My Latest Obsession

I found this shirt yesterday at TJ Maxx and was so excited. It's a workout shirt with a built in bra in a size 3X! I was so happy I bought all they had, which, unfortunately, was only two. They were $15.00, with a "suggested" retail price of $40.00. Since then, I have dragged Robin to every TJ Maxx, Marshall's and Ross in a 25 mile radius. No luck - this was a one time thing.

But this has got me thinking and now I'm upset. We were at a strip mall in Fort Lauderdale today. We stopped to go to TJ Maxx, but there was also a Sports Authority and an Avenue (large size clothes for women). I don't normally shop at either store, but figured while I was there, I'd pop in to see if either store had my size 3x workout shirt.

Sports Authority had nothing larger than an XL, and that looked really small. It made me mad. Just because you're heavier doesn't mean that you're not fit. I, thank God, have perfect health (other than the touch of alcoholism), and I know it's all do to exercise. So why can't I go into a Sports Authority and buy a 3x shirt? I can actually squeeze my butt in to an XL (in strecthy exercise clothes, that is), so that's usually not a problem.

So as I ranted and raved about Sports Authority discriminating against the fat, we wandered into Avenue. They sell larger clothes, so surely I'd find something there.

Well guess what? The fat lady store doesn't sell work out clothes. That made me even madder than Sports Authority not selling them. That's the fat discriminating against the fit fat. One of their own, only in better shape.

What's a girl supposed to do? It's a catch 22. (Too bad it isn't a size 22).

I think I should start a workout clothing line and call it "Fashion for the Fit Fat".

Oh and BTW - if you happen upon (yes I said happen upon) one of these shirts (Adidas, 3x, $15.00) and would like to pick it up for me, I will happily reimburse you and pay for shipping.

Ummm?

Why does my 35 year old brother have an African American Barbie Doll prominently displaced in his room? (The fact that he has a "room" is a whole 'nother topic).

And don't tell me it's my niece's because it's not.

I asked her.

She said, "It's Daddy's".

Week 3 of my Journey on the Wagon

On Monday, 12/15/08 (coincidently, my recovering (actually seems to be recoverED) alcoholic father's birthday), I decided it was time to do something about my drinking. And by doing something about my drinking, I don't mean refreshening my drink.

So it's been a full two weeks. Out of 14 days, I remained alcohol free for 11 days. On the 3 days that I did drink, it wasn't out of stress or upsetedness or anything negative. I have become a little philosophical (for lack of a better term) about my drinking. There are days when I feel like I have to drink ("gotta") and days when I just want to drink ("wanna"). The wanna days are pretty much every day, but I only chose to drink 3 out of 14. I feel it's important to not drink on a gotta day. I also know it's important not to give in to a wanna day just because it's not a gotta day. Some days were super hard (thus the Vodka poem) and other days weren't too bad, thanks to my new friend, Xanax.

I did the math and calculated that I was drinking almost 2000 calories per day!!! My weight loss attempts had hit the wall. I knew, providing, I didn't substitute food for vodka, that I'd lose weight. So I'm proud to announce that I have lost NINE POUNDS!!!! I haven't exercised at all until yesterday because I felt so tired all the time. I gave myself two weeks and now I'm back to working out, tired or not.

I think I'll make this a weekly Monday morning post to keep myself accountable.

Holiday Summary

This is the rated G version because my mother reads this blog (or so she says).....

Pictured above is my little brother, Jason, on Christmas morning. A picture is worth a thousand words!

Seriously, the holidays were without incident (for the most part) this year. Parents behaved (give or take), brothers behaved (kinda), niece behaved (relatively speaking), Robin behaved (more or less), and my parents' kitties behaved (for them). Buddha (Jason's golden retriever) and I were absolute angels.

As always, my mom's "budget" for Christmas went out the window. I am not complaining, mind you.

