Guest Post - Wench is on the Wire

another bloggy buddy coming to the rescue. Love.

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Hello there diva worshippers. Most people call me wench, and I thought I'd give la diva a day's grace to meditate on the oneness of the universe ;) I'm sure that many of us are all to aware of the difficulties with weight - whether we are trying to lose it or gain it, it always seems to be more or less than we wish it would be. For myself I have spent uncounted hours counting carbs, fats, weighing food, reading self help guides, doing cleanses, avoiding particular food groups and going to meetings where I never felt anything but demeaned. I've been overweight since after my first child with a span of about 6 years in my late 20s early 30s where I was all hotness which then evaporated into a fast 40 pounds in one year. In the following 15 years I only found myself winning the battle of the bulge for about 6 months and then I put my back out and c'est la vie. Those fat molecules were attracted to me like iron filings on a super magnetized horseshoe iron. It seemed like overnight and poof! It was back to humongous once again.

Having failed so miserably so many times - or been successful and then allwing the extra flesh to pad my curvy bits I am looking for the CAUSE of the extra tonnage. It's not sugar, I eat very little white - pasta rice potatoes bread. I do love the gravy and white sauce and curry though. Lots of salad and very little process food. Love my beer. However, I determined in August that my biggest hurdle was my own mindset.

I eat for comfort, to celebrate, socially, for the flavour, when I'm upset or angry... I have learned to ignore the extra pounds attaching themselves to my ass - until I need to by new pants and then I rationalize it as "They" are making the sizes smaller. Which they do, but not that quickly. I stay large because then no one WILL ask me out and I won't have to deal with all that heart risk once again - other women don't consider me a threat and men consider me as a friend - only. People like me this way ... you see where I'm going with this.

Fat = Safe.

Except for the possibilities of heart disease and cholesterol problems, blood pressure and arthritis. I'm a type 2 diabetic (with it very good control so not to worry) but that extra weight just means that I'm killing myself slowly. Hmmmm - was that what my subconscious was doing?

So for 5 and a half weeks I have been on a 1500 calorie a day diet - and I'm winning. Yes it's tough BUT I eat 4 or 5 times a day - small meals - yogurt, lots of veggies reduced portions of meat and fat - no junk food/fast food, but high fibre and legumes and soup. It's a relatively varied diet with a limit of 1 cup of food per meal except fresh veggies - those I allow myself to my heart's content. Lots of tomatoes and red peppers, nuts and dried fruit in small quantities and if I get a real chocolate craving I buy myself one of those single serving 80% cocoa chocolate squares.

And every 2 weeks I get a free day.

I got on the scale today and was surprised to see less of myself YAY!!!!  3 pounds in the last week and 34 since I started the process in August. I still don't like what my body looks like but I will someday.

Cheers

wench

Guest Post - Dying Tonight

So, a little while ago i happily stumbled over AbodeOneThree, where Matthew was discussing The Age of Caffeinated Enlightenment and i thought - "now THAT'S something i can get behind", so i added him to my reader and went on my way. Fast forward a few weeks and here we are! What i'm saying is... we're brand new bloggy friends! Brand Spankin! So when he so generously offered to allow me to repost something from his blog, i was touched. He is now ranked number one in my list of sexy blogger men. :D
To quote his email to me recently: "This is a friendly world we all occupy, isn't it?"
indeed, Matthew, Thanks!!

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There have been a few times in my life when I thought I was about to die. I remember the first very well, although I admit to being a little sketchy on the exact date. I was young, probably around eight or nine, and we were living in a pebble-dashed terraced house in Staple Hill, a suburb of Bristol on the South West coast of the UK. It was the four of us back then; my mother, father, brother and I. We would have had a dog, too - probably our second dog Freya, she of the pie-eating and general food stealing fame. This was before the family move to Reading that followed a few years later. Back then, we lived in Bristol and Reading was what you did with a book in your hand.

