Category Archives: Whining

put on a grumpy face

Posted on by

In about an hour, I have to go to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. Which is not that big a deal unless you suffer from dental anxiety, which I do, or if you’re a regular flosser, which I am not. Well, actually, I go through phases with the flossing. Sometimes I’m really good for weeks and weeks. Lately? Not so much. I actually totally forgot about the dentist appointment until they left me a reminder message on my voicemail the other day. So in other words, you’re coming in tomorrow, too late to start flossing now! You’re busted! I guess I’ll just fess up and admit that I haven’t, rather than lie about it. What are they going to do, make the sharp pointy metal thing prodding my gums even more painful than usual? HA! I’d like to see them try! I actually have a very accomodating dentist, they give you headphones and a remote to a little TV on the ceiling so you can distract yourself while they’re torturing you. Love that technology.

Anyway, because of this, I am in a very bad mood today. Oh oh oh! And remember the drugs my dermatologist gave me for that weird outbreak I was having? Well, they worked, and my skin totally cleared up. Which was great. So I stopped taking the drugs. And now? The zits are back. WTF?? So yeah, that isn’t helping my mood one bit. Y’all might want to think about sending Dave a sympathy card, as I have not exactly been the most pleasant little ball of sunshine to live with lately.

the spider bite and other afflictions

Posted on by

The scene: last night, in bed. (Sorry to disappoint, but it’s not that kind of story.) I’ve been kind of sick for the past couple of days, so I was exhausted and fell asleep around 9:00. Dave was in bed too, using his laptop. He might’ve been working, he might’ve been playing a game – honestly, I was too tired to either notice or care. Around 10:45, I woke myself up because I was frantically scratching my foot. I started scratching it in my sleep, apparently. When I woke up, I realized that there was a bump on my foot. I told Dave that something bit me. He turned the bedside lamp on, and we shook out the bedspread and inspected the sheets. Nothing. I went to the bathroom to more closely inspect my foot. Indeed there was most definitely a bite mark of some kind there, on the side of my left foot, near my pinky toe. I got out the cortisone cream, sat on the bathroom floor, and started to put it on my foot, when I noticed a spot on the sole of my other foot (the right one, for those of you keeping track). Upon inspection, the spot on the bottom of my right foot turned out to be a very dead, very smooshed spider. Jesus God, that was gross. I washed both of my feet with antibacterial soap, applied the cortisone cream to the bite mark, and put some damn socks on (even though it was hot) before I went back to bed. I then proceeded to have nightmares about giant spiders all night. Fan-freakin’-tastic.

As for me being sort of sick for the past couple of days, I’m not sure what’s up with that, but I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. Basically, I’ve had a headache nearly every day for the past 2 or 3 weeks (which I figured was probably just a sinus/allergy thing), and then for the past couple of days, my armpits have been really tender and sore. I know there are lymph nodes there, so I’m guessing that what with the headaches I’ve been having, it’s just some kind of sinus infection gone awry, which is why I made a doctor’s appointment. But let me tell you, it’s never a good idea to do a google search for “symptom headache and armpit pain,” because the only sites you’ll find will convince you that you have a brain tumor, or lymphoma, or breast cancer, or some other horrible affliction. I’m pretty sure that’s not the case here, and I’m trying not to be paranoid, which is why I’m going to the doctor.

Off-topic funny links: I love this complaint letter, which was apparently actually sent to the airline in question. (The diagrams really make it, no? Thanks to Flea at One Good Thing for the link.) And the English-to-Chinese-to-English translation of Revenge of the Sith is still making me laugh.

boundaries

Posted on by

There is something that is driving me absolutely crazy – ok, actually it’s someone – and I am dying to write an angry ranting post about it, but unfortunately, it falls under my “don’t blog about work” policy, so I have to keep my mouth shut. But damn, I’m going nuts over here. I feel bad because Dave has to endure listening to me complain about this person a lot when we’re at home, because he’s my only outlet for venting about him/her. (See? I’m not even telling you what gender this person is. It’s all very vague and mysterious. Nothing worth firing me over.) It would be so much easier if I could write about it here, and this person is allegedly going to be leaving at some point in the near future, so maybe I can complain about him/her after the fact. For now, I just have to bang my head repeatedly on my desk and silently weep. Which I guess is working ok for me so far.

Happy news: tonight Dave and I are going to meet up with our wedding photographer to get all of the formal pictures from our wedding. She said that she has some really great black and white shots, so I’m excited to see those. I’ll try to get them scanned in as soon as possible, but it’ll probably be the weekend before I’ll have a chance to get it done.

