Onto the Next One

July '10 was Eureka Springs, AR and Branson, MO with a little Choctaw(!) gambling to and fro. The subsequent trip, NYC late October '10, was scary at fist. Especially with the warning signing posted about the subway cars:

My brain was consumed with bed bug possibilities.

There were other "scary" events taking place within the subway

I offered zero dollars considering I had none to my name.

I'm always a little happy to see a bit of street performance...nonexistent in my neck of the woods unless you count the juggler hanging around Cowboys' Stadium.

And now for the thinly sliced meat of this post. While fretting over possible bed bugs at the sketch hostel we slept in, trying my damnedest to stay warm and musing over why there's a great love for Tyler Perry's movies, I made a little time to visit my uncle. I hadn't seen him in a few years and some of his work was on display in some hotel. And, duh, of course we stopped to check out what he's been up to. As any niece would do I got out my camera to aim and shoot a picture. HOLY MOLY!

I hear the words, "I KNEW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN", see a laptop slam shut, and then a flash of brown appear right in my sweet face. Apparent Lobby Looney Tune thought I was snapping his picture and proceeded to loudly school me on "this day in age with Facebook and all and taking pictures of people..." I thought this man was going to hit me. I assured him I had no interest in taking his picture and surely was not going to paste his mug on my Facebook. He insisted I hang over my camera.                   -Uh, no.

I didn't particularly like NYC. It was cold, fast, big and kind of lonely feeling. I did eat two damn fine bagel egg sandwiches which were consolation.

All I can say is thank god I lit that candle, even if I didn't donate, because I know my actions saved me from getting my lights knocked out by a man and that my friends would've topped the Arkansas bed bugs!

Haunting

An event from while I was away:

Latest Bed Bug Reports in Eureka Springs, AR  (Slightly Annotated)

---

2010-09-26 14:28:32
Basin Park Magnuson Grand
Eureka Springs, AR

Greeted by less than friendly staff, we were still excited to stay at the seemingly charm filled (supposedly haunted) Basin Park Hotel during our Fourth of July holiday. Yes, we had to park a great distance & the water was tricky (burn or freeze), but this was understandable considering the age of the building (1905). Nonetheless, our Fourth of July weekend was great... until we arrived home, itchy. Very itchy.  (imagine feverish and uncomfortable, hot, burning flesh)

We arrived home Monday night, itchy as I said. Tuesday morning, working at my desk, I had to stealthily lift my blouse to see what causing much discomfort. Apparently I must be a very tasty (yummy) lady! I received over 100 bites, easily! My lucky husband suffered about 12 bites. Our bites were about the chest, back and pelvic region. It truly is an ugly situation we're still scratching through exactly one week later.

Clearly, the bed bugs must be old news to the staff at the hotel considering the amount of bites- this is no recent infestation. Fortunately after (his mom claiming to be me had) many go round with management, we were credited the amount we paid for our 2 night stay. We won't be returning. On the upside of things, despite the bug experience, our bed was supremely comfortable...best rest we've had in awhile! (A genuine baby making town. Oh, and I saw a fox!)

Feelin' & lookin' like a real scuzz bucket

100% Out of The Loop

A certain somebody has mentioned I have "strolled in" during crisis :) Welp, let me set the record straight to half-assedly defend my whereabouts.

Am I still lugging that pretty diamond on my bony, brown finger? -No.
Does sleeping on The Moms' couch blow? -Yes.
Do I feel sad? -Yes.
Am I in crisis? -Hardly!

If I were truly blogging in crisis, I would've been typing up a storm last August when I did not get hired anywhere, when I had no idea how I'd ever pay anything, when people started taking things away, like my car, when I continually questioned when or if a date would be set. Oh my god, talk about the pits and I don't think I've ever been so sad in my life.

Gosh, things were shit.

But here's some news...hold onto your hat, okay?

I did NOT have internet when living with The Former (how I forgot my password). Swear it! I think I was the only 30 year old American with a permanent residence, without. Really. I had the lady at ATT in hysterics when I explained I had no internet or cable, not even a converter box to watch local channels.

Thank you for coming back!!! Catch me up.

Psst!

