You want me to do WHAT?

Famous last words. For six months last year, I endured pain in my foot that I thought was never going to end. Four surgeries in six months, I thought "Hey, it's over..whew"..little ache here and there, thought "oh just healing pains.." Here I am almost 2 years since the first surgery, and this thing f'ing HURTS. Like swelling up to double it's size hurts. Go to a different DPM, and guess what? Foot was never fixed! Awww hell naw, not another surgery..."Yes'm, 'fraid so.." the doc says..."But this one will hopefully fix everything and get it all healed." HOPEFULLY??? After much go-round and thinking, I went for it...Oh. Mother of God. The Pain. It did not hurt this bad at any point last year. I've got this heavy huge f'ing cast almost to my knee, the top of my foot feels like it's been beaten with a ball peen hammer, and then I've got "The Itch." Ya know, the one spot you feel like you're going to

My God. I feel like I have been beaten from head to toe with a 4X4. I'm 33 chronologically, but I'm trapped inside a 133 year old body. Not only did my car blow a radiator hose on the way to Mom n Me, but then I couldn't get the freakin' tent up once we FINALLY got there. I want to find the man that made this tent and serve him fried scrotum for breakfast. "The easiest tent on the market." WHAT market? The market that only serves 6ft-plus tall amazon gods/goddesses? Got it all staked out, supposed to be able to just pull this little hub thing down and voila it snaps it into place. Fellow pack mom friend of mine (who is shorter than my just-barely 5'2") stood on a chair and between the two of us looking like candidates for "America's Funniest Videos" we got the stupid thing up. By then I was already ready for a couple of rounds of Jose, and I don't even drink! But the fun had just begun! Hiked here, hiked there, shot a few rounds, nai

Yeehaw. It's good ol' scout camping time, Mom n Me style...leaving at the buttcrack of dawn to be exact, long before any human being under the age of 99 should be forced to awaken (do old people wake up early because they're afraid they'll wake up dead if they dont? :P )...traipsing off to camp, activities here there and yonder, some marshmallows and weenies over the fire, sleep, upsy-daisy, chapel and breakfast and back home. At least I learned from last year. Mama Cubs out there, HEAR MY CALL. You simply must have some essentials. First and foremost, a wagon. Yep, good ol' Radio Flyer. Do not attempt to walk 3 f'ing miles to your campsite toting everything you own plus the shit your kid gets tired of carrying 2 minutes into the hike. Spend the buckage and get a wagon. Nextly (wtf was that word?), get thyself an inflatable air bed. Screw the sleeping on the ground crap. NO sleeping bag is that soft. I'm too young to wake up feeling like I'm a 2X4 trying

Thank God I'm going to be on leave soon. I need a break from the "poop in the gene pool" of life. Yesterday, I got wrote up on some incredibly inane thing, and yes I think it was a personal thing. Other supervisors said they wouldn't have done it, would've let it slide because I'm a "good employee." But whatever. So I've been having fun taking it out on the agents. *snicker* The ones that just slllaaaayyy me are the idiots such as Abdul (not his real name but hell they're all the same and we can't be doing any slandering now can we?) who called me this morning and wanted me to run about 3 applications for him. I inquired as to whether he had our proprietary software for agents to run their own apps. "Why yes, but you can do it for me" he replied. After last night, this was NOT the best thing to say to me. I told good ol' Abdul that he was quite capable of doing it himself, and that we weren't his babysitters to sit aroun

Now with the vent outta the way I'll say howdy. My real name isn't important, 'specially cuz of who I work for, I don't need anyone starting crap. Anyhoo, I'm BuckeyeMom. I have 2 purdy lil' boys, "R" and "J", 7 and 5, and married to "G". My boys are my life, "R" is autistic, Asperger's Syndrome actually, and while life has been a struggle for him and us both as we learn to deal with it, I can't say that I'd change a thing. Both are smart as a whip, J is 5 going on 15 at times ("I can read this, I can read that, I can read this.." until someone says "OK ENOUGH ALREADY!!!") I play Everquest, am quite addicted actually. It's my one vice, except for Wint-O-Green Lifesavers (and no damnit I can't get em to spark in the dark when I chew em). Should you play, I am Taliyahna, Natilya, Davenya, and Kirnora on the Karana server. No, I don't care about hearing about any other games, nor d

Not a good way to start off a blog I suppose, but I just got home from work, and I swear I'd like to help the ocean dump California off the map. I work for a certain cellular company, in the activations department, which means I get to help agents on the West coast activate, among other things, phones for our 4-million-and-growing customers. The only problem with this is that about 1 out of ever 3 I talk to is either named Pablo, Abdul, Chong, or Little Johnny still in high school. Now before you call me a racist, shut your pie hole and listen. I deal with all kinds of crap for 11 hours a day and don't need yours. How HARD is it, really, to read a screen and follow the directions? Do you REALLY need me to stay on the phone with you FIFTEEN MINUTES so you can press four little buttons to see if a phone is activated? I don't even talk to my MOM fifteen minutes at a time, do I really want to listen to you jacking around with your buddies while you play with this phone for that