The Squirrel Chronicles

Well, 25 has proven to be an exciting year for me. I got engaged, I am officially cured of cancer, and my mom turns 50!
Although I have been officially cured of cancer, my medication levels are ACTUALLY stable, my anemia has cleared up and I have less fatigue and irritability, I have found that hitting age 25 has barraged me with a whole NEW set of strange symptoms, usually associated with middle age.
For example, I have recently been experiencing strange, burning sensations in my esophagus, feelings of bloating and waves of nausea. I have been suffering for about a month now, and just today, I thought: "Hey, maybe these symptoms qualify as INDIGESTION"
I have NEVER experienced indigestion in my life. I could eat a block of cheese, a bag of chocolate chips and a chicken caesar salad in one sitting, and never think twice.
Now?
Now I fear the impending explosion of my ass in a public setting.
I popped a couple of Pepto Bismol, and things are looking brighter.

I guess it's all down hill from 25.

Today's post is from one of my favoritest friends. Another one of my best friends who lives far away from me (why was I the only one without the balls to move away from here??) ...Christy sent me this email the other day and I just HAVE to post parts of it, because she has never been MORE RIGHT. (Except when she told me to get the hell out of a terrible relationship. You were right then, too Christy. I LOVE YOU)
Anyway, here we go:

This morning I went to the gym before work... it was my first attempt
at starting my day out healthy. I got up at 5:45 and drove 30 minutes to
my gym and walked into the locker room to drop off my things only to be
greeted by overweight old naked ladies.... WHY? Why do they stand around and
have conversations while completely naked?.. WHY do they go in the whirl pool
completely naked and ruin it for the rest of us?... I understand that a
swim suit is only a thin layer of spandex separating me from the water in
the whirl pool.... but it is a very important piece of fabric!** I do not want
to see them walking around naked at 6:30 am (or at any other time for that
matter!), They have ruined the whirl pool for me.. now I can never go
in it!
YUCK!

**(I understand about the swim suit, Christy. At least it catches any stray pubes that may be loosed by the whirlpool jets)

I was also lifting this morning next to these two rather fit middle aged women. They were talking
about work, then this other woman walked by in a cute exercise outfit. The one lady stopped mid sentance and goes... " I can't believe it she wears that outfit all the time... what is wrong with her!"

I thought:
Maybe her washer is broken and she handwashes only a few exercise
outfits...maybe she wears that outfit every monday morning b/c she likes it and
that's the only time this nasty woman sees her... maybe she has lost a lot of
weight and only has this one outfit that she feels good in... what a bitch!

The other woman goes " I know and look at the back of her legs... ugghh."
I literally stopped and stared at them because I couldn't believe what I was
hearing. The second lady then says:
"Oh I payed you a compliment the other day. I was talking to Susan and she says to me: You know who hasn't changed a bit since highschool?... Mary something or other. Well I told her,
that's just because she's had work done, and it's not that impressive... I said that you (the nasty blonde lady) are really someone that hasn't changed a bit."

The blonde laughs and says "Awww thanks you are so sweet. I really don't know why people always talk about Mary so much... I mean So What that she was a model...it's not like she's THAT beautiful..."
The other lady says, " I know she was only in Glamour one time!"

If I had been clever enough or brave enough or rude enough I should have said:

" Wow that sucks! You looked like you were 45 in highschool?! That must have been really hard on you..."

Some people are so mean!!**

**(You are SO RIGHT.(again) Those women are the exact reason why I wear pants and Tshirts to the gym all the time. They can make fun of the bands I like, but they sure as hell won't get a glimpse of my spider veins! Stupid Bitches.)

How do all of you pronounce the word "PEANUT" ?

I say: Pee- NUT.

Some people say: Pee- NIT

This is wrong. Especially when one is speaking in plural about the salty little treats: Pee- NITS.

YOU say: Pee-NITS out loud to yourself.

WHAT DOES IT SOUND LIKE?

Mmhmm. That's what I thought.
So please exuse me while I giggle behind my hand at you when you offer me a handful of Pee-NITS.

