And, BREATHE

Good Lawdy Loo, things are getting a bit tight around here.  Not just in my ever increasing belly with two spazz dancers in there, but in life.  Every day it seems the pressure increases.

At work, there are approximately 8,385 things I need to get done. Today. This minute.  I feel like I'm losing my shit several times a day lately.  Juggling an incredibly demanding job and also every few moments - oh here it comes again -  OH MY GODS I HAVE TWO BABIES IN MY BELLY AND THEY JUST KEEP GROWING AND THEY ARE GOING TO BE HERE IN LIKE, 5 MINUTES AND WE AREN'T READY AT ALL AND OH MY GODS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Yes I scream in my head like that. 

I feel like I'm losing it a bit lately.  And yes, I have folks in my life that keep me in check, mainly my dear sweet dumpster husband, who I could not handle any of this without right now, but also, FRIENDS.  Sponsees and other friends who are such a gift to me they really have absolutely no idea how much I value them.  I wish I could make them see.  I wish I could impart that this two sided thing we do in working a program, working an equal sided friendship, helps both of us, every day.  ALL THE TIME. 

Here's part of an email exchange with a very close friend and woman I sort of sponsor in the program and I last night (name left out obviously).  There is a point to this, hang with me here:

Her: "please, do not be grateful for me. I am tired and worn and feel finished. Not really, but, yes. Ya know?  I cannot tell you how you inspire me each day to remain optimistic and alive.
thank you.  so. motherfucking. much.  I love you..."

Katy: "I love you. So motherfucking much. So grateful for you. I am. Can't stop me. Yes I know what you mean about being done. But we keep going. I want to cry and scream a lot lately. Out of control. But I just breathe, meditate, walk, pray how I do, gratitude list, meetings, all the shit we do. We keep going.

Her: "See. It's this shit that just made me set my alarm and promise I'd do what I said I'd do. Fuck! Sometimes I don't like you. But never really. And then, yes, I recall it all. So, this shit gets done...I cannot even grasp what you face each day, babe. I mean that.  This is fucking rough...from start to end. Yes, of course it's worth every single tough second.  It's. still. Tough.  It's fucking IRONMAN tough. You've got balls like nobody I've known. Shit, talk about grateful. It's I for you, yep, me, for you...Thank you."

Katy: "That. Is why I'm so grateful for you. We love each other. Hard. We are both Ironman tough. Thank you for everything. I love it when you say you don't like me."

Her: "Haha. It's when you wouldn't think so..."

Katy "I know. You are one of a kind."

Her: "It's your constant introspect that I respect/love/hate. It's every bad thing I had done by 8 am."

Katy: "You are great right where you are. I promise. And we get better every day if we want. And WE WANT!"

I have a few reasons for sharing this tidbit of goodness:

1. A few years ago I would NEVER have had a girlfriend.  Let alone Sponsees or women in the program who trust me enough to share this fundamental stuff with me.  And no way would I share all this shit with them.  I wasn't worthy of friendship or trust.  I couldn't give and I couldn't receive.
2. I hated my sponsor when I first started working with her 10 some years ago. HATED HER.  And yet, she was everything I wanted to be.  Make sense?  Confident, smart, funny, grateful, solid.  And  yet still able to admit faults and weaknesses and not having all the answers.  Am I becoming like my sponsor who I admire so much?  Gods, I hope so.   
3. I have amazing people in my life today.  I didn't ask for them, but somehow they found me.  And I cannot express how grateful I am for them. 
4. The gift of being able to write like this.  That's all.  It is a gift to me that it just comes out.  I can't even help it any more.

The reality is, I am doing just fine.  I am more healthy than I have a right to be and am doing the right things.  I am feeling so many things right now that I never ever thought I would be lucky enough to feel.  I am feeling babies moving around.  I am feeling loved and taken care of.  I am letting people take care of me and not trying to be Super Woman all the damn time.  I am admitting weakness and when I need help.  This is a new type of thing for me.  Both at work and in life, I am asking for help.  In different ways than I am used to.  We always talk about if you aren't moving forward you are moving backwards, right?

Well, my take is perfection is boring.  Having your shit together all the time is overrated.  The crazed lady with the bugged out eyeballs and belly growing with each huge laugh is way more fun.  And the one who is constantly craving a smoke, but doesn't do it? Yeah.  She's the one I want to hang out with.  She is sure to be fun. 

DDW Guest Post - Life is SOOOOOO Good

Who is luckier than me to get to guest post on Daddy Doin' Work?
Nobody, that's who.  Hope and positivity are the message with him.  You know we love that.  I met Doyin back when he was awesome enough to Guest Post for me in July this year. He brought down the house with his post and I'm so happy he asked me to return the favor. 

Here it is! My all new Guest Post. Life is SOOOO Good.

