Analyzations, Constipation, and Heartfelt Thanks

Ahhh, it never ceases to amaze me that I'm so thankful for the structure of a Monday morning. As much as I love Big T and my family, the peace and quiet of my office is sheer bliss. Work is my escape and I digs it.

Analyzation
I have analyzed why, in fact, I resolved not to make any resolutions. I didn't make any, because without a doubt by 12:04 on New Years, they would have been broken anyway so there was no need to bother with it.

I didn't consider a diet, not as a resolution anyway.
The thought of not eating jalapeno poppers at the bar never even crossed my mind. It's the right of any happily married, middle aged woman NOT to starve at a bar, while out drinkin' just because she's a girl & simply put, we don't eat in bars.
God forbid, someone might actually see a girl eating, or think that even though you're a girl, you might be human.

Constipation
It's finally over, and thank God above for it. Childbirth wasn't nearly as annoying and painful as this experience was.

Either the Exlax finally kicked in or the exorcism Big T performed on the demon turd was 100% effective.

Maybe it was drinking the warm water. I did give that a whirl. Maverick's idea.

Maybe it was the threat of buying a snake at Lowes... Chuck's idea.

Maybe it was the weekend attack of porn and Taco Bell as suggested by Rockdog. Happy and FUN idea when you combine the two, by the way.

It was suggested by Amy to punch Big T in the crotch for the simple comfort of making his middle area hurt too, but then porn wouldn't have been as much fun! However, I would have only taken about one more hung chow joke and I would have let him and his boys have it.

Maybe it was the lettuce and spinach sandwich Big T brought me from Subway on Friday. ***Note to self... DO NOT eat jalapenos on a spinach sandwich while gastrically blocked. Sweet Jesus the burn..

I'm just so glad it's over!!! As is Big T, he was running out of constipation jokes.

Heartfelt Thanks
Sunday is the day when our whole entire family (uncles, cousins....) gets together at Gramma & Grampa's pad. We rotate weeks for cooking duty and meet up to eat, play spades, watch NASCAR or football.... Family reunion once a week.

Anyhoo, I had printed out all of the comments wishing Gram's a happy birthday from everyone.

She got all super excited! She thought she had met each and every one of you at some point in the past.

Then again, bless her heart, she thought we were all there to wish her Bon Voyage and that she should hurry and finish packing for her cruise. =)

The happiness in her eyes while she read each word was priceless, kids.
She says, "Thank you for all the birthday wishes!"

I appreciate the all of my friends here on Blogger's Lane. And to answer a question I saw somewhere.... Yes, Blogger friends are real friends.

Cherry Poppin, Fart Wars, Makin Babies & Bankruptcy

You perverts!! I know you thought to yourself... "Ohhhh, Diva's done been rollin' in the woods again."

No. I'm a good Christian girl and I don't roll in the woods or anything of that nature. Not anymore anyway, I got married 2 months ago.

Oh, speaking of pervi-ness. It has come to my attention that I am NOT the only one around this place who had no clue what Half Nekkid Thursday was! Go me! Still doesn't mean I'm gonna tack my rack on my page. (Although it is more of a ragin' thing that I thought).


Anyhoo... the cherry I refer to is the Christmas song cherry. I am a complete and total karaoke junkie. Why, I dunno. It's not that I'm any good at it. I think it's the fact that I can go get hammered and make an ass out of myself and it not bother me.

So, I made the rounds over the long weekend to my favorite waterin' holes to partake in cold beer and greasy food whilst listening to all the other drunk monkies attempting to sing their own renditions of many-a-song. Sometimes can be scary, sometimes can be totally awesome, sometimes I need earplugs to keep from bleeding out my ears.

It's after Thanksgiving and not a single holiday ditty had been krooned. WTF? It's time to get in the spirit and make people accept the fact that they are going to spend more money than Hugh Hefner does on his playmates.

At both Ronnie's and Coyote Joe's, I popped the cherry on the beloved Christmas tune, by belting out Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Actually, I only sang it because I felt the need to pull the Grinch out of my ass. I'm not sure if it worked yet.

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Me and Big T called a truce on the fart war as he was getting way too serious and thinking of ways to smoke me out. I waved the red flag sometime on Saturday night when he was kicking my ass by close to 10 farts, er points.
Besides it was costing me too much in candles and air freshner to keep the house smelling fresh with that much shit flying.

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I have been a really good girl the past couple of days. And Big T has been very cooperative! He's even trying to cut back and eat healthier with me as a show of support. Not sure how long he'll last before he caves and sneaks to Burger King for a grease bomb, but he's got my undying gratitude for not doing it in front of me.

I have sucked down ungodly amounts of water rather than Diet Dew and Diet Coke. I have kicked Taco Hell to the curb (last I heard, they're about to file bankruptcy). The fridge is filled with healthy crap like you'd find at a fat farm and we're actually eating it. My ass has even managed to hoof out 3+ miles a day on the treadmill at increasingly increasing speeds. Go me.

Swear to God, there is no way my ass is buying new fat clothes after I gave all the old ones away and done went out and bought all new smaller clothes last year. Not gonna do it.

