Saturday, February 28, 2009

I'm in mourning.

I bet you all read that and thought that FCBMom died. I assure you, she is just as stubborn as her son and granddaughter (The Punk) and is hanging in there with her claws fully extended. They had to put a tube in her to feed her and she was officially declared incompetent, but she is a regular source of comedic relief for the nursing staff. They think she is a hoot! I think she makes for good blog fodder.

I was at the hospital the other day and we were listening to the doctor explain the course of action they were now taking since the tube had been put in and then all of the sudden in mid-sentence he goes, "Oh look! A dolphin!"

Way to have an ADOS(Attention Deficit Ooh Shiny!) moment there, Doc!

FCBMom's hospital (she thinks she is in a hotel somewhere in Illinois) room is overlooking the river. Beautiful view. If I were going to slowly waste away in a hospital room, I would want this view. There are 2 large picture windows and you can see all of downtown from them. She also has a great view of one of the major bridges that runs through the middle of this city. At rush hour the other day she was looking out the window at the bridge and all the traffic and said, "Wow! Look at all those ducks in a row!"

Yeah, she cracks us up. She has yet to remember my name, and has called me Jan, Jane, Sarah Jane, and Sugar Plum. The nurses ask who I am and she looks at them and depending on that day's lucidity level, she either says I am her daughter, daughter-in-law, neighbor, friend, yet another nurse, some strange man(???), or this girl that keeps coming to see me even though I don't know who she is. The nurses all know me so it isn't a problem, but when I was there yesterday there were some new people staffed and they asked who I was. I told them who I was and they looked at me puzzled because FCBMom was croaking that she didn't know me and why was I in her room? I then said I was the mother of her granddaughter. Well, that registered on both their faces as they said you are Punk's mom? Yep. That's me. The oven that produced the bun! (facepalm) They went on to explain that in her more lucid moments that is all she talks about is her granddaughter. I was all warm and fuzzy inside. At least I did something right by this woman.

I was visiting her yesterday and happened to interrupt lunch as I walked in. I heard her tell the nurse to "stop feeding me that other man's food!" I knew then that the visit was going to produce a few blog worthy points. The other one being, as I was walking out the door, "I feel like the devil. Stop chasing me around, already!!" Sure will, FCBMom. Anything you say.

So anyway, the original reason for this post before I got off on a tangent was that I was in mourning. I am down to my last 2 bottles of coffeecrack and I am already dreading the withdrawals I am going to have. I have been using it with this great chocolate coffee that I had found, and the taste was scrumdiddlyumptious. Or supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.*** I can't decide which.

I was going to put something in here about being cremated(get it? Coffeemate? Creamer?) but the joke just didn't jump out at

Also...something else that has been bothering me. I watch Disney channel faithfully every morning with the Punk at 7:30am so we can catch the latest episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She loves that show. I love the one after it. It's a Claymation Short called Shaun The Sheep. It's a riot. If you are ever up at 7:50ish am Eastern time turn on the TV and catch an episode. I know it's intended for kids, but it has just enough adult innuendo to keep the grown-ups entertained. OK. Shameless plug over.

So what has been bothering me is the dress code and relationship dynamics of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Mickey is shirtless. Donald isn't wearing any pants. They both have girlfriends that are dressed like cartoon hookers complete with Ho Shoes. Goofy is a Dog. That is fully dressed, unlike his friends. He is romantically linked to a female cow. Yet she has HORNS like a male steer. Pluto is also a dog, but is Mickey's pet, walks on all fours and is completely naked. WTF? Pete, who we all know from the earlier stuff from our childhoods, used to be the villain or token baddie. Now is is a wimped out pussy version of himself that is a sometime friend of the gang. Almost like that kid in the neighborhood that no one liked to play with, but your mom made you anyway, because that was the nice thing to do. Only Mickey has a car. That comes out of a garage that has to be unzipped. (Don't even get me started on this since every time we come home my daughter tells me to unzip the garage door.) There is a flying Mouse Ear thing called Toodles that carries a plethora of whacked out tools to solve all the problems the gang comes across in course of an episode. Like when you can't seem to reach the door of your rocket ship that you store in your secret missile silo in the backyard? Well just holler for Toodles to deliver you a pogo stick so you can hop right on up there. How about when you get another pesky pink elephant stuck up in the tree in your yard? Toodles is right there with a peanut for you, but not before he makes your bitch-ass dance the "Shake your, shake your peanut" dance.