Thumbs Up!

The only thing funnier would have been if he gave us the "thumbs down" sign.

This is the boy's hand.  Giving us the "thumbs up" sign at our 20 week ultrasound yesterday.  The girl was all dancing around and we saw her little feets moving around, making it hard for the tech to get a good picture of her. 

There aren't many words to describe that feeling of awe and joy when you first see the fully formed little mini humans moving around inside your belly. 

So, I will just share a couple more photos with you.



The boy.  In profile.



And, the girl.  THE GIRL.

All is well in there.  They are both in great shape and all measurements and checks indicate that they are developing as they should be.  Gratitude abounds. 

What the HELL is HAPPENING?

OH CHILD, this belly is growing at a rapidly alarming rate!  Not to mention my ass.  This is the time, people.  The time of glowing and happiness and basking in the wonder that is creating not one but TWO babes in my increasing by the day belly.

There they are!  Dancing around in there like only Hall & Oates can!

And I am.  I feel great!  After the hell that was In Vitro for me, this pregnancy is a piece of cake.  And at 18 weeks along, I am right where I should be.  The bumpsters are mango sized now according to the "What to Expect When You are Expecting" app that I have on my phone.  They're all fruit and vegetable sizes, so that's a little weird but also good perspective, rather than, YOUR BABY is 5 INCHES.  Give me a mango and yeah, I know what that shit looks like.  And maybe want to eat it, which is only a tad disconcerting.  I'm eating pretty well with some allowances for some stuff I crave, but nothing crazy.  I'm trying to walk on a regular basis and just overall trying to be healthy.  I don't believe being pregnant is an excuse to throw everything out the window and just eat crap.  Nobody benefits from that, my babies or me.  Or my husband who I want to be attracted to ALL THIS.

This is the time where panic and happiness and excitement collide.  Just thinking about all the baby shit we will need is overwhelming to the point where I literally bat my arms around and say, "OK, I'll come back to that later...." The really fortunate thing is we have several friends who have twins and can help me with this process.  The registering, the feelings the reality of what all of this is going to take.  I've had maternity clothes given to me second hand and offers of all kinds of baby stuff and I couldn't be more grateful.  Don't even get me started on how freaked out I get by baby showers and all the stuff.  Social anxiety combined with people giving us shit, is overwhelming to say the least.  So grateful, but so overwhelmed. 

AND,  What is going to happen when I go back to work? 

*SCREECHING HALT NOISE*

Reel it all back in there, sister. 

Gazillions of people have done this before with way less resources, money and love than we have.  Millions will do it after us.  What I really really really want to do right now is enjoy where we are.  We have two babes that are developing and growing and dancing and getting ready to rock our worlds upon their arrival. 

It is simultaneously the scariest and most exhilarating feeling I've ever known.

Nothing new or earth shattering as we are just grains of sand that are doing what so many have done before us, but dammit, this is new to me.  New to us.  And we are truly loving it.  As surreal as it is, and I never thought we would be in this situation, the joy I feel when I see and hear my dear sweet Dumpster Husband talking to our babies makes me weepy with joy.  WEEPY WITH JOY. 

Now, back to my rapidly expanding ass.......

The Darkness I SHOULD NOT Feel LET ALONE Talk About

Here's the awful truth, that we as women are not supposed to talk about, I was pregnant in the very early days of my pregnancy and I was ecstatically happy, except that I was still mega depressed from going through IVF (In VItro Made Me CRAZY) and the HORMONES MADE ME CRAZY  -- joint post with my girl Sam Irby, who was being made nutso by hormones as well for different reasons.  THOSE HORMONES ARE BASTARDS. 

People know about Postpartum Depression these days as many women experience this and it's more talked about.  But this damn pre-natal pregnancy depression kicked me in the vagina and the head and the heart big time.  My dear sweet Dumpster Husband sent me this article this morning that absolutely hit home as to what I was going through and and while I am on an upswing from now, it's still very relevant.

Not Just the Pregnancy Blues by Jessica Grose on Slate

I stopped all my meds in July 2011, the last one being Zoloft, as I was getting my body in prime baby baking shape.  Now, that was hard to withdraw from, but I did it, and honestly, didn't have that much of a serious problem with anxiety or depression until I started the damn hormones and birth control pills they jacked me up on for In Vitro.  It's a stronger dose than regular pills, and I had never been on the pill in my life, so this was all new to me.

I put myself through this, so I know it's my own fault.  I've been on psych wards.  NOT AS AN OBSERVER.  You know what I'm saying?  I am no stranger to mental health issues.  I have a history here and I am aware of what healthy is for me and what it is not.  I was not healthy going through IVF.  I was fucked up.  BUT, I also knew it would pass and hopefully the outcome would be worth it.  Which, in our case, it absolutely is.  But I feel I need to address it.  

