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Archive for the ‘Ouch’ Category

My week. Um, yeah. What can I say?

I have bronchitis. After taking two days off last week to rest my sick ass, I can’t take any more days off for a while. So, I’m working sick.

Coughing up a fucking lung.

I returned the $300 boots. I just couldn’t justify keeping them. I already have about 60 pairs of shoes. So, I hobbled over to Kenneth Cole and returned them. When the saleswoman asked why I was returning them I said, “I was drunk when I bought them.” She laughed.

My blisters are insane. The one on my pinky toe (wee wee all the way home) is so deep that it’s been bleeding all week. I haven’t been able to wear pretty shoes and anything less than two bandaids wrapped around it is excruciating.

On Monday I had to appear in court as a witness for Karen’s, the homeless woman, trial. I haven’t heard from her in about 2 months and so, I wasn’t feel that tickled about going. But, I got a formal subpoena and had no choice.

I got to the courtroom and Karen was there, looking clean and…well clean. I spoke with her attorney and then I approached Karen. She told me that she got help for her drug addiction and has been clean for about a month. And she found a place to live. She is living in a house with someone that her treatment program hooked her up with. The doggies are with her.

So, she turns to me with tears in her eyes and she says, “Debbie, I would never have gotten help and found a place to live without you and Gary helping me.” I gave her a hug.

I know that I was cussing her out and very pissed about her not contacting me. I felt duped and that I was taken advantage of. And now…

All I have to say is that helping people really does work.

I have officially canceled my radio show. I think that I can safely say that it’s the moment when this blog ‘jumped the shark‘. I’d rather save my good stuff for this space. We’re coming up to our two year anniversary here and I think that I can do better than I’ve been.

That being said, I’ve been thinking about something all week and I thought I’d share it.

I think people throw around the word bitter too easily. When someone is justified in their anger, frustration, annoyance, or mistrust, it seems people are quick to chalk it up to bitterness. Is that the right reaction? Are most of the people labeled ‘bitter’ really so? I want to hear from you, tell me what you think.

Oh, and I’m going to try to update all of my blogs by Sunday. And catch up with all your blogs.

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I woke up yesterday morning and blew my nose for about an hour. Then got ready for the Food & Wine Festival in Atlantic City.

So, I knew it was going to be a special day when my friend (one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met…yeah I inherited her, it’s a long story) called me repeatedly to ask me when I was leaving. Cause she wanted to leave from a different train station than the one originally picked. She made this decision about 15 minutes before we were all supposed to meet.

For crying out loud.

I got to my friend E’s house and we had a bitch session about M (the annoying friend). You see, this whole trip was her idea. So, we felt that she was the one that should make the plans. That’s how I roll, people.

We meet up and are off to Cherry Hill to catch the train to A.C. There were supposed to be 10 of us going, but I noticed that two of us, A and J, weren’t at the train station. We got to the next station stop and see them board the train. Apparently, they didn’t get the message we were meeting at a different station. J started bitching M out, called her a ‘dit dit dah‘, and she said, “It wasn’t my idea to change stations.” We all looked at her like she’s a fucking nut.

It was totally her idea to change train stations.

We haven’t even gotten to A.C. yet.

The festival was being held at the A.C. Convention Center, which is right next to the train stations, so it was little drama getting to the show. I grab a couple of bags and go to the first table to taste some wine.

I notice that the rest of my friends are standing around arguing, erm, discussing which way they were going. I couldn’t deal with this, so I just went off on my own. And I had a great time.

I hit the beer aisle and sample away. By the time I get to where they’re hand rolling cigars, I’m a bit tipsy. I bought two cigars and decide to hit the food tables to soak up some of the beer I just drank. As I walk over to that part of the room, I see my friends.

I start hanging out with them around the vodka and other assorted liquors aisle. By the time I made my way over to the wine tasting, I was quite buzzed. I did buy a loaf of foccacia bread to eat and it helped.

I bought some organic chai tea, garlic oil, a bottle of cabernet franc, a bottle of pomegranate vodka, some interesting salsa, and pair of socks with martinis on them (I’m a dork).

