No one warned me about the "Charlie and Lola" Pink Milk Marathon the Disney Channel was running all friggin morning. Thankfully I like that cartoon. Now if it was Dora all morning? Let's just say I would have been carted away in an "I love me" jacket.
I'm feeling slightly better but far from 100%. I can barely breathe and I am constantly clearing my throat. And that is causing my throat to be irritated. On an up note, I did get these things at the pharmacy called "Soothers" with enchinacea, zinc, and vitamin C. They are wild cherry flaovored and are so good. Highly recommended.
And you can guess that there is no wedding this weekend. I still never heard from the pastor so it wsn't going to happen anyway. It's not like it's gonna be a big affair. Two "I do"s and we're done. If people want to show up that's great but we ain't feedin' them. Quite honestly, this weekend will be spent with me unconscious and Geo watching the baby.
Speaking of being unconscious, the medication my doctor prescribed to me had one of those lovely warning labels on it from the pharmacist. "May cause drowsiness". What a bunch of hooey! There was no "may" about it. It was a Day of the Dead zombie all morning sans the cannibalism. My daughter took full control of the house while I was drifting in and out of the enchanted woods. Thank goodness for the most part she is a good kid. She coloured in her colouring books (walls and furniture were spared) and played "princess". Next time I take the medicine will be bed time. Then again, anytime I'll be taking those meds will be bed time.
Have a great weekend everyone and, God willing, I'll be back in work Monday (Halloween).
Friday, October 28, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
My daughter is getting her revenge
I'm home today. And I still only have limited dial-up. Couldn't this have happened when the DSL was connected? Anyway, I can't talk at ALL. I mean, n-o-t-h-i-n-g! I didn't sleep at all last night. This little thing of not being able to breathe might have had a lot to do with it. I feel like Jumbo is standing on my chest - damn elephant. My throat hurts, yadda yadda yadda. You know the deal.
I have a doctor's appointment sometime today. The office has to call me back to see when they are able to squeeze me in. Oh joy.
And the Dinks is home with me.
Remember my posts where I thought I was being evil mommy because I was either yelling or arguing with her? I think she either remembers those times, too, or she got on-line and read my blog (clever girl). Be as it may, she is taking all out full advantage of the fact I can't talk above a low whisper.
I can't help but laugh. She's being a typical little kid.
"Hot damn! Mom can't yell at me. Where are my crayons and the Marks-a-lot?"
I have a doctor's appointment sometime today. The office has to call me back to see when they are able to squeeze me in. Oh joy.
And the Dinks is home with me.
Remember my posts where I thought I was being evil mommy because I was either yelling or arguing with her? I think she either remembers those times, too, or she got on-line and read my blog (clever girl). Be as it may, she is taking all out full advantage of the fact I can't talk above a low whisper.
I can't help but laugh. She's being a typical little kid.
"Hot damn! Mom can't yell at me. Where are my crayons and the Marks-a-lot?"
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
What not to say when applying for your marriage license - final chapter
Geo and I have braved the elements and were completing our application for our marriage license.
Scary thing is, we have meant to do this for quite a while but little things (that have recently been eliminated) got in the way. We even bought our wedding bands. They are made out of Titanium and they are still sitting in the box in the same spot I left them three months ago.
At least that's one cost that won't be wasted now.
The application process went pretty quick and relatively painless ... like a tetanus shot. It would have been quicker if I were paying attention.
The only slight problem we ran into with the application was with me.
I am a widow. When my husband died, I was told by legal counsel that I could legally have my name changed back to my maiden name without having to petition to the courts (as some divorcees do after they are rid of their ex). All I needed to present to Social Security and the Department of Motor Vehicles was my husband's death certificate. Well, when this lady was filling out the app, she asked for my change of name documents. I nervously looked at Geo, who gave me the look of "oh you have to been effing kidding me", and told her what I was told years ago when N died.
"Oh, I don't think that's true. I'll check but I think there might be a problem."
She got up to go ask (I am assuming) her supervisor. I couldn't believe after all these years I had to petition and pay to get my name changed to something that, according to the US Government, it already was. Geo was pissed.
"It's always something." he muttered under his breath
"Don't worry. It's total crap. No way would Social Security change my name willy-nilly. I even remember the girl at the Norristown office calling somewhere to verify I could do it."
She came back with a smile.
"You were right!"
Whew!
She printed out the application and Geo and I checked it for errors. None! We signed it and she showed us a copy of our "keepsake" license.
"You get a certified copy of it in the mail two to four weeks after your wedding."
Odd. I don't recall ever receiving one with my first husband.
She also told me that since 9/11, the US Government is much stricter in changing one's surname. For the price of one dollar, I got a photocopy of our application. I was to present the marriage certificate plus the photocopy to Social Security and the Department of Motor Vehicle. The photocopy was for paper trail purposes. Now I understood why she was so iffy about my name change.
"And I am sure," she said while looking at my last name, "that you'll want to change to his."
Just so you know, my name will go from ten letters to three.
We gave her cash, she handed us receipts, and that was that!
We left the office and headed down the hall back to the elevators. There were two officers standing there with two rather scraggly characters in handcuffs also waiting to get on the 'vator. When it arrived, the officers said to the occupants, "Please leave. We have to escort these men downstairs." Great. Off the lift came an older couple, a young woman with a toddler in her arms, a woman who could have passed as a lawyer, and a young man. The lawyerish lady said, "I'm taking the damn stairs!" and, in a huff, clicked-clicked-clicked with her heels down the mini-hall (where you get your hunting license) and disappeared through a doorway. I looked at Geo and he looked at me and we headed to the stairs.
"This ain't so bad. We're getting our exercise in" he said as we stomped down to the first floor.
We walked through the double wood doors and stopped dead.
"Where the [expletive] are we?" I said out loud as I looked around the extremely unfamiliar surroundings. It looked like we were in a basement. There was a small landing of stairs to our right that lead up to a pair of glass doors to the street outside. In front of the doors was this sign that said "As of [some date before today], you may not use these doors to exit the building [blah blah blah]". And to our left look like the Doylestown Sheriff's Department. Even better!
The doors to the stairwell opened and a another lawyer type came through the doors. She noticed our expressions of bewilderment and asked, "Do you need help?"
"Yeah," said Geo, "how do we get out of this building?"
She laughed and told us to go back up the stairs to the second floor and that's how we exit.
Oh joy! More exercise!
Back up the stairs we went to the second floor where we found ourselves at the security checkpoint from this morning. I looked and saw this huge wall of glass with double doors that lead to the outside world. I asked the smiling guard (again with the smiling) if that was the way out.
