Reasons for Health Insurance...

Once upon a time, I got shit-canned and needed to have my annual OBGYN appointment.  Now, really I just needed to renew my prescription.  However, the doctor won't do it if you haven't visited him in a year and/or have paid your dues.  (the insanely expensive office visit, to put your feet in the stirrups (SIDEBAR: which is still more fun than going to the dentist.  I HATE THE DENTIST)).

Soooooo.. I called my doctor, who I really like, and his total office visit was going to cost me $236.00 without insurance.  I don't know about you, but I'd like to not be thrown out of my house, so I think I will pay the mortgage instead.  My back up plan was to call Planned Parenthood to check out the damage there.  Well for a mere $85.00, I could get my prescription.  Perfect.  I made an appointment, thinking it would probably all happen in 10 minutes.  WRONG.  But after talking to Miss Mobster Accountant, I should have hit the county clinic.  Note to self:  I will do that next time.  I am sure it will take me back to my lovely ride on the Greyhound Bus.  Let me give you the quick breakdown.

Reasons Planned Parenthood Kicks Ass:

1. It's a mile from my house.
2. It's cheap.
3. The people watching might be better than the airport.  It's a toss up.
4. They have prints of Monet in the patient room, for Culture.
5. They call in your prescription.

Reasons Planned Parenthood Sucks:

1. I made an appointment and waited an hour to be seen.
2. The scale is a liar and dates back to prehistoric times before digital scales roamed the earth.
3. The waiting room has hard metal chairs.
4. A woman yelled at the employees because SHE forgot her medicaid card.
5. It makes me thankful for when I did have insurance.

SIDEBAR: I wish I had picked up several flyers about STD's just to send to my friends, and I thought about that after I left, and I have been regretting it ever since.

Regardless, I was the easiest patient they had that day. No live births, no current children, no allergies, no questions.  They were probably like WHOO HOO! 

The End.

Spinster for life?

Once upon a time, this was supposed to be a good year for me.  The year before the big one.  No, not 40!  Relax Frances!!!  I mean 35.  All things come together at 35 right?  Well I have 7 months to get it together or my life might officially end. Miss Fashionista has all ready called me this week inquiring if I was hanging from the ceiling fan.

So naturally my mind resorts to how I am a spinster.  This generally happens when I come back from a wedding.  (I've only been to both hands and feet amount of weddings)  The last one was my cousin, Mr. All-American.  I think he is 27.  Then there was 3.  So my brother isn't married (nor can I imagine him being married), and then I have one more unmarried cousin, and lastly me.

So here it is:

Definition of SPINSTER (according to Merriam-Webster)

1: a woman whose occupation is to spin

2 a archaic : an unmarried woman of gentle family b : an unmarried woman and especially one past the common age for marrying

3: a woman who seems unlikely to marry 

oh and in case you are cool and hip like myself, here is the other definition provided by the Urban Dictionary.

  

Definition of SPINSTER (according to Urban Dictionary) - there were several, I just picked the first one.

1: Old unmarried woman. Not necessarily a virgin.

I guess I like the term spinster better than old maid, because those remind me of playing cards.  

Well I am about to show you why through the wonderful world of on-line dating.  I started sending these to a friend of mine with captions, and she seemed to get a real kick of it.  So might as well pass it on.

I have blocked their face to protect the (alleged) innocent.  So here is bachelor #1.  

Bachelor #1

Let's review.  Is fluorescent wife beater tank tops the new norm?  Not unless it is circa 1990. Perhaps it is to show off the gun show?  Did he just throw the peace sign?  It's not the Beatles peace sign, but you get the idea.  Don't worry, his kids are over 18 and I think he has a job.  I get a little concerned when men who are close in age with me have a kid that's 20, and they are 34-35.  Do the math.

Here is bachelor #2.  

Bachelor #2

Last time I checked, I wasn't starring in a role in Tombstone.  SIDEBAR - Bill Paxton should have died faster on that pool table.  This is like a serious handle bar mustache, and it's a self portrait and it's in the kitchen, which I guess is better than the bathroom.  You know what I am talking about.  Really guys?  Can you not have someone, a neighbor, your mother, anyone, take a decent picture before hitting on women online? 

