Monday.
Never having been one of those people to bemoan Mondays, I now view it with dread.
This passed Monday, I got up and ready for work like usual. Having checked the weather, I was surprised to see the high for the day was supposed to be 82 degrees. Knowing it's usually a few degrees warmer than they say, I planned for 85 and decided to dig out my favorite summer dress; the $10 consignment dress.
Rushing off to my car, I realize, "It may be 85 later but it sure isn't that warm at 6am!" and then glance down to see I didn't wear my lacy white tank top under the dress. It was a little lower than I normally show but I don't have time to run back inside: ehh, I'll just pull it up a little.
I get my mocha frappe and off to work I go.
Only 2 patients into my schedule and then it happens.
FASHION FAUX PAS!
While placing some large heating pads on the table for a patient, *Doink* oh no! I realize the strap on my dress had ripped! The sweetheart neckline now flopped over on the right side and exposed half my bra! And it wasn't even a cute one, it was a maternity bra! *good grief*
Thankfully, my patient was standing behind me and didn't see. My mind is racing, "What do I do!! How do I hide this!! Quick, tuck it in your bra and pull the sweater a little closer!" I think I managed to get out of there pretty quickly without him noticing a thing.
So I call the massage therapist freaking out! She says, "Ok ok, I'll bring you a needle and thread and some safety pins." *Phew! Thank God! Wait! You're not gonna be here for another couple hours! OH NO!*
So I spend the next couple hours with my dress partially tucked into my bra and doing an awkward arm gesture thing to sort of hide it which I'm sure only made it more obvious. *Slap forehead here*
While I wait, I head to the back kitchen and eat my 3 hardboiled eggs for breakfast.
She shows up a little later bearing gifts and here I am, in the back therapy room where patients don't go, with the top of the dress around my waist, bra exposed, attempting to stitch the strap bc it was frayed. *God PLEASE just give me 10 solid minutes without any patients and no phone calls!*
I finally get the stupid thing stitched and now I'm struggling to figure out how to sew it back to the actual dress part, while it's still on my body, of course. Just then, I hear my boss exit an exam room, saying goodbye to a patient. *Oh God, what do I do?!* "Uhh, Dr. Nunno! I need some help in here!!" I'm sure I definitely sounded a bit frantic. She pokes her head around the corner and bless her heart, she didn't say a word about seeing her employee, bra exposed with a needle in one hand and dress in the other. With eyebrows raised, she says, "I'll be right there." and then turns to the patient saying, "Cristine needs a moment. She'll be right there."
So there we are. My boss is now helping me sew the strap back but the needle is too thick. She's grabbing it with her teeth and pulling it through. *Thank God I have a very good relationship with her. LOL*
"I'm just gonna do a quick stitch." "Just get me through the next hour, we are SOOO busy! Just get me through!" LOL It was makeshift but I was still thankful for it and I continued about the rest of my morning…
Until about 11:30am when I doubled over in pain! I had the most intense stomach cramps! I couldn't tell if I was going to poop or puke!
Yeah, so remember those eggs?? Turns out they were left out overnight. My husband had asked someone (who he thought was a reliable source), if they were still good. This person said, "Oh yeah, they're fine as long as they're cooked. It's raw eggs you don't want to leave out."
WRONG.
For the next 2 hours, I proceeded to have the worst, most explosive diarrhea ever. The massage therapist said I wasn't even pale, I was grey.
By 1:30-2pm, I was feeling better and continuing my day when all of a sudden, *DOINK* the strap gives out while I'm checking out a patient! Flap falls forward and exposes half my bra again. *How embarrassing*
The massage therapist helps me to jerry rig the flap part to my bra strap with a safety pin. *Ah, finally, at peace!* I was able to go about the rest of the day.
I decided to go get some organic ingredients to make myself cajun chicken pasta. Good ol' comfort food will fix this stressful day, for sure.
WRONG.
While shopping in this ritzy organic food store, I keep noticing all the rich, snobby people there.
Doo Dee Doo Dee Doo, what the heck am I doing here, I am CLEARLY not their caliber. And there, in the checkout line full of brain surgeons, NASA scientists, and Reality TV stars… the pin pops out and stabs me right in the boob! I start to twitch almost uncontrollably and am trying to play this off cool. Soooo did not happen. Everyone stared and my insides are screaming, "JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!!"
