Players only love you when they're playin'

I went to the Fleetwood Mac concert tonight. Great show, but I'm now paralyzed from the thighs down. Seating in that particular arena isn't meant for anyone over 4' 3" tall. I wore heels so I was about 6 ft tall. Not the wisest idea of footwear since my knees were tightly tucked underneath my chin.

Ever get a cramp in your leg and you HAVE to move but you can't because you're sandwiched in between your friend and Jabba the Hutt's sister? Yeah, well, it sucks! I'm sure Jabba's sister thought I either had ADHD or I was about to piss myself. Actually I did have to urinate thanks to the margaritas', but I was distracted by the excruciating pain I was in due to contorting myself into a space the size of a diaphragm.

By the time fleetwood Mac did their first encore I was in so much pain I thought that gangrene had already set in my right leg. Or a DVT at the very least. They had the nerve to do 3 encores by the way. I think I was the only one shouting

GET THE FUCK OFF THE STAGE ALREADY!!!!

Okay, so I didn't yell that, but I reeeeeeeally wanted to.

Remember the video I posted of my new man Daniel (yes we are on a first name basis now) after I went to the Nickelback concert? Well, I hope you aren't expecting something similar tonight. Needless to say I wasn't as impressed with this particular drummer. He could bang well enough for a 140 year old man, but he's no Daniel, that's for sure. Dude was 2 enchiladas short of a platter though, AND he looked like a crazy ass Santa Claus.

HO HO HO BITCHES!!!!!

Told ya.

P.S - Go to hell blogspot formatting.

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Randomosity

I have the sleep pattern of an infant. I sleep about 4 hours in a row and then I'm wide awake. The only difference between me and an infant is that I don't shit and piss myself, and I don't breast feed. Thank you sweet baby Jesus. The main problem with my sleeping pattern is that I tend to wake up around 2:00 am rarin' to go. I also usually wake up hungry. So I eat, and then I stay up a few hours, and then I go back to sleep. This continues throughout the day. I haven't always been like this. I slept like a normal person prior to getting a job and working nights. I've deduced that jobs suck, and so does working at night. I've got a plan though.

Brent is working from home today. I know this because I was just kicked out of his office. It was conference call time, so I decided to sit in on it to see what kind of "work" these folks do. Turns out it was alot of bullshitting about nothing. I begged and pleaded for him to turn the mute button off because I had things that I wanted to share. "I promise it will be funny and I'll keep it clean!!" I said. Didn't happen. Dude, where's the trust?

Then we began talking about the swine flu. I'm so sick of this topic. Honestly, if Susan Boyle would get the swine flu, I would be the happiest woman on the planet. Anyway, I told Brent that it was ironic that we were talking about people getting sick and keeling over because I thought I was coming down with something too. Then I went on to list all of my signs and symptoms. This all went down during the conference call he was trying to listen to, by the way.

1. "exhaustion"


2. "lethargy"


3. "confusion"


4. "boredom"


5. "hunger"


6. "nausea"


7. "frequent urination

At this point he says "I see lockjaw isn't on your list" and then he pointed towards the door. Hmf... He will regret that. I assure you.

In other news, after 938 emails I managed to find a new home for my 2 lawnmowers. I wasn't even asked to lower the price, so that means I didn't ask enough for them. Dammit! The responses I got were pretty funny. Quite a few came from people not even needing a lawnmower, but they wanted to tell me how much they liked my "brilliant" add. One lady tried to guess where I was from based on my sense of humor alone. She thought that I was either from Boston or England. BZZZZZ!!!! Wrong answer. Then others felt the need to vent about their lazy husbands as well. I also got a quite a bit of email saying "I want it" or "I'm interested" and as soon as I would email them back (which was immediately since I have my phone attached to my ass at all times) saying that they were still available, I'd never hear from them again. What the hell was the point? I don't know if they were just trying to fish my home address out so that they could come and murder me or what. OH! I forgot to tell you the best email that I got.

Jethro writes :

"So I see the wife is to lazy to mow the grass to."

Candice writes :

"4 words for ya Jethro. Kindly go fuck yourself. By the way, your opinion would have meant more to me had you used to proper form of TOO, you asshat."

Never heard back from Jethro.

Next item up for the masses? The couch that has been sitting in my garage for the past year and a half. This was a couch that my mother (who lives in Louisiana, but shops on craigslist in Dallas.... Can't figure that one out) just HAD to have. Brent drove an hour to go and get it, we stored it here, and as soon as she saw it she decided she didn't want it anymore.

"Oh, just leave it on the curb. I'm sure someone will come and pick it up"

Thanks Mom. I'm sure our HOA would really get a kick out of that shit. What the fuck? So anyway, we've had that sucker long enough. Our garage is a damn pig sty and Brent has flat refused to clean it until I get rid of the couch. Now he's starting to sweat it out because he knows that he's about to have to do some hard labor. I predict the couch will be gone within the week, and I will have a pristine garage in roughly a week and one day.

Gotta go. It's nap time again.

