On Having the Cooties

I have been sick for the past week and I am tired of it!  The boyfriend said I have cooties. What started last week as a raw, scratchy throat turned into a nasty little chest cold and has somehow evolved into me throwing up for a full day two nights ago and not eating for the past two days. 
That has really been the worst, not eating.  I mean, on Wednesday night I came home from work with a headache (I had been having migraines since Monday) and a slight aching belly.  My boyfriend decided to come over and spend some QT with me but instead he had to lay in the bed with me as I racked with pain until I finally vomited the contents of my stomach for the day at about 2 in the morning.  From then, every hour or so I would visit Ye Olde Water Closet for a little deposit in the porcelain prayer chamber(pot) ("Oh God!  Just make it stop!").  I hate to be crude, but every visit would be a surprise.  One time I would make a deposit to the porcelain prayer chamber(pot) from up north, but every OTHER visit would come from down south. That was NOT a fun night.  I even slept in the bathroom on my little footstool with a blankie thrown half around my shoulders.
Then all of yesterday and last night, my stomach was still very upset and unsettled so I couldn't eat anything, I barely got down a bottle of water and a few crackers before the queeziness would return. So fun was the dehydration.
Which brings us to today.  I woke up feeling about the same as I was yesterday, but slowly throughout the morning, I got the courage to drink a little water and a few crackers.  I was ok!  Then I tried a single serve sized Jell-O cup and I was still ok.  I didn't want to push my luck because I was still feeling kind of weak from the lack of sustenence, so that was about all I could take until...
that damn TGIFridays about the choose-your-pick-of-appetizer-main-course-and-dessert for $12.99  commerical kept coming on VH1 and tempted me so bad that I had to call the boyfriend over so we could go there to eat.  I hadn't eaten for two days for Chrissakes!  A White Castle commercial could have easily been the replacement and I would have been dying for some sliders as if I was high and my name was Kumar.
The meal was great, but since I have not eaten in two days, I was full from my meal after only four bites of my chicken.  I didn't even order the Cinnabon Cheesecake that I had my heart set on.  Oh well, such is the life of one who has cooties.

The Cycle of the Destroyed Lawn

Argh!
It is the same thing that happened to me last year at pretty much this same time, my neighbors and their guests are parking their cars on the edge of my lawn in front of my house and completely destroying my "lawn." Now, it isn't much to begin with, but when you do this, it looks horribly tacky. I think that is downright rude!
The destruction goes into my yard about four feet and spans the most of the width of my yard.

Last year's destruction #1















So today I go home for a short lunch and I see that ONCE AGAIN my tacky neighbors have allowed their guests to park on my "lawn" and destroy it. But I am fed up - so I have a semi-permanent solution.



Yes, that is a combination cinder block/2x2 barrier. Thought up entirely by me. The trash bags are theirs though (mind you, they put them in MY YARD!) I fully expect for the barrier to be pushed down or some ghetto trash to have driven over them anyway when I get home.
Note the old Pontiac across the street. When I was building my barrier, they were pulling up and getting ready to park - you guessed it - on the edge of my yard!
I hate my neighbors. They always have "visitors" coming in and out of the house at all hours of the night and I hate it because I have a four year old daughter. The house traffic includes people who walk between our houses to get to their back door and it just so happens that that path is right outside both me and my daughter's rooms. I can almost NEVER have my shades open on the windows on that side of the house. Their guests, or them for who knows, throw trash in my yard. One day this summer when I was mowing my grass I found two liquor bottles, a cup and two potato chip bags. Was not a happy camper.
I'm not making any accusations, but normal people don't have 10 or so cars coming and going every night at all hours of the night BUMPING MUSIC like they are at a club parking lot instead of a nice quiet residential area!
Don't be fooled though, my street is a nice quaint street. My neighbor's house was occupied when I bought my house by a lovely couple; a young doctor and his new bride who gave birth to their first son. The birth of their son and a new job at a prestigious hospital caused the couple to relocate, thus the perfect neighbors (She baked me pumpernickel bread to welcome me to the neighborhood for Chrissakes!) had to sell their home to the PJs.
Thus is my life. Let's just say I would never lend then any eggs or sugar...

I Should Probably Stop Reading People Magazine then...

I hate everybody
I. Vivica A. Fox
My home girl was such a natural Naptown beauty...then she turned into a vapid Hollywood tramp that had to get a HORRIBLE boob job (I have to thank her for teaching me what capsular contraction is), horrible collagen injection in her top lip and some type of eye surgery that made her outer eyes turn up. She is hideous. I hate it that she felt the need to butcher her face only to get the crappy roles she’s been getting lately. I’ll let you see for yourself what a monster she morphed into over the years by looking at this website.
What I love more is the fact that so many blogs capture her botched boob job. Either you are a vein, shallow, soulless Hollywood tramp or your staff must really hate you to never tell you that your defective boob can be seen in the massive photos the paparazzi is snapping of you.
I hate Vivica now.
Look at her in this picture and compare her to the world’s most infamous plastic surgery chic, Jocelyn Wildenstein.

EDIT: Since somebody said I was just a hater because of her boobs, I present to you this. Yes, I have carefully i-researched the wretchedness of her boob job.
Evidence #1
Evidence #2
Evidence #3
Evidence #4
Normal boobs, do not vertically dimple in this manner. IT IS CALLED capsular contraction. Google it. I will not do all the work for you dangit!

II. And Donald Trump
I really don’t have much to say about this, except it seems awfully racial motivated to me that he keeps this little Paris Hilton/Britney Spears-in-the-making crowned when her behavior is clearly not the kind of behavior of a Miss USA. Unlike Tamiko Nash who would have taken over her reign had she been ousted. Tamiko is black. Hmmm. I’m not shouting Trump is racist, ‘cause I think that too many things get labeled racist when they really are not, but seems kind of, well, let’s just say “racially preferential.”

Read for yourself

Personal Space

I rarely like for people to be so close to me that you are invading my personal space unless
1. I am sleeping with you (for the people that are part of my church family -or my grandmother- reading this, I have only slept with somebody once and that resulted in my daughter. *cough, cough*)
or
2. I am your mother and you are my precious baby girl.
Other than that, I don't like people to touch me or be very close to me. I'm not really a fan of PDA, and only on a full moon do I decide to be all cuddly with the boyfriend.
So when I get in line at my neighborhood Speedway with a 20 oz white chocolate cappucheapo (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cappuccino )and a big greasy man with a thinned out, grease stained t-shirt with funky chewing tobacco breathe and pee colored, fried gray hair stands exactly one foot away from me, I'm expected to get uncomfortable right? I am expected to step forward so that I may again regain my personal space, right? But what happens when said gross man STEPS FORWARD IN MY PERSONAL SPACE AGAIN TOO? Should I then just turn around and release all my pent up rage from having to work with a team of complete morons and having a to deal with the stee-you-pid father of my child? Or should I just haul off and knee him in the family jewels? How about throw my steaming hot cup of cappucheapo in his face?
Seriously, I don't know how to deal with this type of behavior.

Mewsack for your enjoyment

Mewzack #1