I am off from work for TWO WEEKS.
So on this 90 degree Monday morning, I have been walking around my second floor, NON air conditioned apartment in a T-shirt and underwear. Making breakfast, watching Regis and Kelly, doing a little scrapbooking...etc. Then....

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

There is a man in a bucket outside of my kitchen window, beating the shit out of the roof with a hammer. The bucket is labeled "We Like to get High". I scampered away before the man could glimpse me in my panties.

Presumably, they are fixing the holes in which the squirrels are entering my home. I will stick my head out the window and ask him...just as soon as my bottom half is modestly covered.

Conversation as we are managing our online Blockbuster Queue, and perusing spanish movies:

Me: What does Amor Brujo mean?

Juan: Love chinsing

Me: Chinsing?

Juan: Yup.

Me: What is chinsing?

Juan: You know, ginseng

Me: GINSENG? Like tea?

Juan: No. Don't you have a saying, like, "You ginseng me?"

me: OH!!! JINXED!!!

Juan: yeah. That's what i said

I hate Cosmopolitan magazine. It runs the same articles repeatedly with photos of different models and new directions to find your G-spot. (It's always in the same place, ladies!)
But I do allow myself to read Cosmo while I am on the Stairmaster at the gym. This is simply because I am working so hard NOT to fall on my ass, that it is impossible for me to read anything of valid and worthwhile content. Plus I find it disrespectful to sweat on anything that can be qualified as literature. Or even non fiction.
ANYWAY, there I was, sweating profusely on Cosmo when I turned the page to find myself staring at a woman in her underwear who had a body JUST LIKE ME.
I kid you not.
I mean, flabby tummy and thick thighs and EVERYTHING.
She was SO hot.

It was an ad for Dove's Campaign for Real Beauty.
I just about fell off the Stairmaster.

I will buy Dove products for THE REST OF MY LIFE.

It seems as if in the wake of the Jennifer Wilbanks post (whose eyes, incidentally, are even creepier on TV than in the newspaper),
my blog survey has been forgotten.
Let's try again:

Sex or chocolate?

Ok, Ok. Enough of Jennifer Wilbanks. Leave the freaking girl alone to deal with her own mental health issues.
Did she make a huge ass mistake? Yup
Did she expose her depression, anxiety and low self esteem to her friends and family in the worst way possible? You bet
Did she scare an entire nation and cause a media upheaval? Certainly
Did she pay back the money and make retribution? YES SHE DID

Now leave her alone.

She is NOT a disgusting human being.
She IS spoiled and selfish.
She also have super creepy bulgy eyes, but that is not the point.
She's seeking treatment for her multitude of mental health problems. (She probably should NOT be selling the rights to her story, but whatever. That's not the point either)

If anything, she has probably given thousands of scared brides across the country, the opportunity to back out of their weddings appropriately.

Thank you very much. Now Katie Couric can SHUT UP about Jennifer Wilbanks.

Blog Survey!

Sex or Chocolate?

While waiting for my sister's graduation ceremony to begin, I became entranced by this woman's ass.
Everything about it is WRONG.
The color of the pants: WRONG
The fit of the pants: WRONG
The cut of the pants: WRONG
The choice of underwear beneath the pants: COMPLETELY and ESPECIALLY WRONG

This is precisely the type of thing that scares me about middle age. Since when does hitting 55 mean that one can no longer wear a nice, classic pair of linen khaki pants and a thong?
(If you click on the picture and make it bigger, you can make out the panty lines)

Congratulations to my little sister Eileen who graduated today!
I love you!

The Time: Midnight

The Place: The Bathroom (seated on toilet, bent over at waist due to half-sleep state of arousal)

The Offender: A 2" long fuzzy centipede

The Result: High pitched screaming, jumping up and down on tip toes, running to kitchen with panties around ankles searching for a shoe with which to kill the offender. Smashing offender into bath mat and spreading guts everywhere for good measure. Inability to fall back asleep for an hour due to autonomic nervous system's over reaction.

