Even after the year I’ve had… still so much thankfulness

 

I originally posted this on Facebook, but a friend suggested I put it here too since I have the most wonderful blogging family EVER!!!! πŸ™‚ I totally agreed, as I love you guys to no end. So, here goes. πŸ™‚

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I know it’s past Thanksgiving, but I’ve never really followed the rules for anything anyway. I have some things I want to let everybody know that I’m thankful for, and so much of it has to do with all of you.

I am so very deeply thankful for all of the love, kindness and support my friends here have shown me. It’s so easy for social media to be a place filled with nothing but political banter, disagreements, and or superficial–but very often still funny–types of things.

What I have found this year is it is also a place filled with love and prayers and people who come out of the woodwork to truly let you know that they love you and only want the best for you. That has meant more to me than I can ever begin to express.

I am also incredibly thankful that I’ve been able to return that love to so many of my friends that are having a very rough time of it lately. Whether you’re in emotional pain, physical pain, or both (which is likely the case), being able to let you know that I love you and that I truly am here for you brings me great peace. From the bottom of my heart I mean it when I tell people that they can call me and just cry for an hour, or just sit in silence for an hour knowing someone is on the other end of the phone if they do decide to talk. Hell, I’ll watch a TV show with you over the phone. Or you can just scream and yell cuss words at me until you can’t utter another word because your throat is sore. I truly mean with every fiber of my being that those of you who are going through hard times can call me and do any of those things.

It may have been many years since I’ve seen a lot of you, and we may not have even been close in high school or at a job or wherever it is that we met. Heck, we may not have actually ever met in person, but we’re here now, together, and to me that is what matters.

I’m also so very thankful to my family for supporting me through the last 10 and a half months. That my husband tells me I’m beautiful, even though I’ve lost 75% of my hair and gained a shit ton of weight from not being able to do anything, including walking, for almost a year just blows my mind. And the anazing thing is, I believe him. To know that the man you’ve chosen to spend your life with truly cherishes you is the best gift anyone can ever give or receive. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’d be thrilled if I lost 40 lbs, and I know he’ll be happy for me when my hair grows back in, but in the meantime he does nothing but support me and lets me know that he loves me regardless of any of that superficial bullshit. That’s such a gift and I can never express my gratitude enough for loving a man who loves me for me, not for me as arm candy, or a bank account, or any of the other reasons so many men have been with me over the years. He loves me. I will forever be thankful for that.

And for those of you who grew up with me and my sister, the very beautiful and loving Becky, you’ll know that she and I had our ups and downs as we grew up. It’s hard being so close in age when you’re a teenager and then your twenties and unfortunately tend to attract and be attracted to the same types of men. God knows it caused a verbal cat fight more than once. But my precious, angelic sister has truly become my best friend. She lets me call her anytime night or day and never makes me feel like a burden.

When Becky was here taking care of me after surgery, she was the most amazing medical advocate for me. She took no shit off anybody and made sure I got the best care possible. When you’re as fucked up as I’ve been, you need somebody strong to have your back. And Becky was that. She never made me feel embarrassed for the hideous things she had to see and do. God bless her for that. She can never unsee the things she had to deal with and yet she’s never made me feel bad or humiliated. She just took it all in stride and made sure that I knew that she loved me and she would do anything for me. That kind of love is simply amazing and I’m so truly blessed for all of that.

While I still have a long way to go to get back to normal, and it may still be a few years before I have enough emotional energy to be a truly good friend in the way that I like to be, what I’m thankful for is that the people who love me understand that I don’t hibernate because I don’t love them or don’t want to talk to them. I don’t hibernate to avoid being a good friend. If 95% of you called me tomorrow and told me you needed me to be on a plane to come take care of you, I would be on that plane. But what is such a beautiful thing is that the people who know me understand that my keeping to myself is me just licking my wounds and trying to heal my brain, my heart, and my body. Plus they say it takes about 3 years, if ever, to feel normal again after severe sepsis, so thank God everyone seems to understand that me not leaving the house to go party has nothing to do with not wanting to see my beautiful friends. It just has to do with me taking time to heal so that when I am back on my feet I’m going to kick ass from here to Maryland and back… Taking no prisoners!

I do realize I should have probably just written a fucking book as this is about the length of one, but it’s 4:32 in the damn morning and I felt like telling everybody how deeply, deeply thankful I am for all of you.

I know I often say things in my comments like “much love,” or “tons of hugs,” or “XOXOXOXO.” And it may seem like just the way I sign off on my comments. But I really mean it. I have so much love in my heart for so very many of you and I just want you to know it. So I will tell you that over and over and over again so that there’s never any question about how I feel.

In closing, finally (right????), know that I do love you guys and I am so very thankful that you are in my life, and that you take the time to show me love means more to me than you could ever possibly know.