Hers is bachelor #3:

Bachelor #3

 First the picture is crooked with a clearly forced smile and most importantly, HE IS IN THE BATHROOM with the same shower curtain in the movie Psycho.  I mean it.  One hand a camera phone, the other hand a machete!  SIDEBAR - Machete don't text.   I also can't quite tell if that is a loofah in the background.  If it is, he is out (among other reasons) because he USES a LOOFAH.  Get a bar of soap, be a man, and get on with it. 

Here is bachelor #4.

Bachelor #4

 This is the last one, I promise.  Along with the bathroom photos, comes the I am in my car, aren't I cool photos?  This one worries me and I will tell you why.  He is 19.  So he graduated high school LAST year.  Why is he sending me a message?  I am basically Mrs. Robinson to him.  SIDEBAR - what's sad is that he has no idea what that reference means.  He does however remember the Power Rangers (which I don't).  He can't buy me an extra dirty martini, or can he rent a car if I am not mistaken.  What will we have in common?  He was born in 1993!!!  I was dreaming about my learner's permit at that point.  

The morale of this story is, it's tough out there.  I bet you had no idea.  

The End.

Tales of the Unemployed...

 Once upon a time, I woke up at like 7:45 AM not because I wanted to, but because some stupid car alarm was going off.  I was hoping that it would stop.  It did, but only temporarily.  Then it kept going off.  So I tried to dream about getting a baseball bat to smash the windows and drive it onto the freeway in a high speed chase so you could watch me on the news.  But... instead I decided to get up.  I was honestly happy it wasn't the lawn crew.  I mean why do they have to start at 8AM for crying out loud.  Oh I know, because it is a million degrees here.  I have some pretty big plans today.  I figure I will have to put some clothes on and head to the store.  You see I am out of toilet paper, and I am pretty sure that the check out person doesn't want me to show up in a sports bra and some knit shorts.  Although if it is a guy check out person, he might not mind so much.  BUT, before I do that, I have to watch Dallas.  It was taped last night and I have to leave it because that will give me something to do the next day.  I have to be very strategic about how to fill my day.  I want to know why Ann is so upset about this necklace that Harris gave her.  What the heck?  I have also decided I probably need to give myself some projects around the house to do, like spring cleaning but only I will deem it summer cleaning.  Surly there is some crap I need to get rid of around here.  My desk looks like a bomb went off and I have about 9 pairs of flip flops at the bottom of the steps.

I do actually have some social activities going on later.  I am to meet the Miss Italian Accountant's pseudo boyfriend from Denver.  He is also Italian which is totally unfair. 

I mean I realize that there will never come a day when I have a tan.  More freckles perhaps, but never a tan.  That doesn't mean that I don't  like men with olive skin and no acne.  If they cook me lasagna on our first date, I will marry him that day. 

Back to the Miss Italian Accountant.  This dude's name is something like John, but they call him by a nickname, because his last name is like Modoalfredosauce or something like that in Italian.  He is worried as he should be, because I will have to be hard on him to make sure he is worthy of my friend Miss Italian Accountant.  He does like t-shirts though, so that is a plus for him.  I mean who doesn't?  I mean if he also loves sandwiches, I might have to throw in the towel and like him.

So today I started a project, my bedroom.  It was time to clean out the end tables and the dresser.  So I start with the end tables, well I found about 10 books I have to read now.  After that, I moved on to the dresser.  NEWSFLASH:  I have about 10 pairs of the yoga pants.  Perhaps I need a job as a yoga instructor because I clearly have enough yoga pants.  The only problem is that I sometimes wonder how come my feet are so far away when stretching.  I know they are long, but I am not very flexible.  Miss MovieStar is though.  But that is a whole other story that is rather R-rated, and she will probably take out my knee caps if I blogged about it.

So after thinning out the yoga pants collection, I moved to the jewelry.  I bet I spent a good 30 minutes on my bedroom floor untangling 2 necklaces.  I mean hey, when you have some time in your day, why not?  All my necklaces are hanging by category, like beads, silver necklaces, pearls and so on.       

So then my doorbell rings, and I literally have the face of terror. 

