One good thing that has come of my recent injury is everyone has a tendency to wait on me. It's really a beautiful thing. If I sit down in a chair, everyone will come sit next to me and ask me if they can get me anything. We went to a picnic over the weekend, and I never left my chair. My fabulous friends brought me food, alcohol, and dessert. Seriously, how fabulous is that????
I have gotten so used to it, that I am a bit cold and callous with my requests now. I expect so much now that I simply hold up an empty glass and nod and I fully expect someone to refill it within seconds. (And usually they do.) And if I want something, I just point and gesture. I feel like a Queen. Well, at least, I am acting like a Queen. If for some reason you hear of my beheading, I'm pretty sure that will mean Paco has hit his breaking point.
Recently, my mother had knee-replacement surgery, and I was one of the first people in the waiting room. So, naturally, I took my court in the most comfortable chair in the room. Which just happened to be a recliner. And the lovely lady working at the desk even brought me out a pillow to prop up my leg.
So there I was, propped up in the recliner, holding court in the waiting room. (Unfortunately, I left my tiara and wand at home for the day.) The volunteer kept refilling my coffee, and the nurses kept coming out giving me updates. It was wonderful.
That is until the 400 pound lady in the chair next to me started choke-snoring. She would snore loudly and then she would stop suddenly. Seriously, I kept thinking that she had stopped breathing and then she would do this snort-choke sound and continue on snoring. And, naturally, she was right next to me.
And if that wasn't bad enough, another lady decided to turn the television channel from the morning news to the Jerry Springer Show. Seriously, I didn't even know that show was still on. I am wondering if it is a requirement to have missing teeth and your brother as a father to get on that show.
Then, the room began to fill up. And fill up some more. Soon, every chair in the place was taken.
A lovely man with a briefcase sat on the other side of me. He wanted to know all about my injury and share all his tales of woe. We chatted for quite a bit. He was very charming. His wife was there having knee-replacement surgery also. So, we were swapping notes. In the middle of his telling me about his wife's knee, I heard a loud squeaking noise, like when you rub your bare skin on vinyl. Then, my new pal says "excuse me" and keeps on talking about how his wife wasn't looking forward to the scar on her knee.
Woah, back-the-truck-up. This adorable man just farted in a full room of people and completely "excused" himself. Nice. I kinda like this guy. He's got some cahones. However, after the 4th "excuse me" I was beginning to get a bit perturbed.
So, after much coffee and chit chat, I am still perched on my fabulous recliner. My niece stopped by and brought me lunch. She even went to the bathroom for me. I never had to leave my throne.
That is until the tatooed guy wearing woody woodpecker suspenders decided to come and chat with me. He was doing his best to be flirtatious, as he clearly could tell I was royalty.
However, his breath smelled of stale cigarettes and coffee, and it was all I could do not to gag right in his face.
I really felt the need to put my hand up and dismiss him with a wave. However, it didn't work, and I just ended up looking like I was having a mild seizure.
Perhaps next time I will remember the tiara.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Scarred for Life
I had the most horrifying incident during my last water therapy session, and I fear I am scarred for life.
I should have known that my session would end badly when I entered the locker room and saw Hairy-etta doing yoga buck naked. Um, hello there. I fully expected a brontosaurus to coming running out from behind her "bush". I'm pretty sure I heard some growling. But, seriously . . . couldn't you wait until you get home??? Or at least put some clothes on???? She had her hands together over her head and she was doing some sort of lunge. I am just so thankful that I wasn't sitting behind her.
Naturally, I duck into the bathroom stall to change into my miraclesuit. Within a few minutes I emerge and head towards the pool. I glance over my shoulder on my way out just in time to see Hairy-ette bend over to do some more stretching. Nice. Thanks so much for that. I really needed to see your inner organs. Um, thanks.
