If there is one thing that irritates the SHIT out of me, it's hypocrisy.  I hate self-righteous losers who can't manage to climb down off of their high horses, but more than that, I hate self-righteous losers who can't manage to climb down off their high horses while they scold other people for the same offense.  It's even worse when they are scolding people who aren't even guilty.

I am easily annoyed.  But honestly, enough's enough.

Mark's on duty tonight. He has our car. But I can see our parking spot from my window, and it is not empty.

Someone has commandeered our assigned parking stall, and it freaks me out. I mean, that's just weird. Who would park in my assigned parking spot? And why? And how long do they plan on leaving their silver minivan there?


My back hurts lately. And I'm tired. I'll be heading to bed soon. Amaris beat me there.

Yesterday we went out and bought a bunch of crap to fix the place up with our household goods arriving soon. TV wall-mounts, shelves, etc. I was so excited to get things functional. It took me over a week to hang Amaris' bedroom curtains because the wall next to the window where the bracket was supposed to be installed seriously had the consistency of Papier-mâché and screws, anchors, nails, whatever all just literally FELL into the wall. It was the most irritating crap ever.

So after a week of debating, and having her brand new, beautiful curtains hang awkwardly from cabinet handles above her closet, it was while I was at the computer that I had the epiphany. I looked up and saw, to my surprise, curtain hooks. Mounted directly onto the metal window frame. Of course!

So we bought a drill. And we made holes in the window frame. And we put her curtains up with success. They look fantastic.

I was motivated last night to do the remaining DIY projects around the house. Get the brackets up on the walls to mount the TVs, hang the shelf over the computer desk for the printer to sit on, you name it. But Mark was in the mood to have a "lazy day" and we put it all off till today. Which would have been fine. Except today everything turned into a total disaster and failure.

We found a stud in our living room wall and went to drill into it for the plasma mount. But that thing is some kind of solid. We determined that it must be a metal stud. After looking it up online, we learned that mounting a heavy TV onto a metal stud is not a good idea at all. So I put the mount back into it's box, thoroughly disappointed and quite frankly upset.

On to the next project. We moved everything out of the way to hang the shelf on the wall above the computer. Only to discover that the entire wall is chock full of the same apparently metal material that our studs are made of. I am assuming this is because the wall backs up to the kitchen - specifically the area where the stove is - and I would suppose the exhaust from everyone's units above and below ours are utilizing some sort of central exhaust system encased in this wall. No shelf for me.

Finally, beaten down, I thought the bracket in Amaris' room HAD to work out. We tried two studs to no avail (those metal bastards mean business) and then I said something along the lines of... Why do I need to use a stud anyways if I have these huge-ass anchors?? So we managed to get the "huge-ass anchor" into the wall, but to my dismay when we attempted to screw the bracket into it, the anchor fell, with a clatter, into the wall. Leaving a dime-sized hole in Amaris' room.

I cried.

Seriously, can't SOMETHING go according to plan here? Are these walls doomed to be forever blank? I'm frustrated and disappointed and depressed. And, okay, we can blame a good chunk of it on my hormones, but the truth is I just wanted to have SOMETHING accomplished. And instead, I've got nothing. Nowhere to put our TV, nowhere to put the printer... The house looks exactly the same as it looked last week. Except for Amaris' curtains. Which look great.

I give up.

Today, I fully plan on getting a haircut, my eyebrows waxed, and my ball gown altered.

Wish me luck on this quest.



PS: Our neighbors think we have a dog. Give me a break.

Last night, as I was picking apart the chicken for my procrastination-friendly chicken noodle soup (we decided to have it Monday night instead of Sunday night when time got away from us and we knew Mark would have to get up at 2AM), I realized the floor was a little bit wet around my slippers.

Groan. I had just fought with the sink for like an hour to get dishes in the dishwasher. And I think at that point, the sink STILL hadn't drained from that whole ordeal. Now I get to stand in water too. Joy of joys.

