Best worst decision ever

I've made some bad decisions in life.  Any of my high school photos can tell you I don't know how to style my hair. I typically make dinner decisions based off what would best be topped by cheese, not by what's best for my waist line.

But the decision I've made recently is easily the best worst decision ever.

Abby (my BFF) made a bold decision to get motivated and organize a team to run the Marine Corps Marathon this year for the organization she works for. She was apprehensive and gung-ho all at once.  I mean, she's a Marine vet and has run the MCM once before.  It was the organizing a team of 25 people to come out and run in honor of Disabled American Veterans PLUS running a marathon that was daunting for her. 

So I did what every best friend does and said, "Sure! I'll help you."

Somehow (my memory is a little fuzzy how this happened) we got from "That's so exciting! I'm all about helping you organize the team and finding runners," to "Hey! Why don't I run it with you?"

Yeah. I decided to run the Marine Corps Marathon... just like that.

How does that even fucking happen? I HATE running.  In fact, some of my most popular blogs talk about how much I really hate running.  Like really, really hate it.

So why not go ahead and decide I want to run 26.2 fucking miles.  Psssh! No big deal.

Then I started to think about the people I've seen running the MCM when I cheered on Abby. I saw tons of disabled veterans running.  I saw a double-amputee running.  I saw a couple blind guys running it.  I saw guys juggling and girls in tutus. I saw thousands and thousands of others out there running it like it was no big deal.  All in support of the Marine Corps and the sacrifices service members and veterans have made.

That's when I realized that if they can all do it, so could I. I have no excuse in the world big enough to get me out of it.  Because if a guy without legs can run 26.2 miles, then my fat ass needs to get out there and suck it up. 

It helps that I'm running to bring awareness to others about DAV and what they do to support veterans.  It also helps that Abby will be there to support me. And it also really helps when the MCM public affairs team posts videos like this that make me cry and motivate me to do it. Because honestly, I can, I just need to get off my ass and do it already.

So from now until Oct. 27, please expect plenty of bitching and complaining updates about running to go along with the crazy crap Elly does. And if you'd like to travel to the D.C. area to support me along the way, feel free.  Because honestly, I'm going to need it!!!

Linking up this week with Yeah Write. It's a great community for writers who blog and bloggers who write.

Chubrub

I hate running.  No seriously, I do.  I hate running and always have.  But I've finally hit my limit of being round and would like to be less round.  The fastest way to that is by not eating brownies every day (not going to happen) or at least only eat a few a week and start exercising. 

So what did I do?  I started the couch to 5K program.  I hate it already.  But I hate being fat just a little bit more.  I haven't always been fat.  Only in the last few years (5ish) have a I really been working on packing on the L-Bs.  At least I have skinny pics of myself to look at and day dream about the days of single digit pants.  I have a physical goal I can look at and obtain.

Back to running.

Running seems to be the "in" thing.  Everyone's running.  I hate it.  But I also like to be a part of fads.  That's why I own an Iphone. 

I got my ass out of bed this morning for another day of training on the C25K thingy.  And by this morning, I mean early.  How early?  Not even the dog, who loves to run (bitch), would get up to go out with me. 

As part of my "I quit" plan, a part of wanting to run was to feel comfortable in my running clothes.  So I got some cute new, color-coordinating shorts and a shirt.  I tested the shorts out as much as you can in a dress room without falling face first into a wall or mirror.  But I thought, "cool, these will work."  Wrong.  Turns out that my fat thighs are now so fat that when I run in shorts I get chubrub.  What's chubrub?  If you don't know, you're skinny.  If you do know, then you know how much it sucks. 

I got back from my jog/walk this morning and went to go look up the crap real runners use to make sure they prevent chaffing.  Having just done some god awful running, my mind was foggy.  Instead of searching whatever it's called that runners use, I instead searched for "Astroglide." 

Uh, yeah.  So at 6 a.m. this morning my google was going nuts with lubricants best suited for another form of physical fitness.  To add to my demise, Elly woke up bright and early (but not early enough for a jog with me... SEE!  No one wants to run!) and was extra clingy.  I thought for sure she was going to have to join me in the shower if I was ever going to get ready for work.

But on the plus side, I finished another day of C25k.  And I'm signed up for my very first 5K!  I've invested the money (which I vow to stop wasting) and Abby is signed up as well (this is her fault).  It's September 8.  So stay on my ass (there's plenty of room) and make sure I don't waste my money.

But really.... I hate running.  I'm a moron.  Kill me now.

Check me out on Yeah Write.

A Few of My Favorite Things

In the spirit of end of year review mania that seems to hit our country about this time every year, I figured I'd jump on board.  And as a side note: until I started working in news I never knew why every single tv, radio, paper, magazine, etc. puts out a best of at the end of the year... until I wanted some down time around the holidays too.  So what's the easiest way to create that for yourself around the holidays?  Just rehash all the shit you've already done and call it "new"s. 

Anyway, even though I've only been a part of the blogosphere since July (and I took that trip to Jupiter, aka fell off the blogging planet) I still feel like I've got some gems in my archives.

So here are a few of my favorite things (in no particular order):

1) Breastfed Thighs
I'll do my best to keep the positive about my thighs come the end of January.  That's inevitably when swimsuit shopping season begins and I'd much rather slice my left hand off with a circular saw than expose my thighs to the world (or expose the world to my thighs depending on how you look at it). 

2) What Did I Step In?
I feel like I step in a pile of shit every week.  Some weeks are shittier than others.  But this one just tops them all.  I mean, seriously.  What the hell is wrong with people?  Clearly advertising geniuses know how to plug their products with cute babies.  Because people will literally look past whatever shit you've got when there's a cute baby to look at instead. 

