i'm waaaay too pooped to think of a good song title, so blaaaaaaaahhhh.

Um. Yes. Why did no one kindly remind me that working full time is butt hard? And it is significantly butt harder to work and have a baby in day care. And his the butt hardest to work, have a baby in day care, and a husband getting a phd. Why did know one talk me out of this craziness? Calgon, take me awaaaaay!!!
My job is actually very intersting, but with the sad side effect that people at this company actually seem to work! It't the weirdest thing, but I walk in in the morning, and NOT ONE PERSON is surfing the net! No CNN, no gossip blogs, nothing! This does not bode well for me as I am used to having my requisite 4 hours of internet surfing everyday. I don't know how I'm going to be able to handle doing ACTUAL work for 8 FULL HOURS!!! This might explain why I have been mainlining Diet Coke these last two weeks. I literally do not have enough energy to hit the space bar, much less type a whole email without it. Soooo, if I have been slacking on the personal emails, I am very sorry. I miss it more than words can say.
Aaaaaah - there's my song of the day..."I need you nooooooow, more than words can say, I need you nooooooow. I've gotta find a way, I need you nooooooow. Before I lose my miiiiiiiiiiid, I need you now".
I'm going to lose my mind if I write any more of that songs lyrics.

So, you will all be alarmed to learn that I at a dangerously low supply of Ambien. The red light has started flashing and the alarm is blaring!! Luckily, one of my fellow addicts has kindly offered to send me a stash until my insurance kicks in and I can have more. Dang insurance. Do you any of you find it a little alarming that I am actually having someone send me drugs via USPS to feed my addiction? I think I need to move to Compton and live in a crack house. I might fit in better.

So yesterday, I had a bunch of errands to run. I dropped off Ammon at school, picked up a 800 ozer of DC, went shopping at the outlets, bought a car, picked up Ammon, and went home. Full day, no?

I should also warn you that the purse addiction has reared it's ugly head again. I have found need for a different size/color/shape/personality etc. and of course the first 3 I have purchased are not QUITE it yet. I think I may be becoming OCD. But only with purses. Is there some other fun medication I can start for that?

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly...I'll do what it takes til I touch the sky

I CANNOT get Kelly Clarkson out of my head! Perhaps this is because I was belting along with her in the car this evening and the lyrics have now been permanently etched into my subconscious. Before any of you starting making fun of me for enjoying my Kelly Clarkson, I ask you to take a close look at yourselves and be honest about YOUR guilty pleasures. Is it Dr. 90210? Jennifer Lopez romantic comedies? Or maybe just everything every written about Britney that you can get your hands on? Fess up now. Enquiring minds want to know! Actually, now that I write this, I really do want to know. So let's take a survey: please respond via comment as to what your favorite guilty pleasure is.
I'll list a few more to help you along:
1) Obviously belting in the car to Kelly Clarkson
2) People magazine and all forms of gossip, including everything on E! News, especially the Daily 10. Debbie Matenwhatsenthingy gets on my nerves but I still like to hear the goods
3) Really really really stupid action movies
4) The Apprentice (and Donald Trump - he kills me!)
5) Vin Diesel
Your turn. Bare your souls! It will feel like a great weight has been lifted.

On to new subjects. Sadly for all of you, it is 1am and I am up, but I have NOT taken an ambien tonight! Yet. Seeing as how I'm still coherent enough to write this, I may need to inhale one shortly so I get at least 23 minutes of sleep tonight. What the heck is wrong with me? I didn't even have any Diet Coke today, and you KNOW how hard that is for me! Anyway, I am up surfing Ebay, bidding on things I shouldn't, and listening to Ammon snore on the couch. He conked out after we finished watching Zathura tonight, or Zenthura for you Apprentice watchers out there. (and yes, Zathura could be considered another guilty pleasure. It was actually fairly clever and charming, but that is because it was directed by Jon Favreau, my secret love). So do I wake Ammon up, or let him snooze there happily until he wakes himself up with a nasty neck kink? Tough call.

