Heading to the hospital with Non for yet another lumpectomy. The pathologist says they left something in there but I don't know how the hell he knows that.
Anyways, today's going to suck but I'll survive.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
I Am a Failure At Mother's Day.
Mother's Day kinda sucks when your mom is trying to move all her shit from her old house to the new house and is entirely too busy to go out to lunch, or reminisce, or make you feel like you've acknowledged Mother's Day in any significant way whatsoever.
Also, my perfect gift idea was totally jacked by my mother's husband (I will explain why I call him that in another post.) She's never had a massage before so I told Miguel I was going to get her a certificate for one and a pedicure and he completely stole it. Like, he just said he was taking it and that I could come up with something else.
I'm glad she got it, but that well off good gift ideas dried up after that. Edible Arrangements? Booked up. Lunch? No time. Candy? She's on a diet. Flowers? Nobody delivers to bum-fuck, and certainly not at the last minute.
I can't even help her move because I'm working a 12 hour shift right now. And I can't talk to her until later so I actually had to send "Happy Mother's Day!" via text message. TEXT MESSAGE.
Fail.
-Sarah
Update: Ok, so apparently mom's husband Miguel is REALLY bad at Mother's day. He invited a bunch of his relatives over to help us move and try brought their asshole messy kids over and Mom had to clean up after their asses while Miguel got drunk on th back porch. He's way worse at this than me. Double Mega Fail.
Also, my perfect gift idea was totally jacked by my mother's husband (I will explain why I call him that in another post.) She's never had a massage before so I told Miguel I was going to get her a certificate for one and a pedicure and he completely stole it. Like, he just said he was taking it and that I could come up with something else.
I'm glad she got it, but that well off good gift ideas dried up after that. Edible Arrangements? Booked up. Lunch? No time. Candy? She's on a diet. Flowers? Nobody delivers to bum-fuck, and certainly not at the last minute.
I can't even help her move because I'm working a 12 hour shift right now. And I can't talk to her until later so I actually had to send "Happy Mother's Day!" via text message. TEXT MESSAGE.
Fail.
-Sarah
Update: Ok, so apparently mom's husband Miguel is REALLY bad at Mother's day. He invited a bunch of his relatives over to help us move and try brought their asshole messy kids over and Mom had to clean up after their asses while Miguel got drunk on th back porch. He's way worse at this than me. Double Mega Fail.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Gas Can Walk of Shame
I make my own problems sometimes. Yesterday when I was leaving for work I ran out of gas in my parking spot. Apparently I had just enough gas to get home, but not enough to leave again.
So I called my supervisor and told her I had car problems ("Don't you have a new car?") and went looking for a ride to the gas station. Neither of my neighbors would answer the door, but I found a gas can by the lawn mower in my landlord's backyard.
It was empty. Of course. But I had a gas can, damn it, so I started hoofing it the half mile to the gas station. As I walked there was a bit of a thought train going on.
(Going downhill.)
Wow, it feels nice out here! Why don't I go walking more often?
(Several cars pass.)
Damn, I'm in my fire department uniform. This is embarrassing.
(Another car.)
These people are going to think the fire department's poor. Hell, we are poor. Maybe they'll approve more funding. I've just increased the budget. Good job, Sarah.
(Half way there and a few more cars pass.)
Why haven't any of these assholes stopped to offer me a ride yet? Like, 5 cars have passed. What the hell? Do I look like a murder or something?
(At the station. Put the gas can by the pump and go in to pay.)
Ugh, this place is filthy. And that cashier's such a creeper. Why is he always on the phone? Who the hell is he talking to at 6AM? And why can't he be bothered to stop his conversation to ring me up? I know you're speaking Hindi, and I can't understand it, but that's rude. Walla-Walla-Ding-Dong to you too.
(At the pump.)
For the love of god don't get gas on your only clean uniform!!!
($5 Later.)
Seriously??? Where the hell is my gas??? I know this isn't $5 in gas.
(Walking back.)
This is the lightest gas can ever. I just got ripped off.
(Guy stops to offer me a ride.)
Freaking finally! I'm not getting in the car with this guy but at least somebody offered! I was developing a complex.
(Two more guys offer.)
Ok this guy's less creepy but I don't get in the car with strangers. Never let them take you to a secondary location. Even if you are tired.
(Walking uphill.)
Creeper guy! Come back! I'm so tired! And I'm getting sweat on my uniform! This is the heaviest gas can ever! My arm's going to fall off! Help!
(At the car.)
