...of my computer, which is now officially broken and dead.
...of my bottom lip, which is burned beyond recognition and is swollen 3 times the normal size. Think Octo-Mom. Just on the bottom lip.
...of two crowns which occupied my mouth just a few hours ago. Did I mention I have to have a root canal?
...of my camera--which I put up when I was doing crazy Spring cleaning and forgot where I put it
...of the beachy beach, which I left in sunny Florida
...of my sanity, which may or may not have been there at all.
Love ya Peeps!
Showing posts with label pity party. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pity party. Show all posts
Not Again!!
Peeps. Beachy Mimi is just not meant to have a love interest at this time.
G. showed so much promise.
Let me tell you about the romantic date that...wasn't.
Actually, that's the problem. There is absolutely nothing to tell. We did go out to eat which was nice. We went to a movie and had to sit on the first row. And...that's all, Peeps.
No dancing, no big romance. Nada. Nothin. Blah.
In fact...get ready for this...
HE TOLD ME MY ANKLES WERE...FAT. Seriously. Remember how nice I was about his toes? Well, I think he had the beginnings of a fungus on one toenail, the jerk.
What man tells any woman she has Amish Ankles? Not a married one, that's for sure.
Nor one that wishes to continue dating on a regular basis.
Then he had the nerve to ask me if he hurt my feelings.
Well, YES! My inner two-year-old wanted to come back with a real beachy comment like..."fat ankles match your fat gut", or, "tubby tummy, you are one to talk about body parts".
However, I conducted myself like a lady and kept my mouth shut. I know. I'm a chicken, but I hate confrontation.
By the way, he is so far off the radar I don't even remember his name.
Ha. Ha. So. There.
G. showed so much promise.
Let me tell you about the romantic date that...wasn't.
Actually, that's the problem. There is absolutely nothing to tell. We did go out to eat which was nice. We went to a movie and had to sit on the first row. And...that's all, Peeps.
No dancing, no big romance. Nada. Nothin. Blah.
In fact...get ready for this...
HE TOLD ME MY ANKLES WERE...FAT. Seriously. Remember how nice I was about his toes? Well, I think he had the beginnings of a fungus on one toenail, the jerk.
What man tells any woman she has Amish Ankles? Not a married one, that's for sure.
Nor one that wishes to continue dating on a regular basis.
Then he had the nerve to ask me if he hurt my feelings.
Well, YES! My inner two-year-old wanted to come back with a real beachy comment like..."fat ankles match your fat gut", or, "tubby tummy, you are one to talk about body parts".
However, I conducted myself like a lady and kept my mouth shut. I know. I'm a chicken, but I hate confrontation.
By the way, he is so far off the radar I don't even remember his name.
Ha. Ha. So. There.
Woe Woe Woe and Boo Hoo
TRAUMATIZED, PEEPS, BEACHY MIMI IS TRAUMATIZED!!!!
If I weren't high on dental drugs I probably wouldn't tell all this...hang on. This could get long and painful (as in boring).
I did not sleep because of the THROBBING MOUTH. Even with the drugs. They just kept me awake. When Beachy Mimi does not get sleep...she is Miserable. When BM is Miserable...things don't flow smoothly in this house.
Since I had No Sleep, I called the Parental Unit at the crack of dawn to see if she wanted to go eat breakfast at IHOP and run errands. PU LOVES IHOP. LOVES.
PU's Sunday School class (they call themselves "The Pairs and Spares") eat there together at least once a month with the preacher. He pretends to listen to their suggestions. But that is a whole other story. This is all about Me.
I got up, showered, fixed my hair and put on Makeup. Yes, I truly did. It has been so long since I have worn Makeup...I had a Baseline at my jaw. Tacky.
I go to the closet. I got some jeans out, the same size I always wear, and they WOULDN'T ZIP OR BUTTON. I pulled. I tugged. I lay on the bed and sucked in as hard as I could. Nope. Nada. No Zippo.
I was So Upset I refused to take them off ( I totally blame the drugs). So I got a big fat RUBBER BAND and ran it around the button, through the button hole and looped it back around the button for closure. Am I Classy? What was I thinking? Have I just lost it? A RUBBER BAND at the button hole? I was just so pi**** uh upset they wouldn't fit.
So like a hillbilly I WORE THEM THAT WAY ALL DAY. What was I trying to prove? That I am a stubborn idiot?
