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Anxiety Sucks

The anxiety I have always becomes much worse this time of year. I worry about every little fucking thing that I possibly can. I have major anxiety about driving and it’s become worse than I thought it could when I got into a fender bender in a grocery store parking lot a few weeks ago.

I was waiting for a blue SUV to pull out by me and once I started backing out, bam, the guy in the Dodge Durango pulled out at the same time and we didn’t see each other. His truck didn’t have a scratch on it but my poor Subaru got a dent in the back bumper that looks like the Hulk smashed it with his fist. I also got part of my taillight broken off.

I’m taking it to the body shop on Monday and getting a rental for a few days. But, my anxiety is out of control even more now. I used to panic and stress with driving in general but now when I’m in parking lots, I full on panic. I know it was just an accident and they can happen to anyone but I’ve been overthinking the fender bender, which is what I do best. Overthink.

Now, when I’m in a parking lot, I park far away from the other cars. Leave it to a big ass truck to park right next to me though.

I was also invited to someone’s house where there will be other people and my anxiety is really kicking in over that because yay, not only do I have anxiety but my social anxiety is off the charts. I’m making myself go though because I’m sick of anxiety always taking over my life.

It’s so hard to break through it. I’ve tried to channel my anxiety into positive and creative ways and while some things work, others don’t.

Xanax only does so much for me but without it, I’d be even more stark raving mad. I also have a surgery coming up and guess what? I’m thinking of all the things that can go wrong with it. Nothing like dying but the thought of being in physical pain makes me cringe.

I recently went on a panicky talking streak with my husband about how my anxiety can be really debilitating at times. People who don’t have it will never get it though. It’s not something you can just snap out of. It doesn’t matter how much therapy I’ve had over the years. It’s just the way I’m wired. I try to be more mindful and live in the moment but anxiety and depression rears its ugly head at me.

The panic attacks are so overwhelming. When I have one, it feels like I’m suffocating and I start shaking while my mind feels like I’m in a prison cell. I want to escape my body but I can’t. It can feel like I’m drowning and being chained to all of my dark thoughts.

Anxiety, you suck.

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Our Former Landlord Is Psycho

Warning… ranty words ahead.

Now that we finally bought a house after years of moving all over for the Navy, I thought we would finally be done with dealing with the worst landlord we’ve ever had at our last house.

But nope. This woman is a c u n t mobile. And, she’s a lawyer which is why she can find the loopholes to fuck us over. I know there’s much worse landlord stories than what we’ve gone through. My cousin, her husband and kids are dealing with a woman who puts locks on their shed and throws their little girl’s stuff all over the yard that they had stored away.

The rental market here sucks ass and last year, we only found one somewhat suitable property. It was overpriced and dumpy but it was between that or moving out an hour from where we were living. The house was so overpriced in rent by about 600 dollars but we were really screwed with the lack of options. We also decided not to buy back then because we were still planning on moving back to California or Seattle.

So, we rented from Ms. C u n t Mobile because we didn’t have any other options. From the second day we lived there and on, it was such a pain in the ass. Not only was the value of the house much lower while the landlord jacked up the price, there were also red flags with signing the lease.

She added in that if the stackable washer and dryer were to break, she wouldn’t buy a new one for the house while we were still there.

What I didn’t know was that the washer/dryer was a piece of shit that had the most disgusting smell. Something I wasn’t able to find out until we moved in. Blah, blah, blah, I ended up cleaning out black sludge from the rim of the washer because it hadn’t been taken care of. Not long after, guess what? Why, of course. The washer broke. Luckily we had our own but it wasn’t stackable and there was only enough space for a stackable one so the hubby had to build some contraption were it could fit in the small bathroom.

Ms. C u n t Mobile didn’t give a shit and didn’t even offer to haul it away. We had to have some friends move it down to the basement where it stunk everything up down there.

The landlord would also refuse to do any pest control. We had spiders all over and as much as my husband sprayed. It didn’t make a dent in them. One night while making my daughter’s lunch, I felt something drop on my arm from the ceiling and it was a fucking spider.

Oh my fucking god. After that, every time I made her lunch, I would be looking up at the ceiling every few seconds.