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Looks like I'll be on a posting hiatus for a while

It's not like I WANT to go away or anything. I'm actually being forced to go against my will. I told him I would try to do better. I had to. I have felt myself slipping away as of late. Just beyond the reach of those trying to help me the most. I knew I had to resist my urge and tap into that inner strength that is needed to fight such a strong addiction. My very survival depended on it.

Apparently I'm a miserable failure, and I let down those that needed me the most. It all started with that damn Albertson's sale flyer. I knew it wasn't going to be a good ending as I perused the pages. I was right.

So what was the straw that broke the proverbial swine flu infected camel's back?

I came home from the grocery store with more cereal. Apparently I have a "problem" and I need "help". "But Cinnamon Life cereal was on sale 3 boxes for 10 bucks!" I gasped. I mean, who wouldn't proceed full steam ahead with a deal like that? Cinnamon Life cereal is the SHIT. I could probably eat that for 3 meals a day. In fact, I should!

So now all of the sudden 14 boxes of cereal for a 4 person family is considered excessive?

Whatever.

I actually talked some sense into him briefly. He was willing to give me another chance until he saw this.

Alright. Fine. So I may be slightly territorial with my Cinnamon Life cereal. I can't help it. I'm the only one around here that eats it correctly. Why even bother sharing it only to witness the almighty cereal foul? Yes, there is a certain way to eat this particular cereal. If you drown the whole bowl of cereal in milk then it's pointless. You're just eating bloated, soggy fragments of whole grain oat. Fuck that.

Let me give you a block of instruction on the proper consumption of this yummy goodness.

You have to gently pour the contents into the bowl, salivate slightly while doing so, and then pour a small amount of milk into the bowl. If you come close to covering all of the cereal with milk, then you might as well go and hang yourself because you're an idiot. Now you won't even get to taste the cinnamon crunchiness that is CINNAMON LIFE. Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you people! Anyway, remember, SMALL amount of milk in the bowl. Then wait about 36 seconds for the cereal to slightly soak up the milk, but not to the point of it being a floatation device. There is a fine art to this, people. Trust me.

Okay, now enjoy it. Savor every delectable bite. Go ahead and plan for that second bowl because YES... AHHHH YES!! Ohhhhhh my God, yeah!

Ahem.. Yes, it's that damn good.

So yeah, I'll be in rehab for a while. First I was locked away due to my phish food habit. Now this?

The injustice of it all.

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I fully expect my PETA membership to be revoked

I love my animals and all, but taking them to the vet sucks. I have a hard time throwing down my hard earned money (in these tough economic times) on animals that are going to die relatively soon anyway. I mean, I know the cats will probably hang on until the bitter end because cats are a pain in the ass like that, but dogs don't usually live THAT long do they?

All I wanted to do was send my dog to get a proper bath. Turns out Bailey was overdue for his "yearly exam", and the vet refused to give him a freaking bath until his vaccinations were up to date. That statement brings me to my first point. Why in the hell is it that after people reach a certain age in childhood, that we no longer need to be vaccinated unless we basically want a Tetanus or Flu shot, yet these animals need vaccinations YEARLY?

RIPOFF!

So I inquire as to how much this little trip is going to cost, immediately shit myself, and then schedule the dog for a little trip to the vet anyway. Not because I want him to be vaccinated. I want him to be CLEAN. Not to mention their bathing services include nail trimming, ear cleaning, and a sodomizing act to express anal glands. Most of those are services that I do not render here at the homestead.

*Random tangent to follow*

Can I just say that I'm so thankful that humans DO NOT have anal glands that need expressing. I'm fairly certain that if we did, we would get numerous non-emergent "emergent" cases in the ER where people would show up in droves to get a finger stuck up their ass. Naturally, I'm guessing this would be yet another nursing task since we get to do all of the shit work anyway.

Anyway, so we bring the dog to the vet and I apologize to Bailey (aka B. dizzle) in advance about what he's about to experience. A couple of hours later I get a phone call from the Veterinarian herself.

Me- "hello"

Dr Doolittle- "Hi, I just wanted to give you a little update on Bailey. He has had all of his shots, and seems to be in great health."

Me- "Um hmm."

Dr Doolittle- "With the exception of his weight problem. You see, Bailey has gained 8 lbs over the past year."

Me- big fucking deal. I can do that in a month "Well, he's got this emotional eating problem."

*crickets*

Me- "I'm joking...."

Dr Doolittle- "ha ha... Well, that type of weight gain can be hard on his joints."

Thinks about that National Lampoons Vacation scene where they tie the dog to the bumper of the station wagon, and then drive off.... That would be a good form of exercise. I decide to not share this with Mrs. stickupherass

Me- "The weight gain probably has something to do with the fact that he sleeps more than a cat. We're talking 22 hours a day at least. Maybe he's depressed? Nevermind, I'll just plan on walking him more."

Then she continued on with all of the things that she recommended we do for the dog that would of course add on to the already expensive bill. I swear it was like when you drop your car off to get the oil changed and they call 30 minutes later with the bad news that you need this, this, this, this and this. Oh, and by the way, that will be an additional 3,000 dollars.