"Yes, ma'am. You have a good day and be careful."
And we were out of there!
Back in the car, we were fighting over the climate controls.
"I'm hot!"
"I'm freezing!"
"You have piss for blood!"
"And you're not human you friggin polar bear!"
I gave up and sat there in the passenger seat stewing trying to keep warm.
"Are you ever going to friggin ask me to marry you?!" I blurted out
Geo chuckled
"Okay. Hey hooch, you wanna get married?"
"Yes."
"Okay, we're done. Now quit your bitchin'!" He flashed me the smile that won me over years ago.
He is such the hopeless romantic. Actually, I think when it comes to romance, he's just hopeless.
But I still love him. I must. I'm gonna marry him!
Scary thing is, we have meant to do this for quite a while but little things (that have recently been eliminated) got in the way. We even bought our wedding bands. They are made out of Titanium and they are still sitting in the box in the same spot I left them three months ago.
At least that's one cost that won't be wasted now.
The application process went pretty quick and relatively painless ... like a tetanus shot. It would have been quicker if I were paying attention.
The only slight problem we ran into with the application was with me.
I am a widow. When my husband died, I was told by legal counsel that I could legally have my name changed back to my maiden name without having to petition to the courts (as some divorcees do after they are rid of their ex). All I needed to present to Social Security and the Department of Motor Vehicles was my husband's death certificate. Well, when this lady was filling out the app, she asked for my change of name documents. I nervously looked at Geo, who gave me the look of "oh you have to been effing kidding me", and told her what I was told years ago when N died.
"Oh, I don't think that's true. I'll check but I think there might be a problem."
She got up to go ask (I am assuming) her supervisor. I couldn't believe after all these years I had to petition and pay to get my name changed to something that, according to the US Government, it already was. Geo was pissed.
"It's always something." he muttered under his breath
"Don't worry. It's total crap. No way would Social Security change my name willy-nilly. I even remember the girl at the Norristown office calling somewhere to verify I could do it."
She came back with a smile.
"You were right!"
Whew!
She printed out the application and Geo and I checked it for errors. None! We signed it and she showed us a copy of our "keepsake" license.
"You get a certified copy of it in the mail two to four weeks after your wedding."
Odd. I don't recall ever receiving one with my first husband.
She also told me that since 9/11, the US Government is much stricter in changing one's surname. For the price of one dollar, I got a photocopy of our application. I was to present the marriage certificate plus the photocopy to Social Security and the Department of Motor Vehicle. The photocopy was for paper trail purposes. Now I understood why she was so iffy about my name change.
"And I am sure," she said while looking at my last name, "that you'll want to change to his."
Just so you know, my name will go from ten letters to three.
We gave her cash, she handed us receipts, and that was that!
We left the office and headed down the hall back to the elevators. There were two officers standing there with two rather scraggly characters in handcuffs also waiting to get on the 'vator. When it arrived, the officers said to the occupants, "Please leave. We have to escort these men downstairs." Great. Off the lift came an older couple, a young woman with a toddler in her arms, a woman who could have passed as a lawyer, and a young man. The lawyerish lady said, "I'm taking the damn stairs!" and, in a huff, clicked-clicked-clicked with her heels down the mini-hall (where you get your hunting license) and disappeared through a doorway. I looked at Geo and he looked at me and we headed to the stairs.
"This ain't so bad. We're getting our exercise in" he said as we stomped down to the first floor.
We walked through the double wood doors and stopped dead.
"Where the [expletive] are we?" I said out loud as I looked around the extremely unfamiliar surroundings. It looked like we were in a basement. There was a small landing of stairs to our right that lead up to a pair of glass doors to the street outside. In front of the doors was this sign that said "As of [some date before today], you may not use these doors to exit the building [blah blah blah]". And to our left look like the Doylestown Sheriff's Department. Even better!
The doors to the stairwell opened and a another lawyer type came through the doors. She noticed our expressions of bewilderment and asked, "Do you need help?"
"Yeah," said Geo, "how do we get out of this building?"
She laughed and told us to go back up the stairs to the second floor and that's how we exit.
Oh joy! More exercise!
Back up the stairs we went to the second floor where we found ourselves at the security checkpoint from this morning. I looked and saw this huge wall of glass with double doors that lead to the outside world. I asked the smiling guard (again with the smiling) if that was the way out.
"Yes, ma'am. You have a good day and be careful."
And we were out of there!
Back in the car, we were fighting over the climate controls.
"I'm hot!"
"I'm freezing!"
"You have piss for blood!"
"And you're not human you friggin polar bear!"
I gave up and sat there in the passenger seat stewing trying to keep warm.
"Are you ever going to friggin ask me to marry you?!" I blurted out
Geo chuckled
"Okay. Hey hooch, you wanna get married?"
"Yes."
"Okay, we're done. Now quit your bitchin'!" He flashed me the smile that won me over years ago.
He is such the hopeless romantic. Actually, I think when it comes to romance, he's just hopeless.
But I still love him. I must. I'm gonna marry him!
What not to say when applying for your marriage license - part two
So Geo and I decided now is the time to get hitched. You'd think the darling man would at least ASK me to marry him.
We decided to forgo City Hall in downtown Philly and instead opted for the Bucks County Courthouse in hermetically sealed Doylestown PA USA. After many blank stares and a few near misses on directions (within the building, not driving), we made it to The Clerk of Orphans' Court Division of the Bucks County Court of Common Pleas.
We walked in the Orphan's Court office and I was impressed. There were all of these old books everywhere. I pointed them out to Geo. I told him I was amazed on how trusting the place was in leaving these big ole books around for anyone to paw at.
"They're ledgers, babe. They're full of public records."
"Yeah, but in Philly I think they're under lock and key in the basement."
There was a young couple in there already being waited on at the counter. As soon as we walked in, they were escorted out by someone who said she was taking them to the next floor up for something or another. I couldn't hear it and Geo didn't care.
There were also these two large round pastel tables that sported a variety of helpful pamphlets with titles like "Marriage in PA". The office was so bright and cheery. I guess they need to do that since people mostly come here for their impending doom.
We sat down with a pleasant woman. No, I don't remember her name. I have it somewhere and quite honestly, I don't feel like looking for it. She was very sweet, talked with a really low voice, and was quite the good sport considering how goofy Geo and I are.