I finished what I was doing, left the soup on the stove, and then Mark called to let me know he was heading home from work. Yesterday was his latest work day so far at this duty station - they kept him past 6PM! Anyways I called maintenance as soon as I got off the phone with him and told them we were having all sorts of plumbing issues. They said they'd label it emergency and send someone out ASAP, possibly even that night.

They didn't come last night. They called me this morning bright and early and said someone would be here in about 20 minutes. So I got up out of bed (for the second time - I got up and packed Mark's lunch at 2:30 this morning and got him a bowl of cereal before he left at 3) and unloaded the dishwasher, which basically served as an oversized drying rack last night after the water started flooding from the bottom. The maintenance guys got here and fiddled with the sink for a while and finally came and said it was all fixed. I hadn't heard them do anything with the dishwasher, so I said, "even the dishwasher?" "Yes, all fixed." "Oh, okay, great thanks!"

They left and I turned on the dishwasher to test them. My sink works like a dream, but sure enough, the dishwasher still leaks. I am annoyed. Maintenance sucks.

I just love all of my new white trash neighbors and their 8,000 children of the corn under 6 who all play in the hallway unsupervised and pester me every time I leave or return to my apartment. They are fantastic!!!!!

I also love and adore the pest control office whose system is (and has been for the past couple of days) down "because of the new fiscal year," and therefore won't even schedule my apartment to get bombed for the roach problem that should have been taken care of BEFORE we moved in.

So far, Okinawa rocks!!

San Antonio was awesome. We ate the famous puffy tacos, walked (and cruised) the riverwalk, did Sea World, and the Texas Pride BBQ... We had a great weekend. We also hit up a bunch of those funny, hokey tourist-trap places: the wax museum, Ripley's Believe it or Not museum... The Guinness World Records museum, the mirror maze, and Tomb Rider.

Amaris had a blast. Sea World was great. The waterpark there (Lost Lagoon) was actually a lot more fun for us than The Schlitterbahn. There was a ton of cool stuff for us to all do together.]






It was a perfect "last hurrah" for us here in Texas.






The moving process this week was not as perfect. By far. The movers sucked. Horribly. The planning was impossible and horrendous, and in general everything about it was miserable. There was no way to adequately prepare ourselves, our home, or our belongings for the shipping/storing/throwing away nightmare. Then TMO smartly scheduled both movers to appear on the SAME DAY. So there wasn't enough of Mark and me to go around and keep things in order, and the movers were constantly in each others' way. By the middle of the day, all of the movers were irritated with everything and were cutting corners to try and leave as quickly as possible. Nobody had a good attitude and everybody was unprofessional and unhappy. My storage movers tried to leave without taking my kitchen table and chairs as well as a ton of miscellaneous stuff in the living room, which they took grudgingly without properly wrapping or boxing because "we don't have any boxes." As a result they refused to "guarantee" the condition the final items would arrive in. They scratched and gouged walls and doorjambs throughout the house. And after they were long gone, we opened up a huge kitchen cabinet to find Pyrex measuring cups, ramekins, and our fondue pot, to name a few things, completely untouched. (Son of a...)

The "shipment" movers started to get annoyed when Amaris darted into her bedroom and started peeling inventory control tags off of her furniture. It all happened so quickly that I didn't even know what was happening until after she'd already done it. UGH! After that, they tried to get Mark to sign the inventory lists and I confirmed that he was aware that our giant plasma TV was functional. The driver said, "Nope. I listed it's condition as 'MCU - Mechanical Condition Unknown'." TMO warned us about this. They said we were to ensure that our expensive electronics were confirmed to be in working condition. We argued with him and he kept insisting that it was "really no big deal". Uh, yes it is. If we arrive in Okinawa and are delivered a TV that doesn't work, and we complain about it, they could say "Well, it was listed as MCU - as far as we know it was broken when we picked it up." And boom! We're screwed out of one very expensive TV that there is no way in hell we can afford to replace. We pitched a fit about it because I'd made a point to turn it on that morning so that they could see it's functionality, and finally ended up reconnecting it to show the driver that it was perfect. He then took a turn for extremely pissy, and proceeded to slam doors throughout the house, make snarky comments to us, and scratch the hell out of our driveway with his fork lift. When they left I realized they'd packed our cable modem, router, and all of the other electronics, but had left behind almost all of the power cables... Like, why would you do that?