I gimp into the pool and begin my session. I feel like such a pro now that I kinda know what I am doing. I was in the process of doing my side-walking when my new pal Morty entered the pool. Wow, how do I explain my new pal Morty? He is probably in his late 80's, he's very tan, with white bushy eyebrows, bright blue eyes, and a VERY bad toupee. Which - he - wears - into - the - pool. And naturally, I couldn't take my eyes off his hairpiece the entire time. I was just waiting for it to fall off, or twist around. I was completely mesmerized. My trainer Jeff had to yell at me twice to get to work. It was that bad. I just wanted to take him aside and say, "hey Mort, your eyesight is pretty bad, but your hairpiece is far worse. Um, you're not fooling anyone. It's time. It's time." Instead, I just stared at him for the majority of my therapy wondering how in the heck it was staying on.
I finished my therapy in record time and headed back to the locker room for a shower. The shower area has several private stalls, but I still wear my swimsuit in. (I need to rinse off the chlorine you see. I'm not that much of a prude.) As I crutched towards the last available stall, my crutch slipped on the wet tile and I fell down like a house of cards. And, because the tiles were so wet, I did a 40 mph slip and slide until I rammed into the shower door.
I wanted to sit there for a few seconds to catch my breath, but a bevy of women ran over to help me. AND THEY WERE NAKED!!! I really appreciate the help and all, but they weren't a pretty naked. It was actually a bit scary. I had two naked women trying to hoist me and my miraclesuit up off the floor. In the process one of the women's tubie-boobies wacked me on my ear. (And I heard it say "please get me a miraclesuit.") I was trying to avoid the other lady as much as possible because she had an Amazon Bush and I wasn't sure what might try to jump out at me. (Clearly the disposable razors I left on the grooming counter were not a big enough hint.)
I finally got on my feet again and thanked the nice ladies with the tubie-boobies and the afro-muffs for helping me. Then I carefully crutched into the shower and let the water drown out my tears.
I should have known that my session would end badly when I entered the locker room and saw Hairy-etta doing yoga buck naked. Um, hello there. I fully expected a brontosaurus to coming running out from behind her "bush". I'm pretty sure I heard some growling. But, seriously . . . couldn't you wait until you get home??? Or at least put some clothes on???? She had her hands together over her head and she was doing some sort of lunge. I am just so thankful that I wasn't sitting behind her.
Naturally, I duck into the bathroom stall to change into my miraclesuit. Within a few minutes I emerge and head towards the pool. I glance over my shoulder on my way out just in time to see Hairy-ette bend over to do some more stretching. Nice. Thanks so much for that. I really needed to see your inner organs. Um, thanks.
I gimp into the pool and begin my session. I feel like such a pro now that I kinda know what I am doing. I was in the process of doing my side-walking when my new pal Morty entered the pool. Wow, how do I explain my new pal Morty? He is probably in his late 80's, he's very tan, with white bushy eyebrows, bright blue eyes, and a VERY bad toupee. Which - he - wears - into - the - pool. And naturally, I couldn't take my eyes off his hairpiece the entire time. I was just waiting for it to fall off, or twist around. I was completely mesmerized. My trainer Jeff had to yell at me twice to get to work. It was that bad. I just wanted to take him aside and say, "hey Mort, your eyesight is pretty bad, but your hairpiece is far worse. Um, you're not fooling anyone. It's time. It's time." Instead, I just stared at him for the majority of my therapy wondering how in the heck it was staying on.
I finished my therapy in record time and headed back to the locker room for a shower. The shower area has several private stalls, but I still wear my swimsuit in. (I need to rinse off the chlorine you see. I'm not that much of a prude.) As I crutched towards the last available stall, my crutch slipped on the wet tile and I fell down like a house of cards. And, because the tiles were so wet, I did a 40 mph slip and slide until I rammed into the shower door.
I wanted to sit there for a few seconds to catch my breath, but a bevy of women ran over to help me. AND THEY WERE NAKED!!! I really appreciate the help and all, but they weren't a pretty naked. It was actually a bit scary. I had two naked women trying to hoist me and my miraclesuit up off the floor. In the process one of the women's tubie-boobies wacked me on my ear. (And I heard it say "please get me a miraclesuit.") I was trying to avoid the other lady as much as possible because she had an Amazon Bush and I wasn't sure what might try to jump out at me. (Clearly the disposable razors I left on the grooming counter were not a big enough hint.)