So now at this point I'm seeing my new purse that I wanted go up in flames, and I'm seriously about to tell Dr Doolittle that I'm this close to driving up there and expressing her anal glands with a Little Tykes baseball bat.

All the dog needed was a god damned bath! Seriously, just do it already so I can bring my dog home. He needs his rest! Quit finding extraneous shit to add to the bill before I end up on the evening news.

Long story short, I've decided that I'm SO not the animal lover that would go above and beyond for their pet. You know the kind. The lady that's got a special wheelchair for her 3 legged, blind dog with the mange that's sporting a colostomy bag, who also happens to need dialysis 3 times a week in order to survive? Yeah, not so much.

I love you Bailey, I really do. But if Any of the above happens to you, it's pet cemetery time buddy boy.

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Clearing out the clutter Candice style

Yes, I know people are getting murdered right and left by posting on this site, but I'm getting desperate here. I'm tired of parking my damn vehicle outside when we have a 3 car garage loaded with crap that's taking up space. So what do I do? I get rid of it. I'll post an ad a day if I have to until I have all of the shit removed.

DISCLAIMER:

Brent has told me to state for the record that 99.7 % of the stuff in the garage is all mine. Starting with a couch that we got for my mother that she ended up not even wanting. I also have bins of clothing from when both kids were infants, all the way up to the size they are now. Oh and by the way, I have always enjoyed shopping for my kids. There are gliding rocking chairs, cribs, and an exersaucers as well for all of those future babies I plan on spitting out. This is REALLY what's taking up all of the space, but to be honest Brent makes an easy scapegoat. So there you have it.

And I formerly present you with add number one.

2 push lawnmowers for sale. Husband too lazy to use them - $70 (North Dallas)

Well, it's finally happened. I'm tired of having my garage cluttered up with perfectly good machinery that we no longer use, so I'm going to do something about it.

It's a tragic story really. You see, we moved to Texas and all of the sudden my husband's arms and legs have ceased working. So now we HIRE out for someone to come and mow our postage stamp sized yard due to my husband's apparent inability to do so himself. This is where you come in. You buy these for yourself so that I can have a part of my garage back.

First up we have this lovely Bolens lawnmower. It has all kinds of random numbers and letters that I'm certain will mean something to somebody, but means absolutely nothing to me. 22" cut side discharge mower 4.0HP/158CC - Sounds great right? I think so too. Buy this puppy for $70 bucks and we will even throw in a free gas container with it. After all, why would we need that? But you? The person that will actually mow the lawn themselves? Yes, that would totally come in handy for you.

Next up we have yet another push mower that also eats weeds. I'm gathering that from the name of the mower itself. "Weed Eater" Catchy title if I do say so myself. Look at the shiny green color of the body. You will be the talk of your neighborhood as you push this beauty around your yard. It also has random numbers and letters on the engine. 5.50 hp and 21" or some such. It even has all of the stickers intact, including the lovely warning that states if you're stupid enough to put your fingers by the moving blades, then you're more than likely to chop a few fingers off.

This mower will also include a free gas container. What a bargain! Now this bad boy is going to be a bit more expensive than the last one because it's practically new. So for $115 dollars, you can be the proud new owner of this fine piece of machinery. Not only that, but you'll make me a very happy woman.

This is not a joke. Please contact Candice using the email link above if you are interested.

I'll be waiting...

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Operation hard body - Full steam ahead

The following conversation took place between Brent and myself.

Me- Okay, so this week you need to prepare yourself for a spin class, because you're going to be attending one with me.

Brent- No I'm not.

Me- Yes you are.

Brent- Let me break it down for you in words that you can understand. NO.... I'm not.

Me- YES... YOU ARE! You're being ridiculous. Give me one reason why you don't want to go.

Brent- Because I don't.

Me- Now I see where the kids get it. Seriously, give me a reason. Just one. That's all I'm asking for.

Brent- Because the last time you talked me into going to a spin class, I couldn't feel my BALLS for a week. That's why.

What does one say to that? Nothing. You spring into action by buying testicle talc and one of these bad boys.


There WILL be spinning. Trust me. I would just say screw it, he will just go to a step class instead, but the last time I talked him into doing that we almost got kicked out of the class because I couldn't stop laughing. Apparently I was distracting everyone else. Whatever.


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Dooms day is fast approaching

Okay people. It's on poppin'. I've got my serious game face displayed and there will be no screwing around from this point forward. I know I've said something similar before, but this time is different. I've got no time for games. I will be Punta Cana bound in 3 months and 20 days (not that I'm counting down the days or anything), so a couple of different scenarios have played through my head.

Option A) I can put forth the work and effort into looking like a normal person in a bathing suit. Holy shit I just said bathing suit. I can't even remember the last time I put one of those things on! By the way this "effort" does NOT include eating pizza for every meal and washing it down with Mike's Hard Lemonade. It also probably means that I'll have to get my heart rate above 60 every now and then.

or

Option b) I can do nothing and take the risk of random PETA members trying to roll me off the beach back into the ocean because they unfortunately confused me with a beached whale. Then I would have to lay a beat down Hayden Panettiere's ass because I'd be all like, "Look bitch! There's no blow hole here!" and things would just be all awkward after that.

