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I Don’t Have The HGTV Gene

Just like I am about pumpkin spice which makes me feel like a hooker without clients, HGTV also leaves me feeling empty.

I’ve accepted that I don’t have the HGTV gene, unlike many others. I do love to watch House Hunters International sometimes so I can see a mime and a circus juggler moving to Paris on a 1.5 million dollar budget. Where the hell do they get that kind of money?!

My husband foams at the mouth for shows like Fixer Upper and The Property Brothers. I, instead, get put to sleep. HGTV people seem to be everywhere, spreading their love of the color grey and finding the hidden potential of a crack house.

My “safe” channel used to be the Food Network. The “safe” channel is what I quickly put on when my 8 year-old enters the room. Currently, though, that channel is off limits for me because of the torture of seeing all the food I’m not allowed to eat right now. So, I’ve made HGTV the “safe” channel. Except, I had it on the other day, expecting the hummingbird to walk in anytime and I actually started nodding off as I was petting my dog.

I also see these HGTV people all over magazines and I think “Well, fuck. Zzzzzzz”. I want real celeb gossip. Like what Kate Winslet is up to or seeing Mark Ruffalo or Clive Owen as the Sexiest Man Alive. Somebody make that happen!

It must be the super mellow, monotone voices everybody uses on all the shows that HGTV airs. Actually it reminds me of the way my father-in-law speaks which nearly drives me into a coma.

They need a few shows with hosts like Sam Kinison to wake people up.

Sam: “I was driving the other day and a car pulled out in front of me and AAAAAHHH! AAAHHHH!”

If you don’t know who Sam Kinison is (I should say was since he passed away years ago), that probably doesn’t make much sense.

But picture this on HGTV:

Realtor: “We have an apartment in the middle of Paris with hardwood floors, it’s on the second floor, and it’s $100 dollars under budget”.

Prospective buyer: “I don’t know. That’s two flights of stairs. Ugh! And, that wall in the second bedroom is green. GREEN! Can you believe it? How can I make this a home with a second bedroom that’s painted green. I mean, yuck. I don’t want to pay $100 dollars under my budget for a place with a green wall. I’m going to take the place that’s twenty minutes outside of the city I want to live in and that’s $300 dollars over budget.”

Realtor: “Yeah, um, you know you can simply paint the green walls to a color that you would prefer”.

Prospective buyer: “Ewww, I don’t know. That’s a lot of work for a place that’s under budget and in the city of Paris”.

Realtor: “Okay, so, I’m not being paid enough to deal with dumbasses like you.

AAAHH! AAAHHH!”

*Back To Berlin

Comments { 5 }

Heart Beep

When my daughter was younger, she would say heart beep instead of heart beat. She said it quite a bit after she received a doctor’s kit for Christmas one year. Every time she said heart beep, I thought it was beyond cute. Those are the times when I actually miss the toddler years.

I’ve been in medical hell for almost 2 years now. My body decided to freak me out even further by getting pneumonia, ending up in the ER two days later because I couldn’t catch my breath, landing in the ICU for a few days, and spending another 3 days in the hospital.

Instead of what we thought was an asthma attack ended up being fluid in my lungs, which also affected my heart. I was born with a congenital heart defect so I’ve always had to have yearly check-ups with a cardiologist. I had open heart surgery when I was five and since then, I’ve been good to go.

Until now.

Basically, the doctors I’ve been seeing say a lot about what could be causing the issue but I’m gonna go with my instinct and say I don’t think they know what’s going on for sure. I’m being referred to two physicians in the “city”. Since I’ve been out of the hospital, I have been terrified to do almost anything because I worry that I’m going to overdue it and then drop dead.

I feel so old right now.

So, that surgery I was going to be having at the end of the month to remove salivary stones has been put on pause.

This whole thing sucks. I worry I’m going to be dead in a year thanks to my ever-present anxiety and depression. And that, my friends, is what I’ve been doing for the month of November.

I will now shut it with all these medical problems or I’m going to have to change my blog to This Is Senior Citizenhood.

Dear, 2018.

You’ve gotta up your game and do A LOT better!

*No Roots

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A Woman’s Work Is Never Done

While my mom was visiting for the summer, I did plenty of bitching and whining to her about my husband. He truly is a great guy who happens to get on my fucking nerves, just as I’m sure he has plenty of moments where he wants to strangle me.

A huge thing in our house is that we can NEVER keep it clean. We’ll, I can but as soon as my kid and husband come home, stuff is flung all over the place.

It’s particularly frustrating on the weekends because my husband will want to grill or do some cooking which I very much welcome so I’m all for it.

Except…

He makes the biggest fucking mess in the world. It’s overwhelming and I’m always at a loss as to how to even start to clean the kitchen. So, I just don’t do it and let him deal.

