The Rodent Problem Increases...

How about HIM for a new Rantsville Apartments Mascot?

And One More Before I Retire....
Mood:  bright
NEW YORK MINUTE- BLEAH.
MATCHSTICK MEN- I wanted to KILL the little girl. Spent the whole movie thinking, "Gee, this could be a GREAT movie if it weren't for the drama little teenager". Seriously. Wanted to KILL her. I hate teenage girls because I was one once. I know the drama.
LOST IN TRANSLATION- SLOOOOOOOOOOW. I guess I'm just a fucking philistine, because I didn't get it. The whole japan thing was cool though.
BAD BOYS II- Blow stuff up. UNGAWA! Actually, it was pretty good. A little unnecessarily icky in parts, but that's just me.
MONSTER- I was hoping that she was a little less sympathetic, but she was still fucked in the head. And WOW was she ugly. Did NOT need to see ugly lesbian sex. Really didn't. Other than that though.
I don't know why I can't seem to get behind any movies lately. I want to see one that really sticks in my head, but I fear that there will NEVER be another Donnie Darko.
Onward to naptime!

Why the Military is Like Survivor
1. OUTWIT- Everyone plays favorites. You have to suck ass in order to get anywhere, or to keep any position you may have been awarded. A little lube in the military is always appreciated.
2. OUTPLAY- He who gets drunkest with his buddies has the best stories to tell withint legal parameters, and then see #1.
3. OUTLAST- The longer you stay at any one given duty station, the better your chances at winning someone higher up over to your side.

The only reason I'm snarking is because the hub-unit got knocked out of his Branch LPO job because someone was playing favorites, an alliance if you will. It's fucking ridiculous.
And the ony reason I'm snarking about THAT is because he gets bumped down to shift supervisor, and the only shift that needs a superviosr is NIGHTS. That's the shift that starts at 5 PM and goes until 3 AM. Guess whose schedule that's gonna fuck up?
This could be a rough week.
And welcome to V, whose second posting has earned her a middle unit with a king-sized balcony. Not many of those left, you know.

Baby Robbie
Mood:  bright
Here he is!

Isn't he CUTE? He's all squishy and full of hair! I want to squeeze him and make boodgie-boodgie sounds! And believe me when I say no bullshit he looks JUST like his daddy. Just.
Next entry.

A New Addition to my Extended Family
Mood:  celebratory
Now Playing: "My Boy Lollipop", Lulu
The BBF had her baby!
Robert Lawrence David Morrow just popped into the world about two hours ago, and I just got the phone call about ten minutes ago. & pounds, 10 ounces, and 21 inches long.
I'm an Auntie again! Yippee!
That's about it for today. I was going to bitch about how SERIOUSLY broke we suddenly are, but fuck it. I have phone calls to make.

So Many Entries That Failed to Make it to the Big Screen
Mood:  bright
Now Playing: A cacaphony of mewling kitties
For all of you lovely folks that write comments here, I swear to god I am not ignoring you. I read all of your blogs every day, but you're far more inteligent than me and I just don't have the mental capacity to write anything of worth on your sites. Plus, you have better teeth and fresher breath. Shinier hair, too.
Last night, the husband and I had one of those 'talks' again, about serious stuff. This is hard, especially about this particular topic we were discussing, because of one simple thing:
The Hub-unit doesn't know women.
Well, he knows women, but only in the strict biblical sense. At 35 years old, before me he'd never had a girlfriend stay over for a weekend. Or live with him. Or ANYTHING. Basically, he's never woken up to girl things, and he's never been told about girl things. For example, he actually had no clue as to how a girl's period works. The best analogy I could come up with was a fuel pump. He got it. I think.
He also doesn't understand anything that happens in the morning. He doesn't understand weight issues or panic attacks about clothing fitting, he doesn't get the whole baby thing, you name it and he's totally incompetent. It's not that he's stupid or anything, it's just that with all his priors he's never taken the time to ask about chick-related stuff.
Take last night. He was mentioning that this whole cervical bullshit I'm going through right now was probably something simple. I had to tell him that when something happens with a girl's insides, it's NEVER simple. I tried to explain endometriosis to him, and when I got to the point about hysterectomy, he kinda wigged. It probably wouldn't happen, but all the options had to be looked at....
I love my husband, but he just doesn't get it.
I think I'll just get him a book, because I can't explain stuff that I can barely understand myself.