There are a series of questions that must be asked whenever someone is applying for a license and one of those questions is "Are you of sound mind?" I seriously did not hear the woman ask this. The sad part is neither did Geo. So I answered "Wha'?" and Geo answered "Huh?". I personally didn't think that was cause for an all out belly laugh but she did. She laughed so hard I thought she was going into convulsions. After a few minutes, when she calmed down, she apologised.
"Oh, I needed that. It's been a long morning" she said while still trying to repress more laughter.
She then went on to tell us the couple who were in as we walked in were originally heading to Cancun and Hurricane Wilma put a pinch in their wedding plans. And it was to occur that weekend (and it was Friday). I still didn't understand but I figured whatever the problem was couldn't have been good.
Before I continue, I should warn you that I have the attention span of a coffee table. At a moments notice, I can throw a switch and my train of thought will derail. Lucky for me, my kind sweet Geo is there to help things along.
"Hey! She's asking you a question."
"Hmmm? Oh sorry."
"I wanted to know, " she politely asked probably for the third time "when the event will take place?"
I stared. "What event?"
The woman smiled and chuckled a bit. "You're wedding?"
"Ohhh. Soon I guess. We haven't set a date."
"Well, you do know the license is good for 60 days, right?"
"Then I guess I don't have a choice but to get married now," I said with a smile. Unfortunately, I think I was the only one who took that statement humorously.
I really wonder where my head goes sometimes and wherever it goes if it would come back with a brain.
... to be cont'd
We decided to forgo City Hall in downtown Philly and instead opted for the Bucks County Courthouse in hermetically sealed Doylestown PA USA. After many blank stares and a few near misses on directions (within the building, not driving), we made it to The Clerk of Orphans' Court Division of the Bucks County Court of Common Pleas.
We walked in the Orphan's Court office and I was impressed. There were all of these old books everywhere. I pointed them out to Geo. I told him I was amazed on how trusting the place was in leaving these big ole books around for anyone to paw at.
"They're ledgers, babe. They're full of public records."
"Yeah, but in Philly I think they're under lock and key in the basement."
There was a young couple in there already being waited on at the counter. As soon as we walked in, they were escorted out by someone who said she was taking them to the next floor up for something or another. I couldn't hear it and Geo didn't care.
There were also these two large round pastel tables that sported a variety of helpful pamphlets with titles like "Marriage in PA". The office was so bright and cheery. I guess they need to do that since people mostly come here for their impending doom.
We sat down with a pleasant woman. No, I don't remember her name. I have it somewhere and quite honestly, I don't feel like looking for it. She was very sweet, talked with a really low voice, and was quite the good sport considering how goofy Geo and I are.
There are a series of questions that must be asked whenever someone is applying for a license and one of those questions is "Are you of sound mind?" I seriously did not hear the woman ask this. The sad part is neither did Geo. So I answered "Wha'?" and Geo answered "Huh?". I personally didn't think that was cause for an all out belly laugh but she did. She laughed so hard I thought she was going into convulsions. After a few minutes, when she calmed down, she apologised.
"Oh, I needed that. It's been a long morning" she said while still trying to repress more laughter.
She then went on to tell us the couple who were in as we walked in were originally heading to Cancun and Hurricane Wilma put a pinch in their wedding plans. And it was to occur that weekend (and it was Friday). I still didn't understand but I figured whatever the problem was couldn't have been good.
Before I continue, I should warn you that I have the attention span of a coffee table. At a moments notice, I can throw a switch and my train of thought will derail. Lucky for me, my kind sweet Geo is there to help things along.
"Hey! She's asking you a question."
"Hmmm? Oh sorry."
"I wanted to know, " she politely asked probably for the third time "when the event will take place?"
I stared. "What event?"
The woman smiled and chuckled a bit. "You're wedding?"
"Ohhh. Soon I guess. We haven't set a date."
"Well, you do know the license is good for 60 days, right?"
"Then I guess I don't have a choice but to get married now," I said with a smile. Unfortunately, I think I was the only one who took that statement humorously.
I really wonder where my head goes sometimes and wherever it goes if it would come back with a brain.
... to be cont'd
Many are celebrating and revelling in my misery
I can not talk at all. Nothing. I have barely audible squeaky noises coming from my mouth. This is absolute hell. I have gone from Demi Moore (lat night) to Marge Simpson (this morning) to a mime (present).
So of course, my loving office mates are taking full advantage of my temporary disability.
So far, they have joked, mimicked, mocked, and giggled.
One even went as far as trying to steal my ginger snaps off my desk thinking I'll just allow that to happen. Guess what? I have rubber bands, paper clips, and an aim that says you won't even make it of my office before you get stung in the butt. And I said all that with just a stare.
I knew watching all those Clint Eastwood movies would pay-off one day.
So of course, my loving office mates are taking full advantage of my temporary disability.
So far, they have joked, mimicked, mocked, and giggled.
One even went as far as trying to steal my ginger snaps off my desk thinking I'll just allow that to happen. Guess what? I have rubber bands, paper clips, and an aim that says you won't even make it of my office before you get stung in the butt. And I said all that with just a stare.
I knew watching all those Clint Eastwood movies would pay-off one day.
Quick post for now
I have been frightfully busy the past three days. Couple that with no high-speed at home makes for a bad time for blogging.
Also, I'm sick. No voice. I woke up this morning sounding like Marge Simpson.
And I haven't heard back from the pastor on seeing about getting married Saturday, 10/29/2005 (yeah, I still have to post part two of the marriage license escapade).
Please be patient with me. More posts will be here throughout the day.
Now, it's time for my hot tea.
Also, I'm sick. No voice. I woke up this morning sounding like Marge Simpson.
And I haven't heard back from the pastor on seeing about getting married Saturday, 10/29/2005 (yeah, I still have to post part two of the marriage license escapade).
Please be patient with me. More posts will be here throughout the day.
Now, it's time for my hot tea.
Monday, October 24, 2005
What not to say when applying for your marriage license - part one
Well, we did it! Geo and I finally got our marriage license. My gosh, we are a lazy pair of so-and-so's.
We went to the Bucks County Courthouse in Doylestown. Yeah, I realize we live in Philly but getting to Center City is such as dog and I didn't feel like fighting I-95S traffic in the rain.
So we fought with 611- N traffic in the rain.
It was so easy to get there. No lie! It was cakewalk. Stay on 611. Then, bear to the right to Doylestown. Straight ahead. To the left at the fork. BOOM! You are there!
And D-Town was so ... so ... clean. No one was laying on a stoop nearby wondering if we had spare change. No one was standing on a corner proclaiming that Roosevelt should be impeached (I did witness that in Center City once). All of Doylestown's downtown was neat and orderly and manicured. I mean really manicured - almost Stepford Wife-ish.