Another issue was the carpet. Not only was it old and falling apart, it was filthy. She kept insisting it was cleaned prior to us moving in but if that was the case, I wouldn’t have the bottom of my feet turn brown from the dirt on the carpet by the end of the day.

There’s lots more that’s petty bullshit but what we’re currently dealing with is our deposit checks. One is for our security deposit and the other is because we paid up until July 15th to give us more time to find a home but were completely moved out on the 5th.

Since we’re no strangers to moving so much, we calculate that since we moved out on the 5th, she would have until August 5th to pay us. But she insisted that since we wanted to extend our stay until the 15th, even though we didn’t stay that long and never had a written agreement, that she had until August 15th to pay us what amount to $2,500. We said fine like we have several times prior because she’s a psycho and we didn’t want to piss her off which would make bigger issues with her.

The hubby and I joked that just to be a bitch, she probably would even send the check until it was postmarked on the 15th, even though I felt it was due 10 days earlier.

Ms. C u n t y Mc Cuntster didn’t send the check until the 17th and it arrived to us on the 18th. That seemed like such a bitch move especially since she knew we were waiting for that chunk of cash.

The next day, the hubby and I got to Target for some things when out of nowhere he says he has to go to the car to make a phone call. I just assumed it was a work thing but he eventually comes back in while fuming. My husband doesn’t fume. He rarely gets anger and he’s as cool as a cucumber which can help tame my high anxiety.

He told me that Psycho had really pissed him off. My stomach sank and I couldn’t imagine what it could be. I had been telling him that I’ve been having a gut feeling she isn’t going to make this move out easy on us and will try and fuck us in some way.

And she sure did! She had emailed my husband and said while she was checking up on the utilities to see that they were all paid up (wtf? I’ve never had a landlord do that) and she found that morning that we have a sewer bill due for $71.40 and she will reissue our checks for the deposit and rent only after we show her proof that the bill is paid. She also said she was going to take the stop payment charges out of our money.

One… it we owe money on a bill, it was a complete oversight on our part and told her we accept that. We did find out that we owed it and paid for it promptly. We had just never received a bill. We also showed her proof of the payment but she’s been ignoring us and won’t answer her phone whenever we call.

Two… what the fuck, lady? She’s putting a stop payment on both checks when this bill has nothing to do with her. She wants proof that we pay it? And she wants confirmation from the sewer department after it’s paid by having someone from the department confirm it to her?

It’s pretty ironic that it’s the sewer department since she’s a piece of shit. Thankfully, my husband found that with Maine law, the landlord can’t keep any portion of the security deposit if it’s anytime after the date it was due, which was the 15th. We got it three days later. So, she fucked herself there.

Also, even though it’s in her lease about this very issue, the law says it overrides what the leaser says.

Either way, she finally fucked up but we haven’t heard from her since Friday evening. The law also states she has to give us the checks within 7 days or else she has to pay us double the amount she owes us. Go, Maine law! It seems so easy peasy. Just write a new check and send it out ASAP, or reverse the stop payment on the security deposit check.

But, I have a feeling with her being a lawyer, she’s going to fuck with us some more first since she’s been using so many loopholes for everything that she’s been fucking us over with this past year.

All I know is I actually had a celebration with tequila once we finally received those checks because it meant we never have to deal with the psycho again. But now, we’re still tied to her by this money.

What a bitch.

Any landlord from hell stories?

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Washing My Face

A reenactment of what it looks like when washing my face at the sink.

A reenactment of what it looks like when washing my face at the sink.

Step 1. Walk in the bathroom with dry clothes.

Step 2. Remove eye make up.

Step 3. Feel around for my skin cleanser since my eyes are stinging from the eye makeup remover and and I can’t fully open my eyes.

Step 4. Locate the cleanser. Wait a second. That’s the faucet handle.

Step 5. Finally find the cleanser.

Step 6. While still relatively dry, start washing my face.

Step 7. Rinse cleanser off my face.

Step 8. Have water run down over my elbows, dripping onto the floor and all over my shirt.

Step 9. Give my face a few more splashes.

