Finally the mandatory OT has been stopped.  I don’t know anyone at work that liked it and then there were the people that despised it so much I finally had to tell them to shut up because we were all stuck doing it.  I said it way nicer than that though.  Because I’m a lover, not a fighter.  Meaning I’m a wimp.

This is my first four days off.  So what did I do?

Nothing.  Zip.  Zilch.

Well I cannot say totally nothing.  I ran everyday.  I’m sure you saw me whining about not seeing any results for that yet.  There might be another reason I haven’t seen any results.

This is Amanda and I.  What are we doing?  We are totally making s’mores.

A little redneck, but I am from Idaho.

They were so delish too.

This is Steve.  Enjoying his s’more.

He didn’t know he had marshmallow on his face.  I wasn’t going to put this pic online until Curtis told him the reason I was taking pics of him.  Then he gave me this.

Soooo going online.  Also, I take some amazing pictures.  I also heart me some Steve.

The rest of the week has been spent perfecting my drinking.  There was one melt down when I found out on of my favorite bloggers is talking about separating from her husband.  I seriously sat in the car and sobbed for almost a hour while Curtis held my hand and told me it was going to be alright.  In my defense I was more than a little drunk from happy hour, and I really like this blogger.  I know I don’t know this person at all, but I felt like my friends were going through it.  To make matters worse I left my phone number on her blog just in case she needed to talk to someone.

Then she called.

And I bawled.  Hysterically.

Embarrassment thy name be Lizzie.

When I woke up this morning, sober and hung over, I had to write her a email apologizing.

Write that down on the list of things I cannot be allowed to do drunk.  Leave comments on other peoples blogs.  So back to my weekend.  Right now I found out my favorite MUD is back online.  Yea.  Because that’s what I need to spend more time doing.  Screw the garage.  I’m going to go kill me some ewoks.

What do you expect?  I’m totally Imperial.

If you even know what a MUD is, you can find me at Kobramud.org.  I’m under Ciinravan.  Or if you want s’mores come on over.

Oh I was so out of shape.

But I managed to walk/hobble the mile and a half course before staggering home and going back to sleep.  Then against all odd the next morning I did it again.  This time I waited until 600.  Unfortunately this is when a dozen other people are out and about.  Every time I would spot someone I would stop running and walk.  I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression that I was having a heart attack and try to offer medical support.  Nope.  Just a fat girl jogging.

So why the hell was I doing this?  Part of it is that fact that I’m getting older and my whole taking care of myself regime has been to cut out fruity pebbles from my diet.  I needed to do something more.  Also, my metabolism is taking a nose dive and I need to start it up.  I am 33, and I feel my age.  I really don’t mind my badonka donk, but it couldn’t hurt to slim it down a little too.  As a side note, I totally had to look up how to spell badonka donk.  I’m that awesome.  Last but not least reason is when I was off of work for my surgery I didn’t do anything but lay on the couch.  I realized the things I could do before the surgery, like walk up a couple flights of stairs, suddenly started killing me.  So I decided to step up.

This is my third week.  After Curtis realized I was going to stick with this for a bit he decided to join in the fun, and together we started hitting the treadmill at the gym.  I know, what the hell was I doing running around my neighborhood when I was paying for a gym.  I really don’t know.  It was a spontaneous thing.  I also haven’t noticed a difference.  I feel the same, weight the same, my pants fit the same so I have to admit I was getting a little irritated.  When am I going to get some results?

Today the stupid gym was closed.  I haven’t ran the first route around my neighborhood since I started.  Alright you gentle slope.  I’m ready for you.  I cleared those two blocks and ran for five more before I had to walk for a couple.  I guess I am getting better.  Its just going slow.

This is Danica Rain, born August 26th, at 10:36 am.

Someone looks pppiiiiissssed!
Are you terrified that I now have another child in my clutches that I can corrupt?  Don’t worry, I wont teach her to drink like a man until she’s at least 12.

Congratulations Shalene and Michael, your new baby is just as perfect as her favorite auntie Lizzie is.

I’m so full of myself.

As a side note, doesn’t it look like Peyton is trying to nom on her new sister?  Hah!  Not yet Peyton, she looks a little underdone.

If you live under a rock and didn’t know, yesterday was my birthday.

My mother lives under a rock because I called her last night, and she didn’t remember.  The crummy thing is I decided to be a jerk and not remind her.  Seriously.  Like I have never forgotten her birthday.  She will call in a day or so, and I will have to apologize along with her for not saying anything.

Other than that I had a great day.  We started with breakfast and then Curtis took me shopping.  He had no idea what to get me this year, and I didn’t either so we just went to Freddies and I picked out a new exercise outfit.  You would think that buying me workout clothing would be on par with getting me a vacuum, but I really wanted it and I feel so cute in my new pink and black outfit that I want to go running every day.  I really do believe it makes me run faster too.  Because I’m five.

Later after we had lain around the house for the rest of the afternoon after post gym run, we finally drug our smelly selves to the shower to get ready for the concert.  Curtis has bought tickets for the Emilee, him and I to go see Bob Dylan.  I’m not a huge Dylan fan, but its just one of those people I feel that I need to see because he’s a legend.

A couple years ago we went to see Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young for the same reason.  It took me weeks to get the smell of hippies and patchouli out of my nose.

The lines to get in were so long, and I had decided to smuggle a flask of vanilla vodka in but they were checking bags.  So guess where I had to stash it?  That’s right.  In my pants.  Do you know how cold a pewter flask is on your bum?  After a while it warms up.

Whats in the glass Emi?  RC hu?

I was actually a little more excited to see the opening show.  It was John Mellencamp.  Curtis even tried to get close to take a couple pictures of him.