Part of me is just hoping it is a door to door salesman trying to get me to switch to Green Energy.  So luckily I had put my Everlast shirt on.  It has cut off sleeves and it looks like I am about to either beat someone up or head to the boxing gym, but I realize, it's better than only a sports bra.  So I answer the door, and to my surprise it is a giant arrangement of flowers.

I don't care what some crazy women say about not wanting to get flowers.  I am not that girl.  I love flowers, I love getting them, sending them and it will never get old.  Plus, these have GIANT lilies which are my favorite.  They came from dear Austin friends.  It was really a nice surprise.  Perhaps I will get dressed today!

Flowers arrive the next day, with an apology...

Every day, three women die as result of abuse -- that's nearly 1,100 killed every year.

Did that sound dramatic?  Well it is actually true.  Fortunately, I have never been in a situation where someone hit me, or chocked me.  However, I have seen another kind of abuse.  Verbal.  Cue the horror music.   Luckily I can credit my parents for being positive to me and because of that I have good self-esteem.  I don't beat myself up.  I am happy.

Get ready for the shocker.  Other people do NOT have good self-esteem.  Since they can't love themselves they push all that negativity onto you.  I feel bad for the women who put up with that.  Some examples are and things that I have heard are: "you aren't the right height," "with the wrong hair color," and "the wrong age."  What is that?  My girlfriends embrace so much more in men.  I know I do.  I would take a man who makes me laugh till I cry.

That's all I got today.

Women do get out of prison...

Once up on a time, I was having a particularly long week and I was having a little bit of drama, which is pretty rare.  Don't freak out, I wasn't preggo or anything close to that kind of drama.  Now,  Miss Sweet Home Alabama likes to call it Melrose drama.  I like it, and I am using it.

Back to the story at hand.  Miss Silky Hair asked me to go to a concert in Fort Worth on a random Wednesday night.  To pull myself out of the funk I was in, I said, what the hell?  I am in.  So after work, I headed that way.  We first met up at the Magnolia Motor lounge for some food, and it was good.  I had a crazy hot dog.  So then we headed over to the Capital Bar.  It's generally a stomping group for TCU cake eaters, but I didn't care.  Miss Silky Hair had brought her rough and tough beau, Mr. The Real Deal.  He makes me feel like if something were to happen, he would probably throw down and take his giant cowboy boot and that would be the end of it.  Perhaps they would just back off.  Mr. The Real Deal reminds me of Clint Eastwood, a bad ass.  That and he uses a lot of Tabasco while eating, which I think is cool. 

So a friend of Mr. The Real Deal comes to our little gathering.  He has giant arms and a dashing smile.  I liked him.  He was friendly and nice and later in the night, we were the last two talking.  I figured he was probably a half decent guy or my friends wouldn't have taken off if they thought I was going to get snatched in the parking lot.  So we chatted and laughed and for the first time in a long while, AND it was easy. 

SIDEBAR:  I do have a text boyfriend in Austin.  That's a whole other story.  He is sweet and perfect and I like him just that way.  Did I mention he lives in Austin?  Part of my awesome luck.

So this guy, we will call him Enrique.  He wasn't all Hispanic, but a bit of Italian too.  So he offered to walk me back to my car.  I almost dropped over with the offer.  I was like what a decent guy with manners. 
SIDEBAR: I am pretty sure meeting this guy had to do with my new very trendy haircut with the indie bangs.  I am just saying.

So he did and then I drove home.  He called me to make sure I made it.  I was like holy cow, I hope this guy calls me.  So he did, on the phone. NOT via text.  I was like OMG, is this the 90's?  He asked me how my day was and that he enjoyed my company and I found out we had many similar interests. 

Fast forward a week later.  I hadn't seen him, he would call me at the end of the day on his day off.  No plans developed, he went out of town and just as easily as he came into my life he was started to disappear.   How you make ask?  Well I will tell you.