The pill made me fucking crazy.  It made me seriously lethargic and depressed.  As in, I didn't leave our apartment for about 3 months, unless it was going to work or something I absolutely had to do.  And even then it was such a Herculean effort, that it took all my energy to just get my ass out of bed.  I could barely go to the grocery store. I was miserable. It seems silly to say this about a pill that has done huge things for women through the years and I'm grateful for the pill but GOD DAMMIT, SCREW YOU PILL!

Even after I found out we were pregnant, we were just so nervous and I was in a funk about it.  WHY?  Because my chemical make up responded wackily to these drugs and to the hormones from then being pregnant. 

Now that I'm in my 2nd trimester, the depression and lethargy have subsided.  I see my friends and go out and do things.  My friends that I kept saying, "NO NO NO NO NO" to everything they asked of me, I now say "yes" again and it feels good.  I'm not encumbered by the hurt and the anxiousness I was engulfed in during those three months.  When I'm smiling my big goofy ass smile, it's absolutely genuine and I'm not barking at people pretty much at all.  All to say, I'm so god damned happy it's kind of sickening.

Anyone who says I am complaining when I should be the happiest woman in the world right now for being pregnant with twins, can kiss my white Irish arse.  Everyone who reads my blog and knows me knows how OVER THE FUCKING MOON I AM.  But this?  This realization that I really got socked with something major and didn't even FULLY really realize it at the time, makes me think there have to be so many others out there who have gone through this, or are going through this as well. 

The only reason I am able to write about this now with any kind of clarity is because I am climbing out of it.  You see me smiling and laughing and that is doubly good because I am pregnant with miracle babies.  Hope and Weird Science made these babies. This blog and writing and some very dear friends I've connected with through the internets and of course A.A. and my Dear Sweet Husband have helped me through this.  Sometimes the most I could do was write.  And I kept writing.  And I kept being grateful.  As miserable as I was, I was always grateful.  That doesn't change.  If it ever does change, we are in serious trouble.  Everything else passes, gratitude just evolves.  I'm so grateful I am not in that hole I was in even a few weeks ago.  I also know I can go into a different hole as this pregnancy continues and even after I give birth.  Being aware and able to talk about it is so very helpful.

The happy is back!  For now. 

 

Embrace ALL the feelings.  Not just the shiny happy ones.  That is the only way we are truly healthy.  I have to feel the bad to feel the good.  Embrace and deal with ALL THE FEELINGS.  And just because they aren't fact, doesn't mean we don't need to deal with them in some way.  THIS TOO SHALL PASS. 

KaBUMPo!!!!!

Don't Be a Dick

I had the privilege of doing a short and sweet guest blog over at Insane In The Mom-Brain's blog.  Which is funny as hell - her blog - not this post necessarily.  But check her out please if you haven't already, she is mad funny and I'm pleased as punch to call her my friend.

Kicking Ass on Hormones

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It's Not Me, It's the Hormones

Well Well Well.  We have arrived at the point in which I can confidently say, we are doing IN VITRO FERTILIZATION.  Cue DUN DUN DUN sound here.

KATY SMASH.

Now, I am on week two of the birth control pills and I have a rash that is causing me to break out into scratching spasms at all times, day and night.  Mostly out of a dead sleep and my poor husband.  MY POOR DEAR HUSBAND.  Who will help me administer my first actual shot tonight. 

This is how I think I look most of the time:

When in all reality, THIS is what I look like at all times lately.



This is what trying to scratch everywhere on your body looks like when you try to do it using only your mind. 
Tip - IT DOES NOT WORK. 



I have bruises all over my body from the scratching.  I have tried everything so please you really don't need to write or comment to tell me what I need to do. 

IN FACT, can we all just agree that if your first response to this post is to write me to tell me anything about what I SHOULD OR SHOULD NOT BE DOING OR FEELING is probably one that you should keep to yourself.  I know, your aunt Minny or cousin Betty got pregnant when they just relaxed or when they adopted or all that.  Please.  I've heard enough of these stories to last a lifetime.  I know you mean well, or at least I'm hoping you mean well, but please respect our process and don't ask questions or tell me how I should be doing things.  Don't try to tell me how to do this or try to fix me.  In short, mind your own damn business.  Please respect our privacy. I put out as much here as I'm willing to put out for you.  That's it. 

I am someone who is no stranger to mental health facilities. I have spent time as a patient on psych wards. This hormone shit is fucking with me. It's fucking with my sanity. So, I am trying to get to more meetings. I am talking to people who have gone through this and when they say, "that's normal", I believe them.  I am not making a lot of plans right now.  Because chances are, I will break them.  I can barely get my ass out the door to work right now most days.  I am a crazy hormonal monster. My only saving grace is people telling me I don't "look" crazy. Jesus.  I put in the effort to look nice lately as that makes me feel a bit normal. 

