My Husband's Diet

When Jim dropped a Fire Cheeto on his pot roast last night, I thought to myself, "I need to blog this.". Jim is the freakiest eater on the face of the planet. This is a man who ate fig newtons EVERY. DAY. For two years. Then, he went through a bagel phase. When I mean phase, I mean breakfast, lunch and dinner for an indefinite period of time. I'm pressed to eat *anything* twice in the same DAY, unless of course it involves iced mochas or pizza. He also does this really bizarre combo-thing, too. (Like spicy Cheetos and pot roast.) Yesterday this is what he ate in the time frame of 3pm to 8pm:

Frozen pot roast "Life Choice" dinner with green beans and spicy Cheetos.

Pork pot stickers with soy sauce.

Huge-ass piece of lasagna.

Chocolate brownie with white chunky sugar things in it.

More pot stickers, and more spicy Cheetos.

"Smart Ones" frozen chicken and pasta stir fry.

Please tell me this boy doesn't need some food-therapy. Did I mention he had SPICY CHEETOS WITH POT ROAST?? Yuck.

Someone needs to take the internet away from me.

It's a hopeless, dangerous addiction that gets me into to more trouble.

Currently, there is a rescue Cairn Terrier who needs adopting in my area. Crap. This little 6-month-old DOLL needs me, people. My husband is bugging me about getting her, but I keep telling him we can't because he needs a JOB FIRST. Dogs are expensive, I already have two dogs, I have to work a lot, blah, blah, blah. I know. But it just breaks my heart. I am the ultimate sucker. Jim walks his unemployed ass around the house all day telling Lou & mags they're gonna get a "sister". He gets them all riled up. Then he gets me all riled up. I keep saying no, but I'm gonna break, I'm telling you. As soon as he gets a job, I'm gonna break. He has an interview Tuesday for a good job that he is perfect for. Keep your fingers and paws crossed!!

I smell like a boy today.

For some reason the hand lotion I am using + the perfume I put on this morning combine into what smells like a very pleasant MEN'S COLONGNE. I keep wanting to flirt with myself, and I keep smelling my hands.

In other news, I was in bed all weekend with the flu, and when I was driving home on Friday on the very scary Highway 2 (nicknamed the "highway of death"), this old white van suddenly swerved head-on into my lane. I closed my eyes, swerved to the right thinking "I'm dead" and for some reason (most likely divine intervention), I completely avoided both a head-on collision and hitting the guard rail that would send me straight into the river. I must have a purpose on earth because SERIOUSLY FOLKS, I SHOULD BE DEAD. I walked into the house in shock and told my husband he was talking to a ghost. Then, I took a bunch of NyQuil and went to bed for 48 hours.

Does it even surprise you anymore?

This is the picture that my tax person has on the front of his brochure:



All I can say is, that pup better get me a helluva return this year. I need it BAD. I'm running out of 20$ hair conditioner, my nails need to be done and my car needs to be detailed. (All the dog hair.)

Adding Insult to Injury

As if you're not sick of my whining by now, in addition to all the crap happening to me, Maggie pooped in the hallway today and Louie peed under the coffee table. I almost cried. Almost. Usually I would just flail-about and scream "OUTSIDE! OUTSIDE!", but today was one of those days where I could cry over not enough chocolate in my iced mocha. I really, just really need a happy day. Things are so fricking crazy right now, it's scary. Even the weather has lost its mind. Last week we had an ice storm, and it was in the 20's. Today, we are flooding all over the place and its nearly 60 degrees. 60 DEGREES PEOPLE! IN JANUARY! I'm sure the world will be ending soon, or pigs will start flying.

I have to say, though, as bad as my 2005 is going so far, I still have to be thankful I'm not in SE Asia. I read an article today saying that 225 THOUSAND people are dead, and you know they are under-reporting the numbers. It is estimated that a possible 200 thousand more could die from disease. That is just downright depressing. Makes me want to go hug everyone I know.

Guess what?

CrazyDogMama fell down a flight of stairs. Yep. My ankle is completely messed up and I look like I have many things shoved up my ass when I walk. Last week was just fabulous, let me tell you. Unemployed husband, bruised and battered body, and a new boss. What a stellar start to 2005. Somehow, though, I'm still going to go to my new boxing class on Wednesday. So help me GOD.

Pass the Valium, Please.

Nothing seems bleak when you have a full stash of "happy pills". Everyone keeps asking ME (not my husband) how it's going. Apparently, I'm the high-strung one. My friends understand me, though. Our motto is, "Create your own happiness". I am trying not to self-medicate with peanut butter cups, though. Prescription drugs are much easier on the ass and thighs.

It's going OK. I tend to want to freak out thinking about the situation too much, but truly, there is nothing I can do. I have my husband doing all kinds of projects at home. Fix the vacuum. Take down the Christmas lights. Wash the dogs. Steam clean the carpet. Yep, I have a house-boy. I may even have dinner waiting for me when I get home. *Grin*

Murphy's Law

What happens when you quit smoking, get back on track with eating clean, start going back to the gym 6 days a week and, just basically, start kicking ass?

Your husband loses his job.

Now I just want to lay in bed with a pack of cigarettes, a rum and coke and big stupid bowl of cookie dough.

Well, crap.

So, I went back to work on Monday. I put up my new calendar, checked all my bazillion work-emails and had 6 cups of coffee. In walks the Vice President. He wants to talk to me. Holy Shit. I'm not on the internet, I swear! He wants to speak in private. Oh Gawd. It's only a few hours into my day, in the new year, and he tells me, "I've just laid off your boss". What do you say to that? I just blinked. As my boss packed up his office, I was given a stack of work taller than my desk. I have been told that the company is being "reorganized". Yeah, whatever. I'm a peon here, so I'm not in jeopardy right now. I don't think. I don't make the big bucks.

So, being boss-less, here I write in my blog. I better get to work.