Trying to stay calm.

Sgt. (sgtredline.blogspot.com) I may need your expertise.

Ok so here's the thing. Yet again confession time. For the past year and a half I've been working my ass of to loose weight. I lost 70 lbs as of last November and I was lookin halfway decent for a change and fully on track to loose say another 20 lbs.

But then the C. THING happening and my little world going BBBLLLUHHH AHHHHH for a bit I sort of came to a screeching halt on the whole exercise/calorie counting. oops.

I gained back 15 lbs. SHITSHITSHITSHIT I worked hard getting those freaken bitches off and now I've got to do it again.

ANYWAYS, I've got myself back together again and two weeks ago got back on track. I've cut down on calories (but not too much to piss off my body and make it go in starvation mode) and started exercising again.

-side note of horror, last fall I was up to running 2 1/2 miles a day in 30 min. Not stellar but I was damn happy. 2 weeks ago when I got my ass out there to start up again - 1/3 of a mile - DYING F@#* !!

Anyways I'm up to 2 miles again plus lifting weights on the days when my legs are too sore to run.

And for the last two weeks I have consistently stayed the same or GAINED every day (more often gaining) (and don't anybody tell me not to weigh myself everyday cuz that's how I roll and I'm not changing for anything)

I haven't changed jobs.
I haven't started eating salt blocks
I haven't started drinking cola or any other hidden calories
I keep a food journal to keep track.
I'm exercising

I even stopped for 2 days this weekend thinking maybe my body was pissed and just needed a break

And I'm pretty sure it's not just muscle gain because I'm feeling fat in my clothes, like real fat.

I've been through fluctuations and plateaus before, I understand them. I've lost weight (this same weight before) and damn it I KNOW how to do it.

BUT WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS SHIT !!!!

I'm not giving up by any means but I'm a little baffled here.

It was that bad.

Ok, back to me being lame in High School.

I went through a bit of a phase, 10th? 11th grade? I don't remember the time but I remember the phase. I had a crush on no less than 3 skater bois, and all up and decided one day that I would become a skater girl.

Right. Whitebread hillbilly, Right.

I have all the grace and balance of a hippo on stilts so the actual skating thing was sort of out. AND I didn't yet know the phrase "poser" yet so, well, there ya go. Maybe I thought I was being "goth" and it would just meld with the skate look, I don't know, but it didn't turn out all that well.

All the rage at that time was to wear "skater chains" You know those little metal ball "chains" that businesses use to keep people from stealing their ink pens? Yeah those and in every size from original to jumbo marble size. I had quite a limited budget working at Dairy Queen, and if I recall correctly I tried to steal the little chain that held the sink stopper from my parents bathroom sink at one point. Oh yeah, that's cool.

SO of course out came the HORRID nail polish colors, green, black ect, and wretched baggy pants. (Jay-bird you know you had those pants too) we thought we were so cool in those high-waisted baggy monstrosities.

I REALLY thought I was cutting edge when I came up with the "idea" of putting safety pins in my ears as earrings. Right, until my mom smiled at me and told me about how she used to do that when she was a kid. I pretended that I didn't hear that and went smugly on my way.

At one point, oh I can't believe I'm going to type this, but yes at one point I got the bright idea of tying a small chain (like a real chain not a "skater" chain) around my FOOT and let it drag behind me about 6 inches as I walked.

Walked down the halls of my high school. Yes. Really. I think I had some psycho bullshit symbolism worked out in my teenage head that made it cool to me but well come on REALLY !!! OOOOOHHHHH I still to this day don't know what honestly possessed me to do that one. It has to be that teenagers for real are insane for a couple of years. Oh man.

I never stopped for even a moment to think about how I would across to the skater bois I so wanted to impress. A baggy, safety pined, ugly nailed, chain draggin weirdo. That's kind of what I figure. I was so wrapped up in trying to be like them so they would LIKE me that I never looked in the mirror or considered what I was really doing.

The skater bois always dated the girls that were cute and just wore the tight little skater music t-shirts. I didn't really get that, I guess I was impersonating the wrong gender. Ooops.

Ok so yes thankfully now that I'm older I've fully grasped the whole "have to be yourself" thing, so no worries there.

There, so now you have a teeny bit of idea of how I nurtured my reputation in high school. Don't worry, there's more to come. God save the Queen there's more.

Apparently I can't turn down a weirdo

My friend Jaybird made a comment on my blog yesterday about me and dating strange boys.
She mentioned that I'm too nice to "tell strange boys no."

It freaked me out because I've never even thought about it but she's crazy right, and it made me go back and think about the people I've dated over the years.

And it blew my mind.