 However, I take all this mental health shit very seriously.  Because my sobriety hinges on it. So, this is my gig in my head lately, "I feel like crap, I feel like crap, I suck, everything sucks, I have no motivation to do anything, I am just going to screw everything up anyway so what's the point, I am not healthy, I am spiraling into a pit of despair, cry cry cry, oh my that's pretty funny because you know what?  everything is actually really fucking great.  I am sober, I have a great husband and a great life and this shit that I'm feeling is just these stupid hormones that are going through my body that are new and different and I am still Katy and I am just fine.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH be mean to my husband and people around me and maybe smash things with my mind and the daggers in my eyeballs, but wait, calm down, everything ok.  EVERYTHING IS OK.  EVERYTHING IS OK". 

Rinse, repeat repeat repeat.

I keep going back to, this is not me, this is the hormones fucking with me.  I am Katy.  I am calm and serene and everything is just fine. Well, yesterday at Easter I actually told people in my family how I am.  And after the look of shock wore off their faces, they were nothing but loving.  I realized how I am usually the one who listens more than expresses how I am feeling, but right now, no holds barred.  I need to get through this shit.  And I need people to hear me and just listen to me and my crazy. 

This little ditty is with me today because I believe I can be crazed and still have my dignity and laughter at the same time.  And strength, well, I know I have that.  Fear?  Of course I have fear.  We all do.  But that doesn't mean we can't walk through it with grace and dignity.  Maybe a bit clumsily with a few trips along the way, but still, dignity.  Always dignity. 

I have quit drinking. I have quit smoking. I have quit anxiety medication. I have quit a lot of things. I have learned to eat well and be healthy. To eat REAL FOOD. I have learned to honor my body and my spirit, finally. But even now, my first instinct is usually something self destructive. I play that through and make a good choice MOST of the time today. FEELINGS ARE NOT FACTS. The facts are that I have everything I need today. And man, does that feel good.

My husband and I are good.  We are great and we have great support from family and friends and good medical people working with us.  We are lucky.  We are incredibly lucky that we even get to try this.  So, in my own way, making fun of myself and what a horrible monster I am by making jokes and doing funny postings is how I deal.  If I am laughing, I am not crying and THAT my friends are where my emotions are today.   Laughing or crying.  Not much in between.  So yeah, I am a terrible fucking emotional monster right now. Who is itching like a crazy person.  Who is driving her poor sweet husband crazy.  We want a baby.  We are trying this first.  Welcome to our journey.  You are with us or you are against us.  Hop off now, if you are against us please.  There are better places for you than with me. 

The rest of you, get ready.  This is going to be an excellent ride.  Now, come over here and scratch my back. 



Excuse Me, I'm Trying to Avoid You

We have a problem.  You are on the train or the bus in the morning going into work.  YOU SEE SOMEONE YOU KNOW.  Either you work with this person or you know them from a one night stand or they fired your ass for passing out drunk in the lobby of the Prudential Tower, or you know,  they are somebody's sister or something totally and ridiculously uncomfortable.  Whatever.  WHAT DO YOU DO?

It's a problem that many before and many after me will encounter and never quite know how to handle without being incredibly rude or incredibly passive aggressive. That's not in my wheelhouse, the passive aggressive thing, so incredibly rude is usually how it rears it's ugly head. I usually will say something like, "I'm sorry, but I really need to just chill for a while before going into work, do you mind if I read/listen to This American Life (people love it when you drop the NPR bomb. It makes you seem super smart and worldly, not stuffy at all or pretentious in any way).



If you don't feel comfortable throwing out the LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME CHILL FOR 5 FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE CROSSING THE THRESHOLD OF HELL, here's a helpful list to get you back to your headphones and that glorious Weird Al music you so enjoy at the butt crack of dawn to get you pumped up for the day.

1. Wear a disguise each and every day.  We all know about fake mustaches.  Even finger mustaches can work in a pinch, but by god do SOMETHING.  I like bonnets myself. 



See?  None of you would know this handsome devil is actually Mel Gibson in a clever disguise.


2. Bring a cat with you.  Preferably in a stroller, a la Sally Boy here,



People love cats.  I find.  Especially when on public transportation.  And they especially love when you do something creepy and weird like make them cradle your widdle biddy baby boy and swaddle him and ask if you want to kiss the teeny widdle baby.

3. Act like you are a blind person.  Seriously.  I've seen it work on my favorite show, Pretty Little Liars.  Jenna here, is blind or isn't really blind, from an explosion the gang rigged to go off, but they didn't really think Jenna would be in there, and NOW, they all have to pay for what they've done.  And make sure you use one of those sticks because that really makes people stay away from you.  I mean, who wants to help a blind person with anything?