I could keep going, but at this are probably either bored or laughing too hard to read much anymore, anyway. So I will wrap this up. By all means, if anyone has any logical reasoning or explanations, please feel free to comment away.

I'm back off to the hospital for another visit anyway. I wonder what my name will be today?

***I'll be damned if blogger spell check didn't put my ass in its place by telling me I spelled that wrong and offered up the correct spelling of that word.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Plucky Random Ticker Tidbits.

The good news? I finally thought up a title to this post after mulling it over all day in my head and muttering to myself throughout the grocery store that made more than one person give me a dirty look and a wide berth.

The bad news? I doubt I will ever top the title "And then? She just licked the floor." Reality trumps imagination around here every.damn.time.

The good news? I saved the world today.

The bad news? My impact of using my aluminum reusable water bottle from Disney and FINALLY remembering to bring along the damn grocery bags AND make sure they went in the store with me instead of sitting uselessly in my van, probably won't make much of a dent in any lifetime of anyone I know in any near future. Still with me? Good. Moving along...

The good news? My new doctor is a young, hot, cute, funny, charming, caring, considerate, funny, non-hand-shaking-but-who-can-blame-him-I-have-MRSA, cute,, you get the idea. As he was checking me over today, he was looking up my nose with a little light thing and actually said, "How much do you envy me my job right now, hmm?"

The bad news? It hurts like a bitch to laugh while someone has a light shoved up your sore nose.

The good news? I doubt this will be a clandestine affair where I cheat on my regular doc by going to a younger, hotter, funnier doc on the sly for all my little bumps and bruises. I really like the new guy. He is computer literate and yet still managed to "doctor" me.

The bad news? The longest relationship I have ever had outside of family has come to an end. I had been seeing my "Savior" since I was 18 and at 19 he was the one that found my heart defect. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for him. 15 years of putting up with the medical malfunction that is Persnickety Ticker deserves a medal or something. I'm just sayin'.

The worse news? I had to end the relationship because getting an appointment with him was like a homeless junkie trying to get a reservation at a four star restaurant. Every time I called, the office manager (who didn't like me much and who made my life more difficult than it had to be all because I called her on some misinformation once about FMLA and even complained to her boss and then she was all like the hateful, nasty cheerleaders in high school that made ugly faces at me, talked bad about me and made me miserable with their hoity-toity attitudes like their shit didn't stink and whoa did I just shoot off on a tangent there can we say unresolved issues coupled with ADD sorry 'bout that I'll steer back to the original thought) would inevitably answer like I had a flagged account and would tell me they were completely booked and she couldn't squeeze me in, and I should just go to the ER. I was told last Thursday that there were no appointments and they would be closed on Friday due to their computers being down for maintenance. (Like there was no way a doctor or a nurse could treat without their damn computer, call me old fashioned but I remember when the whole fucking practice was computerless.)

Ahem. I found out Saturday while I was in the ER that my brother in law had been to the doctor on Friday. Oh? So they were open, eh?


The good news? I am breaking out of a rut and maybe a fresh pair of eyes will have some better ideas to help me get healthier.

The bad news? I have to start all over again with the explaining and the paperwork and the argh and the frustration of getting to know someone new.

The good news? A complete stranger called me "Plucky" today. I took it as a compliment even if it wasn't meant as one.

The bad news? I had to stop typing this to go fix dinner and eat and I kinda lost my groove.

The good news? I am on enough antibiotics to kill the plague according to the funny new doctor.

The bad news? I am taking upwards of 12 pills and sometimes more a day just to get rid of whatever this crud is. Yeeaughck. Yes that's a word. You people are vocabulary junkies and I am just runny on empty here at the moment. Yes I said runny. Not running. I was trying to make a subtle joke there but when I proofed I thought no one would get it. Eh. Blame the meds.