That year, be it 1979 or 1980, my family took it in turns to contract flu. By that, I don't mean a heavy cold - I mean bona fide influenza. To date, I have never been as sick as I was back then and these days when I'm off work and return to fill out a sickness absence form, I always write 'heavy cold' in the description box. Once you've had flu, you don't call anything else by the name. I remember feeling really, really sick for the first time in my short life. I don't remember how long I coughed for, how long I stayed in bed for or how high my temperature got, but I do remember the day that my chest became so congested with phlegm that breathing became difficult. The more I tried to breathe, the more crap I sucked deeper into my chest and the harder breathing became. I got very, very scared and remember crying and shouting repeatedly that I was dying. In hindsight, I was making a pretty good racket so I doubt that lack of oxygen was really going to do for me as long as I could protest that vociferously but anyway, the point is that the fear was real. I remember it vividly and I sense I always will. I honestly thought I was going to die, right there and then.

Fast forward just over 20 years and 100 miles west. I don't know the exact date but I do know this isn't how it should be. It's a work night, it's late and I'm sitting on a wooden stool in the kitchen of my first floor flat in North London. I've lived here for a while now and I like it. My first marriage has gone south and, like some people do, I've jumped headlong into a new relationship and moved in with the girl. It's different, exciting. The sex is good (for now, anyway). There's only one slight problem - the girl I live with is standing in front of me with a kitchen knife against my throat.

How this came about, god only knows. I remember arguing with her, although not what that argument was about. It could have been something as banal as her being unable to find the television remote and then getting more and more angry, accusing me of not looking hard enough to help her and then of deliberately hiding it to cause her grief. Me being me, my response wouldn't have been overly supportive by that stage. Maybe that's how I got here - or maybe I'd got some freshly washed sheets dirty by accident and the argument had spiralled from that. Basically I should have admitted to something and apologised for everything a good ten minutes ago, if not sooner. Now, sitting on that stool at one o'clock in the morning, looking into a face that I don't really recognise these days, I wonder if this is the moment that I leave this world. Common sense would say not but let's face it, common sense doesn't put someone who claims to love you in a position where they have a large knife pointed in your direction. Time slows, moments are drawn out and you become aware of everything around you - almost as if you're preparing to take in one last gulp of life before the lights go out.

I find myself wondering how it came to this but, more importantly, how I'm going to get out of this. I talk, I admit to things I didn't do, intentions I never had and I promise to be a better person. Anything to get me off this chair. Eventually it works. I persuade her to calm down, put the knife away. I talk her back to bed and tell her that I'm just going out for a walk - to clear my head. I click the door shut behind me and tread quietly down the old wooden steps, never actually calm until I'm through the big front door and out on the street. I walk through North London, stopping at the all-night coffee shops run by the Algerians and the Moroccans. I order thick black coffee and smoke cigarettes with the locals. Then I do the same again. After all, it's not like I was going to be able to sleep anyway. Inevitably, hours later, I find myself walking back to the flat. Despite the area's reputation, I never feel in danger out on the streets of North London when I'm walking and it's late. I feel the wind and hear the traffic and smell the exhaust on the air and I wonder if I've ever felt more alive. I also wonder how many more times this will happen before I finally leave. Just the once, as it turns out.

Now hit the fast forward button again and come up to the present, to a well-to-do house in Sydney's affluent Northern Beaches. We have travelled down for the weekend to see family on Sunday but made the journey late on Friday night so that my wife and her mother could shop for cheap stock at Manly Markets on Saturday morning. I am distinctly unwell. My breathing's fine, my temperature's normal and no psycho ex is holding a knife to my throat, but I find myself nauseous, with absolutely no appetite and unable to keep any food down - or in - for prolonged periods. Maybe I should have stayed in bed at our host's place but I tend not to do bed-rest so instead I'm out at the markets with my wife, her son and her mother. Later after the markets are done, we send her mother home in a taxi and the three of us sit on Manly Beach to have lunch. It's a beautiful day, warm and filled with sun. We buy a large portion of hot, salted chips and I eat just five of those chips, only because I feel I should try and keep my strength up rather than through any real hunger or desire. Later we walk to the local gallery and I am grateful that there are public toilets nearby for me to throw up in. We walk around the coast to a lovely aquatic reserve cove and paddle in the crisp, cold surf - but my highlight is finding the one remaining toilet that isn't occupied on the two occasions I need it at short notice. That night at dinner I order a small bowl of soup; again to try and keep my strength up rather than because I'm hungry. The soup's a success - it stays down for around 2 hours before reappearing. It's at that stage I decide to go to bed and try to sleep.