Herb Encrusted Grouper

We went to a restaurant last night in Ormond Beach, "Stonewood Grill". My mom, brother and I ordered this fish and it was absolutely delicious. I was so excited to see that I could actually google the recipe. If you like fish, you have to try this:

Shopping List
INGREDIENTS:

BALSAMIC REDUCTION:

1 Cup Balsamic Vinegar
2 Tbsp. Granulated Sugar
1 1/2 Tbsp. Corn Starch
1 1/2 Tbsp. Water

HERB ENCRUSTED GROUPER:

12 oz. Cut into two 6 oz. pieces of Black Grouper (Try to get the fillet to be approximately 1” thick)
2 oz. Balsamic Dressing – found at most grocers.
1/2 Cup Herb Bread Crumbs
1 Roasted red pepper


Preparation
BALSAMIC REDUCTION:

Heat a saucepan over medium-high heat.
Place the vinegar in a saucepan until it is reduced by 1/3 and begins to thicken.
Add the sugar, and stir while dissolving.
Make a slurry of the arrowroot and water. (A slurry is a mixture of cornstarch and water.)
Slowly drizzle the slurry into the vinegar mixture until it’s thickened. The vinegar mixture must be boiling to activate the slurry to thicken the reduction.
Allow the mixture to cool.
Place in a cup and set aside for later use.
HERB ENCRUSTED GROUPER:

Preheat the oven to 375° degrees.
Dredge the piece of fish in the balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
Lightly coat the fish in the herb bread crumbs.
Place the fish on a metal cooking sheet in a preheated oven.
Bake in the oven 10-12 minutes depending upon thickness.
Remove from the oven and we suggest you serve it over a bed of savory rice pilaf.
Place strips of roasted red pepper across the top of the filet.
Drizzle balsamic reduction across the fish.

Nutrition Information:
Calories: 467.70
Protein: 31.65
Carbohydrate: 55.95
Total sugars: 31.99
Fat: 11.12

CHEF MIKE’S TIPS:
When shopping for grouper at the market, ideally what you are looking for in the grouper at the market With grouper, you always want to keep the tendons of the grouper parallel to the pan otherwise the heat won’t penetrate the meat of the fish and cook. If your piece of fish has the tendons running parallel, butterfly the fish so the tendons run up and down.

Ode to My Soon to be Lost Friend

Raspberry Vodka
What have you done?
We used to have good times
We used to have fun.

Raspberry Vodka
Where'd the time go?
A party girl in the 80's
Addicted to you lately.

Raspberry Vodka
Must say adios
It's while watching my soaps(*)
That I'll miss you the most

Raspberry Vodka
What will Smirnoff do?
Will they go bankrupt?
Or get bailed out too?

(*)Soaps are tivo'd to watch at night, not during the day, thank you very much.

Jonesing for Raspberry Vodka

Smirnoff isn't the cheapest vodka, and it's far from the most expensive. But I have tried them all and this (IMHO) is the best. A couple years ago, 20/20 or one of those shows did an expose on vodka snobs in NYC. They were blind folded and given all the expensive vodkas and Smirnoff won hands down. The tasters were people who swore they would never drink anything but Grey Goose, Stoli, Ketel One, etc.

Here is the Urban Dictionary definition of jonesing:

1. jonesing
to have a strong need, desire, or craving for something.
see also: jones
Sheeeit beeeitch after smokin' dat weed I'm jonesing for some grub!
Shaniqua is mad jonesing for Rasheed, dat bitch follow him around everywhere.
(I'm jonesing for raspberry vodka).

2. jonesing
craving; wanting
I'm jonesing for some sushi.
(I'm jonesing for raspberry vodka).

3. jonesing
the act of needing something badly. Usually related to chemical dependency.
I've been jonesing for a joint all day.
(I'm jonesing for raspberry vodka).

...AC/DC...

You either love 'em, or hate 'em.

I have always loved this band. The show was 1000% fantastic. And BTW, it was the first concert that I have ever attended sober!! I even remember it!

I was skepitcal at what the audience would be like. I figured there'd be a lot of Keith Richards types. There were a handful of those, but the overwhelming majority was middle aged men there with their buddies to have a good time. They all knew all the words to every song. It was like a festival of a boys night out.

The two guys in the pictures are brothers, Malcolm and Angus Young. Angus always wears a little boy school uniform - it's his trademark. There was only one potentially scarey moment at the show. They were playing "The Jack", which is a sexy bluesy song, and Angus began stripping. He got down to his shorts and began unzipping and teasingly pulling them down little by little.