I do the most tedious shit during the week and then my husband makes it one big party over the weekend with my daughter. He has to be fun dad who takes her out and about all damn weekend. So, I’m at home looking at the huge mess and doing the damn laundry.

Then, I end up losing my shit by Sunday afternoon and I’m all like “The house is a mess and you’ve been gone playing “the funnest dad ever” for the weekend and this can’t continue!”

Fuck me gently, it does continue. The husband says he’ll take more time on the weekend to help with the house but does he do it?

Ha, of course not!

I’ve been “nagging” him about this same damn thing for years now. I don’t want to be chained to the washer and dryer and cleaning up messes around the house while he’s out having fun but he just doesn’t seem to get it.

A woman’s work is never done.

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Shoo Fly, Don’t Bother Me

I don’t like my psychiatrist. I’m sure he’s an okay guy but he comes off as really cold. But, I deal with him since I don’t really have any other options.

I usually dread going to his office and leave there more stressed than when I went in. I’ve been having some severe anxiety and frequent panic attacks for months now and it feels like I’m slowly suffocating under the weight of this anxiety.

I was pouring my heart out to this psychiatrist at my last appointment and he started eating a banana. I always laugh at the worst times. Nervous laughter. Seeing him eat a banana combined with me feeling very emotional and in tears combined with the phallic shape of the banana combined with my mind is that of a 12 year-old boy equals laughter.

He gobbled down the banana while I composed myself and the tears started coming. He starts swatting at the air and I try to continue talking to the spastic display in front of me.

He took notice and said “It’s a fruit fly. Go on….”

At this point I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I had been practicing what I wanted to say to him for weeks. And, there he is, swatting with both hands with his arms flailing about.

I’m trying so hard to keep a straight face while he continues swatting at this fruit fly. I went back to being an emotional mess and my head was down. When I was about to tell him something really difficult, he slapped his knee and said “Got it!”

I looked up to see him wiping off the remains of the fruit fly in his hand.

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Where The Fuck Is The Eagle?

We recently went on our yearly camping trip which was much needed and my husband and I just celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary. That seems so crazy. Where did the time go?

My camping style is renting a cabin with electricity and running water and roughing it for me is if I forget to bring my flat iron.

It was especially great this time around since I had my mom as an ally. Someone to hang out and eat chips and dip, plus watch Unreal, while the husband and hummingbird were out swimming all day.

I actually kayaked with my husband for the first time in ages. The last time we did that, it was early in our marriage and he had this sucky inflatable kayak that would just paddle around in circles. I found it hysterical.

While we were at the lake, we took a boat ride around the area with a guide.

I’ll say it right now, I suck at being a tourist because I don’t like guided tours for some reason. It can be fine in some cases but usually, to be honest, I just don’t care and would rather explore on my own.

So, we take this boat tour and this very nice woman points out the trees, cabins, private islands, eagles, beaver dams, etc. It was nice but for the most part, I just wanted to be back in the cabin, eating chips and dip with my mom. I am not an outdoor person by any means.

My mom and I get back to the cabin and start rehashing the hour long tour we had. We both confessed we didn’t know most of what the tour guide was pointing out to the group.

Tour Guide: The older cabins on the shoreline with their own piers were built in the 60’s. I will now tell you the entire history about this.

In My Head: What did she say about the 60’s? They did what? Should I say something to make it seem like I know what she’s saying?

I shake my head and say “Oh, hmmm.”

Tour Guide: This lake goes into so and so river to the left. You can see it in the clearing by the trees.

In My Head: I see lots of trees but I have no idea what she’s seeing that I’m not. I hope there’s not a quiz.

I shake my head and say, “Really, hmmm.”

Tour Guide: Straight ahead you can see a few beaver dams. See the sticks? Let me pull in a little closer. Now, the dams are more East of us.

In My Head: East? Which fucking way is East? I don’t see any damn dam sticks. Which way is fucking East?

I shake my head and say ” Awww, very nice.”

Tour Guide: On the private island to the right lives the so and so family. You can see so and so’s boat on the shore.

In My Head: Okay, cool. At least this time she said right instead of a direction but I can’t see a boat anywhere and there’s two small islands to the right of us. Scan… scan. Where’s the fucking boat and how long is this damn boat ride?

I shake my head and say “Nice.”

Tour Guide: In the trees ahead is a black mass in the middle where the eagle’s nest is. And, on top of the branch is the baby eagle who’s not such a baby anymore.

Passenger #5: That’s quite a big baby eagle. *Gets camera out*

In My Head: Scanning…. scanning…. scanning. What black fucking mass? Why the hell am I not seeing any of this shit? I don’t see anything resembling a nest. Scanning… scanning. And, where the fuck is the eagle? Where is the eagle? Okay. Now, my husband is also taking pictures of this eagle that I can’t see. Eagle? Where the fuck are you? I’m not seeing any of this stuff that’s being pointed out. Is everyone else just saying they see it, too? Where the fuck is this baby eagle?