The courthouse itself is located right at a fork in the road between Main and Court. Geo kept saying "I doubt this is it. It don't look like a courthouse." In between shivering mumbles (it was blastedly cold Friday morning), I told him to shut up and keep walking. He did - begrudgingly. He kept making comments like, "It looks more like a library" and "Are you sure you know where we are?" Quite honestly, I had no clue where we were. I, too, didn't think we were at the right spot but I wasn't going to let him know I was in doubt. When we got to the building's entrance, there was these big ole fat letters saying "courthouse".
"See," I said to him pointing my finger "I told you so. Now where's my apology?"
"Yeah okay. Fine, I'm sorry you dragged my ass up here."
Ignoring him, I went through the glass doors. We walked through another set of double glass doors that lead to the bottom of a stairway to the second floor landing. I must have had my "where-the hell-am-I" look on because the guard said to us,
"Marriage licenses? Up the stairs to that landing, pass through security, go to the elevators to the third floor, go to your right down the hall and it's there on your right side."
Yikes! The man read my mind (not like it's a ripping read). He smiled the entire length of his little spiel and I swear he didn't take a breath. I was in awe.
I looked at Geo and said, "He must be used to that."
Geo shook his head and replied, "Hello? The man JUST said he sees couples like us all the time. Christ, try listening!" By now he was walking ahead of me up the stairway.
I shot him a look. "So says the ass to the woman who he KNOWS is going deaf." I don't know if he heard me. He probably did.
We fumbled through security. I handed the guard my pocketbook which he dropped on the conveyer belt. I made an embarrassed face as I emptied my pockets into the little plastic container.
"Please excuse the contents" I said as I dropped a tampon I had roaming in my jacket pocket into the bucket.
"I don't see anything unusual" he replied with a smile. What was it with the guards and smiling here? Did they go to a class in Disney World on being a good cast member?
I walked through the metal bars and quickly pocketed my unmentionables on the other side.
We hopped on the elevator to the third floor. As I got off, I started walking to my right when I hear Geo say "Wait, is that the right way?"
He was staring at a sign on the wall that had all these arrows and different department names.
"Dumbass, remember the guard's speech? Off the 'vator and to the right."
"Yeah but that sign says for hunting, fishing, and dog licenses" he said pointing down a hall that effectively would have been behind us when we got off the elevator (make a right and a quick right again).
"Yeah, and the arrow points that way. We want to go that way ... to the right the second you get off the elevator. Oh ... and look! That arrow is pointing down this hall! And it says marriage licenses. What a friggin concept!"
I screwed up my eyes and made the most obnoxious dumb face possible. He looked at me and gave me a "Duh!" cross-eyed face.
As we walked the hall, I asked him, "Are you ever going to ask me to marry you?"
"I'm spending fifty bucks on the license. What more do you want?"
"It would be nice if you actually proposed."
"Yeah, okay."
We live together, have a child, and I wash his laundry. You'd think he would at least ask me to get hitched. I wasn't even asking for him to get on one knee. Lord knows he'd have a rough enough time getting back up off the floor.
Be as it may, proposed to or not, we were about to apply for our "death do us part" license.
... to be continued
We went to the Bucks County Courthouse in Doylestown. Yeah, I realize we live in Philly but getting to Center City is such as dog and I didn't feel like fighting I-95S traffic in the rain.
So we fought with 611- N traffic in the rain.
It was so easy to get there. No lie! It was cakewalk. Stay on 611. Then, bear to the right to Doylestown. Straight ahead. To the left at the fork. BOOM! You are there!
And D-Town was so ... so ... clean. No one was laying on a stoop nearby wondering if we had spare change. No one was standing on a corner proclaiming that Roosevelt should be impeached (I did witness that in Center City once). All of Doylestown's downtown was neat and orderly and manicured. I mean really manicured - almost Stepford Wife-ish.
The courthouse itself is located right at a fork in the road between Main and Court. Geo kept saying "I doubt this is it. It don't look like a courthouse." In between shivering mumbles (it was blastedly cold Friday morning), I told him to shut up and keep walking. He did - begrudgingly. He kept making comments like, "It looks more like a library" and "Are you sure you know where we are?" Quite honestly, I had no clue where we were. I, too, didn't think we were at the right spot but I wasn't going to let him know I was in doubt. When we got to the building's entrance, there was these big ole fat letters saying "courthouse".
"See," I said to him pointing my finger "I told you so. Now where's my apology?"
"Yeah okay. Fine, I'm sorry you dragged my ass up here."
Ignoring him, I went through the glass doors. We walked through another set of double glass doors that lead to the bottom of a stairway to the second floor landing. I must have had my "where-the hell-am-I" look on because the guard said to us,
"Marriage licenses? Up the stairs to that landing, pass through security, go to the elevators to the third floor, go to your right down the hall and it's there on your right side."
Yikes! The man read my mind (not like it's a ripping read). He smiled the entire length of his little spiel and I swear he didn't take a breath. I was in awe.
I looked at Geo and said, "He must be used to that."
Geo shook his head and replied, "Hello? The man JUST said he sees couples like us all the time. Christ, try listening!" By now he was walking ahead of me up the stairway.
I shot him a look. "So says the ass to the woman who he KNOWS is going deaf." I don't know if he heard me. He probably did.
We fumbled through security. I handed the guard my pocketbook which he dropped on the conveyer belt. I made an embarrassed face as I emptied my pockets into the little plastic container.
"Please excuse the contents" I said as I dropped a tampon I had roaming in my jacket pocket into the bucket.
"I don't see anything unusual" he replied with a smile. What was it with the guards and smiling here? Did they go to a class in Disney World on being a good cast member?
I walked through the metal bars and quickly pocketed my unmentionables on the other side.
We hopped on the elevator to the third floor. As I got off, I started walking to my right when I hear Geo say "Wait, is that the right way?"
He was staring at a sign on the wall that had all these arrows and different department names.
"Dumbass, remember the guard's speech? Off the 'vator and to the right."
"Yeah but that sign says for hunting, fishing, and dog licenses" he said pointing down a hall that effectively would have been behind us when we got off the elevator (make a right and a quick right again).
"Yeah, and the arrow points that way. We want to go that way ... to the right the second you get off the elevator. Oh ... and look! That arrow is pointing down this hall! And it says marriage licenses. What a friggin concept!"
I screwed up my eyes and made the most obnoxious dumb face possible. He looked at me and gave me a "Duh!" cross-eyed face.