My feet were killing me. I was wearing boots with 2 1/2 inch heels and didn’t think that would be a problem, but I hadn’t realized I would be on my feet for 4-5 hours. As we were leaving the festival to go to dinner, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I took my boots off and walked to the restaurant in my socks. Yes, through the streets of A.C. in my socks.

We got to the restaurant at the Continental at the Ocean One Mall on the boardwalk. Dinner was okay, I’ve had so much better. I’m not a huge fan of Steven Starr restaurants (he’s huge in Philly). I got a salad and a martini.

Now, I’m not cheapskate but when I go out to dinner I’m not big on splitting the bill if some people have went overboard. I just find that those most eager to split the bill are those who order the most expensive things. I’m cool with ordering expensive shit, just pay more.

Well, that’s what happened last night. I was more interested in spending my money at the festival, not on dinner. I would have been happy at a diner. I looked at my friend M and her boyfriend, and told them I was paying for my shit and that’s it. I threw the money down on the table and said I was going to walk around the mall.

This isn’t an ordinary mall. It has stores like Louis Vuitton, Coach, Burberry, Juicy Couture, and Kenneth Cole. I walked into Kenneth Cole because a particular pair of boots were screaming my name. Yeah, I could hear them as I was walking by. I ask if they have a brown pair in my size. I also see a pair of snake skin ballet flats on sale. I ask to try them on too.

The flats are adorable. I’m sold. I put on the boots next and I fall in love. Just as I stand up, A walks out of the dressing room and she agrees that they are gorgeous. The salesman then tells me if I buy both pairs of shoes, he’ll take 30% off the bill. Fucking sold, I say.

So, yeah I spent $300 on two pairs of shoes. But the leather on the boots is like butter. They are absolutely stunning. I feel a little guilty about the purchase, especially since Christmas is coming, but I think I will get over my guilt easily.

I wear the flats out of the store, as I still had my boots off from before. We’re all ready to leave and we start walking to the train station. My left foot is a little bigger than my right and the shoe is starting to really dig into my skin. About a block later, I feel like razors have sliced the skin on my left foot. I know it’s bleeding and I take the shoe off. And the sock. And walk barefoot. My little and big toes are mangled.

And that, my friends, should have been the end. Except E seemed to have way too much to drink and barfed on the train. Thankfully, my nose is still stuffed up so I couldn’t smell it. She had a bag, so no mess. We’re a prepared group.

I got home and soaked my foot in an Epsom salt bath. The blisters are still oozing this morning.

I also feel like a train hit me today. I’m not hung over. My cold is killing me. I’m coughing a lung up and blowing my nose every five seconds. My lips and nose is chapped. I could sleep for a week.

I came home to find out that Mullet Man was again on the property and the police were called. I’m so glad I wasn’t home.

I also got a DVR. Um, I am deeply in love with this already. I can record my “Namaste Yoga” program so that I can do it in the morning. I can record shows I want to watch and don’t have to worry about being able to stay up to watch them (sad sad sad). This is fucking awesome.

Okay, I’m going. I’m not feeling that great and want to cuddle down on my couch.

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Okay, I know I’ve been a slacker with commenting on blogs or answering the comments on here. You’ll just have to forgive me. I’ve been distracted.

I’m better today. I did have a headache almost all day, but it’s gone and I’m cool. I just mentally double Donkey Kong punched all of the fuckers in my life and it’s amazing. They should write books on this kind of mental exercise. None of that peace and love shit. Just mentally beat the shit out of the losers and fucktards in your life. I felt energized.

I have more bad news. It’s not really new bad news, as I’ve known for a few weeks. I have permanent eye damage in my left eye. I can see, but there’s a big spot that the doctor told me would be there forever. FOOOORRRRRRRREVVVVVVEEEERRRRRRRRRR!

Don’t feel bad for me. At least I can see out of the eye.

I am going to hold my radio show this Wednesday. I’ll be doing it from TN and I will most likely be drunk, so you should really tune in. If you think my drunk posting is hysterical, yeah….I’m better live.