OH HELL NO! Not that I'd care to really see any man naked, but especially not a 105 pound old man. OK, he's only ten years older than me, but he looks around 75. He's thin but flabby, pale and wrinkley.

All's well that ends well, though. He did moon us, but he had on AC/DC boxer shorts...whew!

This is too disturbing....

I'm going to the AC/DC concert tonight with Kyle, Alex and Elliot. We had originally gotten 4 tickets and Robin was going to go, but she ever so graciously gave her ticket to Kyle. He's so excited and so is she - not to be going.

Anywho...I wanted to write something about tonight's concert and I googled "scarey rocker people" to look for an interesting picture.

This is one of the pictures that showed up.

I have no idea what it's supposed to be. Maybe it's the result of too much sex and drugs and rock and roll. We'll probably see it tonight dressed in a "Back in Black" tee shirt.

I wonder if AC DC sells any tee shirts in pink?

You'd think having dental work would be the lowlight of your day, right?

Not in this household!

While my mouth was being stretched from Miami-Dade to Broward County and my poor tooth was being jackhammered upon, Robin was setting our house on fire!

When we were junking over the weekend, we bought a very cute, albeit flammable, onion. It was a little onion person. Cute enough to hang on our tree. In fact, it was, I think, an ornament.

Where did we put it? Well, on our stove, of course. Robin started making something for herself for lunch and someone (luckily one of her policeman friends) stopped by. She was distracted and forgot about her lunch and soon the blaze broke out. Luckily, they put the fire out and all that remains is a little soot.

I saw that my POG was safe, so I had to ask, "Did the little onion make it?"

As you can see, the answer was no.

On the other hand, that does inspire me not to waste my tanning sessions!

First AA Meeting

Yesterday I got my hair/roots done (thank GOD - I looked like total white trash - like someone you'd see on "COPS") and then Robin and I ran some errands. We got home around 4:00 and she got busy with a client. Let me rephrase that - she had to interview a client. One of the members of the Weight Watchers board that I post on told me to quit messing around and just go to an AA meeting. While Robin was working, I discovered that there are AA meetings at the end of my street. It started at 6:00, but doors opened at 5:00. It was 4:30. Something came over me.

I interrupted Robin and told her about the meeting. We had always agreed that she'd go to the first one with me. She told me to give her just a minute and we'd go. This meeting was closed and she couldn't go. We were both a little diappointed and my heart was racing, but I felt I had to go. No time to think about it.

So I drove (even though I coulda/shoulda) walked to the meeting. No, I had to drive because I staked out who was walking through the doors. I literally sat in my car for an hour, staring at the door, biting my nails (Note to self: schedule nail appointment). The meeting was in an office was next door to a dry cleaners. Every time a "decent" looking person pulled up, I thought, "Please let them go in that door". All the "good ones" were there to pick up dry cleaning. At 5:10, there were three rapper looking guys standing outside the door. That's it. The doors opened and they went in. OK, so there are three rapper like guys going to AA. Good for them! I kept looking at my watch. 5:15, 5:25, 5:40. Nobody else entered the doors. I'd give it until 10 til. Still nobody went in the doors. I was in the back of the building, so maybe people were entering from the front. I doubted it because there wasn't any parking out front.

I was about to go home. Me and three rapper types? I don't think so. Then I thought, "What the hell? Who cares?"

And I went inside the building. The rapper guys weren't even in the AA room. The room was decorated for Christmas and I felt like a total ass because I was crashing their Christmas party! I really wanted to shout, "Where's the Booze?", but (yes Robin) even I knew that would be crossing the line.

I stayed for the meeting and I even took the microphone and talked about myself a little. Everyone was super welcoming and nice.

It's not the fit I'm looking for, but I am proud of myself for going. I will definitely go back again, especially since it's at the time of my favorite drinking time - 6:00.

I still want to find a group with whom I have more of a connection, but this was the biggest step to get me there.

