A question for the ladies

I’m not a shoe person.  I wear Crocs fer fuck’s sake.  So I have a question for those of you (men, if your wives/girlfriends/partners are shoe people, now is the time for us to meet) who are shoe people.

I have a wedding to go to in mid April, I will be 6 months pregnant.  My dress looks like this:

It’s a maxi dress (if that means anything to you) and is actually quite long on me so I need a little heel.  The sweater I’m going to wear with the dress looks like this (mid April, could be warm, could be cool/cold, I was a girl scout and we’re always prepared):

I’m not entirely comfortable in high heels, the highest I usually wear is a kitten heel.  Unfortunately the heels I have will not go (they are just too silver and I’m starting to retain water…in my feet so my black ones won’t work).  I’m thinking black would be better, hoping for a wedge heel and something that won’t break the bank.  All of the wedges I’ve looked at have the cork heel, is that ok to wear with this dress?  Does anyone out there have any suggestions for me? 

Please help the shoe clueless.

I feel like freakin’ Goldilock

I don’t know how many people out there have done grown up things, like shop for major home purchases (we will move onto the actual home purchase, some day, I hope), but I assume it has to be a few of you since I’ve seen some pictures that prove that y’all have furniture in your homes.  Then again, maybe you acquired your furniture the same way my husband and I had, by the simple act of shit being handed down to you and a few trips to Ikea (someday I will confess my love/hate relationship with all Ikea products, but not today) to supplement what family didn’t give you.

Over the years my husband and I have slowly replaced things that were once someone else’s.  Coffee table, dining room tables, bookcases…you get the drift.  One of the first things we bought as a married couple was, and at the time I believed this was absolutely brilliant (past me was a fucking idiot), a futon.  We had the ability to purchase an actual couch at the time and we went with a futon.  Seriously?  I kinda wish I could go back in time and punch myself in the mouth.

Well over the last few months getting up from said futon has become a challenge.  Turns out I don’t bend or fold the way that I used to.  Let us say that bending over to tie my shoes is becoming a thing of the past and I look forward to the weather warming up so that I can wear slip on shoes more often.  So, can you imagine what it must be like to get up from a futon?  Has anyone ever owned or even sat on a futon? 

Sure, at first it’s sorta like:  ”Hey, this is kinda nice!  The mattress is all squishy and my butt is just sinking into it.” 

Then it goes to:  ”Wow, arm rests are kinda like leaning on a piece of wood, must be because I am.” 

Which quickly morphs into:  “Shit, I gotta pee.  How the hell am I supposed to get out of this thing?  It’s like sitting on a torture device.”

Maybe that’s just me.

Keep in mind that when the mattress was brand new, it was great.  We had plans to replace the mattress every so often, but then that went out the window.  Then I was getting annoyed because one side was always drooping more than the other side.  Then I started to hate the cover, and a new cover is kind of expensive even if you buy it from Ebay.  Then you need a ton of pillows to keep from having to lean on the uncomfortable arm rests and before you know it you have more throw pillows than available sitting space.

Ridiculous.

I begged my husband to concede and go shopping for a new couch with our big fat tax return (not bragging, it really wasn’t that great but it’s the best one we’ve seen since I stopped working).  I could tell he wanted to, but at the same time he must have remembered how bored I got with the process the first time we tried it.  Because honestly, the futon is my fault.  We were shopping for a new mattress (which we had gotten) and I decided I wanted the couch replaced.  Well, as opposed to going to someplace like an actual furniture store, we went to Mattress Mart or something like that, picked out our mattress and I got distracted by the futon.  I decided it was one stop shopping, paid for everything, scheduled delivery and went home.  Lazy.

Anyway, we did it right this time.  My husband actually had to drag me out of the first place we went to because he sensed me settling, again.  I applaud him and love him for this.  Last night, not so much.  Last night I wanted to flay him.  We went to six (count em) places.  I’m fucking Goldilocks because of all the damned couches I had to sit on last night.  The worst part was, he wouldn’t help me up unless I really couldn’t do it.  He wanted to make sure I could get up by myself because he won’t be home every night to get my ass up and out of the couch.  Therefore, my dream of a squishy couch was out.  He sat on everything I liked, and gave me his honest opinion. 