This is probably a fairly boring blogging tonight, seeing as how I am not hopped up on both caffeine and sleep meds. What a shame. Well too bad. One has to take control of one's mental health I say! And actually, I am getting nervous that the Ambien is starting to do scary things to me. Like making me exceedingly spacey. And not just forget your own name kind of spacey, but drive off the road because I am looking at the prarie dogs in the field kind of spacey (incidentally, Boulder county has more rules about safety for prarie dogs than it does for humans, so there are quite an excessive amount of them running around. they are cute little buggers though). I kid you not; I have done this enough times that I starting to scare myself, not just Ammon, Addy (if she were aware of how badly I have been driving), and all the other drivers in a 50 mile radius of me. I have also been flipped off at least 4 times since moving here (all in Boulder), and I'm not sure if that is because I really am driving like a drunken prom date or because Boulder is full of crazy, angry hippies. Probably both. It is alarming how angry all the hippies are here. It's very strange. It's as though they all have had an overdose of wheatgrass juice, and have turned into a bunch of mean, mini Hulks with dreadlocks and socially conscious vehicles.

Anywho. I am off to wake the sleeping beastie. Good luck to me!!

Gotta make a wish, take a chance, and make a change....aaaaaaah Kelly. You sing it girl!

response to yesterday...

Sadly,"the pegster", you are incorrect. The correct reference is Cinderalla via Masterpiece theatre with Jennifer Beals and Matthew Broderick. True cinematic genius. However, you get a nickel because you were close.
By the way Pegs, I've noticed you have a new name everytime you post a response. Have you become schizophrenic? Kisses.
Signed,
the mickster
(p.s. if you ever call me this i'll bite your knees off)

...a dream that will neeeeeed all the love you can giiiiiiive, everyday of your liiiiiife, for as long you LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVE!

I was just rereading over my blog because...okay I can't think of another reason than it is almost as good as hearing yourself talk. Anyway, I was rereading my blog and realized that I was much funnier in Seattle. Perhaps Colorado is not a funny state. Or maybe I am just a lot funnier when under extreme duress. I love that word. I suppose that makes sense: funny = coping mechanism. Aaaah. So since I have now entered The Salad Days and only worry about whether the orange or the red curtains would go better in the dining room, I have ceased to amuse.

In order to address this situation, I have decided to think of more things to be stressed about.
#1) I cannot go out in public without wearing an entire Joann Fabrics worth of spandex sucking in every wayward and rogue fat cell on my body. This is not good as the spandex tends to cut off my air supply ($.50 if you can name this quote: "'but mother! I won't be able to breathe!'. 'One night of suffocation isn't going to kill you'"). It also leaves VERY scary deep red canyons all over where my skin has been sucked in with too little mercy, which incidentally take hours to go back to normal. Sort of similar to having edema when you're pregnant and walk around with thumbprints in your feet all day.

#2) The amount of stretch marks I have could honestly be a world record. From neck to knees and slightly farther, I look like a striped tiger, although much less graceful and fluid (and hairy thankfully), and just a smidge less fit. No, I don't think a striped tiger does it justice. Those few of you lucky enough to have seen some of them, any suggestions? Looking for a righteous metaphor here. Honestly though, words utterly fail to describe the unholiness of these stretch marks. They are like mad beasts that multiplied underground and made giant troughs in my skin. Oh I know! They are like those nasty underground monster things that Kevin Bacon had to fight in Tremors. Man those were nasty, and these stretch marks could give those suckers a run for their money. This didn't bother me until now (I was feeling very noble and giving and put this on the list of maternal sacrifices for my little nugget) because Ammon wants to start taking Addy to the pool, and unfortunately, they tend to frown on mumus as swim attire as they tend to strangle and drown the wearer. I bought two swimsuits yesterday from the clearance rack at TJ Maxx (you can tell I don't consider this a good investment) but I am still too afraid to try them on. I just don't feel like I can inflict the site of these thighs on the unknowing public! Too cruel. I will have to wear sweats and hope I don't drown.