New to Therapy

I tried going to therapy for the very first time about four years ago. The first experience was not great, to say the least, mostly due to a language barrier. I gave her a second chance, then tried to bow out gracefully. It just wasn't working for me. The therapist then called me repeatedly for days and then her supervisor called me over and over. I felt like I was being a little harassed. It was kind of creepy. Looking back now, maybe they both thought that I really really really needed help. Pfft.

Then I tried again about six months ago. Was making tremendous progress and felt great. If anyone could help me, it was gonna be her. I was getting stronger, things were becoming clearer, layers were peeling off. Until she called me up one night to fire me. She suggested I try someone who specialized in same sex oriented people. Huh? I was fired due to my "alternate life style". WTF?

Stubborn me, here I am again. New therapist/old problem. I google stalked dozens of therapists in my area and landed on her. I called her on the phone and immediately liked her style. She's a New Yorker. Some people are turned off by that accent, but I have always been drawn to it. I, myself, am a New Yorker, you know. OK, Northville may not be quite as exciting as Manhatten but it's in New York and it counts.

Here's the thing. I sent her an email earlier today to tell her a couple things, one of which being that I have not had any alcohol since Sunday. That's a big deal for me! Her response? "Did we finalize a time for next Monday"?

Ummm...excuse me? Did you not read the part where today is Wednesday and I haven't had a drink since Sunday? Hello? Have you ever heard of an "atta girl" or "way to go"? She probably just focused in on the part about AA. I am so reluctant to go. Mostly because I live my life in my PJ's. I told her Monday that I'd check out online AA. Well I did. Know what they said? Go to a live meeting. I told my therapist this and told her that I'd go after the holidays. Guess that's why I didn't get my atta girl.

But still...right? Sunday til Wednesday? And tomorrow I will be able to include today.

The Heartbreak of the Gingerbread House

When I was about five years old, my mother and I made a gingerbread house on Christmas Eve day. That gingerbreadhouse was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. There were gumballs and candy canes and cute little gingerbread people dressed to the nines. When I went to bed that Christmas Eve, all I thought about was that gingerbread house. Not Santa. Not presents. (OK maybe some thoughts of presents may have crossed my mind - have you met me?) When I awoke on Christmas morning, I ran to where I had left my beloved gingerbread house. All that remained was a few pieces of black licorice and some green gumballs.

My parents had had some friends over to play cards and when the women weren't looking, the drunk bastards ATE MY GINGERBREAD HOUSE!

Have you ever heard of such a sad story? I didn't think so.

Wouldn't you like to cheer up that little ponyhaired girl? Make things right? Put a smile on those chubby rosey cheeks.

I urge you - donate now. Make the wrong right. Contribute today to the Kim E. Frasier Foundation c/o Bank of America.

It's the Holiday Season. You'll be glad you did.

(My name is Kim E. Frasier and I approve this message).

The Garage Sale

These are pictures of our garage sale (duh). We started off with a ton of junk and ended up with 3/4 of a ton of junk. The sale was successful and we took in over $1000.00, despite the fact the something could have been priced at $10.00 and the customer would inevitably say, "I give you a quarter". Then we'd say, "No, $10.00".
And on it went. We all got along quite well, except my brother (Kyle) and I got into it a few times. He thinks he's always right, but I KNOW I'm always right, so I had no choice but to lock him in Bodi's crate for a while. That's what big sisters do, right?

Idea for a Bumper Sticker!!!

On the news this morning, they said something like, "Coming up next...Are you a procrastinator? There may be good news for you. After the break."

My bumper sticker: PROCRASTINATORS RULE...WHEN THEY GET AROUND TO IT

Good, right? I know!

BTW - In case you haven't figured it out? I am procrastinating right now. Need to tackle that effing garage.

URGH!

"Somebody" decided that this would be a good time to have a garage sale. This is the before picture. In 24 hours, this mess is going to be sprawled out upon my driveway. Both Iris and Kay are going to be here. They are sure to fight each other for the good stuff. Joe and Kyle will also be here, trying to outboss each other. Alex and her entourage will also be here. I don't think she has any idea what is in store. Poor Alex. Poor naive Alex.