New Test Leper

Posted on by

I’ve been having this issue with my skin lately, and I have decided to share this information with the world. Here’s the deal: a couple of weeks before the wedding, I started getting zits on my forehead. Not surprising, I figured it was stress-related, and my body somehow knew that I was about to be the subject of a hundred or so photographs, so it decided to screw up my face. Fine, whatever. Good thing we sprang for the make-up artist on our wedding day. A few weeks after the wedding, I started getting bumps all over my chest. They didn’t appear to be pimples exactly, they were just little red bumps. But they didn’t itch. After I had those for a couple of weeks, the bumps on my chest started to spread up the sides of my neck and onto my jawline. Ok, fine, time to call the dermatologist. (I should mention that I already have a dermatologist because I had a particularly horrible breakout a couple of years ago, and this is the same doctor who helped me with that.) Meanwhile, Dave and I have taken to referring to it as The Plague (said in overly dramatic voice), which is basically what it feels/looks like.

I saw the dermatologist yesterday. She said that all the red bumps are indeed a form of acne, and by the way God, do I need to remind you that I am almost 30 freakin’ years old and this phase of my life is supposed to be over? Ok, thanks. So she put me on an antibiotic that’s supposed to help acne, although this is one of the drugs that I tried two years ago that did absolutely nothing for me, so I’m not terribly optimistic. If it doesn’t work, it may mean that I have to take the drug that fixed my acne two years ago, which is a rather controversial medication called Accutane. Now, while it will absolutely 100% kick my acne’s ass, here’s what I don’t like about Accutane:

1) It dries out all of my skin, not just what’s on my face, so I end up having to basically rub myself down with cocoa butter every day.
2) It makes my lips so dry that they peel, crack and bleed on a daily basis. (And I’m a lip balm addict, so that’s saying a lot.)
3) It causes such severe birth defects that the legal restrictions on this drug are insane. Each pill comes pre-wrapped in a package with a little icon of a pregnant woman with a red Ghostbusters “NO!” slash across her. I have to sign an affidavit stating that I will use 2 forms of birth control while I’m on it. I have to go for monthly pregnancy tests. (A nurse once told me that they even make post-menopausal women go for the pregnancy tests too, just to cover their asses.) I’m supposed to have monthly “pregnancy avoidance counseling” (ha!) with my doctor. Because if I get pregnant, God will murder ten kittens. No seriously, if I were to get pregnant, I would most likely have to get an abortion, and that would not be fun. Honestly, as tedious as all the hoops are that I have to jump through, mostly it just makes me paranoid. So obviously, I’m trying to avoid taking this particular drug.

Meanwhile, I have this antibiotic, and my dermatologist recommended that I also consider using one of those zit creams with benzoyl peroxide in them. I know I’ve used those types of things back in high school, and I knew I had a bad reaction to them, but the main thing I remembered was waking up with my eyes swollen shut, which is pretty horrible. So I thought, well maybe I’ll try it just on the bumps on my neck and chest – that’s far enough away from my eyes that it shouldn’t make them puff up. So when I was at the drug store, I grabbed some stuff with benzoyl peroxide in it, and I put it on before I went to bed last night.

This morning, my eyes were neither swollen nor puffy, but my neck and chest… oh my god. The redness. The itching. The color that’s been bleached out of the pillowcase (WTF?!). But mostly, it’s the Red that bothers me. Y’all, I am literally a red neck. Holy hell, what do I do with this? Make-up doesn’t cover it. I just put tons of blush on my face, so it looks like a sunburn. Which, you know, combined with the pre-existing pimples, is really super attractive.

Tonight I’m giving myself a soothing, pore-clarifying masque made from avocado and all kinds of other organic stuff. Because it was on sale at the drug store. And because I am no longer using that benzoyl peroxide crap that wants to eat my damn face off. I don’t know if there is any such things as clear-skin vibes, but if there are, please send them my way. This is getting ridiculous. Thanks.

P.S. I can’t wait to see what kind of Google hits I get from this post. Itchy red chest bumps, woo-hoo!
P.S.S. If anyone gets the song reference in the title, I will be duly impressed.

The family arrivals have begun

Posted on by

On Saturday afternoon, Mags (my future mother-in-law) and Roger (her boyfriend) arrived from England. Dave went to pick them up at the airport on his own, as I was busy renting a dump truck so Steve can haul around all the dirt he’s excavating around our house. You know those old black-and-white movies of people exercising, and they have that rubber band contraption that goes around their hips and jiggles them to death to supposedly help them lose body fat? Driving that dump truck felt a lot like what I’d imagine those machines feel like. Translation: not fun. However, it did have one of the best warning signs I’ve ever seen, which I fully intend to take a photo of and post here. After I dropped off the dump truck back at the house, I went to meet up with Dave, Mags & Roger for a drink. That was fun, but being totally jet-lagged, they were ready for bed by 6 p.m., so we left them at the hotel and headed home.

Then on Sunday, Mags and I went shopping (I needed a jacket; she needed shoes & a handbag to go with her outfit for the wedding) while the boys went out to test drive cars. Dave has fallen in love with a car, and he really wants to get it. I haven’t actually seen this car in person, but based on the pictures, I’m not really a huge fan. However, if this means that Dave is excited about getting rid of his current car that I hate, then I’m all for it. It gets better mileage, has better maintenance reviews and safety rankings, and it’s big enough to be a nice family car. So, cool. Speaking of which, Roger made the mistake of telling Dave, in front of me, that for the money he would spend on a new car, he could buy a second-hand Porsche. I piped up with, “But you can’t put a baby seat in a Porsche!” Luckily, I’m not marrying a real sports-car kind of guy, so I don’t have to worry about that. (And the baby thing is still way, way off in the future, so no worries there either.) I was very impressed, though, that my betrothed told the persistent car salesman that he would have to discuss it with his wife first. I like that he’s practicing the terminology already. After all, we’re at T-minus 6 days and counting.