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On the baby makin' front, we gots a big fat strike out. No bun in the oven over here yet. I reckon since the doctor said my fat ass needs to lose a few pounds before actively pursuing baby makin. I have to admit I was sort of bummed out when I had to make my way to Walgreens for Midol, tampons and bon-bons (actually I got Diet Dew, not bon bons...).

I can only assume that I knew I wasn't pregnant because I had a wicked mean bout with PMS this week and felt like I was going to strangle several people for relatively small and mostly harmless offenses.

I'm Cookin with Gas Now, Baby!

I'm officially cookin with gas now... No, I don't mean the fumes that burst periodically out of T's butt from the fart war. No, I'm actually steppin in high cotton now, kids. T acquired me a new, gas grill yesterday. Ain't it cool? I pity those ladies who get flowers and jewelery. Sheer chicken perfection came off that bad boy last night. Beautifully sliced for fajitas which I shall scarf down for lunch today.

In other flatulent news, Me and Big T have been in a fart war for a little over a week. Yah, I know, that's not lady like and totally sick. Just so you know, he started that shit...(hahaha). It has been scientically proven that, in fact, my shit does NOT stink and his could peel the paint off the walls. Please don't look down on me for being childish and obscene. Thanks!
Running score: Tony 5, Me 4

How do you keep a marriage fresh? Make time to go on a date together. Get rid of the kiddies and get 'r dun. After Big T and Me saw his mom Saturday night and dropped the boy off. We were feelin a little froggy. We went to Shoney's for their sinfully rich-half frozen tasty treat... Hot Fudge Cake. Actaully it wasn't a bona-fide date, but I told him I was goin for something sweet and yummy and that I wasn't driving not even 1/10 of a mile farther until I got loaded up with some coffee.
Still yet, we had some alone time to make fun of all the people making mountain sized salads.

The Holiday Spirit kicked me right square in the ass over the weekend. I got all holly and jolly and started up with the Christmas decorations. No, I'm not redneck enough that I'm going to light them up just yet. I'm just pre-decorating in an effort to be the tackiest, most well lit house in the neighborhood. Go me! I've got more than 3,500 little twinkle lights and I fully intend to utilize every single one of them. (Once I get in the running for Tackiest Decorations of 2007, I'll post some pix).

Paging Dr. Tony

I’m sure everybody knows that Tony’s mama got really, really, REALLY sick on the day we got married. It is amazing, incredible even to see Ms. Pat now and how incredibly far she’s come along since that day. Had I known the day we got married, before I walked down the aisle, that she wasn’t there I’d have postponed the whole damn thing again (yah, yah Spanky, you’d have won the bet again). But I didn’t know until I actually walked up to Tony and they played the first song in the ceremony that she was even sick.

By 4:30 that afternoon, Tony’s brother called and said that Tony needed to come to make Ms. Pat go to the hospital because she was “out of it” and really, really ill. We made it to Methodist Medical Center, where they quickly found out she had suffered a life threatening aneurysm and needed to be transferred to Univeristy of Tennessee hospital immediately. They did surgery and it honestly appeared that things weren’t going so well and the outlook was grim.

That was six weeks ago. Today she is in EXCELLENT shape! The first thing she got back was her since of humor. When asked “Mom, how do you feel?”

She’d shoot back, “With my fingers.”

She is breathing and eating without any assistance from machines, which 6 weeks ago she could not have lived without.. Her right side is getting stronger and stronger by the day. She has improved so much that she has been moved from UT to Patricia Neal Rehab Center where she’s walking with parallel bars and peddlin’ her ass off on the bikes. GO MS. PAT!

So, we were there to visit her last night. Tony keeps her laughin all the time, which is what she needs for sure. Nobody needs to be sad and worried anymore!! She’s made it through the bad stuff already.

We walked into her room and Leacha is sitting on the end of the bed with her. I took the real chair and Tony got to sit on the portable shitter.

“Damn, mom.” He says. “If you’re not careful on this thing, you’ll shit on your shoes.”

It’s always so good to see her smile and laugh.

As it turns out, Ms. Pat had found out what all had happened to her in the last six weeks yesterday. When we got there, Tony’s sis (Leacha) asked his mom to tell him what had happened.

She looked at Leacha really sad, then over to him still really sad, like she was afraid she’d scare him if she told him.

“He already knows what happened, Mom. He just wants to hear you tell him so he knows you know what happened.” Leacha told her.

Ms. Pat looks over at Tony, still worried, “Well, they told me I had a brain aneurysm and that I was real sick.”

“Yah. You were pretty serious, Mom.” Tony pets her arm. “You know how that happened don’t you?” He asked her all serious like.

“No.” She tells him as we all sit and wait for his professional diagnosis.

“Well, it happens when people hold in their farts.” He explains. “If ya don’t let it out, then it travels up and causes real problems.”

“That’s your son.” Leacha tells her.

Ms. Pat laughed to hard to say anything back.

Thank God for Dr. Tony and his warped since of reality.