Driving home, I'm practically shouting internally, "JUST GET ME THE FRIGG HOME!"
Laden with bags, stomping up to my condo in the drizzle rain, the door is locked. HUGE pet peeve of mine. You see I'm not home, leave the door unlocked for me bc chances are, I'm gonna have a ton of bags. So, there I struggle to open the door and finally get it.
Right then, my husband rounds the corner, "Hey Babe. How was your day?" Two steps in the door, I drop every single bag, *DOINK* just as the left strap gives out and the whole top to my dress falls down, completely exposing the maternity bra.
I rip the dress off right then and there, with a barbaric scream that would have rivaled that of the Middle Ages, throw it away from myself and stomp into the kitchen. I proceeded to make my cajun chicken pasta standing there in a granny bra and slip and let me tell you, IT FELT GOOD!!!
Showing posts with label piss hole. Show all posts
Showing posts with label piss hole. Show all posts
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Inability To Hold It In Public
It never ceases to amaze me that I had a baby 15 months ago and I still can't hold it when I have to go to the bathroom! You'd think I was still pregnant or something! -.- Last Sunday was a prime example.
Prelude:
My little Lorenzo has been refusing sleep. He won't go to sleep until 9-11pm and wakes up screaming (like he's had a nightmare) between 3-5am. This particular early Sunday morning was no different. He screamed from 3-5am and didn't fall asleep until about 5:30am. Our alarm was going off by 8am for church. We had one service at 10am due to our Friend Day Picnic. We were still late because I refused to get out of bed. Hey, I was the only one who dealt with him that morning! I deserved to get some sleep, too! Needless to say, my husband dragged me out of bed, threatening to embarrass me to everyone at church. We made it to church, albeit 20 minutes late.
After church on Sunday, we went to the church picnic. I was starving and had to do the juggling act of taking turns eating and watching Lorenzo. It's no fun taking him anywhere anymore. NOT. A. SINGLE. SHRED. OF. FUN. Just sayin'.
When it was my turn to eat, I stuffed myself full of a hot dog, numerous amounts of chips and taco dip, salad, potato salad, and pasta salad. It's funny to see how people make the same dishes WAY differently. I was so full, I couldn't even eat any cookies or cupcakes.
It was a stressful few hours of attempting to keep my kid from crawling on concrete, eating sticks and dirt, and watching him teeter precariously on the verge of smashing his 6 teeth on the ground! This is all while my husband is off playing baseball, basketball, and tennis, of course. -.- When I finally got a hold of my husband, we attempted to leave early to catch the end of an Old Car Show. Love me some vintage cars. Oh the nostalgia! I swear, I'm born in the wrong era. Most of the cars had left because there was only about a half hour left of the show and Lorenzo had just fallen asleep. It wasn't worth the risk of waking him up and dealing with his crabby patty butt afterwards so we left.
On the way home, I decided to make my weekly stop at my favorite consignment shop. It's this quaint little cottage in the middle of a busy shopping and business area. Anthony decided to wait in the car while little Prince Whines A-Lot slept.
I made my way in and saw the owner for the first time, a pretty young woman just a few years older than myself. Normally on Sundays, I see her boyfriend working there. I say hi and chat a minute or two with her and then ask about the Superyard XT extensions gates out front. Once I haggle a lower price, I tell her I want it and will proceed with my browsing. She's very agreeable and right as she's nodding her agreement, I feel IT. That horrible, lowering sensation when you feel all the contents of your stomach drop right into your bowel. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I had to poop and I just walked into the store.
I calmly walk to the dresses and whip them from one of the rack to the other as I keep telling myself, "I can hold it, I can hold it, I can hold it." I really couldn't and I think my movements were becoming jerky as a result.
I walk to the other side of the little cottage to the skirt and tops and find about 8 different items I like. I have to try them on because I don't want to buy them and find they don't fit. I walk over to her to ask for the fitting room to be opened and I assume "The Stance." You know, legs together, feet in a V, butt cheeks clenched as tight as possible. The fitting room isn't an actual room. It's the curtains drawn kind. Once I get the curtains closed, I pray she's gone, and rip my clothes off to try these clothes on as fast as possible. There's no bathroom in this place! If there was, I couldn't use it because I'd stink it right up and she'd know it was me! This consignment shop sells high end designer brands like Burberry, Dolce and Gabbana, and Louis Vuitton! I can't poop in this place! It's bad enough I'm polluting the air!!