3) Got Milk?

This is actually a blog from my early days.  I hadn't really introduced everyone to Abby yet.  But I realized since I talked about her so much as a friend, that she just needed to be named and be a full-blown character in my daily crazy.  The main part of the blog really was word for word an email I sent her after being fascinated and disgusted by my cow-like ability.  And although I've stopped breastfeeding, I'm grateful for having endured that crazy shit for as long as I did for Elly.  She'd better be a grateful little kid when she grows up or else! 

 

4) Losing My Hair.. and Marbles

I still chuckle a little every time I read this.  And then the chuckles are drowned out by my tears of sadness over my awful hair.  I have had it cut into a nice, hot-mom cut.  So at least my hair is a lot more manageable than when it was longer.  And by the way, I STILL haven't found that freakin' calendar yet! 

 

5) Tinkling

I actually have to go use the little girl's room right now.  So I'd better stop what I'm doing and take a break or else I may have a code yellow alert!

 

6) In Search Of...

It still truly amazes me how your body completely changes when you're pregnant.  And then morphs into something completely different after the baby.  I'll never understand people (specifically insensitive asshole men) who say, oh you're just lazy that's why you don't have the exact same body after having the baby.  Uh newsflash dumbass, it doesn't work like that.  Not only am I searching for my ass, I also grew bigger feet.  No amount of zumba is going to fix that shit! 

7) Being an Adult Rocks!

I crack up every time I eat a deli sandwich now because I only think of windshield meat.  If you ever end up tossing turkey on someone's car and they eat it, please let me know!!!! And if you do witness that, I hope you scream at them "BEING AN ADULT ROCKS!!!"

8)BOOBS!

This is still one of my all-time favorites.  Because I am so impressed at how many different ways I could work the word boobs into the blog.  And because of that, I actually had a few people stumble upon my blog because of their key word searches.  Here's what can land you in Betty's world if you google it: "Big Milk Boobs," "Boobs," and my personal favorite "Boobs Rock the World."  Yes, yes they do! (PS, I'd love to know who googled "I'm not doing that" and found me!!!  LOL! What the hell aren't they willing to do I wonder!)

9) Vanilla Tuna

There are some people in this world you meet and never remember again.  And then there are some people that leave a lasting impression on you for the rest of your life.  The stinky girl in my Navy school is one of those people I'll never forget.... and I'm so grossed out by it!

10) Caught Red Handed

Elly just kills me some days.  Every day she's learning, exploring, and absorbing new information.  She amazes me... right up until she's caught red handed doing something shouldn't have done but has no idea that it was a no-no.  I clearly have a long road ahead of me teaching her important life-lessons.  And I feel like a lot of them are going to be really messy!

11) Pumpkin Pie and Jail Time

What's terrible about this pregnancy memory is that even though pumpkin pie is my absolute FAVORITE dessert and it's what I love more than anything for my birthday cake, I still haven't had a slice in 2011!  Sad :-( I better get on that before the year is over and I better make sure I don't go to jail getting pumpkin pie!

12)   That's Not Fair

The phrase "That's Not Fair" could quite possibly be one of the most famous sayings heard in my house growing up.  Either (or in my opinion, mostly) my sister or me would utter that phrase whenever we had felt slighted.  Our mother was very careful to make sure that things were as fair as you can make them for two completely different-minded children constantly at each other's throats.  So I feel like because of that, I have an obsession to try and make things as far as possible in the world when I can.  However, there are things that just can't be helped.  Like the fact that Snookie makes millions more than I do.

Well there you have it!  Betty's favorites of 2011.  I can't even imagine how exciting 2012 will be!  In just a few short months Elly will be a year old, Stoofy and I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary, I'll go on at least 12 tirades threatening to kick someone in their shins, and on top of that, I've got the regular comings and goings of life to chronicle. 

Please be sure to follow me on Facebook, become a fan of this blog, and most importantly TELL YOUR FRIENDS!  I am a narcissist and I need constant positive approval.  So the more people who like me, the better I feel.  JOKING, but not really.  Force your friends to like me if you have to.  It's fine, I completely approve of it!

And I'll have plenty more to add before the year is over... but until then, thanks for enjoying 2011 with me!

Caught Red Handed

This week (actually the last 2 days) I've made some major rookie mom mistakes!  The first being way worst than the second.  I'll start with the lesser of two evils first.

Tonight I had to run a few errands.  I knew it was close to Elly's bedtime, but I had no choice.  I have to do what I have to do!  So I packed her up and headed on my way.  I barely made it a half mile before she started screaming.  She's screaming because it's nearly bed time and she wants to be rocked to sleep with all her usual night time fanfare.  None of this bundled and tied into a carseat crap.  And what was my rookie mistake?  Not having a freakin' binkie!

Man did I swear up a storm at myself.  I mean, it's not like I don't have the mom purse (you know what I'm talking about!  That jumbo-sized monstrosity you lug around to haul all the shit you can't fit into the diaper bag because your husband packed retarded shit in the diaper bag and you're too exhausted to fight him on it so you just stick it all in your purse instead? Yeah, that thing.) on the front seat.  Yet, there's not one single binkie to be found. 

You want to know where they were?  Four of them were lined up next to each other on the bedside table ready for night time combat ops (or you know, a little thing normal parents like to call bed time). 

So what did I do?  I just endured it.  That's right.  There's nothing I could do but suck it up.  No speeding, no dilly-dallying or chit-chatting.  Just there, pick up stuff, and go.  Because she's in the back seat wailing! 

Can you say MOM OF THE YEAR?