Now, I got an award from Just a Girl. I’m not sure if I deserve it, cause I’m not always nice. You know, you need to sometimes be a bit mean to get through in life. People are like rabid dogs and will sniff and attack someone who hasn’t marked their boundaries. Weird analogy, yes. Here’s my award.

Now, I have to list 5 other nice bloggers. Here it goes…

  1. Fleas Thoughts: She sent me postcards from her super cool vacation. I have all of them hanging up in my office. I love postcards. She didn’t just send postcards to me, but to anyone who asked. How nice is that!
  2. Dee: I work with Dee, so she knows first hand some of the retarded things that happen at my job. She has also witnessed the Comfortable Shitter doing her thang whilst gabbing on her cell phone. Yeah. Let that one sink in. Anyhow, Dee puts up with my blabbing her ear off at whatever and I appreciate it.
  3. Yllwdaisies: Cause she’s been one of my readers since the very baby steps of this blog and is still reading. And because I always learn something from her blog. She’s the shit.
  4. B: I believe she might be my complete opposite. And yet, I think we have a lot more in common than you’d think. You just have to look deep enough.
  5. Steph: Okay, this woman has a gazillion readers and comments (I’m not joking, go over there and look) and yet she ANSWERS EVERY COMMENT MADE. I’m awestruck by her. I love her and I believe she is my Aussie sister. Seriously, I read her stories and say at least 10 times….”Yup, this is me.”

That’s all. Remember to volunteer to guest post. All three blogs (Fresh Air Lover, Coquettishly, and The Home Cook) are open to posts.

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Another Debbie moment…

I have spent the day at a margarita party, swimming and drinking and having fun. Until I hurt my eye. There were a bunch of us playing this weird game we made up with these frisbee looking things called “Aquaskimmers”. Basically you skip them across the water like you would a stone.

So, we were skipping these things across the pool and it was getting quite competitive. I was talking to someone standing on the deck and when I turned back to the game, I caught the thing with my eyeball. Literally. It hit me dead on.

I immediately get out of the pool and ran into the bathroom. Amazingly, my eye wasn’t bleeding and my contact was still there. But….well, have you ever gotten hit with something very hard directly in the eyeball? It fucking hurts. I think my eye is scratched pretty bad. I took my contact out and I’m getting these weird streaks of light in the peripheral vision of the eye.

It’s aching pretty bad right now. The whole eye is red. I’m going to wait until tomorrow to call the doctor. Hopefully it isn’t worse when I wake up.

I’m a little scared.

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Yesterday I felt like shit. I didn’t go to work and spent the whole of the day either in bed or on my couch. I was in a terrible funk. The old next door invited me over for dinner and although my stomach wasn’t feeling 100%, I told her I’d be there. She made chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese for me. How sweet!

So, I finish dinner and come home. I started feeling a bit achy again. I got some tea and relaxed on the couch. Suddenly, it hit me like a high-speed train. A migraine the likes of which I had not felt in recent memory.

It came with no warning. I get up and search for some pain killers. None were to be found. I was cursing myself out, cause I always have something in my house. The pain got so bad that I couldn’t trust myself to drive, so I sat in my migraine position (back against the wall, knees up, head resting on a pillow on my knees).

At one point, the pain was so bad I think I got delirious. I started thinking that maybe it wasn’t a migraine, but a brain aneurysm and that I was going to die. I started crying because I started wondering how long it would take for someone to find me if I died tonight, it being the weekend and all. Would my cats start eating my flesh from starvation before someone found me?

Sick, I know. I was in so much pain. I threw up several times. By 1 AM, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got dressed and drove to the 24 hour pharmacy. I got in the doors of the store and I was blinded by intense pain. It was so bright in the store, it made me lose my mind. I walked in and asked the woman at the counter to help me. There was a cop in the store, so he asked me what I needed and I told him I needed some ibuprofen. I gave him my money and walked out of the store to sit on a bench where it was dark. He came out with my pills and my change. He asked me if I needed help getting home and I told him no, that I lived close by.

I got home and took 10 pills. That’s right, 2000 mg. I laid down on my couch and prayed to all of the goddesses that ever existed to make the pain go away.

I started feeling better around 3 AM. I fell asleep around 4 AM.