As many of you know, I am in the process of trying to quit drinking. I think I picked the absolute worst time of the year to do this. I'm almost certain of it. Positive, in fact. I do, however, have a loophole, and that is, my therapist does not want me to quit cold turkey. Thank goodness for loopholes.

I'll be sure to post as the "event" unravels. The garage sale, that is. Not my non-drinking journey. Although, that may be just as ugly. I'll post about that too.

Cheers!

Seriously?

Are these not the most God awful looking shoes you've ever seen?

And guess who they belong to?

Robin.

She and I have never agreed on shoes. If I love 'em, she hates 'em and vice versa. Period.

But she's gone too far with these. She thinks they look "rich". Are you effing kidding me?

I can't decide if someone dressed up as a Pilgrim last week and forgot their shoes or if they're more of a Holy Roller genre.

And I am not planning on apologizing for being politically incorrect with the Holy Roller comment. I'm pretty sure if you're a Holy Roller, you're not reading my blog.

Just saying...

Doesn't she look just like Vicky (after her makeover) from The Biggest Loser?

Never enough pink

Here's my new pink desk that I bought from the perverted garage sale man.

(I know. It's a slow news day in my otherwise facsinating life.)

Lazy Sunday afternoon...

Here we are watching crappy Christmas movies on Lifetime while Mommy cooks, does laundry, and cleans the house.

Nothing like a stogie to repair an injured shouldy.

Photobucket Album

We went garage saling this morning. It comes naturally to both of us because our mothers are both garage sale fanatics.

I bought a very cute pink school desk - will post a picture. I bought it from a man who also was selling porn. Is it me, or is that just wrong? Who sells porn at a garage sale? Better yet, who buys porn at a garage sale? Now that I think about it, I could have done a little Christmas shopping for my brothers. Hmm...wonder if he'll put stuff out tomorrow?

Iris said she's never seen porn stuff for sale at a garage sale.

My mother said if she's ever seen it she probably didn't realize what it was. Riiiiiiiight.

Didn't mention yesterday...

Yesterday Robin asked me not to include the following in my blog. Today she changed her mind and insisted that this was the best part of the Thanksgiving fiasco. For me, nothing beats Scott scooping out the pumpkin pie with a turkey bone.

So when the 3 Stooges arrive at Iris' house, Gail and Scott immediately came into the kitchen. They huddled together in a corner, not thinking anyone was paying attention. Of course, my nosey ass was pretending not to notice what was going on, but I was definitely paying attention. Scott gave her a handful of Percocets and told her he gets 500 of them a month - Enjoy!

Ironically, Robin and I were going to do an experiment. I still have most of my pain pills leftover from my finger ordeal (I'm a drinker, not a popper). We were going to leave the bottle laying around on Thanksgiving to see which one would take the pills. Joke's on me if he gets 500 a month.

A couple years ago I had a thing when I thought I was having a brain aneurism. Long story short, I got a prescription for migraines and when Robin's sister came over, she stole them. The next time she came over, I put ALLI in the pill bottle and she took them too!!!

Another Heartwarming Family Thanksgiving....

The following events are true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Or, in this case, the real people.

Robin's sister, "Gail", always makes their mother invite her best friend and her best friend's husband to the family functions. We'll call them "Scott and Mary". About an hour before we're all supposed to be at Joe and Iris' house (real names, but you knew that), Gail called Iris to say that Scott and Mary weren't coming because they were fighting. The table had been set since Wednesday and now Joe had to redo it since there were two fewer people coming.

The two old ladies, "Abby and Sharon" arrived right on time. Robin and I went outside to help them in. Abby's glasses fell off her head as she got out of the car. I picked them up and handed them to her. There was something on top of her ear that appeared to be a plastic part of her glasses. I pulled on it and her entire head of hair moved. It was really a bobby pin holding a wig in place. Oopsy!

Then we got the old gals inside and Joe was sputtering and resetting the table. Scott and Mary were coming afterall. Oh goody.