I know, car. It's all my fault. I did you wrong and I'm sorry.
(Filling car.)
Why does it take so long to pour this in here? It's so much faster at the pump. Is it pressurized or something?
(Returning gas can.)
If she comes out of the house and says anything now I'm just going to scream "Where were you when I needed you?!"
-Sarah
So I called my supervisor and told her I had car problems ("Don't you have a new car?") and went looking for a ride to the gas station. Neither of my neighbors would answer the door, but I found a gas can by the lawn mower in my landlord's backyard.
It was empty. Of course. But I had a gas can, damn it, so I started hoofing it the half mile to the gas station. As I walked there was a bit of a thought train going on.
(Going downhill.)
Wow, it feels nice out here! Why don't I go walking more often?
(Several cars pass.)
Damn, I'm in my fire department uniform. This is embarrassing.
(Another car.)
These people are going to think the fire department's poor. Hell, we are poor. Maybe they'll approve more funding. I've just increased the budget. Good job, Sarah.
(Half way there and a few more cars pass.)
Why haven't any of these assholes stopped to offer me a ride yet? Like, 5 cars have passed. What the hell? Do I look like a murder or something?
(At the station. Put the gas can by the pump and go in to pay.)
Ugh, this place is filthy. And that cashier's such a creeper. Why is he always on the phone? Who the hell is he talking to at 6AM? And why can't he be bothered to stop his conversation to ring me up? I know you're speaking Hindi, and I can't understand it, but that's rude. Walla-Walla-Ding-Dong to you too.
(At the pump.)
For the love of god don't get gas on your only clean uniform!!!
($5 Later.)
Seriously??? Where the hell is my gas??? I know this isn't $5 in gas.
(Walking back.)
This is the lightest gas can ever. I just got ripped off.
(Guy stops to offer me a ride.)
Freaking finally! I'm not getting in the car with this guy but at least somebody offered! I was developing a complex.
(Two more guys offer.)
Ok this guy's less creepy but I don't get in the car with strangers. Never let them take you to a secondary location. Even if you are tired.
(Walking uphill.)
Creeper guy! Come back! I'm so tired! And I'm getting sweat on my uniform! This is the heaviest gas can ever! My arm's going to fall off! Help!
(At the car.)
I know, car. It's all my fault. I did you wrong and I'm sorry.
(Filling car.)
Why does it take so long to pour this in here? It's so much faster at the pump. Is it pressurized or something?
(Returning gas can.)
If she comes out of the house and says anything now I'm just going to scream "Where were you when I needed you?!"
-Sarah
Friday, May 11, 2012
Cancer Beats Paper
I need some time to myself. Between Grandma Cancer Boob and the Constipated Wonder I've been really busy, but add in Pregnant Grandma Coworker and (I'm having a hard time finding a nickname for) my other sister who just wants to sit on my bed while I'm trying to sleep and say she's bored and it's just too much. I've been way too busy to paint my nails, vacuum my car, read a book, or do any of the other little things I like.
I'm going to pick a day every week, Thursday or Friday depending on when I'm off, and just lock my door and tell everyone to fuck off. Except Cancer Boob, I guess. Cancer beats tired granddaughter any day. It's like rock beats paper but it makes a bit more sense.
-Sarah
I'm going to pick a day every week, Thursday or Friday depending on when I'm off, and just lock my door and tell everyone to fuck off. Except Cancer Boob, I guess. Cancer beats tired granddaughter any day. It's like rock beats paper but it makes a bit more sense.
-Sarah
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
The Porn Is At The Bottom Of This Depressing Shit
I don't mean to go all serious on my audience of nobody, but I'm having a bad day. If someone should somehow stumble upon this blog while looking for porn, please know that the porn is at the bottom.
I've been at the hospital for almost 8 hours now while my Non (grandma) is in some dark and mysterious room having her boobs stabbed I can only presume. (That could be construed as a bit pornish if you're into freaky grandma hating stuff.)
If I was the one in the hospital, I think it would be better, because I'm an optimist and I have the ability to make anyone worried about me go bat-shit crazy with my attitude of complete disregard for any problems I'm having.
Non is the one in the OR though so she's freaking out about cancer boobs and I'm stuck up here trying not to cry because everyone knows that if I'm freaked out, it's bad.
The cancer's not that bad and she just had a lumpectomy a few hours ago but since then they found cancer in her lymph nodes and had to take out the rest of them and I'm not going to know if she's got cancer elsewhere until god knows when the lab sends back the report and now the doctor has given me the job of telling her about it since she was passed out before and if I act nonchalant it will sound like I don't care but if I'm sad with her then she'll break down and I have to see her in a few minutes and I don't know what to do!