After the movers had both left and we'd had some time to cool off, I checked our inventory sheets. Both moving companies had wrongly reported EVERY single one of our belongings to be in very poor condition. They use codes to describe the condition of each item. Everything was listed as "badly worn," "scratched," "soiled," "stained," "faded," or "rubbed." And when I say "everything," I MEAN it. Right down to things that were brand new. My golf clubs, which have seen a total of maybe 20 minutes of daylight in their existence, and are almost all still wrapped in their protective plastic, were described as "badly worn," and "faded."

I am livid.

I fully intend to write angry letters to the managers of each of the moving companies as well as TMO. The whole thing was completely unacceptable.

But I find that I am really pleased that it's over with. Even though I have a house full of miscellaneous crap that I will ultimately have to ship to myself or leave with a family member. Or throw away.

Whatever. That's my rant. Tonight we are happily in the hotel room, which is actually bigger than some apartments I've been in. And I'm looking forward to sleeping in a real live bed. And I had the room windows open to allow in the sound of evening colors and taps. Which made me happy.

Tomorrow our plan is to do absolutely nothing important. We're having some people come here so we can barbecue, and other than that we're going to just completely take it easy. Sunday we're going to hit the cleaning (and touch up painting) head on. Next week is jam-packed with appointments and to-do's. It'll be stressful, but at least we're getting a handle on things. (Sort of).

The last time I was hit on was when I lived in Fresno. I was... Oh, 17 years old or so, and was with my friend Jackie at a pool hall. This little guy came up to me, and said, "Do you like to party?"

I was caught off-guard. I said, "What??" So he repeated, "Do you like to party?" I thought it was funny. So I laughed a little bit uneasily and said, "No.."

He persisted, "So.. You don't want to go to a party with me tonight?"

"Um... No. Thanks."

"Okay, well have a nice night then."

And then he was gone. The exchange was over just like that. Up until then, every time I'd ever been 'hit on' was while I was walking from class to my car at Fresno City College. Inevitably some guy would fall into step beside me and strike up awkward conversation. I can't even remember, looking back, where these conversations went as they were so brief and so "in passing," but I do know that my 'marital status' was always brought up. And then suddenly, after learning that I was engaged, the conversation would end and I'd be left to walk the rest of the way to my car alone, chuckling to myself.

Last night we were at a party by the lake (this is where most, if not all, parties in San Angelo occur for us) and Mark was off drinking beers and socializing while I sat alone (being the vivid social butterfly that I am) text messaging my friend, Ifer. Oh how I wish that he'd learn to not leave me by myself at parties. Are there any husbands in existence who don't do this to their wives? I would love to know.

One of the guys, Doug, noticed my alone-ness and called me over to sit near him and his wife. They were about 6 feet away at a picnic table. They were talking with a guy I'd never met before. I got up, still sending a text as I did so, and sat down on the bench next to the unrecognized guy, who quickly attempted to scoot over. I then realized I was rude in "assing him over". So I said, "Oh, no, you're okay."

He said, "Why? Because you've got a skinny butt?" I blinked several times. And then said, "Uh, no, honestly because I am really used to sharing my space."

Then Doug and his wife started quizzing me on why I was alone at a party. So I told them that I was a loner. And then the guy next to me goes, "Why? You're cute. And sexy. And if you're cute and sexy, all you have to do is ask."

I suddenly felt extremely grossed out. I looked at him with one eyebrow up and said, "Ask for WHAT?" It was then that I took a look at him. A probably 40something bachelor with both ears pierced, scruffy facial hair, and a beer belly.