I went to the patio to look for a huge lizard that hangs out near their house (and to get away from everyone). Sharon came out there after me, took my hand, looked me straight in the eye, and asked, "How are you getting along?", as if I had a terminal disease or something. "Oh, I'm hanging in there, you know, one foot in front of the other". I had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

We were supposed to eat at 5:00. At 6:20, Gail, Scott and Mary show up. All three of them were as high as a kite. Mary walked in and yelled, "Better late than never!!!" while Scott entertained us about the Walmart pharmacist who didn't wash in hands after holding his pecker in his hands in the bathroom.

We finally sat down to eat and Scott immediately fell asleep. Mary kept yelling at him to open his effing eyes.

Abby spilled cranberry sauce all over herself and wanted to get up to clean it off. Sharon was blocking her in and refused to move. Then she started yelling at her for being so clumsy.

Someone tracked something in and the floor was a mess. This sent Joe into orbit.

But the grand finale of the entire day was when I was at the sink scraping food into the disposable. It was right before dessert. I was setting the turkey bones aside to throw into the garbage. Scott came up beside me, took a turkey bone, sucked it clean and then began scooping out the pumpkin pie with the bone and eating it. Repeat.

Happy Thanksgiving Eve to Me!

So, we went to Robin's mother's house earlier to pick up the ingredients for the stuffing that Robin offered to make. No no no. Iris was going to make it and bought all the ingredients. She then told Robin to just go ahead and make it. Rather than buy all the ingredients all over again, Iris insisted that we drive up there to get them from her. It's normally a 30 minute trip, give or take, but with today's traffic, it took almost an hour to get there.

Iris offered Robin bread crumbs. Robin's response, "We've got some".
Iris offered Robin broth. Robin's response, "We've got some".
Iris offered Robin raisins. Kim's response, "Don't you dare". I hate raisins.

A few more things were offered and declined and the only thing we left with was the remainder of Craisin (dried cranberries) bag with about 8 Craisins in it. Somebody "got in to them a little".

We have always gone to Iris and Joe's for Thanksgiving. We go to my parents' for Christmas. The average age of the guests at Thanksgiving (and all the Jewish holidays) is around 106. There's the four of us, Robin's sister, her best friend and husband, her step brother and his significant other.

In the aforementioned list of people, there are three alcoholics (not including me, thank you very little), two pill poppers, a gay male couple whose age difference is 47, and Joe who continuously keeps a watchful eye on the floor in case someone drops a crumb. If, God forbid, someone does drop a crumb on the floor, Joe becomes a mental patient and shames the crumb dropper by announcing to the entire table that So and So dropped a crumb. Then he precedes to get up, get a broom and dustpan, and then cleans up the mess. The entire time Iris is yelling, "Joe. Relax. it's just a crumb. We'll get it later".

I did the math. 9 people are going.

So why were there 11 settings at the table? While Robin was yelling at Iris for eating all the Craisins, I rudely had to ask, "Who's going to be here tomorrow?"

In addition to all of the above, there was going to be an old family friend, a very nice lady who is also a Holocaust survivor.

And Shirley.

I don't know really who the hell Shirley is or how she fits in with this group. All I know is that I met her once at some type of dinner at Iris and Joe's. I always sit next to Joe (he makes me) and she was on the other side of me. Joe made a comment about how no one wil go hungry tonight, referring to the ton of food. Shirley leaned over me and said to Joe, "I don't think she's (me) ever gone hungry".

THEN, Robin had to squeeze by Shirley and gently touched her back in an excuse me style manner and Shirley began screaming, "My back! My back!"

So yeah, Shirley will be there tomorrow. Can't wait.

Oy!

Photobucket Album

Santa

Photobucket Album

Robin & her new car

She got a 2008 Toyota Scion with fewer than 6000 miles on it. Very cute car!

The day was surprisingly painless and uneventful. The only embarassing thing was when Joe, in his very think Polish accent, began arguing with the ever patient salesman about the spare tire being a donut and not a real tire. Some of you know this already - Joe and his sister survived the Holocaust.

Notice the picture with all the people in it - see the man in the background? My mother said it looks like he's peeing in the bushes. Leave it to her to notice that.

Which is worse?

Which is worse - spending an entire day with used car salesmen or having your fingernails ripped out?

Tough call...

I know! Spending the entire day with car salesmen WITH your fingernail ripped out WITH your in-laws!!!!

