Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Great Cheerleading Controversy.

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you know I am not big on getting involved with the soccer moms and their school related dramas.

I really don't give a shit about what is going on at the school unless they have beaten the hell out of my kid. And only then if the little shit didn't have it coming.

So when the caller ID flashed with the name of one of the class mothers, I knew I should have let it go to voicemail.

Instead I picked it up out of curiosity.

BIG mistake.

This classmate is a friend of my daughter and also a fellow cheerleader. Tryouts for the placement of the kids on the squad were last week. The girls had the option of making Varsity or Jr Varsity. All the girls would make the team but only the best would make Varsity.

My Princess came home last week and said she was disappointed that she didn't make varsity this year.

"Maybe next year" I said with a shrug and that was that.

Or so I thought.

The parent that called me was OUTRAGED that her kid didn't make the first string squad. And when I say OUTRAGED I mean vomiting pea soups, head turning completely around, pissed off hysterical. I'll call her POM or Pissed Off Mom.

Her first question was how I felt about it.

Honestly I said the other girls that made it were better than my daughter so I had no problem with their choices at all.

Apparently the wrong answer.

"Well, do you think it is FAIR that there were five girls in one class that tried out and only two make it!!!??" snapped POM.

Ummm, yeah?

She went on and on about self esteem and being disappointed and how it was funny how the cheerleader coach's own kid made Varsity but our kids did not. It was also brought up that the other girl that made the squad has a mother that donated money to the team to buy new uniforms and isn't THAT interesting.

Ummm, no?

The coach's kid has been cheering since she was five and is just terrific. The contributor's kid is also very active in the sport and is equally as good.

Honestly, POM's kid sucks. I mean really sucks. She flaps around like a bird, has no coordination and can't follow the cheers.

The Princess is definitely more coordinated but she doesn't have the confidence that the other two that made the first string possesses so I think they made a good choice.

POM had insisted on a meeting with the principal and the coach this morning and wanted me to back her up. Of course I told her that I have no intention of doing any such thing, I have no problem with any of this.

She said her daughter doesn't want to participate at all if she isn't first string.

I received a call on my way to work and the outcome of the meeting is the coach stood her ground and POM's kid quit.

What the hell kind of message is this sending to your kid lady? The world is a competitive place and every kid isn't going to excel at all things. Kids need to learn about disappointment and after the age of 8, I don't feel like all things need to be equal anymore. Kids should learn to compete and do their best. Things aren't always handed to you because you want them or you Mommy will bitch loudly about your emotional problems and how important this is to your self esteem.

I feel bad for this kid. She is going to be ill prepared for what the future has in store for her.

Monday, September 28, 2009

I Found The Man Of My Dreams On Craigslist!

I’m seeking a mature lady to fulfill my “sugamomma” fantasy.

- Must be physically able to have intercourse.
- Must have a house/car, because I have neither.
- Must have good hygiene/lubricant if unable to self-lubricate

Sexiness not required, but is a plus!

I will:
1) Enter your house in a manner you see fit.
2) I strip in a manner you see fit (as a courtesy I request no thongs)
3) I will remove your clothes in a matter you see fit (light may be required to be turned off)
4) I will take an anti-depressant to increase my stamina and to disconnect with reality (may or may not be required)
5) We will have sex for no less than 3 hours and no more than 6 (positions/speed/kissing will vary)
6) You cook me a hot plate of your choice (I will decide on the atire you’ll be wearing while cooking)
7) I leave.

IF this sounds like you don’t be timid on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I am not posting his contact information because I don't want one of you to snatch him away from me. After all, it is a once in a lifetime opportunity and those don't come around...well...but once in a lifetime.

I think once we meet I can talk him into wearing the thong. One can only hope.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

If I wrote a blind blog on another sight describing SCMs attributes, some of you might actually be jealous. My life’s lament is trying to find someone that has those same attributes but doesn’t smell like road kill, smoke like a chimney, has a temper that goes from zero to fucking insane in 2.3 seconds and threatens to kill me and himself when we separate for the hundredth time.

Everyone has their faults but a murder/suicide tends to cause more problems than forgetting to put out the garbage.

Not to mention the stupid shit he does but it is true that people can get used to anything and I am so accustomed to SCM fucking up whatever he attempts, it is really a high when he actually does something right!

Hey, we take happiness where we can get it.