Yeah, I'm back or at least attempting back. Things have sort of come full circle since I stopped posting or at least I think that's the right term... I have officially returned home to The Moms'. So, did I use the term correctly?

Okay, I'm at The Moms', no longer set to marry, and in school. Holy shit! And, it's the same dang blasted time of year. Yeah, holy shit, how have I managed this? Yes, yes, this is full circle, save for a few minor details. And, the details go as follows:

• Love life is not flourishing or even remotely entertaining. Instead, try depressing/confusing/tiresome/on permanent hold (you pick)
• School is no longer college; it is a full time, contractual teaching job (WHOOP WHOOP!)
• The Moms' is still The Moms', less the younger brother that was living at home.
• I am sleeping on the couch.

The minor details have details of their own. Having gained an ample amount of alone time I share prosper again in this world wide web and fill your eyeballs with the details of the details.

I miss this. I miss you.

Jerk!

Awkwardly dancing to Calle Ocho or something of the like in my recently purchased UO dress, I felt a tug from the left. It was a man, a decent looking man pulling me across the dance floor.

Being so far from my friends, the awkwardness of my dance intensified. Yes, it intensified to the point of Watermelon Scene from Dirty Dancing, after Johnny teaches Frances AKA Baby to “dirty dance”, and then slips away leaving her looking quite asshole-ish.

Doing a campy dance, I yell over the music, trying to slip away, “Uh, don’t wanna dance anymore.”

“I’ll show you how to dance to this kinda music!” he says and the next thing I know, the man bends down, grabs me by the back of the knees and lifts me from the ground.

Airborne and holding on to this creature for dear life, he began to shake me up and down like ketchup in a bottle that won’t budge.

All the while, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, grappling to keep my short dress down to avoid exposure. The situation left me with my right arm desperately holding onto his neck while the other hand was twisted behind me shielding my va-jay.

Thank God I wore large, full coverage underpants!

Finally, he relented. I tried making a hurried escape while ensuring the bottom of my dress was lying flat and this is when I had to do a double take.

As if the situation hadn’t been ghastly enough, I looked down and saw nipples. Yes, my very own boobs on full display in da club.

*And, this is why I always say, "do not dance with strange men in clubs & especially don't do any grinding and booty shaking...unless you want to be fondled & feel an unknown boner poking you- and trust me, times are never that tough ladies and maybe gentlemen dancing with gentlemen"

Cross 'Em

I tried to withhold information for fear of jinxing myself. We all know I don’t have the Luck (of the Irish) when it comes to finding a suitable suitor to rope. I’m diffident about this revelation, guys, I really am.

Ok, I’ll shut up already and break the news; I went on a date. I know you’re thinking, “Big deal, what else is new?”, but let me say what’s new is I’ve run across another one I’d like to see again. That’s why there's such an immense amount of fear in sharing this. It’s very rare I admit interest, makes me feel entirely too vulnerable.

I’ve got heaps of questions buzzing through my head:
Will he call?
Does he want to see me again?
Was I enough of myself to charm the pants off of him?
What are this guy’s intentions?
Is he going to turn into a rude asshole like The Short Russian a.k.a Hot Lips?
Could I really date a guy with brown eyes?
When is he going to call me?
Is this going to be like the Crush Not Reciprocated?
Will he hang out with me another time, get wasted, try to mug down in public while talking in pout-y, baby voices, and then tell me about his prior experience with three-somes and ask me to put my hand on ‘it’?
Did he call me yet!? (yes, I realize it's mid-day Wednesday :P )

image

Conclusion of Date# .1

Date #2 spawned Date# .1 Too bad I didn’t know it was the freaking Devil’s spawn!

During the little brother’s birthday party, I was receiving texts from, uh, let’s call him Hot Lips :
“Hey there, just got off. At Target. Long day…What’s up?”

“Lemme know if u wanna drop by during the week”

Which all this later turned into, “Why don’t you come over today?”

I hesitated, thinking this wasn’t such a great idea, but boredom got the best of me after the party. I decided I’d go ahead go over and then we could go out.

We talked on the phone, he sent a text with his address and then I was on my way.