So when faced with the harsh reality of being practically naked on the beach in front of complete strangers, I'm going to go with option A. Brent doesn't know this, but HE is also going to be going with option A. After all, marriage is all about teamwork and support. We are in this together. So I will be dragging his ass to the gym every day if I have to. Now THAT is love.

With that being said, operation hard body will go into effect on Monday, because, well, I figure that's a damn good starting point. Not to mention, I have chocolate covered peanuts, beef jerky, and gummy worms that I need to inhale prior to that. I also may or may not rendezvous with Ben and Jerry one more time. The jury is still out on that one. I'm kind of getting tired of those guys to be honest.

I had the equivalent of my last meal tonight. Chicken strips and fries in addition to Doritos, cookies, and a pitcher of daiquiri's. It wasn't even good to be honest. I would have had pizza, but I had that last night. I'm sitting here feeling as though I'm about to give birth to poultry, potatoes, and Pillsbury cookies covered in strawberry daiquiri sauce. I haven't felt this uncomfortable since that time I was 18 months pregnant. I'm so damn thirsty for water, but if I add one more ml to my gut then I will surely spew. I fucking suck at bulimia, or I'd so stick my finger down my throat. The truth is I'd rather have a prostate exam than puke, so that's definitely out.


But seriously, Monday will be the start date to my overall body transformation. There won't be any magic pills, lipo, limb amputations, or anything like that. Just alot of sweat and starvation. I wish I could tap back into that eating disorder that I had in highschool and college. That would be ideal. Back in the day I could survive on pretzels, pickles and gummy bears alone. Now I can proudly sport this shirt.

I'm all about setting goals. You can not achieve what you do not believe. Or something like that. So anyway, since I'm not into laying out on the beach in jeans and a turtleneck sweater, I'm going to do what it takes in order to not do that. Visualization is also key, so here goes nothing. This is what I'll look like by August.

Yeah, I'm extremely smokin'. I know. You don't even have to say anything. Oh, and since I'm going to be so hot, I also would like my husband to be somewhat complimentary.

The gun isn't exactly mandatory, but the bulge in his pants will be.

To be continued...

By the way, I'm totally considering ditching this nursing gig and going into graphic designing. I've got a future in it I think.


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Email from my mother

I've discussed this before. I love my Mom to death, but I've been known to set up a spam filter solely on her behalf from all of the junk mail that gets sent my way. Seriously, Snopes was invented because of her ass.

So I get an email from her today about some recalled piece of shit chair from Wal-Mart. Typically this would automatically get deleted without even a glance, however I must be bored today so I scrolled down to see why people were all up in arms about some junk that was purchased from a store that is known for selling low quality items at a decent price. This is what it said.

For Goodness Sakes ! !

Another serious problem with defective Chinese products, Where will it end!!
Beware!!!!!!!

Wal-mart is selling lounge chairs made in China , and the plastic is very very cheap and thin.
Purchase at your own risk.

This is the part where I got on my high horse. I was - - this close to emailing my mother REPLY ALL and giving them all a piece of my mind about Wal-Mart and how generally everything that's made in China is junk. Why is this such a fucking revelation? Then I saw the attached picture.

****
See sample below

Now I have to ask myself this question.

What other little jewels have I been sending to the junk mail bin?

By the way, just in case you wonder how I ended up the way I did.. Yeah, I'm glad I could clear that up for you.

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The unthinkable has happened.

I don't know if you've gathered this by now, but Brent is my exact opposite. He's a low key, laid back, mellow, nothing gets him pissed off type of guy. Which is probably good because I do a lot of stuff that would piss off the average male. I'm also not very low key. I'm easily annoyed and I'll let you know by bitching about it. Brent has always been here to listen to my rants. Sometimes he will smile and nod because he's supportive like that. Other times he will jump in and bitch right along with me, especially when he thinks that I've been wronged in some way. Then there are those times when he carefully talks me down from the ledge because if he didn't I would surely stroke out.

I've never had to do any of the above with him because he simply doesn't get mad about anything. Well, I take that back. That time I zapped his leg with the dog's shock collar did piss him off briefly. He bitched about having heart palpitations for a minute or two and then that was the end of that. He's such a drama king sometimes.

Anyway, after work he took the boy child to swimming lessons, then he decided to go and grab dinner for us since I played migrant worker in the yard all damn day. I decided to forgo the pizza and go with Mexican food. I jumped in the shower in and effort to get clean so that I wouldn't drop dirt in my food. Then all of a sudden Aidan comes in to the bathroom to deliver an important message.

And I quote...

Aidan- "They didn't put the beep tortillas in the bag."

Me- still in the shower so can't hear shit "WHAT??"

Aidan- "They didn't put the beep tortillas in the bag!"

Me- "What's a beep tortilla? Ooooh wait a second. . . Daddy said a bad word didn't he?"