The good news? My bread and eggs didn't get crushed, for once, under my milk jug.

The bad news? I had to bag my own groceries much to the chagrin of the umpteen people waiting behind me in line. But secretly I was laughing on the inside because I was doing it slowly just to irritate people.

The good news? I didn't get into any car accidents today.

The bad news? People in my town have just stopped caring about how badly they are driving because they are too damn busy talking on the phone while speeding up to pass me only to jump in front of me to slow down to 10 miles under the speed limit. Oh for the love of GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!

The good news? I am almost done.

The bad news? I got one more. Don't get your panties in a twist.

The good news? My little Punk went to spend the weekend at my older sister's house while I was all indisposed with the plague.

The bad news? I think we left not only her brain, but her common sense and her potty training skills at my sister's. And I don't even want to attempt to drive back across town to go look for them.

On that note, I am out of here. I need to clean up the tornadic disaster that is my 5 year old.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

And then? She just licked the floor.

Having had the plague that is this effing cold for 6 weeks now, I am completely miserable. I couldn't feel anymore like shit than if I dropped out of the hindquarters of a dung beetle. I think I said that already in another post, but hey, I go with what I feel. Having returned home early this morning from a visit to the ER to have my severely infected with possibly MRSA nose that is swollen to 3 times its normal size looked at, I collapsed into bed where I got almost no sleep. Damn morphine. I will sleep for 10 minutes and lay awake for an hour. Plus? Itchy EVERYWHERE. Damn side effects.

But enough about me, this is a little story about the Punk.

Having had a snotty nose all week, we have been trying to get her to take medicine to make the snots stop pouring out of her nose. Because she wipes it across her face. And into her hair. That is of course only if mommy's shirt is not readily available to use as a tissue. No kidding, this kid will come seek me out to give me a "hug" as a ruse to just wipe her snotty germy excess all over my clean shirt. Because I am always wearing a clean shirt due to the fact that she just snotted up the last one and I had to change. Ugh.

So the medicine that we have found works best with her is those thin strips that instantly dissolve. One second on her tongue and a gulp of water and everyone is happy. Well, except for the resentful glares I get the rest of the day along with the accusations of "Look what you did!" while pointing to her mouth. So on Thursday, I took her to school after her therapy and she was just a snotty mess because we were running late that morning and I had forgot to dose her up. I stopped into the nurse's office on the way to her classroom and asked them if the Benadryl that I had left there for her skin issues would also clear up her nose. They said sure and went straight to the cabinet and pulled one out for me. Now these are the little "spoon" type dispensers that you just open and squirt into their mouth. Sitting in the office at the time of this 2 school nurses and 2 student nurses from the local college. This office is the size of a large closet. It was cramped.

Oh for the love of TODDLER TANTRUMS!!

She was already blubbering because she knew I was going to try to give her medicine. She was just upset that I had delivered her to school instead of to Grandma's bedside. She was completely over dramatic because...she had an audience. Period. I'm telling you now this kid is going to win an Oscar before she is 7.

I grab her, wrestle her to the floor (while all four medical type people stared at me) and tried to squirt the medicine down her throat. She fought like a feral cat trying to avoid a bath. This went on for several minutes while I tried to dose her (Absolutely NO help from the medical people that just sat and watched like we were some type of Broadway show or train wreck in progress.) and when I finished the last squirt of medicine....


Presumably to get the medicine taste out of her mouth. Now personally, there are other ways of accomplishing this...but her? Going for the most disease and germ laden option was the only way to truly protest to the utmost degree, the indignity and WRONGNESS of making her take something that might actually make her feel better. She could have opened every doorknob in the whole school with her mouth and been more sanitary than licking the nurse's office floor. ::shudder::

The good news is? She promptly puked into the trash can right after that all happened. The better news? The stunned look on the student nurses faces after the whole episode. I had to giggle. That'll teach 'em to want to enter the field of being a school nurse. Hah! The bad news? I got enough Benadryl in her to make her sleep most of the day. So school was pretty much a wash that day. I went home looking like a used Kleenex.