So, I pull on a sweater to cover up my handiwork and proceed to go to IHOP to eat breakfast. That really makes sense. I'm sure everyone could see my unzipped, rubber band STRAINING pants. I disgust myself.
PU and I ran many many errands and finally decided to get our "nose and tails" done
as the Princess used to call it (nails and toes).
Oh, I forgot to mention that I wore my new black Uggs today and that was another reason I didn't want to change out of my black jeans. Does it really matter if the jeans are black or regular blue jeans? I think not.
TOLD YOU THIS WAS LONG AND PAINFUL.
So, the nail place is a challenge on my best day. The girls are So Sweet...but Nosy. Very Nosy.
I walk in and Mary (nail tech) says, "You pants not zipped." Yep. She's right.
I hop in the chair and take off the New Black Uggs and my feet and ankles are BLACK.
As in dyed black from the shoes. Mary screams. I cuss. She scrubbs my feet until the water turns black. PU is snickering in the corner.
We eventually move to the nail desk where I start getting the third degree on my "boyfriend" that I don't have. Mary asks (again), "You live with Mama?" I remind her (again) that I live alone and have no boyfriend. She pats my hand in sympathy. I kinda cuss a little more in my head.
Mary proceeds to scold me about the state of my cuticles. What did she expect from a person with unzipped pants and black feet? She says I must dip them in hot wax.
Then she starts in about my eyebrows. They ALWAYS want to do something to my thicker (than theirs) eyebrows. I divert her to my upper lip instead. I disgust myself (again) that I have to get my lip waxed.
A total of THREE nail techs come over to discuss where to put the little cloth over the wax and just how hard they are supposed to yank it off. In Vietnamese. Rapidly. Loudly. I started to yank it myself since I have experience with the WAXING HARLOT. I'm an old pro. The girls decide who will yank and how hard and then it is over.
PU continues snickering at the nail drying table.
Next, Mary leads me to the hand wax dipper (OTHER FOR FOOT. NO USE!) and tells me to dip 3 times. Well...there is the biggest dead waxy horsefly (not housefly...HORSEFLY) already present in the wax.
I point to the fly. Mary shakes her head and says, "you dip".
I say, "There's a fly in the wax."
Mary says, "He dead. You dip."
I guess she thought that a person with rubber band fastened pants and black feet shouldn't be so picky. I decided she was right and I dipped. I may or may not have cussed a little under my breath as I did it.
We finally finished and left. PU was totally entertained the whole time. As we are getting in the car, I look up and ALL the nail techs are at the window watching us get in the car and all are talking at the same time. I guess it was a slow day.
I'm home now. Tomorrow I have to go present something to the Headmaster at the Princess' school.
None of my pants will fit over my too large self. The rubber band trick will not pass muster with her. It's already an embarassment that I'm even going to BE there.
The only sweater that fits has horizontal stripes. What was I thinking? Flat GIRLS can wear horizontal stripes, but NOT ginormous GIRLS.
I have to go shopping in the morning because I sat here all summer wearing knit and elastic and didn't realize MY CLOTHES DON'T FIT ME NOW. I am Seriously P**** Upset.
There are not many things worse than having to shop for a larger size.
This also creates a problem for my Thursday night event. But more on that later.
Did I mention that they left the wax on my lip so long it blistered? Yes. It Did.
Lovely.
I actually look worse than Oliver.
I may or may not still be cussing just a little bit.
If I weren't high on dental drugs I probably wouldn't tell all this...hang on. This could get long and painful (as in boring).
I did not sleep because of the THROBBING MOUTH. Even with the drugs. They just kept me awake. When Beachy Mimi does not get sleep...she is Miserable. When BM is Miserable...things don't flow smoothly in this house.
Since I had No Sleep, I called the Parental Unit at the crack of dawn to see if she wanted to go eat breakfast at IHOP and run errands. PU LOVES IHOP. LOVES.
PU's Sunday School class (they call themselves "The Pairs and Spares") eat there together at least once a month with the preacher. He pretends to listen to their suggestions. But that is a whole other story. This is all about Me.
I got up, showered, fixed my hair and put on Makeup. Yes, I truly did. It has been so long since I have worn Makeup...I had a Baseline at my jaw. Tacky.
I go to the closet. I got some jeans out, the same size I always wear, and they WOULDN'T ZIP OR BUTTON. I pulled. I tugged. I lay on the bed and sucked in as hard as I could. Nope. Nada. No Zippo.