I have the day off, it was scheduled, and I’m not feeling up to anything. It was such a terrible night and I still feel the lingering jolts of pain of the migraine.

Have a great weekend, my loves.

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Last Thursday night I went to my friend’s house for a bit of wine and relaxation. I wasn’t going into work the next day, so I was able to have a proper night out. My friend’s husband was having a few of his buddies over to watch some basketball. I was laying on the couch and my friend was laying on the floor of their formal living room. We each had about 3 glasses of wine and were feeling quite good.

The game was over and Ron, my friend’s husband, comes up from the family room with 2 other guys. I know the one, but I had never seen the other guy before. He was fucking gorgeous. So, in true Debbie style I ignored the gorgeous guy. I stay away from men who are too pretty. Old habit. Long story. Someday I may tell you.

Anyhow, Ron got a couple new bottles of wine out and the guys sat down with Kelli and I. We were talking about all kinds of stuff. Mostly funny stories and how retarded we all are. I couldn’t help but notice that hot guy, who is named John, is staring at me. Now, I don’t read too much into this as I am a little drunk and sure I look a mess. After about an hour I decide it’s time to go home and leave. I had to cook the next day for the baby shower.

The next day, I get up and go to my mom’s for a day of cooking my ass off and fun with the baby. Funny, but I thought about the guy several times that day. There was something about him. When I get home that night, I’m exhausted and don’t even want to check my email but I do. There’s an email from John.

Huh?

It basically says that he’s really attracted to me and asked me if I’d like to have dinner with him. He leaves his phone number. I’m definitely attracted to him too, but….

…here’s how I’m an ass….

I write back that I’m really not interested in starting a relationship now, but thanks. I know, I’m an idiot. But, I know how these pretty boys operate. I have no interest in being the ‘good enough for now’ girl. A bit jaded? Yes, I know.

Well, he writes back. He’s not taking no for an answer. It seems that my dear friend Kelli has filled him in on me. He’s ready for my tricks.

I’m fucked. Cause now I can’t stop thinking about him.

He writes me another email. I try to bullshit, again, about how I’m not ready for anything. He’s still not buying it. He has my phone number now. My friend thinks he’s perfect for me. He leaves a few messages this week. He’s not acting like a stalker. He’s actually laughing at me. My friend says he’s determined.

I get the background info on him. He’s 36, brown hair, green eyes, tall, looks good in glasses, and never been married. Has had several long-term relationships. He’s got a great job, I won’t get into that now but let’s just say that he’s really really really smart. He’s been Ron’s friend since college and has just moved to this area. He actually likes living in NJ, which is strange. Kelli loves him. She says that he was taken with me.

I finally spoke with him on the phone last night. I’m going to dinner with him on Friday night. He’s picking me up at 8. He told me to dress casually. He’s not a fancy kind of guy and is best in a casual setting.

I hate fancy too. So far, so good.

I must admit, I’m really excited for this date. Let’s hope I don’t fuck it up and that he doesn’t turn out to be like this freak.

My feet have been torn apart by my shoes. Yesterday, I wore a pair adorable flats. Looks can be deceiving cause they chewed my feet up. Today, I wore a pretty pair of black heels and the blisters on my poor feet were further aggravated. Now, I’m sitting here soaking my bloody sore feet and hoping that I can put on the sneakers I’m wearing tomorrow. Why must I have paper thin skin on my feet? Anyone got an answer for that?

For the ladies:


Cute, but evil, brown shoes.


Black heels.

I’m kind of bummed out that my legs are hurting me again. I ran yesterday and Monday, and my legs were killing me. I’m buying a new pair of sneakers this weekend and I’m going to a specialty running store. Someone suggested I go there because they fit your shoe on you and test your feet to see what’s best. I think this will help tremendously. I just wish my legs would work with me, since I want to run the Race for a Cure and I also want to be able to wear this costume for Halloween so it’s essential I run. It’s the only exercise I really like doing. If the new sneakers don’t work, I’m going to have to start riding a my bike but I’m not too thrilled with that idea since the long bike rides make my crotch hurt.

Oh the dilemmas I have.

Kisses.

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