But the big kahuna of the week is way worse.  Yesterday, in all my wonderful glory, I put Elly in her make-shift play area.  It's a good play area for her with lots of space and toys to play with.  We've blocked off the Christmas tree and she can't get out to freedom (aka, the stairs).  And so I put her in her area and turned my back for a minute. 

EP-IC MIS-TA-KE!!!!!

I all of a sudden here a splat and her playing with what sounds to be a solo cup.  Now this is something that's my own fault.  Stoofy and I have gotten in the habit of giving her one to play with.  So to her it's a toy.  For us it's cheap entertainment for 10 minutes. 

Turns out I didn't do a great job inspecting the living room before I turned it into her play area.  There was a wayward half-cup of red Koolaide.  And Elly got her grubby little hands all over it!

When I first saw her I started to freak out because she was splattered head to toe in red.  My first thought was Red= Dead.  So I scoop her up and checked for bleeding.  Nope, nothing. 

And then the realization that I'll be replacing carpet hits me and I look around to see what happened.  I grab Elly's hands and see them clearly stained red.  The white/beige carpet is a nice hue of pink.  And one of the throw pillows is a very festive shade of red to complement the green and white stripes the manufacture meant for it to have. 

Awesome.  Not only do I suck as a mom, I now suck as a friend and roommate too.  Triple wammie!  I think that means I've Pressed my Luck and lost.  FML.

And of course all of this happens minutes before I have to run out the door to be somewhere to meet people.  Clearly this is one of those moments where you realize being a mom is great... just not every single second of every single day.  And why the hell does this shit have to happen when dad's not around? 

Needless to say I'm now a proud promoter of the powers of Oxyclean.  If you catch your kid red handed and need to get the Koolaide up, just think of Billy Mays.  Since he's obviously looking down from heaven for all us rookie moms out there.

Quit Your Bitching

No seriously.  Just quit your bitching right now.  Whatever you're whining and complaining about right now isn't that bad.  Unless you're complaining about someone's life in mortal danger, you don't have it nearly as bad as someone else this holiday season. 

Overall, this has been an incredibly hard year for me and Stoofy.  Probably the hardest year of our lives.  And if it weren't for Elly, we both agree this year could make it to the top of the list of worst years ever.  No joke.  Yet, we've got our health.  We haven't gone completely bankrupt.  We've managed to get through our hard times and things seem to finally be picking up and tides have turned.

Abby's been having a rough go of things this week as well.  There's nothing like waking up one morning and not being sure if the sky is really blue, if up is actually up and if there's anything in this world you can actually trust and believe in.

I've got another friend whose father was nearly blind, had surgery for his eye and ended up coming through great.  That is, until he got in a very serious car crash this last week.  He's got some very serious injuries and on top of that, his eye surgery from earlier this year could be seriously affected. 

But this weekend has been one of the hardest for one of Stoofy's friends.  God bless my husband.  He did something heroic that not everyone can say they've done.  He actually saved a friend's life.  His friend has been having a rough go of it for YEARS. 

He's an Army vet with very severe PTSD.  He's had some seriously bad breaks.  His ex-wife left him with 4 kids (not all of which are his) as she went on a multi-state crime spree and ended up in federal prison.  His mom, who he cares for,  has had cancer.  And he's having an incredibly hard time keeping a job.  So of course that means he's not making ends meet. 

His story will make you cry.  It makes me cry every time I think about it.  And Friday night he finally had enough.  He began saying his goodbyes to the world.  And that included my husband.  But Stoofy recognized the signs and immediately went to his house.  Thank God he did.  Because without Stoofy, his friend would have ended his life.  His reasoning is that his kids would at least get more from social security than what he could provide for them.  He couldn't even afford to send them to a Christmas party for $3 each this year. 

He finally had enough and was ready to check out.  Without Stoofy, he would have.  But my husband got there with enough time to take the gun away from him.  And he and I have been working feverishly the last couple of days to get him help. 

Because there is nothing worse in this world than to know one of our true American heroes, who has sacrificed his life for our country, can't provide for his young children.  That we as Americans have let him slip through the cracks.  Our government, and the system Congress keeps fucking up daily, has failed him greatly.

So for God's sake, before you start complaining that you don't have enough time to finish that last batch of cookies or that you ran out of bows for your kid's presents, just shut the hell up.  Because you have nothing to complain about. 

Elly's New Friend

So Elly has a new friend.  Actually a couple new friends.  You may be wondering how the hell does a 9 month old have so many friends?  Well, don't worry.

One is Mickey Mouse.  And not the one you and I grew up on.  This one is a digital CG animated one who sings "Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog!" (The tune is actually pretty catchy.  So much so I googled the words so I could sing it right because there's nothing more annoying than making a fool out of yourself singing a children's song wrong.)

And I mean "Oh boy!" (please read that in your high-pitched Mickey Mouse voice) is the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse one of her favorite shows.  For being so young I'm worried about her watching any kind of TV, yet she seems to really enjoy MMCH so much that I find I give in to it.  That and it's sucked me in.  Disney bastards. (please read that with a gruff, annoyed mom voice.)

Her other new friend is my savior! She's Ms. B and she's Elly's care giver when Stoofy and I are at work.  I knew she was the one when Elly slobbered all over her face upon meeting her.  Not to mention that Ms. B didn't seem to mind one bit! 

Ms. B is a God send for me!  She makes my days easier since I don't have to worry about Elly every single second I'm away from her.  (And let's be honest, of course I'm going to, but the level and brain power that I use to worry is much less because of Ms. B.)

She helps me keep track of what Elly's been eating.  How much she's been sleeping (or rather, not sleeping), and just entertaining me with videos of my daughter having laughing fits at the dog! 

Ms. B even made christmas ornaments with Elly for us!  I couldn't be more pleased! 

