Fine, Universe, You’re Off the Hook

Last week kicked my ass. Can we all agree it sucked? ☹

Since my favorite Aunt was in town, everything was cranked up to the next level of crazy-emotional, and I found myself crying at work on THREE different occasions over things I would’ve normally bottled up and whined about to Batman. And not cute little tears that I could pass off as a tender moment of sadness. No. I straight up Ugly-Cried, guys. AT WORK. Where I have to go back and show my ugly-crying face daily. And since I don’t care enough to wear make-up, just imagine my level of sexiness. Yeah.

*shudders*

I also put my hand through a spider’s nest.

I’m going to give you a second to think about that. To really get the image. Not a web. A nest. A spider’s nest which means there was one fat momma and her *billions* of babies. Really soak in that image. Are you fainting yet?

Because I nearly did. After the scream that shook the earth (and a terrible day earlier; note the ugly-crying above) I about passed out because WHAT THE HELL UNIVERSE. Yeah, I know I don’t sweep every day since Appa leaves a healthy layer of fur on my floor, but I WAS GETTING TO IT. Why would you hide the forces of evil under my dryer sheet—with *billions* of evil babies—and then let me grab it? With my hand? The one that I use to write and CANNOT chop off even though it’s touched the lowest layer in hell and will forever be tainted.

*Barfing*

*wipes mouth*

Excuse me.

So, last week was fun. 😊

I still get sick in the morning (most mornings) and no, I’m not pregnant. I’m stressed, and my body just reacts. Though, I will say this is one of the best diets I’ve been on. Is it unhealthy? Of course. But so is depression, and that’s the next best option that I’d really rather not explore. The silver lining is that it’s been great for wedding-dress-shopping which I recently did. Want to know how it went? Let’s just call it the opposite of my spider’s-nest-drama because mom and sister helped me FIND MY WEDDING DRESS 😊😊😊

YES! I HAVE IT! Eons early, but I have it, and it’s perfect, and I cannot WAIT to put it on again (many, many months from now.) I’d *love* to describe every frigging detail down to the time of day we went and the number of dresses I tried on, but I can’t. Sometimes Batman reads my posts (sometimes…) and I don’t want him peeking in on anything his happy butt can wait to know in November 2020. If we’re besties in the real world, of course you’ll get the whole story (details included!). For everyone else, just imagine the most gorgeous, perfect dress you didn’t realize you wanted—or even knew existed. And it’s yours! GUYS. I HAVE MY WEDDING DRESS!

Okay, so maybe the tail end of last week turned out to be not so terrible. I’ll give you Friday afternoon and Saturday. But Monday through mid-Friday—WTF, Universe? And really, a SPIDER’S NEST? You know it’s the antithesis of everything pure and holy.

*shudders*

But I did find my wedding dress. And it’s so, so beautiful…

Fine, Universe, you’re off the hook this week. But only because Batman just might cry now. He swears he won’t ball at the ceremony, but this gown might be the trick. I hope so. I’d really hate for mom to lose her five bucks. 😊

I Have Cool Toys

Maybe I’m not so weird for buying a stuffed dog for three dollars at a thrift store. That baby earned me a lot of laughs at work, a lot of interest, and a lot of questions about what Batman and I do when we go “garage-saleing” and “antique & thrift store shopping”. I’m sure we should establish some sort of house rule in regards to collecting, but I’ve always thought about it along the same lines as Ariana Grande: I see it. I like it. I want. I got it. 😊

This stuffed dog is a Puppy Surprise circa 2016. True, it’s not the original circa late 80s/early 90s that I grew up with, but it’s stool cool. I bought it because I used to have one, and it wasn’t too scuffed up. Plus, there was a baby pup inside! (Rare, since these are usually tend to get lost or swallowed by the couch). That was the whole appeal of this particular toy. Puppies hid inside the Velcro pouch so girls could play mommy, and, for more animal-lovers like me, there were MORE PUPPIES TO LOVE. 😊 😊 😊

I also have New Kids on the Block Danny Barbie Doll.

Oh yeah.

I used to play with them (I had Joey) but other than the missing shoes, look how great in shape Danny is! Hat in-tact, sweater in-tact; even his famous rat tail made it! I know this seems odd, but some people collect buttons and stamps and jars filled with figurines so this isn’t that lame. And if it is to you—whatever. I have cool toys 😊

What about you? What do you like to buy and/or collect? Anything that might seem odd to others but you enjoy it? TELL ME. Please!