By this time, I've got the raunchy farts because I'm so close to going! I'm praying she doesn't come anywhere near the fitting rooms! The sulphuric fumes were enough to singe your eyebrows! I barely get a skirt and a top on and rip them off, throwing on my clothes. I barely made it out with my fly zipped!
I awkwardly walk to the checkout desk and tell her, "I'm so sorry, I had to leave my stuff in the fitting room. My phone is buzzing off the hook, I think my husband wants to go because the baby is fussing." I'm praying to God she doesn't notice that I've broken out in cold sweats! I tell her, "I'm gonna have to come back another time because I really liked those items and would like to try them on. I'll get this skirt and top but I'll have to leave the gate extensions for another time, as well." She looks oh so surprised and says she needs to come out to the car with me because she already had Anthony load it into the car!
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
I pay and follow her out to the car, waddling quite awkwardly behind her. Anthony is looking up from the car, giving me the strangest expression. I tell him to give the gate back, that I'd get it another time, and he says, "Why?" FOR GOODNESS SAKE! Don't question me NOW! Just go with whatever I say!! By now, Pretty Consignment Owner is looking back and forth between us because she knew something was up. "Anthony, I'll just come back another time. I thought you didn't want the gate and you said Lorenzo was fussing." We all look at Lorenzo who is sitting calmly in his seat, sucking his 2 fingers, and he chooses that exact moment to smile at us. COME ON, KID NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE SOME NOISE!! Anthony gives the gate back and looks just as confused as Pretty Consignment Owner.
Once she walked back, I jump into the car and start shouting, "TAKE ME TO WAL-MART NOW!! GO, GO, GO!! I'VE GOTTA GO!!!!!" Anthony is so confused, "What? Are you ok?" I'm clutching the door, cold sweats all over my face, turning a little pale, "JUST GO!! I'VE GOT TO POOP!! HURRY!! I'M GONNA POOP MY PANTS!!!" Leaving the cottage house, we had to cross 4 lanes to go to
Wal-Mart and Anthony's waiting for a break in traffic. I'm yelling, "GO, GO, GO! YOU CAN MAKE IT!! JUST CUT ACROSS IN FRONT OF THESE PEOPLE!!! HURRY UP!! IT'S COMING, IT'S COMING!! "
We finally get into the parking lot and Anthony is giving me directions to the bathroom because this Wal-Mart doesn't have the bathrooms right when you walk in. I'm shouting for him to drop me off at the door and then shouting "THIS ISN'T CLOSE ENOUGH!!" All the while Anthony says, "Jeez, you stink."
Once I get to the door, I run out of the car and into the store, weaving in and out of people and their carts, all the while praying to God that the stall would be clean! I bust into the bathroom, seeing I'm the only one in there, and race to a stall, unzipping all the way. I barely had time to rip my skirt down and throw myself onto the seat. Thank God, I made it!! Right before a ton of women walked in, too.
I wash my hands and calmly leave the store. Once in the car, Anthony kept asking if I was alright. He thought I was sick with a stomach bug or something. Very non-chalantly, "No, I just had to poop." He looks at me incredulously, "What?! That's IT??!! I thought you were dying or something! Well, do you want to go back to the consignment shop then?" "NOOOOOOOO!! She'll definitely think I'm weird then! And I'm not telling her I had to leave to poop!!"
Prelude:
My little Lorenzo has been refusing sleep. He won't go to sleep until 9-11pm and wakes up screaming (like he's had a nightmare) between 3-5am. This particular early Sunday morning was no different. He screamed from 3-5am and didn't fall asleep until about 5:30am. Our alarm was going off by 8am for church. We had one service at 10am due to our Friend Day Picnic. We were still late because I refused to get out of bed. Hey, I was the only one who dealt with him that morning! I deserved to get some sleep, too! Needless to say, my husband dragged me out of bed, threatening to embarrass me to everyone at church. We made it to church, albeit 20 minutes late.
After church on Sunday, we went to the church picnic. I was starving and had to do the juggling act of taking turns eating and watching Lorenzo. It's no fun taking him anywhere anymore. NOT. A. SINGLE. SHRED. OF. FUN. Just sayin'.
When it was my turn to eat, I stuffed myself full of a hot dog, numerous amounts of chips and taco dip, salad, potato salad, and pasta salad. It's funny to see how people make the same dishes WAY differently. I was so full, I couldn't even eat any cookies or cupcakes.