When SCM and I live apart, I miss him. I miss the love and attention he gives me. I miss having the laundry done, and dinner cooked when I get home. I miss having the house picked up and a new plant in the front door flower pot each month to match the season. I miss him coming into my room to tuck me in no matter what time he drags his stinky ass home or who he was with that night. I miss him telling me how great I look no matter what I am wearing or if I have makeup on or not. I miss him buying clothes for me that are three sizes to small because he sees me the exact same way as the skinny clerk that helped him in the store. I miss getting flowers for no reason and well thought out gifts when there is an occasion.

I miss the “I Love You” texts and his friends telling me that all he talks about is how lucky he is that I am still his wife and haven’t signed the divorce papers. I miss him bragging about me. I miss the fact that when we go out to dinner after ten years he still treats it like a date, opening doors, ordering for me (He even pays now…shocking I know.)

Unfortunately, the bad outweighs the good which is why I really do need to move on and sign those papers. No, the bad doesn’t outweigh the good. The bad is just very very bad despite its infrequency. The bad is dangerous and frightening because that is what you get when you mix an under medicated bipolar with a temper tantrum.

I was totally ready to pack up and sign those papers with my last boyfriend but when he left, it just seemed pointless to go without the above (and the money he pays to live in the house). He had many of the same attributes when we were together but that wasn’t often enough to fill the gap. Maybe I am afraid to be alone but aren’t we all really alone when the day is done?

Dr. Todd is starting to mention me signing the divorce papers so that relationship is just about over as far as I can tell. There will be an ultimatum coming disguised as a conversation about his expectations and he will lose. Well, maybe we both will. However, I am not going to get involved with another man that I am settling for. Yes he is smart, and fun and attractive in a Woody Allen kind of way. But there isn’t any….spark….I know that tends to fade as time goes on however, it should be there in the beginning.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it, I never slept with him so now I am going on 7 months since I had sex. I am becoming a tad cranky. Even though SCM lives on the other side of the house, that journey would be a hell of a lot more complicated than just padding through the kitchen.

I wonder what a male prostitute goes for these days? Naaaa, it would just be my luck to end up with the guy from the cartoon.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Daughters Sons and Mom.

Happy Friday to one and all.

I am killing time before my son takes me to lunch.

And by take me I mean I pick him up at his work and pay.

But still, he does want to luncheon with his Mother and I have to give him points for that.

I was thinking about the difference between my son's and daughter's relationship with me the other day. My son is 11 years older than my daughter so I basically raised them at two entirely different times in my life.

My son and I have the same sense of humor, enjoy the same types of music and totally understand each other. When he was in high school he was proud of me and encouraged me to hang out with his friends when they were over. I was the "cool mom".

My daughter is embarrassed by the fact I even exist.

My son used to get out of the car at drop off at school, kiss me good bye and went on his merry way.

My daughter gives me an eye roll and a glare when I tell her to have a nice day.

My son never had secrets and I knew much more than I really wanted to know.

My daughter gossips on the phone with her friends behind closed doors in whispers.

My son always want to know what I think about every problem.

My daughter won't even tell me there IS a problem unless teacher phone calls or blood is involved.

Where ever I was going, my son wanted to be included.

My daughter gets on the phone within seconds to find an alternate to going to the store with Mom.

Did I change or are they just totally different?

I suspect it is a bit of both.

My Friday funny website is Awkward Family Photos. Check it out for a giggle.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I think I am going to quit my job and become a Walmart Greeter. I think the amusement value would justify the lack of a decent wage and benefits.

On most occasions, I avoid Wally World like the boil on the butt of mankind that it is. However, at 7am when the Princess finally remembers something due today that she was told to bring to school a week ago, choices are limited.

Her class is reading Charlie and The Chocolate Factory and they have an assignment to bring in various types of candy to create some kind of art project. My $10,000 yearly tuition at work. So off we go to slay the retail dragons in search of sugar covered faux oranges that can be used as a mouth or sun or weirdly shaped penis depending on the artist's vision.

I don't know why I continue to be shocked by the Walmart clientele. I know for a fact that normal people DO shop there on occasion but why are they never there when I am there? There is even a website that I have linked previously that has actual photographs of the typical walmart shopper. Yet, who would have thought that every one of them live within a two mile radius of my town?