Let’s be weird together. 😊

Ugg. Adulting

Look who’s still being terrible:

WE ALL HAVE TO WAIT.

This woman literally infuriates me. I’ve never met her and I cannot STAND HER. And I’m a nice person! I like people. Most people. Even the weirdos (they are my tribe 😉) but this one person is the exception to my kind and gentle heart. Every time I’m on the phone with Batman and we’re laughing about something I said, she zooms past and edges her way in, and the devil on my left shoulder pokes me with his pitchfork and I breathe fire.

FUCKING WAIT LIKE THE REST OF US.

I’m only upset because she’s awful, and I can’t do anything about it. And she does it everyday, which is rubbing it in our faces. The whole thing makes me grouchy. I’m also grouchy because I’ve been falling apart a lot recently, so I’m probably mad that I have the reverse Benjamin button disease and have to age normally. I keep getting older and achier and everything is cracking. Elbows, knees, cankles. It’s like I’m walking around with my own terrible soundtrack. So, I broke down and went to the doctor.

Most of it was motivated while I was sick and someone told me I looked like I had an infection and I that I had to go to the doctor immediately and I had a panic attack and FREAKED OUT. But I was a new patient, so, I had to wait two weeks, and by that time the sickness was gone and I was fine. So, I asked about the collection of tiny bumps on my head and the weird digestive issues I’d been experiencing (aka nausea caused by anxiety.)

The bumps, much to my disappointment, were NOT my twin trying to make a second go at it thirty three years after the fact, but benign (something medical sounding) cysts, and I was instructed to just ignore them. I told Batman but he doesn’t believe me. We’re going to “keep a watch on their size” so I’ll keep you updated on nothing since they’re benign cysts. My digestive anxiety issue isn’t technically/medically diagnosed. And I highly doubt the blood test this week will say otherwise. But when I only get a little nauseous before and during work and never anytime else, I’m comfortable enough with drawing that conclusion. Stress from work causes nerves causes nausea causes sometimes getting sick in the morning. Life can suck like that sometimes—but what’re you going to do?

After another paycheck or two, I’ll be heading to the optometrist —which will make Batman *very happy—and then the dentist. Ugg. Adulting.

There are other (happier) things happening in the background, but I’ve used up enough of your time and my hands hurt from typing so aggressively.

I WILL have to say: my latest passion is Doom Patrol. Have you seen it? PLEASE go watch it! It’s about a group of misfits/anti-heroes who have to fight together to get their leader back. It’s the kind of show that you think about when your mind wanders and maybe right when you wake up. Sooooooo good. I’m going to leave this link right here for you to check it out. (Seriously, it’s awesome. Go watch it! Brendan Fraser is in it. Like, wtf has he been?)

Alright, off to flip through my twenty dollar flower magazine since I blew my spending budget on it. Got to give that baby a few turns to get my money’s worth 😊

Have a great week!

*Batman thinks girls with glasses are hot. If he’s correct, and I’m as blind as he thinks I am, my hotness level will QUADRUPLIFY. Which is hard since it’s pretty much off the charts already.

I Only Feel Half Ripped-Off

I spent twenty dollars on a bridal magazine about flowers.

I’m obviously insane.

Do I have money like that to spend? No. But I’d neglected to check the price, and I liked what I’d flipped through, and my debit card was already out, about to be swiped. Everything was in motion. So, I got it. I spent TWENTY DOLLARS on a magazine because I’m awkward and can’t change my mind mid-purchase, and because it had pretty pictures that I could use for my wedding binder. That’s it. I should justify that a little better, but I can’t. These are the decisions I make. I wanted to finish my art project and apparently, I have good taste. Twenty-dollars-good. Also dropped five dollars at Starbucks so I must’ve been on a roll.

We’re approaching mid-May and a lot of decisions are being made eighteen months out (by the way—this is going to be a wedding post. Have I not mentioned that? Now you know. Carry on 😊). We have the venue and DJ booked and are in heavy research/ correspondence with a potential caterer and florist. Woop! Four out of the big five are in the process of being checked. The photographer is the last piece of the puzzle and I’m saving that for late summer.