Yes, my children walk around beeping out random conversations. It's practically rated G at all times. Works well for those times that you REALLY need to curse. Ever have those moments where "shoot" "dang" "son of a gun" and "freak" just absolutely would not work? Well that's okay. Now all you have to do is BEEP it.

Drop your perfume and break it all over everything? No beeping problem. Just clean the beeping beep up and then sit back and watch your beeping brain cells dwindle away while you inhale the noxious fumes.

See what I mean? I feel much better now.

Anyway, where the beep was I? Oh yes, the tortillas...

So this apparently really pissed Brent off. It pissed him off so much that he went on a fucking hunger strike.

Me- "So you're just going to sit there and not eat?"

Brent- "We don't have any beeping tortillas."

Me- "Yes we do. We had some that I purchased from the store."

Brent- "That's not a beeping tortilla. That's WHEAT SUBSTANCE"

Me- " Wheat substance my fat beep. So it's 99% fat free. You won't be able to tell when you put half a beeping cow and sour cream and cheese all over it. I can't believe you are pissed off because of something so stupid. Serves you right. You should have checked the bag before you left anyway. Didn't they forget part of our order last time? How about lessons learned and all of that beep?"

Brent- "I shouldn't have to go through the God beep bag. It's a beeping Mexican establishment for beep sakes! How beeping hard is it to put some beeping tortillas in with the fajitas? Seriously?"

At this point I went ahead and enjoyed my dinner because unlike Mr. grumpy ass, I always eat my fajitas sans tortilla.

So after all of the things that I've said and done over the years, it's the lack of tortillas that finally pisses him off and makes him go all Alec Baldwin on a hunger strike on my bitch ass.

Men are fucking weird.

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So the trend continues

Allow me to explain. In a nutshell, I've gone from fucking up electronic devices, to fucking up anything comprised of glass. It's true.

A couple of days ago I managed to drop a bottle of Listerine on the tile floor in the bathroom. Yes, they still make glass bottles of Listerine. Anyway, it promptly shattered and went everywhere. I then had the pleasure of having a minty fresh bathroom and bedroom, which admittedly wasn't so bad assuming you're into things smelling minty fresh.

Well all of that changed today when I proceeded to drop my brand new glass bottle of perfume on the same tile floor. It fell to the floor in slow motion, and I'm fairly certain I had time to think of at least 10 different things prior to that sonofabitch making contact with the unforgiving tile.

1. Oh shit.. Here we go again.

2. Why do they still make perfume in glass bottles? That's not a very good idea for folks like me. Perhaps I should email the people that make this stuff and clue them in that something a little more durable (like plastic) would suffice.

3. I really need to get my nails done.

4. But I should mulch the flower beds first.

5. I hope there aren't any spiders in the flower beds.

6. I need to pee.

7. Why aren't you trying to do something about the glass bottle that's about to hit the floor?

8. Kick it. Deflect it to the clothing on the floor so that it doesn't break. Do something you lazy ahole!

9. No quick movements... full bladder. Remember?

10. Impact in 3. 2. 1. FUCK!

And then it shattered... And the perfume went everywhere. On me, on the bathroom rug, the dirty clothes, the wall, etc. It's even embedded into the tile grout. I've now got the whore house fallout effect going on in here. There is a haze around my house. Al Gore is seriously going to beat my ass because of the brand new hole that I've ripped into the ozone layer. I'm fucking high off of the fumes. I hate perfume now. This smell is awful. What in the hell was I thinking when I bought this liquid turd in a bottle? How do I get rid of it? What else can I manage to break in an effort to cover up this smell? I've got a glass bottle of vinegar in the pantry. I'm thinking of busting that shit in the bathroom because surely the smell of douche would be better than this. Anything, would be better than this.

Help!

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Am I the Lone Ranger here?

If I hear one more thing about Susan Boyle, I'm going to stab myself in the kidney. Granted, I'll be stabbing myself with some dull ass Kershaw kitchen knives, but I figure that I'll put myself out of my misery eventually.

I've seen her all over my television. Yes, it's still functional by the way. She's also been all over the internet. My facebook page is even cluttered with people posting her video. They're all like, hey, you've SO got to check this lady out. Well, curiosity eventually got my cat, and I did it.

I pressed play.

And I watched the whole. damn. video.

I think I may have even drooled a little bit.

One thing is for sure. I was not impressed.

Brent said that if she belted out some 2 Live Crew lyrics instead of the lame ass Les Miserables crap, that I would have been more impressed. He knows me so well. More face down ass up, Susan fucking Boyle! Without the damn vibrato this time!

I think I know what's really going on here. It's not about the singing at all. People feel sorry for her because she's 47 and she has yet to be kissed much less laid.

That really baffles me. I'm actually considering switching teams just looking at her picture. Okay, honestly, even if she's not that attractive, that's no excuse not to dabble in the peen prior to turning 47. Think about it. There are ugly people out there getting laid on a semi-regular basis.

For example...

Pete Doherty managed to bang Kate Moss for quite a while. She was evidently high or temporarily blind.


He's got to be hung like a 2x4. That's the only explanation I can come up with.