Now, mind you this address didn’t include an apartment name or number. This information is somewhat key. He also lives in a city I do not frequent, nor am I familiar with.

I get to his exit, head north on the toll road, make all the proper turns and see a complex I assume is his.

I ring him up:

“What’s the name of your apartments?”
“They’re called Blah, Blah, Blah.”
“Oh, okay, I’m here. Do you live in the 1st or 2nd building?”
“There’s only one building.” –there were totally TWO buildings!
“Are you near *some landmark*?”
“No, what’s a *some landmark*?”
“A hotel.”
“No, I only see a Hampton Inn.”
“Oh, wait, here is it is. Can you come down and meet me?”
“No, just park by the *some landmark*”

At this point I become annoyed because I think it’s only decent to walk down and meet a sista, right? I mean, really! ...Don’t live there, never been there, have no idea where I am, why the fuck not!?

I hang up, but only after first getting his apartment number and more directions which include me walking up stairs.

I sit in the car, take a deep breath, trying to chill out a little.

I walk into the apartment building and see door after door, no elevator, no stairs. What in the world…

I go into another entrance, seeing the exact same set up. At this point, I walk back to my car, ready to say the heck with it and head back home. Forty stinking minutes back home!

I call one last time to say I’ve gone inside and can’t find where I’m going, to which I get a totally condescending reply, and this is where I get hood. Remember, I told you I got hood?

Okay, so I really wasn’t really all that hood, but I frankly let him know what I thought of him, his lack of manners in the situation, and how him walking down a flight of stairs wouldn’t bring him to his death. Then, he tried to get kind, asking where exactly I was and I told the son of a bitch I was already on the highway, heading home.

No more Hot Lips.

I figure if he was talking to me in the manner he did, his funky little attitude would only get worse. I’m truly thankful I never made it into his front door.

Guess there was a reason I felt the hesitation.

image

The Dating Winds Down

This past week I averaged about 2.1 dates.

Date #1
He’s new to the area. We’ve been corresponding for a few weeks and finally met. Like usual, there were no special sparks working me into a tizzy. In fact, he was shorter than advertised with a round, bald spot smack in the middle of the back of his head. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have my pitfalls as well, especially since I quit taking my birth control and have little pimples sporadically sprouting. I’m merely emphasizing the lack of attraction I felt for this guy. And, Lord knows, I’m totally sick of guys misrepresenting their height, unless I’m like 5’9 and have no idea and I’m the one exaggerating my size.

Needless to say, another no go, but hey(!) there weren’t any weird revelations or unwanted advances, so I must say the meeting went well.

Date #2
Another Dallas newbie and shorty, but at least I wasn’t taller this time around. I was way more casually dressed than he, but oh well; I was suckered by his attractiveness. Initially the conversation was like pulling teeth. He wasn’t divulging much and for Pete’s sake a girl needs something to work with in order to make conversation. I took a little pity because he did seem incredibly nervous.

After awhile the mood lightened and all was okay. The date ended and I respectfully went home after a hot lip lock to get ready for another date which didn’t happen because I got a terrible sinus headache on my way home. Meh.

Oh, and this one also followed up with the message that goes a long way, like the prior week’s #4.

Date #.1
You’re wondering what’s up with the .1, right? I had to cut things short. I’ll tell you later. I’m sure you can imagine things were fairly fucked.

...Wow, Really? JML

Let's make a long story short...some of you may be pressed for time.



A very cute friend of mine has recently joined the Match.com world. We were comparing/suggesting prospects via Facebook chat. Some were serious, and others were more like, "Hey this guy awkwardly holding his cat would be great for you".



The thing with clicking profiles on Match.com is people know you've browsed them. One of my "ha, ha suggestions" struck last night with the following message:

Subject: Like a Snuggie, Except More Fleshy
Damn it, you look like a lot of fun. Why do you have to be all the way over there?

Why Me?

image

"How old is he? Does he have a cute butt?"

These words were spoken by my recently turned 14 year old cousin upon hearing I had a date last night. Odd.

He is 31 and I wasn’t even concerned with his butt. Okay, I did take a quick peek and welp…nada. Jeepers, cousin’s question provided a great pseudonym for this most recent internet dating victim; Saggy Britches!