* Paul - (he really was a bit weird not just an outcast) (1/2 a day)

* Danny- sorry but. . . (btw also dumped him cuz he wanted to kiss me) (1 week)

* Skater boi- he was nice but. . . yeah (btw dumped for weirdness and bad kissing) (2weeks)

* Pretend military/karate guy (1 year)

* Crazy old guy that thought we were on a date even though I had no idea, just thought he was being friendly and wanted get some food together. (30 minutes, tried to kiss me, you know the rest)

* Guy that I knew was an idiot on first date, and weird, and later turned out to think that he was better than Jesus Christ (6 yrs)

* Old guy that his mom made me go out with -screw w/ your head weird- (3 months)

* Weird older guy that tried to move crazy fast (1 week)

* Guy from work that seemed nice - brought me a plastic bag of corn he got for free from a farmer, kind of kicked ass but. . . uh (1 date)

* Guy that worked at Meijer that asked me out while I was looking for ammunition for my pellet gun - (1 date)

* My first for real stalker- he started out SO NICE and seemingly normal. But WOW that changed real quick- it still freaks me out to think about it (dated 2 weeks, stalked for 2 months)

* AAAAAAND last but not least sometimes it's your friends that will let you down. Some of my church friends tried to hook me up with a "really nice guy"
He gave me a unicycle lesson, played his digeridoo, showed me some body bending cuircus tricks and recited Poes "The Raven" all within the first hour of meeting him.
He WAS really nice. But. Well just but.

Sprinkled in here and there there were some nice ones and some regular plain ole assholes that I won't mention because they just don't make the "weird" list.

Anybody want to guess what group C. started out in? First it was "Oh my he's SO NICE!! But then he fell into the weird group for a bit when I thought he told me he loved me after our first kiss. WHOA!! Almost lost him there until we figured out the translation error.

He still has some weird shit about him but it's all cultural difference stuff. And yeah I don't care if it's his culture it's weird.

1st boyfriend. Sort of.

In 9th grade I was already setup pretty well in the inbetween crowd. So the day when sort of cute Paul from the out-crowd started to pay attention to me I didn't know what to do.

Not used to having people (BOYS omg BOYS i was like 14) pay attention to me, it was new and wonderful and exotic. And I liked it. But he wasn't cool, and I wasn't cool either, but he REALLY wasn't cool. And shamefully in my little teenage reptillian brain I didn't want to be made even MORE uncool by being associated with poor Paul.

After a couple of weeks of wooing his damndest my pride be damned and I let the teenage horomones take over. I let Paul call me his girlfriend. I thought maybe it would be ok, we'd keep it on the DL. For heavens sake we only had ONE class together, it was going to be ok. But no. Paul decided to announce to the class person by person his triumph. (thanx paul now they were all making fun of me in our class together)

AND THEN !! OH Lord he was apparently mr. chivalry and wanted to escort me to each of my classes. And hold my hand. Paul was my first hand hold. And I hated it because it was like a giant neon sign announcing our togetherness. Not to worry though, by the third class he escorted me to (day 1 of relationship BTW) he decided that he wanted to kiss me. In the halway. Outside my class.

I went into horrified statue mode and let him kiss my cheek. That would be my first kiss and I didn't want it and I didn't like it. I was an outcast but I was a bastard wannabee cool person outcast and I was ashamed of Paul.

So I hid from him the rest of the day and dumped him the next day. One shred of defense was that I was 14 and a little late on the wanting to make out with boys scene and the idea of kissing freaked me out and I didn't want to have to deal with it.

I'm sorry I was such a shit head Paul. If I had more hormones than selfish pride we could have lasted longer.

I still felt guilty for hurting his feelings untill I think right now. It was a long time ago, he's proboly got 3 kids by now and he's too busy messing with baby shit than to think of a weird girl that dumped him for kissing her in 9th grade.

She's not crazy

I want to start a mini series about some of the time I spent in high school. It sucked big balls for me and even though I can honestly say that I'm truly OVER it now, I'd kind of like to write about it just to clean it out of my system.

So that's what I'm gonna do.

I'm pretty sure I was doomed before high school, ever since I can remember I've had terrible social anxiety. I remember it as far back as kindergarten. Back then in the 80's it was just that I was "really shy." Grown-ups thought it was sweet. Nobody had any idea that it would snowball over the years and help me on my way to a shit-hell existence in school. DISCLAIMER here, I'm not one of the stereotypes that saw a few symptoms on a commercial for zoloft, and ran to the Doctor screaming for unnecessary pills. In fact I was ashamed for YEARS about my behavior and thought if I went to to a doctor they just plain wouldn't believe me, and brush it off as a crazy teenager, or a druggie just wanting pills.

