I met Southern Sage by way of Half Nekkid Thursdays and we pretty much immediately hit it off. He is always quick with a kind and supportive word…the man appreciates the nekkidness! One of my favorite things about him is fact that he will take suggestions as to what photos we would like to see for his HNT posts. (Thanks for the hot hand shots!!)
The other day he interviewed me and if you feel so inclined this fine Monday you are welcome to check out his site for me being pimped by Sage. Just click HERE.
In other news, my weekend was awesome! Donnie, his wife and their youngest daughter came down from their big ass farm with no animals in New York. We went to the baseball game Friday night and watched the Mets beat up on my Pirates before Collective Soul put on a fantastic concert and fireworks lit up the sky. Lemme tell you, the Pirates sure as fuck know how to put on a hell of a fireworks display. Whew! (My attempt at photographing fireworks will show up sometime this week. Too funny.)
Saturday it was up around 4:30 to get my act together and get out to Chippewa (almost in Ohio) for a charity golf outing. Every year for the past nine years or so I volunteer at this wonderful outing, raising money for Melanoma cancer research. My NOT SO little cousin (you remember Twinkle Twat from our April adventure to Maker’s Mark in Kentucky, right?!?!) met me there to help me at the putting contest, plus we had daughter of Donnie Van Donnie to assist. Basically Twinkle and I drank, daughter of DVD did all the work. Yay, slave labor! Good news is the outing raised over ten grand on only 60 golfers. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahoooooooo!
After the outing we headed across the state line to the Shaker Woods crafts festival in Columbiana, OH. As much as I hate shopping, I love this show. Over 200 crafters in the woods, set up in permanent wooded structures, dressed as Shakers selling any type of crafty crap you can think of, and then some. When they closed at five o’clock, we were ready for the hour plus drive back to the Burgh anyhow.
After quickly taking care of the dogs it was off to dinner at Benihana. Yum! Home by 10:30 or so and oh so ready for bed.
Sunday held another baseball game with DVD & family, then home to take care of the dogs before heading to Nakama for dinner to celebrate my cousin Sarah’s 21st birthday. Great fun, lots of sushi and insanity. And now I am home, too fucking tired to get photos together from my camera so that they could be posted here. Instead you get a stupid cell phone image of my craptacular sunburn.
Yeah, I should know better than to wear a big honkin necklace to a sunny baseball game. Sheesh!
I wasn’t feeling well in the morning, so I hadn’t eaten all day. Sarah’s ultrasound was scheduled for 1:15 and we were there forever because Baby Donnie wouldn’t move the damn umbilical cord to let the techs see if she is a she or a he. (While I am convinced the baby is a girl, not knowing “officially” sure is maddening! It would be nice to name the baby in advance.) Lunch was a necessity.
Neither of us could really pick a restaurant because we were too worried about calling everyone with news of no news. Until my brain bounced quickly from the neighborhood we were in to a Japanese restaurant to another (better) Japanese restaurant to Chinese. The Olymics are in China. lets do Chinese food. Not just any Chinese food, but P.F. Chang’s Chinese food, to be exact. Yum. There was no doubt about it, I was pulling a U turn.
At 3:30 in the afternoon there were hardly any other patrons in the place, so we had no trouble getting a table. We ordered the lettuce wraps (a MUST) and decided to also do the crab wontons. Waiting for food seemed to take forever so we were each playing with our digital cameras. Hers is a Cannon, mine is a Nikkon.
Food arrived and we devoured the tasty treats quickly. Honestly, they didn’t have a chance between a pregnant woman and a famished woman! Smiling and feeling satisfied that we broke the world record for food obliteration we started playing with the cameras again. Sarah’s knows horizontal from vertical like an iphone. Way cool. Sarah’s camera will do black and white while leaving one color (like red….hehe). Sarah’s camera will shoot in Sepia. Mine? Not so much. Anyone wanna register a guess as to who paid double what the other paid for their cameras? (Le sigh. Who has a bridge they wanna sell me?)