As we walked the hall, I asked him, "Are you ever going to ask me to marry you?"
"I'm spending fifty bucks on the license. What more do you want?"
"It would be nice if you actually proposed."
"Yeah, okay."
We live together, have a child, and I wash his laundry. You'd think he would at least ask me to get hitched. I wasn't even asking for him to get on one knee. Lord knows he'd have a rough enough time getting back up off the floor.
Be as it may, proposed to or not, we were about to apply for our "death do us part" license.
... to be continued
What Horror Movie Are You?
A big shout out and thank you to Chris for having this quiz on his site so close to Halloween!
Take the quiz: "Which Horror Movie Are You?"
The Craft
You're whole life, you've felt different. You know you're different, and that is why you break away from the norm and don't give a shit what other people think about you. You're you, you're proud, you're a bit... weird might I say? but you're far more interesting than most people will ever percieve. Keep being yourself, whether people like it or not.
Take the quiz: "Which Horror Movie Are You?"
The Craft
You're whole life, you've felt different. You know you're different, and that is why you break away from the norm and don't give a shit what other people think about you. You're you, you're proud, you're a bit... weird might I say? but you're far more interesting than most people will ever percieve. Keep being yourself, whether people like it or not.
Man oh Manischewitz, is that description spot-on!! The sad part is I have NEVER seen "The Craft".
Must rent now.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Someday my DSL will start
Verizon has now graciously informed me that my DSL start date has moved from 11/3 to 11/9.
Whimper
Geo is not going to be happy.
Now for a clarification on my non-blogging for the weekend. It's not because of dial-up. It's because we have only 300 minutes of dial-up available each month. I have eaten 45 minutes thus far. Geo has no other access to the internet whereas I have a T1 in work. Ergo, I will not blog from home so Geo has the minutes to access the net.
I know, I know. I'm such the unselfish sweetie! Yeah, I'm gagging just writing that.
Bye until Monday!
Whimper
Geo is not going to be happy.
Now for a clarification on my non-blogging for the weekend. It's not because of dial-up. It's because we have only 300 minutes of dial-up available each month. I have eaten 45 minutes thus far. Geo has no other access to the internet whereas I have a T1 in work. Ergo, I will not blog from home so Geo has the minutes to access the net.
I know, I know. I'm such the unselfish sweetie! Yeah, I'm gagging just writing that.
Bye until Monday!
Friday, October 21, 2005
Slight hiccough in Operation Eliminate Comcast
The DirecTV guys got here around noonish yesterday. They were lost.
When they came in they looked at the setup and asked if they could just use the current cable connection for the satellite system. Me, being the brain I am, said "Sure! Go ahead! The cable tv is over with when y'all leave." I was giddy. I started doing the "Goodbye to Comcast" dance with the baby. Life was good.
When the installers were finished, I had a plate on my roof looking south (I think - I suck at directions) and two TVs with 155 channels of "lord knows what".
So I merrily skipped over to the laptop to blog on how phase two was complete.
Then the horror sank in.
Oh crap.
I told the guys to use the cable connection. That was my internet.
A few seconds of silence and then a rather loud *ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!*
"I KILLED THE INTERNET!!! GEO IS GONNA KILL ME!!"
I scared the poor baby. She thought I was yelling at her. It took about two minutes to convince her that the only person who deserved to be yelled at was me. And it was about to happen. Because I had to call Geo to tell him the wonderful news.
Oh boy.
I was terrified. I called him and he was not in a pleasant mood. I said, "Well, babe, I got good news and bad news."
"What's the bad news? What did you do?" he asked.
I told him and I cringed for the inevitable yelling.
"Is AOL still active?" he inquired
"Um, yeah." I replied
"We can still dial-up?"
"Um, yeah."
"So I can get my e-mail?"
"Um, yeah." I was in broken record loop mode.
"And the DSL will be here in two weeks?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Okay, no big."
WHEW!
So I am using my blazing fast 56K modem now. Ooooo. Dial-up sucks.
So, the blogging will have to wait until I get back to work. Have a great weekend all.
When they came in they looked at the setup and asked if they could just use the current cable connection for the satellite system. Me, being the brain I am, said "Sure! Go ahead! The cable tv is over with when y'all leave." I was giddy. I started doing the "Goodbye to Comcast" dance with the baby. Life was good.
When the installers were finished, I had a plate on my roof looking south (I think - I suck at directions) and two TVs with 155 channels of "lord knows what".
So I merrily skipped over to the laptop to blog on how phase two was complete.
Then the horror sank in.
Oh crap.
I told the guys to use the cable connection. That was my internet.
A few seconds of silence and then a rather loud *ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!*
"I KILLED THE INTERNET!!! GEO IS GONNA KILL ME!!"
I scared the poor baby. She thought I was yelling at her. It took about two minutes to convince her that the only person who deserved to be yelled at was me. And it was about to happen. Because I had to call Geo to tell him the wonderful news.
Oh boy.
I was terrified. I called him and he was not in a pleasant mood. I said, "Well, babe, I got good news and bad news."
"What's the bad news? What did you do?" he asked.
I told him and I cringed for the inevitable yelling.
"Is AOL still active?" he inquired
"Um, yeah." I replied
"We can still dial-up?"
"Um, yeah."
"So I can get my e-mail?"
"Um, yeah." I was in broken record loop mode.
"And the DSL will be here in two weeks?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Okay, no big."
WHEW!
So I am using my blazing fast 56K modem now. Ooooo. Dial-up sucks.
So, the blogging will have to wait until I get back to work. Have a great weekend all.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
One blogger's answer to PeTA
I don't mind PeTA. Some of their causes are of the noble sense. But on the whole, they are completely insane. Unlike some of their members, I can not equate my child with a white lab rat. Sorry, but if the all out cure for, say, AIDS or breast cancer came from the sacrifice of ten thousand rats, oh well. Bye-bye, Ben!
So for those of you who find PeTA to be just a bit off, here is a good read for you from that crazy ranter, Samantha Burns.
Meeting of the P.E.R.V.'s
So for those of you who find PeTA to be just a bit off, here is a good read for you from that crazy ranter, Samantha Burns.
Meeting of the P.E.R.V.'s
I bet they are lost
I live in this wonderful section of NE Philly that I swear time forgot.
Within this section, I live on a street that was created in 1940. It was in the middle of a corn farm. The previous owner told me she used to run out in the corn field as a little girl and pick corn and throw it in the corn pit they had dug in the backyard (nothing remains of that pit). No lie, this was the only strip of houses, aside from farm houses, up until the mid 1960's.