It has been my general impression during my 25 years of existence, that for the most part, the Women's Movement was damn successful.
Equality the Right to Vote and all that stuff. Yes,yes, we have yet to have a female president, but I'm sure Billary will take care of that in the next few years.
Today I experienced a strange, flip flopped world, where men definitely rule to roost and don't give a damn about the meddlin' women.
I walked into a cigar shop.
In this unassuming brown brick building, flanked by an auto parts shop and a drug store, lies a parallel universe, unknown to those of us not wishing to die from lung cancer.
In this male dominated universe, the inhabitants seat themselves in leather chairs and smoke their stogies INDOORS, thus creating a filthy environment that no self respecting woman would ever tolerate. The men speak in short 1 or 2 word phrases and snort through their noses at eachother. Their communication is limited because they do not remove their pipes or cigars from their mouths during speech. They simply talk AROUND the cigar.
Also, they are COMPLETELY intolerant of women who know NOTHING about tobacco and who simply want to get their dad a nice present. They ask confusing questions about bowls, and grains and humidity. The unassuming woman must resort to calling her mother in the middle of the store for lack of responses to such encrypted questioning.
Is this what guys feel like when they go to Victoria's Secret?
I love you dad, but next year, YOU"RE GETTING CASH.

Juan took strep throat from me.
I did not give it to him. He INSISTED on using my toothpaste and wiping his mouth on MY towel AND kissing me everytime I turned around. I told him if he got strep throat I would NOT feel bad for him, because it would be his very own fault.
So anyway, he took strep from me, and stayed at home today.
When I came home from work, here is what I found:
1) The dishes were done (and put away!)
2) The laundry was done (and folded!)
3) The kitchen was clean
4) Dinner was in the oven.
5) Juan was in an apron.

I told him he could quit his job and I would support him if he would be my stay at home husband.

ATTENTION ALL RETAILERS!

As you all must know by now, nearly 100% of America is overweight! That's Right. This statistic includes YOUR customers. If you don't believe me, take your next lunch break on a bench in the mall and spend 30 minutes people watching. The evidence speaks for itself.
This statistic also includes me. A hefty size 12.
Speaking from experience, I have found that EVERY department store, boutique, outlet and shop find it AMUSING to place all the big girl sizes in the BACK of every rack.
THIS IS A PROBLEM.
As you can imagine, it is difficult for us big girls to lean over a rack with an arm load of clothing and sift through an endless stream of size ZEROS to find that precious size14 hiding in the LAST available crevice of space. By this time, our armloads of clothing have slipped to the floor and the racks of clothing hanging above our heads are crashing down onto our shoulders. This leaves us defenseless. Our asses are sticking out in the aisle, our fallen clothes are lying in a heap. In a word or few: WE ARE BLOCKING SHOPPING TRAFFIC.
When we finally emerge victoriously from the darkness of the Back Rack with our size 12 capris (or maybe they are a 14, depending on if they are "stretch") , we are greeted by a line of angry shoppers who have been blocked by our asses, from that rack of adorable purses.
So do America a favor and PUT THE BIG GIRL CLOTHES IN THE FRONT OF THE RACK.

Today I can swallow my own saliva as well as soup.
The most exciting development of my recovery from strep throat is that the stringent course of antibiotics is turning my urine orange.

Yesterday evening as Juan is making me toast (because I am sick and pathetic and can't do it myself):

Juan: Would you like some American Cheese from a can on your toast?

Me: If you ever offer me cheese from a can AGAIN, I won't marry you.

Juan: Whatever

Me: I swear I will make it part of the wedding vows:
"I Juan, promise never to offer you cheese from a can for as long as we both shall live. Amen"

Forget the flu. I have highly contagious strep throat. If I saw you yesterday, you might get sick too. But if we didn't make out, you should be fine,
I am proudly sporting a 102 degree fever and the inability to swallow my own saliva.
In addition to my misery, the air show is in town. Those damn fighter jets make a ton of noise. It is interrupting my viewing of the Crocodile Hunter on NBC.