My night is disturbed and my dreams are strange. I tell myself that this is just temporary, that normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Deep down though, I'm wondering if this is something more serious. Maybe this is the start of something major and maybe I'll never be the same again. Maybe it's the start of bowel cancer, stomach cancer or something else entirely. Deep down I know it's just a bug but it's laid me low and ravaged me, more than any illness has managed since I was a young boy living in a pebble dashed terraced house. I find myself wondering if this is how I'll die - not suddenly through asphyxiation or stabbing but slowly, painfully and without dignity, in pools of my own waste. It's a long night and I'm glad when it's over and Sunday's upon us. I'm even more pleased when Sunday sees me able to keep down fluids and small portions of food. Maybe I needn't write my epitaph just yet.

The meeting with the family takes place in Sydney's Botanical Gardens. We have lunch together, I manage to eat and I am able to show some flashes of my usual self. My wife drives the three of us home just after 5pm. Although I know she doesn't like doing the drive from Sydney to home at night, she refuses my offer to share the driving and I love her all the more for that.

Monday comes and the bug draws its final breaths before expiring just after midday. I play it safe, calling in sick to allow myself time to recover for sure. That gives me an extra day of recuperation and that's fine with me as despite having packed so much into the weekend, I feel as though I was cheated out of a significant part of it. I cook spaghetti for dinner that night. Much like the North London air in the early hours of a morning all those years ago, it tastes sweeter than it has any right to.

Guest Post - a la Witchypoo

And now a post by the Lovely Witchypoo who so wonderfully volunteered to do a guest spot for me. I less than three her.

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My twenty six year old son still lives with me. I don't have a real problem with that, although I fear going into his room. He has accumulated so much stuff that there isn't room for another thing.

Yet? He had over $500 discretionary income last week, and spent it in two days. I get that. He never really had any amount of money before to spend exactly how he wanted to, and to buy the things that he really wanted. Also? He enjoys the activity of shopping.

He showed me his purchases, after much coaxing, because really, showing them to people is part of the fun of shopping, isn't it?

Maybe not so much in his case.

He shopped for his alter ego. The girl. He bought two pairs of shoes (cuter shoes than I have had), two or three purses, make-up, two watches, and a fancy deodorant that cost over $20.

I thought he would buy a new camera, or crap for his computer. When I think of it, why should he? That's the kind of crap I give him for his birthday. I never buy him girly things. Not that I have a problem with that. It's just that nobody else can really buy that shit for me, so why do I think I can for him?

Seriously, though. If he has another small things shopping spree, I fear his room will burst at the seams and disgorge all of its contents into the hall.

I live in fear.

Guest Blog - an interview....

Dear Friendternets,

When i put out my call to arms, as it were, asking for you - the reader - to help me out in my tough time, i have to admit that i was most surprised and delighted when someone so very close to my heart, and near and dear to me offered to write a guest post. In fact, it would be fair to say, even, that i was flabbergasted. Never, in a million years would i have guessed that he would offer, but ladies and gentlemen... the one and only B-rad offered. i KNOW! can you BELIEVE IT!!

and not only that, but it's a Two Parter!

The most gorgeous and talented Saviabella is in on the game. She's come up with ten questions for my husband, and then he asked *her* ten questions...

So, without further ado: i give you

"Interview with a B-rad"

Savia: When did you know that Laura was the gal for you? How did you know you wanted to spend your life with her?

B-rad: Well, as Im sure all you M Diva followers are aware, it all started back in gr. 9. She walked into the classroom as the new girl, cute face, nervous smile, extra high jeans, and an amazing set of mammalian protruberances.

I knew she was my one and only when I realized that there was no woman comparable to her. Living without her would mean becoming a hopeless, deranged lunatic, moving from female to female in search of that certain something I knew I would never find in another.

Savia: Have you ever had any weird encounters with people who knew you from Laura's blog but you had never met in real life (like how I friended you on Facebook even though you had no idea who I was...)?

B-rad: Weird encounters? Hmmm...you, Savia, have definitely been the weirdest encounter for sure. Try accepting a FB marriage request from some crazy blogger chick that is in lust with your actual existing wife. In the end it all turned out for the best, cuz you're hot, and I dig ya ;)

Also, Im sure you read the post about meeting, uhh...Marshmallow something (you can link to that post please) at our neighbours. That was a lil' odd. She knows some of our secrets and stuff. Kinda felt embarassed a little

Savia: What do you think of the whole blog world and people knowing about your life? Are you a private person or do you let it all hang out (tee hee)?