It was a stressful few hours of attempting to keep my kid from crawling on concrete, eating sticks and dirt, and watching him teeter precariously on the verge of smashing his 6 teeth on the ground! This is all while my husband is off playing baseball, basketball, and tennis, of course. -.- When I finally got a hold of my husband, we attempted to leave early to catch the end of an Old Car Show. Love me some vintage cars. Oh the nostalgia! I swear, I'm born in the wrong era. Most of the cars had left because there was only about a half hour left of the show and Lorenzo had just fallen asleep. It wasn't worth the risk of waking him up and dealing with his crabby patty butt afterwards so we left.
On the way home, I decided to make my weekly stop at my favorite consignment shop. It's this quaint little cottage in the middle of a busy shopping and business area. Anthony decided to wait in the car while little Prince Whines A-Lot slept.
I made my way in and saw the owner for the first time, a pretty young woman just a few years older than myself. Normally on Sundays, I see her boyfriend working there. I say hi and chat a minute or two with her and then ask about the Superyard XT extensions gates out front. Once I haggle a lower price, I tell her I want it and will proceed with my browsing. She's very agreeable and right as she's nodding her agreement, I feel IT. That horrible, lowering sensation when you feel all the contents of your stomach drop right into your bowel. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I had to poop and I just walked into the store.
I calmly walk to the dresses and whip them from one of the rack to the other as I keep telling myself, "I can hold it, I can hold it, I can hold it." I really couldn't and I think my movements were becoming jerky as a result.
I walk to the other side of the little cottage to the skirt and tops and find about 8 different items I like. I have to try them on because I don't want to buy them and find they don't fit. I walk over to her to ask for the fitting room to be opened and I assume "The Stance." You know, legs together, feet in a V, butt cheeks clenched as tight as possible. The fitting room isn't an actual room. It's the curtains drawn kind. Once I get the curtains closed, I pray she's gone, and rip my clothes off to try these clothes on as fast as possible. There's no bathroom in this place! If there was, I couldn't use it because I'd stink it right up and she'd know it was me! This consignment shop sells high end designer brands like Burberry, Dolce and Gabbana, and Louis Vuitton! I can't poop in this place! It's bad enough I'm polluting the air!!
By this time, I've got the raunchy farts because I'm so close to going! I'm praying she doesn't come anywhere near the fitting rooms! The sulphuric fumes were enough to singe your eyebrows! I barely get a skirt and a top on and rip them off, throwing on my clothes. I barely made it out with my fly zipped!
I awkwardly walk to the checkout desk and tell her, "I'm so sorry, I had to leave my stuff in the fitting room. My phone is buzzing off the hook, I think my husband wants to go because the baby is fussing." I'm praying to God she doesn't notice that I've broken out in cold sweats! I tell her, "I'm gonna have to come back another time because I really liked those items and would like to try them on. I'll get this skirt and top but I'll have to leave the gate extensions for another time, as well." She looks oh so surprised and says she needs to come out to the car with me because she already had Anthony load it into the car!
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
I pay and follow her out to the car, waddling quite awkwardly behind her. Anthony is looking up from the car, giving me the strangest expression. I tell him to give the gate back, that I'd get it another time, and he says, "Why?" FOR GOODNESS SAKE! Don't question me NOW! Just go with whatever I say!! By now, Pretty Consignment Owner is looking back and forth between us because she knew something was up. "Anthony, I'll just come back another time. I thought you didn't want the gate and you said Lorenzo was fussing." We all look at Lorenzo who is sitting calmly in his seat, sucking his 2 fingers, and he chooses that exact moment to smile at us. COME ON, KID NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE SOME NOISE!! Anthony gives the gate back and looks just as confused as Pretty Consignment Owner.
