Tag Archives: seriously

Ironic not bionic

9 Apr

Chatting with a friend the other day, I realized folks don’t know about my brush with the brush. And by brush, I mean foliage on the trail.

It all started when I saw that Coke commercial. You know the one with the chick roller skating? This is a special kind of skating.  Quad skating with a twist! I used to do that shit when I was all badass back in da day. Rex-style skating with T and S. So I immediately bought a pair and had them shipped.

Now, I didn’t buy smart shit like wrist and knee pads – oh no no no. Not this gal. I be invincible. I am after all BOLD.

Anyhoohaw, my coveted skates arrived and the hubby tells me not to use them til I buy protection.

ME: Of course not. Have a nice day.

HUBBY: I mean it.

ME: *smiling* See you later.

So I worked from home back then and my boss worked in Texas. So at 3p pacific time, I grab my skates and head to the trail. Schwing!!

I’ve got my iPod on old school R&B and it’s all fun and games until I hit the fucking acorns. I’m ass flying through the air and I know this aint gonna end well. I land wrist first to protect my precious backside.

I’m sprawled half on the trail, half in the foliage. I knew my wrist was shattered about 30 seconds after I landed. And I’m winded.

Dude on a bike goes riding past me. Doesn’t try to stop. I squeak out “helllllppppp” in this tiny voice. But he hears it thank the good lord baby Hayzeus.

BIKER BOY: Oh, I didn’t see you there. I thought you were a dead dear.

ME: *ok, I’ll let that go* Hey I broke my wrist. Can’t move. Do you have a phone?

BB: Yeah sure.

I call 911. Panting miserably now the shock has worn off.

ME: *spying his water bottle* Can I have your water?

BB: Yeah sure.

In his defense, what a great guy, but a man of few words.

911 drives on the trail with sirens blazing. Ambulance dude refuses to give me an IV and some serious drugs. I’m begging. I’m pleading. I’m crying. I might have tried flirting, but I think it would have gone unnoticed because of the twigs and pebbles in my hair.

At the ER, they jack me up on morphine. For the record, this is NOT my drug of choice. Not that I have one. A choice that is.

Turns out my trip down memory lane and into the shrubs along the trail were gonna require surgery, 2 (yes tw0) titanium plates and 8 (eight, yes 8!) inch long (yes 1″ long) screws.

So while I’m held together with sooper strong hardware, my software (aka brain) could use some better parts. And by parts I mean better common sense.

The irony is this: After crushing my wrist, I put the skates in the spare closet where they are now collecting dust and holding the memories of misplaced trust. And maybe some dirt and pebbles from the trail. I refuse to visit them. They are on time out. Like me.

E.D. It’s not just for breakfast anymore…

31 Mar

The other night, I got together with two of my crazy bitch co-workers. Damn, I love these women. WorkItGirl and HotBabyMama.

WorkItGirl asked me last week to help her “shop” for a new man in her life. What the hell did I get myself into?

So we meet up, and I ask “what are we shopping for anyway” and WorkItGirl tells me they are going to Yosemite. Immediately, I conjure imagines of hiking and whatnot. I decide the best advice I can give her is to wear some cute hiking knee socks, some cheeky panties and a hot ass bra. Yeah baby! Cuz that’s how I’d rock the hiking look. Oh yeah, and pigtails. Cuz I’m naughty (shocking yes?)

They don't REALLY have to be hiking socks. So not the point.

I ask WorkItGirl how she met him in the first place and she tells me it was through eHarmony. I’m like “wha?” and she’s like “I kno” and then she tells me and HotBabyMama the story of this guy she met once for coffee.  Who was a complete WTF and a funny story. (And not the guy she’s going to Yosemite with.)

So anyhoohaw, she meets this guy for coffee and he proceeds to tell her about his erectile dysfunction. Over coffee. Did I mention it was 10am? Do we not have propriety here? WTF?

She is goaded by her BFF for life to give him another chance. First off, there is nothing wrong with admitting you have ED. I’m lying. And mocking. If you have ED, shut the fuck up. Lie bitch. Especially on the first date. At breakfast no less.

But she decides, okay, maybe I freaked out and should give him another chance. Maybe it was misunderstood?

She meets Mr. ED for dinner.

All is well until dessert. Where he decides to spill the T.R.U.T.H. – over creme brulee no less. Apparently Mr. ED is undergoing a surgerical penile implant to help him with this little problem. He’s really selling himself to WorkItGirl with this expenditure.

Me and HotBabyMama devolve into mindless giggles. Just in time for the waitress to arrive. Whereby I spill the sad truth that we’re talking about penile implants and yes, please, may I have another martini? Three olives, shake it up I like it dirty…

I’m so glad I’m not single. And so glad I have friends who have such colorful lives and stories that allow me to feel their pain, mirth, and currently – joy.