I was So Upset I refused to take them off ( I totally blame the drugs). So I got a big fat RUBBER BAND and ran it around the button, through the button hole and looped it back around the button for closure. Am I Classy? What was I thinking? Have I just lost it? A RUBBER BAND at the button hole? I was just so pi**** uh upset they wouldn't fit.
So like a hillbilly I WORE THEM THAT WAY ALL DAY. What was I trying to prove? That I am a stubborn idiot?
So, I pull on a sweater to cover up my handiwork and proceed to go to IHOP to eat breakfast. That really makes sense. I'm sure everyone could see my unzipped, rubber band STRAINING pants. I disgust myself.
PU and I ran many many errands and finally decided to get our "nose and tails" done
as the Princess used to call it (nails and toes).
Oh, I forgot to mention that I wore my new black Uggs today and that was another reason I didn't want to change out of my black jeans. Does it really matter if the jeans are black or regular blue jeans? I think not.
TOLD YOU THIS WAS LONG AND PAINFUL.
So, the nail place is a challenge on my best day. The girls are So Sweet...but Nosy. Very Nosy.
I walk in and Mary (nail tech) says, "You pants not zipped." Yep. She's right.
I hop in the chair and take off the New Black Uggs and my feet and ankles are BLACK.
As in dyed black from the shoes. Mary screams. I cuss. She scrubbs my feet until the water turns black. PU is snickering in the corner.
We eventually move to the nail desk where I start getting the third degree on my "boyfriend" that I don't have. Mary asks (again), "You live with Mama?" I remind her (again) that I live alone and have no boyfriend. She pats my hand in sympathy. I kinda cuss a little more in my head.
Mary proceeds to scold me about the state of my cuticles. What did she expect from a person with unzipped pants and black feet? She says I must dip them in hot wax.
Then she starts in about my eyebrows. They ALWAYS want to do something to my thicker (than theirs) eyebrows. I divert her to my upper lip instead. I disgust myself (again) that I have to get my lip waxed.
A total of THREE nail techs come over to discuss where to put the little cloth over the wax and just how hard they are supposed to yank it off. In Vietnamese. Rapidly. Loudly. I started to yank it myself since I have experience with the WAXING HARLOT. I'm an old pro. The girls decide who will yank and how hard and then it is over.
PU continues snickering at the nail drying table.
Next, Mary leads me to the hand wax dipper (OTHER FOR FOOT. NO USE!) and tells me to dip 3 times. Well...there is the biggest dead waxy horsefly (not housefly...HORSEFLY) already present in the wax.
I point to the fly. Mary shakes her head and says, "you dip".
I say, "There's a fly in the wax."
Mary says, "He dead. You dip."
I guess she thought that a person with rubber band fastened pants and black feet shouldn't be so picky. I decided she was right and I dipped. I may or may not have cussed a little under my breath as I did it.
We finally finished and left. PU was totally entertained the whole time. As we are getting in the car, I look up and ALL the nail techs are at the window watching us get in the car and all are talking at the same time. I guess it was a slow day.
I'm home now. Tomorrow I have to go present something to the Headmaster at the Princess' school.
None of my pants will fit over my too large self. The rubber band trick will not pass muster with her. It's already an embarassment that I'm even going to BE there.
The only sweater that fits has horizontal stripes. What was I thinking? Flat GIRLS can wear horizontal stripes, but NOT ginormous GIRLS.
I have to go shopping in the morning because I sat here all summer wearing knit and elastic and didn't realize MY CLOTHES DON'T FIT ME NOW. I am Seriously P**** Upset.
There are not many things worse than having to shop for a larger size.
This also creates a problem for my Thursday night event. But more on that later.
Did I mention that they left the wax on my lip so long it blistered? Yes. It Did.
Lovely.
I actually look worse than Oliver.
I may or may not still be cussing just a little bit.
Bye Bye Bye
I'm thinking this will be my last post as Beachy Mimi.
The problem is, I started out to be anonymous but that didn't work out exactly like I thought it would. Too many Peeps know BM.
BM has officially embarassed the family.
So, starting Monday, I will begin blogging with my new name and be anonymous.
I'm thinking my new, anonymous name will be Meachy Bimi. Or, Eachyta Imiba.
What sounds good to you, Peeps?
The problem is, I started out to be anonymous but that didn't work out exactly like I thought it would. Too many Peeps know BM.
BM has officially embarassed the family.
So, starting Monday, I will begin blogging with my new name and be anonymous.
I'm thinking my new, anonymous name will be Meachy Bimi. Or, Eachyta Imiba.