I finally got on my feet again and thanked the nice ladies with the tubie-boobies and the afro-muffs for helping me. Then I carefully crutched into the shower and let the water drown out my tears.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Esther Williams
I have started aquatic physical therapy for my knee. And you know what?? It's FABULOUS. Seriously, I LOOOOOOVEEE it. Never in a million years did you expect to hear that, right?
I was very skeptical at first. I am doing my therapy at a new state-of-the-art fitness and medical complex. It is full of happy-little-skinny people. That there is enough to make me run in the other direction. But, the thought of them all enjoying the sight of gimp girl in her miraclesuit was even more daunting.
I am still relying on my crutches, and I am unable to walk up or down steps. So, my therapist Jeff informed me that they have a special chair that can lift me in and out of the pool. Naturally, I named it the Whale Lift and I envisioned the worst. I could see an industrial sized whale net that swung in and out of the water. I could just actually hear the super-sonic loud beeps that I'm sure the lift will make. I could picture the glass walls of the pool area facing out into the fitness area and I could see the entire Fitness Center running to the pool area to watch the whale be released back into the wild.
As I entered my first day, I was able to see that thankfully the pool is seperate from the rest of the fitness center. I am safe from the prying eyes of all the skinny joggers. I also saw that the whale lift was a chair attached to a pole that raised and lowered in and out of the water. Not nearly the contraption I had pictured in my mind. I also had the pleasure of watching the last 10 minutes of the Aquacize class.
This is where it gets interesting. The class had about 40 people in it. And every single one of them had white hair. I think the youngest person was 403. These are folks that grew up with pet dinosaurs. And they were all hopping, bopping, and stretching their little hearts out. And every . . .single . . . one . . . WALKED out of the pool. (with fabulous water shoes to boot!) Not one had to use the whale lift. (And there were a few whale-sized aquasizers in the group.)
So, when it came time to um, go in the water, naturally I decided that come hell or high-water I would not be needing the assistance of the whale lift. 20 minutes later, I finally made it in the pool. (baby steps...baby steps)
Naturally, I wore my miracle suit. And naturally, I was feeling fab-u-lous. That was until I got a wolf-whistle and a "hey hot stuff" from the life guard. I should have been flattered, however the life guard is a guy that had a crush on me in high school, so therefore, I was completely mortified. I have doubled in size since high school. And there aint no suit on this earth miraculous enough to conceal that. We chatted for a bit and I learned that he would be covering all my therapy sessions. Lucky me. I am just praying that I don't drown. We all know how my luck has been lately.
After a few minutes in the water, I was feeling great. I could walk!! And, my boobs looked wonderful!!! How do I know? Because the four geriatric men in my therapy group couldn't stop staring! Even my therapist Jeff had to tell them to stop swarming me. So now I have four new pool boyfriends. I have affectionately named them Fred, Ed, Ted, and Jed. (FYI - Jed is the one with the white Grizzly Adams beard and the carpet of back hair.)
I am the Esther Williams of my pool group. Not only am I the youngest by about about 30 years, I am also the skinniest of all the ladies in my group. It was such a needed ego boost! I kicked, pedaled, circled, and waved in Gold-Medal-Olmpic-Synchronized-Swimming-form. You all would have been proud.
After my hour-long session, I took another 40 minutes to make it up the pool stairs. But, dang it, I did it. (I may have been crying and holding Jeff's hand at the end, but by golly, I did it.)
The trip back to the locker room is where it gets REALLY intersting. There were naked women EVERYWHERE. Hoards of naked women. EV-ER-Y-WHERE. At the sink, in the shower, coming out of the sauna, at the lockers, in the toilets, doing their hair, well, I think you get the picture.