I had breakfast this morning with some very good friends in the Fort Worth Stockyards.  So Enrique called Tuesday at around 3:15pm, and I was pretty sure he was stealth calling me.  You know when they call knowing full well they can't reach you and will be forced to leave a message.  Well played.  So he didn't leave a message and so I didn't call him back.  Why? Maybe he didn't even mean to call me!  So Miss Silky hair tells me this:  Enrique got a new number.  I was like OK.  Then she tells me the most insane story.  His girlfriend from back in the day was RELEASED FROM PRISON!  I was like of course.  I have a tractor beam on me that says, oh you're insane, then yes, you should like me.  I mean what?  That has to be only things that happen to ME!  So she says, well apparently she went to prison for signing something and they had shared bank accounts and this and that and she basically came back and this is what went down:

1) She called all the girls in his phone.  (probably my stealth call)
2) She made him get a new number
3) She made him delete his FB
4) They are back together

I am like, how do women get this power and can I take a course in how to do it.  What?  I mean she is like hey, I am out of prison, The End.

The Devil is a Dentist.

 Once upon a time, it was the day I needed to go get my cleaning at the dentist.  I HATE GOING TO THE DENTIST.  I would rather see any other doctor.  I'd rather go to the Gyno.   No one says that. 

So I go to the dentist, I am a bit early because I have a hockey game to go to with Ms. Chuck Taylor and her perfect husband Level 13.  I get there and I sign in and I sit down.  The lady at the front says my hygienist is running behind.  I am all ready annoyed.  So something like years later, I get called back.

 It's time for x-rays.  Damn it.  So the lady puts those uncomfortable pieces of film in mouth and snaps pictures.  Then I go back to the dental chair, and I sit, and sit, and sit.  Now I am going to miss my carpool to the AAC.  I am pissed.  So then I find out my dental hygienist that I actually didn't hate, but liked is gone.  Of course.  They were like "well your hygienist is still behind, do you mind if Gloria does your cleaning?  She's great."  LIAR!!!  So I get some crazy woman, name Gloria.  I am sure Gloria's goal in life is to scrap the outer lining of bone off my teeth.  She takes that pick and scraps my teeth to death.  THEN, she uses the fluoride cylinder drill thingy.  Mint.  Does she ask me what flavor I want?  Hell no.  I would pick pina colada  so I could at least day dream that I am on an island with an umbrella in my mouth.  Then she flosses.  At this point, I've missed my carpool and it's been almost an hour and a half.  I am really pissed now.  So then the dentist comes to see me.  She makes a comment about my beautiful blue eyes, but that isn't going to work.  So I tell her about the space where my crown and tooth meet and that it's a party for food to hang out at.  She then tells me that I could get fitted for another crown. 

 I immediately stated that it better be free.  I said, this is the second crown right now, I had it done here and I am not paying for another one.  She tells me that there is a fee.  Of course there is.  She says well you could get a night guard.  I tell her I all ready wear a retainer at night because I am also not ever getting braces again or for the remainder of my life.  Heaven forbid you just fix the damn thing.  So then I ask if there is anything medically wrong with that tooth or the tooth next store.  She says there is not, so then my question is why are we even talking about this?  There is a space, yes, I know.  I was making her aware, that is all.  I floss, food comes out, it's all good.  She says that she can watch the tooth.  Yea, you do that.  Watch it and make sure nothing goes wrong, isn't that what I am paying for?  For the love of Pete, it's like since I didn't have any cavities, they had to find something that they could charge for me for. So I go to the front and tell them I am not getting another crown and if I do need another one for any reason, it better be gold.  I want some bling in the back of my mouth if I have to go through that pain again.  I will be pimping in the back of my mouth, and cruising with my sweet skull gear shifter. 

So now I am leaving the office at 5:30 PM.  I have to run by the house, get money, throw on my red wings shirt and head out.  I park in the million dollar parking area and haul ass to the will call.  I had to park there because I was alone and didn't want to get snatched after the game.  You pay to park in a well lit area.  I think I will rather than die. 

I also didn't get a bobble head. 

The End.

The Worst Hangover EVER...

Once upon a time, I thought I was 21 again.  It started one Sunday, let me rephrase, Super bowl Sunday.  I woke up in a good mood thinking about queso and chips.  I was excited to see the half time show because I am a material girl and this is a material world.  Who doesn't love Madonna?  So I woke up thinking about what fabulous t-shirt I would be wearing since I knew my friend the Bar maiden would be working.  I feel like I am cheating on her when I wear a clever t-shirt.  I can hear her in my head say, "Diana, you need to look nice, what if you meet someone new?"  Well if I meet someone new, it would be first, a miracle, and second they should love me for my magnificent sense of humor.  So naturally I put on my Chris Farley, "I live in a van down by the river" shirt.  Awesome.  