I have a pintrest board and if you’re even the slightest bit interested/stalkery, feel free to take a look/stalk to your heart’s content:

SEE MY OBSESSIONS

Whatcha think? I have some ideas. Batman has some too, and we think this event is going to be kick-ass. That’s the goal. Have a kick-ass wedding. Just as I imagined as a little girl 😊

Well, I’m going to flip through my TWENTY DOLLAR magazine and figure out which images will be used for the wedding binder. It’s not even that thick of a magazine. But there are a lot of really beautiful, really inspiring images, so at least I only feel half ripped-off.

Still though…TWENTY DOLLARS?!?!

What the hell Virgo tendencies? Why didn’t you pick up on this shit the second I reached for the thing? Details are OUR THING.

Trying to Skeleton-Key Us

In an effort to lose weight and look sexy at our wedding, Batman and I have taken up walking. We go pretty much every day, and the walk takes around twenty-five minutes. We’re not training for the Olympics or anything, so a speedy stroll around the neighborhood is good start. In fact, I look forward to our strolls because it’s time we get to talk about wedding stuff, work stuff and random stuff without being distracted by Appa or the phone or something needing attention in the house. Walks were our nice little time carved for ourselves.

Now we’ve got to dodge her. ☹

She’s a real person—a REAL NEIGHBOR—and she lured me in with a creepy curl of her pointer finger. Straight up evil-witch style. What does that mean? It means I barely made eye-contact while I was ACROSS THE STREET speed-walking with Batman when she planted herself in her driveway like an immovable Stephen King villain and stared me down until I noticed her. Then—and I repeat— she LURED ME IN with a creepy curl of her pointer finger. Could I have ignored her? Of course. But I’m not rude, and she saw me see her and I at least had to say hello.

So, we did.

Dragging Batman with me, we ended up in a conversation with this lady and her husband—who is either brain-washed or a victim—and about every few comments, she stopped to tell me how beautiful I was. Look, I’m uncomfortable when normal people say it in an everyday situation, but it straight up freaks me out when you tell me repeatedly while staring at me without blinking. And then, after the third or fourth mention, she asked us in for a meal. A MEAL. Like, we just met. And to be clear—what is the meal? Am I the meal? I don’t know. You could be a fucking cannibal.

After telling her that we had to get back to our walk, we managed to get off her driveway and onto the street. There was no glance-back. The second our shoes hit the pavement we were gone. We had too. We’d tried escaping a few times and even at the end there when SHE ASKED IF SHE COULD GO ON OUR WALK WITH US, I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to shake her. But we were free and we were going to keep it that way.

Yes, she’s an older lady and yes, I’m sure a lot of what I said might’ve sounded mean BUT SHE WAS SCARY. Know why she told me I was beautiful? Because she’s a body snatcher and wants to wear my skin. THAT’S WHY.

You’ll know when I stop blogging.

P.S. Batman agrees.  He put it – and I quote – “She’s trying to skeleton-key us.” I’ll keep you posted.

 

Birthday Buttons Work

Somehow, I not only forgot that it was Wednesday (last week) but I also COMPLETELY FORGOT it was the first Wednesday of the month which means I missed the IWSG post. ☹

It’s okay. As long as I don’t miss two in a row, I won’t get kicked out of the club. I’ve earned my spot in the top 100 by never missing more than two consecutive posts. So, at least I’m not out of the game yet. But still. What was I thinking? How did I miss posting my weekly blog? I’ve only been (successfully keeping up/) doing this Wednesday posting-thing since Octoberish 2017. I don’t know. I guess time got away last week.

Also: it was Batman’s birthday. 😊 That might have something to do with it.

He’s 33, which is the age Jesus was when he died, and I’ve been reminding Batman of it constantly. It’s not my fault. HE’s always rubbing in the fact that I’m six months older, which means I’m a cradle-robber, apparently? Whatever. I still claim dying first so I win. Anyway, he turned 33 and since we live in Florida, we traveled back down to Orlando because we’re adults and we can.

Destination: MGM & Magic Kingdom

Ever hear of a birthday button? It’s an actual button you where that makes cast members wish you happy birthday while “sprinkling all kinds of magic fairy dust your way.” Sounds cool, right? WELL IT IS. 😊 😊 Batman’s birthday button scored ultimate fairy dust. Like, ultimate-ultimate. So much that we are pretty much only going back when it’s one of our birthdays. (Seriously. These things are awesome).