The catch is, they were rather floppy, droopy, and large women. (Um, and a word of advice: if you are going to strut around nude in a semi-public place, please, please, please make sure your muff isn't large enough to conceal a faction of enemy terrorists. razors are only like a dollar now. the fro look went out in the 70's.) I could understand the need to strut around nude if you looked like Gisele Bundchen, however, these women were more along the lines of Mrs. Roper on Three's company. Yeah, you get the picture.
And they are just hanging out chatting and doing their hair. One nudie asked me how I hurt my leg. I'm straight and all but I still couldn't help but stare at her boobies. I was amazed at how long they were for being so small. They were almost tubular. She's all "oh, you poor thing. I hope things get better." And I'm all "hey tubie-boobies, you really should try a bathrobe." Oy.
I even had the pleasure of being mooned by a prominent local real estate agent. I'm sitting on the bench getting my shoes on, and as she bent over to pull up her panties, her rose-tatooed ars was a mere inches from my face. Nice, eh? I will never look at her picture in the wednesday paper the same . . .
Naturally I changed in the bathroom stall. I'm still a bit too modest to share my girly-parts with a quarter of the Ithaca population. (This is the exact reason I chose not to take any pain medication before class.)
Next session, I think I may just skip the locker room altogether . . .
I was very skeptical at first. I am doing my therapy at a new state-of-the-art fitness and medical complex. It is full of happy-little-skinny people. That there is enough to make me run in the other direction. But, the thought of them all enjoying the sight of gimp girl in her miraclesuit was even more daunting.
I am still relying on my crutches, and I am unable to walk up or down steps. So, my therapist Jeff informed me that they have a special chair that can lift me in and out of the pool. Naturally, I named it the Whale Lift and I envisioned the worst. I could see an industrial sized whale net that swung in and out of the water. I could just actually hear the super-sonic loud beeps that I'm sure the lift will make. I could picture the glass walls of the pool area facing out into the fitness area and I could see the entire Fitness Center running to the pool area to watch the whale be released back into the wild.
As I entered my first day, I was able to see that thankfully the pool is seperate from the rest of the fitness center. I am safe from the prying eyes of all the skinny joggers. I also saw that the whale lift was a chair attached to a pole that raised and lowered in and out of the water. Not nearly the contraption I had pictured in my mind. I also had the pleasure of watching the last 10 minutes of the Aquacize class.
This is where it gets interesting. The class had about 40 people in it. And every single one of them had white hair. I think the youngest person was 403. These are folks that grew up with pet dinosaurs. And they were all hopping, bopping, and stretching their little hearts out. And every . . .single . . . one . . . WALKED out of the pool. (with fabulous water shoes to boot!) Not one had to use the whale lift. (And there were a few whale-sized aquasizers in the group.)
So, when it came time to um, go in the water, naturally I decided that come hell or high-water I would not be needing the assistance of the whale lift. 20 minutes later, I finally made it in the pool. (baby steps...baby steps)
Naturally, I wore my miracle suit. And naturally, I was feeling fab-u-lous. That was until I got a wolf-whistle and a "hey hot stuff" from the life guard. I should have been flattered, however the life guard is a guy that had a crush on me in high school, so therefore, I was completely mortified. I have doubled in size since high school. And there aint no suit on this earth miraculous enough to conceal that. We chatted for a bit and I learned that he would be covering all my therapy sessions. Lucky me. I am just praying that I don't drown. We all know how my luck has been lately.
After a few minutes in the water, I was feeling great. I could walk!! And, my boobs looked wonderful!!! How do I know? Because the four geriatric men in my therapy group couldn't stop staring! Even my therapist Jeff had to tell them to stop swarming me. So now I have four new pool boyfriends. I have affectionately named them Fred, Ed, Ted, and Jed. (FYI - Jed is the one with the white Grizzly Adams beard and the carpet of back hair.)