Shhhhhhhhhh.  These dark glasses will make anyone rethink approaching you and entering into a conversation.  And, you can just glare at people with a scowl.

4. Fake an accent.  Act like the person trying to talk to you must have you confused with someone else.  Similar to point number 1. up there, the disguise, a fake accent not only shows how worldly you are, but it's effective in making people feel absolutely crazy. Which they love.  I find the more stereotypes you can employ, the better.  Give it a try.  And for God's sake, BE LOUD.  Everyone knows foreigners are loud. 

So you see, there are several different tactics you may employ in keeping your personal space on public transit.  And if all else, fails, just quietly start saying, "Oh no, oh god no, OH NO NO NO NO, NOT HERE.  NOT NOW!"  While starting to move around really uncomfortably and covering your bottom. 

You are welcome, everybody. 

On a Day Like Today

On a day like today, I feel F.I.N.E.

I feel anxious and sad. 
I feel nervous and scared. 
I feel excited and tentative. 
I feel hope. 
I feel gratitude. 

On a day like today I feel bitter and resentful. 
I feel angry. 
I feel lost. 
I feel overwhelmed. 

But the very best part of all that emotion is that I FEEL.  On a day like today I FEEL.  And it's all going to be OK. 

It's all going to work out in the end, if it hasn't all worked out, it isn't the end. 

I needed to write this little reminder today.  I needed to share it with people who understand.  Just because I feel all these awful and wonderful emotions doesn't mean everything sucks.  It doesn't.  We are a wide range of emotion.  We can feel so very sad and yet so hopeful at the same time. 

To FEEL is the greatest gift sobriety has given me.  And for that, it all goes back to gratitude.  Gratitude keeps me sober another day.  One day at a time. 

Beware the Taffy Pull on the Train

Train riding.  DH is sitting right next to me but THERE WILL BE BLOOD if I post any pictures of him, so just picture how cute he is sitting next to me, M'kay?

We live in Chicago.  We have a pretty great transit system here, The Chicago Transit Authority, which my smarty pants husband tells me what the original name of the band, Chicago, until people got all uppity with them about rights and such and they just went with "Chicago".

Anyway, we mostly take the Brown Line these days as we live on Sesame Street and the cute little train station is literally right across the street.  It zips us downtown in about 40 minutes if all goes smoothly. 

It's pretty cool that after 20 years of taking the CTA, I still get a kick outta going over the Chicago River when we get into the Loop.  I just do.  And at night too when it's all lit up?  Gorgeous. 

This is a status I posted yesterday, and inspired this post, as it's pretty incredible:

I just emailed DH that I left my bag with my lunch and Spinning clothes on the train and got all the way to the office before I realized. Ran back to the platform, not really sure why, but lo and behold, there was my bag just sitting on the platform. I'm sure someone was yelling at me about it when I walked off, but earphones, you know? Now I just will be paranoid that there's anthrax or gingivitis some shit in all my food. God Dammit.


Anyway, DH's response is "do I need to pin your keys to your coat when you leave the house?" I said, "No, I have my keys, asshole. LOVE YOU". THE END. *curtsies*

I'm still pretty amazed that happened.  And that my husband is so god damn funny. 

Now, there are some crazy things that have happened over the years in my experience on the train.  Back in the day, I would ride in blackouts and not remember a thing.  At 3am, by myself.  MIRACLES have happened in my life.  I know.

The rush hour commute is all just hipsters and yuppies and folks like us schlepping back and forth to work.  The real fun happens on nights and weekends.  That's the CTA money shot, if you will.  And I look forward to going out late or on off times, as it increases the chance for crazy.

The most concerning story I have is back when I lived in Oak Park, which is just west of the City. Morning commute, roughly 7:30am.  Packed train.  Me, sitting by window, guy sits next to me on the aisle.  With a newspaper.  I was reading a book, so I didn't pay any attention until the newspaper started making noises and started bobbing up and down rapidly.  Yes, this dude was having a taffy pull right next to me.  I looked up and saw horrified passengers looking at me.  I will never forget this woman's face and she mouthed, "GET UP".  And I did.  I got up and off the train and told an Officer what had happened, but the train was already off to the next stop. 

Needless to say, I don't trust any guy who reads a newspaper on the train now.  I GOT EYES ON YOU, BUB. 

I have a little friend who loves to ride the train because when she's sitting, she gets the perfect view of a standing gentleman's package.   Little perv.  Whatever floats your boat, right?

There are many reasons the city is great, and the CTA is just one.  You don't get the up close and personal crazy anywhere else.  Most days it's fine, but sometimes if you are lucky you get a truly heartwarming or gut wrenching story.  I actually like the crazy, I crave the crazy.  But I don't get it as much as I used to.  Maybe I'm not putting myself in dangerous situations as much as I used to and that kinda makes me feel old and sad.  But in another way, it makes me feel like I'm maturing and taking care of myself.  I used up about 8 lives when I was drinking, so I need to make this 9th one last. 