And that is a little peek into the drama that is my 5 year old's life. My pain meds are kicking in along with something else that is making me sleepy(damn side effects), so I am off to bed to go heal up some more. Thanks everyone for all the bloggy love I get in the comments, it means so much to me.

Til the next fiasco...

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

I promise I won't let the cookies eat the cats on your ceiling.

I am so tired I could sleep for a week. I couldn't feel more like shit than if I dropped out of the ass of a dung beetle. Do dung beetles even have asses? Do moths have balls?

Anyway. Been doing my share of FCBMom duty at the hospital. (Could someone please page the Universe and let it know that I am not the heartless bitch it thinks I am? Also, could Karma please be CC'd on that memo as well? Ktnx.) I have been running myself ragged between my regular family duties and trying to take care of everything else that keeps popping up in my life. Today isn't going to be any less hectic. I just caught a break today because I was able to put the Punk on a bus and not have to deal with 15 year old attitude coming out of a 5 year old mouth. I thought I would give y'all an update while I enjoyed my morning dose of caffeine and waited for FCB to rise from the dead so we can get going to the lawyers.

While visiting with the FCBMom, she is providing me with lots of giggles as well as frustration. As to be expected with a stroke. The other night was a particularly hallucinogenic one for her. Blame it on the meds or her condition, but she was hilarious. She was staring blankly up at the ceiling and I asked her what she was looking at. (She blanks out on us and sometimes sleeps with her eyes open. Creepy.) She said she was worried that the cookies (I brought her cookies to try to get her to eat something, ANYTHING!) were going to eat the cats that were all over her ceiling. I couldn't help but start giggling. She looked at me, and in a moment of lucidity, she said, "Oh my! What did I just say? I must be losing my mind!"

I just smiled and told her to go with it. Between the drugs and the stroke she should just lay back and enjoy the show while it lasts.

Within a few minutes she started brushing the blankets and asked me to help her get all the puppies and bugs off of her bed so she could sleep. I told her I thought we had seen enough animal planet for one night and I was turning the TV off so nothing else would come out and bother her for the evening.

My reward for this heroic gesture? She reached out to touch my face while I was straightening her blankets and told me that she wished I was her daughter.


As I was leaving and telling her to get some sleep and I would be back in the morning to help her eat breakfast, she warned me to make sure I watered the cookies or they would wither and die.

Who knew?

So that is one of many funny little tidbits I have to share. I am sure there will be more to come since she is going to be in the hospital for at least 6 weeks if she lives that long.

If you are looking for more funny, go check out my other blog that I share with Feisty and some Crazy Lady. There is a new post up that made me spew chocolate coffee this morning. Just what I needed to start the day!!

Friday, February 13, 2009

I'm allergic to clothes.

Or my house. Or maybe just my room. It could even just be FCB's fault. When I am at the hospital or in my car or anywhere but home? Not itchy.

When I get home or overnight while I sleep? ITCHY!!!

I don't know what it is. I have been Googling for days. There are some scary-serious itchy causing things out there.

I am convinced I have all of them and I am dying.

Meanwhile. While not at home and not itching, I am spending lots of time at the hospital.

I am not the patient this time.

FCB's (that is Fat Cranky Bastard to any newbies) mother is in the hospital. She has been down for weeks. His sister didn't think to bother to call and tell us until the hospital lost her mother.

Let me say that one more time for those in the cheap seats in the back or anyone that just did a WTF double take. THE HOSPITAL LOST HER. FOR FIVE HOURS!

A bedridden woman, nay heart patient, that had had at least one stroke. They transferred her from the hospital on the southside of town to the hospital downtown. Because they want to do surgery on her. Her artificial heart valves are infected with a bacteria you get from your mouth (Think toothache, bleeding gums...I have to be very cautious of this stuff myself.) and they need to go in and replace these valves on a 75 year old stroke victim. I am sure there is a gaggle of cocky cardiologists and surgeons that think they can pull this off but they are out of their ever loving ego maniacal minds.