Step 10. Get soaked.

Step 11. Feel around for the towel and have a moment of feeling nice because at least part of my body is clean since I haven’t had a chance to get a shower yet.

Step 12. Open my eyes and look around.

Step 13. See that my shirt is soaked and not just a little wet so I can’t give it a quick dry with the blow dryer.

Step 14. Notice that the counter is covered in water and splashed on the mirror.

Step 15. Go to the closet to get a dry shirt.

Step 16. On the way out of the bathroom, step into a puddle that was caused by my wild, flailing arms while washing my face.

Step 17. Take the hand towel and scootch it around on the floor with my feet to clean up the water.

Step 18. Change into a dry shirt.

Step 19. Dry off the counter with a towel while at the same time, giving me reason not to have to clean the bathroom for another week.

Step 20. Tell myself this is why I should only wash my face in the shower.

Step 21. When leaving the bathroom, step into another puddle of water.

Step 22. Accept that I’m a human hurricane when washing my face.

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Pinterest Has A Way Of Turning My Search Of Healthy, Meatless Meals Into Seven Layer Cakes And Chocolate Dipped Bacon

Pinterest-cork

I’ll be on Pinterest on any given night and it starts off pretty controlled. I give myself fifteen minutes, or so I’d like to think but I’ve learned my lesson. Once I’m on Pinterest, it’s like a black hole that sucks me in. It’ll start off with a zucchini noodle lasagne and healthy salads.

I’m sure because Pinterest likes to fuck with people, I’ll scroll down on similar items and bam, there’s a recipe for chocolate fudge. Mmmm, fudge. But, wait! I’m on Pinterest to find healthy meals, not fudge. Although, I haven’t had fudge in a long time, I could pin it and make it for Christmas. Okay, fine! I’m pinning it and going back to healthy salads.

Let’s see… salads. Already pinned that one. And, that one. Ooh, this one looks good, let me check that one out. Looks good. This salad has like 18 ingredients though. Who the hell has time to chop that shit up? It’d be easier to get a salad from Panera. Mmmm, Panera.

I love their chicken ceasar salad and a frozen lemonade. Oooh, frozen lemonade. Let me see what recipes Pinterest has for that.

Oh, look at this one. It’s alcoholic. Pinned! Okay, where was I? Frozen lemonade. Eh, don’t need any more of those. Oh, yeah. Healthy meals. Let’s try vegetarian. That looks good but my kid won’t eat that. Hmmm, maybe I could modify this one a bit. Pinned!

Okay, let’s see what else. Nope. Nope. Not that one. Oooh, creamy sun dried tomato pasta sauce. It’s not exactly healthy but what the hell. Pinned!

Scrolling down… nope, nope, yum, but I’ll never make that. Still… Pinned! Look at that. Chocolate cake. Like I really need that. Eh, I’ll take a look. Yum, Yum, Yum, holy shit, a 7 layer chocolate cake. That’s fucking amazing! I want that in my belly now! Mmmm.

I’m not pinning that though. I’m here to pin healthy meals, damn it! But, I can’t part with this cake. What if it never pops up again if I’m ever looking for cakes. Fine. Pinned!

Okay, back to healthy meals. But, wait. What’s this? Cheesy Buffalo Chicken Dip. Sounds good. But, what the hell would I need it for? I know! A Super Bowl party. But, I’ll never throw a Super Bowl party. I don’t even like football. Don’t think like that. Just think of the cheesy buffalo chicken goodness. Pinned!

Omg, talk about food porn. Chocolate dipped bacon. There’s no reason whatsoever to pin that. But, I must. No, I can’t. Yes, I can. No, I can’t.

I don’t have any boards that chocolate bacon would go under. And, really. I’m never making that. But, what if years from now there is an actual need for chocolate bacon and then I’ll think to myself, damn, I should have pinned that recipe I saw on Pinterest 6 years ago. Okay, I’ll make a ‘Food Porn’ board. Create!

I should be getting to bed but now it’s going to bug me that I only have one pin on my new ‘Food Porn’ board. I need to find a few more pins. It must be the OCD in me. Scrolling…. scrolling. Yum, maple bacon cupcakes. Okay, that actually makes me want to puke a bit from so much sweetness but what the hell. Pinned!