Today there was actually a woman with a see through dress on line in front of me. Don't get too excited boys, this women was 400 pounds if she was an ounce. Her boobies were halfway down to her crotch and would have been all the way down if not for the mesh "dress" that was keeping them confined. She accessorized her look with black wedges tied around her calfs with white laces with smiley faces, white granny panties and a WWJD plastic bracelet.

You can't make this shit up.

Now several thoughts went through my mind.

1. Why wasn't this person stopped at the door and advised that this isn't a clothing optional establishment?

2. Does she really think she looks hot?

3. How does a lady of the evening make a living in this little podunk town or does she accept chickens and oranges in trade?

4. Where is the bleach aisle so I can buy some to bleach this image out of my head for all eternity?

but most importantly...

5. WHY oh WHY did I leave my camera in the car.

Have a rainbow Tuesday. Dr. Todd and I are doing veggie sushi for dinner whatever the hell that is. Wish me luck.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Dr. Todd

Is it possible I am falling for a tree huggin', peta lovin', vegan chuggin' guy?

Geez, how the hell did THIS happen?

I mean I am pretty liberal but there is liberal and there is bat shit over the top liberal extremist and this dude carries the flag in that parade.

However, one of the things I truly dig about him is his ability to share his views without coming across condescending or arrogant. That may be from teaching for 30 years or maybe he has mellowed since Bush was ejected from the throne but whatever the case, I am really enjoying actually talking to a guy for the first time in....I don't know how many years. I feel like I am back in high school spending hours talking on the phone and still having things to talk about when I have to hang up to get the circulation flowing back into my ears.

What really makes this guy awesome is he is so freakin' physically active. For some reason I have hooked up with basically sedentary guys in my last two relationships. I could just see the look on SCM or AJ face if I told them we were going to ride bikes around the park. Unless there was a titty bar or the promise of a blow job at the end, that wasn't happening. Our date last night consisted of Dr Todd meeting me at my new gym to work out, me following him back to his place for a dinner of twigs and wheat germ and then him loaning me a bike (an ex girlfriends? I didn't care) and going for a ride to watch the sun set.

I haven't jumped his bones yet. It is hard to feel sexy with sweat running down my armpits and my wet sweaty hair plastered to my head. If I am being perfectly honest, excessive perspiration isn't his best look either. We have plans to get our rabbit food out on Saturday night. If he allows me to consume a slab of charred animal flesh in his presence, he may just get lucky.


I am starting a new TGIF section to my blog. I am going to link a fun site for the week for you all to check out and get your weekend started with a chuckle. If you have a good one to recommend, lay it on us.

The weeks recommendation is You Suck At Craigslist. Have a great weekend.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

I do not hit my kids. It isn't that I don't believe in corporal punishment.

Honestly, I wouldn't mind holding down some of the monsters I have seen at the mall for their parents to beat the living shit out of them.

I just don't have it in me to inflict physical pain on another person. Emotional pain? Sure, I am an expert on that but I simply can't strike another person even if it is for "their own good".

I steer clear of giving an opinion when this debate comes up around me. As a former receptacle for whatever was close that my mother could throw at my head, I find I might be a little biased in this area.

My parents were from the spare the rod, spoil the child generation and they certainly went to the head of that class. We were hit with not only hands but hairbrushes, wooden spoons and whatever else could be hand held and sting like a muther when striking the skin.

As a forty something year old women with kids of my own, I can't help but think how entirely fucked up that was. We weren't particularly bad kids. Yes, we were loud and annoying but we were KIDS. The beatings were not to teach us a lesson but only so they could vent their frustration and anger.

Looking back I can only recall one incident were I remember why I was hit at all. But even that wasn't a lesson but because I was out too late and my mother sent my father out to look for me. The man probably didn't even know I was late but had to leave his comfy chair and miss the latest MASH episode to track down my curfew breaking ass.


Yeah...I knew I was fucked. I stood on the curb, heart pounding, knowing I was in mighty deep shit and praying for an asteroid to fall from the sky rendering my body unrecognizable. Oh who was I kidding. He would just beat the shit out of the remaining pieces.

As I stood there, I saw headlights and lifted my arm in a friendly little wave with a half smile hoping to defuse the situation.

Since he drove up on the curb and lawn chasing me with the car, it obviously didn't work. He threw the car into park, grabbed my arm and SLAP! right across the face.

Come to think of it, that punishment really did work. I was never late again...

