Oh my "H"

"Mother....lover".  "Son  of a .....bisquit".  Stupid piece of.....shi".  "Unbe....freakingleivable".  And my favorite, "how the haetch is this happening to me"?  

All are things either being mumbled or screamed in my apartment tonight.

My stupid mother - loving sewing machine is a piece of shat that I can't take anymore.  

Now to those who harp with the utmost virtue that substituting swear words is still bad or even worse, to those who think you just sound stupid when you substitute like-sounding words for the real ones: FU.   I would so much rather yell "you MOTHER LOVING PIECE OF PISS" while around others then use the real deal.   It is just not very lady like and to be honest I'd rather save up me swears for a truly deserving bar brawl - should it ever come along. 

I just don't know what else to say.  I'm not a sewer, I don't particularly gain any real glee from throwing something together other than the wind sock I made in Junior high because that thing truly danced in the wind.  But I decided that since I no longer have a grandma to exploit I have to do the darning and mending myself.   I pulled out the sewing machine my mom gifted me 2 years ago and I just can't do anything right.  It is dirty inside and making all the thread gray and greasy so I opened it and took it apart and cleaned it.  Verdict:  thread still dirty.  It was sewing all fine and dandy and dirty until I decided to sew an actual garment and the bottom thread keeps getting clogged.  Verdict: immovable needle due to thread tangle below.  I cleaned out the bottom thread and reset the two threads.  Verdict:  thread clogged again.

I'm at my wits end.  I know a lot of this is human error on my part but c'mon.  I gave up and walked away tonight and left everything where it was.  

And now I'm afraid to open my mouth because the only thing ready and willing to come out is fake swear words.  Humiliation.

Thus I have tried blog therapy and I'm hoping this will work or I may never sew again.  At the very least, not around children.  I just can't clean up this fake potty mouth.

Anti-dentite

I'm so mad at my Dentist (may he R.I.P.), but not really.  I love my dentist.  Sometimes I feel like the deranged girlfriend of my dentist and I hate it.  In my head I still picture us together on center st. in Orem just looking out the window and rinsing with fluoride just like he taught me.  I miss the small talk we used to have throughout the years about what year in school I was and we both couldn't believe how big I was getting.  I was there through the boring years when you just had to stare at the ceiling and rejoiced for my dentist when he had televisions installed in each cube and you could watch pictures of people's before and after smiles.  Sure, we had our ugly moments involving cavities and lectures on flossing more, but he always left me with a goodie bag to let me know he cared.  

Then one day I fell off the insurance wagon and suddenly he wanted to charge me money to let me see him.  Money to let me see him!  We had been together for soo long.  Didn't he care if I got gingivitis suddenly?  Or what about a root canal?  Would he only care if I payed him everything in my savings bank?  I wanted to counter with "but we have your daughters wedding announcement on our refrigerator!!!  How many patients can you say that about?  Huh?  Huh?!".  But I couldn't do it.  I was forced to wait behind a desk and communicate second hand through the receptionist. 

And the worst part was that I could still see a peek of the world I had been tossed out of without so much of a glance.  There they were, all the blessed patients happily being buffed and flossed in their cubicles of light never knowing that I had ever been there.  We used to be a family my dentist and I.  We never had doors and he kept all the pictures we ever took together.  I couldn't bear it any longer so I skipped town...permanently. 

And today I was reminded of the insurance restraining order I had back in Utah as I waited 2 1/2 hours to see a Dental student at the free clinic at Ricky's school.   Oh the fall from grace.  The indignity!  I used to get right in.  They expected me.  This time I had to wait until I was finally admitted and then they took my blood pressure and weighed me and finally poked my sensitive tooth with an ice pick to make sure it was still alive.  It was and it... hurt.  It hurt almost as bad as missing my dentist.  But it is I who will have the last laugh when I show up next month on center st. in Orem and demand that he fix me up for free - or at the very least for very, very cheap because this whole mess was his fault.  

I guess he figured if he couldn't clean my teeth then no one else could, so he messed up on purpose just to see me again.  

Oh Mr. Dentist...you shouldn't have (giggle).

Summer love

I'm currently obsessed with bathing suits.  Ever since I discovered the a one piece can be flattering that is all I want to wear.  I have spent so many years feeling kind of comfortable in my bathing suits and now I feel like I have a new lease on life!  It sounds so silly but now I want to be in my swim suit all the time.  And thanks once again to my trusty TJ Maxx I have recently acquired a new piece to add to the line up.  Finally I can look the part of the pin-up girls I have always wanted to be:

  

It's the glamorous, the flossy, flossy.  I'm still having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that my dearly beloved tankinis will probably be laid to rest this summer and maybe every summer thereafter.  But they've had their day in the sun...pun intended.  I've done a complete 180 from the low rise jeans and tank tops of my first youth and now during my second youth I am purposely shopping at stores I NEVER would have gone in because they were "mom stores".  In fact, I went into New York and Co. the other day for the first time and walked out with the best fitting pair of white pants I have ever tried on.  No kidding!  White pants!!  I feel completely changed and electrified and it seems my future is so bright I've gotta wear shades (big Armani ones with gold sides).

  

Bird flu

I don't get it.  If you wouldn't put it on your shirt, why would you put it somewhere else?

And if you would wear it on your shirt then I know where you can get it.

Yo voutre un nap

I think I need to call my mom and ask her if she used to put me on the washing machine to get me to fall asleep.  I have problems falling asleep in my own bed but I cannot resist the lull of the airplane.  Just like a cobra being seduced by the haunting notes of the flute I too am seduced by the oxygen being pumped in and all the white noise.  I absolutely cannot stay awake.  I literally mean I cannot stay awake.  

BTW, does anyone think the pillow in this picture is ridiculous?  That is a ginormous pillow to carry-on.  Just wear a shirt that says "hey, I'm really old and only concerned about comfort at the expense of looking like a du-fuss".

  It has just gotten worse over the years.  I used to sleep a little here and there and it has gradually slipped into falling asleep before the plane even leaves it's dock.  I have woken up before and been confused that we were already cruising high above the clouds because I don't remember taking off.  And today we flew from Chicago to Phoenix and I fell asleep right on schedule before the take-off and besides a few position changes I woke up to the captain telling us we were beginning our final descent into Phoenix.  I could not believe I slept the whole time.  I slept about 3 hours on the plane without even knowing.  

What is to become of me?  If my rate of falling asleep continues to rise and the trips don't get any longer then the numbers say I am in trouble.  Will I fall asleep now before I even buckle my seat belt?  Will I drool on the business man next to me?  What if I sleep walk on the plane?  Someone could rob me so easily.  I mean, I was sleeping on Ricky's shoulder while he was furiously playing DDR on his phone and I didn't know it.  In my own bed if so much as his toe wanders over I wake up and yell until he moves it.  

I think I must have aviation narcolepsy.  And I'm sure there are a number of other people in German parliament who suffer from this as well.  Am I alone here?

Editors note:  Be aware that when I googled "sleeping on a plane" in the images there were TONS of pictures that people had taken of random strangers sleeping on the plane.  We could ALL be out there somewhere with our mouths open.....