And what's crazy about the whole situation, is that originally Elly was going to be watched by another friend of mine.  But after she found new employment (2 weeks before I started my new job), we were back to square one.  I had a minor panic attack (not that I fault my friend, but the timing was pretty fucking scary!  I'm pretty much anti-major change), but Ms. B was there to step up to the plate I like to call Ms. Bakedgood's Wild Ride!

So now she's got a total of nine friends: Mumma, Dadda, Mema, Aunt Abby, Charlie, Moxie, TT, and Mickey and now Ms. B.  I can't wait to meet her 10 month friend!

I Have a Confession

Today I made a pretty major confession to Abby.  She and I (now that we're all roommates) gab often when we catch each other in the evenings.  We like to catch up and talk about girl things.  You know... the latest reality show junk, politics and how things are going down the shitter, sports (What? girls like sports!  Especially hockey!), and of course, Elly! 

We also talk often of our beauty regiments because honestly, we’re not getting any younger.  So of course, gray hair came up in the conversation.  I told her how every time someone cuts my hair, I request they check for grays.  Abby informed me that one of Bif's jobs is to be on gray hair lookout.  (Not really sure if he likes that job, but it comes with the boyfriend territory.  Prepares a man for much worse during marriage.  I'm just sayin'...)

His other job is to help knead the knots out of her ass. 

Yeah, you heard me right.  And no, it's not a sexual thing.  I have the same damn problem.  I make Stoofy help massage my flabby ass often.  You see, there's a pinched nerve deep in the fatty tissue that is my buttocks. 

I think I read a long while ago (maybe like 10 years ago in health class) that women commonly have problems like this because of the way their nerves run through their pelvis.  The shape of a woman's pelvis is different from a man's to make room for pushing a watermelon through her cu-ca during child birth.  Basically to sum it all up, shit gets pinched. (Note: I am not a medical expert.  If you try to use this as your own personal web-MD, I’ll laugh at you and call you a moron.  If you have a problem, go to the doctor dumbass.)

WARNING: the next part is going to get real, folks!

My ass has been acting up pretty bad this last week.  I got so desperate that I began to get creative with objects to help alleviate the pressure.  (Stoofy's been working long hours and has no desire to punch his knuckles into my butt.)  I found the most perfect thing in the whole house!  It's seriously an object no woman should ever be without!  (Especially if your man's not around to help!)

NO YOU PERV! Get your mind out of the gutter!

It's a spatula! 

Yup, I was so desperate the other day in the kitchen that I whipped open the kitchen drawers and looked for something hard but gentle, long but thick, and pointy enough to get the job done.  It just so happens that Abby has the most perfect spatula in her drawer and I snagged that bitch and immediately plunged it into the right side of my ass. 

And wouldn't you know, it did the trick!  That was the most relief I've had in days.  I finally got full feeling back to my leg, no pinched pain radiating from the deepest of my pelvis. 

After I was done, I did the right thing and threw it into the dishwasher to be sanitized.  Because even though I didn't do anything inappropriate and I had clothes on the whole time, it seemed incredibly necessary.

I also had no intentions of telling Abby.  Because even those she's seen just about every inch of my body while watching me give birth to Elly, and I've witnessed her changing her pants in the front seat of my car, there's still some things that should probably be left unsaid even amongst your very best friends.

Well.... until today.  When she mentioned that Bif was on butt patrol as well as hair lookout.  I couldn't help but fess up to her that if he's not around, the best tool to help with the pain was her spatula.  To which she busted up laughing uncontrollably because honestly, how ridiculous is it that your roommate just fessed up to using the kitchen utensil you use to flip flapjacks on their ass to also reduce pain and pressure?  It's pretty absurd. 

But I felt a lot better after confession.  And that's what's good about confessing things.  It gets it off your chest and now she'll understand why she just got a brand new spatula without my having to lie.  And I’ll know where it went to if I don’t see Bif around for a few days and there haven’t been any pancakes around.

Adventures from the Marine Corps Marathon

Sunday, Abby and her boyfriend Bif finished the Marine Corps Marathon.  Talk about exciting! I mean, 26.2 miles is just NUTS!  To willingly want to spend HOURS Running... well... we all know how I feel about that.  Abby and I have decided the next marathon she'll be participating in is a RHWOWhatever marathon.  And I'll be joining her with the ice cream.

Needless to say, I'm very proud of her.  It's truly amazing and it's one more thing she can cross off her bucket list.  (Here's a tip: don't try to play the one-up game with her.  She's been to war, been shot at, and now finished a marathon.  She can kick your ass!)

I was also really impressed with how many people came out to run the marathon.  People of all ages, shapes and sizes.  I saw a kid who looked like he was 12 running.  I think he was actually 14.  Still, that's just nuts!  I saw some very senior looking men running.  They clearly were older than my grandparents.  Unbelievable! 

I saw countless amputees running and cycling.  At mile marker 11, I was standing next to a family who was cheering on their dad.  He was a double amputee.  When he saw them in the crowd, he pulled over and dropped off his arm.  (Yes, he actually dropped off his ARM.) Apparently it was bothering him. 

And I saw at least 2 blind guys running with their seeing guides.  To see a blind guy running a marathon is pretty amazing.  If you aren't a runner and you already felt bad about the amputees kicking your non-athletic ass running, watch a blind guy pass you by.  You'll hit non-runner rock bottom right there.  (And then the 12 year old kid running will pass you by and kick you while you're down.)

I saw at least 3 penguins, a couple bananas, a woopie cushion, 3 guys in suits, 5 guys barefoot, tons in those stupid 5-finger shoes, one guy in moon shoes, plenty of tutus... on men and women (mostly on women though), a woman with booby tassles (the kind strippers at 'Gentlemen's Clubs' wear), a donut and Dunkin' Donut coffee couple, 3 hot shirtless guys, a couple bumblee bees and lady bugs, and TONS of running pumpkins. 