B-rad: Blogging, in my opinion and preference, is an anonymity thing. You know, mostly writing about stuff you cant talk to friends or family about. All your secrets revealed, but not being judged by those close to you as a weird messed up fool. On the other side of the coin, thats also the con of blogging. Escape from reality. It can cause a bit of a problem with some people, just being an online personality, you know? Hope Im not offending some bloggers out there.

I am a fairly private person, so blogging is really not my thing. Also I am a really slow typer, as you know, so writing a blog post is a long process. Also, I am very careful and m-e-t-i-c-u-l-o-u-s about the words I choose, and that takes a long time as well.

In regards to letting it all hang out-You're gonna have to find out for yourself sometime.

Savia: What's it like being a new daddy-o? How has it changed your life? Does having more penises in the house give you a power advantage over Laura?

B-rad: New dadhood is pretty sweet. Never thought I would ever love another male of our species this much.

I now turn to a mess in movies where there is any kind of father-son issue or death. Life has also changed in many, many, many other ways too numerous to count. I guess the biggest is not being able to just pick up and leave for anywhere-movies, pub, etc...

The penis thing factors not. At least not yet. Home movie night will be interesting later on.

Savia: This probably doesn't even need to be a question, but I'm going to ask it anyway - Laura's pretty hot in bed, isn't she?

B-rad: In short, yes. And I know you're looking for details here, but you now know my policy on privacy. Besides, I dont want her readers to think Im a weird messed up fool. If you want a personal account of certain details, I could get ya pretty revved up.

Savia: I have it on good authority that you're a sexy awesome musician. What's your favourite music to play, listen to, see live?

B-rad: Shit, I could write a lot on this subject but I wont. Sorry.
Fave to play-original stuff mostly, Tool, Beatles...
listen to-Tool, Beatles...
See live-Tool, Beatles(I swear in another life I saw them at least once)

Savia: What do you want to be when you grow up?

B-rad: I always answer this question by saying "Something to do with music" but, maybe I just need to grow up and actually figure that out.

Savia: What do you love most about Laura?

B-rad: Trick question-so I'll answer it as truthfully and hilarious as I know how.

Boobies, jugs, tits, gazongas, etc...

Savia: How often am I in your spank bank?

B-rad: Well, there was that one time... and the time after that... and one or two times after that... good times, thank you very much.

Savia: Tell me something I don't know.

B-rad: Answering all these questions took the better part of an hour, thats why I dont have the time to blog. Bingo Bango! Also I just went back and edited for another five minutes. Like I said m-e-t-i-c-u-l-o-u-s.

Cheers,
B-Rad. Formerly known as Gtr Boi.

All done here? Wasn't he awesome? Why not give him some love in the comments
- and then go and see part two over at Savia's blog!!

Diva's 10 Songs

Anyone interested in gracing my blog presence with a guest post, please leave me a note in the comments

Blog Fodder Question:
Define your musical tastes in 10 songs

1. Sober - Tool
2. Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra
3. Living Room - Tegan & Sara
4. Virtual Insanity - Jamiroquai
5. Music of the Night - Phantom of the Opera
6. Feeling Good - Michael Buble, Nina Simone, or Muse
7. Suddenly Seymour - Little Shop of Horrors
8. Pagan Poetry - Bjork
9. Snuff - Slipknot
10. Don't Stop Believing - Journey

How about you?

untitled

today i found myself standing in the aisle at the grocery store, spaced out for who knows how long... people passing by me... trying desperately to remember why i was there.... holding the tears in.... thinking to myself:

"It can't be normal to feel like this"

Putting this out there...

and asking for a little help....

...because that's what bloggies do....

There are things happening right now. Oh, life and circumstances and things and i'm doing my best to deal with them as they come. Unfortunately, something has got to give, and right now my blog is being neglected - AS MUCH AS I DON'T WANT IT TO BE....

So, i have a proposal...

Is there anyone out there in blog land interested in gracing my blog with a guest post!? If so, please email me or leave me a comment letting me know.

