Anti Love Letters

I know, I know, it’s Valentines day, the day of love and hearts and chocolate, but I thought I’d take a different approach, let my bitterness out and write some letters to those I don’t love…

Dear Fellow Drivers,

F you all. Use your blinkers, for God’s sake! Go the speed limit and pick one lane, you can’t just drive down the middle. I’m glad you seem to be out for a leisurely road trip, but some of us have places to be and you’re making us late. Go to H3LL (Except little old men. They are exempt)

Lots of love,

Lady Fromage

Dear People of Walmart,

True, Walmart is not the classiest place eva, but put on some real clothes and get off your phone. I don’t need to see your crack and hear all about your hookup while I’m buying eggs, kay? Also, this is not a playground, keep your freakin’ spawn under control.

Thanks.

Lady Fromage

To The Popular Kids in High School,

Ha! Maybe you were a big fish in a little pond then, but now you’re married to a guy named after an ice cream, had your wedding in horse SH!T and got fat. Me? I’m doing great and happy in my 4 bedroom house with my successful husband. Who’s the cool kid now, bee-aches?

Lots of love!

Lady Fromage

A List Making Mood

In no particular order, I give you “Things That Scare the Crap Out of Me”

Most are strange. Many are funny. All are true.

Blisters
Spilled drinks
Gun shots
Public speaking
Goats
Earthworms
Being lifted up
Water deeper than my height of 5’6”
Fish
Being heard vomiting
Being overheard trimming my nails
School Busses
Airports
Exorcism movies
Loud noises
Driving in traffic
Using the last of the water in the cooler and having to change the bottle
Being locked in a closets
Spiders
Needing to make a turn while a pedestrian is present at the intersection
Lying awake
Crowds
Getting lost
Unfamiliar environments
Answering the door
Answering the phone
Opening unknown mail
Small Talk
Sneezing
Yawning
Being overheard using the bathroom
Waking up on the sofa

The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round

I don’t like public transportation. I grew up in a town of 112, so, as you can imagine, there wasn’t much need for taxis and such. Even after growing up and moving away, I never did hop on a bus, hail a cab or set foot on a subway. The longer I went without trying it, the more frightening the idea became. Then, when I was 23, newly engaged to LT Fromage and spending New Year’s Eve with my friend, Pat, I did it. I rode the light rail. Not because I wanted to, but because Pat lived near the station and we opted to avoid traffic and possible DUIs. When it came down to actually using public transportation, I decided I would have preferred risking the DUI.

I hate crowds. I hate not being in control. Droves of people crammed into a fast-moving bus-train thing that stops, well, who knows where it stops! certainly not when I want it to stop, and heaven forbid I have to actually change busses…. What the eff was I thinking? Of course, the boys thought it was a wonderfully funny game to “forget” what stop we needed to get off, or what route we would take to get home. Thanks, fellas.

After the night out, there were tens of thousands of people waiting to get back on the light rail. Why? I sure didn’t want back on! But we waited. A little drunk and among more people than I’d ever seen in my life, a fight broke out right beside us. The boys thought it was exciting. I found myself sitting on the wet, dirty curb, rocking and covering my ears until it was over.

Yes. Totally sitting on the curb, covered with vomit, gum, dirt. Eyes squeezed shut, plugging my ears and rocking back and forth.

I don’t do well in crowds. I don’t do well when I’m not in control. I don't do well on busses.

Eff public transportation.

Was That So Hard?

I had to go to the ER last weekend and when they sent me home, they instructed me to make a follow up appointment with my primary care provider.

I’m not sure which is suckier, the emergency room or my primary care provider. Probably the latter.

First no one would pick up the phone, then when I tried the other, “secret number “, I was put on hold for 15 minutes before I hung up. On my third try, my call was picked up but the gal was too busy talking to the employee next to her to actually answer my call (but now I know all about how her date went…).

When I finally got through, this is how the conversation went:

“How can I help you?”