I will pass on the public taffy pulling, but I would take some crazy Jesus nonsense spouting now and then.  I have to seek out the crazy on the train these days.  But they still find me - on the street and in the alley - in my life. Sometimes in my mirror.  I attract the crazy.  I'm grateful for that.  Keeps me on my toes. 

Well, this is my stop.  Keep your pervy ball-balls to yourself Mister.  Or at least in your pants.  Nobody wants to see that.  Especially not at 7:30 in the god damned morning. 

It's the Young Jonathan and Katy Awkward Variety Show!

Here we go Divers!  Just for you an interview with Young Jonathan, my co-worker and pain in my ass.  But really just makes my days so much more fun.  I am so very awkward and bouncy and nodding like a total spaz and say "nice" 800 times.  Enjoy!

Salami Ruins the Mile High Club

This is a high class problem post, because I'm suffering from a parent hangover today.



Look at this nonsense. Don't they look like terrible awful parents? I AM KIDDING. God.
They are awesome. I just hit a wall. YESTERDAY.

I need to get this off my dirty heaving chest. And it's rough being middle class and white in America, yo.

From the second we walked on the plane to come home today it stank.  The smell was unmistakably salami.  Can someone tell me who thinks it's a great idea to bring pastrami on a floating trailer?  Everyone turns into hillbillies when flying.  The shoes are off the pants are unbuttoned and the stinks come out.  People are at their worst when flying.  It's true.  People are rude and abrasive and I blame the airlines and the lack of money and the poorly staffed and overbooked flights and basically everybody.  The staff are rude.  And forget about anything being sexy. The myth that the mile high club still accepts new members is gone.  Once you see that big fat guy wander back there and not return for 20 minutes, the allure is gone.  We are all together flying in a giant cavern of stink.


I leaned my head against the seat in front of me to sleep.  Now I'm terrified I got a staph infection from touching that thing.  The guy next to us was an absolute douche bag who ignored his wife and small child the entire flight instead opting to read his "tech" magazine, which I saw had a full page girlie pictorial and he paid way too much attention to that. 

It's a low point for humanity to fly.  I would rather take a submarine than get on an airplane.  I have a bad attitude about it, I will be the first to admit, but god dammit. It's just depressing. 

I'll spare you the long winded I miss the old days of glamour and flying, but simply put, I miss the event of flying.  I am convinced I should have been born in the 1950's as I am just kind of old fashioned and adhere somewhat to gender roles and go gaga for 1960's fashion.  You've seen my wedding pictures, right? 





I just married Dumpster Husband two years ago and I wouldn't change a damn thing about my retro get up. LOVE IT. All the way down to the Dorothy sparkle heels.

Also, I've been watching a lot of this:

So, I'm a bit influenced and glamorized by the media and my own dreamy brain, but damn.  What we have now is a big fucking greyhound bus in the sky.

I can't keep this up all on my own people.  Wear form fitting clothing with zippers that aren't falling off your ass and put some shoes on with heels.  It will take you one minute longer at the fucking security checks, but once in a while, just do it.  It will make you feel sexy, I promise.

Things I Love Thursday - Part 17

It's about damn time I post about Divers.  Divers are what I affectionately call friends of the blog and the Facebook page.  As in Dumpster Divers, we all clear?

Now, when I started the blog I had no idea about linking it to a facebook page - which was started roughly August 15th, now with 2,699 fans as of right this second -  but once a couple people (Namely Nikki at Moms who Drink and Swear) shared it with fb land it was apparent I had to do something otherwise all you weirdos would be looking for me on my personal page, and we can't have that now can we?

Truly?  I annoy the fuck out of some of my personal fb friends.  On the IWADB page I can play and play and you Divers actually appreciate it.  THAT is gold my friends.  You saw this post about being  Slightly Awkward, right? 

You see, this

is your humble narrator. 

And while this is cute in a "sit in your high chair and I will give you dry spaghetti to eat while I cut your hair kind of way" - thanks mom! It soon gave way to this:

Which is the 1980's 6th grade version of hell.  You need further proof? 

This was my posse:

Have you ever in your life seen such explosive awesomeness?  I know, you are all humbled right now because you thought you could out-awkward ME.  Think again bitches. 

Want more?  OK, one more. 

There.  8th grade majesticness right here.  Complete with the half heart of my bff necklace. 

To combat my awkwardness I write and I post funny and meaningful-to-me shit that you seem to respond to Dear Divers.  !Awkwardamo! (super hero name?) never got better, I just drank through it and now emerge on the other side more awkward than ever, I just look hotter so it doesn't show it as much. 