Once she walked back, I jump into the car and start shouting, "TAKE ME TO WAL-MART NOW!! GO, GO, GO!! I'VE GOTTA GO!!!!!" Anthony is so confused, "What? Are you ok?" I'm clutching the door, cold sweats all over my face, turning a little pale, "JUST GO!! I'VE GOT TO POOP!! HURRY!! I'M GONNA POOP MY PANTS!!!" Leaving the cottage house, we had to cross 4 lanes to go to
Wal-Mart and Anthony's waiting for a break in traffic. I'm yelling, "GO, GO, GO! YOU CAN MAKE IT!! JUST CUT ACROSS IN FRONT OF THESE PEOPLE!!! HURRY UP!! IT'S COMING, IT'S COMING!! "
We finally get into the parking lot and Anthony is giving me directions to the bathroom because this Wal-Mart doesn't have the bathrooms right when you walk in. I'm shouting for him to drop me off at the door and then shouting "THIS ISN'T CLOSE ENOUGH!!" All the while Anthony says, "Jeez, you stink."
Once I get to the door, I run out of the car and into the store, weaving in and out of people and their carts, all the while praying to God that the stall would be clean! I bust into the bathroom, seeing I'm the only one in there, and race to a stall, unzipping all the way. I barely had time to rip my skirt down and throw myself onto the seat. Thank God, I made it!! Right before a ton of women walked in, too.
I wash my hands and calmly leave the store. Once in the car, Anthony kept asking if I was alright. He thought I was sick with a stomach bug or something. Very non-chalantly, "No, I just had to poop." He looks at me incredulously, "What?! That's IT??!! I thought you were dying or something! Well, do you want to go back to the consignment shop then?" "NOOOOOOOO!! She'll definitely think I'm weird then! And I'm not telling her I had to leave to poop!!"
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Birthday Party from Hell
My little baby has turned a year old as of April 9th, 2011! Where the heck a year has gone! In some ways, I feel as if I've made tremendous strides and in others, I find myself lacking quite a bit. In the great spectrum of time, a year is a second. So I've got many more "seconds" to keep trying.
Below is a description of the days preceding his 1st Birthday Party. I'm sure all you mommies out there can empathize greatly with me!
1 month before the party: Better send out a guest list email invite thing since I know I won't have time to hand write cute little invitations. Result: my husband CHANGED my guest list (including people I didn't know and even people I had no desire to come!), changed the time frame, changed the format and wording, and made it a dumb video invite thing that was sent out to everyone 15 times so it looked like SPAM!
3 weeks before the party: I'd better talk to my friend about helping me make a fondant cake because I'm making everything else... I'll need the help and he'll most likely want to do a practice run... Result: we had a ton of fun making homemade fondant and playing with the fun food dye! NOTE: homemade fondant is very difficult to stir by hand and unless you have a KitchenAid Mixer, you'll break a handheld. But it is so worth the effort!
2 weeks before the party: I'd better think about the menu... Eh, I'm an excellent party planner, I can whip this thing up in a couple days- I really don't have time to sit down and plan a menu and take inventory of the kitchen right now.
1 week before the party: I still have no idea how many people to expect since most didn't RSVP like they should have. NOTE: if you are invited to something, make sure you RSVP even if you aren't sure you're coming or not otherwise you'll look like THAT person to the host/ess. You know, that person you have to HOUND to get a response... the person you wish you just didn't invite because getting an answer was like pulling teeth and they said they'd come and didn't show!!
2 days before the party: it is Thursday night and I receive some unsettling news regarding the guest list and proceed to scream at my husband over who he freaking invited and whether or not I even WANTED that person or people invited!! It was supposed to be about 15-20 max with our core group of friends and possibly some additional co-workers of his. I intended to have a smaller get together with our church friends the next day after service because we live in a friggin condo and don't have room for the 40, yes I said, 40 FREAKING people he invited!! And not everyone was on the guest list to come at the same time. But what does he care: he wasn't the one cleaning for it, cooking for it, hosting it, bagging up left overs, and cleaning up the mess! *Insert rolling eyes face here* I went to bed completely upset, stressed out, anxious, and didn't even sleep!
1 day before the party: It is early Friday morning and I blatantly tell my boss that it is a high anxiety day for me today because of the people I did not anticipate. She felt bad for me and tried reassuring me. I work about 12 hours a day for 3 days a week at a chiropractor's office. It was a LONG day and I swear you'd think I had the jitters the whole day if you saw me. It was awful and I probably gave myself an ulcer!
