Stupid immune system!

I am sick. AGAIN. I swear, I have caught every single bug and virus that has gone around this year. I missed two days of work last week and I still feel like complete crap. Since I am unable to breathe, much less think, here is something funny that came through my myspace. It made me laugh. Of course, that maybe because of the numerous drugs I am taking in order to get through the day.

I have no idea if George Carlin really wrote them, and... well, actually I don't care. It is still funny.

GEORGE CARLIN'S NEW RULES FOR 2007:

New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days -- mowing my lawn.

New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Lobster?

New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged. I have a better description for these kids: "Lucky bastards."

New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're a dope. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.

New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: Do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.

New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.

New Rule: Stop screwing with old people. Target is introducing aredesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis .

New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande, half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low, and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge asshole.

New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.

New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.

New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the U.S. Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."

New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&Ms. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.

New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie.

New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.

New Rule: And this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your web cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.

New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to hear "27 months." "He's two" will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place. And if your child 7 years old..they're 7!..not 7 and a half or 8 and a half, and so on and so forth. You're an friggin' idiot for teaching your kid that kind of aging. If you were to ask my age and I said 57 and a half. You would look at me funny and say I was weird. DO YOU GET IT?

a little purge of the emotional closet

I hate having things to dread. Dread is such a stressful emotion. There isn't much you can do to change it. And, yes, the actual event is generally not as bad as the weeks of stomach cramping agony you put yourself through, but that knowledge does nothing to alleviate the feeling of impending doom.

I hate being interrupted when I am telling something I am excited about, especially when I am interrupted - not once - but three times... and never asked to finish my story.

I hate being the third wheel. That is happening more and more often lately, even when I started out being the first wheel who planned the event.

I am sick to death of everything coming back to my weight. Everyone has a comment on it, and it is considered to be the root of all my problems. I can go to the doctor for a sinus infection, (or in this case, a pap smear) and we have to have a big discussion about my weight. I swear, if I have cervical cancer, it is not because I am fat.
I hate that drugged up feeling of not getting enough sleep.

I hate when I know that I am on the verge of blowing up and I know if I do it, I will regret it wholeheartedly, but I also know how good it will feel for about 15 minutes.

Honesty, best policy, blah blah

Elizabeth is like a lot of seven-year-olds when it comes to food. Mention something new and she is all, "EEWWW!! I don't like that!" Pretty much if it isn't dipped in chocolate and full of sugar, she just doesn't want it.

Well, tonight, I tried an old recipe of my mom's, a dish that contains cabbage. I have not cooked cabbage at all in a really long time, and I figured that the mere mention of the word would start her whining up again. So, when she asked what we were having, I did what any tired, overworked and unappreciated mother - who slaved in the kitchen for an hour and a half - would do... I totally lied.

"We are having lettuce stew." I said.

She loves lettuce, oddly enough, and I figured this would be an easy out for me.

We all sit down to dinner and Marty and I are sneaking secret glances her direction as she enthusiastically eats the "lettuce".

"How is it?" I ask.

"YUMMY!!" she responds.

A few minutes later, she says, "You know, when lettuce is cooked, it really tastes a lot like cabbage and I LOOOOVE me some cabbage!"

I think Marty and I both choked simultaneously.

"When did you ever eat cabbage??" I asked.

"Oh, they used to make it all the time when I was at daycare, and I ALWAYS ate seconds. Cabbage is one of my favorite foods!!"

Yes, we eventually came clean and admitted that we were big liars.

Crappy New Year!

This year has gotten off to a terrible start. I hate that. I always like the New Year, because everything seems... fresh. But I have a bad feeling now, that the rest of the year is going to be badbadbad.

For one thing, Marty started some kitchen renovations on the Friday before New Years, and pretty much made a disaster of it. He slipped and fell and spilled an entire sprayer full of sheetrock mud on my floor... where we had NOT taped off. Then the sheetrock didn't dry overnight, and he had to work the next day, so I rang in the new year with no kitchen. That is not good.

Now, my best friend isn't talking to me because she is "frustrated" with me and my boss wants to have weekly meetings about my "feelings" because he thinks that I am internalizing my anger and frustration and that is making me "edgy" (his word, which means "a complete and total bitch, all day, all week, all year").

For some reason, my cd player in my car is acting up... all cd's skip.... EXCEPT Hannah Montana. WTF is that about? However, Colby has learned most of the words to "Best of Both Worlds" and Elizabeth has taught him some dance moves to go with the song... That makes Marty so proud.

I rented four DVDs yesterday and got home... and my DVD player has quit working.

My dryer hasn't worked in three weeks...

It is already six days into the new year and I am already tired of 2007. I want a do-over.

I actually went into the bathroom yesterday at work and grinned at myself obnoxiously in the mirror for a good 5 minutes to see if it would release some endorphins and make me feel better...

It didn't work.