Atleast when I knew he would be home.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

SCM went to the cardiologist yesterday to get cleared for work. Or so I thought.

"Guess what Chris, I am cleared to have sex. All the sex I want!"

Does he have a partner in mind because throwing him a pity fuck wasn't part of his rehab plan.

I can not say it isn't tempting. I haven't had the opportunity or inclination to ride a bucking bronco since this past March.

Wow...could that be right?

The downfalls of a long distance relationship. When they leave they take their penis with them.

Selfish bastards.

However, now that I am officially free, bumping uglies with SCM has a certain appeal. For one, it is convenient, I don't have to leave the house or change the sheets. For another, after 14 years, we know each well enough that there isn't any of that fumbling around trying to figure out what the other wants.

Not to mention he is still the best lover I ever had. Obviously great sex doesn't make a great relationship. I was very happy with above average sex with someone who bathed between sex sessions and knew a toothbrush wasn't for polishing work shoes.

I wonder what Florence Nightingale would do?

Monday, September 14, 2009

I decided to delete my boyfriend bitchfest blog. (Say that three times fast..I'll wait)

It was pointless and didn't make me feel better at all. What DOES make me feel better is taking out my resentment directly on him. I tried to find the comedy in the relationship but the only thing I could come up with is what a dolt I was for hanging around so long and complaining but not doing anything about it.

Quite frankly, it is no fun abusing myself for being a total idiot, being nasty instead of walking away and trusting someone with a history of being untrustworthy.

I think I'll stick to abusing SCM. He knows I do and actually laughs about it. Imagine someone being so appreciative that after what he put me through, I still care about him.

What a concept!

On a happier note, I found this site and it totally cracked me up this afternoon. Enjoy.

The Man Who Cried Wolf (conclusion)

Since my mother was so conveniently at the house by the time they took SCM away, I considered going straight to the hospital.

However, I pictured the long night ahead of sitting in that damn ER keeping the whiny ass company and procrastinated a bit.

Like two hours worth.

Okay, maybe it was only an hour and a half but whatever it was, it wasn't long enough.

My son had shown up and started pushing me to go see what was going on. I finally went when he snapped that if I don't give a shit, HE WOULD go.

Hmmmmmmmm that was tempting indeed but a little guilt goes a long away.

I showed up, they did the prerequisite picture taking and name badge crap in case I was there to break SCM out or something and showed me to his little ER cubby. He was on O2,heart monitors and was bored out of his mind.

Big surprise.

The nurse came in and he started saying how stupid he felt because nothing bothered him now and blah blah blah. He was very nice and said that it is always better to be safe than sorry.

Great, now the little fucker has permission to drag me down here every time he has indigestion. Can I sue the hospital for giving bad advice to a moron?

I stayed until about 5am. Never seeing a doctor and finally left telling SCM to call when he knows something but I needed to get ready for work.

And off I went.

SCM called about 9am and said the doctor was in and they decided to do an angiogram tomorrow morning.

What? Why?

Of course dumb ass has no idea and it seemed far to evil to jump his shit right than for not paying attention.

So I left work and headed for the hospital to try to talk to someone. I had them page the doctor but after two hours it became clear that he didn't plan on getting back to me. I returned to the nurses station and asked them if they have in the file why the angiogram is necessary.

She flipped open the file and there in big bold letters it said..

DX: Acute Myocardial Infarction.


The nurse explained that the test results came back which showed the cardiac enzemes consistent with heart damage as well as abnormalities on the EKG.

"Umm..thanks? Now could you please page the doctor again?"

I return to SCMs bedside and calmly inquired if anyone had told him he had a heart attack.

"Maybe. I am not quite sure what they were talking about."

I looked around the room trying to find something that I could use to kill him and get away with it but I came up empty.

"Don't you think you should have...I don't know...PAID ATTENTION?!"

The doctor finally called, explained the situation and had us watch the film on the procedure they were going to do the following morning. I inquired as to whether it was safe to wait another day and was told that SCM is wearing a nitropatch and it should be fine to wait.

Nitro patch?

"Hon, are you wearing a nitropatch?"

He pulls up his gown to show me a patch on his upper thigh.

"Didn't they tell you what that was?"

He responds that they probably did but he didn't remember.

Way to go to take charge of your health care, dude!