#3)I am stressed that I am the only person in my ward that does not own a denim dress/jumper/floor length button up skirt or vest. I will never fit in becuase I refuse to buy any of the aforementioned attire (I don't even know where you find that stuff anymore. Wasn't it all confiscated by the government back in the 80's and hidden in a nuclear waste plant?). Alright. I know. This is starting to sound snobby and judgemental. My apologies to denim everywhere. I will add for posterity that I do have a knee length denim skirt, but it in no way screams "everyone wore these in Can't Buy Me Love!", so it passed the test.

I think we'realone now (alone nooooooow); there doesn't seem to be anyone aro-hound.

Does it frighten anyone else that some unknown person keeps putting comments on my blog about buying Ambien online? Isn't that just a really, really, really bad idea? I sort of think that if I were to do it, one of three things would happen:
1) instant death by spontaneous combustion
2) i will grow large hairy horns (out of my head, I hope)
3) i will be in a perpetual state of ambien bliss, which granted, is really fun for me; not so fun for anyone trying to communicate with me, i.e. the rest of the world.
So whoever you are out there, please please please for the love of all things holy, stop suggesting that I buy drugs online, likely from some 15 year old pimply faced teenage boy with a playboy sticker on his notebook...it is giving me nightmares.


Anywho. So it looks as though I have become extremely computer savvy and have *gasp* actually learned maself real gud how to upload pictures. This is my two spastic dogs rolling with unhibited joy on their new lawn. It actually looks sort of freeing and fun, however, it did (thankfully) occur to me that the neighbors might become alarmed if they see me out there writhing around on my back with my legs in the air like a dying beetle.


I also need to post a picture of my little round-headed child. Ammon told me the other day that he was often called Charlie Brown as a kid, and this made me very nervous for Addy's future self esteem. I hope she doesn't read this someday and either hate me or feel mortified (or both). At least at this age, her little round head is totally adorable (at least I think so). Her fat rolls are pretty cute too. Have you noticed that we love fat rolls on babies and mercilessly tease those with fat rolls as adults? Not fair. I really am just an older and much larger version of Addy and I think everyone should come up and pinch my rolly thighs and chubby cheeks and squeal about how cute I am. Don't you?

And since I am having so much fun with pictures, I will leave you with two parting visual images for the day: two of my sisters in law, Neoma and Carol, who are both with child, by the way. Perhaps that explains the outfits? Behold:

Response to the horror that was last night's blog, written by: The Conscious Micaela

OK I am laughing so hard I can hardly write this! I just read over what I wrote last night, and it makes absolutely, positively, not one lick of sense! I must have missed a word at least every other sentence, not to mention just throwing the wrong one altogether in occasionally. So sorry. I am officially cut off from Ambien blogging. It is socially irresponsible. No one should be subjected to such nonsensical blather. (By the way - when I said "mean", I meant "move". Dont' ask; I don't know).

Today I continued my epic quest for the perfect bathmat, only to fail again. Now it is not too small for the space, but too big! The trauma! The travesty! However, this didn't seem to be a problem for Idgie who promptly peed on it. I wonder if that was her welcome to the house love token. I'm just glad she hasn't decided to welcome my closet to her realm. Anyway, as my mom pointed out today, it seems a trifle strange that now, instead of heading up the quest for The Ultimate Purse (which, I might add, my mother is the chief master/neurotic head hunter of - more on this to come in a later blog. My mom's black purse obsession is the stuff of great novels), I am now hunting with extreme fervor and dedication for towels and just the right toilet brush holder. This somehow seems wrong, not unlike Lisa Marie Presley and Michael Jackson's wedding of yesteryear - it just doesn't jive with our known sense of what is normal. I am an admitted and committed Coach purse whore, so the fact that I am now thrilled by a cute toothbrush holder on sale at TJ Maxx is a very foreign and slightly unnerving sensation. It is also now a bit embarrasing that anytime someone calls me, I am at one of three places: TJ Maxx, Target (a given), or Bed Bath & Beyond. I won't even tell you how many times I have been to each in the last 8 days.