That's when houses starting popping up everywhere.
And our little strip of houses was in the middle. No sidewalks to speak of. If a car comes down our street, unless they live here, they are probably lost. It's nothing like the Philly people would picture in their minds at the mention of the city.
About two blocks over, our street continues; however, the two are not connected. And the other street is off of a main drag. Hence, whenever I mention my street name, inevitably someone from the area says, "Oh yeah, that's off such and such" to which I reply "No, that's the other street".
So there is my dilemma.
Anything that needs to be delivered or any servicing this house may need is a guarantee that the driver of whatever business will get lost. It happens every ... single ... friggin ... time.
I'm waiting for the phone to ring any second now.
Within this section, I live on a street that was created in 1940. It was in the middle of a corn farm. The previous owner told me she used to run out in the corn field as a little girl and pick corn and throw it in the corn pit they had dug in the backyard (nothing remains of that pit). No lie, this was the only strip of houses, aside from farm houses, up until the mid 1960's.
That's when houses starting popping up everywhere.
And our little strip of houses was in the middle. No sidewalks to speak of. If a car comes down our street, unless they live here, they are probably lost. It's nothing like the Philly people would picture in their minds at the mention of the city.
About two blocks over, our street continues; however, the two are not connected. And the other street is off of a main drag. Hence, whenever I mention my street name, inevitably someone from the area says, "Oh yeah, that's off such and such" to which I reply "No, that's the other street".
So there is my dilemma.
Anything that needs to be delivered or any servicing this house may need is a guarantee that the driver of whatever business will get lost. It happens every ... single ... friggin ... time.
I'm waiting for the phone to ring any second now.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
The irony of this one made me giggle
I heard this on the radio on the drive to work and I could not help but laugh my ever loving behind off.
Dog Attacks Anti-Dangerous Dog Bill Author
Bob Schwartz. What a dope. Hospitalized with dog bites. I wonder if the people in the hospital got a chuckle out of it.
"Hey everyone, check it out. It's that dude who wrote the mean dog bill! Hey Schwartz, tell me man, all I want to know is 'Who's your doggie?' Arf, arf, arf, arf! Hahahahahaha!!"
Dog Attacks Anti-Dangerous Dog Bill Author
Bob Schwartz. What a dope. Hospitalized with dog bites. I wonder if the people in the hospital got a chuckle out of it.
"Hey everyone, check it out. It's that dude who wrote the mean dog bill! Hey Schwartz, tell me man, all I want to know is 'Who's your doggie?' Arf, arf, arf, arf! Hahahahahaha!!"
Too busy today
I had to go to the dentist this afternoon. It was no big - just my semi-annual cleaning.
However, since I did it during an extended lunch break, I had zero time to blog today. Good thing 'cause I had no clue what to blog about.
I'm home tomorrow with the baby. She and I will patiently wait for the DirecTV person to show and install our dish. After that, phase two of operation Eliminate Comcast wil be complete. I hope the poor kid doesn't get too bored being home with me. I know lots of moms stay home with their children and that's great because that's what their children are used to. My child is used to going to school. Tomorrow is gymnastics. She's loves gymnastics. I feel bad having her stay home. But then I think maybe a little mommy/daughter downtime will be cool.
We shall see.
At least I'm one step closer to telling Comcast to go pound sand ... really, really hard!
However, since I did it during an extended lunch break, I had zero time to blog today. Good thing 'cause I had no clue what to blog about.
I'm home tomorrow with the baby. She and I will patiently wait for the DirecTV person to show and install our dish. After that, phase two of operation Eliminate Comcast wil be complete. I hope the poor kid doesn't get too bored being home with me. I know lots of moms stay home with their children and that's great because that's what their children are used to. My child is used to going to school. Tomorrow is gymnastics. She's loves gymnastics. I feel bad having her stay home. But then I think maybe a little mommy/daughter downtime will be cool.
We shall see.
At least I'm one step closer to telling Comcast to go pound sand ... really, really hard!
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Phase one of operation Eliminate Comcast complete
Verizon came out today and my phone has been switched.
Phase two: have DirecTV installed.
This will be completed Thursday.
Phase three: get my DSL hooked up
This phase is the trickiest. The order for my DSL was placed on 10/11. As per a Verizon rep, my DSL should be on by 11/3.
????
I always thought it was like a switch flipping task. My bad. I guess there is much more involved in adding something that, for the most part, has all necessary equipment sans modem already in place. Speaking of which, I should be getting the modem in a week.
Once all three phases have been complete, it will finally be time to say "buh-bye" to the evil Comcast empire.
Phase two: have DirecTV installed.
This will be completed Thursday.
Phase three: get my DSL hooked up
This phase is the trickiest. The order for my DSL was placed on 10/11. As per a Verizon rep, my DSL should be on by 11/3.
????
I always thought it was like a switch flipping task. My bad. I guess there is much more involved in adding something that, for the most part, has all necessary equipment sans modem already in place. Speaking of which, I should be getting the modem in a week.
Once all three phases have been complete, it will finally be time to say "buh-bye" to the evil Comcast empire.
Another 48 hour break
Geo has one of his WWII doohickey thingers this weekend. Loosely interpretted, I will have the weekend to myself. Well, me and the baby will be hanging out together.
I mentioned this in passing on the phone to my mother. She already has my Saturday booked. I never even had a chance. She jumped on that like a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat.
I'm not sure, but I swear a could hear her sharpening her credit cards on a grinding stone.
I mentioned this in passing on the phone to my mother. She already has my Saturday booked. I never even had a chance. She jumped on that like a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat.
I'm not sure, but I swear a could hear her sharpening her credit cards on a grinding stone.
The Seven Wonder meme
Oh look, another meme opportunity. Again, this comes courtesy of the now New Yorker soon to be Californian, NYPaganChick. This one was actually a bit more difficult to complete than I first anticipated.
Precursor:
Things I plan to do are what I want to accomplish in the next two years. I was going to list under things that scare me clowns but they just creep me out.
