Sniffles, Yaks, and the Crud

I know I've been a little M-I-A lately. I apologize to all 4 of you who followed me to this new site. I know how much you've missed my amazing punctuation and intelligent wit... heh. (Seriously now, where did everybody else go? Are you out there....lurking? That's kinda creepy, ya know. The crickets have been getting a little loud as of late...cheeky little buggers.)

The last couple of weeks have blessed my family with croup, colds, flu, stomach bugs, and sinus infections. I've pretty much cleaned up every body fluid known to man (and some that I'm swearing must be brand new) at least twice. And I got to enjoy at least two of these illnesses at the same time whilst getting my poor tooth crowned. Fun fun fun! You're so jealous. I can tell.

I'm really not exaggerating about the sheer amount of germs we've dealt with recently, so don't come around yet unless you'd like to partake. I'm not done disinfecting this petri dish. We haven't had bird flu yet, so I guess I'm feeling okay about it all.

I actually have done some writing (mostly in my head of course), but the sick yuck that my family has been fighting for weeks has turned my brain to mush. I've managed to forget, delete, or generally make a mess of everything I've attempted. I thought it best if I just move along. Watch out for a nice little burst of posting to shortly follow. Now that I'm on the mend, I'm ready to let it all out....

hopefully this time in a more coherent fashion.

So How Was Your Week?

In the last week or so I have....



Tripped and fallen twice while carrying the baby.

Had an unnecessary root canal.

Been nearly suffocated during said root canal.

Been vomited on.

Played Wii tennis to the point that I can't lift my right arm.

Cried through massage therapy on my right arm.

Humiliated myself in front of dear friends whilst "rockin out" to Rock Band.

Been vomited on.

Had unannounced guests catch me in my undies.

Humiliated myself in front of unannounced guests whilst "rockin out" to Rock Band in my undies at the top of my lungs.

Shampooed vomit out of my bedroom carpet.

Been charged over $7000 for completely unnecessary dental work.

Stormed out and gotten a second opinion (They just want me to pay for their cappuccino machine. jerks.)

Been run off the road by a crazy Escalade driver.

Lost a sister and her family to a new job out of state.

Did I mention I've been vomited on?



I'm ready for next week.

What's in a Name?

Been thinking about nicknames. You know, how everybody has had one...how it's really hard to shake one....how they can really make or break you as a kid especially. (You know the kid they called "Big T" probably had an easier time than "Stink Boy" did. ) P. Diddy gets it. Look at how many times he's changed his nickname...Puff Daddy..Puffy...P.Diddy.. Diddy...just what does he go by now anyway? Isn't his name Sean?


I've had my share of nicknames too. My daddy named me Kitty (short for Catherine that they thought was way too dignified for me at the time) when I was just a baby. Everybody still calls me this. I've tried to shake it before, but it inevitably comes back to haunt me. I gave it up. I'll be an arthritic 80 year old woman and people will still call me Kitty. Ah well. It could be worse. Actually, it has been worse.


My scary fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Jones, used to scowl and call me Chucklehead with that stern scary mean-face of hers /shutter. I hated it at the time, but again it could have been worse. (She called my brother PeeWee). I learned later that she had at least one Chucklehead and one PeeWee every year and often more than that. Those kids were always her favorites.

Then there was that mean girl who called me Ratty once instead of Kitty. (I had my own private little nickname for her...heh.) Mean girls suck. Luckily, that one didn't stick. Her bad rep did, though...heh.


One of my best friends nicknamed me Tikki when I was 16 years old, awkward, tongue-tied, and ludicrously naive about everything. It was given to me out of love and humor and an appreciation for my sad sad little clueless state. None of this has really changed over the years (thus the title of my blog for all those needing me to state the obvious.) This is one nickname I hope I never outgrow.


My sisters have called me SuperFreak for years. They even sang it to me at my wedding reception. We won't go into the whys of that one. Suffice it to say the name fits.

I know I'm rambling. Here's the point. Names have power, and I've been trying to decide what to call my children when I refer to them on this so-very-public-I-think-I-might-throw-up blog site. It wasn't an issue on my private blog. I didn't let pervs and pedophiles read it, so I never felt the need to hide their identities.