OK I have to stop now because the chocolate cake in the fridge is calling to me with soothing tones..."Micaaaaaaaela...you are soooo hungry, and I am soooo soft and spongy and chocolately, you must eat me...all of me...RIGGGGGGHT NOOOOOOW!".

Aaaah!! I give!

My girl wants to party all the time party all the time party all the tiiiiime.

oiy! This is going to be a bleary one, which means extra fun for the readers! I swear I couldn't see a noodle if it was sitting on my nose.

So, the news with me and mine of course if that I have a completely altered lifestyle (no, I am not gay). I just have a new house, baby, still no job, etc. However, I am feeling much more hopeful on the point about the job. I will let you know how that all pans out. I had a strange thing said to me related to working...someone asked me if I've found anyone to babysit when I go back to work, and I said no, and she told me in strictest confidence not to ask ANYONE with clearing it with her first, and for the love of all things holy, do NOT make a general announcement becase you will have all kinds of weirdos responding who frankly cannot take care of their own kids! Eeee gads. I also heard today that some poor little one year old boy got hand foot and mouth disease from some kids in the ward he was playing with. Could land! Where have I moved into? Is this going to slowly turn into a scene from Deliverance - Mormon style (whatever that would entail)?


By the way, you have the pleasure of hearing from me today, because we hijacking our next door neighbors wireless because ours still has to be fished out of the pooper (things not going so smoothly with the comcast setup - I swear I've never seen the veins in Ammon's head get so large). Which brings up another question. Don't you all just sort of assume that when you mean, some things, and maybe many will go horribly wrong? Like someone all of your stuff falling out of the back of the truck onto I-80 because some idiot didn't strap it down right, or noticing that your dog is now mysteriously missing a leg. OK that is obviously worst case, but I think it behooves one and all to... *cliche of the day!!* ...:"expect the unexpected". Then maybe we wouldn't have so many ulcers. So what if the cable mans pants have fallen so much farther down his backside that Levi's ever intended. He'll get it done! So what if talks incessantly and gets nothing done and you may never have cable again.. Bllllaaaaaa!!! This is how Ammon is feeling. I really am getting concerned that is developing freaky digestional problems due to unrealistic expectations that we would move in, pull a big knob, and everyone would magically be set up, put away, ready to go, and all in it's rightful place. Anyone have a suggestion? I'm thinking of slipping him some valium. Would that be morally wrong?

...you other brothers can't deny. When a girls walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get sprung...

So, I am officially... a loon. Or maybe a dodo bird. Either way - picture a large, mostly flightless waterfowl, who tends to crash headfirst when it has lifted off the ground, and who tends to run into things on dry land, and you have me. With hair. And contacts. I say this because tomorrow, I am moving to another state where I know officially one person, have no job, have a house I haven't the foggiest idea how we will pay for, and a teeny weeny little girl who is used to being held all the time by her 1100 aunts/uncles/cousins/grandparents, etc. and who will now have to get used to being held primarily by her bouncy seat when mommy gets tired. Eee gads. Is this faith or insanity? There is a verrrrry fine line between the two, and one must be exceptionally careful when trying to tell the difference. In my case, I think there is a good chance I have crossed into the netherworld of insanity. I'll update you in a few weeks and let you know if that was the case.