He only played for about a hour, but I knew all his songs.  Sadly I think I even made Emi dance with me a couple times.  Then it was Bob’s turn.

By the time Bob was on the stage, I was unfortunately fairly drunk and exhausted.   He played a really good set, but I spent half of it trying to snuggle on Curtis’s lap, and trying to not fall asleep.  As soon as he had tucked me into the car, and seat belted me in, I was out.  It was a rough, but fun night for the little 33 year old.

Of course I have already received one gift from Emilee. She knows how excited I get, and so she gave me my gift as soon as she purchased it. I also squealed like teen girl seeing twilight for the first time when she gave it to me.

Yes those are also freckles. It’s what happens when I go into the sun. I turn into a giant spot.

Sunday my friend Dylan did a show at his store.

Well technically it isn’t his store, but it was his show and we felt the need to show up and show our support. Also, Curtis loves any chance to throw his bra up on stage.

After wards we took Dylan, and our other friends Amanda and Steve out to the Delta. The Delta is a cajun restaurant in SE Portland. It was also Amanda and Steve’s fourth wedding anniversary. They watched the show but didn’t feel the need to throw anything at Dylan or flash their boobs.

We typically call the food at the Delta cajun redneck. Chicken fried steak, red beans and rice. Collard greens with bacon. I can feel my behind grow larger with every bite, but its so delicious.  Unfortunately I can never finish all my food and I spend 10 minutes trying to get anyone else to help.  Steve was the least polite with telling me to bugger off, he was full.  I thought english people were suppose to be nice.  Thankfully Dylan stepped in and stuffed himself so full he asked us to roll him out to the car.

Slight exaggeration.  Only slight.

This morning she comes stumbling down the stairs, once again calls my name.  I jumped up to find her hand cupping her mouth and blood dribbling down her chin.  She had caught her lip ring in her teeth while eating and pulled the stud back through the piercing.  

I will let you think about that for a second and cringe.

The stud was stuck inside her lip.  Any time she tried to pull it out or push it through, a burst of pain would hit her and she would have to stop.  Neither of us were dressed for public but we jumped into the car to head for the nearest urgent care.  Thankfully it was only five minutes away.  The bad part was that it was closed.  We pressed on to Beaverton.  They had a clinic 45 mins away.  Yes.  I live out in the sticks.  This is the price we pay.  

After a hour wait we got in to see someone.  The doc said he actually saw this happen about every couple months.  After a little numbing shot he pulled out the pliers and gave the stud a tug.

Thankfully it popped right out.

We celebrated with cinnamon and sugar bagels.

She has also decided not to get it redone or try to get the piercing put back in.  

I’m still cringing.

 I am a Internet stalker.  Seriously.  I totally know how to work the Internet.   It’s great fun to search around and see what I can find.  A couple of you probably just cringed wondering what I got on them now, but in reality it’s not like that, and don’t generally pick on my friends to find dirt on them.  I use these mad stalking skills sporadically to find family and see my husbands secret myspace profile.  I like to find missing bloggers and stalk old friends.  In fact I found a couple of them this morning, and you would not believe how smug I feel about locating one of my sisters best friends when we were kids.

It’s pretty crazy about how much info there is too.  If you are wondering try going to spokeo.com or pipl.com and type in your name and state.  Voilà.  

Emilee had been dating a guy for about a month when he started acting funny.  In a funk she decided to go to house to talk to him, wondered if they were going to break up.  So I told her to keep me informed on what was going on because I may not be her mother, but I helped raise her and I will be 90 billion years old before I stop worrying about her.

Unfortunately I heard nothing.  I started to get nervous and started texting her, and the guy.  Nothing.

I started getting worried AND angry.

So I did what any self respecting Internet stalker would do and looked up his name on the Internet.  That lead me to his parents name, and their phone number.

I sent one last text.  ”you have five minutes to respond, before I call your parents”.

Of course I heard nothing, so I placed a call.  A very confused father answered.  I told him who I was and asked if I could please talk to Emilee.  She said the father brought her the phone a moment later.  With a sigh and shake of her head, she told him “My aunt is a Internet stalker. This is what she has been training for”.

Damn right.

Everything was fine.  Well not the relationship.  That was over, but the fears floating through my head of her being stuffed into the trunk of a car were totally unfounded.  It just goes to show my mad skills come in handy.

Also, my iPad just tried changing ass to SSS.  My iPad doesn’t want me to swear.  Get over it iPad.

There is a reason i stayed soberish.  I cannot say sober because I did suck down two strawberry margaritas, but had to quit.  The ceremony went off without a hitch.  My sister Shalene, cousin Anna and I managed to plant ourselves in some nice shade for the outdoor wedding because Utah manages to be hotter than hell in august, and had front row seats to watch our respective husbands escort some women we didn’t know through the ceremony.  Good thing I’m not jealous.  I may be crazy, just not jealous.

Afterwards everyone wandered inside to start partaking of the liquor I so love when the reason I stopped drinking happened.  My sister who has less than four weeks left until her due date started having contractions.

I stopped drinking just incase I needed to go to the hospital.

The rest of the wedding went off like a normal wedding that I’m sober at.  We had a nice conga line,

The removal of the garter belt,

Traditional dances,

and Curtis gave the best mans speech,

By nine I was totally done.  I can only do the chicken dance, and the twist so many times sober.  I had forgotten to take my anxiety meds for a couple days because I’m crummy about remembering when I’m not in a routine.   I had to hide for a little bit upstairs when the DJ started playing Sir Mix-a-lot.  I found a nice quiet booth and tried to block ‘baby got back’ out of my head before I started having a anxiety attack.

Alas, my sobriety was in vain.  Shalene was sent home later once her contractions started to slow down.  Maybe the next wedding I will go out of control.  Anyone wanna get married?