What sounds good to you, Peeps?
Whine, Whine and Whine
Well, Beachy Mimi is still sick. My voice sounds like a squeaky...something.
I did go to the real doctor today, not Queen B's Health Educator from WalMart.
The sickness was NOT in the budget for the month. Especially the MEDICATIONS. Oh my, I had 4 prescriptions than ran about $400. With insurance.
Just the usual stuff. High powered antibiotic, cough syrup and the stuff to take after the antibiotic does the itchy thing. It rhymes with BEAST INFECTION. And, if I may say so, is a beast. Though that is actually the most important RX and it was just $3. Something is just WRONG that medicines cost so much. It makes me sick!!..hahahaha
Sickbed humor.
The Parental Unit said she would come take care of me...She walked in the door, poured a can of Rotel in the soup I was making, and left. Time nursing--10 seconds.
I guess with the Rotel I can add stomach problems to my chest problems.
Actually, this soup is pretty good and hearty when you are well.
Beachy Mimi's Sick Soup
2 cans Progresso Minestrone Soup
2 lbs. fried ground beef
2 cans pinto beans
2 cans Rotel
Fry meat, mix together for 30 minutes or so and eat. It is really better the second day.
Anyway, as the weather gets cooler here this soup just hits the spot...if you aren't having an intestinal issue. Which, I'm not, so PU's contribution was welcome.
A nurse...she isn't. It was always get better or die at our house growing up.
Now that I have my own home I don't have anyone to take advantage of and make them bring me Sonic cokes and stuff. Bummer.
Queen B...your mommy is calling...help.
She's ignoring me. She is sick, herself. In fact, she got a shot in the hiney this morning and now she is disgustingly better. And not coming near my germs.
If we lived in the same town I would so totally milk this situation.
Instead I have PU, who took Nursing (minus) -101.
I've been checking out blogs while I am here in the sickbed and I am finding something alarming. ALARMING, YA'LL.
Most everyone seems to have the Bloggy Blues. Several of my Precious Peeps are quitting.
NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOO! Please don't go. You may think your posts are not interesting, but they ARE. People in the sickbed DEPEND on your bloggy goodness.
Take a walk around the block, go to Sonic, clean out a closet...JUST DON'T LEAVE.
We all have days (like today) when nothing much seems interesting or blogworthy, but it IS.
Trust me on this. Some of us HAVE to live vicariously through your blogisms, MEMEs, awards, photos, contests, recipes, tips, recommendations...you see? YOU ARE NEEDED!
Besides, don't you secretly love your comments and statcounter? HUH? Come on. Admit it. You check. Some of you check OFTEN. Just to see if you matter to at least one person.
Well, you matter. Don't quit. There's bloggy material all over the place. MIL, SIL, neighbors, PU's, bald guys, kids, hubs, the weather...lots of stuff and it is ALL GOOD.
If I can't milk a family member for more attention, it will have to be my Peeps!
With the miracle $400 antiobiotic, I will probably be naturally blonde and weigh 50lbs less by morning.
Stay tuned.
I did go to the real doctor today, not Queen B's Health Educator from WalMart.
The sickness was NOT in the budget for the month. Especially the MEDICATIONS. Oh my, I had 4 prescriptions than ran about $400. With insurance.
Just the usual stuff. High powered antibiotic, cough syrup and the stuff to take after the antibiotic does the itchy thing. It rhymes with BEAST INFECTION. And, if I may say so, is a beast. Though that is actually the most important RX and it was just $3. Something is just WRONG that medicines cost so much. It makes me sick!!..hahahaha
Sickbed humor.
The Parental Unit said she would come take care of me...She walked in the door, poured a can of Rotel in the soup I was making, and left. Time nursing--10 seconds.
I guess with the Rotel I can add stomach problems to my chest problems.
Actually, this soup is pretty good and hearty when you are well.
Beachy Mimi's Sick Soup
2 cans Progresso Minestrone Soup
2 lbs. fried ground beef
2 cans pinto beans
2 cans Rotel
Fry meat, mix together for 30 minutes or so and eat. It is really better the second day.
Anyway, as the weather gets cooler here this soup just hits the spot...if you aren't having an intestinal issue. Which, I'm not, so PU's contribution was welcome.
A nurse...she isn't. It was always get better or die at our house growing up.
Now that I have my own home I don't have anyone to take advantage of and make them bring me Sonic cokes and stuff. Bummer.