This didn’t keep me from attempting murder at the sixth store when he informed me he liked the couch at the third store the best. 

Long story short (too late!) we bought a new couch.  It’s being delivered on Thursday and I couldn’t be happier.  We got it with stain guard, how fucking grown up are we?  Paying extra money for stain guard…I’m so proud of us.  There was a moment where we were going to get the couch and love seat (OMG, a matching set?!) and then reason returned and it occurred that we needed to have money left over for other things, like food and bills.  But who knows, we may be able to get the matching love seat someday. 

So, anyone need a futon?

The post in which I rant like a lunatic

We, as people are creating a “War of the Worlds” world.  I’m sure of it.  We are creating a world where colds aren’t getting worse, but we are becoming more immune to the simple everyday germs that surround us.  The ones that keep our immune systems in check and, well for lack of a better term, healthy.  We need germs, we need some exposure to them or else a time will come where a simple cold will kill us.

I’m all for automatic water faucets, hand dryers and paper towel dispensers.  I wish there was a button you could hit with your hip on the way out of a public restroom that would open the door for you so that you don’t have to touch the door handle with your nice clean hands after some disgusting ape chose not to wash theirs.

*Side rant:  there really should be a rule that if you even walk into a public restroom that in order to leave it you must wash your hands.  I cannot count the number of times that I have used a public restroom (yes, eww, let’s all shudder with me now, but when you have a baby sitting on your bladder, you’d be amazed at the places you go) and gone to the sinks and washed my hands and watched some pig of a woman walk out of a stall, come over to the mirrors, check her make up and leave the restroom.  Part of me wanted to run out of the restroom and use an entire bottle of hand sanitizer on her, the other part of me just tried to stop dry heaving.

I love, to a point, that society is creating a world where you don’t have to touch as many oogy things.  I was never a fan of touching public restroom flush handles, I would more times than not use my foot.  Luckily those things always worked no matter how you hit them.  But now the potty’s have sensors that automatically flush for you, this is a problem though if you sit there too long because you made the mistake of getting the XL coffee from Dunkin Donuts and you have to pee what could be a small creek.  Those automatic flushes…hoo boy, and a little bit oogy.

Anyway, my point is this:  the one thing this world really doesn’t need is an automatic soap dispenser.  And here is my logic for this point; you can touch the one germ infested thing because, and this part is very important, you are washing your fucking hands!

Automatic soap dispensers, this is only my opinion, are feeding a hysteria and right now, Lysol is trying to cash in on it.  I bring you, the Lysol No-Touch Hand Soap System.  Go ahead, watch it, I’ll wait.

(Sorry, tried to add video but it just wasn’t happening, so here is the link to the video that Lysol has on their website if you haven’t seen the commercial yourself)

My favorite part is where the lady tells us that soap pumps have “a lot” of germs on them.  No shit Sherlock, that’s why you’re washing your fucking hands!  It’s not like I pump the soap onto my hand and then wipe it off on the towel and leave the room without adding water and doing the whole hand washing motion thingy.  And, I don’t know about you guys, but when I clean the bathroom and kitchen, hell even in between regular cleanings when I use those damned bleach wipes, I tend to wipe down my soap dispensers.  So maybe I don’t have “a lot” of germs hanging around on my dispensers.  And then, just for good measure, I wash my hands.

I realize that stuff like this plays into a germaphobes life, I can guarantee the next time I go to either my girlfriend’s house or sister-in-law’s house, one or most likely both will have them.  The killer part is, one is a preschool teacher, the other was a massage therapist.  These people come in contact with more germs than either of them wants to dream of.  My girlfriend’s boys are sick, all the time, because she over sanitized.  My sister-in-law who is about a month away from giving birth, has avoided getting sick her whole pregnancy.  When that kid comes out and gets his first cold, she is going to melt the fuck down.

