debutaunt.com

From the Lovely Ms. Pants

Slow work day. My brain is too high to be creative.

40 questions meme in extended entry.

1)My uncle once: lived in a haunted house. They wrote a book about it.

2)Never in my life: will I own a home.

3)When I was five: I lived in Alaska and walked to school through snowy woods.

4)High School was: A suckbutt

5)I will never forget: my first with The Boy.

6)I once met: Lady Bird Johnson. She cursed and was funny.

7)There’s this girl I know who: has a crazy coworker that calls her all the time.

8 )Once, at a bar: I was hit on by a 22 year old.

9)By noon I’m usually: lethargic or hungry.

10)Last night: was oddly quiet. Zoe was at my sister's with my mom.

11)If I only had: a winning lottery ticket. I'd be mega happy.

12)Next time I go to church: I will sit near a restroom - for Zoe. Who usually has to go at least twice.

13)Terry Schiavo: is dead.

14)What worries me most: if I will be financially stable some day.

15)When I turn my head left, I see: wall

16)When I turn my head right, I see: Zoe's art work all over the other wall, like a gallery.

17)You know I’m lying when: I tell you my back doesn't hurt that bad.

18) What I miss most about the eighties: living at home & having mom cook.

19)If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I’d be: Juliette, because you all know I'm young and beautiful and clueless.

20)By this time next year: I might be dead.

21)A better name for me would be: Queen of the Universe. Hey! It says so on my checks.

22)I have a hard time understanding: why Republicans do anything.

23)If I ever go back to school I’ll: be getting my teaching certification.

24)You know I like you if: you make me laugh.

25)If I won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: my parents.

26)Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: Mozart.

27)Take my advice, never: use bleach on your shower while still in it.

28)My ideal breakfast is: migas and salsa.

29)A song I love, but do not have is: can't think of any.

30)If you visit my hometown, I suggest: you own a nice car because you'll be stuck in it forFUCKINGever.

31)Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: The fuck?

32)Why won’t people: stop searching on freaky things from my blog?

33)If you spend the night at my house: you're sleeping on the floor.

34)I’d stop my wedding for: if the right guy showed up to interrupt it.

35)The world could do without: Dubya. (ditto pants)

36)I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: marry a Republican.

37)My favorite blonde is: not a blonde.

38 ) Paper clips are more useful than: dense fog.

39) If I do anything well, it’s: write and give head, albeit not simultaneously. (see this is why I dig Ms. Pants)

40) And by the way: I'm still high as a motherfucker.

Yes. I'm Lame. But am I Alone?

I have zero interest in seeing "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" or the new Star Wars movie. (I've only seen the first one - maybe the 2nd one, I don't remember)

I never geeked over:
Any of the LOTR
Harry Potter
Any of the Matrix
Star Trek (old or new)
Buffy the Vampire Slayer

So am I the only one?

I'm so uncool, I feel like

Dunno. I just don't get the appeal.

Pleh

No more vacation time for Deb. I have officially used it all up. And my paycheck for next pay period will be short about 10 hours.

Yea. Motherfucker.

I think I will be talking to my supervisor about this.

I don't know if I can prove (or anyone for that fact) that the injury was caused by dipshit co-worker or if I did it at the ranch with the kiddos.

I don't know why this makes me so sad.

I wish I had more in my savings account.

That is all.

And I'm still high as a mofo on this vicodan.

MRI Results

Something you don't want to hear from your doctor:

"You have done some significant damage to your back."

It doesn't sound all that bad. I have now herniated 3 discs, but one is herniated 5 millimeters. Sounds so tiny.

But what that lovely bulging disc is doing is shifting the nerves in my spinal column to cause some serious pain.

5 Millimeters is also the start of when they'd consider surgery. Last time I did this, I had only herniated it 2-3 millimeters. How could that tiny bit fucking hurt so much?

I don't want surgery. As it is, I think I've cruised through all of my vacation time. My paycheck is going to be tiny and I can't babysit for extra cash for a while.

No lifting over 10 lbs and no bending.

Overall, I'm not happy. And I'm high as all hell. I don't do Vicodan as well as I used to, and mixed with 600 mg. ibuprofen doses and something called Flexeril aka cyclobenzaprine, well it just makes me loopy and kinda dizzy.

Regardless, I am now headed back to work tomorrow. I'll be there, but I'll be high as a motherfucker.

I'm as High as Paris Hilton at a Crack House

It's pretty much the only way I can sit.