I think my biggest issue was I probably would have transferred SCM to a better hospital if I knew there was really something wrong with him. As annoying as he is I do need that phone and cable bill paid every month. When I inquired about having him moved I was informed that moving him could be dangerous.

While I was more than willing to take that chance, SCM was being a pussy and mentioned something about being afraid of death.

He stayed, Doctor, who could have gotten his degree by mail order for all we know, did his angiogram followed by an angioplasty and stint to clear the blockage.

And I am stuck with SCM who will milk this until I have finally had enough and tell him to fuck off.

The clock is ticking.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

We Interrupt This Program...

I am my own worst enemy.

You kids are not going to believe what a sucker I am.

Before I get into the story of my day, I will offer that I have a really great date last night. Surprisingly nice every though I wasn't really into it.

Dr. Todd (PH-D not MD) teaches at my son's university and I met him while I was feeding the little shit one afternoon. DT had asked me out a few times in the past month but I wasn't all that into it. He did have the extremely liberal thing going for him. That is actually how we met. I was explaining to my son the advantages and disadvantages of HC 3200 when he overheard and we all started talking. Anyway, he invited me to a faculty cocktail thingy for early evening and I went. I met a lot of interesting people, didn't embarrass myself by getting sloshed and was home safe and sound by 8:30pm. Best off my work clothes were total appropriate attire and I didn't have to go home and change. (Although I admit I did wear my best Anne Klein suit with a lower cut blouse and I changed from my wedges to pumps in the car.)
Yeah, I am getting lazy in my old age. I kidded him and inquired why he wasn't dating one of his 19 year old P.A.s and he offered that he saves those for grading papers and picking up his drycleaning.

I man who abuses his underlings is alright by me.

When he showed me to my car, I told him he could call me next week. Since he called at 11am this morning, I would say that Dr. Todd had a nice time too. Time will tell.

Okay, now to my story.

My daughter had a skating lesson at 12 today and I looked out the window and it was pouring rain. I contemplated blowing it off but she gave me the pouty lip and in the car we went. About a mile from our house there is a long stretch of road that starts at my subdivision, passes another and then is a mile of only cow and horse fields.

I started traveling and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that looked like a raccoon. When I peered again, I noticed it was not a critter but a dog and not only one dog but a bunch of them.

Running into the road.

Now this road is 55mph and is fairly busy during the day and I really didn't want these things to contribute to the daily collection of road kill the area displays.

First stupid thing:

I turned the car around, put my flashers on and got out in the pouring rain.

Second Stupid Thing:

I called to them.

Third Stupid Thing.

When three of them actually came to me, I corralled three wet stinky dogs into my car.

By this time traffic had stopped in both directions and people where getting out to help. The fourth dog which seems to be a brother of one of the others (they looked exactly alike) was caught by another woman and she said she would take it and find the owner.

That turns out to be the Fourth Stupid Thing because I should have kept those two together. I also think she probably has no intention of seeking the owner.

I brought them home, put them in the garage, alerted SCM and took the princess to her lesson.

Let me tell you a little bit about these dogs. One is a white beautifully groomed Pomeranian, the other and his missing brother are Papillons which are about 5 or 6 pounds each and the last which I think is a puppy looks like a small lab mix. They are all welled cared for by NO COLLARS. I hope they are microchipped but I can't think of a place to have that checked until Monday.

I put signs all over thinking that someone is frantically looking for these dogs and would call in no time. 8 hours later and nuttin'

Now I have five dogs in my house all fighting for alpha status and hogging my couch.


Friday, September 11, 2009

He Broke His Heart (Cont)

The EMT hunks informed me that they would be taking SCM to the hospital which I was told is the standard with chest pain complaints.

I guess if THEY tell the patient to suck it up and take a tums and SCM croaks, I would soon own an ambulance.

Out comes the stretcher, on and strapped down goes SCM and out the door they go.

I was informed they are taking him to the nearest facility with a heart floor which fortunately, was just a couple of miles away. Unfortunately, the hospital sucks goat cheese in all other respects but whiners can't be choosers.

While the ambulance is still out front, I call my son, explain the situation and ask him to come over to sleep and watch the Princess. He panicked and said he would arrive as soon as possible.

I informed him to take his damn time because I do not relish the thought of sitting in the Emergency Department for the next few hours. Besides, I needed to dry my hair.

We all have our priorities.