Really, in my opinion - Guest posts are win/win. You bring your hot selves to my place, and please the crowds... you may bring some of your readers along for the ride... and maybe take some of mine back with you!?

So, if anyone is willing to give a little of themselves, i'd appreciate it.

Much love and kisses
Laura

HOLY SHIZNIT!

today is my seventh - YES SEVENTH - year blogging... can you believe that?
i can't. it seems like only yesterday i was posting on Diaryland to an audience of 2. my how times have changed.

SO, i'd like to thank you, the readers, for giving me a reason to keep coming back.
it's been real!

it hurts just watching...oh the memories

if you've got ten minutes.... ladies... MEN... watch this...



thanks savia

new inkadinkadoo!

On Friday B-rad and i celebrated our five year anniversary by getting inked!
(there's the design...)
We decided to chose a tattoo that had significance to us, but that we could each personalize in our own ways. So, while my tattoo is very similar to B-rad's, it's still very much my own.

So, here i am on the hot seat. I look very calm and collected - but take a look at the death grip i have on my own hand. It always makes me laugh when people see a new tattoo
because inevitably the first thing they ask is:
Did it hurt?

yes. tattoo's hurt.

"Don't take a picture of my cleavage!"

Finished!

and now the healing process begins....

Thanksgiving Y'all 50+1 things to be thankful for!

Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends!

Things i am thankful for, in no particular order:
1. naptime
2. slippers
3. chewie's fascination with pumpkins
4. b-rad, the magnificent!
5. bacon
6. rockn'roll
7. accents
8. healthy family
9. tattoos!!
10. watching Chewie learn, he's such a sponge right now
11. toddler waddles
12. good friends
13. delicious food
14. PUMPKIN PIE
15. scarves
16. new friends
17. board games
18. laughter
19. music that gives me goosebumps
20. The Winner Takes it All - by Abba... gets me every time
21. hope
22. chewie's squishy face
23. thoughts of the future
24. my parents
25. my inlaws
26. beer... did i say beer already?
27. new glasses!!
28. the fall air
29. a workplace that isn't really as bad as i make it seem
30. adaptability
31. creative people in my life who inspire me
32. creative people who are NOT in my life, but still effect me
33. stretching
34. a happy happy boy
35. imagination
36. holding on to the dream
37. talent
38. innovation
39. persistance
40. hot coffee
41. hot sex.
42. hot sex.
43. hot sex.
44. hot sex.
45. alone time
46. hot sex.
47. potty humour
48. a spouse who totally gets me
49. five amazing years of wedded bliss
50. eleven years with the most amazing man.
51. hot sex.

Playboy Blurb

**SERIOUSLY** if anyone wants to revamp my blog... let me know... it's driving me batty...

and now for your regularly scheduled programming:

I might be buying next months issue of Playboy... if only to read the interview with Marge Simpson... Look, i only read the magazines for the articles!! i swear!

According to NYDailyNews.com, Marge is baring all for a 3 page pictoral/interview - something that horny fanboys have been dreaming about for 20 odd years. Yes, Marge, Take it all off!!

Regurgitation

My life has taken me by the cajones lately - too much stuff going on at work and at home... i want to blog, but i have precious little time to do it... for example, my dear sweet husband is trying to sleep next to me....click click click goes my keyboard. sorry, b-rad.

I'm addicted to Glee. i love it, i wish i would have had a show choir in my high school instead of the lame choir we had. but then, i'm a diva... so.... i guess it makes sense that i love this show.

it's got me wishing i had time/energy/etc to do more singing - other than to Chewie at bedtime and the odd song in the car (but i've been listening to the CBC so i don't know the songs well enough to sing along)....

anyway, i need to update or the blogher police will come to my home and bitch slap me.

and i posted this a long time ago, but i have new readers since then (hello!)

So - without further ado - i give you...me.
singing two songs.

1. Best Friend by Queen - the deal with this is, a few years ago my brothers and made a CD for my mom and dad's 30th anniversary with songs from the seventies... this was my track - and the kicker is, it's not a karaoke track, it's all me. B-rad and i painstakingly figured out all the backing tracks and recorded them one by one so i could sing with a choir of Laura's. pretty sweet. That's b-rad on the guitar...

2. Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane - yes, that is me. No, that is not our band. this time it is a karaoke track, cuz we were running out of time and had it on hand.

Enjoy

leave me some love, cuz i get all shy and self conscious and stuff.

cheers.

For serious now.

Kevin of Always Home and Uncool has asked bloggers to post the text below, and i immediately wanted to use my blog for good today. He is raising awareness of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. This day also happens to be his wife's birthday. And while this post will surely raise awareness and money, it is also his birthday gift to his wife... so that no other mother has to suffer through the fear and uncertainty of a child stricken with this disease.



Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to

www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever

or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.

(Comments off)

Door To Door and all the RED FLAGS Laura Missed

Okay, so here's the deal...

Last week, someone called my house and in a heavy HEAVY accent (french, i think) started asking me questions... before i had fully understood what was going on, i was answering them because, well, she kept on asking.

I have been known to answer the odd phone in survey, if i'm not busy.
my first tip off should have been when she didn't ask if now was a good time.
She just went barreling into her shpiel... RED FLAG NUMBER ONE!!!

Whatever, the survey didn't take very long and she asked questions like: Does anyone you know have asthma or allergies? Does anyone in your home smoke? do you have carpets... RED FLAG NUMBER TWO!!!!

This was last week.

Last night after a particularly frustrating trip of running errands to which 3 out of 5 places we went were closed - in the rain - with Chewie in tow... i was finishing up with Chewie in the bath when the phone rang. Now, B-rad has been suffering from a killer headache all day, so when i came up the stairs he was still on the phone with that look of: "I'm concentrating really hard cuz i don't know what this person is talking about"... as i wrestled our little dude into his jammies B-rad finally said: "I'll let my wife answer" and handed the phone to me...

It was the same Heavily accented woman, who i could hardly understand because not only was she talking super fast, it sounded like she had marbles in her mouth and was chewing on cotton.

I finally made out that because i had answered that survey my number had been selected for a free prize! RED FLAG NUMBER THREE!!! and would i like the Tupperwaresque food containers, or a hotel voucher for 2 nights stay all around North America.

See, B-rad and i have been contemplating Vegas...

Meanwhile, Chewie is screaming bloody murder - i said numerous times: "I'm trying to put my son to bed" to which she would say: "Yes, ma'am, i understand... so can i send someone by to drop off your prize? would 8:30 or 8:45 be better for you?"

RED FLAG NUMBER FOUR!!

"I'm sorry, what? I can't hear you. I'm trying to put my son to bed!!" Oh, Laura, why didn't you just hang up the phone!?

"Yes, ma'am, i understand that. So would 8:30 or 8:45 work better for you?"
OH MY GOD!

"Tonight?"
"yes, ma'am."

GRRRRRRRR

"Okay, fine. 8:30."

MISTAKE!!!!

i think they hire heavily accented people on purpose for these types of things, because by the time i had deciphered what the hell she was talking about, i had agreed to let some jerk off into my home....sigh.

I finally got Chewie to bed, B-rad was laying down in the bedroom watching TV, his head STILL pounding...

the doorbell rings at 8:15.

FIRST OF ALL.... DO NOT RING MY GODDAMNED DOORBELL AFTER 7:30!! That is, unless YOU want to put Chewie back to bed.

i open the door and there's this scrawny little guy carrying big boxes, and i'm thinking...that doesn't look like a hotel voucher...

"Hi," he says, "we have an appointment?"

"uhm, i guess so."

So he comes in and takes off his shoes, i vaguely remember accent-lady saying something about a no obligation to buy quick demonstration about air filters and i say: "It's just going to be me, my husband's not feeling well."

and he says that he can't do the presentation unless my husband is present...

...what?...

Laura: "What do you mean you can't do the presentation without him?"
Jerkoff: "Well, we can't do the presentation because he'd need to be here because you can't make any purchasing decisions without him."
L: "Whoah. Excuse me? you're saying i can't make any decisions without my husband present? you are walking on VERY thin ice here." [laura shoots the evil nasties his way]
J: [immediate backtracking] "No, i mean you wouldn't make such a big purchasing decision without discussing it with him, right?...but seeing as he's actually here in the house, it should be okay."

OHMYGOD! RED FUCKING FLAGS!!! ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!!