I've been reading other sites to see how other people handle this. Very few of you use your real names. Some people will use only their first name and then nickname their family members with cute little terms of endearment (gag). Others tag their kids with a descriptor that tells me exactly what you think of your kid (i.e. Pookie, Hellboy, Daddy's Little Princess) I don't want to saddle them with monikers they'll hate me for nor do I want any self-fulfilling prophesy (again...why would ever name your kid Hellboy?)

By far the most common (and most annoying) are those blogs that use only initials. I'm not the only one either. This guy says it better and (insert warning here) much more colorfully than I could. All I gots to say is amen to that... sing it brotha.

So what's your opinion? Do I try and come up with a possibly permanent nickname that the people who will pick out my future nursing home will have to live with, or do I risk putting the names of three groovy teeny people out there on the big bad scary interweb?


(edited for atrocious use of commas)

Smooth as a Baby's Bottom

Some people learn from the mistakes of others. Some people have to make their own mistakes. Guess which person I am! They say you gain a new wrinkle in your brain every time you learn something new, but what if it ironed one out every time you did something ridiculously stupid? How smooth is my brain after the last couple of days? Let's see how it all shakes down.

Things You Shouldn't Eat After A Root Canal

while you're still numb....

1. Mashed potatoes. Afterward they're fine. Until it wears off they'll just stick to your lip or run down the side of your face. 1 wrinkle gained.

2. Swiss steak. Yes it is quite tender and oh so yummy, but when you can't tell if it's steak or your lip you're chewing, you should probably not try and chew it. 1 wrinkle gained.

3. Orange soda. Even with a straw you just look like a drunk Elvis with orange soda running down his face. Check out this pic of my sister who made the same mistake....heh. 1 wrinkle gained. 1 wrinkle lost for not learning from her mistake.

4. Chocolate chip cookies. They're crunchy, and you'll look like a gerbil nibbling his kibble. 1 wrinkle gained 1 wrinkle lost.

5. Really you just shouldn't eat anything until at least your eyelid stops being numb. 1 wrinkle gained. 1 wrinkle lost for not learning this much faster.

After the Numb Thaws you still shouldn't eat:

6. Anything sweet. Sugar hitting a raw nerve is a special kind of pain...I just can't talk about it right now...sniff. 1 wrinkle gained.

7. Fruit roll-ups or anything, really, that will stick to your teeth. (They say it's fruit, but they LIE PEOPLE.) It's mostly sugar that glues to your teeth and won't come off without divine intervention all the while causing you the most exquisite pain possible not to mention the pain in chewing this rather hard tacky substance that hardly qualifies as food. 2 wrinkles lost. 1 for the sugar lesson you should have already learned, and 1 for not thinking about how sticky this stuff is.

8. Anything crunchy or with nuts. This includes Doritos. (They weren't sweet. I thought I'd be okay.) 1 wrinkle gained, 1 wrinkle lost. Of course something this hard is going to slam down the pain on an exposed nerve.

9. Yummylicious Godiva Truffles you got as part of your anniversary gift that are really really sweet and covered with nuts. 3 wrinkles lost, 1 for the sweet, 1 for the nuts, and 1 for the smooth texture that will stick the sweet in there insuring the most exquisite pain will last a while.

10. Lucky Charms. 2 wrinkles lost. How much crunchy sugar have I eaten the last 2 days anyway?

Score: -6 wrinkles, and we're having tacos for dinner....Mama would be so proud.

Live Comedy

In honor of my 10 year wedding anniversary (which is today) I shall not spend all evening complaining about my teeth, yelling at my kids, or cleaning my house. I should probably do a little of that last one, but I won't. (Just for you sweetie, cuz I luuuuuuuuuuuuvs you sooooo much. /grin) Neither will I spend all evening working on another blog post that no one will read but you.

I will, however, repost my favorite post ever from my soon to be deleted myspace blog. I know you liked it before, dear. Have another laugh at my expense. I love you. Happy anniversary.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Live Comedy

So I was recently asked to write about a reference I made to a past performance I mentioned in this blog of mine.

Go ahead. Go catch up. I'll wait................/begins humming the jeopardy theme song.......

/twittles thumbs.........

/glances at the nonexistent Movado on her wrist.....

/Jeopardy song hits final key modulation and...

done now? Are you sure, cuz I really don't mind. Well, I don't actually want to sit here all day. I don't particularly enjoy wasting time, but I guess I could. for you. cuz I'm nice like that. sigh. I am such a good person...