Wait.

What time is it?

12:30 am?

What the fuck just happened?

I need to be in bed.

A very loud alarm is going to be jumping on me and whining about breakfast in six hours.

But, look at that! A two layer buttercream frosting cake with edible gold leaf Baroque paintings and sugared flowers. Ha! Like I’d ever make that in a million years.

Pinned!

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Bedtime

6. Tell your kid almost every night that they need to drink less water so they don’t have to get up to be 3 or four times within an hour after bedtime. Then, easily forget to have your kid drink less because you’re trying to get them to hurry up with their bath or shower and they’re moving slower than slugs.

5. Go back and forth on what qualifies as pajamas, She has a drawer full of jammies, yet that’s too easy. She’ll want to wear one of her day shirts with her pajama bottoms but I know that’s one of her favorite shirts to wear to school and summer camp but she wants to wear it NOW! I have to pick my battles so I either quickly give in or tell her to change into a pajama top and that’s that.

4, When you say one hug and then I’m going, stick with it. Then once you get out in the hallway, feel like shit for denying your kid one more hug and go back, but this is the last time! Yeah, right.

3. We start the bedtime routine about an hour and a half before bedtime but even if it’s a little earlier or later, she never gets to bed on time. I’m so over it that I will basically do whatever will keep her in her bed so she’ll finally get to sleep.

2. That can sometimes require me to leave all the nights on upstairs. We have this thing about leaving ights on when we’re not in a room, but after over two hours of your kid fighting bedtime, I’ll be desperate.

1. She’s finally in bed and seemingly asleep so I get out some snacks and prepare to watch UnReal or Teen Mom when I hear her little voice from upstairs saying Mom? Mooom? I’m scared! What’s that noise from the t.v.? Are you eating something?

Shit!

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Stage Parents

I have no idea if there is a proper name for sports parents who are assholes, so I’ll just call them stage parents. I dealt with a doppelgänger Kate Gosselin in the hummingbird’s gymnastics class and then, I made sure to get in a different class so I wouldn’t wind up strangling her. But, next session, she was back and just as bad.

She threatens to put her youngest in the car for the rest of the class, simply for jumping up and down while waiting in line. Maybe she needs to be reminded that this is a gymnastics class so her kids are, hmmm, I don’t know… supposed to be bouncy and excited.

Within five minutes of a class, she yelled at all three of her daughters and that was just during the stretching part of the class. My eyes need to be checked she must be seeing something I didn’t Her girls were, gasp!, listening and doing what all the other kids were doing. What the fuckity fuck, lady?

The bird has had many different sports activities and there are some rabid sports parents out there. Nothing compares to Kate Gosselin 2.0 but I just don’t get the roid rage like tendencies coming from these parents and turning sports into cruel and unusual punishment.

I can’t understand the enormous pressure parents like this put on their young children. I watch kids at these activities. They’re either picking their nose, giggling together, or just want to be fed. It’s supposed to be fun and social. I could do without all the nose picking though.

It’s where kids can be kids and make friends. Instead, some poor child is being humiliated in public amongst many people. Wearing pajamas at your kid’s bus stop… I’m all for that kind of embarrassment. Incessantly yelling at your kid for an hour every week while they run, tumble, and have fun… what the actual fuck? I’m not saying these are bad parents. But, it does make me wonder if they’re they’re like this in public, can you imagine what it’s like when there isn’t an audience.

It really is just a game. Let kids run free and have a good time. And someone please hand a tissue to that nose picker over there.

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The Mall Is A Place That Is Hell On Earth

carousel

I recently took my daughter to the mall and it reminded me why I hate the mall. The hummingbird loves it so I endure it after taking a xanax. Not only is the drive 40 minutes away, and I hate driving, but crowds just aren’t my thing either. But, there’s always queso at the mall so besides dealing with the mall bullshit, I eat my beloved tortilla chips and queso at a restaurant that’s in the mall.

That cheesy, delicious, creamy, spicy queso makes me do it.

Cheese has superpowers over me.