Friday night, I get out late and decided to go to the grocery store to buy all the ingredients I needed. It is 9pm and I decided Big Y has the best pizza so I'll have dinner before shopping. After enjoying a delicious slice of sausage pizza, I order the pizza for the party tomorrow and start my trek through the store. I don't get very far since I have to pee like a racehorse. I knew I should've just gone before I left work but I thought I could wait til I get home. WRONG. I'm about to pee my pants, there's stuff in the cart, I can't take it in with me, so I grab my wallet, and book it to the potty. I HATE USING PUBLIC RESTROOMS! I burst into the only open stall in the two stall restroom and look at the toilet. Ok, there isn't anything yucky in it but I'm still not putting my porcelain butt on that thing! There isn't a self to stick my wallet on so I gingerly lay it on the toilet paper roll dispenser. I yank down my skirt and undies and attempt to hover over the toilet without losing my balance OR peeing on myself. Accomplished one, not so much on the other. While I didn't fall over or pee on myself, I didn't manage to make it all in the toilet. Gross, I know. So I am being a cleanly patron by wiping up the toilet seat for the next person.As I go to get more, I must have pulled too enthusiastically because in slow motion, I see my wallet... my gorgeous Vera Bradley black, white, and green Baroque wallet slide off the toilet and dunk into the nasty piss filled toilet!!! In slow motion, I yell, "Noooooooooooooooo!!!" and lunge forward but the wallet is out of my grasp! And you hear, "Plooooooooooooooooop!" as something big and heavy fell very quickly into the pot. The old woman next to me must've thought I was giving birth to a bowling ball or something. I have no idea what to do!! My beautiful wallet is sitting in the nasty piss hole, the crapper, the john, the deuce catcher. Every vile and disgusting nickname for the toilet is running through my mind. I call my husband and he doesn't answer. So I call my friend Jason, he's the one helping me with the cake.
Me: "Jason, I called Anthony but he didn't answer and I don't know what to do. I'm ok, it's not an emergency or anything but it kinda is to me.You can laugh at me tomorrow but don't laugh at me today, ok? I don't know what to do."
I bawl my eyes out to him IN THE PUBLIC RESTROOM with the grandma in the stall next to me listening to every juicy detail and my beautiful defiled wallet still floating in the toilet amidst urine and toilet paper.
Jason is a go to person when you freak out and can't think clearly. He has made a point to think before he speaks and is very sensitive to a woman's ever present roller coaster of emotions. He calmly instructs me to get the wallet out of the toilet and get the toilet paper off it and to rinse it thoroughly. After following all his instructions, I'm still crying to him about the woes of the freaking guest list and he promised to come over early to help me and to be my buffer for the day. Thank God! Note: no ladies, he's not gay, he's straight as an arrow, good looking, well dressed, funny, financially stable, one of the smartest men I know, sensitive, and SINGLE! Too good to be true right? Well, those myths about men like that have to be based off someone, right??
While all this is happening, Grandma comes out and is washing her hands in the sink next to mine, all the while blatantly staring at me with her mouth slightly agape. IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO HELP ME, THEN GET OUT!!!! That's what I was thinking. Of course, I'm still crying on the phone to Jason so I don't say any of this. Grandma leaves and in walks this young, hot, Miss Thang with her pretty strawberry blonde hair (which I'm SURE was fake!) and heels clicking. Jason asked me if I remembered to flush the toilet. I couldn't honestly remember. Maybe??? Horror struck me. Miss Thang just walked into the stall I used.... I wait... HA! I must have flushed but there must have been pee and toilet paper splatter everywhere still! TAKE THAT, Miss Thang! I really had no reason to wish an ill willed potty experience towards her but she's everything I'm not, at the moment: poised, well dressed, well put together, and well, let's face it: a young, hot thing. I got her good though... ;) *insert evil laugh here*
I dutifully put my sopping wet Vera Bradley wallet in a produce bag and finish checking out. Anthony calls me back as I'm mid-store. I tell him the whole sordid story and cry some more. Lucky for him, he doesn't respond right away. It's almost as if I can HEAR his brain thinking, "This is funny but do I laugh?? Probably not. She's crying right now and will kill me if I laugh at her drama... Ok, I'll play the comforting husband role instead and laugh at her tomorrow when she's not likely to hit me with something heavy that she purchased."
Intense stress reliever took over as the tears flowed. IN THE MIDDLE OF BIG Y... Great. I'm one of THOSE women. The ones that talk on the phone about their personal life in public and people around her can hear everything. And I'm an emotional one at that. Great. So I finish by saying I'd tell him when I'm home because Miss Thang walked passed my aisle. WHAT?! ARE YOU STALKING ME?!