So to please all you sadistic readers of mine (and give you a little chuckle at my expense) I shall now recount my latest disastrous performance.

Ahem. James, my worst heckler biggest fan, had again asked me to accompany him on this solo he was to sing in church. I took a look at the music, and it was no problem really. It was several pages long with a repeat and a Coda which required back and forth page turning, but the music itself was certainly not anything to worry over. I practiced all week anyway just to be sure I had done my part and could be totally confident on performance day. The only real issue I had was just how many page turns I had to manuever. You see, I learned many years ago never to trust anyone else to get my pages turned. Those people just can NOT be trusted. Not. A. One.

So many types. There are page turners that aren't careful to turn just one page at a time. They grab two pages, or the the music sticks to their fingers so they can't let go and all but push you off the bench trying to fix it. Some page turners don't pay enough attention, get lost, then turn the page too late. Others get over-anxious. They are so worried they'll miss a turn that they jump the gun and turn a whole line too early, realize their mistake and then try to turn it back. Then there's the emo-turners (my personal favorites...not) who get so involved listening and feeling the experience that they forget the whole purpose of them being there is to TURN THE DANG PAGE FOO!

ahem. flashback....sorry.

I have always since quickly turned my own pages or memorized bits and pieces or taped little handles on the music... done something to insure myself I would always be in the right place at the right time. This time I struggled more than usual to find a good method. I worked at it all week to no avail and ultimately, I decided to stretch each page across the front of the piano to avoid having to turn pages at all.

Fast forward to performance day. Rehearsal that morning went great. James, my worst heckler biggest fan was in top form, and I followed him like a dream. We both were feeling quite pleased with ourselves and anxious to get the show on the road. I also play for the choir who rehearse before church(but not the congregation. That's another pianist, except when she doesn't show up. Then it's all me baby!) I thought I'd be all smart and set my stuff up early so all I had to do was sit and play later on. I put her hymnal on top open to the correct page and everything (cuz I'm nice like that.)

GO time came, and I went and sat down, removed the hymnal, and began to play. It was going pretty well. Until the second page that is. It was so odd. I was playing the music, I hit all the right notes, but it sounded so off. James was giving me weird looks. Then it hit me. My music was out of order. Really out of order. One page wasn't even music. Do you have any idea how difficult it is try to and skip around while accompanying someone? It's impossible. I totally FREAKED.

Everything that follows is so absurd, y'all, that really it should have been made into an old black and white silent film. So picture, if you will, an old timey t.v. set…speed up the action…cue the clown music…raise the curtain and…

Lovely Pianist has to get this straightened out and fast. Obviously she's playing the wrong page (insert laugh track) but where is the right one? (cue sinister music DUNT DUNT DUUUUUN) She starts to vamp (badly) with the right hand while the left hand tries to sort out the mess. What's this? (gasp) Is that the right page? GET IT FOO! She grabs at the music sending it shooting straight off the piano to the floor. "OH NO, NOT THE FLOOR" our tragic heroine cries. Lovely Pianist disappears from view, reappears and slams music onto piano. EUREKA. It's time for the second verse. We must go back two pages to repeat, but wait! What is this? Music is not only upside down but backwords too? "OH COSMIC THUMB", she cries as music flies off the keyboard in every direction "THOU HAST SMITTEN ME YET AGAIN." Lovely Pianist tries again to correct this problem. "AHA" she cries triumphantly as the piece of paper finally settles securely onto the piano. "I CAN CONQUER THIS MOUNTAIN! But alas. It's not so. That's not her music. That's not even music.

Things are desperate now. Who will save our lovely pianist from this nightmarish moment? Will it be the Lovely Pianist's friend, Brilliant Conductor, in the first row? She desperately sends visual pleas for aid to no avail. (Cue Camera 2) Brilliant Conductor is busy wrestling B.C.-Minis. Perhaps it will be Other Pianist who screwed up said music in the first place who happens to be sitting right beside the Lovely Pianist's lovely piano. (Cue camera 3) She desperately sends curses of pain, torment, and ultimate death again to no avail. Perhaps some loving being from on high will intervene and put things right? She prays with all her might. "WHAT? WHAT'S THAT ABOUT CURSES? " sigh. No avail.