Turns out we each have some sort of “up close” setting. I’m pretty certain “up close” isn’t technically the setting, but you get my drift. We both started taking photos of the garnish on the crab rangoon plate (at that point, the garnish was the only thing remaining!). So, can you tell the $250 difference? Who has the better camera:
Oh, and her fancy schmancy camera that cost half what mine did and I am not even bitter about? Took this photo:
(does this change which camera you are gonna vote for?!??!!!?)
EDITING COZ I NEED TO TELL YOU: Britt and Karl will be ending their professional smoking careers on Monday. I smoked for over 12 years and know that quitting ain’t easy. Give them a little love if you can, please. Click HERE for Britt’s website and HERE for Karl’s website.
This time my HNT Guest is a gorgeous woman, trying to take photos of herself to send to her new husband who is in the military and therefore entirely too far away. Personally I think she did a damn fine job! And I love, love, LOVE that she giggled when showing me the photos, then quickly offered to throw one of the pictures up on this site for HNT.
This blog has become so much of who I am and so many folks recognize that. Seems I am not the only one who appreciates the rush you all offer. How cool is that??!?!! Thanks, Internet!
Next Thursday is back to me. And I can guaranfuckingtee that my photos won’t be as smoken hot as this one. Whew!
Until next week, when the theme will be the Olympics, head over here to visit the comments to find other participants.
Cousin Sarah and I went to her first ultrasound today. Good news is the baby is healthy and everything like kidneys, brain, bones and heart are growing exactly as they should. Spine looks great. Yay! Everything is good. Except baby is all about stretched out, lounging in there, and got the umbilical cord positioned right between its legs. So we have no clue if Sarah is having a boy or a girl. That whole “help us name the baby” thing? Yep, we still don’t know if the baby should be Donnie or Donnie. hehe
Best part of today, for me, was that Sarah asked me to be with her at test. How cool is that?!??! We all know I won’t be giving birth (EVER), which means that it isn’t like I would ever have this opportunity to see a baby that I love before I can actually hold her.
Cracks me up that seeing the baby via ultrasound is kind of like talking to all of you guys. You are there, I just can’t hold you.
Oh, I pick Sarah up and we do an errand before heading to the hospital for the ultrasound. Park way close to the door because pregnant woman has to pee. REALLY has to pee. Seems that little errand and the drive was enough to have her bladder at capacity or something. We walk through the hospital, wait a week for the elevator, squeeze on with a kerjillion other people, ride to the fifth floor, walk all the way to the end, find the very last office which is Sarah’s doctor. The locked door. They are closed and can’t sign the paperwork, but the ultrasound folks don’t care about the paperwork. Problem is baby is causing Sarah to be about to pee herself. Of course I find this hysterical. Which gets Sarah to giggling. And waddling down the hall, into a different office, hollering that the pregnant lady is about to pee herself, do they have a bathroom. Sarah bolted as fast as she could into the back of the office, I stay and giggle with the women about pee your pants stories. Coz I am shy that way.
This blogging thing is pretty damn amazing. I have been fortunate enough to “meet” folks from all over the country and even a few outside of the USA. Really interesting people with so much to share…knowledge, support, encouragement, kindness and more. TequilaCon and BrittCon even provided me with the opportunity to put skin on some of these new friends. While I have never had a problem meeting people and making friends, my life is better because of the new Internet people in it. Whether they open their homes and share their kids with me, drop me an email when I am having a bad day, offer me a porch for sipping margaritas or send me a coupon for shopping, these new friends touch my life every bit as much as the friends I have here in Pittsburgh.
Back in the fall of 2007, close to the beginning of Shreve’s Daily Coyote, I happened upon a link to the site and immediately fell in love. I purchased a calendar and several prints, plus joined the email list. Just fell in love with the photography, the writing and the subjects.
The other day Shreve, via Twitter, sent out a message that her grandmother had started a blog. Her grandmother who just so happens to be 90 years old. She is quite the pistol. And I am in love.