I went to the bathroom so I could focus on what I was buying and stick to the budget... and I STILL went over budget. Screw this, hellooooo credit card! I was NOT about to go put anything back! Miss Thang ended up in my lane behind me a couple people, I mean, it IS after 10pm on a Friday night and they only have one lane open. Great, she probably thinks she can't get away from this nut job who bawls her eyes out in the public restroom! Of course, the cashier and rest of the people in line are looking at me weird because I have to dig a sopping wet wallet out of a produce bag and then have to PEEL the wet indistinguishable receipts off the credit card... Mortified.
And this was all preparing for the stupid party. This isn't even the story of how stressful it was preparing the day of and how I called Jason asking him to come even earlier. Oh boy.... thank God for good friends who put up with all your crap, LITERALLY! Pun fully intended.
Below is a description of the days preceding his 1st Birthday Party. I'm sure all you mommies out there can empathize greatly with me!
1 month before the party: Better send out a guest list email invite thing since I know I won't have time to hand write cute little invitations. Result: my husband CHANGED my guest list (including people I didn't know and even people I had no desire to come!), changed the time frame, changed the format and wording, and made it a dumb video invite thing that was sent out to everyone 15 times so it looked like SPAM!
3 weeks before the party: I'd better talk to my friend about helping me make a fondant cake because I'm making everything else... I'll need the help and he'll most likely want to do a practice run... Result: we had a ton of fun making homemade fondant and playing with the fun food dye! NOTE: homemade fondant is very difficult to stir by hand and unless you have a KitchenAid Mixer, you'll break a handheld. But it is so worth the effort!
2 weeks before the party: I'd better think about the menu... Eh, I'm an excellent party planner, I can whip this thing up in a couple days- I really don't have time to sit down and plan a menu and take inventory of the kitchen right now.
1 week before the party: I still have no idea how many people to expect since most didn't RSVP like they should have. NOTE: if you are invited to something, make sure you RSVP even if you aren't sure you're coming or not otherwise you'll look like THAT person to the host/ess. You know, that person you have to HOUND to get a response... the person you wish you just didn't invite because getting an answer was like pulling teeth and they said they'd come and didn't show!!
2 days before the party: it is Thursday night and I receive some unsettling news regarding the guest list and proceed to scream at my husband over who he freaking invited and whether or not I even WANTED that person or people invited!! It was supposed to be about 15-20 max with our core group of friends and possibly some additional co-workers of his. I intended to have a smaller get together with our church friends the next day after service because we live in a friggin condo and don't have room for the 40, yes I said, 40 FREAKING people he invited!! And not everyone was on the guest list to come at the same time. But what does he care: he wasn't the one cleaning for it, cooking for it, hosting it, bagging up left overs, and cleaning up the mess! *Insert rolling eyes face here* I went to bed completely upset, stressed out, anxious, and didn't even sleep!
1 day before the party: It is early Friday morning and I blatantly tell my boss that it is a high anxiety day for me today because of the people I did not anticipate. She felt bad for me and tried reassuring me. I work about 12 hours a day for 3 days a week at a chiropractor's office. It was a LONG day and I swear you'd think I had the jitters the whole day if you saw me. It was awful and I probably gave myself an ulcer!
Friday night, I get out late and decided to go to the grocery store to buy all the ingredients I needed. It is 9pm and I decided Big Y has the best pizza so I'll have dinner before shopping. After enjoying a delicious slice of sausage pizza, I order the pizza for the party tomorrow and start my trek through the store. I don't get very far since I have to pee like a racehorse. I knew I should've just gone before I left work but I thought I could wait til I get home. WRONG. I'm about to pee my pants, there's stuff in the cart, I can't take it in with me, so I grab my wallet, and book it to the potty. I HATE USING PUBLIC RESTROOMS! I burst into the only open stall in the two stall restroom and look at the toilet. Ok, there isn't anything yucky in it but I'm still not putting my porcelain butt on that thing! There isn't a self to stick my wallet on so I gingerly lay it on the toilet paper roll dispenser. I yank down my skirt and undies and attempt to hover over the toilet without losing my balance OR peeing on myself. Accomplished one, not so much on the other. While I didn't fall over or pee on myself, I didn't manage to make it all in the toilet. Gross, I know. So I am being a cleanly patron by wiping up the toilet seat for the next person.As I go to get more, I must have pulled too enthusiastically because in slow motion, I see my wallet... my gorgeous Vera Bradley black, white, and green Baroque wallet slide off the toilet and dunk into the nasty piss filled toilet!!! In slow motion, I yell, "Noooooooooooooooo!!!" and lunge forward but the wallet is out of my grasp! And you hear, "Plooooooooooooooooop!" as something big and heavy fell very quickly into the pot. The old woman next to me must've thought I was giving birth to a bowling ball or something. I have no idea what to do!! My beautiful wallet is sitting in the nasty piss hole, the crapper, the john, the deuce catcher. Every vile and disgusting nickname for the toilet is running through my mind. I call my husband and he doesn't answer. So I call my friend Jason, he's the one helping me with the cake.