Fuck. (Pardon the French)

I will start by describing this date by saying the fella is photogenic, in person, not so much; a little too red headed, pale, and fashion challenged. I can’t date another fashionably challenged man. God help me!? I have my hot mess moments, but nuh uh, not again.

For all intents and purposes, he’s a likeable guy, just not romantically/physically my type. I did get some awesome cheese fries out of the deal and decent conversation. The night wasn’t a total wash.

Here’s the doozy though, the good stuff. The-OMG-why’d-you-just-tell-me-that-but-thanks-for- telling-me-that moment.

Let me back up, paint you a picture.

While talking and what not, a woman approaches, introduces herself to me and proceeds to talk to Saggy Britches for awhile. No big deal. She leaves and he tells me they used to date, still no big deal. The big deal came a tad later.

During the course of conversation The Moms come up and naturally, he asked the typical male question to which I answered how interacting with The Vagina makes me queasy, etc. He told me how the woman I’d just met that he used to date likes the ladies. Still, no big deal.

The doozy came when he said something along the lines of, “Yeah, So & So likes to fuck chicks” and how they had three-somes throughout their relationship.

The End!

Smile

One Last One!

Ok, so I said I wasn’t going to do it, but I’m going to do it. I’ve got about 1 hour and 15 minutes to kill before Mommy feeds me dinner. I flat out don’t feel like doing shit. (Yes, I live with my dang mother(s). Yes, I have no paying job. And, yes, I have a lingering cold. Yes, I have heaps of work and planning to accomplish. Yes, I’m sick of the god damned winter. Lastly, YES, I’m extremely frustrated and near a state of depression. Whoa, did all that really come out just now? Totally irrelevant info, my apologies.)

*pulling myself back together*

My Facebook friends are already hip to some of this, but there are you that aren’t, so I’ll share since I miss y’all and heaven forbid you forget your Little Ol’ Stephie Poo.

I’ve recently developed horrendous eating habits, which cause me to drive myself to the same gas station every morning for a 20 ounce styrofoam cup of their delicious Coke-A-Cola. (Lately, I’ve upgraded to a 32oz, Ooops! Not so much irrelevant this time around, but embarrassing)

Not only does this particular station have the tastiest fountain Coke, there’s a particular gentleman (a fellow regular customer) I’ve made my “make-believe-boyfriend-that-I-make-love-to-every-morning-with-my-eyes-because-he’s-not-really-my-boyfriend-and-I-can’t-really-touch-him-without-breaking-the-law-and-I’m-not-really-crazy-but-he’s-super-hot-and-I-have-this-strange-feeling-he-is-also-eye-fucking-me-and-probably-one-day-will-want-to-marry-me”. HAA! That’s sick!

Beside soft drinks, I’ve also been known to go for a bit of candy in the morning. One cold as usual morning, I asked the clerk where the Nutty Bars are kept. After he pointed to the assumed location where I happened upon nothing of the sort, I said, “Oh crap. Y’all don’t have Nutty Bars. Man! I really wanted a Nutty Bar this morning”.

The clerk kept saying something and I kept on asking him what he was saying, and finally his voice rose loud enough for me to hear him say, “I said, I’m a little nutty and I get off of work in 37 minutes”.

Fuck.

Now, that’s been a few weeks ago and he’s been fairly normal since; normal until this morning.

I filled my 32 ounce cup full of that delicious Coke and set it on the counter, telling the “nutty” clerk I had to first grab one more item for my snack.

Again, he mumbled words I was unable to hear. Apparently, I “make him naughty and have funny thoughts”, which were brought about by his suggestion of me having a sausage biscuit for breakfast.

Creepy, I know, although hysterically funny when I enter my car and rewind the events. What a freak!