If you never got the chance to sit with your grandparents and hear the story of when they first arrived in the United States, if you love history, if you enjoy catching blogs from their inception, do yourself a favor and head to Shreve’s Gram’s site. To date there are less than 15 easy reading posts up and they are so well worth the time. She certainly has me wanting more.
Sven is the first half of my maiden name and Sto is the first half of my married name. Voila, a mysterious foreign sounding name was just what I had searched for.
Ξ August 11th, 2008 | → 24 Comments | ∇ me |
Back in the fall of 2000 I slipped and fell on the basement steps. Whacked my calf pretty good. Didn’t think much of it, even when I got a charliehorse that wouldn’t go away. Limped around for a few days. Drove 5 or so hours with a coworker to a trade show in Hershey, PA…she drove and I elevated my leg on the dashboard. High heels seemed to ease the pain. So did large quantities of alcohol.
Drove back to Pittsburgh complaining of the pain in my calf. Worked the next couple of days in heels, still unhappy about the knot in my right leg. Until the light bulb went off. I walked into the boss’s office and said, “Would you think I was crazy if I said I think I might have a blood clot in my leg?” He laughed at me and informed me that he knew I was crazy and that I should take my gimpy self to the doctor.
So I drove to my doctor who said it might be a Baker’s Cyst or it might be a blood clot. All I heard was “cyst” which somehow translated to cancer in my brain. Terrified I drove to the hospital where Mom worked so that I could have an ultrasound test done. Only took a moment for the tech to say, “Oh yeah! There it is!”
Turned out I had a blood clot about six inches in length starting behind my right knee and going down the calf. I had plans that weekend to go up to the Allegheny National Forrest to a cute little B&B. Already had tickets to ride the Knox, Kane, Kinzua Railroad’s steam engine train. “So what is next? Do I just come back on Monday and you do some surgery or something?”
Yeah, I was smiling that I didn’t have a cyst. Turns out Baker’s Cysts are nothing, but blood clots are big deals. The tech wouldn’t even let me stand up to call my Mom, instead she brought me the phone. Sobbing, I told Mom that I was being admitted to the hospital for the week and could she please take her lunch hour to visit me after they got me a room. Of course there was no way that Mom was going to let me get just any room, she was immediately by my side and ensuring that I was placed in a private room.
For a fucking week.
Yep, seems that IV blood thinners and oral blood thinners take some time to work when your blood is as thick as mine was. So after a week of both types, they decided I could leave the IV. They sprung me from the hospital with just Coumadin for the next six months. No fun, lemme tell ya. Seriously, Coumadin is nasty, nasty stuff. Rat poison, pretty much. Too little, I could get another clot and die. Too much, I could bleed internally and die. No fun. (Speaking of no fun, they threw my birth control pills in the garbage with a strict warning to never touch them again. Never touch hormones of any kind. When “the change” starts? No happy pills. Just ice water for the ole hot flashes. Grrrrrrrrreat.)
I have been off blood thinners for years, but take aspirin and folic acid and fish oil and any natural blood thinners that I can. Salads, asparagus, cole slaw, broccoli and all foods high in vitamin K are limited before I fly anywhere, and never eaten on consecutive days. All because I have a genetic mutation that makes my blood wanna clot. When the doctor said genetic mutation I interrupted and hollered, “Like the Turtles?!??!!!” (Yes, I was over 30 when this happened. Shut it.)
Dave isn’t the only Mutant running around. Although he tends to think of himself along the lines of Wolverine and I consider myself more akin to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
The cute, fatter Turtles from the 80′s and not the ripped, tough Turtles.
Go ninja, go ninja, go!!
A friend has a camp about 75 miles northeast of the city. Nuttin fancy…a trailer, an outhouse, a swing, covered picnic tables, several four-wheelers, an outdoor beer refrigerator, a fire ring. We are talking the television, which rarely even gets powered on, has rabbit ears. The kind of place where people go to talk and laugh and drink beer around a fire. I love it there.