Cue Curtains.

I did straighten it out eventually. It took me till the last page to do so. The whole audience watched this Comedy of Errors in the meantime. I have no idea how they could even hear James sing with all the paper ruffling and commotion going on. I have thought about the whole mess several times since then. Have I decided to go with a page turner in the future? Heck no, man. Next time I'm bringing duct tape.

So there you have it.

/Lovely Pianist takes her bow, and then glides gracefully off the stage.

I'd Rather Have a Root Canal...NOT

I hear this a lot. Don't you hear this a lot? People saying they'd rather have a root canal than listen to this horrible speaker, or they'd rather have a root canal than go out to dinner with those people or go out with that weirdo guy. For some reason, having a root canal seems infinitely preferable to lots of things that are thought to be unpleasant.

I've thought a bit about this recently. How bad can a root canal really be if so many people would prefer it? It can't be all that bad, can it? My little sister claims it's no big deal. (Yeah right. Go read her post.) So does my mom.

I've gone to great lengths in my life in hope of not having any problems with my teeth. I brush, I floss, I have horrific nightmares in which I always feel my teeth falling out into my hands that I for some reason feel the need to show my Dad. (I know, wierd, huh?) I always have my check-ups, and I haven't had any problems at all for close to 20 years.

Well folks, today I had a root canal. And let me tell you. I'd rather listen to that horrible speaker, go on that ridiculous date, have dinner with those people, jump out of a two-storey building, run naked through the streets yelling pollywolly doodle all day, and then get hit by a mack truck. Suffice it to say I'd rather do just about anything than ever have another root canal.


Now, I could go into a great detail about how this sooo wasn't my fault, how this was inevitable repair work from that jerk of a dentist from my childhood (who I sincerely hope rots in that place I can't name cuz my mom will probably read this.) I could talk about how nice the people were even though they turned up the happy gas so much that I almost blacked out. It totally freaked me out of my gourd, so they had to unhook me and start all over to keep me from screaming and running out of the room whilst drool ran down my chin.

I could talk about how they almost suffocated me to death when some moron in another room turned off my oxygen, so all I had to breathe was yes, more not so happy after all gas. I could talk about that horrible high squeal that radiates throughout your skull drilling closer and closer to the nerve that will haunt me to my dying day, or the pain I am now dealing with even though the tooth in question never once hurt me before this procedure.

But I won't.

Seriously, folks. It would be better to just have all your teeth pulled than risk a root canal. At the very least, make them knock you out first. I shall have nightmares forever more.

And thus it begins

I am one of the world's unluckiest people. If there is something horrible on a restaurant menu, I will order it. If there is a bee in the room, it will sting me. Toilet paper will undoubtably attach itself to my shoe, and it always rains when I'm wearing my glasses. I'm a trainwreck, really. It's not my fault. My life, I believe, is one big joke of the great Cosmic Thumb. What, never heard of it?

Let me explain.

The Cosmic Thumb belongs to the great tormentor of the universe. He sits around bored all day watching us peons down below just struggling to survive. He decides maybe he could have a little fun at our expense. We're just gnats after all, so down comes the thumb pressing onto the forehead of some unsuspecting little person just going about daily life. See how she squirms...watch how she gets up again and again. Dumb little gnat can't even see what's knocking her down. The Thumb follows random unfortunates around just to see how long the fun can last.

I'm kidding....kinda.

I am one of these unfortunates. The craziest stuff happens to me. A lot. I talk about it incessantly to my husband, usually when he's desperately trying to go to sleep. He claims I'm intelligent, opinionated, funny, and quite frankly....wierd (Hmmm. Can't argue with that),but that I should speak up when life happens. This has proven difficult for me in the past, but I really think I should speak my mind. (How else can I take over the world?) I shouldn't bottle up my thoughts and feelings. I think that what he really means is that he's tired of me chewing his ear off and wants me to start chattering at other less tired people.

Anyway, it's a challenge. I am a total mess. I trip and stumble and very often fall flat on my face. Might as well blog about it. Maybe it'll be easier to pick myself up ,laugh, and move on. What's the worst thing that can happen? I'll give it the ole college try, and should you start snoring I promise I won't try to smother you with my pillow.

Is there a thumb-print on my forehead?