Still no MRI results yet. Their computer was down so they couldn't get them to my doc. And he wants them to do a comparison study to the ones they did last year.

I was in so much pain this morning, I had to crawl to the bathroom. I think I scared Zoe because I was crying a little and couldn't really stand for long. By the time I took her to school and got to the doctor, I was nearly hyperventilating. I must learn to mediate or something because it makes me feel like I am going to black out.

He did some therapy on me this morning and then said I needed some big time meds. He can't give me the steroid stuff (which would work best) because of my diabetes.

So he prescribed some more Vicodan, some muscle relaxers and some anti-inflammatories (Celebrex). He said they should work in a few days. He may also have me come in next week for a consult with the surgeon in house depending on my MRI and how well I am responding to the drug treatment.

I got a note for another 2 days off from work. I can barely sit, and really can't walk very far.

Mom's in town, but is taking care of my sis (who had some surgery). She's also busy with some work. But I think they will be getting Zoe tomorrow for me.

Ok, I think I'm back to bed after I check my email. I'm beyond stir crazy.

I also think I need a good boinking, but that's for another day.

P.S.

I decided to not do the workman's comp thing.

I want to see my doctors. The ones that are right up the street and who helped me last time.

I don't want to hassle with anyone or potentially get it investigated or refused. The paperwork at my company is ridiculous because they are based in Louisiana.

I just want to get my back fixed.

And at least this time my boss knows that that shit for brains possibly injured me so they can't say shit when I am out with my back.

The only good thing I got from the ER was a 3 day excuse from work.

I know my doc would say I'm disabled if I asked him to.

I'm hoping that is not the case though because I just want to get better. I'm tired of not being able to take care of myself and my home.

FUCK the ER

I will never go to an ER again unless my arm has fallen off.

As you know, I screwed up my back again. The vicodan is not working. So I call my doc and they tell me that if the pain is that bad to go to the ER.

3 hours I waited in the ER. I can't sit, nor can I stand. It's taken me 2 vicodan just to sit here (and I'm fixin to go back to bed).

I ask them if there is some place I can lay down. They don't have any chairs or wheelchairs that recline. I can't lay on the floor because some ijiot's baby barfed all over the floor as she was running to the restroom, so there is a trail of vomit from one side to the other. She doesn't even tell them, and even though I mentioned it to two employees, no one comes to clean it up.

I was tempted to fake a fall in the puke just to get seen earlier.

So finally, I go back. I'm laying there, finally not in so much pain, (on a bed in the hall) and I hear the doc consulting with these parents. (who by the way got their after me, but were seen an hour before me). The doc says their baby (not their first kid) has diaper rash. The mom was concerned because she didn't know a kid could get a rash. On his dick. The kid was calm the entire 3 hours. Not one cry. Obviously he had no biz being there.

BITCH. Don't leave your kid in a wet nappy. And don't take your kid to the ER for diaper rash.

Meanwhile, I'm hiding out near the restrooms, leaned up against the wall, all the while crying because my back is killing me.

The doc won't do an MRI because I haven't been in an accident. He prescribes major narcs, but I can't take anything because I drove myself in. I can't even get off the gurney because 3 hours of waiting have now made my back spasm so bad I can barely move. They don't even help me up. Finally the lady with a mop who smiled at me came by. I asked if she would help me up and she lends me a hand.

I get outside and can't walk to my car. So I'm practically hyperventilating from the pain, and this dude gets a nurse. She comes out with a wheelchair. Thanks. But I can't sit. Dipshit. And she just looks at me.

The nice woman comes up. She's smokin a cig and offers to go pick up my SUV for me. She leaves her purse so I know she's not carjacking me.

6 hours and $50 later. I'm the same place I was before. Grrrrrrr

I get an MRI tonight at 6. Yay. A tube again. I'm going to practice saying my rosary right now.

Ok, I'm ouchie. Back to bed.

Assfuck

Ok.

First I hurt my back.

Then I start healing.

Then I get fucking strep infection from hell.

Then this total assfucker from work decided to be fucking high-larious and snuck up on me and tipped my chair backwards and I re-injure my back.

It was really sore after he did that. Then I babysat Saturday and took all 3 under 5ivers to the ranch. Since Sis's daughter is not yet potty trained I had to pick her up. A bunch.

So now my fucking back is killing me again. Just like before.

FUCK. I want to be flat on my back right now.

I so need another script for vicodan because I have only about 10 left.

I so know why people go postal at work. I really do.