Me: "Jason, I called Anthony but he didn't answer and I don't know what to do. I'm ok, it's not an emergency or anything but it kinda is to me.You can laugh at me tomorrow but don't laugh at me today, ok? I don't know what to do."
I bawl my eyes out to him IN THE PUBLIC RESTROOM with the grandma in the stall next to me listening to every juicy detail and my beautiful defiled wallet still floating in the toilet amidst urine and toilet paper.
Jason is a go to person when you freak out and can't think clearly. He has made a point to think before he speaks and is very sensitive to a woman's ever present roller coaster of emotions. He calmly instructs me to get the wallet out of the toilet and get the toilet paper off it and to rinse it thoroughly. After following all his instructions, I'm still crying to him about the woes of the freaking guest list and he promised to come over early to help me and to be my buffer for the day. Thank God! Note: no ladies, he's not gay, he's straight as an arrow, good looking, well dressed, funny, financially stable, one of the smartest men I know, sensitive, and SINGLE! Too good to be true right? Well, those myths about men like that have to be based off someone, right??
While all this is happening, Grandma comes out and is washing her hands in the sink next to mine, all the while blatantly staring at me with her mouth slightly agape. IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO HELP ME, THEN GET OUT!!!! That's what I was thinking. Of course, I'm still crying on the phone to Jason so I don't say any of this. Grandma leaves and in walks this young, hot, Miss Thang with her pretty strawberry blonde hair (which I'm SURE was fake!) and heels clicking. Jason asked me if I remembered to flush the toilet. I couldn't honestly remember. Maybe??? Horror struck me. Miss Thang just walked into the stall I used.... I wait... HA! I must have flushed but there must have been pee and toilet paper splatter everywhere still! TAKE THAT, Miss Thang! I really had no reason to wish an ill willed potty experience towards her but she's everything I'm not, at the moment: poised, well dressed, well put together, and well, let's face it: a young, hot thing. I got her good though... ;) *insert evil laugh here*
I dutifully put my sopping wet Vera Bradley wallet in a produce bag and finish checking out. Anthony calls me back as I'm mid-store. I tell him the whole sordid story and cry some more. Lucky for him, he doesn't respond right away. It's almost as if I can HEAR his brain thinking, "This is funny but do I laugh?? Probably not. She's crying right now and will kill me if I laugh at her drama... Ok, I'll play the comforting husband role instead and laugh at her tomorrow when she's not likely to hit me with something heavy that she purchased."
Intense stress reliever took over as the tears flowed. IN THE MIDDLE OF BIG Y... Great. I'm one of THOSE women. The ones that talk on the phone about their personal life in public and people around her can hear everything. And I'm an emotional one at that. Great. So I finish by saying I'd tell him when I'm home because Miss Thang walked passed my aisle. WHAT?! ARE YOU STALKING ME?!
I went to the bathroom so I could focus on what I was buying and stick to the budget... and I STILL went over budget. Screw this, hellooooo credit card! I was NOT about to go put anything back! Miss Thang ended up in my lane behind me a couple people, I mean, it IS after 10pm on a Friday night and they only have one lane open. Great, she probably thinks she can't get away from this nut job who bawls her eyes out in the public restroom! Of course, the cashier and rest of the people in line are looking at me weird because I have to dig a sopping wet wallet out of a produce bag and then have to PEEL the wet indistinguishable receipts off the credit card... Mortified.
And this was all preparing for the stupid party. This isn't even the story of how stressful it was preparing the day of and how I called Jason asking him to come even earlier. Oh boy.... thank God for good friends who put up with all your crap, LITERALLY! Pun fully intended.
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