I am the Esther Williams of my pool group. Not only am I the youngest by about about 30 years, I am also the skinniest of all the ladies in my group. It was such a needed ego boost! I kicked, pedaled, circled, and waved in Gold-Medal-Olmpic-Synchronized-Swimming-form. You all would have been proud.
After my hour-long session, I took another 40 minutes to make it up the pool stairs. But, dang it, I did it. (I may have been crying and holding Jeff's hand at the end, but by golly, I did it.)
The trip back to the locker room is where it gets REALLY intersting. There were naked women EVERYWHERE. Hoards of naked women. EV-ER-Y-WHERE. At the sink, in the shower, coming out of the sauna, at the lockers, in the toilets, doing their hair, well, I think you get the picture.
The catch is, they were rather floppy, droopy, and large women. (Um, and a word of advice: if you are going to strut around nude in a semi-public place, please, please, please make sure your muff isn't large enough to conceal a faction of enemy terrorists. razors are only like a dollar now. the fro look went out in the 70's.) I could understand the need to strut around nude if you looked like Gisele Bundchen, however, these women were more along the lines of Mrs. Roper on Three's company. Yeah, you get the picture.
And they are just hanging out chatting and doing their hair. One nudie asked me how I hurt my leg. I'm straight and all but I still couldn't help but stare at her boobies. I was amazed at how long they were for being so small. They were almost tubular. She's all "oh, you poor thing. I hope things get better." And I'm all "hey tubie-boobies, you really should try a bathrobe." Oy.
I even had the pleasure of being mooned by a prominent local real estate agent. I'm sitting on the bench getting my shoes on, and as she bent over to pull up her panties, her rose-tatooed ars was a mere inches from my face. Nice, eh? I will never look at her picture in the wednesday paper the same . . .
Naturally I changed in the bathroom stall. I'm still a bit too modest to share my girly-parts with a quarter of the Ithaca population. (This is the exact reason I chose not to take any pain medication before class.)
Next session, I think I may just skip the locker room altogether . . .
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Side Effects
I wish to warn you all about the ill effects of Percocet. Apparently if you take a Percocet and watch TV, you will think you need to have every crazy item that they are selling. Somehow this drug affects the brain in such a way that you become void of all common sense. Infomercials are my new vice. I can’t watch one without ordering. I have become a sucker.
It has gotten so bad that Paco has threatened to hide my credit cards.
I will highlight a few of my recent purchases:
Touch n Brush – if you can get it to stick to the wall, it’s fabulous. My girlfriend actually had to stick hers in the shower because it won’t stick anywhere else. Gives the perfect amount of toothpaste every time. However, my kids still manage to get toothpaste on the ceiling. Go figure.
Bump its – fabulous hair bumper. Just can’t manage to make me not look like a blonde Amy Winehouse with a 3’ birds nest on my head. Need more practice.
Ken Paves & Jessica Simpson Hair Do – I still don’t remember ordering this. When the box came, I thought it was a joke. And then I saw the receipt with my signature. Hmmmmm. Very interesting. It’s a blond hair piece that doesn’t work with my hair whatsoever. I’ve tried and tried, but it looks like a dead cat sitting on my head. Still haven’t figured it out. But, it certainly makes for an interesting evening, let me tell you. It looks FABULOUS on my dog Otis. I will post pics at some point. However, if you see me out in public with my, er, hair looking like Dolly Parton’s, well, please be kind. Remember, I am on medication.
Strap Perfect – Could have just used a safety pin, but really needed the fancy plastic disc that provides an instant boob lift and perfect posture. Yeah, not-so-much. I would need a Frisbee-sized disc to give my girls the lift they need.
Smooth Away – Worthless. Rubs your skin right off. So, technically, a good hair remover, I guess.
Topsy Turvy – Will let you know when I am enjoying grapefruit sized tomatoes weeks from now.
Buxton Purse Organizer – My purse weighs 400 pounds, and my 8 year old thought I really NEEDED this. Every time the commercial comes on he reminds me that I really should get it. It is hideous looking, but really has pouches and pockets for everything. It is actually quite handy because it straps across my chest, so I can still use my crutches. Now my purse only weighs 300 pounds and I look like Granny Grunt. But, at least I can find my cell phone.