Triple Digits
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: "Don't Call Me Baby", Madison Avenue
It's stopped raining, and while the sun has yet to make an appearance, I feel better. Not crazy, running around yapping with the thought process of Amalah's dog better, but slightly more up than the last few days. Thank GAWD. I suppose I should summarize the finer points of the last few days:
1. Started leaking scabs. SCABS. The vomit factor was high and in rare form yesterday.
2. Once again the hub-unit IS trying, but I had to tell him to shut the fuck up. He didn't mean to sound like a jackass, but nevertheless. I was semi-weepy about my current cervical situation because of my irrational fear of doctors, and he just did the hair-stroking thing that calms me so much and just before I finally fall back asleep he says "It's okay baby, it's just all a part of being a woman."
?!?!?!? Thanks, mom. Now get the fuck out of my husband.
I had to tell him to shut up. "It's all just a part of being a woman' my ASS. That's the LAST thing I expected to hear from him. That's the last thing I WANTED to hear from him.
3. Augustus has once again graced us with his presence. Filthy, stinking, and WET, but his Nibs is back. We'll be getting him microchipped posthaste. Of course, he came home in the middle of the day, and I was so deliriously grateful that I forgot to call the hub-unit, which was bad because he spent the whole day on the phone with animal control and the vet looking for him, not to mention leaving work a half an hour early so he could drive around the block like thrity times looking for the little assmonkey.
That's about it. Thanks everyone for the kind words and major back-rubbing I got when I needed it most. Sometimes, a stranger's support can mean even more than usual.
And as this is my 100th post, I was going to drop yet ANOTHER personal story, especially since our web sister Dooce is having such a rough time, but I think that for now I will let this ride so I can go get a cup of coffee or maybe go back to sleep.
And remember something that I myself have forgotten the last couple of days...
"If not today, then tomorrow will be the best day ever."

Mood:  down
This week just gets better and better.
It's still raining.
Last night, Augustus ran out of the house into the pouring rain, and the hub-unit and I had to chase after him for TWO HOURS. We still didn't catch him, and he's still out there somewhere. Did I mention we live right on the Highway?
While furtively chasing Augie, I fucked up my foot, so now I'm stuck on my ass AGAIN today until the pain goes away. I can feel the pounds layering back on...
I'm starting to hate my life.

Back, but not Necessarily Better
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: "Rusty the Skatemaker", Rasputina
It's raining. It's been raining since Saturday.
I love being outside in the rain, or doing something in the rain, but when you're stuck on your ass recovering and staring out the window it SUCKS. Say it with me..."SUCKS".
The reason I'm stuck on my ass is really a strange kind of early coincidence thing. Boys, you may not understand this, so come back later if you don't like hearing about girly things.
My spread-and-scrape in July just came back with wonky results, so Doctor Shmuckatelli wants me in for a colposcopy, which I dread. I call, and wonder of wonders there is a HUGE patient backup and I can't be taken care of until OCtober 4th. OCTOBER?!?! What happens between now and then?
Not a damn thing. That means I would have to sit and stew for TWO MONTHS before it got done and over with. I wanted to cry.
Better still, I hate my damn OB/GYN. He looks at me like I'm fucking stupid every time I ask a question, and I ask a LOT of questions. Hey, why am I required to know how the female system works? Last time I checked, we were ALLOWED to ask. My bad.
And yesterday, I'm on the phone with the hub-unit, explaining when my appointment is, and the other line beeps. I hate call waiting, because you're suddenly filled with the urgency to IMMEDIATELY switch over, it might be something IMPORTANT,someone might be DEAD, dear god please don't HANG UP I'M ALMOST THERE! Anyway.
Apparently there was a cancellation, and they could fit me in at 2 PM oculd I make it and please take 800 mg of Motrin before I show up?
At this point I would like to mentionthat it was five minutes to 1 PM. That gave me roughly a half an hour to get the husband home and get dressed, because I was still in my workout clothes.
CUT TO
Doc Shmuckatelli's office:
Doc Shmuckatelli isn't there, a different dude will be taking a peep at my cervix. YAY. They take my vitals, throw me on the scale, and I promptly burst into tears. Apparently, I've gained seven pounds since this morning. Then, as per usual (and I mean EVERY TIME), the nurse asks me how old my baby is now. My baby? Yes dear, your baby. You mean the baby I don't have. The baby you don't-? Oh, I'm sorry dear.
EVERY TIME. Thank you for reminding me that I once AGAIN have failed at reproduction. Thank you, Nurse Friendly, THANK YOU. For a minute there I had almost recovered from the hysterics induced by the faulty scale.
Turns out, the LAST colpo I had was a wash. DS took a look at my shit and proclaimed it well and didn't do anything to it, and he shouldn't have done that. So this time. I was gonna get a full exam, compete with biopsy.
BIOPSY? They're going to go inside and CUT me?
Instant panic attack.
Now, I understand that this is a normal procedure and is done all the time to women, but once again I cannot explain the things roaring through my brain at the time.
So I'm laying on this table with this genteel old southern gentleman between my legs, cranking me open with a COLD metal duckbill, and jamming things up in my business. While this is happening, the room is slowly shrinking to a dark pinpoint and tears are STREAMING down my face. I don't think I've ever felt more violated in my life. Of course, the wise sage and eminent woman that is my mother says that it's a by-product of rape, but how am I to know that? All I know is that there is some MAN rooting through my insides and cutting CHUNKS out of me. And iodine? It BURNS.
So it looks like I have mild to moderate cervical dysplasia, but I won't know for at least three weeks. Wish me luck.
And now I sit here, quietly bleeding and cramping like a motha, watching the rain come down. I think that maybe I should go to bed.
Or cartoons. Maybe some cartoons will cheer me up.
But not food. Food will NOT cheer me up.

A Post Notification that I WIll Not Be Posting
I am fucking tired.
Not just a little tired, but BONE tired. My bipolar is acting up because of this, and I am depressed, therefore, I will not be posting for a few days.
Not to mention that I am now in a state of depressed panic because once AGAIN Dr. Shmuckatelli has found something wrong with my cervix. AGAIN.
I need a few days away from EVERYBODY. Jesus am I tired.