Weblogs about Logs

Is there something wrong with me if I don't have crazy poop stories to tell?

I don't get all constipated, so that's out. I don't have giving birth to a shit the size of a baby stories, so that one is out too. My kid doesn't even get constipated either.

Although I do have gross dude stories. Like how they all seem to save it up just so they can come to my apartment and dispose of their hideous smelling dookie.

I do have The Ibis Story, but that's about it.

I feel so boring now.

Ok, Mr. Coworker. It's really not appropriate to clip your nails in the office. I don't want to hear click, click, click when I'm trying to eat my chicken broccoli.

I'm all grossed out.

IP Phreaks

68.239.245.199

Why were you searcing on "thin granny sex?"

Bizarro

My Name is Deb and I'm a Cathaholic

Ok. I'm Catholic.

I consider myself not really a lapsed Catholic, but I don't go to mass as often as I used to. I curse way too much, and I don't believe in everything that they believe in.

But I was raised a Catholic and my friends and family that are Catholics are some of the best people I know.

I miss going to church. I miss my friends at church. I miss the peace and the calm.

But I usually don't like to talk about being a Catholic because it's like you've given someone free reign to fucking insult you and tell you you should change religions because the Catholic church is fucked up.

They attack you for the past sins of the church. They attack you for your beliefs (even though I don't agree with everything). They attack you for the current sins of the church. They accuse you of worshiping statues. They accuse you of being in a cult led by the Pope who is evil incarnate. They accuse you of listening to pedophiles.

Can't I just leave my religion between me and God? I don't get all up in your fucking Baptist business, so back the hell off.

What is it about Catholics that make people so rabid to insult you?

Fuck you. Go eat a dick.

Lockout

I accidently locked myself out of my own Journal.

Thanks to Miss Kymberlie at Neurotic Fishbowl for making all right with the world!!

Busy at work.

Sexy Soccer player wants sex. Go figure.

Maybe I'll take him up on it. He's rowrrrrrrrrr HOT!

It's good to be back!

The List

Stolen from my posts elsewhere.

Things I don't want to know. (unless you are writing about it in your blog, then I want to know evvvverrrryyythingggg) ..... Please. Read on.

1. I don't want to know what turns you on.
2. I don't want to know how many people you have slept with.
3. I don't want to know what makes you come.
4. I don't want to know who makes you come.
5. I don't want to know how you spell come.

6. I don't want to know if you like anal sex.
7. I don't want to know what is your favorite position.
8. I don't want to know who you are currently boinking.
9. I don't want to know what your spooge tastes like. (or why you know what it tastes like)
10. I don't want to know what you moan when you are having sex. (oh, great, now I can't get the words 'Fuck Me, Ghandi' out of my head)

11. I don't want to know what foods turn you on.
12. I don't want to know how big your free willy is.
13. I don't want to know when you lost your virginity.
14. I don't want to know the time you did the upside down horizontal tango during that last full moon in your mom's cousin's sister's brother's dentist's waiting room while reading Highlights.
15. I don't want to know about your poop. (I don't even want to know about my own poop)

16. I don't want to know what you read while pooping.
17. I don't want to think about any of you pooping.
18. I don't want to know about your poop fetishes. (or any other fetishes for that matter)
19. I don't want to know that you are commando at the parties.
20. I don't want to know who you lust after. (especially if it is me)

21. I don't want to know about your dildo and that it has realistic veins and removable foreskin on it.
22. I don't want to know how often you masturbate.
23. I don't want to know what you think about when you jerk it.
24. I don't want to know that you shoot gatorade out your cooch.
25. I don't want to know that you drink tequila off your boobs. (or anyone else's boobs)

26. I don't want to know that you moan your dog's nickname during sex.
27. I don't want to know that you have sex with your cat.
28. I don't want to know that you nicknamed your crotch.
29. I don't want to know that you hickey'd your name on your girl's ta tas.
30. I don't want to know that you eat strawberries out of your woman's snatch.

31. I don't want to know that you wear silky boxers because they remind you of your mother.
32. I don't want to know that you stick tampons up your butt.
33. I don't want to know that you orgasm in your sleep.
34. I don't want to know what you think of me.
35. I don't want to know who you'd rather do.

36. I don't want to know that you and your girlfriend had a threesome with a donkey.
37. I don't want to know that you shag to Heatwave.
38. I don't want to know that you have completed the Kama Sutra.
39. I don't want to know that your man's hung like a hamster.
40. I don't want to know that you are about to fuck.