Friday we drove up after work. One dog, three people, three vehicles. (Sigh, bad planning is terrible for the environment.) This is the first time that I took a dog with me. Couldn’t take them both, so Reilly of course got to go while Ludo spent the night at a friend’s house.
The camp’s owner, who insisted I not put his photos on the internet, is a terrific drinking buddy. We have known each other for almost 10 years because we used to work together. He loves to drink the way I do…entirely too much, not nearly often enough. He introduced me to The Modern Drunkard and my “inner monkey” (although I still do have major issues with drinking alone). I didn’t want to bring my inner monkey out so I wore a hat and the t-shirt I won from Dave…his Bad Monkey was the only little fucker I wanted to see this trip!
Immediately upon arriving the booze and music were brought out. And we didn’t quit until we passed out. I only burned the crap outta myself once (although that little fiasco did lead to my singing “I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire” all night ). Considering I drank a bottle of Svedka Clementine vodka and more shots of Irish whiskey than I care (or can) remember, it is a happy miracle that I didn’t hurt myself worse. All in all there was plenty of laughter, which is always a good thing.
All the laughter made the killer hangover somehow worth it. I woke up on the couch with a wicked headache, but Reilly had to pee and eat breakfast so I somehow managed to get vertical. Soon as he was done we were both back on the couch, desperately trying to catch up on sleep. Entirely too early I awoke again to the Veggie Tales cartoon, all fuzzy on the TV. While I don’t remember turning the set on, I was told that I insisted on watching the Olympics before I would go to sleep. Somehow I don’t doubt it a bit. My favorite part of the day was waking up and seeing all of those trees out the window behind the couch. Least favorite part of the day was the moment after that, when the hangover crashed in.
The drive home was brutal considering that it was a stunningly sunny day. Somehow I made it to pick up Louie and get us all home safely. We all did nothing for an entire day…just recuperated at home on my couch. It is bad when the glow of a monitor might bring on violent hurling, so I didn’t even so much as turn on the computer. The day away from you all was certainly needed, but I missed you. Missed you enough to be typing today with my nasty burned finger…
The past couple of days I have read some pretty funny drunken peeing stories, one that even had another character sharting herself. Got me to thinking about some of the embarrassing things that I have done in my life…drunk or not. There is no way one little post could possibly hold all of the stupid shit I have done, and yet when I really think about those stories, I find that I am really not embarrassed by them. Sure, at one time I probably was mortified, but life happens, I do dumb shit and the world continues to rotate.
However, even though the world is rotating, I still find it difficult to walk into the veterinarian’s office without at least blushing a bit. I was so embarrassed by an event that occurred a few years ago that I always make sure to get any of the vets in that office except the one that examined Ludo when he was a little over five months old and roughly 45 or 50 pounds.
Naturally I was already having “a day” when I had to leave work early, pick up the puppy and get all the way out by the airport to the vet’s office. (They have been taking care of Reilly since he was a baby and it was natural for me to just add Ludo to their client list. It was simply a checkup appointment, probably with shots or something…but basically in and out.) As usual I was running a tad late, so when we arrived they quickly ushered my flustered self into an exam room. Thankfully I had taken the time to change into wearing old crappy clothing because I was already covered in dog hair. Sigh.
All the rushing to get to the vet’s office and there I sat, without any reading material to entertain me, just sitting there looking at the ever growing puppy. Lou’s parents were rather small German shepherds (dad was 70 pounds and mom was 75) and I had it in my head that as the runt he would top out around 65 or so. Boredom and curiosity started to get the best of me, so I decided to pick up Ludo and place him on the metal table that is also a scale. As you can see from the photo up there, he never minded a bit when I scooped him up, so I bent over, without using my knees the way we are all taught, and gathered Louie in my arms. Just as I started to stand up, ass sticking way out, I heard a terrible ripping noise and midway in my lift I froze in the realization that my ancient grubby pants had split up the back. Fuck. Giggle. Giggle some more.