I remember going to the doctor in like 10th grade for a check up and him noticing my wretchedness. He started asking me all sorts of questions and I had all sorts of lies. "Do you ever feel like people are watching you?" -course not (all the time) "Do you think that people are always judging you?" -no (come on we know they are) "Trouble breathing, or sweating a lot when center of attention?" -gee doc, no more than anyone else (GOD YES) And a slew of other nut-so questions that freaked me out. I swear he was leaning more toward schizophrenia than anxiety. So after all the questions I lied about (and I'm pretty sure he knew) he told me that if that stuff was happening to me that they would have to put me on medication. At which point I mentally BOLTED cuz it was a time BEFORE all of the "it's ok to be chemically imbalanced and take zoloft" ads on t.v. I thought that taking pills would qualify me as a crazy person, and damn it I didn't need any more stigma.

It wasn't till years later at the ripe age of 22 that I had an experience that pushed my ass out of denial and sent me hellbent on convincing my Doc that I really was loopy. I went into that appointment shaking, sweaty and scared to death that she would she wouldn't believe me and send me away. God bless her heart all she had to do was LOOK at me,and listen to me for a couple of minutes. Then, calm and reassuring as hell she told me what the hell had been wrong with me for so long, no biggie, I lack the correct amount of some concoction in my brain, not my fault, and why yes there is a cure. It took a year to find the right stuff for me without side effects, but since then I've slowly started to change. Even though I don't feel like I'm having a heart attack anymore, or running a marathon when I talk to my boss (or a guy, or stranger, or biological father), there's still some residual thought patterns that slowly need to be scrubbed away with good ole time.

Oh shit, well this went too long to start talking about high school today. Another DISCLAIMER for anybody that made it this far, I won't be offended if yall stop reading my shit. The above paragraphs just aren't funny, and I started off here trying to BE funny so it's a little bit of false advertisement. I didn't know what this blog would be when I started and still don't, but for now it's going to be about the crazy shit I did in high school, and why I did it. And then I think I want to write about how I started truck driving and what a hell mess that was. OOOOH but I do have some funny as hell mailboxes to post up cuz they are just so silly. So at least there's that.

Thanx

OH lord he REALLY must love me.

Ok confession time. My car is and always has been and shameful mess. It's either the house or the car and the house always wins. It's weird cuz I like a tidy organized clean home, but my car is an abomination to all that is holy. It's a collection of crap that I took someplace or brought home from another and just never bothered to bring inside. And there might be some water bottles, McD bags and all sorts of change and assorted makeup products. Sorry folks just keepin' it real here.

If I stopped to pick up a hitchhiker and it was Jesus on one of those "will you pick up the homeless stranger guy" tests, he'd take one look, decide that he doesn't have enough holy water on hand and wave me on to take the ride from the serial killer with the clean car.

Anyways I left my car home yesterday and carpooled with a friend.
-sidenote- you ever see like 6 Mexicans going somewhere in one little car together? They are carpooling. Mexicans have this crazy love for carpooling and since I've infiltrated their community I've come privy to this phenomenon. They all have cars but will jam in with each other everyday to go to work. I think it's a mixture of the saved gas money and the fact that they love to socialize and can have a little fiesta together, tubas and accordions bumping all the way to work.

Ok so yesterday when I got dropped off home I noticed something odd about my car. It had a funny look about it.
It was clean. I thought maybe I had been robbed.
But then I opened it up and noticed vacuumed carpets, dust free surfaces and a giant lack of shit.

I didn't even want to touch that mess, I was saving it for my twice annual guilt clean. But he totally went for it and that ladies and gentlemen has to be some love or some crazy. I figured if he wasn't crazy before he surely would be now. But nope, he seemed unfazed and even came up with a new lovey dovey thing for me, he called me "La Luz de mis ojos" which is "The light of my eyes"

So ok maybe he is crazy, but at least it's crazy for me.

What to do?

What do you do when your boss thinks you're more intelligent than you actually are?

Yesterday my boss wanted me to somehow get some paper documents in his email with no scanner. Cool chick that I am I just happened to have my digi. camera on hand so I took pictures of them, hooked it up to my computer and somehow managed to get them in an email for him to send. I didn't really know HOW to do this crap but it's not too hard to figure out so it's all good. But THEN he came to me with some harder shit and I had NO IDEA what to do.

So of course I pretended like I did and spent the next hour and a half figuring the shit out. I got it eventually and just acted like it was no biggie and blamed the fact that it took so long on the slowness of the computer.

But what would have been the RIGHT thing to do? Should I have told him flat out that I'm stoopid and he shouldn't have hired a former truck driver to be an admin. assist? Or did I do the "smart" thing by just figuring it out and letting him think I'm cool? Or is there an in between?

I just don't know.

Mi Amor - My Love
Mi Vida - My Life
Mi Cielo - My Sky
Mi Amante - My Lover
Te Adoro - You I Adore
Mi Preciosa - My Precious girl

Those are my favorites of the things C. calls me every day.
All of them. Everyday. And he for real means every bit of it.