Honestly though, this is the type of guy I attract. His type is wholly why I resorted to online dating. By the way, I’ve given up on the WWW as of yesterday. I will be meeting no one else. At least, I'm not planning on doing so.

piss

Today is Monday and I don’t know what to do with myself. With so much to look forward to, I was feeling pretty good and antsy about this week:

Monday: Regular school day, mac n’ cheese in the cafeteria, and 1 month closer to finishing my residency.
Tuesday: Very busy carrying out plans in the classroom and staying for after school tutoring.
Wednesday: Dinner with weekend man number two.
Thursday: Sleeping in, enjoyable breakfast, and spending the day at the university. Night outing is a total possibility.
Friday: 1st grade field trip, Dallas Burlesque Festival with the birthday girl mentioned in this post and those A sisters.
Saturday: Baby shower and whatever the hell else I feel like doing!
Sunday: Continuation of whatever the hell else I feel like doing!

Yeah, sounds good, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought until I ventured to the other side of the school to discuss the upcoming field trip. See, this isn’t just any old field trip; it’s The Field Trip of field trips! It’s the flipping Ft. Worth Stock Show! And, this lady fucking forgot about me tagging along, but says I should still be able to go since I’m faculty. Man, I hope this pans out because I’ve had my little chocolate heart set on this trip. I mean it’s the stock show for Christ’s sake; do you know what that means to me? I’ve already told you folks I want a stinking brown cow. I looove livestock! I also love those little first graders. Boo Hoo!

On the upside, ‘cause there always is one…

You already know, or are in the process of figuring out I’m a bit spaztastic. You long timers know how I feel about the Baskin Robbins Ice Cream & Cake commercial and how I think it’s the greatest. Welp y’all, they’ve got a Valentine’s edition.

BEHOLD, loves!

Curly Toes

Alright, better get back to it.

Gosh, my head is empty.

I received a few more colorful messages during my holiday break. Let’s dissect these bad boys together, shall we? And then, surely my brain will be stimulated enough to think of what else to ramble about.

Dec. 23, 2009 – 7:51pm

hey girl!!!! i have a very cute friend that I am trying to find a cool girl for. he is very outgoing and very fun to be around. he is 34, 6'1" 210 short brown hair and blue eyes. if you might be interested feel free to ask anything that you would want to know and i will do my best to answer it for you!!! i will tell you that my friend is a great guy...probably the best guy i have ever met. he has no problem meeting girls he just keeps meeting girls that want to play games and lie. he isnt like that and wont put up with it. he is very honest and upfront with everyone and wants someone that is the same way. if you want to talk to a great guy that is very cute let me know...i can promise you now you wont be disappointed!!! Okay, I'm not going to even try to touch this one...Ill let y'all take care of it.

wow, you're on fire !
You're off the hook, hot ! Hi, my name is Momma's Boy....you sound like you're looking for the same things as me... Just what am I looking for? At 42, you’re too old anyway and this statement is a question?

…I'm 6'5'', 6'9'' with hair, blonde, blue eyed, muscular, affectionate, and curly toed...I grew up on the beach in Miami...went to college in NY...moved all over the place working my way up the markets...I'm a tv sportscaster...I can send photos...I just can't post them... A 6’5” dude is pretty fucking big, a 6’9” dude is freakishly tall, which is it man? And, just what do you mean by “curly toed”? At 6’9” with curly toes, baby, you’re painting a bad, bad picture.

I'm fun...like you, workout nut...when I'm not in the gym, ... I'm on the golf course...no baggage...never been married... will definately make you laugh...! How 'bout lunch ? golf ?? dinner ? starbucks ? Rangers Game...workout together ?? Bah, no.

you're incredibly beautiful, sexy, and intriquing...I would love to learn more about you...... WoW...great pics...are you sure you're not a model on the side... my Mom (works for Barbizon) could get you work ! Really, your mom?Oh Lord, give me a break.

Momma's Boy of Happy Valley Ranch !

Steph of Happy Hurst! (Really, what's happy about it?)

question.

are we total dorks/losers because we are on a dating website on christmas eve?

unfortunately, i think the answer is a big fat YES :-)

merry christmas stephanie.

this is depressing!!! Okie

Speak for yourself, Okie.

Forgive the lack of material, things have been slow around here. I've had to cut the meat and potatoes of any decent post because I managed to lose the battery charger for my digital cam. We've got a photo heavy post just 'round the corner...get your eyes rested and see you soon!