May God bless every single one of you and take care of your every need. I love you all so much. If you ever need me, I’m here.

LOVE YOU GUYS!!! Have a very Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and every other happy sentiment I can send you! πŸ™‚ XOXOXOXXO

The Truth Behind the Facade

Hello, my darling friends.

I shared this video (with the egregious freezy face) on Facebook tonight and from the emails I got it seemed to help some people through their own hard times. So, I thought I’d post it here too.

Miss you all so much! Tons of love…

For those of you who suffer…mentally…physically or both, this is for you.

This is me at my most vulnerable and sharing something I NEVER thought I’d share, but it’s important for me to let everyone else who is in pain, in whatever way, know that you are not alone. I am here for you. Call me. Text me. Email me. Cry, scream, vent or sit in silence on the phone with me. We can watch a movie together over the phone. If you need someone who understands your fear, your anger, your pain, your desperation, your exhaustion…I’m here.

God bless and much love to you all, including the amazing people who help take care of us during our darkest hours. Your job is so very hard and so very appreciated. Love you all!

 

PS: What a HIDEOUS FREEZY-FACE! Really, they couldn’t pick something that looked even slightly less stupid???? πŸ˜‰

Good Grief! The Things I Overhear While Getting a Pedicure!

Shocked Kitty

This was me, getting my toes spruced up, while laying there in stark horror!

Now, you know I always have fun when getting a pedicure. It’s either entertaining because they scald/maul/slice me to death or because someone around me is outta control funny. This time, it was the funny.

Here are some snippets of conversations overheard while getting my little toesies buffed:

  1. I don’t know why, but I love the smell of rotten feet. If I did pedicures for a living like you, I wouldn’t let anyone wash their feet first. (HOLY SHIT CAKES!! That one about made me puke in my mouth!)
  2. Genital warts ain’t so bad. Just try not to let the lights be too bright so that no one can see ’em. (Oh. My. God.)
  3. I peed myself. No seriously, I actually peed myself. It got all over the car seat. I’m guessing there won’t be a date number 2. (I about peed myself!)
  4. My mom asked me last week how to give a blow job. I wanted to kill myself. (Ummmm…uhhh…yeah.)
  5. Girl 1: “Does my ass look fat in these pants? I should never wear white.” Girl 2: “Your ass looks HUGE in those pants. When we leave here we should burn them in the parking lot. You’d look better walking around in your underwear.” (With friends like that…!!! To Girl 1’s credit, she did laugh her voluptuous ass off when her friend said that.)
  6. This one from a guy on the phone: “Yeah man, I keep telling her that she’ll get used to it. I love the smell. Why can’t she just get over it and quit barking at me? My farts smell great.” (I swear I wanted to get up and pound him with a hammer. NO ONE’S colon smells good, you dolt!)
  7. I need a line of blow. (Seriously??? Where people can hear you? Decorum, my friend. Decorum.)
  8. Girl on phone: “Last night I ate a whole large pizza plus an order of garlic bread.” …. “Yeah, about 15 minutes later.” … “It went everywhere! All over the sheets. All over him. It was so gross.” (Good God almighty. I gather that she puked all over the place while doing the dirty? That poor guy!!)
  9. Why do I get so many eye boogers? It’s like my eyes have a cold. I have eyeball snot factories. Gross. (Yep, gross. Though I have to admit I used to love looking at eye boogers under a microscope. Fascinating.) πŸ™‚
  10. And the creme de la creme: I only have 9 fingers. Do I get a discount on a full set of acrylics. (Nope. So not kidding!)

I always find it shockingly funny when in the course of 2 hours I get to hear so many different kinds of bat shit crazy stuff!!! I spent the entire time laughing my ass off. Yep, just another trip into Crazy Town on a Saturday afternoon!

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Can a pedicure be a cluster f*ck? Worst fear realized!

The answer is YES. A pedicure can double as both a cluster fuck and a Guantanamo torture session. I learned this lesson just tonight and I promise to be a good girl from now on if the universe promises to never do that to me again.

First, let me set the stage. I’m not a candy ass. I’m a pretty tough chick with a fairly high threshold for pain. So, before you think, “What a baby!” know that I’m one hard bitch. πŸ˜‰

Second, for those of you who’ve not had a pedicure, this is how it is described in the spa brochure: Relax your feet in a therapeutic, aromatic soak of warm, bubbling water before your nails and cuticles are gently and expertly groomed. The soles of your feet will be delicately buffed to silky softness and your lower legs and feet exfoliated during a relaxing and delightful massage. The finishing touch is your choice of polish color and a one-of-a-kind, artistic design to compliment your pretty feet. Wow! That sounds pretty damn good, right? WHO THE FUCK WOULD HAVE THOUGHT???!!!