So I head over to the Tiger's house, since he is having the Super bowl party.  I go a little early because for starters he asked me to help.  But the real reason is that he has the attention span of a goldfish.  Ooooh a castle….10 seconds later….ooooh a castle.  You get it.  So I arrive and the first thing he says is, "I think we need more Velveeta."  I freaking knew it.  I knew I would be sent to the store.  Now mind you, the day prior, we went to run errands for the party.  This was the Tiger's first trip to the Dollar Store.  It must be nice to roll deep with wads of cash bulging out of your pockets.  The benefit is that I can usually get a new Pez dispenser out of the deal if I help.  The Dollar Store is a staple in my life because I live on an actual budget and that store has 2 categories, according to my gaybors.  "Things to eat off of"  and "Things to wipe your ass with"    I will also like to add "Aisle O' Candy"  It has an excellent candy section which will include Pez.  The Tiger was in that aisle the longest.  Besides the errands, he needs someone to keep him on task.  He has also recently learned about "the list."  If you make a list, you know what you need.  It seems to make sense to me, and I of course, love to add items to his list, and then he finds them days later.  They include items like lube, tampons, mint chocolate chip ice cream.  Basically stuff that I find amusing or stuff that I want him to buy for me.

Back to the story at hand.  So I went to the store to get 2 things.  (since the Tiger hadn't even showered yet) Velveeta and Excedrin.  So I wandered around looking everywhere for Velveeta because no grocery store puts it in the same place.  Then there is NO Excedrin.  I am like what the heck?  So then I learn that there was a recall.  So I mention this to the Tiger, and he goes, oh yea.  Ugh.  He could have clued me in!  So I come back and he starts cooking chili, and I proceed to have a beer, then 2 more beers.  All is good, the gaybors arrive and we eat some Mexican dip and it is so awesome.  So I proceed to have a few more beers during the first quarter.  I am starting to feel pretty good.  I have a nice little buzz going.  We are all laughing and having a good time.  The Tiger is swearing like a sailor and my poor mother is twitching.  She can handle the F-bomb, but you have to know that this is a scene out of Good Fellas.  The Tiger is similar to Joe Pesci.  

I can imagine him yelling about the shine box to my mother.  My mother is viewed as an innocent, delicate little flower.   I mean she isn't compared to Martha Steward and June Cleaver for nothing.  So his friend arrives with her 2 friends.  His friend is clearly a professional drinker.  She is drinking something in a cup with ice.  That is like a mystery drink and probably stronger than a beer.  So people start to leave.  The Gaybors head to a movie because they don't give a crap about football.  So there is only a few of us left.  So around midnight or later, heck I don't know, we decide shots would be a great idea.  At this point, it is always a good idea.  So several shots later, I have reached beyond my limit.  I decide to do my magic trick and disappear to go to pass out. 

The next morning…

Where am I?  I am thirsty.  It's dark.  Oh shit, do I have to go to work?  

Well I was awake and I was certainly close to death.  Picture Bradley Cooper in the hangover.  Remember his bloodshot eyes?  Well, I looked exactly like that, I only I wasn't waking up in Vegas with a missing friend, I was looking at myself in the mirror. 

SIDEBAR - I am calling in sick if I ever feel this bad again.  Mark my words!  I go to work because how I feel after a power night of drinking is my fault.  What I have learned is that I am not 21, not even close, and that I am never going to work again if I feel as bad as I did that day. 

I arrived at work (how- I don't know.)  I got there, and the look I got from Miss Silky Hair and the Flamenco dancer was a look of true horror.  They knew.  They could look in my red, bloodshot eyes.  I went back to the break room to get coffee.  I sat there, took one sip.  Miss Silky Hair bought me 2 Rockstar Recoveries.  I went back to my desk to stare aimlessly at my computer screen.  The coffee went cold.  People started to panic around me.  The day I can't drink a cup of coffee, is almost like the apocalypse has begun. 

So if things couldn't get worse, I was super nauseated.  I mean, I thought an alien was going to spring out of my stomach like in Alien.  Instead, I calmly walked to the bathroom and hurled my ever loving guts out.  I thought, surly I will feel better now.  But just an hour later, the same feeling came back around and I had to hurl AGAIN! 