(Wanted to say “duh….This is the “Make An Appointment” line, right?” but what I actually said was…)
“I need to make an appointment with Dr. So-and-So for tomorrow please.”

“Okay… we can get you in on Thursday at 10.”

(Ooook. Tomorrow isn’t Thursday. Let’s try again…)
“Ok, well, can I see someone else then? I need to get in tomorrow.”

“We aren’t making appointments for tomorrow. If you want to come in tomorrow, you’ll need to call tomorrow.”

WTF?

(Someone needs to explain the purpose of making an appointment)
“Ok. I don’t understand. Do you have any appointments with anyone tomorrow? Anyone?”

“We aren’t making appointments today for tomorrow. We’re only scheduling acute appointments* for tomorrow today.”

*(“Acute appointment” – code word. Even if they’re booked solid for weeks, just say this phrase and you’ll get in faster than you can drive there!)

“Ok. Can I have an acute appointment please? For tomorrow? I don’t even care who with.”
(I almost offered my first born child, but stopped myself because I may need that bargaining tool later)

“Ok, let’s see… I can get you in with Dr. So-and-So at 1, will that work?”

“YES! YES!”

My original choice of doctor? On the day I wanted? Even the time I preferred? Can it be true? What’s the catch…

“Ok, well we have you down for 1pm with Dr. So-and-So, we’ll see you then. Just be sure to watch your phone in case we have to cancel or reschedule you since it might snow tomorrow and we may delay everything, or he may not even come in… Thanks have a great day. Click.”

FML. Everyone still want government run healthcare?

Keep the Change

I hate change. Not the coin kind so much, but life change. I’m a big proponent of structure, you see, I take after my MeMe, who once said “I don’t get it. Those planes won us WWII, they should work just fine now.” My PaPaw doesn’t understand why they even bother to make any pizza besides peperoni, one kind is enough for him and it should be for everyone else, too.

The change I’m upset about right now? Windows 7. I just got a new computer and, while I’m excited, I have to ask: Why must I keep relearning operating systems? What was so wrong with Vista? Why are all my buttons different? My task bar has changed! Why? Vista worked just fine, and more importantly, I KNEW HOW TO FREAKIN’ USE IT.

LT Fromage says change is good. It means improvement he tells me. Easy for him to say, he’s still running Vista (however, when we get him a new computer, I’m sure he’ll catch right on to whatever the new OS is it will come with at that time).

I haven’t even broken 30 yet and I’m already “that lady”, the one who doesn’t “get” the iphone (I can send texts and make calls with my handy slider phone, and even snap pictures. What more do you need?) and refused to buy a bluray player because her whole collection of movies was on DVD (My brother in law finally convinced me that a bluray player will in fact play my DVDs just fine, so I finally broke down and bought one for LT Fromage’s birthday… though it took me 3 hours on the phone with said brother in law to set it up). I drive an ’04 Ford without one of those fancy clickers that unlocks the doors (who needs it? I can unlock it with my key!) or XM radio (I’m still clinging to AM/FM and the occasional CD).

Just wait ‘til I’m 80. I don’t even want to think about the crazy evolutions in technology I’ll have seen by then. Rest assured I’ll take after my grandparents and have lots of opinions about the “advancements” and “improvements”. Why wait ‘til 80? I’ll start now. Stupid Windows 7… Vista worked just fine, and it still does. Who the H3LL thought we needed to upgrade…?

Smarty Pants

The duct tape jeans have gone into retirement. (Notice I didn’t say “the trash”…. I might have kept them, just in case… in case of what, I don’t know, but just in case.)

I finally, after months and months of searching, found new jeans. And the best part? Marked $36 (which is, sadly, much more than I like to spend on jeans. I’m a cheapwad) but were 70% off! Booyah!

Somewhere I missed out on the girly jeans I was supposed to get (haha, get it, genes/jeans… bad pun, never mind). I hate shopping for clothes. I usually end up dashing from the store sweating profusely and near tears without even actually making a purchase. No lie. Now put me in the kitchen department of any store and it takes the jaws of life to get me out, and when I do emerge, you can count on my arms being full of serving dishes, strainers, blenders and such. I even like Home Depot, sometimes I used to just hang out in there when I was bored (don’t I live a thrilling life?). But clothes shopping, no way, I’d rather kiss a moving train.