If I were a dude, I would bang my couch cushions before I would go within a 5 mile radius of that.

Then there is play boy Bill. Not only does he get ample booty, but he manages to sway certain individuals to pleasure themselves with dried and fermented tobacco.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Susan fucking Boyle!

In the meantime I will wait for you to fade back into obscurity.

Easy come easy go

Dear Jeffery Donovan,

Hey, what's up? Okay, all small talk aside, I'm writing you this letter to inform you that it's over between us. Don't worry, I still think you're a nice guy and all, I just don't think we are right for each other. Please don't get down on yourself. It's ME, not you. I just think that some time apart will do us some good. You're really not "doing" it for me anymore.

Don't get me wrong, if you were ever in my neck of the woods, and you needed anything. I mean anything. Like perhaps you needed your gun polished, just as an example. Yeah, I would so polish that shit for you. Spy's do enjoy a nicely polished weapon, right? I figured as much.

Anyway, you're probably crying over your blueberry yogurt, wondering where we went so wrong. It's okay, I'm about to tell you. Remember when I told you that I was going to the Nickelback concert this past weekend? And before you jump to conclusions, NO I don't want to hump Chad freaking Kroeger.


In fact, I didn't even want to hump him when he was sporting the Jesus look. Okay, so maybe I did SLIGHTLY. Like picture a dry hump sort of scenario with minimal touching.

Now he shortened the hair into this cute little DBB (douche bag bob) so the humpability factor has sunk to an all time low. I will give him this. He can sing well and put on a great show. The negative? He says fuck way too much, and it offended such a pristine gal as myself. Anyway, he never could have replaced my love for you, dear Jeffery.

The drummer of Nickelback, Mr Daniel Adair, however.... CAN.

Seriously, I've never wanted to be a drum stick more in all of my life, and I knew I had to let you go during his drum solo. I will refrain from expounding on that in an effort to spare your feelings, but let me just say it was HOT!

Anyway, I hope you understand why it has to be this way. Just in case you don't. Peep this.

Nuff said, right?

Love,

Candice

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It's only fair that you know

So yeah, remember the post where I went on and on ad nauseam about how I was going to give some things up for lent? Ice cream, frozen yogurt, and pizza specifically speaking. I believe I held out about a week without frozen yogurt or ice cream.

Yes, I know. Loser!

I was doing SO good with abstaining from pizza. Not to say that I wasn't tempted a few times. Taylor has had sleepovers which pretty much automatically requires ordering pizza. Then there was the time during Aidan's birthday party where there was an abundance of left over pizza that was brought home. I had the pleasure of being tortured, while watching everyone else but me dine on my favorite food.

I was reminded of my sweet dead Golden Retriever we had while I was growing up. Her name was Sugar. This poor girl would sit at our feet and watch us eat our food. She never begged once, but if you were annoyed by having a pet stare you down complete with massive drooling while you enjoyed your dinner, then you probably wouldn't have enjoyed this dog's company much.

What's my point? Well, I basically went all Sugar on their asses while they enjoyed the pizza. I stared longingly at each member of my family as they put the doughy, cheesy, meaty slice of heaven in their mouths. Then I watched them masticate. No, that's not nearly as perverse as it sounds. Then I began to drool a little.

You don't want to dooooooo this..... Good Candice on my shoulder said

The fuuuuuuck you don't..... Evil Candice said.

Then I over heard Brent say "Can I help you?"

He caught me staring in a puddle of my own drool as he ate his pizza.

"How is it?? Is it really good?" I asked

"It's not bad." He stated, as he tore into another slice

"I hate you. I think you should know that."

Long story short. That was the day I caved. I moped around until I finally said screw it. I recanted that I hated Brent, and then asked him to go and get me some pizza. You see, if he gets it for me, then it's not totally my fault. Anyway, on his way to get the pizza I had second thoughts. I had just about made it. I mean, I've come this far. What's another 2 weeks? So I called Brent because I was going to have him get me something else other than pizza. Turns out that his cell phone that's normally permanently attached to his ass, wasn't. I tried my best to reach him and right my wrong, but I took this as a sign from Jesus that he really wanted me to have this pizza. I could almost hear him speaking to me.

Jesus- "Hey girl, what's going on?"

Me- "I'm starving, that's what. I want some damn pizza and I'm pissed off that I said I would abstain! What have you been up to?"

Jesus- "Not much really. Just chillin', and watching Hell's Kitchen. It's all good my child. You've done pretty well thus far with the whole pizza situation."

Me- "So does that mean you won't take this personally if I partake in a slice or two, or three or possibly four?"

Jesus-" I see what you do in your spare time. I'm pretty sure eating some pizza isn't what will get you cast into the depths of Hell."

Me- "Good point."

Jesus- "That doesn't mean that your ass isn't going to increase in size though. Haven't you noticed your jeans fitting tighter lately? Can you say muffin top, Lil Rounds?"

Me- "Talk to the hand, Jesus."

Jesus is SO right. They are getting tight. You know the national threat advisory system? I go by a similar system for the fit of my attire.