I shake my head and say “Hmmm, wow. “

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Eat A Sandwich And Quit Fucking Other People

I’m alive. It’s been quite awhile. My depression has been brutal but I’m finally climbing out of that black hole.

First thing.

Chris Cornell.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It’s been a hard one to take. My husband never understands my sadness and feeling of loss when a celebrity who I’ve been following for years dies. I try to get him to understand that these people have contributed something to my life that made it better and that’s why it feels like I lost a friend or family member in some way.

I just can’t believe he’s gone.

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Everything going on in America and the world has me on the fucking edge every day. I’m just completely mindfucked by all this hatred that seems to be showing up more often.

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We adopted an 8 month-old chihuahua from the humane society last month. Little Luna is such a sweetie but was rescued from a puppy mill and she freaks the fuck out with other people and dogs. We’re definitely going to get a trainer to help us with that. She’ll be totally fine and chill but then she’ll see something outside or the doorbell will ring and she goes nuts. Luna Belle is a work in progress but so adorable and really smart.

The husband is still not sure what to think and one of our cat’s pissed on my husband when we were trying to introduce them so needless to say, it’s been slow going with Penny and she has been staying in the basement for the most part. Luna is so lovable once she warms up to people. It’s just getting that training in that I hope helps her.

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The hummingbird had her last day of second grade today. They had a lot of snow days to make up. She turned 8 a few months ago and I still can’t believe it.

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A family member has been going dick wild. She recently separated with her husband and I come to find out she’s been fucking some loser a week before she left her husband. Okay, this is where it gets so confusing. I also come to find out that she’s been fucking her estranged husband’s former brother-in-law and the current partner of this family member’s estranged husband’s ex wife for the last three months. Got that? Because I’m still so fucking confused.

I think she may have gone a little nutty because months ago she started taking diet pills that her doctor prescribed which is essentially speed. Now, she seems to have gained back some confidence with her weight loss. To that, I told my mom this family member needs to eat a sandwich and quit fucking other people. This whole thing has caused a big rumble in the small town she lives in and has been giving the family several what the fucks?!!

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I’ve had to make myself stop watching the news since it sends me into a panic so I’ve been getting my news by watching Trevor Noah on The Daily Show. It makes the news easier to bear with the damn fine Trevor Noah.

 

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Gym Membership

I’m going to take classes and get my ass in better shape. I’ll go to the gym at least five times a week. It’ll be hard to squeeze that many days in but I can do this. I will do this! Oh, look. There’s a kickboxing class on Friday. But the only class is at 5:15 am. Fuck that! But, I joined the gym to get in better shape. I have to do this. I want to do this. Even if I know I’m not a morning person at all.

I just need to go to bed early tonight. And I’ll try to get my 7 year-old in bed a little earlier than usual.

I can do this early class but I don’t know why any human would want to up that early to sweat their ass off at 5:15 am. There must be some people out there.

Or, maybe it’s a conspiracy by gyms across the world. Hmmm. They get me to think that they have classes so early because there’s apparently the need for it for it with other people. And, then the gym virus spreads with everyone thinking people are taking a kickboxing class at 5:15 in the morning so you’d be crazy not to but you really are because it’s at 5 fucking 15 in the morning.

Later that night I start thinking that class I signed up for at 5:15 am… what the fuck was I thinking??

But, I can do it. I can do this, damn it!

I’ll go to bed early so I can read for an hour. However, my kid decides to get up to use the bathroom 5 times before she finally goes to sleep and has to say good night each time.

That’s okay. I’ll just go to sleep now so I can get to that early ass class tomorrow morning.

Shit!

I can’t sleep. Maybe I’ll try and read a little more.

Um.. what the fuck happened? How did it become 1 in the morning already. Damn you books and all your damn words. And, fuck you 5:15 am kickboxing class.

I must have been sniffing some pretty strong fumes to think this exercise class was ever a good idea.

I can still do this, though. If I go to sleep now, I’ll get 3 and a half hours of sleep. Oh my god. Just kill me know. Only 3 1/2 hours of sleep. I’m not 20 anymore. This will kill me.

But I’m paying so much a month for this damn gym to take the classes and I’ve got to do this.

I will do this!

I can do this!

4:45 am. 15 degrees outside.

Fuck this. I’m going back to sleep.

But, but….

I will do this.

Uh huh.

Yep.

I will make that 5:15 am class.

No.

No, I won’t

And, I’ll let them continue taking money from my bank account every month since some day, I will do this!

Nope. Nope, I won’t.

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