 SIDEBAR: the actual title to this picture is "woman in her 30's with a hangover"  I thought it was rather appropriate

 I decided that I was never drinking again.  Then, after wanting to die for several hours, Miss Booty Shaker took me to get a greasy burger to save me.  I went ahead and ordered the cheese fries.  Why not?  It could have been my last meal.  

The day drug on as I knew it would.  There was a moment where I even shut my office door and closed my eyes.  Just for second.  My luck, and it's always my luck, the second I shut my door, is when someone knocks on it.  I mean, my door is almost NEVER closed and the minute it is, some idiot wants something.  It makes me absolutely crazy.

So finally I leave to go home, and I crawl into the fetal position on the couch with my laptop.  It was time to order a pizza and cheezy bread.  I mean, why the heck not?  My stomach was still needing some comfort and I needed someone to deliver this to me.

Then I went to bed.  I am pretty sure it was like 8PM, but what the heck?  I was tired!

The End.

Quote from my best friend Mr. Pacman, "Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride"

Once upon a time, I was asked to be the MAID OF HONOR.  When you read that make sure you say it in a voice that echos.  I have never been chosen as the maid of honor, but I can tell you that I have been a bridesmaid half a dozen times.  With the Maid of Honor comes a sense of great happiness to me.  I mean, it's like being #1 or the MVP of the wedding.  I have learned a great many things while being in weddings, or even attending weddings.  Here is a quick break down:

1) When the bride asks you what you think about her soon to be groom, smile regardless of what you think, and say these words, "if you are happy, then I am happy."  Now I will add this disclaimer.  The older you get the more you find who your real friends are.  If you are over the age of 30, you can actually be honest...either way.  

2) The wedding will always be different then what you want.  Keep that it mind and when discussing details, just say you like their ideas and know that you don't have to do it that way if one day you get married.  SIDEBAR - there will be a Pez Bride and Groom on my cake.  I am not sure others would not want to do that.  That is why it would be on MY cheesecake Bride cake.  (yes, I prefer cheesecake) White cake is stupid.  Plus, think of all the different flavored cheesecakes you could stack.  HELLO! 

3) Make sure that if there is dancing, there is a Michael Jackson song played.  Michael Jackson is timeless.  I know that most people think it is Etta James, "At Last," but for me it's Michael Jackson.  You can not discredit a fine artist who created the song, "Dirty Diana"  I am just saying. ***this statement does not mean I don't have a romantic side, but you better have some insight into my soul before you choose a song that you think is going to get my attention.  I am an onion, and some cheezy Taylor Swift song isn't going to cut it.  Make a note.***

4) There should always be alcohol. Period.

5) The bridesmaids and Maid of Honor should always be clear that the Bride is in charge, and you will accommodate to her.  It's her day and you are there to be supportive.  You will wear whatever dress she has chosen for you.  SEE BELOW.

I once did this very act.  Now, later, I did write a tiny little article and I am just going to tell you that it blew up in my face.  I never meant to cause any hurt feelings.  It was just a dress I didn't care for.  At the end of the day, a dress is a dress.  If a friendship is strong, then it will last.  I truly believe that.  I blacked out the faces, which I should have done initially.  Hey, you live and you learn right?

Those are the wedding tips I have for you.  I am sure there are several others but this is what I find to be true.  I hope that the weddings you are chosen for are the ones where you are not taking bets on the divorce date.  I hope that even though you may attend 20 weddings, that your hope to find a soul-mate isn't the slightest bit diminished. 

I've been told I am "picky"  It doesn't piss me off any less than the first time I heard it several years ago.  I have a good life, I have good friends, and I would rather be with a man that feels like my best friend (besides Mr. Pacman - he has found his love, but he knows the real me) and wants to grow old with me, than settle on some schmuck.  I hope he is OK with looking older than me.  SIDEBAR - I moisturize.  I hope that he sees me for the real me, and I hope that he does little thoughtful things for me that shows me that he thinks I am the cat's meow.  I hope he will understand that I wake up like a bear and that he doesn't mind that I can't talk too early...

The End.