Random Story #1 - I don't know if it's the stress or what, but I had an extremely wild and unruly hair this week and died my hair the MOST horrific and unearthly shade of orange you have ever seen. You know how some colors wash you out? This one actually made my face disappear completely. The ironic thing is that my husband actually liked it - he said it looked retro. This proves one of two things, or maybe both: 1) he is color blind, or just completely blind, or 2) he has as much taste as a giraffe. Also ironically, most of our male friends that saw this horror agreed with him. Perhaps all men as a gender are color blind? Except the gay ones. I'm pretty sure my friend Omar at work would have told me (and rightly so) that I looked hideous and to go get it fixed post haste. Which I did by the way. My hair color is now one that can actually be found in nature's wide palette of haircolors.

Sidenote: OK this woman on What Not To Wear has the biggest boobs I have ever seen. Why do such a large percentage of women with larger than F size boobs tend to wear the smallest tops they can find? What is this? Do they think that if they put on a size small their XXL boobs will magically shrink? I'm interested to see how Stacy and Clinton cover those bad boys up. I think they're going to need a tarp. Do they make tarps in cashmere?

Pardon my madness - I just realized that this is an extremely random blogging today, but nothing can be done. I have been so spastically stressed out and crazy that it's a miracle if I complete a full teeth brushing without thinking of something else I need to do and running off to take care of that instead (with toothpaste foam still dripping out of my mouth). Speaking though of crazy things people do when they are stressed - I have another fun Ambien story, Good land I love this stuff. Please don't think I am a naughty drug addict - just another person who really enjoys the medication legally and ethically prescribed by her doctor.
Anyway - Random Story #2. I heard this story about a woman who was gaining an absurd amount of weight for no good reason until she discovered that in the middle of the night, she had been horking down giant 24 packs of hot dog buns like a ravenous wolf, and then going straight back to bed and not remembering a single thing in the morning. True story. One night last week, I noticed that there was a bag of Skittles lying on our table that had been there for several days. I remember thinking to myself that I either needed to put them away or throw them out so I wouldn't be tempted to eat them, which was pointless because I only like the red and purple ones anyway (yes I am a Skittles discriminator). I got up the next day and proceeded to give my husband a very bad time for being a pig, because the Skittles had been carefully opened, mostly eaten, and then laid carefully back down. I was very confused and incredulous about his denial until I poured the remaining Skittles out to discover...you guessed it...there were only orange, yellow, and green left. Apparently I quite painstakingly opened the package and selected out my favorite colors without having any conscious awareness whatsoever about what I was doing. This actually scared my husband - he thinks I am now going to become the crazy night fox who attacks all carbohydrates after 1am with a vengeance, but remains blissfully unaware the next day.
I suppose he may have a point, and there have been a few other MINOR incidents to make him think this may not be the best route to take for my insomnia. Good example: the other day, I actually ordered something off of TV and from an infomercial. The Super Slim Shaper to be exact. I have a vague recollection of thinking that maybe I shouldn't buy it since I was feeling a little tipsy, but that went away quick and out came the credit card. Apparently I have also started shouting crazy things in the night and flailing about uncontrollably. According to my husband, it was "Addy fell out of the bed!!!!!!!! I can't find her - she is not in the bed, she fell OUT AND YOU HAVE TO HELP ME FIND HER!!!!!!!!w@#$@$##@%%$%$#% ". Snoooooooore. I of course have to memory of this one either. Oh and my kind friends will tell you that I have also started Ambien emailing, which is akin to drunk dialing, where I send out an email some random friend sounding like a total whackjob. I have started cringing everytime I open my Sent folder.

With all the above info, I would like to pose a vote.

Vote A if you think I should stop the madness and go cold turkey on the Ambien

Vote B if you think these stories are pretty funny and you want to see what bizarre thing I will do next. And you like me well rested (my Vote would be B).


I'll keep a tally:
A = 0
B = 1

Alright, time to go drunk dial; I mean Ambien email.

Smelly cat; smellllly cat: what are they feeding you?