Queen B...your mommy is calling...help.
She's ignoring me. She is sick, herself. In fact, she got a shot in the hiney this morning and now she is disgustingly better. And not coming near my germs.
If we lived in the same town I would so totally milk this situation.
Instead I have PU, who took Nursing (minus) -101.
I've been checking out blogs while I am here in the sickbed and I am finding something alarming. ALARMING, YA'LL.
Most everyone seems to have the Bloggy Blues. Several of my Precious Peeps are quitting.
NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOO! Please don't go. You may think your posts are not interesting, but they ARE. People in the sickbed DEPEND on your bloggy goodness.
Take a walk around the block, go to Sonic, clean out a closet...JUST DON'T LEAVE.
We all have days (like today) when nothing much seems interesting or blogworthy, but it IS.
Trust me on this. Some of us HAVE to live vicariously through your blogisms, MEMEs, awards, photos, contests, recipes, tips, recommendations...you see? YOU ARE NEEDED!
Besides, don't you secretly love your comments and statcounter? HUH? Come on. Admit it. You check. Some of you check OFTEN. Just to see if you matter to at least one person.
Well, you matter. Don't quit. There's bloggy material all over the place. MIL, SIL, neighbors, PU's, bald guys, kids, hubs, the weather...lots of stuff and it is ALL GOOD.
If I can't milk a family member for more attention, it will have to be my Peeps!
With the miracle $400 antiobiotic, I will probably be naturally blonde and weigh 50lbs less by morning.
Stay tuned.
Fussy Mimi
WARNING: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Hello, Therapy Group. My name is Beachy Mimi and I am FUSSY.
I'm not sure what's up with that.
Perhaps it is post-birthday sugar depletion. Hormones. Lack of sleep. Too much sleep. Not enough cokes. Too many cokes...you see where I am going with this.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS WRONG.
I've mentioned before that as I have gotten older, I take myself much less seriously than in years past. That is, I don't stress over what I consider small stuff.
I quit wearing a watch. My house doesn't have to be perfect. Laundry might or might not pile up for a day or seven.
I try to focus on the Things That Matter...Bible study, prayer, relationships, Sonic.
I very seldom get Truly Irritated With Little Things.
Well, someone has looked at me wrong or something. For two days I've been a whiny, gump-head, allergy-nose-blowing, throbbing-headache-having, ugly-crying-jagger, bad-hair-having, hater-of-everything-in-my-closet, mani-pedi-lacking bundle of JOY...NOT.
Aren't you glad you stopped by?
Plus, the hair that got lasered is now growing in abundance out my chin. Now there's a pretty picture. Add OCD tweezing to the list.
Is there a solution? How do I get out of my Selfish Pity-Party?
COMFORT FOOD.
Yep, works for me!!
I need help, Peeps. What is your favorite comfort food? Or comfort meal?
I can't even decide which comfort food to abuse. Please, give me some ideas.
After I splurge, I'm sure I will be in a better mood.
Thanks, YOU ARE THE BEST!
Hello, Therapy Group. My name is Beachy Mimi and I am FUSSY.
I'm not sure what's up with that.
Perhaps it is post-birthday sugar depletion. Hormones. Lack of sleep. Too much sleep. Not enough cokes. Too many cokes...you see where I am going with this.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS WRONG.
I've mentioned before that as I have gotten older, I take myself much less seriously than in years past. That is, I don't stress over what I consider small stuff.
I quit wearing a watch. My house doesn't have to be perfect. Laundry might or might not pile up for a day or seven.
I try to focus on the Things That Matter...Bible study, prayer, relationships, Sonic.
I very seldom get Truly Irritated With Little Things.
Well, someone has looked at me wrong or something. For two days I've been a whiny, gump-head, allergy-nose-blowing, throbbing-headache-having, ugly-crying-jagger, bad-hair-having, hater-of-everything-in-my-closet, mani-pedi-lacking bundle of JOY...NOT.
Aren't you glad you stopped by?
Plus, the hair that got lasered is now growing in abundance out my chin. Now there's a pretty picture. Add OCD tweezing to the list.
Is there a solution? How do I get out of my Selfish Pity-Party?
COMFORT FOOD.
Yep, works for me!!
I need help, Peeps. What is your favorite comfort food? Or comfort meal?
I can't even decide which comfort food to abuse. Please, give me some ideas.
After I splurge, I'm sure I will be in a better mood.
Thanks, YOU ARE THE BEST!
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