So, today, this very special TILT is for you, the Divers who make my days brighter and more fun.  I don't feel so awkward around you all from behind my computer.  Sincerely and from the bottom of my cold, dead black heart, I thank you for reading and for playing along when I'm funny and for lending an ear and a hearty "you can do it and we love you" when I'm vulnerable.  I've met some great people and admins and found many new blogs that keep me steadily laughing and finding new ways to be grateful at the same time.

Some are drunk, some are sober, some are mommies,  some are babies (stop yelling at me baby!), some are perverts, some are vegans, some are daddies, some are baconfuckers, some are just here for the eye candy and some are just here for the Funny Friday Fotos.  All valid and encouraged reasons to play along with me. 

I've had a few people who I've banned to the far corners of the earth, but for the most part you are all lovely and funny people who I've enjoyed getting to know immensely.  Thank you for a great 3 months so far Divers! 

And to those of you who come and read and share the blog, well you get a very special lick on the face.  I adore you loyal readers and commenters most of all.  It's the reason for the FB page and also, the reason it's so fun to write this blog.  I will keep doing it and hope you will keep reading and sharing.

And for fun I give you one of the best little scenes I've seen in a long time. Enjoy the funny!

Fat Coats and Bra Drawers

I have a ton of clothes.  I have way more than is needed by a normal human being.  I tend to use the "if you haven't worn it in a year, get rid of it" rule.  But when you are a fat girl who's lost a bunch of weight (several times) this gets tricky. 

And can we talk about bra drawers please? I'm not speaking about some weird hybrid of bras and pants now, that would really send me over the edge. What would that even look like? Let's google it and see......

This is the best the google gave me.  Which is simply a bra and drawers.  

Maybe there is an untapped market for Bra Drawers

(COPYWRITTED AND TRADEMAKEY by IWADB)

I want a hybrid.  Now I'm obsessed.  Fuck.  See what happens in my brain?

How about this?




Well damn, that just looks like a jumpsuit. And I know my drawing is incredibly lifelike (I didn't even go to art school!) but I don't know how to draw pants as I always just draw prairie dresses apparently.

 Can we get back to my original point here?  Geesh.  I have a ton of clothes.  The worst offenders are bras and coats right now.  I have 800 coats and 900 bras.  In all different shapes and sizes and I'm terrified to let any of them go.  My bra drawer, which looks like this:

 

is comprised of everything from tiny bras to super fat nursing bras. 

Yeah, let that sink in.  I don't have kids, yo.

When you lose weight what is the first thing to go?  Yeah.  So, I have yo-yoed between bra sizes for 20 years.  It's crazy town. 

And the fat coats are another whole thing because coats are a passion of mine.  I love Chicago winters and love coats.  I take great care in picking out the right coat for the right occassion and therefore have a ton.  Some are retro thrift store finds and some are heavy duty puffy cold as tits Chicago winter coats. And I'm scared to give any of them away.  But we live in a little place with not a lot of room. 

AND, what if I get fat again?  Hopefully I get pregnant fat and then what?  But I am trying my best to say I won't get fat fat again.  But who ever thinks they will, right?

You see my dilemma. 

There should be an island of misfit coats and bras where they can all just hang out and be sad and dejected but we reserve the right to call them back into service if the case arises.  I want to use it as motivation to NOT get fat again to give away all my fat shit.  But, what about the BABY?  GOD.

For now, I will do the easy fix and throw it all in the dungeon storage in the basement and when I dream I will dream of Fat Coats and Bra Drawers having a sort of sad party in which they recall days of fat boobs and asses wearing them to their owners horror. 

Sometimes very late at night, I will hear the nursing bra letting out a gentle cry,

"why oh why lady, why did you use me as a fat bra? Oh the horror.  You wouldn't know what to do with a nursing bra if it bit you on the tit."

And then I respond back in my dream, "quiet you fatty nursing bra, I'm thinner now and I don't need your squishy fatty bra comfort any longer."  And then I go put on my reasonably sized bra without super industrial cross your heart straps and feel happy with what I've accomplished.  And also, continue to wish I could really be wearing a nursing bra some day soon.

 

This is Awkward



I'm a bit much for folks. I'm like a dog. I get very very excited to see you.

 I have much more in common with dogs than I do with people.  I am an awkward person.  Surprise!  I am without the ability to act comfortably social.  I tend to either run away or go full force forward onto people with a wild eyed passion that I know can be off putting.  And yet, this is who I am.  I either don't do anything and act really painfully shy, or even worse, I start dry humping your leg with my enthusiasm, both are awkward. 

the comic that inspired this post.