So after all the shopping and car-fantasizing was done, we took Mags out for Mexican food for Mother’s Day. Perhaps not the most traditional Mother’s Day meal (originally I had intended to cook, we just ran out of time), but it worked for us. Today, while I’m at work, Roger is going to help Dave and Steve turn the mud pit in front of our house back into a driveway. Long story, don’t ask – it literally makes me want to cry just to think about it. Ugh.

in which I whine about being groggy

Posted on by

I slept horribly last night, and I have no idea why. I went to bed at a reasonable time, but I couldn’t fall asleep for ages and I woke up what felt like every hour. Consequently, this post may make no sense, and if so, I apologize. So anyway, today has been pretty miserable for me, struggling to stay awake at my desk. Thank god for the free diet coke. (And yes, I’m still drinking lots of water too. Don’t fear for my kidneys. Yet.)

Yesterday was the trial run for my hair and make-up. I loved the hairstyle, I thought it was gorgeous – although I counted the number of bobby pins when I took it down, and folks, it took 66 bobby pins to get my hair that gorgeous. That’s a terrifying thought. As for the make-up, that was good too, except that I had to keep telling the girl to put more on. Maybe it’s because I came in with no make-up on, and she didn’t want to overwhelm me, but I kept explaining that I am a southern girl and we do big hair and big make-up. She eventually got my eyes done the way that I wanted, but I’m going to have to do my own mascara, because she just didn’t get them nearly as big and curly as I wear them on a daily basis. (Even Dave said “yeah, you need more eyelashes” when I got home – and he normally doesn’t notice that type of thing, so I took that as a definite sign that I should do my own mascara.) I understand that a lot of brides want to look subtle and demure, but dammit, I am not one of those brides. I love make-up, I may very well have been a drag queen in a previous life, and generally my rule is the more the better. Glam me up! However, there is a limit – I didn’t like the lip line that she did because I thought she made my lips look too big. I usually keep my lipstick just on the inside of my lip line, and she filled it out all the way to the edges, so I felt very Angelina Jolie. Dave liked it, but it made me feel weirdly self-conscious (like my face was all lips), so I think I’m going to tell her to ease up on the full & pouty thing next time.

In other news, my mom called me at work today to ask me if it’s ok if she gets a French manicure for my wedding. As if I might have some strong moral objection to or deep-seated hatred of French manicures (or as Angie once called them, Freedom manicures). What the hell?? I think people are worrying that I’m going to be the super-sensitive control-freak bride, and folks, that’s just not true. Ask my bridesmaids, I let them pick out their own dresses! Seriously! I am the Super Relaxed and Cool Bride! I promise! Ok, maybe not, but I’m really not that nitpicky about little details. Like the color of my mother’s fingernails. For god’s sake, do some brides actually get worked up about that? I appreciate the fact that people are trying to be respectful, but the eggshell-walking is really not necessary. Sheesh.

Oh yeah, 13 days to go! Woo-hoo!!

It's not a tu-mah

Posted on by

I still have a monster headache, but things may be showing slight signs of improving. For one, I found wedding shoes! And they’re pretty, too! I ordered about 5 pairs from Zappos, and I was thrilled to discover that one pair actually fits, feels comfy, and matches the dress. Hooray! And I’m excited that Zappos has free shipping and returns, so the other 4 pairs of cute-but-rejected shoes are already safely on their way back to the Zappos warehouse, free of charge. Very nice. I also found jewelry to go with the dress, but unfortunately I can’t find a link for that. Oh well, you’ll see it when I post the wedding photos.

On Tuesday, Dave and I were supposed to go meet with our wedding photographer, and Dave had said that he didn’t want to go because he wasn’t feeling well. I went into shrieking harpy bride mode, i.e., “You have to come with me, I can’t be expected to make all of these decisions by myself!!” So he got in the car. We got about 2 miles from the house when I had to pull over to let him throw up. Oops. Apparently he really wasn’t feeling well. So we turned around and went home (with me feeling horrible for dragging him out of the house when he was sick), and we’re going to reschedule with the photographer next week. No biggie. I’m still not sure what was wrong with him, but he appears to be ok now.

In other news, there is now the tiniest, faintest sign of a dim little light at the end of this loan tunnel, but both Dave and I have become far too jaded and disillusioned with the whole process to really get our hopes up at this point. But hey, keep your fingers crossed for us out there.

Not much else is going on in our little world. We’re both still worrying a lot, but at least things are starting to look somewhat manageable. Only 3-1/2 weeks until the Big Day!