Jewelry Television – Wow. I think I need EVERYTHING. I spent 20 minutes on hold trying to order an 8 carat tennis bracelet. Luckily it sold out before I sobered up. Don’t think I could have snuck that charge past Paco.
Orange Glo Wood Floor Repair – Just makes the floor look wet and shiny for a few minutes. Doesn’t restore crap. Doesn’t fix crap. And still requires me to actually push the mop. Dud.
Aqua Globes – Wonderful product. However, there is a secret that they don’t tell you about. (You need to refill them for them to be completely effective). I still managed to kill 4 houseplants.
Sham Wow – Vince is a hooker-beating liar. Does NOT suck dog pee out of the carpet with just a few punches and tappity taps. Ok, so I technically purchased these prior to Percocet, however, it is so much fun to say hooker-beating liar.
EZ Combs – Wow, prom worthy hair in seconds. (I haven’t ordered yet but I think I can’t live without them. Will be ordering once I find my credit cards.)
I must be close to some sort of infomercial record. I am fully expecting Billy Mays to send me flowers any day now.
Oh, and if you are not poor like me and Girlfriend Beki, please buy something at www.LiaSophia.com/ColeenMcKeown there is still time.
If I could only find those darn credit cards . . .
It has gotten so bad that Paco has threatened to hide my credit cards.
I will highlight a few of my recent purchases:
Touch n Brush – if you can get it to stick to the wall, it’s fabulous. My girlfriend actually had to stick hers in the shower because it won’t stick anywhere else. Gives the perfect amount of toothpaste every time. However, my kids still manage to get toothpaste on the ceiling. Go figure.
Bump its – fabulous hair bumper. Just can’t manage to make me not look like a blonde Amy Winehouse with a 3’ birds nest on my head. Need more practice.
Ken Paves & Jessica Simpson Hair Do – I still don’t remember ordering this. When the box came, I thought it was a joke. And then I saw the receipt with my signature. Hmmmmm. Very interesting. It’s a blond hair piece that doesn’t work with my hair whatsoever. I’ve tried and tried, but it looks like a dead cat sitting on my head. Still haven’t figured it out. But, it certainly makes for an interesting evening, let me tell you. It looks FABULOUS on my dog Otis. I will post pics at some point. However, if you see me out in public with my, er, hair looking like Dolly Parton’s, well, please be kind. Remember, I am on medication.
Strap Perfect – Could have just used a safety pin, but really needed the fancy plastic disc that provides an instant boob lift and perfect posture. Yeah, not-so-much. I would need a Frisbee-sized disc to give my girls the lift they need.
Smooth Away – Worthless. Rubs your skin right off. So, technically, a good hair remover, I guess.
Topsy Turvy – Will let you know when I am enjoying grapefruit sized tomatoes weeks from now.
Buxton Purse Organizer – My purse weighs 400 pounds, and my 8 year old thought I really NEEDED this. Every time the commercial comes on he reminds me that I really should get it. It is hideous looking, but really has pouches and pockets for everything. It is actually quite handy because it straps across my chest, so I can still use my crutches. Now my purse only weighs 300 pounds and I look like Granny Grunt. But, at least I can find my cell phone.
Jewelry Television – Wow. I think I need EVERYTHING. I spent 20 minutes on hold trying to order an 8 carat tennis bracelet. Luckily it sold out before I sobered up. Don’t think I could have snuck that charge past Paco.
Orange Glo Wood Floor Repair – Just makes the floor look wet and shiny for a few minutes. Doesn’t restore crap. Doesn’t fix crap. And still requires me to actually push the mop. Dud.
Aqua Globes – Wonderful product. However, there is a secret that they don’t tell you about. (You need to refill them for them to be completely effective). I still managed to kill 4 houseplants.