I saw a lot of funny signs too!  Abby's sign on the back of her camelbak said:

Needless to say, she's just as funny as I am, if not more.  (Side note: She's 90% sure that Drew Carey commented on her sign during the run.  She only got a glimpse of his profile, but she's pretty sure it was him.  If a professional comedian thinks you're funny, then you're definitely pretty funny.)

Other signs of note Abby and I saw during the day: 'You're one step closer to beer!' 'Staying up all night to make this sign was hard too.' 'Hey perfect stranger, you're doing a great job.'

One thing that I did see a lot of was good and BAD race spectator behavior!  Here's a tip, if you're going to cheer on at a race, then you'd better learn the dos and don'ts or be prepared for me to yell at you (like I did to the dad and his kids and the group of middle-aged women who kept standing in the street, clogging the path for the RUNNERS). 

Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT stand in the road and block the path for runners!  They've got 15.2 more miles to go and don't need to be tripped up by your dumb ass who can't get a good enough glance at the people running past you. 

Also, don't run in front of them to get to the other side of the road.  You wouldn't run in front of a speeding bus to get to the other side for a better look at it would you? Then why the hell would you run in front of a SWARM of stampeding people running at you? Unless of course you're practicing for Pamplona 2012. 

Do cheer on the runners.  But don't tell them they're almost there when they have more than 15 miles to go.  Even as a non-runner I know that.  Telling them that is like telling a fat kid that he can have an entire cake when you've really only got a mini-cupcake to give him.  Such a letdown!

The best way to cheer them on is to call out their numbers or for the cool kids who put their names on their shirt (don't worry, this is normal runner behavior.  It doesn't mean they should be riding the "special" bus.) you could yell RUN JIM RUN!!! (However, if you're one of those people with a crazy name because your parents didn't like you, maybe you should go with a nick name since morons like me can't figure out how to pronounce your name. Especially if you're speeding past me in a heard.)

I know the next time I cheer at a marathon (it won't be Abby's since she's vowed never to do it again.  She's going with the 'one and done' policy.  So we'll be cheering on Bif) I'm totally bringing a cowbell and a bullhorn... one with an airhorn in it.  Because I want to be so loud that you can hear my cheering you on the entire running course.  By the way, I'm available for all your cheering needs.  Just let me know when you're next sporting event is and I'll be there... with bells and a bullhorn!

New Goal, New Desire

This Sunday, Abby is running in the Marine Corps Marathon.  This will be her first and she's super nervous.  I am excited for her.  She's excited about the dunkin' donuts at mile marker 24.  We're both fat asses.  The difference is she's more willing to run to ensure it's not so obvious... unlike me.

She mentioned tonight that she would be devastated if they ran out of donuts by the time she got to mile 24.  She even threatened to quit right then and there.

My part in this marathon is to motivate her.  So what did I promise?  To make sure that there would be a batch of no-bake cookies at the finish line waiting for her. 

So while her goal is to finish the marathon, my goal is to not finish off an entire batch of cookies before she gets there. 

Now, there's no way (not even on a full out hungry day) I could finish off that many cookies.  However, that's not to say I couldn't find a way to barter with the other people sitting around waiting for their fitness-minded loved ones to finish the run.  I'm thinking 2 cookies could easily get me 30 minutes in a comfy chair.  And then I figured out what my real new goal is!

To bring you all a blog of what it's like to be at the end of the marathon waiting... Is it like a big swap meet?  Will I really be swapping my cookies for other people's services? Or will we be swapping battle stories of race spectating past?  Who knows?

What I do know is that I have no desire to run 26.2 miles.  But I will be cheering on my crazy friend who does have the desire!

Can I Have Your Attention Please?!

Since I began writing this blog I have been shamelessly trying to get people to read it.  I'm actually a little impressed by my desperation to have people read it.  You'd think I'd be embarrassed by my craziness, but no.  I'm not.  Not even a little bit. 

You see, I lost all my dignity during child birth.  I don't have a shred left.  So to think I'd have a little when it comes to virtually spilling out my life on the internet for literally the whole world to see, I don't mind one bit!  (Unless you're one of my grandparents.  Then it's not really shame, but honestly Grandma, you're not old enough to read this shit.  Thank God you still don't get the concept of IMing yet, let alone a blog!)

Finding ways to get people to read my blog is actually less awful than child birth.  Ya, ya... child birth is such a wonderfully, beautiful thing.  You're bringing another human being into the world.  And yes, it is a miracle and yes I LOVE MY DAUGHTER.  However, giving birth at a teaching, military hospital is no joy.  Every doctor in that building comes in to stick his head up your gown to check your coo-ka.  And after that, every nurse in the hospital is in your room because they heard it's comedy hour.  (Stoofy and I did tell jokes and I really did half laugh Elly out... just ask Abby!)  It's like a parade of the vagina.  My vagina.  How the hell are you supposed to have dignity after that fiasco?

Whereas blogging is less intrusive...physically.  Not all of you know me personally.  And the more and more of you that tell your friends about me the more and more distant I become to you.  So why shouldn't I go all out in my quest for virtual popularity?  This is like my virtual quest for Homecoming Queen DOMINATION!

I had a friend create a special image just for me as my logo.  (And a big shoutout to Team Solo for the awesome image!)

I have become a fan of various websites, blogs and facebook pages, all in hopes they will return the favor. 

I have had a contest to get more followers and the person to refer the most friends won a batch of cookies.  (By the way, I went from 26 followers to nearly 90 between followers and fb fans!).