Which is exactly what we're gonna do tomorrow. They just got back from NC and want to spend the day with us. We tried telling them that this is what we need to do and they offered to "come along - it'll be fun!".

I'm going to bed now because, God knows, tomorrow can't get here soon enough.

Come on -

Don't act surprised.

You knew it was coming.

You knew I'd take a picture sooner or later.

Hell and back

This is a picture of the devil in hell. He is located at 12996 West Dixie Highway in North Miami, FL. I visited him (aka "Dr. Clifford" - pfft) today. Dr. Clifford was so nice and sweet and caring just 2 days ago. He gave me nerves blocks between my fingers and he warned me that it would hurt - it did. When he removed my fingernail, he warned me that it would later throb like hell - it did. Today, he as he removed the bandage, he told me it would hurt - it did.

Then the devil doctor advised me to soak it in hot water with Epson salt, AS HE BEGAN JABBING MY USED TO BE CUTICLE WITH A SHARP INSTRUMENT!!!!

Oh. My. God.

It was literally as if the bastard was stabbing an open flesh wound. Seriously, that's exactly what it was like.

And he told me that I had to do this to myself at least once a day.

Riiiight. I might as well set my cooch hair on fire while I'm at it.

SOMEBODY'S enjoying her pain killers!!!

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Queen of Utter Pain

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My first surgery!

I went to my doctor yesterday morning due to my severe tragic fingernail mutilization. She immediately referred me to an orthopedic surgeon and he performed my very first surgery. I am recovering nicely, mostly thanks to Percocet. I may never be able to work again because I cannot type. Oh wait. I'm typing this. I may never be able to work again becaaauuussse...I'll think of something.

In lieu of cards, candy and flowers, donations can be made to my favorite cause - The Kim E. Frasier Foundation c/o Bank of America.

CHA CHIIIINNNGG!!!

I mean --- Thank you in advance for your most generous contribution.

Can't believe I missed one!! And I'm a fan of hers too!

Wanda Sykes has come out of the closet and is proudly stating that she is, indeed, "proud to be gay."

The acclaimed comedienne and star of the CBS sitcom, 'The New Adventures of Old Christine,' spoke her truth during a gay rights rally in Las Vegas on Saturday.

Due to ongoing, relentless, writhing in pain agony in my finger, today's blog will be short. This is it.

And yes. I am fully aware that I could be in the hospital like Elliot or in a crate like Maxx.

PS: Not to be left out, Robin wants you to know she has ovary pain. She doesn't even know what an ovary is. She thinks it's something you wash you face with.

This is Joe, Robin and Iris. Robin is the one with the nose ring. Iris took hers out. Joe, who is a little man and well in to his 80's, had a total knee replacement last year. Suffice it to say, he was a handful. Iris wanted to run away from home because he was so difficult. He is currently having pain in that knee. Iris kept telling him he's fine and to be quiet. After about a week of his relentless moaning and groaning, Nurse Ratched decided to take him to the doctor so he could be told he's fine and to shut up.

Come to find out, last year the doctor replaced his little knee with a huge ginormous knee fit for a football player.

One would think that Iris, at this point, would be eating crow and making the necessary surgical arrangements for her beloved Joey, right?

Au contraire...Iris has informed Joe that he needs to live with his big watermelon knee and understand that under no circumstances whatsoever will he ever - EVER - undergo another surgical procedure. Never. Never ever.

I'm gonna lose it.

My middle nail on my right hand, that is. I smashed it while closing the dryer door on Wednesday and the nail bent all the way backward. It's like a loose tooth now and has been oozing stuff for 4 days and throbbing to beat the band and now the entire fingertip is turning color. I have spent the last hour and a half online trying to figure out what to do. The best I can come up with is pricking it with a sterilzed needle to relieve the pressure.

Um? I don't think so. I'd rather just complain about the pain and let Robin think that I'm gonna get RSD.

Speaking of Robin...she just a announced that she has a sore throat and it must be PMS. She must have some pretty big ovaries.

Owwwww...this typing is making me weak. I feel lightheaded. I'm dizzy. Think I'm gonna faaaaiiiinnnnn....