41. I don't want to know your sweet spot.
42. I don't want to know your woman has 3 nipples.
43. I don't want to know that your dildo is shaped like Jesus.
44. I don't want to know that your favorite toy plays the star spangled banner when you rub it on your pussy.
45. I don't want to know what you call your dude's wang.

46. I don't want to know that you carry a suitcase full of D batteries.
47. I don't want to know that you kept the blue dress.
48. I don't want to know that you sucked off your boss.
49. I don't want to know the color of your boyfriends pubes.
50. I don't want to know that you shagged your junior high math teacher.

51. I don't want to know that your boobs can hold a pencil under them.
52. I don't want to know that there are nude pictures of you somewhere.
53. I don't want to know that you once did it in a cab.
54. I don't want to know that you watch or make amateur porn.
55. I don't want to know that you run an illegal sex web site.

56. I don't want to know if the rug matches the drapes.
57. I don't want to know your girl really is a whore.
58. I don't want to know your girl really is a whore and you like it.
59. I don't want to know that you went to Neverland as a child.
60. I don't want to know what brand of condoms you use.

61. I don't want to know that you share underwear with your girlfriend.
62. I don't want to know that you cook naked.
63. I don't want to know that you watch TRL live and eat cheetos off your wang.
64. I don't want to know that you boinked Bob Saget in college.
65. I don't want to know that you had sex with a senator.

66. I don't want to know that you eat oranges in the bathtub.
67. I don't want to see yer boobs.
68. I don't want to see the tattoo on your snatch hairline.
69. I don't want to see your buttcrack.
70. I don't want to see your stretchmarks on your ass.

71. I don't want to see your cleavage if your boobs are saggier than my grannies.
72. I don't want to see you licking someone's boob, tattoo, buttcrack, stretchmark, and/or cleavage.
73. I don't want to know your sperm count.
74. I don't want to know your mother's nickname for her virginia.
75. I don't want to know your high school boyfriend's dick size.

76. I don't want to know your brother's secret masturbatory fantasy about you.
77. I don't want to measure your schlong.
78. I don't want to know you call your dick Cletus and that your best friend calls his Bobafett.
79. I don't want to know that you wax your pussy.
80. I don't want to know you shave your balls.

81. I don't want to know that you have sucked a guys cock, but you aren't gay, really.
82. I don't want to know that you jacked off in the library in the stacks self-help section and came all over Dr. Phil's Relationship Rescue.
83. I don't want to know that your dog got a hardon while watching you shower.
84. I don't want to know that your fucked your boyfriend in the bathroom at your grandmother's house.
85. I don't want to know that your boss had gay porn on his computer at work.

86. I don't want to know that you will have sex with black men, but not date them.
87. I don't want to know that your ex husband did blow off your tits.
88. I don't want to know that you wear rubber thongs.
89. I don't want to see pictures of your rubber thongs. (you're a guy for christsake - doesn't that make your dick sweat?)
90. I don't want to know that you were molested as a child.

91. I don't want to know that you fart on the first date.
92. I don't want to know that you can't come from a blowjob.
93. I don't want to know that you wear diapers regularly for fun.
94. I don't want to know that you eat your own nose hair.
95. I don't want to know that you have drank your blood before.

96. I don't want to know that you shoved a florescent lightbulb up your ass.
97. I don't want to know that you shoved anything in any orifice.
98. I don't want to know that your mother is really your aunt.
99. I don't want to know that you save your lovers sperm in the freezer.

100. I don't want to know why I don't want to know all of this.

Hear No. See No. Speak All.

Shat-agories

I know I spill all here. But you know what, it's my blog and I can post whatever the fuck I want to. I pay for the domain. I pay for the bloghosting. And I pay, well, that's about all I pay for, but it's my place. So fuck off if you don't like what I have to say.

I am starting a new category. It's called "I Don't Want to Motherfucking Know."

See. I post to a few forums. I'm the resident snark/cunt/bitch whatever. And lately peeps have been posting stuff that, well... you get it. TMI bitches.

I'm glad you are fucking. Hell. I'm glad when anyone fucks. I really am. It doesn't affect me. It makes you happy. I don't care that your new fuckbuddy is a complete tool or an asswad, because frankly I'm not sleeping with him, so I don't give a shit.

But I don't care. Even when it was Bennifer or Brad and Jen, I could give a shit. I'm happy for ya, but damn, no one really truly gives a shit.