I have made business cards and left them at Starbucks.

I have advertised on Craigslist.  (Which by the way was fruitful because I gained another reader and got a fun email from him!) 

I have added fun key words to my blog like BOOBS.  And thank God I did! Otherwise the 14 year old boy who just googled "Boobs rock the world" wouldn't have stumbled across Betty!  (No shit, someone actually googled "Boobs rock the world" and got my blog.  I really hope I rocked his world with my words! And I really hope he was a he and was 14 and not some creepy 45 year old perve.) 

I have entered contests with freefringes.com.  Freefringes is all about helping get the love to the little guy like me in the blogging world.  And I've just entered another contest!  So when I post the link, I really hope you all vote for me.  Because I will be shamelessly begging for your love and attention and more importantly, your votes! 

Because honestly, all I want is a little attention please!

Locked Out Update

So, let's go back in time to the last week of my life.  I've been frantically moving out of my base housing and in with Abby.  Yup, Stoofy now has sister wives!  YAY!  (Except no hanky panky for him with Abby!)

So anyway, we moved into Abby's.  YAY!  And we got all settled.  Sunday night was our last night at the old house and I went back late into the evening to finish all the final inspection cleaning. 

Earlier in the day Abby and I had discussed how we needed a Harry Potter/ Mrs. Weasly clock.  If you're not an HP fan, it's a clock that doesn't tell time, but rather where all the members of the family are.  We need one because everyone has a funky schedule and we don't want to lock anyone out in the evenings. 

HAHAHA!  Funny because that same night, that's what happened to me! 

I had texted Stoofy at 9:30 saying I was wrapping up and would be home soon from the old house.  I got home to Abby's after 10 and everyone had gone to bed.  No biggie, except not only was the door knob and deadbolt locked, so was the top secret lock... the one that locks you out!

I took a moment to chuckle, thought long and hard about knocking or ringing the bell, but decided not to.  I didn't want to wind up the dogs and get them barking.  Because then that would wake the baby.  And I was too tired to deal with a crying child.

Instead, I just started texting Stoofy. 

10:40PM
 I'm locked out.  Wake up please!!!
Wake up please!!!
Wake up.
Please get this text message.
I'm locked out.
Come open the door.
I don't want to wake the baby.
By throwing rocks at the window.
Sometimes you sleep through everything.
I hope you wake up soon.
I don't want to wake up everyone by ringing the bell.
I'm locked out. 
Please wake up!!!
I'm LOCKED OUT!!!!!!!!
I wish you slept with your ringer on!!!!

Did I mention that my iPhone is awesome and can do everything... except make a call right now?! It's jacked up and hasn't been able to make a call in about 5 days.  So even though I tried calling Stoofy, it's only static.  And that's all he can hear.  And that's the voicemail I left him.

It's also the reason why I don't call Abby.  That, and the next day is her first day at her very first, brand new, grown-up job post military!  YAY! How exciting!  I wouldn't dream of waking her from her beauty rest before such a big day! 

Instead, I walk around the house, looking for sticks and small stones and start throwing them at our bedroom window.  Hoping to wake my husband.  No dice.

10:55 PM
To Abby:
I'm really sorry to wake you when you're about to start your new job tomorrow... However, I'm locked out.  Please come rescue me if you get this message.

More rocks at the window.  And a little loud talking through the open window.  Nothing...

11:05 PM
FB Update: FML, this day is ending just as sucky as it started. I'm locked out and everyone's phones are on silent. And I'm not about to ring the bell and wake Elly and make my life even more miserable. I guess I'll continue to throw rocks at the window and hope I don't break anything!

11:09 PM
To Stoofy:
Wake up!!!!!
I don't want to wake the baby.
I'm really cold and tired.  I'd like to sleep in a bed.

By this time I decide it would be a smart idea to try the patio door.  However, to do that, I have to wedge myself under the gate to get to the patio.  It's too high for me to climb over, so under is my only option.

I'm an above average round woman.  Squeezing through this hole wasn't hard, but it wasn't exactly easy either.  Check the sliding door.  NADA.

So I crawl back under, dig through the trash and grab some long pieces of crown molding that Abby threw out.  I then try to reach the window with them to knock on it.  I'm too short.  So I pull out the patio chair.  It's one of those tiny bistro set chairs that looks like it could barely hold me if I was sitting out there with my cup of coffee.  I climb up on it without a second thought and start banging away at the siding.  NOTHING!!!! 

Are you fucking kidding me? 

The neighbors are awake and can hear me.  I'm thinking I really hope they don't call the cops on me.  That would really fucking suck trying to explain this one.  Plus, I am working hard at keeping the title of my life "the child who hasn't gone to jail."  I'd hate for this to be the reason I go.  If I go to jail, I want it to be because I either ran over some liberal asshole, or because I stalked General Odierno a little too much.  (He's my military crush... I'm a dork.)

I take some pictures because it’s pretty fucking funny I’m still stuck outside. 

11:17PM

To Abby:

So... About that last text.  I'm still out here.  I've crawled under the patio door trying to get in that way.  It's Ft. Knox here.  I also started throwing rocks at the window trying to wake Stoofy.  No luck.  Here's hoping you'll see this.  If not, I hope you have a HUGE chuckle on your first day at the new job.

Still, no one is waking up.  I spend the next 20 minutes writing a blog, facebooking my perils and just having a good laugh. 

11:33PM
Blog update: Locked Out

11:35 PM
FB Comment update: I'm waiting for the baby to wake up because she's hungry. And seeing as I'm the only one in the house with a food supply strapped to my chest, someone should eventually notice.... Or tonight could be the night she sleeps through the night. In that case... FML.