P.S. WorkItGirl found some rockin knee high hiking socks. Schwing!

Pandora’s box

3 Feb

Lawdy lawdy lawdy. This gal is over fawty.

I’m okay with that, really. Especially since I discovered the joys of Botox.

And in other news… I find myself wanting to know the meaning behind almost everything. It’s like I’m 40-something going on 8.

I’m always asking WHY. Why is it so cold in this house? Why am I not sleeping more than six hours? Why am I drinking a whole bottle of wine?

The constant litany of mundane questions bouncing around my head like a pinball machine is driving me crazy. And feeling a bit like the drip, drip, drip of an ancient water torture.

In reality, I know the answers of course. And my guess is, for those that know me, you do too. (3000 square feet of tile flooring; stressed; cuz I haz a fabulous wine cellar!)

So what’s really going on in my fruity pebbled brain? Besides the constant drone of little worker bees buzzing me with silly questions, I suspect I’m just starting to question… wait for it… wait for it… almost there… yep. LIFE.

Another four letter word we LIVE, LOVE and HATE at regular intervals. As a 40-something chick, I am questioning everything from my purpose at work to my choice in novelas.

In fact, one day I was so bored curious about something, I went to the online Confucius.

As I typed WHY  several interesting options appeared. And with my ADHD distracting me, I no longer cared about what I originally wanted to ask. Instead…

Google's answer to Bing?

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”  I wish I had clicked that…

“Why are nerds unpopular?” Huh, what’d I miss?

How about “Please Rob Me”?  It shows us a listing of all empty homes out there. Sure. Why not?

Anyhoohaw, all this yap yap yapping about WHY this and WHY that got me asking another question… “Will the answer matter?”

I gave that a lot of thought. So, yeah… NO – I don’t think it will matter one bit if I get the answer to “Why is Snooki such a nasty ho?”

Take it from Pandora, some boxes just shouldn’t be opened.

Too much information?

9 Sep

For this inaugural post, I reflect on the need to share too much information.

I do it, you do it, the birds and bees do it.

Last night, the hubby and I are on our way out to meet some friends. I’m gonna hang out with  HER at some chi-chi boutique where the dress code “suggested” high heels ala Carrie Bradshaw…

The hubby would go hang out eating hot wings and drinking beers with HIM.

So I get all dolled up – barrel curled my hair, put on my True Religion jeans and my {gulp} 6″  dark red wedge heels. Yes 6″. They were totally cool.

We get in the car and I tell the hubby “your mom called…didn’t hear the message…”

He calls her when we pull out of the driveway. I hear “we’ll be right there.” Turns out, she’s feeling like she needs to go to the doctor – which if you knew us, you’d know this is serious.

We cancel our “chick party” and “beer fest” night. Boo.

Get to Kaiser and there’s no one there. I know there’s a recession but the ER is empty? With her chest pains, we go right in. They triage her asap and hook her up to gidgets and gadgets and IVs oh my. Now, before I get to the real story, shall I just say – she’s fine. She had something that felt scary, but she’s really okay today. I promise.

But here’s the TMI story.

First, and I love me my Kaiser – I don’t need to know what the hell is wrong with you sick people.  If you present wearing a full face mask and a protective sheet around your lap, let’s just say I’m on a need to know basis. And trust me, I don’t need to know…

Which is how I felt when the big guy was wheeled in.

Outside our curtain, nurse betty asks “have you been sick long” and he replies in a mumbled voice due to the bacteria resistant mask “yeah for a few weeks.” Then she asks:

“Have you been nauseous?” Reply “Yes”

“Vomiting?” Reply “Yes”

“Diarrhea?” Reply “Yes”

Seriously? I was just sitting on the toe-end of my 70 year old mother-in-law and this about put me over the edge… (Yes, I realize that statement puts me in hell.)

No better time to use the little girls room. Clickity click clicking down the hallway in my 6″ dark red wedge heels was oddly uncomfortable in the stark hallways at the hospital en route to the pee pee potty.

Now, I must admit I watch some medical drama TV so I could only imagine what the EFF was going on, and yes, the inner gossip girl in me wanted to know the salacious details with the patient next door, but the adult woman in me who respects your privacy didn’t want the added drama.

So I only listened with one ear out the curtain. The other one was watching Master Chef.

As Sharone was kicked off the island of misfit home chefs, the techs, nurses, and doctors continued to arrive next door only to pause, collect themselves, and put on their game faces  before entering the land of the lost.

Now, I’m not sure but I highly suspect based on my {unwanted?} observations of their conversations and actions and his appearance that he had … dut dut dut duh….. flesh eating bacteria….

Now is this fact? No – come on, I don’t have the balls to ask – but I can ask if it was simply happenstance that we were there, the answers were heard, the visuals were clear? Or was it merely a common case of too much information?

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