”. Not to feel like I am a contestant on the dating game. Because if I was to be perfectly honest. I wouldn’t even date myself. So, on a side note. If you are a HR person in charge of these things. Here’s a hint. No one wants to get up and talk about themself(that is a lie there are some people that never shut up about themselves) and no one cares what everyone else is sharing. I’m usually planning what I’m going to make for dinner while my co-workers drown on and on about how much “experience they have.  And did I mention I can’t cook. So, you see how helpful these exercises are.

  WOW! I basically wrote a book to explain how I despise the about me sections. If you haven’t figured out. I’m like the old Comcast commercials where the turtle says, “We have a real talker over here”. Or as my husband likes to tell me…”stop circling the airport and land the plane”. Meaning get to the fucking point already!

  I’m a 43 year old woman who wears many masks. You could ask several people who I am and they would all have a different response. My husband would probably say I am the person that makes him pray he will wake up deaf. Did I mention he’s an atheist? My kids would probably define me as the “prison warden of their youth”. On a good note they are all grown and out on parole. I’m also a Nonnie. I hate the word “Grandma”. That is an old person that wears polyester pants with elastic waist bands. I’m just overweight and trying to fit in my old jeans. My co-workers see me as “Crazy Kari”. A person who should not be allowed access to caffeine. And my patients probably see me as someone that might be really funny. Or maybe thats just the large doses of narcotics they are on right now. See, I am many things.

  As mentioned above I am married. I met my husband in 2005 and we got married a year later. A decision he has probably regretted every day since. But all I have to say is, “Too late buddy. You already signed on the dotted line”. I really don’t know what people mean when they say, “happily married”. Sounds like one of those filtered snapchat pictures if you ask me. Don’t get me wrong. My husband is my best friend. I love that man more than I thought was possible. I know how lucky I am to have him. I was married before. And that might have given me 3 great kids. But it almost made me want to become a nun afterwards. And I’m not even Catholic. So, that shot that idea down. But my husband is the light in my darkest moments and my buoy when the waves of life are trying to drown me. He makes me feel loved everyday.Not just by not words but actions. And at the same time. As much as I want to hug the man to death. There are times where I want to yell at him like a banshee. Jump on him like a spider monkey and squeeze the ever loving shit out of him. And not in the “I love you” way. More in the if I had a frying pan on me I would knock some sense into you. To me this is marriage. The good. The bad. And all the moments in between.

  The nice thing about marriage is you get extra kids without the stretch marks. I have 3 and he has 2. They range from the age of 31 to 19. As you can see we finally crossed the finish line of raising them. The time where you are like we made it! We survived raising kids. And didn’t end up with matching straight jackets. Exotic islands and Pina Coladas here we come!!And then we got a GSD puppy. Then another one. And will you look at that? They had puppies. Let’s just keep one from the litter. So, we can make sure the whole fence and backyard gets successfully destroyed.. Ya, we are those kind of crazy people. So, we have 3 dogs from 3 years old to 1. Which is really like having a room full of hopped up toddlers on a sugar high. Don’t know what the hell we were thinking. Oh, yes I do! We weren’t.

  And with all these kids. We have already have lots of grandkids. Some of our kids obviously fell asleep when they explained how babies were made. We had 10. But my oldest daughter got remarried last year. So,We got 3 more. So, basically we are building a small army. But it’s all good. Because it’s family that makes life more complete. OR is it more crazy? I can’t remember. 

  I work in healthcare. Which is a very rewarding job. But can also make you want to start to drink. But that’s the cool thing about my job. When you clock in . You never know if this will be the day that you decide standing on a street corner with your misspelled cardboard sign would be a better career choice. This job keeps me on my toes while my other body parts fall apart. Can you say I need a new back. Why does only Mr. Potato Head come with spare parts?

  Well, if you haven’t fallen asleep or started drinking after reading this. I have achieved miracle status. I will be blogging about anything and everything. For years people have encouraged me to do this. Maybe, they were just tired of my “long” posts showing up on their social media feeds. Who knows. But here I am. A woman who has worn a blindfold most of her life. I have tripped, fallen, and at times got stuck in what smelled an awful lot like shit. But you know what? I’ve always gotten back up. And maybe my next steps on this journey were a little slower or hesitant. But I took them and I still do. So, join me on my road to sanity. And be those directions I ask for. As I will be those directions for you in return. As long you remember that I am geographically challenged. So, I’ll probably have you wondering in a desert for 40 years. But I’ll be right there with you. Probably complaining about how thirsty I am. And that there’s sand up my ass crack. But the point is that we will be in this together.