Meanwhile, I touch people and their nasty hair all day.  I’m lucky if I get to wash my hands in between clients.  And, I’m forgetting to mention the two little germ factory’s I watch for a few hours every day.  If the boy could learn to cover his mouth when he coughs, well it would be an act of God himself.  So, needless to say (or maybe not) I have been sick many times during my pregnancy, and both baby and I are fine.

Anyway, back to the touchless soap dispenser.  If people are washing their hands correctly (some shit about the length of the song Happy Birthday is adequate, personally I use ABC just because I touch people and their nasty hair all day) then we don’t need to worry about the damned germs hanging around on the soap dispenser pump, do we? 

Have I gone over the deep end?  Am I the only one who thinks this is insane?  Please, let me know.  If I am, maybe I’ll go out and buy the no touch soap dispensers, because if you can’t beat em, might as well join em.

When the zombies attack

That is a phrase I utter quite often.  It may sound insane (I’m sure it is), but I’m convinced that one day zombies will attack.  This is why I have made it my lifelong ambition to study every zombie book and movie that I can get my hands on.  I’m sure that this propensity that I have hasn’t helped my situation any, but c’mon, doesn’t it seem likely that it could happen?

I’m well aware that this is all coming out of left field but I’ve been thinking, for like a week now, about something I saw on TV.  My husband and I have been watching this new show on NBC called Fear Itself.  Some of the episodes are a little lame, but the one last week (not yesterday, 7/24) was about zombies.  I don’t want to give the whole episode away since it appears that NBC is replaying the episodes for free online but this particular episode is called New Year’s Day, and it was about, you guessed it; zombies! 

When you are forced to think about it, how do you think you would do if you were in world where zombies existed?  I could most likely go at least a day or two of having absolutely no idea.  I live the life of a hermit right now and if it the whole zombie thing happened on one of my husband’s days off I think I might be able to avoid it.  At least until the day that my husband went back to work and I decided to leave our home.  I like to tell myself that I’m so well prepared for a zombie attack that I would survive, but I think my self defense skills may be a little rusty.  Besides, I really don’t think a kick to the junk of a zombie is going to have the desired effect that it would have on a man attacking me in the parking lot of the mall.  Thinking about it, I don’t think any of my self defense skills would work:  biting would only infect me, kicking/scratching/hitting would really do nothing except piss the zombie off and screaming my head off would only alert other zombies to my whereabouts.

 

I tend to keep my old softball bat (aluminum) in the trunk of my car and I think I would be able to use that on zombies.  What would really kill me is my half assed grocery shopping I tend to do.  I only do big loads of grocery shopping when my husband is home (I have three flights of stairs to come up, I am so not doing that alone) and I tend to go out at least three times a week for odds and ends.  I’m not really prepared for a zombie attack.  Unless of course we don’t need to eat anymore or we can live off of toilet paper, tampons and deodorant since those are the only things we never seem to run out of around here.

Yeah don’t worry, the crazy train has left the building.  I just wanted to give you guys a peek into the world that my husband lives in with me.  Just think, on the internet you can avoid me, but this poor guy has to come home to wife who tries to tell him that she will gladly shoot him in the brain if he gets turned into a zombie first.

A question for the ladies…

Have you ever been in the shower (nope not the question yet) and finished shaving one leg only to look down at the other one and think, for the briefest of moments, I’m too tired to shave the other leg?

And in that oh so brief moment, you also think, who would notice?  I’m planning on wearing pants.

  

Don’t worry, I shaved the other leg.

The thought process of a crazy person

Shopping for me is like a mental marathon.  I go to the store, let’s say Target, for a few simple things that I know I will find there for less money than I would at a grocery store.  Plus there is a Starbucks there, so it’s like a 2 for 1 deal for me.  Please, join me on my walk through Crazyville.

Writer’s note:  This conversation is wholly one sided.  There is no one with me.  I am talking to myself, sometimes out loud but usually in my own head.