He said, "Well, you know, whatever."

I waited for a good opportunity and then pointed out my "worse half". To which the 40-year-old-gross-o said, "Oh! Which one is he? Need to know these things, you know."

And then he took the opportunity to scold me for being married young. And proceeded to explain to me that the reason I was so quick to fall into the arms of a man and get married was because I probably had a bad childhood and no father figure.

Which irritated me beyond all reason. So I said, "Actually, my husband and I dated for over four years before we got married. We didn't 'rush into' anything. And now we've been married for over three and a half years."

He piped down for a bit, and then Amaris walked by, playing with bubble wands. And he said, "I have not heard that kid talk the whole time I've been here." Clearly he didn't realize he was sitting next to and had just finished hitting on and then scolding "that kid's" mother. In fact I'm pretty sure he didn't realize I was a parent at all. So I said, "Oh, she talks nonstop." And then I called her over, and she turned and saw me there and said with the world's biggest and brightest smile, "HI MOMMY!"

I've never been so proud in my life.

Beer belly scooted away to allow space for Amaris to sit next to me on the bench.

I stayed there a while and then got up. Later on, beer belly lit up a cherry scented cigar and I was further disgusted by him and his existence.

There is a certain dignity in how you choose to hit on someone, and how you react to being shot down. He didn't have an ounce of respectability. Just because you're bummed that you're 40something and single, and I am a happily married girl HALF your age... Doesn't mean you ought to try and make me miserable, too. Sometimes it really is that simple. I found it, you didn't. I hate to be mean, but at least butt out when you're given the proper cues to do so. And unless you know me, or know anything about me, you ought to not open your big ugly trap and tell me about my issues and mistakes and weaknesses. That's just silly.

One of my big fears lately is that Mark will eventually look like George Lopez "when he grows up". George Lopez is not funny. He is a racist. And is annoying. To be fair, I don't enjoy ANY of the "racist" comedians. I don't like any of the "Blue Collar" guys, Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, or Carlos Mencia.

Clearly today all I want to talk about is famous people who annoy me.

There is a George Lopez commercial that comes on Noggin several times a day. And when I see it, I get annoyed. And then I realize that he actually does look quite a bit like Mark. They have similar eyebrows. And similar noses. Similar coloring. More accurately, I guess that what I am really saying is that shortly after I am annoyed by the G-Lo commercial, I realize that MARK could, with a little more hair, potentially look a lot like HIM.


I realize that he is not a particularly "bad looking" guy, but for some reason I feel like if and when Mark starts to really resemble him... He will suddenly become an obnoxious bigot. And that's just not a happy thought for me.

In our house, 4:30 is the time of day we all dread. Amaris knows that Noggin won't be on for much longer as soon as the 4PM showing of Blue's Clues is over. She will start looking over at me nervously. As soon as Yo Gabba Gabba is about to begin, I change the channel and she instantly pitches a fit. It's become sort of funny. She knows it's just for a little while, but still has to make it into a huge dramatic scene.

The real problem comes into play when I realize that there is really not much else on. Every day, it winds up being DJ Lance vs. Paula Deen. Two of my LEAST favorite TV personalities. Ultimately, Paula wins, because while she is absolutely one of the most obnoxious people I've ever had to watch for 30 minutes, her show at least involves food. And it reminds me that I should think about dinner. And watching Paula Deen gives me something sane to complain about. Well, partially sane at least. She makes all Southern women seem like uneducated idiots. Her accent is overdone and irritating, and she licks her fingers and cooking utensils while she cooks.

All of these things bother me about Paula Deen. But none of them bother me as much as the disturbing facial expressions Paula makes upon tasting EVERY SINGLE DISH she creates:

To me, this reaction seems to be a cross between scary, cross-eyed, mildly retarded, and orgasmic. It annoys me. More than you could possibly understand. I want to beat her mercilessly.

However, I would still rather watch her for a half an hour than watch DJ Lance and his creepy dancing toys. Even if it means that Amaris will have a brief fit.