Since Batman was turning the big 3-3, he picked MGM and the Magic Kingdom as the two parks we’d visit. The first day we did MGM and wanted to ride 1) the Rocking Roller Coast and 2) the new Slinky Dog Coaster in the new Toy Story land. Both lines were consistently at over an hour wait. The estimated standby entrance showed 75 minutes. 90 minutes. 110 minutes. Every single time we checked, (and we looped the park probably five times), it was ALWAYS A WAIT and there was no way we were standing in the heat for over an hour to ride a three-minute ride. No way. And Batman and I, being smart adults, agreed it wasn’t worth it. We’d checked both rides around 4-5 times throughout the day, but it just wasn’t meant to happen.

Enter: Guest Relations

As we were leaving, we stopped by Guest Relations because apparently, I don’t know how to buy us Disney tickets. The lady who admitted us into the park said we grossly overpaid and should see GR about getting it taken care of. We did, and everything turned out fine, but because Batman was sporting that truly magical birthday button, the lady helping us asked if there was any ride we didn’t get to do. We mentioned the Rocking Roller coaster along with the Slinky Dog Coaster, and she typed something into her system. When she gave us back our park tickets, she said we had fast passes to go on BOTH rides to be used at ANY TIME WE WANT for the rest of the day.

Uh, can I say pretty fucking magical?

We booked it to one end of the park, rode the Rocking Roller Coaster in less than five minutes, then we hightailed it to Toy Story land and rode the Slinky Dog Coaster. Ten minutes. All day long we checked and were disappointed, and we did both in the last half an hour.

Birthday buttons work. I’m just saying. 😉

Anyway, I’m going to blame missing last week’s post on Batman. It makes me feel better and he’s not here to defend himself. But seriously: if you’re considering visiting Disney for your birthday (I assume they work in CA too) do yourself a favor and get a birthday button. You’ll thank me later.

And because I remembered to take a few photos throughout the days, here are the best ones:

Into MGM. I already passed the entry sign and there’s no turning back.

Toy Story Land, everyone.

Here we have a great view of almost being trampled.

To infinity, and beyond!

The People Mover. Arguably the best ride in the Magic Kingdom.

At the entrance to the Beauty and the Beast Castle restaurant.

(Restaurant entrance)

LOOK!!!! It EXISTS!

Eating ice cream on a sidewalk. Best way to wind down Disney.

Nope Nope NOPE

I left a one-star review on a hotel. ☹

Typically, I refrain from reviewing or rating my experiences because 1) I just don’t care and 2) I forget about it minute a later, so it’s rare that I leave a comment. However, I left one about my stay in Tampa two days ago. I mean, look, Hotels.com, if you really want feedback on the TERRIBLENESS of your suggested option, I will tell you:

First: GROSS

HOW are there sooooooo many rips in the curtains? WHY are there stains in the lamp shades? WHERE did the paint go? WHY IS THIS NOT OBVIOUSLY BEING ADDRESSED BY STAFF? (Oh, and there was a tear in the “comforter” too. Batman showed me but I was too annoyed to take yet another picture. Plus, I didn’t want to think about the possible stabbing that caused it. *shudders*)

Second: LIARS

If the grossness wasn’t enough, how about the act of betrayal? Usually, I stick to my code of known name brand with a king bed and free breakfast. But we were going to be in Tampa for a night. One night. I wasn’t shelling out two hundred dollars—the going rate—for one night. But this place looked nice. Pictures were great and, if I’m to be honest (and somewhat shallow), the outside reminded me of a Holiday Inn.

BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT IT WAS PREVIOUSLY.

These fools bought (or possibly found) an old Holiday Inn and didn’t bother to renovate. You can tell it’s an old Holiday Inn because the outline of the letters are still clearly visible on the building, which means they also didn’t bother to clean. Or put any sort of effort into making this place their own. Or good. Or hospitable.

Third: EMPTY

To top it all off, they were out of candy.

I sent Batman on a mission for a bottle of water and a candy bar. He came back with the water and nothing else, and part of me died. No candy. No FREAKING candy. Ripped curtains. Stained lamp. LIED TO. And now no candy?

What. The. Fuck.

Let this be a lesson to you: stick to the code. Don’t deter from the code or else THIS will happen. You’ll find yourself candy-less in a bed where a stabbing most likely occurred, next to a set of drapes where the stabbing most likely continued. The whole place is a murder scene. You’re in a murder scene.

Stick to the code.

EDIT: I DID take a picture of the rip in the “comforter”

I wasn’t lying. Not like some “hotels.”

But seriously, how are you out of candy?!?!