Hey! Will I save 10% at my next manicure? Times are tough. $2.00 will buy Robin 40% of a pack of cigarettes.

PS: After reading this, Robin told me that people are going to think that those are my nails. They're not. They're her mama's. (Joke - hers are more like claws. I hope Iris never gets a computer!)

This is exactly why I didn't run this year.

Third Man Dies After NYC Marathon

NEW YORK (Nov. 14) - New York City Marathon officials say a 41-year-old man who collapsed during the race has died.
Race organizer New York Road Runners says the man died on Thursday in a New York City hospital. The group did not identify him.
This is the third death connected to the Nov. 2 marathon.
A 58-year-old Brazilian man died of a heart attack shortly after crossing the finish line. Another man died several hours later.

Photobucket Album

Can't spell VICKY without ICKY

I spend my Saturday mornings getting up early and watching "The Biggest Loser" that I tivo'd on Tuesday. It usually inspires me to hop on my dreadmill and get it over with before Robin even gets up.

I am fully aware that there are three sides to every story, but what the hell did Phil do to Vicky? Of all the reality crappy TV shows I have ever watched, I have never ever disliked anyone as much as I dislike Vicky. (Kellie Pickler comes in second.) I have disliked her from the very beginning and didn't even know why. Now I do. I feel really mad right now. It's stupid and it could be that they told them to shake things up a bit (like my mother suggested), but I seriuosly think that if I could, I would reach through the TV and slap her. And then, when her husband got the boot (beautiful move, Amy), next week's preview shows her threatening revenge?

Oh hell no.

Just had to vent.

In the time that it took me to write all this, I could have been on the dreadmill.

HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!

It's almost 7:00 p.m. and Robin is still working. I, on the other hand, have goofed off all day and played on my blog. Just as the office phone was ringing, she literally said, "I effing LOVE working at home. I shoulda done this a year ago".

(She didn't say effing...she said the real thing...I'm a lady and don't swear - much).

Bailey & Buddy

As I mentioned earlier, today Bailey would have turned 13 years old. We lost her to cancer on 04/07/08 and I miss her every day. Not knowing Buddy's true date of birth, we celebrate his birthday today too.

Buddy is the sweetest and most sensitive dog I have ever known. He's also very quirky. In October of 1999, we had to put Spanky, my ten year old cocker spaniel to sleep. Bailey was 3 at the time and she was incredibly depressed. About a month later, while visiting some friends in the country, Buddy appeared out of nowhere. It was about as fateful a meeting as you can possibly get. We had just decided that it was time to get another dog for Bailey and there he was. My friend said he had been running around the area for quite some time. She wanted to feed him, but her husband wouldn't let her because they'd already taken in enough strays. I slapped my hand against my thigh, said, "Come here, Buddy", and that's all she wrote.

That's all I'm gonna write too cuz you're probably bored.

Ta ta

WTH?

This is Robin's way of cutting back...reusing gum.

With cigarettes being almost $5.00 a pack, I can think of other ways to cut back.

Let's see ... $5 x 3 x 365 = $5475.00 per year.

Maxxi Pad

Many of you know that Maxx was attacked by Bodi on Wednesday morning. He suffered a broken leg and is quite shaken up, but he is OK. We brought him home from the hospital last night. He has to stay put in a crate for a couple of weeks so the leg can heal.

BTW - Bailey would have been 13 today. Since I don't know Buddy's true birthday, we've always celebrated it on this date. I think some dog treats are in their future. We'll tell Maxx they're for him.

Chicken and Perfect Little Dumplins

It's ironic that I, who until recently thought that green olives actually grew with the little red pimentos in them, am posting recipes. Might wanna check the weather report, but I think maybe hell really did freeze over.

Anywho...

I'm not much of a measurer. I used chicken and broth, but my secret to the dumplings is using a can of reduced fat croissants - the kind you whack with a spoon to open. I cut each croissant in to 5 pieces, roll them in flour, and throw them in the mix. And - Voila - perfect little dumplins - like me. (Ok, I went too far. I do that sometimes. Frequently. A lot. All the time.)