Plus, I am bigger than Amaris. So I win.

And really, it could be worse. Food Network could have decided to put Everyday Italian on at 4:30, and then I'd be forced to watch Giada DeLaurentis. And I'd have to hear about her "crispy," "crunchy," and "gooey" Italian favorites. While she pretends to have an Italian accent. And smiles with her gigantic horse teeth. That would be REAL torture.

As far as I am concerned, these shows should never have been created. When these shows come on, I can feel brain cells dying. Each of them a slow and painful death.

5. The Wonder Pets!
The Wonder Pets could very easily have been a really cute show. It is similar to Disney's Little Einsteins, except instead of cartoon children, there are pre-k class pets as the main characters. Linny, Tuck (and Ming-Ming, too!) are the three "heroes". Every episode, they encounter a "pwobwem", where a baby animal is in "twouble" and needs to be "wescued".
When we start watching the Wonder Pets, I think to myself, "I can handle this show." And then that fucking duck opens it's mouth and says "This is SEE-WEE-US!" and I want to bang my head into the nearest hard surface. Thank you SO much for instilling a speech impediment in my child. How very educational of you.

4. Miss Spider's Sunny Patch Friends
Never have you encountered a cartoon quite as gimmicky and nonsensical as Miss Spider's Sunny Patch Friends. This show makes me want to straight up vomit. Miss Spider is the "mother" and has something like 8 kids. However, only five of her children are spiders. Nobody tell her pantywaist husband, but I think she may have cheated on him to also have mothered a bed bug, a dragonfly, and a beetle. Her husband is like half her size and wears this ridiculous little hat.
They do stupid things in this show, like instead of saying "everybody" or "somebody", they'll say "everybuggy" or "somebuggy". Or your birth day is called your "hatch day". It gets EXTREMELY irritating.

3. Max and Ruby
This show will just piss you off. This show is all about how Ruby, who is supposed to be 7, parents (and micromanages) her mischievous little brother Max. She is constantly making little Max feel stupid, or trumping his fun. It makes you wonder, just where are their mother and father?? Ruby is a total snot. Occasionally you see their grandmother in the show, but not every time. It's generally just Ruby telling Max what he can and cannot do. Max does not enjoy being bossed around. I can't blame him. Ruby sucks. In one episode, she actually tells him "We have to clean you up - you look disgusting."

2. Oobi
Seriously, this show is some creepy shit. I don't even know who thought this was a good idea. But I'd like to meet them and punch them in the face. Another show that promotes improper grammar and pronunciation, ("grandpa" is "grampoo", for example, and none of their sentences are complete - "Oobi help?"), but unlike The Wonder Pets, this show doesn't look cute doing it. A bunch of hands with bug-eyes wandering around your TV, talking to each other does not equal good times as far as I'm concerned. Actually I think it probably equals some pretty freaky nightmares.

1. Yo Gabba Gabba!
Yes, I have indeed saved the most creepy, hands-down, for last. I don't even allow this show to play in our house. When I hear the creepy intro music, I change the channel at speeds that would make a pit-crew proud. Yo Gabba Gabba makes entirely NO sense, whatsoever. There's this guy in an orange jump suit with a bunch of little toys, from what I gather, and when you "say the magic words" (which are, incidentally, "Yo Gabba Gabba") the little toys come to life and jump around spastically and sing songs which generally don't have to make sense. And the guy in the orange jump suit is always smiling this really creepy "I'm going to eat you as soon as you turn your back" smile.

Uh, no thanks.


I wouldn't be sad if I never had to watch these shows ever again. Honest.

crunk: (as defined by urbandictionary.com - definition #6) A cliched and overused hiphop term that has been beat to death more than "Bling-Bling" and "Shizzle". It means to get crazy and drunk. The term lost it's "cool" factor like two years ago, but that doesn't stop wiggers and wanna be gangstas from using the the term as much as possible.