He tells me that I am a treasure.
He tells me that I am his Queen. (ok so I giggle at that one but still)
He tells me that I am so so beautiful, and EVERYDAY when I get up and get dressed and come out of the bathroom he whistles the "you are so hot" whistle. Most of the time he stands up, and will come to meet me in the kitchen and want me to spin around so he can see me from all sides and once again tell me how wonderful I look. 90% of the time I'm just in jeans and a t-shirt.

Honest to God he's so appreciative that I actually TRY to look nice sometimes, for Gods sake I've even started curling my hair!

The other day I busted out my old decrepit and I do mean decrepit froggie pajama pants that I've had for YEARS and will only wear in front of my best friend. You know the kind. Anyways, it was late and I wanted to be comfortable and we've been together for long enough for it to be pretty bad if he would have run screaming and dumped me. So I came into the living room and he did his thing where he whistles and says that I'm oh so sexy. I figured he was going a little way too far this time cuz damn these pants are wretched, and tried to call him out on it. I told him that I know that they are the most hideous clothing I own and I look retarded and frumpy in them and that he can calm down on the you so hot just this once, or get some glasses.
Of course, he proceeded sit me down, look into my eyes and get all serious and tell me that I am ALWAYS beautiful to him no matter what I wear, and that he wasn't just being nice. I'm not good at accepting all of this romantic serious wonderfulness, and got a little fidgety but I made it through.

Oh and he calls me a princess, which is a bit of a change from my last BF who called me a "plus size princess." That guy also called me "piggy" and his "leetle eliphant" as his terms of endearments. Yeah so that guy was a real winner, and it's honestly taken me a little time to adjust to someone being so insanely nice to me. Sometimes when I get all fidgety and weirded out by all of Chinos sweetness he notices and tells me to calm down because I DESERVE all the love and adoration that he can give me. He tells me that I earn it. I think the word "earn" might be a little lost in translation cuz I don't DO anything, but whatever, I'll take it.

Ok so that'a a little sliver of what I wish I could share with my family and friends, I'll try not to surogate on you guys to much. Thanx.

NICE.

I'm think I feel insulted.

Yuck, where do I start? The other day I was having a conversation with my boss (of whom I'm also kind of friends with.) We were talking about one of her friends and his dating life. Everything was going fine until she decided to describe to me the "kind of girl" that he always dates. She went on to describe "nice enough girls" but then described them as the type that buy their clothes at walmart, never have much money and probably never will, and always wear their "Oh so carefully applied .99 cent nail polish."
So yeah my boss grew up with decent money and went to a BIG college and will never be poor. Good for her.

Did she realize that I was sitting there listening to her in my shirt and socks and shoes that were bought at Walmart? Or that I grew up poor, and am working my way through community college and therefore am cash-less? And actually GLANCED at my nails so carefully painted with my on-sale nail polish that I'm sure cost less than $2 ?

What the FUCK ??? Am I supposed to just pour my nail polish over my hands or maybe throw it on with a roller because if it's not stupid expensive it's not worth trying to look nice?

I don't think she had a clue, and I don't think she meant anything toward me at all, but it still kind of sucked.

Astounding suckiness

This is the face of a frightened piece of SHIT cat.
(The pictures are a little large, my bad I'm just learning, I'll get better)

Last night we had yet another appearance of a Ghetto mouse in our house. Damn it that's #2!! The mouse was on top of our stove (omg eww, eww, eww) so I decided to take refuge on our couch and send out my two cats to finally do their job.


The picture below is of Big Kitty on top of the refrigerator. She jumped up there when she noticed the intruder and stared down at him for a bit. Then as you can see in the pic. she decided to HIDE IN THE CUPBOARD. She figured out how to get it open, and get inside. The picture is actually later, long after G. Mouse was gone, when she decided to come out.





Here is my other cat who decided to take her own stance across the room on top of the kitchen table. To her credit she watched the mouse the whole time (from the safety of her table perch.) Maybe she thought her mere presence 10 feet away, and her oh-so-scary stare would teach that mouse a lesson.




I've never seen such a worthless show in my entire life. Maybe they've watched to many after school specials with me about how "violence isn't the way." But don't tell that to them when we are playing with their "mouse on a string toy." They go after that thing with claws and teeth and all sorts of I'm-so-brave-kitty-growling. Yes they growl and HISS at their favorite toy. If I talk Mr. G. Mouse into adding on a 3 foot long tail extension maybe the bastards will think he's toy and do their job. This is the Ghetto we've got lots of places to add hair extensions, he really shouldn't run into any trouble as long as he dosn't get the wrong color. I don't need a mouse gang war in my kitchen for gods sake.

Thank heavens my Mexican knows what to do with his tortillas and traps or we might be overrun.