I'm at about a SEVERE risk of not fitting into my jeans for another week. Seriously, I'm afraid that I will get sued when the button flies off at the speed of light and shoots someone's eye out. In other words, not fucking good.

So there. I have confessed that I'm officially complete and total Lent failure. Or am I? I think you should celebrate the fact that someone was crucified, killed, buried in a tomb and then resurrected from the dead 3 days later. I mean, that's pretty impressive stuff right there. You should, at the very least, celebrate that with some pizza and possibly some Ben and Jerry's fro yo! Right??

*crickets*

*crickets*

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Bob Ross ain't got nuthin on me

So tomorrow it happens. We get our band spankin' new Vizio televisions delivered. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself. I mean, it's not everyday that you go through FIVE, count them, FIVE televisions before you become a little jaded about the whole process. I could sit here with my head in the clouds and assume that everything will be all copacetic and these new shit boxes will work perfectly, have a wonderful picture, and last for years to come.

Yeah, doubtful...

The main thing I'm excited about is getting the 42 in fire hazard television out of the middle of the floor in my bedroom. You see, Brent placed it there evidently as some sort of fucking booby trap so that I could trip and kill myself on it in the middle of the night as I try and go to the bathroom to take a leak half asleep. Several times a night... Never fails. I mean, after a while you would think that I would remember that there is a big, hard, pile of shit that practically blocks my path to the bathroom, but no. I don't work that way. So I trip over it narrowly escaping breaking my neck. Then I curse loudly and mutter incoherent ramblings about how HE needs to move the damn TV before I punch him in the throat. Unfortunately Brent is a sound sleeper and hears none of it. Which is probably why it hasn't been moved to a safer location.

So tomorrow I will have the current TV's removed and replacement turds brought back in. I wanted to do something special to commemorate the moment. Then I remembered that I've got mad skills in the drawing department, so I whipped up these happy little drawings.



I hope the delivery men are inspired by my raw talent.

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And the winner is......

Okay, so the winner will be nonchalantly announced in my video that just so happens to be futuristically set approximately a week or so from now. I told you to watch your ass Mr. Spielberg. I wasn't joking..

So a big congrats to my girl Tallulah! You're the winner of the $50 dollar giveaway from Eden Fantasys. Just to prove that I'm not completely full of crap, I will now present proof how legit this giveaway has been.

Boo-yah!

Have fun Tallulah, you lucky little thang! Just shoot me an email and I'll see what I can do about getting you your gift code. ;)


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There goes the neighborhood

I noticed today that my next door neighbors have their house for sale. My first thought?

Well that's just fucking great...

I wonder what kind of nut jobs will move in next? I mean, I really hate change, and things are pretty quiet around here in my 'hood, with the occasional drive by shooting. Oh, no worries. It's just my kid pretending to shoot his sister and her friend as they speed by on their scooters. The games kids play these days. Oh, and my neighbors on the other side of us do have an annoying, yippy ass dog that I have the pleasure of hearing when they put it in the back yard from time to time. Is it wrong of me to fantasize sodomizing that little sonofabitch with the end of my foot? I really didn't think so either.

Other than that, this neighborhood is very quiet. It's peaceful. It's nice. Now it's all about to go to hell in a shit-basket because the quiet and normal folks are trying to leave.

Thanks alot!

Anyway, I'm somewhat of a pessimist so I'm convinced that I'm going to end up with child molesters, skin heads, Jesus freaks, axe murders or Democrats as neighbors. (just kidding to all of my Democrat friends. You know I love you)

So now I have to come up with a way to scare off any potential jackass buyers. Got any bright ideas?

The best thing I can come up with is posting a sign in my yard in giant letters saying GET YOUR DILDOS HERE! RUNNING A SPECIAL ON ALL REFURBISHED MERCHANDISE.

Speaking of dildos, don't forget to enter to win my giveaway that ends this Sunday.

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I apologize in advance

I know that when I talk about my job here, I typically share semi-funny stories about some of my more eccentric patients. I keep it light because who wants to hear tragedy all of the time? However, you're all just going to have to bare with me on this one.

Everyone has difficult aspects of their job. I do not pretend that I am the lone ranger as far as that goes. Today I'm going to share with you the most difficult aspect of my job as I see it.

Losing a patient is always tough. You hear the story behind the CPR. What the person was doing prior to going down. If it was witnessed or not. You receive all of this information before you even see the patient. You build the scenario in your head because that's all you've got to work with. Regardless of the age of the patient, you try to get them back with all of the resources that are available to you. It's never easy when a patient doesn't make it, but it's personally easier for ME to handle if I know that the patient was able to live until a ripe old age, and most likely had been able to live life to the fullest, see things that they wanted to see, and loved with what potential they had.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case for me today. I saw parents walk into a room to see their child in a situation that no parent should have to witness. The denial. The anger. The sheer grief. It was truly palpable in the room. How could this happen? One minute you are going on with your life, and then all of a sudden it all comes crashing down in one moment. As a mother, I felt for these parents immensely. I wanted to cry with them but I stopped myself. I wanted to hug them. I was angry right along with them. I couldn't imagine what they were feeling. It was my worst nightmare, and they were living it. I saw the look on their faces when they saw him. The shock of everything and the disbelief. The realization that their child didn't even have a chance. They knew. He was only 16 years old and had his whole life to live, but for some reason, it wasn't going to happen. It was horrible. I've never felt so useless in my entire life.