So we got this call that FCB's mom was missing in action and was last seen and heard from at 4pm. We got the call at 8pm. I called downtown to try to locate her. First call? No-help-Nancy decided I was crazy because I was trying to argue with her that FCBMom had not been discharged. Second call. More arguing with a slightly more polite Martha that "Mom" had not been discharged but had in fact be transferred that afternoon by ambulance. They can't find her in the system, therefore, she isn't there.

Third call. Pat. I love Pat. She was so pleasant and helpful I want to bear her children. She said she would do anything to help find my "mother" even if she had to wander the halls calling out her name. And she found her. At 9pm. She was in a "holding cell" in an area that is used mostly in the day. Lovely.

We made it up to the hospital and found her in the "holding cell" where they had stuck her. She couldn't finish most of her words or any of her sentences. She couldn't form a complete thought. Her left arm was shaking violently and her face was drooping severely on the left side. We yanked a nurse over. She said that "mom" was a new patient and they hadn't received any info on her yet. We told the nurse that it looked like she was having a stroke and would it be just hunky dory with them if we wheeled her down to the ER so they could get a look see? The woman (will all the love, sunshine, and puffy rainbows in her heart, I'm sure) said she would send over a doctor. 15 minutes, and a challenging round of charades later, a doctor showed up. He said that they were processing her as we spoke and that her 9?! doctors would get together to decide what to do with her the next day. He proudly (oh for cryin' out loud, already!) said he would be the guy to coordinate everything. We inquired as to whether he was aware she was either having a stroke or had had one quite recently and he said that he was aware of an old stroke but not any new ones (Just look at her, you SMUG FUCKTARD!) and that he would have to look into it. (Um...yeah. You just do that Doogie House-er.)

We were then told that since she was in a "holding area" we weren't going to be able to visit long, but that they should have her in a room by the next day sometime. WTF??? We left. We were pissed. We drove across town to confront FCBSis and find out what she knew. It ended up being a middle of the night discussion on the front porch about the division of assets. (Y'all mind your shoes since the kids seem to be throwing dirt on "mom's" grave already.)

Went back to the hospital the next day. All three of us "kids" and the Punk to boot. The woman in the bed was just plain old Grandma. She was talking fine and her face was OK and she wasn't deathly gray anymore. Yay! She was coherent and lucid and seemed to be feeling better. But as time slipped by she slipped away again. Three hours after getting there she was back into a post stroke comatose state. (Weird.) One doctor came in and discussed what they were planning. FCB and FCBSis were sitting there like lumps with confuzzled expressions. I talked to the doctor about what was going on and what we could expect. I also informed him that while she was awake and lucid she demanded that she didn't want any surgery and to just let her go. He said she did have another stroke (no kidding) and he blathered about surgery this and surgeon that. I stopped him short. Nuh-uh. Not going to happen. He seemed at a loss for anything else to talk about so he left. Meanwhile the lumps were discussing the best way to legally cover their asses. Get the will. Get the other paperwork. Make sure you have the will. Are we ready to leave yet? Make sure you get the will. Lets get out of here now that the doc is gone and our mother is practically in a coma. Don't forget about that will. (Um...I think you got a little dirt on your shoes there. Want a shovel so you can join in at this point?)

I went back today. She was only lucid about 50% of the time. She thought I was her son, daughter, FCBex-wife, church friend, nurse, and someone else that only she knows. There was one moment there in the end before I had to leave to come home that she grabbed my hand, called me by my first name, and asked me to make sure I took care of myself. (Dammit that made me cry.) I had to leave to come home and feed my child and get some rest.

I will be there tomorrow. FCBSis said she is too old and tired to keep schlepping back and forth to the hospital. FCB is coping the only way he knows how by signing up for more overtime at work. I will hold this woman's hand as she slowly dies. She is not related to me other than being my child's grandmother. But I just couldn't bear to see her die alone. So I may not be around so much until this is over.