But I found some new jeans! Arizona, dark wash, flare leg size… er, I’ll keep that part a secret.

To avoid any future duct tape needs, I thought ahead and bought an extra pair! Way to think ahead, Lady Fromage (*pats self on back*)

What I really want is pajama jeans. I’ll bet they’re like wearing heaven....

Things I Hate: Doctor's Visits

One nice thing about the Army is the medical insurance. Yup, we're pertty well covered. But the care provided is, uhm, well...

How come I’m asked to arrive “at least 15 minutes early” to see the doctor, and then made to sit alone in a tiny, cold room (with no magazines to be seen! Thank God I brought a paperback with me!) for 55 minutes before the MD ever pops in? Fifty-five freakin’ minutes. No apology, and then I’m rushed through my visit, hardly able to voice my concerns (to which every response is simply “Take this to the lab, they’ll run blood work”) in the generous ten minutes I was allotted.

Apparently, I had a mind reading doctor today, which would explain why he was so busy; he must be quite popular! (This is not my normal doc, mind you. Mine is friendly, and must not have telepathic powers since at those visits, I’m actually questioned about my medical history, current medications, symptoms, etc. You know, the stuff that could be important, like "Yes, this runs in my family, both sides, in fact!")

Mind reader or not, I was unimpressed, and a little irked that just because someone one to medical school his time is more important than a little blogger with internal bleeding. (Ok, irked was the wrong word. I was actually a blubbering baby about it as soon as I reached the lab for blood work. Thanks, girls, for cheering me up and addressing my questions, even though that wasn't your job. And thanks for the tissue, too.)

You can bet, Mind Reader, MD, when I make my follow up appointment in 7-10 days (even though my lab results are back already so it’d be cool to talk, uhm, before then, but whatevs….), it won’t be with you.

So I'll just keep bleedin' away for the next ten days, and since you wouldn't answer my questions about what I could do to ease things along, I'll keep being grumpy, 'cause I don't feel so good.

Anyone still want Government run health care?

Rant over.

Things I Hate: Being Bald

Have I mentioned before how much I hate Mondays?

Know what else I hate? Being bald.

See that? (Look away from the rat for a second, look to the right…) A bald patch. One of many.

I don’t even know where to start here….

First of all, I’m sorry about the quality of the picture. We did finally find the digital camera connector cord thing, but I still took this with my phone. Old habits die hard I guess.

Second, I’m sorry I look like I just woke up. I did. This was taken at about 4:57AM. This is the beautiful swamp monster (er, wife) that LT Fromage gets to wake up to every morning. (No wonder he’s gone so often! Hm…)

Lastly, because I know this is what you’re most confused about, pardon the rat on my head. Ok, it’s just weird, I know. I don’t feel like I could defend myself if I tried. That’s Howie. At any given time I have at least one rodent crawling on some part of my body. (For anyone keeping count, we’re up to 7 now) As I write this post (at work), I have Ruger snuggled in my pocket. Crazy rat lady? Perhaps. If I’m not yet, I’m well on my way to earning that title. Stay tuned.

Anyway, now that we’ve cleared all that up, did you notice it? The bald spot? I have 3 more, but frankly, I think subjecting you to this one picture was enough. You can just take my word on the others.

Why can’t the hair on my legs fall off? Or my upper lip? Or my chin? Or my…. Ehm, lady parts (because God knows, I guess you all know now too, how much waxing there hurts!).

Really? When I lose weight it’s always in my boobs (and I don’t have much to spare there!) and when I lose hair, it’s from my head. So unfair. Why can’t this stuff work in my favor?

Maybe I’ll just start covering my head in rats. Like one of those coonskin hats, you know? I might get some weird looks, but at least they would distract from my balding.