I wanted to run out of that room and through those front doors. I wanted to tuck my kids in for bed. I wanted to hug them and tell them how much I loved them, because I know and fully understand that you shouldn't take life for granted. It can be snuffed out at any moment.

So even though I didn't know this boy, I will grieve for him as well. I will also grieve for his family and his friends. Life was too short for him, and frankly I'm a little pissed off about that. I think of all of the pieces of trash wasting away until their golden years on death row, and this poor boy didn't even have a chance. Not even close.

It's not fair.



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So much for that

As I've mentioned before in previous posts, I'm somewhat of a prankster. So after I woke up today and realized that it was April fools day, I found myself deep in thought as to what I would do to each member of my family. Typically these things just come to me all at once and don't really require much planning. I usually just pick up the phone, dial some numbers and pretend to be someone I'm not, and eventually really piss someone off good. The more cursing involved by the other party, the better the prank. Today I really let myself down. I had to reach for every little practical joke.

The first recipient of my April Fools Day prank was Taylor. What brilliant idea did I come up with, you ask? I ate her Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream. Well what was left of it, and trust me, there wasn't much. Like daughter like mother I guess. Anyway, ha fucking ha!!! Joke was totally on her. Happy April fools biot... I mean BABY!! She would totally get the joke and laugh right along with me once she came home from school. I just knew it. All I had to do was wait. By the way, I'm totally aware that there is no JOKE in eating someone elses food. I just used that as an excuse to eat it. Whatever.

The second recipient was Brent. In light of my recent screw up every piece of technology in this house phase, I thought I would continue the trend by letting him know that the new flatscreen TV that he just bought to replace the piece of shit fire hazard Visio, was now lying on the floor in pieces. Not by my doing, however. Oh no. He was to blame for this one because he didn't place it on the stand correctly. Unfortunately he had to work at the office today, so I wasn't able to see his facial expression, but it's safe to say that he was pissed. First of all, he refused to believe that he could have assembled the TV haphazardly on the stand. So after a few curse words were released, and projections (seriously, I bet he had already built a damn spread sheet) of the money that was wasted after a mere 2 days of use that I was able to attain from said TV before I apparently broke it somehow, I decided to let him off the hook. Victory was mine!

A few hours passed and I decided that I wasn't done with Brent, so I sent him a little email.

To: Brent

From: Candice

Subject:Appointment

One more thing. All jokes aside. I'm in the process of making an appointment for you to see a urologist. Very nice dude. I see him in the ER from time to time and he gets glowing recommendations from people at work. Dr X is his name. They've got openings on Apr 23rd at 2:30, Apr 29th at 9:00 and May 2nd at 4:00. What time is good for you?

To: Candice

From: Brent

Subject: Say what!?

Neither. Why exactly am I doing this again?

To: Brent

From: Candice

Subject: Neutering

Because you're old and you need a checkup. Oh, and you need to be snipped. Remember? Chop Suey nut sack?
Don't be giving me 'tude. I'm taking the initiative and booking an appointment for Christ's sake, which I NEVER do. Give me props! So when do you want to go? This guy is apparently so good at what he does he barely has appointments available. Apparently REALLY gentle with "the boys". The lady on the phone told me they go quick so I need to call her back pronto.

Let me just say that he was supposed to freak out about the fact that I had made an appointment for him to get his nuts cut upon without his consent. Instead I get this...

To: Candice

From: Brent

Subject: Excellent idea!

5/2 is a Saturday. Pick one of the April dates.
Can I schedule your mammogram?

What the fuck!?!? How did this prank fall flat like this? You can't possibly procreate with a jacked up nutsack. Why in the hell would he agree to just ending our lineage on a whim like that? I mean, if anyone needs to procreate, it's us. Seriously, have you SEEN our children? Whatever. He's SO cut off.

Now for some reason I didn't have a prank for Aidan. I figured that telling him that the tooth fairy was really a little man in tights that looked similar to Clay Aiken was torture enough. He didn't even want to put his tooth under his pillow last night. He did manage to get me back by making me think that he was dead in the bath tub this evening. He was floating, face down in the fing bath tub. It was my worst nightmare come true. Or so I thought. Turns out after screaming his name like you see in the horror movies, and then yanking his limp body from the water, he wiped the water from his eyes and told me "What's the big deal? I was just counting". Can I just say that I'm still cleaning the shit out of my pants from that one? If I had a Valium I totally would have taken one. Guess that's what I get for saying the tooth fairy is, well, really a fairy.

Oh, and Taylor didn't appreciate my April Fools joke either. I got a text from Brent telling me that she called him at work to bitch about it. He ended up buying her more ice cream that I will likely eat tomorrow. I can't wait.

Did you prank or get pranked? Tell me about it.

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