At least when I am there I don't itch like when I am here at home. HIVES the size of really naughty hickeys I tell ya!! Imma go lotion up and head to bed for some rest now. Cuz I am double-dog-dead-assed-tired at this point.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Happy Groundhog Day!

Or at least that is what it seems like around here. Same day...slight differences. And also? No plucky comic relief from Bill Murray. I am not even learning to play the piano. I am, however, waking up every morning to get my coffee (cuz I am not human without it) and this morning? I managed to aim for the trash can with yesterday's grounds and completely miss and get it all over the floor. Dammit Bill! Where are you? Or at least Phil? Anyone? Hellooooo?

So after that was cleaned and the coffee pot was cleaned and the chocolate coffee was brewing I started my day...well...kinda. I was intercepted by the FCB before I had even the first drop of the sweet nectar and he was all nag, nag, nag, nag, nag, what's up with the full body hives the size of half-dollars? Oh..and nag. He should know better. I am unbridled evil before I get my caffeine. I just think he wants to die at this point.

"I don't know why I am covered in hives," I whined. "It must be something I am having an allergic reaction to."

"That looks painful. You should do something about that," he nagged.

"Grumble, grumble, grumble, where the fuck is a baseball bat when you need one, grumble grumble, isn't that damn coffee done yet, grumble."

So same day (been sick with the plague that the nieces blessed me with for days) and for all that I was itchy for the last few days now I am all hive-y and look like hell. With coffee grounds stuck to my feet. That I am randomly spreading throughout the house. Much to the chagrin of the FCB neat freak. (hehe) So hopefully I will get this day right eventually so I can start on tomorrow. Cuz that would rock my Croc socks off!

Couple of highlights that have made this week different, was a double doctor visit yesterday. Punk had her annual physical yesterday morning and she was such an uncommonly good girl for that, and then we went to have a sonogram of her kidneys in the afternoon. That was interesting. She was behaving so well it made me think I had accidentally brought the wrong child home from Disney. The tech told her to lay down on the table and that I needed to help her. She was already on the table by the time the tech finished her sentence. Then the tech said she needed to put some warm jelly on Punk's tummy. Punk yanks her shirt up and points to her belly button and says, "Here's where you put the glue!"

The tech started the sonogram with the bladder. Punk was was all, "Can I see? Can I see inside my body? Please? I want to see inside my body!" The tech turned the monitor and showed Punk her full bladder. Told her that was where the pee-pee was hiding.

To a five year old that thinks hide and seek is the bestest game EVER!! this was just the right thing for that woman to tell my daughter. A subsequent scan of Punk's kidneys and a description that those were the pee-pee factory and the bladder was the hiding place where the pee-pee hides before it come out to go home to the potty got my daughter all giddy with excitement that she was seeing inside her body and now knew the secret hiding place of the sacred peeps.

This was the conversation that followed. For the rest of the evening.

"Mommy? Did you see my body? Did you see inside my body? I got glue on my tummy. I know where the peeps are hiding Mommy! Do you like my bracelet? (Hospital band) I like my bracelet. It's white. Peeps are yellow. Did you see my pee-pee in my body? I feel all better now. Are you going to the doctor next, Mommy? Can we see inside your tummy? Hey tummy? I know you are hiding my peeps. Can my peeps come out now? (All the while having this discussion with her bellybutton.) Mommy? I think I got glue on my back. Mommy? Am I going to stick to things now? That glue was warm. My body is AWESOME! Did you see inside my body? I got a factory in there. The peeps are hiding in there. Do you think they want to come out, Mommy? I gotta go potty. (SO GO!) Look, look! Mommy? I went peeps! They aren't hiding anymore! Do you think the factory is going to make more peeps? I want to see in my body again. Can we go see in my body again? ($$$) I want to get glued again. That was fun. Just no more shots, OK? Mommy? The next time you can get the shots. I love my bracelet. I love my body. I love you, Mommy. I love my factory. I love my peeps. I love my potty. Can we do it again tomorrow, Mommy?"

Uh, yeah. Tomorrow. Can't wait.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Are you just here for the cake?