I walk into the store and immediately decide I’m just going to walk around and kill time.  I like to browse.  Browsing is where the trouble starts.  I make it to the jewelry and handbag section and I might as well hand over my credit cards.  The longing starts.  I’m shamelessly addicted to jewelry and handbags.  Funny considering I’m a tomboy at heart, with a psuedo Goth girl exterior.

Ah, there it is, the object of my new affection (insert object here).  Of course it isn’t on sale.  Why would the object that I now want and feel like I can’t live without be on sale?  That would be craziness.  How would Target get me to keep coming back?

Despite the fact that it isn’t on sale, I pick it up and put it in my shopping cart.

Ok, now I feel guilty.  I should put it away.  

But, it’s so pretty.  (I realize I’ve officially lost any males who read this blog, I am sorry for this.  I’ll try to do better next time.)

Ok, putting it in the shopping cart does not mean I have to buy it.  I’ll walk around, get the things I need and keep track of the amount I’m spending.  If it gets too high, then I’ll put (insert object here) back.

Yeah right, who am I kidding?

No, I’ll put it back and wait until it goes on sale.  If it never goes on sale than it has to go on clearance at some point, right?  I’ll just keep waiting.  (Notice this line of reasoning gives me a reason to constantly go back to the store.  This is ok because it’s right down the street from where my husband works.  It’s not a waste of gas if you’re in that area anyway.)

What if it goes on clearance, but it’s sold out?  (This is not a hint, it’s a challenge.)

At this point I am more than halfway through the store, I’m at the pharmacy section and just about done.  You would think that the guilt would either subside or just end.  It doesn’t though.  I’m still obsessing over whether to keep it or put it away.  I want the item, but I know the guilt I would feel if I did buy it.  The guilt I feel over buying it though is nothing compared to the days/weeks/months of OCD that will result in my eventually obtaining said object.  If I do manage to walk out of the store without the object I know I will immediatly go home and start searching for it on the internet, at what I hope will be a much cheaper price.  It usually doesn’t work out that way; once you figure in shipping and tax, it’s cheaper to buy it at the damned store.

Scenario #1:  I buy the object.  I am happy.  My husband is happy because I am not asking him “should I have bought it?” a hundred times a day.

Scenario #2:  I don’t buy the object.  I spend more time than is necessary looking for the object somewhere else.  I go back to the original store I found it at, and it’s no longer there.  Curses!  Sold out!  Must go to another store.  Great, it’s sold out at all of the stores.  Now I have to go back to searching online.  I know, I have family in other states.  I’ll call them and have them look for me.  Someone has to have it.  (Like I said, Sold Out is not a sign, it’s a challenge.)

Moral of the story:  9 out of 10 times I end up with the object.  Sometimes I pay full price, other times I get lucky and catch it when it goes on clearance. 

The real moral of the story:  It’s exhausting being me.

Cat supervision may be necessary

 

 I have a cat.  A psychotic cat.  A cat who will not let me go into the bathroom by myself.  I think she’s afraid that I’m going to somehow hurt myself.  Which actually brings up a funny story. 

One day I went into the bathroom with a cat underfoot, and I asked her (yes, I talk to my animals) if I needed supervision.  She looked at me as if to say “of course you do.”  I proceeded to to step into the garbage can.  I said ow, my husband laughed hysterically. 

Anyway, when I do close the door all I hear at the door are furious, furry beatings on the door.  Since my husband works during the day, I can usually do everything that I do in the morning with the door open.  This appeases the cat, and doesn’t freak me out when I hear the noises at the door.

So, one day I’m in the shower minding my own business.  The cat had been in the bathroom with me when I got into the shower, therefore I expected her to be there when I got out. 

Yeah, she was still in the bathroom with me.  Hell, she was in the shower with me.  And she appeared to have no problems with getting wet.  I on the other hand, did have a problem with a cat sitting in the shower with me and staring at me.  Maybe I need to learn to shower with a swim suit on? 

Whoever says that cats don’t like water, is a liar and must meet my cat.