So, I stroll my tired feet and half-polished toes into the spa prepared for an hour of delightful relaxation. I have a Starbucks in one hand and the massage chair controller in the other and I’m ready to be pampered. Here’s how it goes from there.

  1. I prepare to put my feet into the pedicure basin, which is so pretty. It has a rotating LED light in it so it turns all these pretty colors and lights up the bubbles. Ahhhh… In they go. FUCK MOTHER FUCKER FUCK FUCK! I yank those suckers out as fast as I can because the water was not hot, it was just this side of boiling. Water droplets went flying everywhere and when a few landed on my pedicurist she hollered, “Ouch!” Yep, even after traveling through the cool evening air, the water was still hot enough to burn her when it landed on her arm. As I looked at my scalded feet there were red splotches all over them all the way up to just past my ankle. Yep, that shit hurt like a mo fo.
  2. After she drains the cauldron and adds normal-hot water to it, I stick my feet in (now, of course, they are tender and overly susceptible to sensation), lean back and relax. She takes my right foot from the water, sets it up on the foot perch, removes the mostly missing nail polish and then starts manicuring my cuticles. Sounds good, right? NO! She attacked my feet with those nippers like she was being paid for every drop of blood she leached out of my toes. With one deft move she dug under my big toenail, pulled the razor-sharp nipper across to the top edge of my nail and yanked it out of the cuticle. WHAT THE HELL!!! I can only assume it’s some trick to make sure you don’t get ingrown toenails, but with the onslaught of blood I’m guessing she did not do it correctly. (For those of you who previously read my post about my biggest fear on earth being kicking my pedicurist in the face, know that my knee-jerk reaction almost realized this fear. I’m going to call it the “twitchy foot” so that I can easily refer to it throughout this post as it happened quite a few times.)
  3. Now that I’m bleeding, she digs into her kit and pulls out what must be a bottle of salt mixed with acid and applies that to my bloodied toe. SON OF A BITCH! (Twitchy foot.)
  4. Once I stopped crying (on the inside) she continued torturing, I mean, cutting my cuticles until there was no skin left on my toes.
  5. Then comes time for the callous remover. Now, keep in mind you pay EXTRA for this. I paid her to do this to me. She put the callous removing lotion all over the bottom of my feet and then started shaving off my skin. Yes, shaving. SHAVING! Which is fine as long she pays attention to what she’s doing. Alas… at that very moment there infiltrates my nose a smell that is a combination of burning wood and rotten eggs. What in the unholy fuckin’ hell is that stench!!!!??? Then I see the woman in the seat next to me with a mortified look on her face. Yep, she dealt the lethal anal air blast and now realized that the smell was worse than burning flesh. Good gracious God. I thought I was going to choke to death. And lucky for me, the smell not only distracted me from my boiled and bleeding feet, but it distracted my darling pedicurist who got into a loud and raucous conversation (in another language) with the pedicurist doing the feet of Fart Woman and while not at all watching what she was doing sheared off a slice of my heel that had my twitchy foot jumping all over the place. Somehow I managed not to kick her in the fuckin’ head, but it was a struggle. I didn’t see any blood drip (yet) so I thought, “Eh, fuck it, I’ll stick it out. How much more damage can she do?” What a dumb ass I am.
  6. Finally, the skin shaving is over (it was like some scene out of Criminal Minds for God’s sake!) and she places my feet back in the water-filled basin. FUUUUUUUCK!!!! Where I was missing skin from the razor debacle the hot, soapy water burned like someone was branding me with a cattle branding thingy (I don’t know what the fuck those things are called…a branding iron maybe?). Again, I got me the twitchy foot.
  7. Okay, so now it’s time for the salt scrub (again, I pay extra for this) which I dearly love getting–any kind of rubby massage is my idea of heaven. But apparently, Mrs. Fart inspired my pedicurist and her neighboring pedicurist to engage in a fun and jovial conversation that was seemingly without end and again she is distracted and not even looking vaguely in my direction as she begins. So, as she applies the gritty, chunky salt to my right leg she’s so swept up in giggling that she forgets to add water to the mix and starts grinding the flesh off of my leg with what feels like the roughest sand paper ever. This SUCKED! It did not feel good, but to be quite honest, at this point the pain was actually starting to get funny. I just kept thinking that it couldn’t keep going on and on and getting worse and worse. Again, I’m a stupid fuck. After about 3 of the longest minutes of my life she realizes that she’s not added any water grim reaper(though she sure as shit added more salt) and adds a bit of water. Whew… that must be what it feels like when giving birth and the baby finally comes the fuck out. Such relief that the worst of the pain is over. Oh, how could I have neglected to mention that the water-free salt scrub probably wouldn’t have been SO damn agonizing if she didn’t have the bony fingers of Death itself. It was like being massaged by the Grim Reaper. Her fingers were small razors of pain.
  8. At last, we are coming towards the end of this and so far I have yet to kick her, call her a bad name or outwardly cry. Total miracle, my friends. Total miracle. As she starts wiping down my legs with a warm towel (mmm…something finally didn’t hurt like hell) I start to relax and then BAM! She does some kind of finger snapping thing on my toes and cracks my baby toe knuckle. Yep. That was it. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I HATE HAVING MY KNUCKLES CRACKED! I lost all control over my foot and where it went and I snapped it away from her as fast as my lizard brain could and missed kicking her in the face by maybe a half a centimeter. Yep. Worst fear realized. She just missed a broken nose. I didn’t do it on purpose. It was like when the doctor taps your knee with the hammer to test your reactions. You can’t help but kick out your leg. That’s what happened to me. I’d been boiled, bled-out, and sliced with a razor. I’d had my leg skin removed with a salt/sand paper massage and suffered through the worst smelling butt assault in recorded history. And dammit, my survival instinct FINALLY kicked in and I kicked out. Good news is that I didn’t make contact–but just by the hair of my chinny chin chin. So, when she asked me moments later if I wanted her to paint a design on my toe I of course agreed out of horror for almost having broken her face. I paid $10 for this:

My poor, poor toes

Do you see a beautiful design? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Is there ten dollars worth of design on my big toe nails? NO! She covered up most of the design (6 stripes of black paint–yep, that is just so special and beautiful and custom and artistic) with the sparkly top coat I had requested and assumed like a fool would go under the design like it has 5,000,000 times before. And I’m not sure if you can tell, but the edges of my big toes are all red and inflamed where she, well, killed them. Ultimately, this pedicure ended up costing me a fortune and I left gimpy, bloody, smelling of chick farts and wanting to die.

Here’s what I think about their pedicure description: Relax your feet in a therapeutic, aromatic soak of warm, bubbling water (LIE! SCALDING IS NOT RELAXING!) before your nails and cuticles are gently and expertly groomed (LIE! BLOOD DOES NOT EQUAL GENTLY, NOR DOES IT EQUAL EXPERTLY). The soles of your feet will be delicately buffed (WITH A RAZOR AND ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE BONE) to silky softness (EXPOSED MUSCLE IS NOT SILKY SOFT) and your lower legs and feet exfoliated (SKIN REMOVAL TO THIS EXTENT IS NOT EXFOLIATION, IT’S WHAT ANCIENT TRIBES USED TO DO BEFORE EATING YOU) during a relaxing and delightful massage (THE CRYPT KEEPER DOES NOT GIVE RELAXING AND DELIGHTFUL MASSAGES). The finishing touch is your choice of polish color (THE ONLY TRUE PART OF THIS BLASPHEME) and a one-of-a-kind, artistic design (REALLY? REALLY? 6 BLACK STRIPES YOU CAN BARELY EVEN SEE QUALIFY AS THIS??) to compliment your pretty (BLOODY AND SORE) feet.

Good gracious Lord…I think I need a drink. πŸ™‚

PS: Forgive any typos. My nails are way too long and I can’t type worth a shit, but I was not about to let her have at my hands after all of this!!! πŸ˜‰

TOO MUCH MO FO’n TRAVEL!!!!!

Thank God in Heaven that I’m FINALLY back in my damn house!!! I miss my house!!! I’ve been traveling for the last three weeks with only my day job computer (I ain’t carrying around 2 damn computers!), which I am quite hesitant to use for personal stuff, and I feel disconnected from the world!!! I’ve missed you guys!

First and foremost, may I say, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza and Happy Anything Else I Missed! I love me some holidays!!! I hope that you are all having a blessed and relaxing holiday season. Oh, and if this post has typos, blame it on my fingernails. I got them done (a new acrylic set) for the WGN taping (airing soon–apparently it was quite festive, so they are going to air it closer to Christmas/New Years) and I can’t friggin’ type to save my life!!

On a completely separate note, a while ago, I promised John that I’d post pics of my holiday toenails. I paint them up every year. This year, though, I put the top coat on too soon and smeared my snowman. So, I’m going to redo him this weekend. In the meantime, here’s a pic of my ridiculous toes from last year. πŸ™‚ This year’s Christmas tree looks WAY better than the one below. I’ll post an updated pic once I get my snowman all fixed up. πŸ™‚

See! No crazy long 2nd toe! But my big toe toenail is jacked up from surgery years ago. It's all stupid looking!

See! No crazy long 2nd toe! But my big toe toenail is jacked up from surgery years ago. It’s all stupid looking!

Ummm…why do my toes look dirty and hairy? I swear, there’s just a tiny bit of fluff on them!!!

Love you guys!

Happy Holidays!!!