Sham Wow – Vince is a hooker-beating liar. Does NOT suck dog pee out of the carpet with just a few punches and tappity taps. Ok, so I technically purchased these prior to Percocet, however, it is so much fun to say hooker-beating liar.
EZ Combs – Wow, prom worthy hair in seconds. (I haven’t ordered yet but I think I can’t live without them. Will be ordering once I find my credit cards.)
I must be close to some sort of infomercial record. I am fully expecting Billy Mays to send me flowers any day now.
Oh, and if you are not poor like me and Girlfriend Beki, please buy something at www.LiaSophia.com/ColeenMcKeown there is still time.
If I could only find those darn credit cards . . .
Friday, May 8, 2009
Teaser
All I can say is that I am starting aquatic pyhsical therapy. Me. Crutches. Swimsuit. Pool. Lifeguards.
If you want to whole story, buy some jewelry at www.LiaSophia.com/Coleenmckeown
Buy a pair of earrings. Something. Support me.
Thanks to Girlfriend Shelle, Girlfriend Amy L, Girlfriend Heather, Girlfriend Kelly, and Girlfriend Ardell for helping a sister out.
I will email you lovely ladies the full story, and it's freakin' hysterical.
For the rest of you, you know how to motivate me. And, believe me, I really need motivation.
If you want to whole story, buy some jewelry at www.LiaSophia.com/Coleenmckeown
Buy a pair of earrings. Something. Support me.
Thanks to Girlfriend Shelle, Girlfriend Amy L, Girlfriend Heather, Girlfriend Kelly, and Girlfriend Ardell for helping a sister out.
I will email you lovely ladies the full story, and it's freakin' hysterical.
For the rest of you, you know how to motivate me. And, believe me, I really need motivation.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Motivation
I have become quite pathetic and lazy lately. Since I have such difficulty getting around, I literally stopped moving. I lay on the couch all day and watch TV and read. Pathetic.
However, the good news is that the little bug I had last week cleared me of the er, 12 pounds of fluid I, um, gained on vacation. I am even down a few pounds. I call it the rooter-tooter diet. However, I don't recommend it to anyone.
I have also been using the "i'm too lazy to get up to get food" diet. Since the kitchen is like 14 miles away, I never seem to get there anymore. I put a large bowl of fruit in the living room so I could have an occasional healthy snack. However the kids wiped that out in about 20 minutes.
Since I have become so blatantly pathetic, I have found it even somewhat difficult to write. That involves me actually having to sit up. Oy, the effort.
So, I need some motivation. Buy something from my Lia Sophia book show and motivate me to write. I'm totally whoring myself out for jewelry. (I'm on to groceries next, so watch out.)
Go to www.LiaSophia.com/ColeenMcKeown and support my addiction.
It ends this week. The more jewelry I get, the more posts you get. Deal? I really have some fabulous stories to tell . . .
However, the good news is that the little bug I had last week cleared me of the er, 12 pounds of fluid I, um, gained on vacation. I am even down a few pounds. I call it the rooter-tooter diet. However, I don't recommend it to anyone.
I have also been using the "i'm too lazy to get up to get food" diet. Since the kitchen is like 14 miles away, I never seem to get there anymore. I put a large bowl of fruit in the living room so I could have an occasional healthy snack. However the kids wiped that out in about 20 minutes.
Since I have become so blatantly pathetic, I have found it even somewhat difficult to write. That involves me actually having to sit up. Oy, the effort.
So, I need some motivation. Buy something from my Lia Sophia book show and motivate me to write. I'm totally whoring myself out for jewelry. (I'm on to groceries next, so watch out.)
Go to www.LiaSophia.com/ColeenMcKeown and support my addiction.
It ends this week. The more jewelry I get, the more posts you get. Deal? I really have some fabulous stories to tell . . .
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Firing on All Cylinders
I have clearly upset the Gods.
I'm not sure if it was the window-licker comments or my murderous thoughts toward Paco.
Whatever it was, I'm so very, very sorry. VERY sorry.