But, I’m getting off topic.

The mall fucking sucks and I hate it but I go because after spending half a day at home with a 7 year-old that’s bouncing off the walls and running me ragged, I need to get the hell out of the house. The library is usually our go to place in that situation but on those beautiful, glorious paydays, I have to buy shit I don’t need.

Enter the mall.

Straight away, I have to get my queso and tortilla chips. If I’m full of cheese, I won’t have as much desire to ram people with my body while walking through the mall. It’s the people who stand there talking and are completely oblivious to the fact that other people exist. This person is usually standing in the middle of the aisle so you can’t get past even though you’ve said excuse me twice. They can also be right in front of a store blocking the walkway but you can’t pass because a herd of people decide to come in the opposite direction.

My daughter usually rides the carousel twice and I stand there waving at my daughter every single time she comes my way and take a picture. And usually, half way through, she starts to ignore me while I continue to wave and take 30 pictures of her, none of which turn out.

Then, she’ll ask for a punching balloon thingamajig and each time, I’ll say no.

On we go to one of the stores but wait, what’s that ahead? It’s the fucking Build-A-Bear. That damn store. The hummingbird tries to drag me in while I drag her away and look at that, a small group of people or a family is standing in front of the store, talking, while in the opposite direction, a crowd of people come by like a swarm of bees so we have no choice but to stop and wait which is just enough time for my daughter to use her super strength to get a few feet into Build-A-Bear and just long enough for me to glance at the prices and think what the fuck, break into a cold sweat because an employee of the store eyes us and starts walking our way, and then over-riding my stuffed to the gills stomach full of queso to find my super strength to zoom out of there.

Finally, we’re a few stores down and safe. Or so I thought. There’s a kiosk that has these smushy balls that are sticky and splat on the table and that sounds perverted. For some unknown reason, there’s a magnetic pull that brings kids to this place. After navigating my way from the sticky balls, we head into one of the clothing stores and even though I say we’re just going to look, there’s a cha-ching of some of that payday money.

We start walking to the next store and things are all shiny and calling my name like Sephora or The Body Shop but my daughter’s whiny “MOM” voice that is so bad, dogs can hear, either gets me out of their quick or makes me avoid those places completely.

But wait.

There’s a lipstick I just have to get and that lip balm that I’ll lose in the next few days smells really good so I can’t leave without that.

“MOM!”

Around this time, my mind tunes the whiny voice out because there’s too many shiny, pretty things to look at. That’s when I do what I said I’d never do as a mom but have done since she’s understood it. Bribing is a beautiful thing when you’re in that kind of situation.

I promise her she can buy one thing at the other clothing store within a certain amount of money “if you give mommy a few minutes more.”

Cha-ching!

Oh, there’s the cocoa butter body butter. I must get that too!

Cha-ching!

Before going into the hummingbird’s clothing store, I remind her that we’re only getting ONE thing. That’s it. Just one thing.

Cha-ching! Cha-ching!

Finally, sweet freedom from hell on earth is just out the door but wait. I get the puppy dog eyes and “please, please, please mom, can I ride the carousel once more?”

Okaaay.

While I’m waiting, we’re by the food court and all the smells start making my stomach rumble. The queso has done it’s job in the beginning but now I’m starving and there’s pizza, and Chinese food, and burgers, oh my.

Once the hummingbird is done, we head to the frozen yogurt place in the food court because it’s so smart to sugar your kid up before our 40 minute drive back home. I’m smart like that.

After that, fresh air and freedom from food court smells, crowds, and spending lots of money, we head to the car.

Oh shit, where is the fucking car. I always make a mental note of where I parked but forget it in less than five seconds. Fortunately, my very hyper, sugared up 7 year-old sees our car and it’s home at last.

But what’s that sound? It’s my bank account gently weeping. If only it knew that if we were to get into the clutches of the Build-A-Bear employees, it would be doing the ugly cry from buying all the overpriced bear shit that the place involves.

So, I reassure my bank account that we won’t experience the mall again for another few months. I do leave out the fact that there’s plenty of stuff just sitting there waiting to be bought in my Amazon shopping cart.

Cha-ching!

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