I get too personal.  I ask too many questions.  I make people uncomfortable.  I genuinely want to know things about people and so I ask.  And I get myself in trouble sometimes.  But overall, WORTH IT.  And yet, knowing all this about myself, I don't really try to be "appropriate".  And actually I quite like being awkward.   There, I said it.

I would take being awkward over not giving a shit any day. But the problem really comes when I encounter another similarly awkward person.  We try to out-awkward each other.  Not on purpose, mind you, but it just happens naturally.  And when you witness an awkward stand off, it is about the most painful interaction you will ever see or hear.  There is much sighing and heaving and trying to fill the dead air with something, GOD, anything.  And it usually ends with someone saying, ".....so, yeah....." or something of the like because we can't seem to finish a sentence and just leave it at that.  Or, as I have done many times after filling a shopping cart full of stuff I can't make a decision on, I will just leave it and flee the scene.
Thank flying spaghetti monster for my job and AA and my family and real life friends and having to talk to people or else I would never get out from behind my computer.  I would be content to just form these relationships that can be thought out and planned, so much easier for a person who suffers from awkwardness.   I do much better from behind this wall, but the fear and awkwardness must be conquered!  Forcing myself to get out and talk to people *shudder*, is about the scariest thing for me to do.  And yet, I do it.  One day at a time, just like every other fucking thing.

WATCH THIS!  This is how I imagine I look pretty much all of the time in life.  Just this awkward weirdo pee pee move at all time. 
Link to Craig Ferguson Talking about Sex Education in Scotland
I know, I know.

And then there's the dancing, which doesn't happen very often and usually not when others are dancing, but just me by myself, looks almost identical to this:

I know, it's cliche and used a lot, but anyone who knows me would be hard pressed to disagree.

In closing, next time I come traipsing over and tackle you with licks and panting and tail wagging because of how much I adore you, don't be afraid, it's simply me being enthusiastic about you.  Or if I just act painfully shy, and  kind of ignore you?  It's because I don't really like you.  Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I like you that much more. 

Just give me a pat on the head and a kind word, and I will move along.  I will do my best not to drool on you. 

Jingle. at Best Friends DogTown.


 

Things I Would Rather Do Than Go to WalMart

Divers on the Facebook page are some funny motherfuckers. 

Last time DH and I went to Wal-Mart, and to be clear, I made him go after dinner one night to buy candles.  That's all I wanted.

But we walk in and it's night time and it's a horror show. 
There were creepy people in every single row and there was a bird in the card aisle. Now I know there are birds in all big spaces - airports, malls, even the Tower gets birds. But we don't usually see them. This little bird was just sitting in the middle of the aisle, clearly something wrong. I think he was as mortified at WalMart as most of us are. You know that ass sniffing face that cats make, like they are just so offended that cat ass would smell like that?


"hmmm, I wonder what this will smell like, I bet delightful"

 


"oh my fucking christ can you believe that shit hole smells like that???"



Bill O here came up when I was searching google for "ass sniffing cat face". 

 That above is what I imagine the inner dialogue of this little bird was.  Two nice WalMart employees came over and picked the bird up and took it outside.
The thing about WalMart that freaks me out the most, and there is a lot that freaks me out, and I am not going to feel bad about being snooty in this way.  You think about all the half dressed, poorly hygienated, stank ass, greasy mofos (adult types and childy types) in WalMart, and then think about them touching EVERY SINGLE THING IN THE STORE.  I just can't deal.  I am throwing up in my mouth just writing that.  I think of cheeto/chickenwing fingers and blue mouths and just get skeeved.

Now, I am not a germaphobe.  I believe in washing my hands, a lot, and I am not one for touching things if I don't have to, but there are sites like People of WalMart for a reason.  Because terrifying people go there.  I understand it's cheap, and you have families to feed and clothe.  I am not judging you for your purchasing choices, and I won't get into things being made in sweat shops and all that stuff. 

My brother has always been so skeeved out by second hand shops, he swears we get gingivitis just from walking into one of those places. But I'm MORE skeeved out by WalMart.  I shop at Village Thrift and the Salvation Army even on occasion.  I am no stranger to used, old stuff.  But much of that is good decent stuff rather than shoes for a $1 that have barbecue sauce all over them before they even leave the store. 

There's always big fighting over whether there should be a big box store in the city, and I know, people need jobs.  I get it.  But what is it about WalMart that more so than any other store, brings out the cray cray?

In closing and before y'all yell at me about being uppity about the kinds of folks who frequent every single WalMart on the planet, I would just like to say it take A LOT to freak me out.  I accept all kinds and am quick to defend those who usually don't have a defendant.  Because I have been there.  We good?  So knock that shit talk off right now.  Read my other posts about being a homeless alcoholic and then call me snotty. 

I just feel like I would rather pay to go to a haunted house this time of year than to go get the everloving shits scared outta me by some WalMartians.  For serious.