11:40PM
To Stoofy:
I'm going to the jeep for a bit.  I really hope you wake up.
I'm parked next to the truck. I hate my life today.  This sucks more than you can know.  I'm laughing pretty hard though.
It's pretty funny overall.
For the LOVE OF GOD WAKE UP!!!!!!!!
And check your phone!
Ok, I tried rocks again.  Nothing.  I'm back in the jeep.  Next to the truck.  I'm going to hate life tomorrow.

If you're wondering why it is that I didn't just ring the damn bell or knock on the door.... I had already committed to this line of reasoning.  I had already decided that waking the baby up wasn't worth getting inside faster.  It was more worth making sure she slept through the night if she could than me sleeping in bed.
I am terrible at reasoning when I'm sleep deprived. 

12:11AM
To Stoofy:
I guess you'll eventually realize I'm not there when you wake up in a couple hours for work.  Let's hope she sleeps in today.
I'm pretty sure I'm going to want to kill myself at some point today.  I need sleep.
Please look at your phone!!!

Now I've got the heated seats running and I'm napping a bit in my car.  Still holding out hope that the two people I live with that both say that they're light sleepers and wake up in the middle of the night for everything, finally wake up to the sound of their phones vibrating from my text messages.  But not so much.

At 12:37AM  Stoofy finally wakes up and sees I'm not there and tries to call me.  But alas, he only hears static.  Seriously world?  What the fuck did I do to deserve this?  I text him back:

I'm coming to the door now.  Let me in please.  The front door. 

He let's me in.  Baby's crying.  My dog is going a little nuts.  He says to me, what took you so long at the old house?  Seriously?  I've been fucking locked out for 2 hours.  I've been texting you and calling you all night.

S: I only have 3 texts from you.
B: Uh, try again! You have like 50.
S: Oh, yeah.  Sorry.  Why didn't you just ring the door bell or knock.
B: Because I didn't want to wake the baby.
S: Too late, she's crying right now.

12:49AM
Abby to me: Hello?
B: Well, I'm in the house.  Elly woke up Stoofy and he figured it out!  I'm good and I just got in.  Have a great day at work!!!
A: We SO need a system!  I'm sorry!!!
B: I'm crying I'm laughing so hard!
A: BF just called me.  He saw it on your facebook!  He tried to save the day!
B:  That's so nice of him!
A: Hilarious blog though... at least some good came out of this.  No one can say you aren't a dedicated blogger now!

Talk about a great laugh moment! And I've learned my lesson: Just ring the damn bell because the baby is going to wake up anyway.  It's better to get it done and over with faster!!!!

http://lovelinks.freefringes.com/2011/10/18/lovelinks-27-open/?utm_source=feedburner

Pumkin Pie and Jail Time

Fall is by far my favorite time of year.  I love the cooler weather, the clothes, the sights and sounds, and most importantly I LOVE the food.  Fall food means the best of the best: squash, pumpkin anything, apple pies, and the big kahuna: THANKSGIVING DINNER! It's like a fat kid's delight! 

And this time of year brings back a very strong memory for me.  It's something that I did about this time last year.  I'd like to say it wasn't me, but then it wouldn't make for a very funny blog.  It's a little something involving pumpkin pie, my hormonal rage, and me... nearly beating a woman up and a punk-ass teenager. 

About this time last year I was about 4 months pregnant.  I had cravings, but my cravings consisted of people who had food needed to leave my smelling radius because everything made me want to puke.  I was sick nearly every day until about the 6 month mark.  So the fact that one night I even got an actual craving that wouldn't pass after the thought of it made me dry-heave was a little extraordinary!

It was after 10pm and Abby had just left to go back to her place.  Stoofy was in Kuwait in the midst of his contract out there.  So I was on my own and I needed pumpkin pie.  And I mean NEEDED it!

So I climbed into bed thinking, I can let this pass.  If I fall asleep, I won't want it anymore and I'll be fine.  That lasted all of 5 minutes and then I climbed out of bed, put on something decent to go out in and hopped into my car.  I was on the hunt for fresh baked pumpkin pie.

I knew that being the end of September meant there would be pumpkin pie available. (It’s fall time for God’s sake!) I knew exactly what store would have it too.  Harris Teeter.  Because I had been there the day before and saw the pies lined up for display at the front of the store. 

At 10:10PM I arrive at HT and walk through the door.  I can't wait to get to the pies all sitting there waiting for me to snatch up and eat on the car ride home.  Except when I got there, they were out of pumpkin pies.  They had sweet potato pie, but everyone knows that's totally different.  Even if you smear it with whipped cream, I knew I would be able to tell the difference.

So I scoured the rest of the store.  I went through every pie in the bakery section.  Checked behind random loaves of bread just in case some jerk tried to hide one for themselves until they got off shift.  I'd show that asshole!  But alas, there was no pie.  I checked the freezer section thinking, ok I'll just find myself a Sarah Lee and pop it in the oven.  That bitch creates pies that take an HOUR to bake! Uh, I needed my pie fix immediately!

What's a hormonal pregnant woman to do?  Search the store and buy cinnamon rolls for breakfast the next morning, juice and lemon poppy seed muffins because they've got the best ones.  And that'll hold me over until I get to the next store.  I did pass the baking section and thought, damn, it'll take too long to bake my own pie.  I'll just go to Giant and get a pie there.

As I check out, the cashier asks if I found everything ok.  Uh no, you do you have any pumpkin pies left in the back? I'm seriously craving them and I want one. 

And the pimple-faced douche bag bagger turns to me and says, "I bought the last ones about an hour ago.  (ha ha) If you want a slice I'll sell you one in an hour when I go on my break. (HAHAHAHA)."