I believe I contracted the flu exactly three hours ago.
I came home from work to pick up a salad for a picnic. I sat down to check my daily round of blogs, and it all went downhill from there.
I suddenly felt achey. My throat felt like I had gagged myself with a yard of sandpaper.
And I was COLD.
It is 90 degrees here today with 100% humidity. With no air conditioning in my second floor apartment.
I began shivering. So I took a HOT shower until I felt warmer. But when I stepped out into my 90 degree apartment, it felt like walking into a freezer. So I put on warm socks,sweat pants and wrapped myself in a down comforter.
I got myself a glass of cold orange juice and took small sips. Within 10 minutes the OJ was WARM. Warm orange juice is gross.
Juan came over and found me bundled up on the couch, still shivering. He got me some Advil.
I think it made him nauseous to see me in sweatpants on a ninety degree afternoon. He's at the store now, getting me a smoothie.

Angry Chicken posted this link today.
It is the MOST unbelievable thing I have EVER seen.
I needed to share my intense shock and disbelief with y'all.
(It's not gross or porno or anything)

http://www.randomthink.net/misc/ebay/

Is this not the most adorable child you have EVER seen?
I can barely hold it in. Juan and I have been cooing at our computer screen at Baby Payton for over 20 minutes now. It is so pathetic.
Check out the crazy hair! Only Jena's daughter could have hair like that.
Lucky thing.
But it looks like it's a little humid in California!

Here is Juan on the camping trip.
Much to your surprise, he is NOT smoking opium.
He is drinking water from a camel pack.
He might be a little drunk because we were wine tasting prior to this photo.
He says he wasn't, but this picture isn't too convincing.

I actually survived the camping trip. There were a plethora of tiny worms that constantly dropped out of the trees and into my hair (causing me to scream and brush my hair incessantly). I also experienced a giant flying roach, which took a nose dive into my ear (causing me to scream and beat the crap out of Juan).
However, the wine tasting, the PERFECT weather and gaining a new nickname ("Magnet Ass") more than made up for the insects.
Also, the gorgeous view was enough to endure a hundred disgusting, writhing worms.

While in the grocery store with your 12 year old son, discuss loudly and exuberantly, the trials and tribulations of breast feeding with a customer carrying a newborn.
In particular, be sure to converse on how your then-newborn son (now 12 years old) simply REFUSED to take milk from your breast. Describe in vivid detail the various techniques with which you coaxed him to suckle your nipple for over 2 months.
If you would prefer for your child to DISOWN you, the discomfort-factor of the conversation may be increased exponentially by advising the stranger to ICE HER NIPPLE following a feeding.

Today I paid a visit to my friend Catherine while she was at work. We shared our weekend plans. She is doing laundry and I am going camping. When I told Catherine of these weekend plans, she looked at me curiously and cautiously posed the question:
"Liz? have you ever BEEN camping?"

The answer is NO. I have technically slept in a tent and grilled with friends outdoors. But I have never been camping FOR REAL. And it is real this time. No electricity on the site, But there ARE regular toilets with real plumbing.

It is so funny that Catherine asked me this, because after ten years of friendship, it is PAINFULLY OBVIOUS that I am NOT an outdoors type of girl. When I am exposed to the outer elements for more than 3 hours, I tend to:
1) Blister and peel in the sunlight
2) Become panicky that my unpredictable bowels will make themselves WELL KNOWN to those around me
3) Feel anxious that I will miss the Oprah show.

However, it is only for one night, and the wine and beer will be flowing. If I don't break the seal, I should be JUST FINE.

As previously posted, most of my TURBOCOOKER meals this week have been completely inedible.
Guess what. Not eating dinner 4 times in a week made me lose 2 pounds.
I'm finally on to something!
I'm keeping that damn TURBOCOOKER!
And I'm using it EVERY NIGHT!

This is my very first attempt at a quilt. (This is NOT the current quilt I am working on) It is made of all sorts of beautiful fabric my Nonnie has collected over the past 50 years! Brocade and silk and I think some organza. Or something like organza. OK, I wouldn't know what organza was if I stepped on it. But it sounds good.
Anyway, it also has antique lace stitched into the seams. My great grandma made some of it.
This picture doesn't do it justice. It is a little better if you click on it and see the larger shot.
Anyway, it was fun.