7 Things I Plan To Do:
1. Get married ... finally!
2. Get our finances in order
3. Move the hell out of Philly
4. Start exercising again (I used to be fanatical about it)
5. Learn to play the guitar
6. Purchase and learn to use a sewing machine
7. Learn American Sign Language
7 Things I Can Do:
1. Talk like Alvin, Simon, and Theodore (what a talent)
2. Math
3. Cook, but not bake
4. Solve wrought-iron bar puzzles (e.g., remove the ring from the two horseshoes)
5. Fine arts (i.e., sculpting, painting, drawing)
6. Ice skate, but not rollerblade (that's also a "plan to do" item)
7. Recite the preamble to the US Constitution (yeah, School House Rocks)
7 Things I Can't Do:
1. Juggle
2. Whistle really loud using my finger and thumb
3. Dance
4. Ski (water or snow) or skateboard
5. Drink hard liquor
6. Run (long story but I really don't know how to)
7. Sing (dogs for miles around howl in unison)
7 Things That Scare Me:
1. Bridges
2. Deep water
3. Losing my child
4. Large objects (i.e., cargo ships in the water, blimps, etc)
5. Heights
6. Anything evil (not church devil evil, but The Exorcist evil or evil spirit evil)
7. Flying on airplanes (just the taking off and landing bit)
7 Random Facts About Me:
1. I love reading especially sci-fi and fantasy books, but I hate romance novels
2. I was a widow at 33
3. My favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla bean
4. I love eating spicy hot food
5. I used to smoke (not one since may 2001)
6. I was adopted
7. I love cars especially muscle cars of the 60's and early 70's
7 Things I Say The Most:
1. Nope, didn't hear a word you said (or "Nope, not a clue")
2. Alright!
3. Really?
4. Well then ...
5. I see
6. And your point?
7. Good job!
Tag 7 People:
I tag:
No one. I honestly can't think of seven people I wish to torture with this. Do it if you want.
Precursor:
Things I plan to do are what I want to accomplish in the next two years. I was going to list under things that scare me clowns but they just creep me out.
7 Things I Plan To Do:
1. Get married ... finally!
2. Get our finances in order
3. Move the hell out of Philly
4. Start exercising again (I used to be fanatical about it)
5. Learn to play the guitar
6. Purchase and learn to use a sewing machine
7. Learn American Sign Language
7 Things I Can Do:
1. Talk like Alvin, Simon, and Theodore (what a talent)
2. Math
3. Cook, but not bake
4. Solve wrought-iron bar puzzles (e.g., remove the ring from the two horseshoes)
5. Fine arts (i.e., sculpting, painting, drawing)
6. Ice skate, but not rollerblade (that's also a "plan to do" item)
7. Recite the preamble to the US Constitution (yeah, School House Rocks)
7 Things I Can't Do:
1. Juggle
2. Whistle really loud using my finger and thumb
3. Dance
4. Ski (water or snow) or skateboard
5. Drink hard liquor
6. Run (long story but I really don't know how to)
7. Sing (dogs for miles around howl in unison)
7 Things That Scare Me:
1. Bridges
2. Deep water
3. Losing my child
4. Large objects (i.e., cargo ships in the water, blimps, etc)
5. Heights
6. Anything evil (not church devil evil, but The Exorcist evil or evil spirit evil)
7. Flying on airplanes (just the taking off and landing bit)
7 Random Facts About Me:
1. I love reading especially sci-fi and fantasy books, but I hate romance novels
2. I was a widow at 33
3. My favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla bean
4. I love eating spicy hot food
5. I used to smoke (not one since may 2001)
6. I was adopted
7. I love cars especially muscle cars of the 60's and early 70's
7 Things I Say The Most:
1. Nope, didn't hear a word you said (or "Nope, not a clue")
2. Alright!
3. Really?
4. Well then ...
5. I see
6. And your point?
7. Good job!
Tag 7 People:
I tag:
No one. I honestly can't think of seven people I wish to torture with this. Do it if you want.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Please stop sending these stupid e-mails
I don't mind receiving e-mails at all. It let's me know that, at least electronically, I am alive. When I used to get e-mail, I would act like Steve Martin in the "The Jerk". You know the scene - when he sees his name in the phonebook? Of course, we are talking thirteen or so years ago when giving someone your "e-mail" address was considered geeky or obnoxious. Today, you are considered archaic if you don't have an e-mail address. E-mailing has been my number one way of keeping in touch with all of my friends.
But when my friends send me certain types of e-mails I consider crap, that borders on the brink of me politely replying that I never want to hear from them again. Those e-mails would be (in no particular order of annoyance level): chain e-mails, prayer e-mails, urban legend e-mails, and cutesy pukey e-mails. My spam folder should be programmed to destroy all these e-mails. They are irritating and choke my e-mailbox's capacity. I loathe, detest, despise, abhor, disdain,and spurn all of them.
I don't care about chain e-mails. Trust me, I'll take my chances in not receiving that phone call about the job I interviewed for five years ago with the company that will graciously offer me 1,000 stock shares at par value the day before their IPO hits $100.
Prayer e-mails? No offense, but stop using my ISP like a church. If God wants to talk to me that bad, I doubt if it would be via a "God loves you" e-mail. He'll just set a bush in my backyard on fire.
And enough with the e-mails about how Swiffer Wet Jet causes doggie and kittie degenerative liver disease. It doesn't!! For God's sake, you have access to the net! Look it up! Here, I'll help you - Snopes.
Happy bluebirds and dancing mice are so sweet and adrable. And the e-mails that bring me such cute animated hopping rodents can be over 2 or 3 MB. And some of my e-mailboxes have limited capacity; hence, those huge e-mails suck up too much space. So if I don't get an e-mail I might be looking for because someone thought I needed cheering up and sent me an e-mail loaded with bouncing friggin pumpkins, that someone is going to get a nasty reply!
Thank you. I'm feeling much better now.
But when my friends send me certain types of e-mails I consider crap, that borders on the brink of me politely replying that I never want to hear from them again. Those e-mails would be (in no particular order of annoyance level): chain e-mails, prayer e-mails, urban legend e-mails, and cutesy pukey e-mails. My spam folder should be programmed to destroy all these e-mails. They are irritating and choke my e-mailbox's capacity. I loathe, detest, despise, abhor, disdain,and spurn all of them.
I don't care about chain e-mails. Trust me, I'll take my chances in not receiving that phone call about the job I interviewed for five years ago with the company that will graciously offer me 1,000 stock shares at par value the day before their IPO hits $100.
Prayer e-mails? No offense, but stop using my ISP like a church. If God wants to talk to me that bad, I doubt if it would be via a "God loves you" e-mail. He'll just set a bush in my backyard on fire.
And enough with the e-mails about how Swiffer Wet Jet causes doggie and kittie degenerative liver disease. It doesn't!! For God's sake, you have access to the net! Look it up! Here, I'll help you - Snopes.