To which I respond, "Listen here you fucking asshole, I'm pregnant and I want a fucking pie now.  Don't be a prick and tease me."

I quickly paid and left the store before the manager, who was headed my way, could escort me out. 

Now I'm just pissed! I want a fucking pie and if I could figure out which car was that kid's I'd consider breaking in for a slice.  Then I decide going to jail tonight wasn't going to be the best decision... so on to the next store.

10:35PM- I arrive at Giant and make a beeline to the bakery section.  I leave no slice of pie unturned in my quest for pumpkin.  They've got cherry, apple, sweet potato, pretty much everything but pumpkin.  And nothing is going to do until I get a slice of pumpkin.  So I start sprinting (as fast as a pregnant woman can go) to the freezer section hoping I can find a pie that doesn't take an hour to bake.  But as I get to the freezer section I start to search people's carts as I pass them, hoping to find my pot of gold.

Low and behold, I do!  There is a woman with a pumpkin pie in her cart.  So I rush up to her in a panicked frenzy and ask her (in my mind it was with good, friendly intentions.  It came across as scary and abrasive) if I can have her pumpkin pie.  She says no.

I explain to her I am pregnant and I really NEED that pie.

She says no.

I dig in my purse, pull out a $20 and start shouting I'LL GIVE YOU $20 IF YOU GIVE ME THAT PIE! I'M FUCKING PREGNANT AND I NEED THAT FUCKING PIE!

She starts to walk away scared.  I take a few steps after her yelling... it did me no good.

Back to the freezer section.  And yes, they do have pies that take only 25 minutes to bake... but they’re all out.  I'm nearly in tears and I want to scream at the top of my lungs (which I already had at the woman with the pie). 

I storm back out of the store feeling defeated.  But across the street I see the hazing red light of a bulls eye sign.  FUCK YEAH! Target is open until 11PM tonight!  And it's only 10:50!!!!  I zip across the street and throw it into park.

I don't think I've ever hustled as fast as I did to get into the store.

I run to the freezer section and find a pumpkin pie, and it only takes 25 minutes to bake!  FINALLY, VICTORY IS MINE!!!  But it's a bittersweet victory.  Because deep down I know it's not going to be a great pie.  I know that with the time it took to track down this pie, I could have baked one in my house already and be sitting in my bed with a warm slice topped with crumb topping like I like and a dollop of whip cream on top.  But I don't fucking care.  I just want the pie.

So I purchase the pie (and vanilla ice cream… ala mode, DUH!), speed home and throw that sucker into the oven.  25 minutes later (plus the time it took to preheat the oven and the time it took to cool and set), I dish up my pie slice and dig in.  Only to find that it sucks just as much as I knew it would.

I go to bed even more pissed and in tears that I didn't have good pie, that I nearly accosted a woman and teenage kid.  And I'm even more pissed that I didn't just buy the ingredients and make my own pie.  Because now that it’s nearly midnight, going back to the store to buy the ingredients and bake another pie is just flat out CRAZY!!!!

Lesson learned: when you have a craving, it's just easier to make it yourself.  And it's less likely to get you arrested. 

BFFs are AWESOME!

Today I'd like to recognize my BFF, Abby.  It's her birthday and she's pretty much AWESOME! 

She's the kind of friend that'll laugh at your jokes even if you're not that funny, help you plot your husband's murder and promise to purger herself on the stand if asked if it's premeditated, and she's willing to turn a blind eye when you're at your worst (and simultaneously best) moment of your life giving birth to your daughter.  (She'll even take pictures for you, but not the seriously gross, gory ones that freak me out.  Because NO ONE wants to relive that mess!)

She's the kind of friend that helps you stalk your favorite hockey team until midnight and won't judge you when you try to squeeze your 8 month pregnant ass out a window 5 stories up just to see if you see your dream husband boarding the tour bus.

                 (Note, that's as far as the window would open, so that's as far as I could squeeze out.)

Abby is the kind of friend that hates the same people I hate.  And helps plan their demise with me.  Because honestly, I'm a sick and twisted individual who watches too much CSI and NCIS, clearly.  But she'll hop on board without a second thought and she’ll bring the Oreos. 

She's also the kind of friend that helps you talk through all your troubles, and prays for you when you think you've just hit one of your lowest points (when in actuality, you could probably slouch even further down, but she won't let you totally tail-spin out of control with that kind of thinking).

But most importantly, she's the kind of girl that when it really counts, she's all in and there for you.  She's truly willing to risk her life for her country, beliefs, and friends.

Finding this kind of friend isn't easy.  We've found out during our years of friendship, that where we grew up isn't far from each other.  Our mothers are very similar in a lot of ways.  In fact, they have mutual friends.  Turns out we could have met sooner!

But timing is everything.

My mom and her best friend are about to celebrate their 40th anniversary as friends.  That's longer than a lot of marriages I know.  They have gone through marriages, child birth/ child rearing, divorce, long distances, pretty much everything that can test a friendship.  And through it all, they're relationship has endured.

It's truly awesome to see that.  Especially in this day and age where women being catty and getting into stupid bickering matches is what makes a top-rated TV show (don't get me wrong, I can't wait to see what happens next with the new chick on RHWofBH).  It's nice to see that's not reality everywhere.

It's that kind of endurance and longevity I pray for in my friendship with Abby.  Because without her, I have no idea who I'll laugh with when it comes time to heckle Penguins fans in Pittsburgh.  And I'm going to need someone to gossip with me when we become snow leopards in the nursing home and we're hitting on all the younger guys!

Because she's that kind of best friend.  The kind of best friend you want to have for the rest of your life.

And she's the kind of woman I hope my daughter grows into.