P.S.
Someone may have had a date... ;)

Lowered Expectations?

I had to find/add this vid after reading (funny)Arnetta's comment on the previous post, The Tale of Tea Bag:

Serious, guys, I'm beginning to think the 2nd site I signed up for is some sort of sex site. This evening, I got yet another request for some boo-tay from another picture -less, married, forty year old.

I don't have the patience to ride this one out. Between the outright weirdos and wife cheating sex fiends, I just don't have it in me. LOL Must be slim pickin's during the holiday season- that's what I'm going to tell myself- Remember, keeping the faith?

Okay, so instead of posting another married dude's pathetic quest for poon, you can read this little gem that came my way this afternoon:

In short, I was just strolling through BLAHBLAHBLAH basically minding my own business, when i slipped on those stairs - tumbled down, i grabbed a tablecloth for some reason pulling hummus and tortilla soup down upon me.. I looked up from my embarrassing position, wiping soup from my eyes - and there was this smiling profile picture looking back at me. Above the picture it said: ohmysteph. And I thought to myself - wow this is fortunate, this young lady seems awesome... But what should i write to her...My name is ********.How are you today?

After a smidge of self reflection, Mr. Rico Suave recanted his statement in another message sent roughly 3 hours later:

dangit that sounded kinda lame-o huh?I try and invent these literary non-sequitors when i really want to grab a gal's attention. A good strategy perhaps - but high probability to fall flat.. When I went back and reread this one in particular i'm not liking the way it sits on the ears... Anyhow..

I'm calling it quits for a while. I know I'm getting worn out....don't wanna bore y'all to death with my sad bunch of unsuitable suitors.

Stephanie

It's Official!

I claimed Sunday a holy day and therefore my sexual days of the week were to cease, however, my brother decided he would call this day, “Sexting Sunday”. In the spirit of this newly proclaimed day, sext away! I’m gonna sit this one out y’all.

I found some great sexting acronyms at esarcasm.com, to help such as:

MPICIMFP
my penis is caught in my flip phone
PIB-STV
phone in butt – set to vibrate
HWHGFSL
Hit wrong hole; girlfriend still limping
BJ2NITE
I find the study of early American history utterly fascinating, don’t you?

I unknowingly used a sexting acronym not so long ago- I thought asking, “do you fb?” was completely self explanatory. Thus, my one and only sexting experience was a wash. I was just trying to find out if someone had a Facebook.

Laugh, Cry, or Run?

After work, I slipped into Nordstrom to try on UGGs, or Yeti shoes. My knock offs are ugly, but such the bomb, it was a necessary.

I tried the classic tall and then the argyle to be on the safe side since I have sticks for legs and the argyle provides a bit of elastic at the top.

Now, before you stop reading…cool your jets- this isn’t a girly shopping story!

I had one style of shoe on the right and another style on the left, pants folded up for a full view. I was torn and told the sales associate so. Sales associate decides to ask another customer she’s helping for her opinion on my boot situation.

“I don’t like either one of ‘em…The don’t do nothing for you. You need some support. I can tell your feet are crooked. You’re flat footed, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You got flat feet, you walk on the insides of your feet, too, don’t you? You need to get in some corrective shoes like your momma used to put you in. Mine used to make me wear them, but I wanted to wear shoes like the other kids and quit wearing them. Ibet that’s what you did, too. Now, I can’t hardly get out of the house some days. You need to get your feet fixed while you’re young. I’m too old.”

I was so stunned at how this old lady called me out, I couldn’t even open my mouth to respond. Not only did I get called out by some random in Nordstrom, she insisted I should be wearing corrective shoes AND it’s a Friday evening, meaning the store was packed!

Total humiliation. I must’ve turned ten shades of red and put the mightiest of pit stains in my sweater.

just hurry it up already

Let me rest a foot on that old box for a minute while I ramble about birth control pills (and Wal-Mart). I don't mess around with that stuff or at least try not to. Hey, it's serious business. I can't birthin' no babies-period. So why does it take an act of congress to get birth control pills?