Cuz my stats went through the roof after I posted some cake. No wonder CakeWrecks gets so much traffic. The cake must be addictive or a controlled substance or something. You guys need to admit when you have a problem. Trust me, it's for the best.

I will get around to posting about my birthday Disney trip. I just need to get in a better mood before I do so it doesn't come out all bitter and vile. Let's just say for now, the highlight of my birthday was the trash can that serenaded Happy Birthday to me after I fed it a Mountain Dew bottle. But if you are looking for a great Disney story, go check out my bloggy friend Johnny Virgil. It seems there are things about fruit bats that I didn't know and was pretty much OK with not ever knowing.

I got lots of facebook love on my BD but not the first single phone call. From anyone. I am working through my feelings on that. I have already talked to one friend, and you know who you are, and we are all cool. But to the other friend? If I treated you the way you have been treating me lately? We most assuredly wouldn't be friends. Isn't it great that I am so forgiving and such a doormat that I lay there and take it? Just letting you know ahead of time that the day will come when you will need me to be at your beck and call and I won't be. That day will be very soon. Consider yourself bitten.

Sorry you had to read that but I had to get that out. My blog. My soapbox. My feelings. I'm done.

To top it all off in the news department on the home front, FCB emptied my Coke bottle piggy bank while I was gone and threw it away. He then banked all the money save for 5 bucks for my 5 year old. He then paid HIS bills with it. I discovered this last night. I was upset. He said he thought the Coke bottle belonged to him. I told him he knew damn well that it didn't and that he just stole from me. He called me many a choice name and then told me to get out of his sight. Since I caught some germs from my family and I wasn't feeling well anyway I went to bed. I awoke to him making me breakfast. That was his apology. Then his sister called to tell us that FCB's mother, the grandmother to my child, is in the hospital with walking pneumonia. She has also stopped eating. She is giving up and trying to die. I have nothing against the woman, and have tried for years to get her to like me, and for that matter, my child. She thinks I am the reason her son hates his sister. Nothing is going to change her mind about that. I hope she doesn't die and I hope she gets better, because FCB only lost his dad less than 5 years ago and I don't think he is going to be able to handle the loss of his mom. I don't want anyone in my family to get hurt or be sad. But unfortunately, I have no control over life and death.

So that is what is happening on the Persnickety front. Not everything, but those are the highlights. Don't even ask me about the lowlights. I promise to find my funny and share it with you guys when I find it. Let's hope those damn dust bunnies didn't run off with it cuz I am just too damn scared of the dark to go after it in that instance.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Heeeeere's CAKE!

You guys asked to see it when I was done. I have to admit it was the first time I used fondant and it is marshmallow fondant at that. I tasted it. It tasted great. I colored it and tasted it. Still good. I attempted to gently ease it over the top of the cake. OH-FOR-THE-LOVE-OF-ALL-THAT-IS-SUGARY-AND-COMPLICATED!! I messed up. I scraped frosting off and tried again. And again. It was definitely a lesson in patience. But, I can honestly say, even though it took me a lot longer than I thought it would and now I am late with everything else including getting packed to leave, I am very pleased with what I made.

*And on a side note any persons that might be reading this blog and don't like my humorous bent on things or don't like what they see? You can kiss my fat drunkaholic heart attack!

Thank you, now back to your regularly scheduled sugar coma.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Friendds don't let freends drog blunk!

Cuz I am baking a cake and and have dranken a whole damn doodle bottle of Arbor Mist Sangria and am trying to pack for disney while talking on the phone with Feisty and I had this whole schpeeel about how absolutely fuked my Mondat was going and how it is a conspiracy between the evol funnel cake, the dust bunnies under my bed, the clowns in my closet and the bra manufacturers but oops...there goes my cake and holed on a minute....I am so kicking Duncan Crocker's ass right now!!

And so anyway...where was I? Oh yeah so I had this whole thing planned out to blog and then I started drinking and yall should be lucky that you getting at least this and I was going to be so funny that yous guys was going to pee your pants and then I started drinking and baking and droging blunk and OOOOOHHH look a kitty!!