Oh sure, you will get the standard, "oh, you are such a sweetie. I'm so happy for you" / "he better be good to you or I'll snatch you right up" kind of replies.

But in the grand scheme of things... honey, no one really gives a fuck. And they really really really won't give a fuck if you post your gushing on and on all over the place.

I don't mind a few anecdotes. I think they are cute and sweet. Flirting. No biggie to me. But fucking dominating every single thread or forum with how much you like to stick your tongue in homeboy's asscrack is just too much information.

We're going camping... "Oh, I can't wait to get under the stars with my sweetie."

I've not been feeling well lately ... "Yeah, my sweetie had hemorrhoid, I made him some home made ass butt cream"

The Pope died and I'm sad ... "I once fantasized about fucking at the Vatican with my baby. I came and screamed 'ominous dominous patris sanctus sustus'."

Basically, even if you were my bestgoodgirlfriend, I truly am happy for you, but please, shut the fuck up already.

And God forbid the hints to "cool it" don't work. So you try being blunt. Then it ends up being the antichrist of tact/debbitch move. Hey, if you weren't such a dipshit, you would realize that

a) no one wants to read it, and

b) while I'm sure your bootknocker loves you beyond comprehension, he's got to be uncomfortable reading your mush about his big strong arms or his passionate kisses. Or that he has a giant dick. Yes, it's flattering, but guys don't want to read that or to let others know their secrets. They might lose their mojo jojo, and

c) if it's not your first go round with a "successful" relationship, perhaps you should wait more than a month or two or six to go around telling everyone that you've found the love of your life. Let's see. Since Christmas you've happened to find him three times? Oh, wait, you mean three. different. dudes. Whooptie.

finally

d) from someone who has gushed too soon and too often, there's nothing more sobering than reading past posts about your failed relationship(s). Except maybe reading his posts as well. Or seeing that Ms. Perfect tongue down a new hottie at a bar in front of your face all the while knowing that somewhere in internet infinity there is a post that says Ms. Suckface is 'everything I have wanted to find in someone so far.'

Now now, they surely doth protesteth when you say... hey... ok... slow yer roll with the posts already. They say they aren't being graphic. They say don't piss on their parade.

But since you basically have sent out a press release about your new relationship we already know you are fucking. When you mention staying in bed or having to go shower off because you are "exerted," we know exactly who you have been boinging. When you post that there is no need to fake an orgasm, we can visualize you and Mr. Sproing going at it like a couple of humping camels.

I. Just. Don't. Want. To. Know. That. About. You.

I know I am graphic here. I'm sure it grosses some of you out. Some have even mentioned this to me. But you know what, it's my motherfucking site. And you don't have to read about me and mine when you are simply trying to read a topic - about food or an event or any subject ... because I don't post my shit where you are trying to eat. Stop dominating the fucking forum with your blather.

It's like having a conversation with a group of women and one keeps focusing every single topic back to her.

Shut. Your. Goddamn. Piehole. We get it already. Yippeee. You're fucking.

By me telling you to shut it, I might actually be doing you a favor. On matters of the heart, I often connect with men more often than women.

Women can be stupid as hell in relationships. I know I am. But when it comes to looking at others, I think like a dude. And your fucking dude (unless he's as much of a tool as you) doesn't want you to post that shit either. It makes them nervous. What if I can't get it up one night? Are all our friends going to read about *that* on the forums?

Some people actually have fantastic sex and they don't post it somewhere on the internet. Holy shit. Figure that one out.

They must be losers.

Boredom & Too Tired to Read Me Book

If you're blurking and you know it clap your hands.
If you're blurking and you know it clap your hands.
If you're blurking and you know it, then your comments sure should show it
If you're blurking and you know it .... screw the hand clapping...

well motherfuckers, say hi, damnit!

I had someone from my real life that I didn't realize er... was reading here call my dude The Boy for Sex.

Ok, weird is that not many know who he is, although I'm assuming that that number is growing.

But it still caught me a bit off guard.

And since, well, he's The Boy for Sex, and has been for nearly six months, I sort of wish I had re-named him something different.

Because our relationship surely has morphed. Way too hard to describe. But every time my phone rings, and I hear his ring tone (G Love's Special Sauce), it makes me smile. And not just because he rocks it in the sack.

My boy is sweetness personified. But is too macho to even show that to anyone, but me. It still makes me smile.

To my special someone who has been having some health probs lately, I hope all is well in your world. We've been keeping you in our prayers. Please let me know how you are doing when you get a minute.