OK this should be interesting. It's 12:30am and I just took an Ambien, so we'll see how long this lasts, or how crazy it gets before I faceplant into the computer. If I start writing about noodles and tulips, just move on to the next blog. Anyway. I took an Ambien because I was lying in bed trying to use reverse pschology on myself to make myself sleep: "do not go to sleep; dooooon't sleep; do NOT go to SLEEP!". Note: when one is trying to get oneself to sleep, one should avoid yelling things at oneself in ones' head. It is counterproductive.
Let's be honest though: the real reason I took an Ambien, other than the nice side effect of sleeping for 7 hours, is that I really, really like the super drunk feeling you get when it starts to kick in. You get all dizzy and unstable - it's very fun. I took one about a week ago, and I was watching Superman II on TV, and I was so into it that I wouldn't turn it off even though there were two each of Christopher Reeve and Gene Hackman and I spent most of the time trying to figure out which of the two was the real one. Sidenote: did you realize how absolutely ridiculous and cheezy those first two Superman movies were? Especially the part in the first one when he takes Lois flying and she is saying in her head "Can you read my mind? Do you know what you do to me? I am yours if you want me....", yada yada yada, sap sap sap. Another example of unproductive self talk, as apparently, Superman does not seem to read minds as he didn't take advantage of Lois until the second movie. Bygones.

So you may be wondering why I am not sleeping? Well, it just MAY have something to do with the fact that I am trying to close a mortgage raise a baby find a job pack my life find a moving truck not lose my mind be a nice wife not shoot the dogs run 1100 errands and get rid of this nasty little cold I have added to the pot for extra fun. I would also like to add that I have become a very poor email corresponster (no, that was not the Ambien talking - it just looked like a fun word) and I would like to apologize to anyone I have not responded to in over, say, 10 weeks. This seems to be the going rate of return, so if it's been 9 weeks and you're getting ancy, just hold your pants on. Alright, I am annoying even myself with all this complaining. I will cease and desist.

Unfortunately for you and me and the longevity of this blog, I cannot think of another topic. I am CONSUMED. Have you ever found yourself at a really stressful point in life, where your thoughts always drift back to whatever it is you were worrying about? I find it sad and a little wrong that I lie in bed atg night thinkind about things like whether we should give away one of our two Costco sized ketcup bottles (food storage gone horribly wrong) or haul them to Colorado, and should we pack my husbands guns in a long skinny box of their own, or just throw them in the van and hope they don't shoot the dogs in the hiney? Am I ready to pack up the cornmeal I bought 2 years ago and never used, or do I want to leave it out in case I get a wild hair in the next 2 weeks and decide to make 40 batches of cornbread? And why do we always end up with more cake mixes than frostings? There is something wrong there. Can you tell I am looking at my pantry? Perhaps I should clarify that no, the guns are not in the pantry, that just happened to be a refugee thought that tagged onto the food line of thinking.

I sense this is starting to not make sense, especially since it took me 10 mintues to think of the word "cornbread", so perhaps I should stop for the evening and go see how many Christopher Reeves I can find in Superman III.

A couple of parting thoughts: I want to announce to the worlds that our Ghostbusters and Say Anything posters arrived yesterday in preparation for our 80's dance party to be held on the 29th in honor of ME ME ME, oh, and the fact that we are moving. So those of you out of staters - please feel free, nay, compelled to post your favorite 80's song to add to our play list for the event.

Final Though #2: You will notice I have changed my blog titles. They are now either the lyrics of the song I have stuck in my head, or the most ridiculous ones I can think of at the moment. If you can name that tune, I will give you $.12. But not today's - it's too obvious.

And that makes you larger than life...

Alright, who is P-Funk??? Someone out there posted a comment and I have no idea who you are. All I know is that anyone that inadvertently snorts Diet Coke due to excessive laughter is a friend of mine.

OK I had just had a large swig of The DC and I am seeing stars. Is that normal? I am assuming this is either do to a diet of DC and chocolate, or the 3 hours of sleep I got last night. I feel pretty, oh so pretty...I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaaaaay!