Grab Ass

I don't know about you, but I have a pain in my ass. It comes and goes every so often and it affects my whole body and mood.

Get your mind out of the gutter because I literally mean a pain in my ass. I have a pinched nerve deep in my fatty, cellulite-dimpled tissue.

It seemed to really develop during my pregnancy. (Don't worry, it's documented in Elly's baby book as evidence when she's a teen so I can tell her she's been a pain in the ass since she was a zygote.) And it's never gone away (much like the stretch marks, also documented for further proof in 13 years).

The thing that helps the most is a deep tissue massage. But since those cost money and I need them so frequently and I'm cheap, I turn to Stoofy for help.

I try and rationalize it as a win-win for both of us: I get pain relief and he gets to grab my ass. But he doesn't see it that way. He sees it as work.

Which I don't get. Why wouldn't he want to help me out? What do you mean kneading my lumpy, dough-like ass isn't sexy? I like it.

And that's when it hits me- I'm old. Grab ass has a new definition and it's lame-o!!!

Dear god! I need an ass intervention!!! Something to perk that sucker up. Do you think Kim Kardashian uses anything special? I hope it's not some extravagant oil potion because I'm on a can of Pam budget.



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Oreo Diet

I've decided I'm on the oreo diet.  It includes oreos, double stuffed oreos, and the SHUT THE FRONT DOOR oreos.  Yum!!!  And since being on this diet as of today, I've already noticed one cool thing: double stuffed oreo cookies actually have stamped on them that they are double stuffed!  See, being on an all sugar diet isn't a bad thing!  I still have my attention to detail :-)

I should add here that I'm not on a soley oreo diet, because that would be crazy.

I dip the cookies in milk, so I'm getting my dairy too. 

And I've passed on my cookie addiction to my daughter.  I have plenty of examples.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Needless to say, she cares more about chips ahoy than oreos, but either way, she still loves cookies.  Just like her mother! 

I don't feel like I'm a bad influence if that's what you're thinking.  At least I'm not feeding her crack or anything.  Or actual cookies for that matter. 

But I, on the other hand, am sticking to my chocolate cookie with cream filling!

Let's do the Time Warp

It feels like forever since the last time I posted a blog... maybe because it has been FOREVER!  A lot has happened in the last week.  I survived my first earthquake, babysitting the neighbor kids (talk about a crack up!), my daughter's first real sickness and trip to the ER, a hurricane, my husband returning and you know, the usual... life.

And it feels like every time I get ready to type something up, I get easily distracted... by something, you know, shiney.  And then I blink and it's 10 days later.

It seems as though the entire time I was pregnant and my life before having a baby was fast pace.  But now that I've had a baby, it feels like life is flying by at warp speed!  Already 6 months has flown by and my baby girl rolls over, sits up on her own, eats food, and waves 'hi.'  I'm sure next week she'll be wearing high heels, asking to borrow my car and drive to the mall to hang out with her friends.  Shoot me now.

Plus, I have less than 90 days left of my military career.  It feels like 7 years has FLOWN by.  It feels like yesterday I was headed off to bootcamp and doing a buttload of push-ups.  And even though I haven't gotten to do everything I wanted during my time in the Navy, I've still gotten to do a ton of awesome things and go to a ton of amazing places! 

I just wish there was a way to put life back on the play button rather than on fastforward.  I most certainly don't want a rewind button, but maybe a slow motion option.  Ultimately, I just don't want to be going through a time warp, I want time to smell the roses.  Not that I like smelling roses, or have any for that matter, but if I had time to, that would be cool. 

So if anyone has a way to slow things down, please let me know!

Role Reversal

As my bio description states, I'm hooking for jobs and pimping myself out in resume form. On top of that I'm saying prayers daily that I some how don't end up homeless and unemployed.  I'm in the process of getting out of the military.  It wasn't my choice, and if I had it my way, I would have served 20+ years.  But my fate is sealed and I'm on my way out due to budget cuts and the changing tide of the Defense Department. 

It happens.  In fact it's happening so much the military as a whole is in a major downsizing.  Worse, is the number of unemployed veterans from the current wars.  The latest unemployment numbers for vets right now are sitting at nearly 12%.  That's about 3 percentage points more than the overall unemployment rate. 

So to keep myself from those statistics I'm a job hunting, networking fool.  Any chance I get, I work into the conversation that I'm getting out of the military and looking for a job, plus I rock.  Why wouldn't someone want to hire me? 

And not every day has been a good one.  There are some days where I think to myself, "Betty, what the hell are you doing applying for that job? You aren't nearly qualified for it, and there's no way you're going to get it.  You're just a crazy kid!" But then I realize, I have nearly 10 years of experience in my field.  I've been doing this for a long time.  And I'm pretty good at it.  Plus I rock!

If you've never applied for a federal job before, let me tell you what it's like.  It's tourture.  Getting waterboarded would be more fun. You need to tailor your resume to each individual job.  Then you have to answer a laundry list of questions.  Half the questions are the same, just reworded differently.  It's not fun.  And then you submit everything and wait weeks to even hear back if you're resume made the cut.

The worst part is when you get a notification that you're qualified, but not best qualified.  What the hell does that even mean? You're good, but you still suck for us.  Nothing like an upper for your Thursday morning. 

Well, all the hard work of applying has finally started to pay off.  I've gotten a couple calls and recieved notice my resume has made it through the first round of cuts.  Now it's time to start getting ready for interviews.

I've been interviewing people on various subjects for 7 years.  I'm pretty darn good at asking questions and getting the exact soundbite I want for my story.  But being the person peppered with questions is something totally foreign to me. 

I'm so scared that they're going to ask me what my biggest weakness is and I'm going to launch into some crazy ass story that ends in my crying over spilled breast milk.  Or worse, I make a completely inappropriate joke about somebody's inept organizational skills and it turns out it's my prospective employer's desk I'm making fun of.  Or WAY worse, I ask the woman escorting me to the interview room how far along she is, and she replies she's just fat.  UGH! 

Needless to say, I'm super nervous about interviewing for a job.  It's an employer's market, not a job seeker's market.  And I just need to prove that I'm the shit (but don't smell like shit)! So the rest of my day today will be spent buying 10 pairs of nylons (because I'll rip a whole in 9 of them just trying to get into them), researching the job and employer, and pattening my P&P method.  (That would be the pray and puke method.)

In the end, I know this is just my way of getting "hyped up" for the game.  And that I'll actually be just fine and will find a great place to work that pays well, has good benefits, gives me all the federal holidays off, and enjoys my witty sense of humor.  Now, if only they'd just reveal themselves to me so I can stop P&Ping. 

A Spoonful of Slop

Tonight Elly hit another exciting milestone: eating soupy food from a spoon!

I was trying to hold off just a little while longer, but she wasn't having it. Whenever she reaches the end of a bottle she gets upset and wants more.

She's her mother's child.

I mean, who doesn't get disappointed when they polish off an IHOP pancake combo meal with pancakes, eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, and sausage? And when you're faced with that situation and feeling exceptionally gluttonous? Well of course you drive through Checkers next door and get a milkshake and fries!

(Let me add that I didn't eat anything else that day. And I made sure to eat salad the next day. Please don't report me to Child Protective Services as a terrible nursing mom! And let me also add that I wasn't alone in my fat-fest, Abby and our friend Fabz joined us and we had just attended a friend's funeral so we needed comfort food. Yes, I'm trying to rationalize eating my weight in pancakes. I'd prefer if you don't judge me, but I'll understand if you do.)

So of course I can't hold it against my own daughter when she wants more food. Turns out, she LOVES food! SHOCKING!!!

It wasn't anything special, oatmeal, expressed milk and a little pureed prunes to add a nice, non-binding flavor. And she just couldn't get the spoon in her mouth fast enough!

She kept reaching out, grabbing the spoon and shoveling her slop into her mouth. She was excited and impatient because I wasn't shoveling fast enough! Obviously I've been hold her back from the good stuff all her life.

And even though she was ecstatic, I was through the roof, but a little sad. Because she's now onto the good stuff. I get to watch her experience new tastes and textures. But I've also got my work cut out for me.