Ludo was quickly put on the scale and I kept giggling as I took off my long sleeved button down shirt to tie around my waist. (Everyone who knows me will appreciate that of course I was wearing a tank top under the long sleeved shirt.) The puppy did great on the scale so I got him down from the table scale in the way too small, way too hot little room and sat myself down in the little chair awaiting the doctor.
She was a woman I had never seen before…hurried and harried. It was obvious that she didn’t want waste time, that it was the end of her day and she wanted to head for home. In an effort to help speed up the process, I offered to pick up the puppy and put him on the scale exam table. The vet seemed grateful that she didn’t have to crawl on the floor after Lou so I squatted down in the totally incorrect lifting position, again wrapped my arms around Ludo, began to stand up and proceeded to rip the loudest, longest, nastiest, smelliest fart that I have ever let loose. There, in mid lift, I froze. Ass sticking out, puppy in my arms. Frozen. Only my eyes moved, darting from the doctor’s eyes to the puppy and back to the vet. My brain flashed the faintest glimmer that possibly the vet might have thought Ludo was having gastrointestinal issues instead of me. It was painfully obvious that I was the one who blew ass, just as it was painful to stand in mid squat for so long. I stood up, tried not to throw up from the immediate stench, and placed the dog on the table.
Did that really just happen? Can I make it uphappen? At that point I didn’t know what to do or how to act. My cheeks were burning red from embarrassment and I could feel the heat starting to travel to both my ears and neck. Might have been the lack of oxygen, might have been the pure mortifying knowledge that the fart’s ringing was still in my ears as it was probably in the doctor’s as well.
For what seemed like days, we both stood unable to breathe or move or think. Until the doc, with one hand’s back on her nose, used the other arm to gesture towards a light switch on the opposite wall. She choked out the word “fan” and I excitedly flipped the exhaust on. The exam room was so small that the fan quickly took away the odor, but by then it was too late. I could never go back.
Well, at least not to her. In the five years that have passed I make sure to ask for a doctor by name. Any doctor. By any name except the woman’s who was there the day I split, and almost shit, my pants.
NOTE: Yes, the photos in this post are old and I look much younger than I do now. Fuck you. Can you believe that they were taken only maybe 5 years ago? Sheesh, time flies considering that November will bring Lou’s 6th birthday! Ludo now weighs 90 pounds and we aren’t even gonna discuss what I am up to these days.
As you have probably read, I joined a bowling league at the begging of a great friend. NOT something I wanted to do. I will completely admit to usually having a pretty damn good time, though. Lots of ass slapping and boob shaking and even a lap dance from the hot old guy help. But my favorite part is listening for phrases that sound dirty, yet aren’t…
- stay out of the gutter
- you love the split
- here, hold one of my balls
- I suck
- slide your fingers in
- he said he would drill my equipment
- use both hands
- I will not finish with 69
- dammit, i finished with 69
Yeah, I giggle a lot at bowling.
And now for today’s photos. I did not break a nail bowling the other night. Yay!
But you might be wondering about the photo on my lappytop there…
Don’t forget to check out the other HNT participants over here.
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Two word survey, no more, no less. From MySpace. (That site I always forget to check and yet people still email me there. Sigh.)
1. Where is your cell phone?
2. Your significant other?
3. Your hair?
4. Your mother?
5. Your brother?
6. Your favorite thing?
7. Your dream last night?
8. Your favorite drink?
9. Your dream?
10. The room you’re in?
11. Your ex?
12. Your fear?
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years?
14. Where were you last night?
15. What you’re not?
17. One of your wish list items?
18. Where you grew up?
19. The last thing you did?
20. What are you wearing?
21. Your TV?
22. Your pets?
23. Your computer?
24. Your life?
25. Your mood?
26. Missing someone?
27. Your car?
28. Something you’re not wearing?
29. Favorite Store?
30. Your summer?
31. Like someone?
32. Your favorite color?
33. Last time you laughed?
34. Last time you cried?
35. You are with?
35. Who will re-post?
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