I'm tired and I'm not thinking right and I'm afraid I'll do the Robin Hood Men In Tights thing and laugh in appropriately while relaying bad news and have her go what the hell are you laughing about.
Ugh. Ok, there's no porn. I know, I suck. Just not in a good way.
-Sarah
Update: I went in there and I was a total badass and didn't look sad at all and made it sound positive and I was really uncomfortable the whole time. Then I broke down in my car because I wanted to talk to my dad and I remembered that we aren't speaking to each other and that made me even more depressed.
Update Again: When I got home I found out that Mom was taking my 3 year old sister to the ER because she's been having problems pooping and abdominal pain and my friend Lynda wants me to get her and her new baby from the hospital tomorrow. Too many hospitals...
Another Update: Lynda's having her husband take her and the baby home so that's one down and my sister came home last night with a diagnosis of too much poo in her intestines, enema and laxatives recommended, so that won't be fun but that's two down. I haven't been able to reach Non but she's probably asleep. I'll get her later.
I've been at the hospital for almost 8 hours now while my Non (grandma) is in some dark and mysterious room having her boobs stabbed I can only presume. (That could be construed as a bit pornish if you're into freaky grandma hating stuff.)
If I was the one in the hospital, I think it would be better, because I'm an optimist and I have the ability to make anyone worried about me go bat-shit crazy with my attitude of complete disregard for any problems I'm having.
Non is the one in the OR though so she's freaking out about cancer boobs and I'm stuck up here trying not to cry because everyone knows that if I'm freaked out, it's bad.
The cancer's not that bad and she just had a lumpectomy a few hours ago but since then they found cancer in her lymph nodes and had to take out the rest of them and I'm not going to know if she's got cancer elsewhere until god knows when the lab sends back the report and now the doctor has given me the job of telling her about it since she was passed out before and if I act nonchalant it will sound like I don't care but if I'm sad with her then she'll break down and I have to see her in a few minutes and I don't know what to do!
I'm tired and I'm not thinking right and I'm afraid I'll do the Robin Hood Men In Tights thing and laugh in appropriately while relaying bad news and have her go what the hell are you laughing about.
Ugh. Ok, there's no porn. I know, I suck. Just not in a good way.
-Sarah
Update: I went in there and I was a total badass and didn't look sad at all and made it sound positive and I was really uncomfortable the whole time. Then I broke down in my car because I wanted to talk to my dad and I remembered that we aren't speaking to each other and that made me even more depressed.
Update Again: When I got home I found out that Mom was taking my 3 year old sister to the ER because she's been having problems pooping and abdominal pain and my friend Lynda wants me to get her and her new baby from the hospital tomorrow. Too many hospitals...
Another Update: Lynda's having her husband take her and the baby home so that's one down and my sister came home last night with a diagnosis of too much poo in her intestines, enema and laxatives recommended, so that won't be fun but that's two down. I haven't been able to reach Non but she's probably asleep. I'll get her later.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Nice Tits, Grandma!
I told my Non today that she had very nice tits for an old broad. She was unsurprisingly flattered. My family's a bit odd.
-Sarah
Update: I guess I shouldn't have told her that because since her lumpectomy she's been flashing everyone. Seriously. So far she popped her breast out for both my sisters and myself, my mom, and some chick named Carla she met yesterday. And that's just that I know of.
-Sarah
Update: I guess I shouldn't have told her that because since her lumpectomy she's been flashing everyone. Seriously. So far she popped her breast out for both my sisters and myself, my mom, and some chick named Carla she met yesterday. And that's just that I know of.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
20 Minutes of Space Madness
I am currently in the final 20 minutes of an 18 hour shift. Just 20 more minutes and I can finally go home and have a short coma. Just 20 more.
I read something once written by fake astronauts, the saddest kind of astronauts, who as part of an experiment were put into a five year (?) simulation of a space mission. The scientists studying them had all sort of evidence that when incidents occur where astronauts go bonkers it was always on the last leg of the journey. The final 20 minutes, so to speak.
God help me.
-Sarah
I read something once written by fake astronauts, the saddest kind of astronauts, who as part of an experiment were put into a five year (?) simulation of a space mission. The scientists studying them had all sort of evidence that when incidents occur where astronauts go bonkers it was always on the last leg of the journey. The final 20 minutes, so to speak.
God help me.
-Sarah
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