Because just when I thought the oatmeal in the bottle couldn't cause a more disgusting outcome, I've realized this is only going to make things worse. Talk about a five-alarm diaper change!

All because I started adding a spoonful of slop to my daughter's diet. Awesome!


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Tinkling

On my ride to work this morning they talked about embarrassing childhood moments involving tinkling.

There can't be much worse in the way of embarrassing moments than peeing your pants.

The female host talked about the time she couldn't hold it in 3rd grade and it reminded me if the kid in first grade who couldn't hold it. And how mortifying that must have been for him. I still remember him, his name, and that he peed his pants.  That sucks to go to school with someone with a great memory like me. Poor guy!

What's even more cringe worthy was the girl in bootcamp that was too meek, shy, and afraid of the drill instructors to ask to go to "the head." She peed herself in the parking lot after dinner in front of 60 other individuals. I was the closest, but thankfully wasn't directly hit.

It was my job, however, to help her back to the barracks and get her through the embarrassment. Thankfully, our drill instructors felt too bad to make her feel worse. This girl already had enough self-esteem issues. No need to make it worse.

But the radio show host asked callers to regale the listeners with other cringe worthy stories.

I'm fortunate enough where I don't have stories like those from my childhood. However, adulthood and pregnancy are a whole other story!

No one tells you that you're going to pee your pants every time you sneeze while pregnant. And certainly no one tells you that even after you have the baby, and no matter how many kegel exercises you did, you're still going to pee your pants at every sneeze and laugh.

And no one warned me that I shouldn't discover Damn You Auto Correct when I'm one kegel away from being incontinent.  Needless to say, when I discovered the best of for each month, I laughed so hard I actually peed a little.  What sucks more is that those things are so fucking funny, that I just couldn't stop reading.  They're worse than Lays potato chips.  You can't stop at just one. 

I actually had to restrict myself for a few months until I could make sure I regained control of my urinary tract.   

And that's what's so important for new moms to know.  Is that no matter how many kegels you do, it's still going to be a little while before you can laugh your ass off without pissing yourself.  And even then, you need to make sure you hit the bathroom before a big laughfest, or else you could find yourself feeling like the poor kid in 1st grade who peed his pants in front of everyone.  But worse, because adults remember that kind of crap way better than children do! 

Stuck in the Stone Age

Last week my computer crashed. It just up and stopped working with no warning. Usually you get a few blue screens of death to tell you the end is near. Not this time.

And the day after that, I smashed my phone into the ground. I've done this plenty of times before, but as luck would have it, it was my time to reduce my iPhone screen to a web of cracks.

Add in not being at work much, plus my work computer getting moved and refigured so I don't have access and you've got Betty Rubble trying to use a chisel and slate to creat an email.

I tried to get my computer fixed, but the motherboard was fried. I'd like to get my phone fixed but I can't until I back it up because I would actually die if I lost all my pictures and contacts.

As a back up to the back up, I was able to pull out my old computer from college and plug that in for basic email and word processing. But as my mother says, "your computer really sucks."

Trying to surf the web is more like surfing in a tide pool. Watching paint dry is faster and more exciting than using my computer.

And really, I can't blame the computer. It's 10 years old!!! My god, it has a zip drive and no CD burner!!! It's got two decade-old hamsters in there powering it up. (I actually pictured two gray-haired, out of shape hamsters in there, sad they just got called out of retirement)

The thing should probably be in a museum.

And why do I still have my computer from 2001? I was just too lazy to take it to the recycling center for the last few years of weekends I've had available. I'm actually just that lazy.

But as it turns out, that laziness has worked in my favor. Because even though I can't plug in more than two items with USB ports, and getting more than one program to run at the same time is a challenge, or I can hear my mom muttering about the "shitty ass computer," I can still say I have a computer.

For now I'll just do what I can from my relic, and risk injury to my beautiful fingers from my now razor sharp phone until the computer fairy shows up with something shiny.

Little does my husband know that I expect him in a tutu when he brings back his laptop from WA!

Let's just hope nothing else crashes or I don't sustain a thumb injury in the meantime.


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