Happy bluebirds and dancing mice are so sweet and adrable. And the e-mails that bring me such cute animated hopping rodents can be over 2 or 3 MB. And some of my e-mailboxes have limited capacity; hence, those huge e-mails suck up too much space. So if I don't get an e-mail I might be looking for because someone thought I needed cheering up and sent me an e-mail loaded with bouncing friggin pumpkins, that someone is going to get a nasty reply!
Thank you. I'm feeling much better now.
The masses have spoken
and the K beat the C by a big ole margin!
And so it is decreed and shall remain maidink.
And so it is decreed and shall remain maidink.
And she napped through the whole thing
Short version - It took me 2 and half hours to get to work this morning - a commute which normally takes one hour fifteen minutes.
Long version - It was hell with gas fumes. First there was the accident at 611 and Old Welsh Road. That is the back way I take to get to the PA Turnpike. Geo called me at 6:45 with that little tidbit of info.
"You might not want to go that way this morning since we all know how drivers from Philly are around accidents."
Oh too true. In a city where sirens and accidents are about as common as soft pretzels and rabid sports fans, we Philadelphians just love rubbernecking. Any accident is an immediate invite to go from 55 MPH to 5 MPH in .07 seconds. It could be a bumper kiss and we have to slow down to see if there is any blood or gore. For the love of all that is sacred, it's a friggin accident! You can't swing a dead cat around this city without hitting a possible accident site. It's not like Jessica Simpson or Brad Pitt is walking naked down the street! That is a rubbernecking moment!
Rearranging the morning drive, I went up Route One to get on the Turnpike. I'm not even five miles into the drive when I hear the words "mess", "update", and "turnpike" on the radio. I was nowhere near the turnpike on-ramp and I couldn't slam a bitch to go back the other way. I was stuck in my lane, I have my 2 year old in the backseat, I was about to go sit in traffic for Heaven knew how long, and there wasn't a thing I could do.
Crap.
Then came the news on the twos.
Not only was there an accident on the turnpike at the Norristown interchange, it involved a motorcycle and there was a medivac helicopter en route to pick up the motorcycle driver. THAT is a rubberneck worthy accident. And all of it was on the westbound side ... MY SIDE. Wheeeeee!! I was more screwed than a drunk cheerleader at football kegger.
I got out the iPod, plugged in the FM transmitter, and clicked my DMB 75 song mix into shuffle. Scary part was I feared going through the whole set before I got to work.
How's the baby at this point? Completely unconscious in the backseat. She had the rat in one hand and a balloon clutched in the other. She insisted on taking to school this balloon she got yesterday at the Dollar General just for being a cute little kid. She squealed and squeaked with joy over this stupid balloon. Heck, it makes her happy and it was free - no complaints. And there she was, snoring like a buzzsaw with her little purple balloon.
I wish I had a buzzsaw to cut through the traffic. It was pure stop and go from Route One all the way to the accident site.
But wait, here's the funny part. There was another accident in the same location and this time it was on the eastbound side. Not one. Not two. Three mothereffin tractor trailers were involved. With liquid spillage. Of diesel. And gas. And milk. In a cattle chute. With no shoulder. The traffic on the eastbound side was literally jammed to a halt. No one, I mean NO ONE, could get by - not even the wrecker trucks to get the damn accident out of the chute. Guar-an-teed the westbound side was gonna rubberneck on this one. My heart truly went out to anyone sitting behind that mess (I had been there before). Okay, it wasn't funny.
I jumped off the PA Tpke and took the back roads the rest of the way to the baby's school.
By the time I made it to the school, the Dinks woke up - all bright eyed and bushy tailed! Almost two hours of naptime brought to her courtesy of the PA Turnpike.
And I only listened to eight songs of my DMB mix.
Long version - It was hell with gas fumes. First there was the accident at 611 and Old Welsh Road. That is the back way I take to get to the PA Turnpike. Geo called me at 6:45 with that little tidbit of info.
"You might not want to go that way this morning since we all know how drivers from Philly are around accidents."
Oh too true. In a city where sirens and accidents are about as common as soft pretzels and rabid sports fans, we Philadelphians just love rubbernecking. Any accident is an immediate invite to go from 55 MPH to 5 MPH in .07 seconds. It could be a bumper kiss and we have to slow down to see if there is any blood or gore. For the love of all that is sacred, it's a friggin accident! You can't swing a dead cat around this city without hitting a possible accident site. It's not like Jessica Simpson or Brad Pitt is walking naked down the street! That is a rubbernecking moment!
Rearranging the morning drive, I went up Route One to get on the Turnpike. I'm not even five miles into the drive when I hear the words "mess", "update", and "turnpike" on the radio. I was nowhere near the turnpike on-ramp and I couldn't slam a bitch to go back the other way. I was stuck in my lane, I have my 2 year old in the backseat, I was about to go sit in traffic for Heaven knew how long, and there wasn't a thing I could do.
Crap.
Then came the news on the twos.
Not only was there an accident on the turnpike at the Norristown interchange, it involved a motorcycle and there was a medivac helicopter en route to pick up the motorcycle driver. THAT is a rubberneck worthy accident. And all of it was on the westbound side ... MY SIDE. Wheeeeee!! I was more screwed than a drunk cheerleader at football kegger.
I got out the iPod, plugged in the FM transmitter, and clicked my DMB 75 song mix into shuffle. Scary part was I feared going through the whole set before I got to work.
How's the baby at this point? Completely unconscious in the backseat. She had the rat in one hand and a balloon clutched in the other. She insisted on taking to school this balloon she got yesterday at the Dollar General just for being a cute little kid. She squealed and squeaked with joy over this stupid balloon. Heck, it makes her happy and it was free - no complaints. And there she was, snoring like a buzzsaw with her little purple balloon.
I wish I had a buzzsaw to cut through the traffic. It was pure stop and go from Route One all the way to the accident site.
But wait, here's the funny part. There was another accident in the same location and this time it was on the eastbound side. Not one. Not two. Three mothereffin tractor trailers were involved. With liquid spillage. Of diesel. And gas. And milk. In a cattle chute. With no shoulder. The traffic on the eastbound side was literally jammed to a halt. No one, I mean NO ONE, could get by - not even the wrecker trucks to get the damn accident out of the chute. Guar-an-teed the westbound side was gonna rubberneck on this one. My heart truly went out to anyone sitting behind that mess (I had been there before). Okay, it wasn't funny.
I jumped off the PA Tpke and took the back roads the rest of the way to the baby's school.
By the time I made it to the school, the Dinks woke up - all bright eyed and bushy tailed! Almost two hours of naptime brought to her courtesy of the PA Turnpike.
And I only listened to eight songs of my DMB mix.
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