Dummy me lost them during the move this weekend and have been without for the past two days and heck if I didn't forget to pack them when I went to Ohio last month. Knowing I can't fool around by not taking my pills, I called my doctor's office today to get things straightened out. I was told to wait for his nurse to call me back. Taking matters into my own hands, I went to ...Wal-Mart to let the pharmacy know about the little mishap and urgency in which I needed a new set of pills. I was directed to another window blocked by a line of five restless folks, all waiting their turn. fudge. Finally, when I get my chance to talk to the "counselor", I'm given the green light, but must wait "about forty minutes or so" to get a prepackaged supply of birth control. This is where I really started to hate Wal-Mart more than I already do. Jerks! (ok, this next part is partially my fault)

I thought how to spend my "about forty minutes or so", I knew it wasn't going to be done wandering around in cold, sopping wet shoes because it was raining and the lot was full of puddles. McDonalds and Wal-Mart teaming up is a shit idea in my opinion, but I opted to have a value meal to waste time and take off my shoes to dry a bit. I've seen that website peopleofwalmart.com, so I knew taking off my shoes was the least of my worries and then decided to watch for these people of walmart - minimal luck. Furthermore, there was nothing valuable about my value meal; it was almost $7.00, tasted like crap & ended up in the trash.

Back to the birth control pills.

Not only are they a pain in the ass to get but can get pretty expensive, too. Like one time I tried to explain to the doctor's nurse how $40 a month for pills was completely ridic and just not feasible. She acted as if this $40 pill was my only option causing me to have to tell her she needs to find something because if I can't afford $40 a month for bc pills how in the world was I supposed to afford a baby. After this conversation my pills were changed.

I don't know, maybe it's just me, but it seems as if I always have such a difficult time with these pills and it annoys the crap outta me! I mean, for real, methods of birth control should be passed out like Halloween candy. Aren't there enough irresponsible degenerates having and making babies?

There! really no need for this post other than being somewhat annoyed.

i owe who?

“Are you fucking serious? You’ve got to be kidding, right?” These are the words that repeatedly went through my head when the toll lady wouldn’t let me pass.

Let me give a little back story first. There have been multiple times I’ve run the toll, not on purpose mind you. It’s mainly because rarely, if ever, do I carry cash and therefore haven’t one red cent on my person! This particular night, I made sure I had 4 shiny quarters in my car; 2 to get there and 2 to get home.

Okay, here’s the story.

Late one night, not so long ago, (like this weekend) I was heading north on the toll way and missed my exit. As I approached the next exit's booth, coins in hand, I noticed this exit was significantly more than my usual exit, in fact 85 cents more. I’m thinking, “Shit, I’m short some coins…Guess, I’m gonna have to run it once again…Wonder how much I’m going to owe the North Texas Tollway Authority…What, is there a human in that toll booth? FRICK!”

So, I stopped. Upon sight of the woman in the booth, I imagined how this couldn’t be a safe job for an older lady, especially at the hour I was passing through. I figured between her unfortunate job and my unfortunate situation, we could see eye to eye on things. You know, have each other’s back. Help a sister out.

“Ma’am, I’m SO sorry. I missed my exit, I meant to take the one before this and don’t have the 35 cents you need here. I only have a dollar. Will you take the dollar?”

“Yeah, but you’re still going to owe $1.35”

“Oh…”

“Here, I’ll write you an IOU. Hold on there”

Sometime later, after reviewing my driver’s license, inputting data into her register and then writing down my license plate number, she presented me with an envelope and a receipt to sign off on.

“Put your signature here, here, here and here and drop this in the mail with your $1.35. You have 15 days to get this taken care of.”

Okay, so I get to pass without major implications such as that stupid flashing red light and loud sirens, but really, she couldn’t just let me slide? Granted, you can’t do favors for everyone, but gimme a break toll lady. I made an honest mistake.

After all was said and done and I had signed “here, here, here and here”, she then looked at my signatures and then had the nerve to tell me, “These signatures you put on here don’t look like the signature on your driver’s license”.

Look-y here toll lady, I signed my driver’s license in April 2006 upon it’s expiration date. That has been over 3 years ago, not only have I changed, but it was under completely different circumstances.

At this point I could only smile and kindly say, “Would you like for me to sign again?”