I have spent the last 2 days fighting a miserable bug. I'm literally firing on all cylinders. Both ends are spouting like Old Faithful.
And when your relying on crutches and a wheelchair for transportation. Well, it's pretty stinkin' miserable.
And like Old Faithful, I erupt every hour, like clockwork.
The best was Paco came home from basketball and found me on the toilet, puking out my spaghetti dinner into the bathroom trash can.
Since I was unable to clean up after myself, Paco was given the wonderful task of cleaning up my mess in the trash can. And since I only used a flimsy Wegmans bag as a can liner, naturally, when he removed the bag, he managed to soak himself in my spaghetti vomit.
Perhaps that will teach him to let me out in public with a ginormous clip stuck to my head, eh?
I'm not sure if it was the window-licker comments or my murderous thoughts toward Paco.
Whatever it was, I'm so very, very sorry. VERY sorry.
I have spent the last 2 days fighting a miserable bug. I'm literally firing on all cylinders. Both ends are spouting like Old Faithful.
And when your relying on crutches and a wheelchair for transportation. Well, it's pretty stinkin' miserable.
And like Old Faithful, I erupt every hour, like clockwork.
The best was Paco came home from basketball and found me on the toilet, puking out my spaghetti dinner into the bathroom trash can.
Since I was unable to clean up after myself, Paco was given the wonderful task of cleaning up my mess in the trash can. And since I only used a flimsy Wegmans bag as a can liner, naturally, when he removed the bag, he managed to soak himself in my spaghetti vomit.
Perhaps that will teach him to let me out in public with a ginormous clip stuck to my head, eh?
Friday, May 1, 2009
Cultural Enrichment
Is there such a thing as too much enrichment?
I am really starting to think so.
My precious son Duece was invited to participate in the violin program this year. It is a scholarship program for select kids in the elementary school that show musical aptitude.
Wow, what an honor. We were so thrilled that he was chosen that naturally we said yes.
What was I thinking??????
After 8 weeks of instruction, Deuce was finally able to bring home his own violin to practice for the upcoming concert.
And after 8 weeks of instruction he knows exactly ONE note.
So for an hour EVERY night we get to listen to lovely screeching sound of eeeehhhh, eeeeeeehhhh, eeeeeeehhhh, eeeeehhhhhhh.
He insists he is playing a song called "Everybody Stop Stop." But, I swear it is more of an eehhh, ehhhh, eehh, eehh, eh, eeeehhhhh, eehh.
For his big concert he playes this eehhh, ehhhhh, eehhh, eehhh, eh, eeeehhhhhh, eehh 24 times in a row. Yes, I said 24 TIMES IN A ROW. And the best part, there will be 25 other kids making the same screeching sounds 24 times in a row.
I don't think there is enough motrin on this planet to get me through this concert. Ear muffs? Maybe.
I am really starting to think so.
My precious son Duece was invited to participate in the violin program this year. It is a scholarship program for select kids in the elementary school that show musical aptitude.
Wow, what an honor. We were so thrilled that he was chosen that naturally we said yes.
What was I thinking??????
After 8 weeks of instruction, Deuce was finally able to bring home his own violin to practice for the upcoming concert.
And after 8 weeks of instruction he knows exactly ONE note.
So for an hour EVERY night we get to listen to lovely screeching sound of eeeehhhh, eeeeeeehhhh, eeeeeeehhhh, eeeeehhhhhhh.
He insists he is playing a song called "Everybody Stop Stop." But, I swear it is more of an eehhh, ehhhh, eehh, eehh, eh, eeeehhhhh, eehh.
For his big concert he playes this eehhh, ehhhhh, eehhh, eehhh, eh, eeeehhhhhh, eehh 24 times in a row. Yes, I said 24 TIMES IN A ROW. And the best part, there will be 25 other kids making the same screeching sounds 24 times in a row.
I don't think there is enough motrin on this planet to get me through this concert. Ear muffs? Maybe.
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