Just as I hang up the phone, my mother frantically bursts through the front door. She sees me, runs to check on Anna and seeing it isn't the two people she actually likes in that ambulance, she breaths a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong with (SMC) now?"

Having him call 911 isn't a common event but his complaining incessantly about every ache and pain was so this wasn't a huge shocker to Mother either.

"Mom, how did you know there was something going on here?"

Mom lives around the block but I couldn't imagine even in the unlikely event that she saw the flashing lights that she would suspect it was coming from our cul de sac.

"The neighbor across the street called me and said someone from this house was being brought out on a stretcher," she stated.

Whaaaa? The Mrs Kravitz of the Shady Pine subdivision had been peering through her window at 1am, had looked up my mother's phone number and called her in the middle of the night. I am sorry but I didn't appreciate this one bit. My mother kept going on about how thoughtful it was. Well, yeah, maybe for her but in my mind I was just had my privacy invaded and am having to inform a person that I may not have chosen to inform.

Would this piss you off or am I overreacting?

(Part 3 this weekend)

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Isn't This What Blogs Are For?

Instead of continuing to rag on my ex friend through emails, I have decided to start a blog about why he sucks. I am sure this will quickly spawn another blog titled Why Does Christine Pick Such Awful Men but I'll get to that down the road.

I don't usually compare men but thinking about it, SCM was a lot more fun to write about simply because he could laugh at himself and some of the stupid shit he did. AJ (stands for average Joe) never admitted to be wrong, never spent the time to consider anything I thought or said and quite frankly, finding the humor in this train wreck is going to be a challenge.

Hey but I am up for it. I did the husband and now kids, let me start telling you about The 101 Reasons Why I Hate My Ex Lover.

I have been advised to keep the new bitch fest invitation only and I agree that this is a good idea. Send me an email at lifecorrection@gmail.com if you're interested in this unrelationship from hell.

Part two of the SCM saga will be posted here shortly.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

SCM is still being nice to me G-d Damn It! How am I supposed to make fun of him when he is so damn appreciative. I am horrified that this new attitude will continue forever and I may be stuck with him with no excuse to dump his ass.

Say it ain't so.

I will take you back dear kids to early last week. I called home from the office as I always do to see how the princess's day went and what shit was SCM up to. She informed me that Daddy was laying down and she was doing her home work.

Okay, typical day. SCMs napping after utilizing all his energy to drive the mini van over to the school to pick up the kid. Since he required this long rest daily, the process of battling soccer moms for the best place in line really must be exhausting. I told her I would bring home dinner and hung up. When I arrived home, roasted chicken and potato salad in hand, SCM was awake and watching TV.

"I don't feel that great," he said.

Now there's a shocker. I wonder if he thinks he has a brain tumor again or his appendix is about to burst? Maybe it is simply being lethargic from sleeping 18 hours out of every 24. I offer no sympathy at all.

He whines louder. "No, seriously, I have been having this weird pain in my chest since yesterday on and off. I think it may have been the raw onions I put in my lunch salad the last two days".

Take a tums I offer ever the loving and helpful wife.

The evening continues, the kid is sent to bed, dishes are cleaned up and SCM returned to complain about pain and asking what he should do.

"Do you want me to take you to the damn hospital" I snapped. "I'll just wake up someone to watch the kid while you get told to stop eating raw onions on an empty stomach. Don't worry, I can work on no sleep while I sit up all night and pat your hand waiting for them to send your ass home." Whaaa Poor Me Poor Me.

When he says his pain is radiating down his left arm, I concede that maybe there is something going on.

So I do what every one does in this situation. I google it.

Warning Signs of a Heart Attack.

Chest discomfort. Most heart attacks involve discomfort in the center of the chest that lasts for more than a few minutes, or goes away and comes back. The discomfort can feel like uncomfortable pressure, squeezing, fullness, or pain. CHECK

Discomfort in other areas of the upper body. Can include pain or discomfort in one or both arms, the back, neck, jaw, or stomach. CHECK

Shortness of breath. Often comes along with chest discomfort. But it also can occur before chest discomfort. NOPE

Other symptoms. May include breaking out in a cold sweat, nausea, or light-headedness. LIGHTHEADED CHECK
(Personally I think that is a normal state for him but whatever. I concede the check)

"Let me take a shower and if you're no better after that, we will make some calls," I said.