So, the even longer story short - the "quick air filters demonstration" lasted one and a half hours.

Oooh, the Defender! Look at it's ROUND glory!!
Don't you want to spend your money on me?
and pay $150 a year to have the filter replaced by
ONLY Health-Mor or void your warranty?
The only thing i could think of that this would be good for would be for cleaning the air
after a little 'party' if you know what i mean....

The jist of the sales pitch, here's this air purification system (which actually looked kinda cool) and here's this vacuum cleaner.... let me vacuum your floor and show you how disgusting you are and how you and your family are living in squalor.

First of all the Filter Queen vacuum that he was selling.... we had one. I HATED it, i hated everything about it. I hated the way i moved, i hated the filtering system, i hated the canister... so that's why we bought a Dyson - which i Looooove.... if i could make mad passionate love to vacuum, that would be the one... sigh...

So, when he told the dude about how i used to have a FiterQueen, hated it, and was now dry humping my Dyson, he knew he wasn't making that sale, but pitched it anyway...

I am the Filter Queen of the Damned!!! You will bow to me
or i will cut off your head
and then offer you a useless Hotel Voucher that must be activated within
FIFTEEN DAYS

"The FilterQueen," (which i don't want) "can be yours for the low low price of $4,000!! But don't worry, if $4,000 is not in your budget today, we can finance it for you," (and also charge you an arm and a leg and your sleeping babe while we're at it)..."at a level to fit any budget."

"No"

"Okay, what about this air filter? for $1,299? you can finance it no money down and $33/month!"

"No."

"What would it take to get you to buy one of these filters?"

"Give it to me for free and i'll take it off your hands"

"What about if i give it to you for free...for three months?"

"No."

at this point, it's 9:45 and i am tired and i just want this guy out of my house, so i tell him "We're really not interested, i'm happy with my vacuum and there's no way in hell i'm paying $1299 for an air purifier."

He finally leaves and i get a chance to look at the voucher and laugh at all the restrictions and hoops that one would have to jump through to actually USE said voucher.... le sigh.

I did contemplate sending him to my friend Jaimie's house, she's a nurse and works for the Lung Association, i have a feeling she'd chew him up and spit him out when he says that the air in your home is the 4th hazardous thing you can ever breathe in... tobacco smoke being #10 and second hand smoke being #7....

But i felt for the guy. He'd only been selling for 3 weeks and had 2 year old twin girls at home. Still. Get the fuck out of my house. y'know?!?

So, anyway, hindsight being what it is, i had AMPLE opportunities to get out, but i never saw the flags!

October - A Month of Goals

Dear Internets.

In an effort to save my pocketbook, and also my waistline - i have a few lofty totally DO-ABLE goals for the month of October... and really, what good is a goal if you don't tell anyone? I need accountability!

So i'm telling you. That's right, YOU! Someone needs to know, so i can be bitch slapped lovingly encouraged into staying on track... Are you with me? excellent.

1. NO SPENDING MONEY ON CRAFT SUPPLIES! - boo hoo, i can feel the tears already. This is a biggie pour moi. Oh man. Okay... breathe. For the ENTIRE MONTH, (sob sob) i will not spend any money on Craft supplies. No papers, stickers, yarn, needles, nothing! If i don't already have it in my possession, it doesn't happen. Not for this month.

2. Walk or Run 30 minutes...5 Days as Week! (The ultimate goal being every day, but i can live with 5/7) - oh lordy. This is totally doable, but i just love being lazy!! So... for this month... i will run or walk for 30 minutes a day for five out of seven days. I have a treadmill at home for inclement weather, but other than that - i work in an office that is 2 blocks away from the river. I should take advantage of it, plus it will get me out of my office chair! Yay me... sigh. PLUS, i have to make use of the iPod shuffle and the running watch.

3. No eating out for 6 days of the week - I was going to make Sunday my free day, but if i say only one day a week, there's a little wiggle room for going out for coffee with friends. And to be fair to my main man B-rad, this will not apply to any work lunches that are paid for by the office...

4. Drink less Coffee, Drink More Water - really this just makes good sense. I drink far too much coffee.... so i'm limiting myself to two a day. (Down from 5-6?) and encouraging myself to drink MORE water!!

Okay, so lets just start with these three! Wish me luck.... i'm going to need it.