875 mg

Ok, these are some strong-ass antibiotics. 875 mg x 2 times a day.

They are fucking my stomach up. And my cooter.

I don't know about you, but whenever I have the trots (sorry, I know TMI) I still eat whatever the fuck I want to eat. My theory is that you can eat bananas and white toast and still have the shits, you might as well eat some steak or a big as ice cream sundae. Fuck soup.

I'm so gross right now, I'm grossing myself out.

At least I bathed. I no longer stink like a robot.

Half Dead

Ok, I stink. I stink, as Zoe says, like a Robot. As soon as I'm done, I'm going to go take a shower.

I don't have mono, epstein barr, or problems with my thyroid - yay.

But I still feel absolutely HORRIBLE. I can barely get out of bed and when I do even the smallest of things, I'm so out of breath.

I didn't go to work yesterday or today. My ears and throat hurt like a mofo and keep me awake at night. I don't know what to do. I can't keep missing work, but I haven't felt this bad in years.

My doctor said that if these antibiotics don't make me feel better by the end of the dose, to call him back and come back in to see him. He thinks the strep infection has been going on for a while. So it's zapping my energy.

I am so tired, I had zero energy to take Zoe to school today. So she's flitting about the house. I had to log in to check my bank account as I've spend a bazillion dollars on meds and doctor visits lately. So far so good I think.

I wish my mom were here. I do. I miss her. I miss someone taking care of me when I'm sick. I actually cooked dinner last night. How fucked up is that? I don't have money for takeout because we did that pretty much all last week. It's so difficult to deal with Zoe when I feel so bad. I wish I could even take her somewhere so she could run around and stuff, but I am too drained.

Yesterday I sucked it up and took her to school. Then I grocery shopped a bit. It wore me out and I had to sleep. For THREE FREAKING HOURS!

Who the fuck does laundry when they are sick? Me. I'm a sick motherfucker, but my laundry is getting done.

It makes me nearly pass out, but motherfucker, my clothes are clean.

I still want my mom. :(

Reason 1934183209 Why I Love You

deb_u: i changed my ringer for you

deb_u_: run DMC, Mary Mary, Why You Buggin

deb_u: I love that song

meerkat: I love that 50 cent song...Disco Inferno

deb_u: i don't know that one

meerkat: yeah you do

deb_u: is it on sprint?

meerkat: they play it all the time

meerkat: no, on the radio

deb_u: hmm

deb_u: sprint has a ton of songs

meerkat: little momma show me how you move it, g'head get ya back into it....etc etc

meerkat: writing lyrics make you look like a colossal poindexter

meerkat: esp hip hop

deb_u: omg, yeah, i know that song

deb_u: zoe is so funny, she knows all those songs

meerkat: she'll be the coolest motherfucker in kindergarten.

Will you marry me. In Vermont?

That's Badddd

Ok, I've been feeling super crappy for a few months now.

My endocrinologist basically said my immune system was saying, "FUCK YOU!"

So today I can't take it. The antibiotics my primary doc called in for me are doing nada. I made an appointment to go see him.

My PC doc is a dude I have never seen as usually I see an assistant. He's cute and gay and walks in and says, "I can tell just by looking at you that you feel like crap. You've got some kind of virus because you don't look too good."

Not something you want to hear, but at least you aren't imagining it.

So he says he's going to do some bloodwork to screen for mono, epstein-barr, and because I've gained so much weight in a month, they are going to check my thyroid too.

He checks my ears and - go figure, I've got a raging ear infection. For kicks, he does a strep screen too.

Turns out I have strep throat.

So I feel like caca doo doo and now I have to take Zoe to the ped tomorrow to have her get a strep screen as well. Because you know I'm made of money. I've spent nearly $300 this month on medical crap.

Sometimes you just can't win for losing.

Anyway, I really do feel like I have mono. Which would really be oddly ironic because the last time I had mono, I was a junior in high school. I was supposed to go to Rome with my church group to go see the Pope for Easter mass. But since I had mono, Sis #2 got to go instead. Now dude is all fixin to die and I might again have mono.

Ok, so it's not ironic.

I'm sad about the Pope. Fuck all you Pope haters, but the dude worked his ass off. And he was a good man who strived above all for peace and understanding. To be Christ like.

That's the best thing you can do.

I hope he's not suffering.

I hope I don't have mono. But damn, I'm tired as a mofo.

is it bad to say the words Pope and fuck in the same sentence?