Now some of you kids may think I am insensitive to think about showering when SCM feels he is having a heart attack but I am still of the mind set that he will burp and fart a few times and will be fine. After listening to his complaints all night, I didn't want to have to wake up early the following day to shower before work.

I stepped into the shower, washed my hair, conditioned, loffahed, shaved, other typical self cleaning behavior when I saw flashing lights reflecting on the wall from the bathroom window.

W.T.F.? Of course my first thought was that something was going on with the neighbors. I threw a robe on and went out into the living room only to be greeted by an EMT opening up my front door.

"Fire Department. Someone call for an ambulance"?


SCM comes out of his room clutching his chest, chewing on an aspirin and swigging a Corona. The heart attack remedy his on line gaming friend advised when he told him he thought he was having a heart attack.

It soon becomes clear that when I got into the shower, SCM was hit with terrible pain that made him fall to his knees so he called 911. He offers that he feels stupid and he feels much better now.

So I stand in my robe with my hair dripping down my back surrounded by 5 rather hunky fireman and EMT workers who are trying to assess the situation. Meanwhile my daughter is sound asleep in bed not hearing a thing.

To Be Continued...

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Well, SCM is home. Unfortunately, he just put a nice message about me on face book so I can't make fun of him yet. SHIT!

So I am home after a three night stint at the hospital. My caregivers were awesome.I have my wife to thank profusely for not only keeping up my health insurance, but for being there at every step, supportive and loving to the nth dgree. I Love you Christine!!

With him driving me crazy in the house 24/7 it won't be long before his nice words are replaced with bitching and moaning. Then I can abuse him guilt free here. :-)

Enjoy the long weekend kids.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

SCM had a heart attack Tuesday night. I guess he does have a heart afterall...

He is fine now. Minimal damage. Had a stint put in and was advised to maybe stop lighting one cigarette off another and drinking the bacon grease out of the pan. Although I am pushing for them to keep him a couple of weeks, he should be released the day after tomorrow.

Of course I will tell the entire story as soon as I can. You know any issue that has SCM in the middle is bound to be entertaining. Come to think of it, I may be good for three or four entries on this one incident alone!

The man really does come in handy on occasion.

You didn't actually expect me to be sensitive about the situation, did you?

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

It was a dark and stormy night. Isn't that the way all stories are supposed to begin? If one begins a story It was a bright and sunny day it doesn't quite have the same oomph does it?

Fortunately, last night was indeed a dark and stormy night.

I was sitting in my living room pissed because the storm kept knocking out the cable and I couldn't get through this week's episode of True Blood without rebooting every four minutes. Can't I disappear into a world of vampires, shape shifters and telepaths for one damn hour!? Shit.

Somehow in the labyrinth of my techno shit, the Internet is connected in some way to the cable so fucking around on line wasn't an option either. I could send irritating little text messages to my ex boyfriend but that loses its novelty real fast when he refuses to engage in my bullshit.

So what's a gal to do?

Since I still had the lights, I decided I may as well be productive and gather up the clothing I wanted to drop at Goodwill this week. I emptied the drawers onto the bed and began sorting into three piles.

1. Awesome, I forgot I had that.
2. Charity or why the hell did I ever think that would look good on me?
3. No one would take this shit even if it is free.

What about underwear I thought? Does one give panties and bras to Goodwill or is that something that automatically goes into the trash when you are tired of them. I've always wondered that and have chosen to discard those articles of clothing rather than risk a worker holding them up by the corners and proclaiming...

"We don't TAKE used panties here".

How humiliating.

As I was sorting, I found a velvet lined box containing the things from my life I have wanted to save . Generally I am not a saver. I have a cedar trunk where I fling kids stuff in case they turn out to be savers but as for me...basically everything goes into the trash. Even the stuff I know I will probably end up buying again some day.

I open the box and I am slammed with the unmistakenable scent of a younger Christine. Love letters, cards that came with flowers, little trinkets given by old boyfriends that were no longer appropriate to keep out, the garter from my wedding to Jimmy's dad and a few petals of the bride bouquet. I was torn whether to unfold the letters fearing opening up old wounds with the pages. I thought about how this should be no big deal. How all this was in the past and it couldn't hurt me now. However, if the scent of the box hit me in the center of my being, what kind of damage could these memories do?

I tucked it back under some clothes for another day. A day I feel a little bit stronger.