Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The one in which I try to post from my kindle...

    Right, so clearly I have not blogged in like, countless aeons (unless one counts my relaunch post http://msbehaved.com/2013/04/01/cheers-from-new-associate-editor-shannon-humphreys/ over at www.msbehaved.com), but Hey! Here I am now, so it's all good, right?
     Um, the truth is SO much has changed that I don't know where to begin.  So, fuck it. I'm just going to start where I am, and we can all play catch up as we go along.  Today we found out that the books I have been studying for my Life In The UK test from are out of date! So Jim ordered the new 3rd edition, (which should be here tomorrow) so I can start cramming, which I believe I am now legally required to refer to as "revising".  Check my British flow, yo!
    The 5 year old has started 2 weeks holiday.  I am not 100% sure either of us is going to survive.   Do you know what? I kind of feel like a dirty cheat for doing this.  Like I should be saving up all my words for Ms. Behaved.  OMFG, Ms. Behaved!!  Let me talk about that!  I mean, if I'm going to slut it up, right?
     So, long story short, Sarah had a ton of stuff on her plate, and decided to hand the Site over to Bianca, who is totally like, super magic makes shit happen and gets stuff done person.  Seriously.  The amount of balls she's got in the air blows my fucking mind.  I live in serious awe of her ability to get shit done.  ANYWAY! She has, for some mad reason I cannot quite fathom but am insanely grateful for, decided to make me an associate editor.  Do you die?  I fucking DIE.  I am totally kid in a candy store over the moon about this shit.  It sounds impressive, right?  Am I a grown up, yet?
   Also, I have been thinking super hard about my next tattoo, which is not going to be any time soon because 1. breastfeeding and 2. paying job, but I am thinking Lil' Cthulhu http://m.youtube.com/index?desktop_uri=%2F&gl=GB#/watch?v=FOHJUrcVdJk maybe with some happy stars above him.  I do love him!
    Okay, Cara,http://prettylittlethingamajigs.blogspot.com/, I delivered.  A little late, sure, but I am a busy woman!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

This is not some sort of plea for compliments!

Seriously, it's not.  This is me as I appeared to the world this afternoon.  My hair under that hat is covered in conditioner that I, as of yet, still haven't rinsed out (don't ask).  A sweatshirt. Cut off shorts, leggings and my new fuzzy warm boots.  The weather here is still warm enough to go out like this (upper 50's, isn't this supposed to be England?!).  This is not me dressed to impress, obviously.  At least, I hope that's obvious.  This is me running out to spend my last Birthday voucher after Jack's gone for a sleepover.  This is comfy casual afternoon to myself wear.  I'm going somewhere with this, sort of.

      So, after my mini shopping spree, I stopped at Southend Fried Chicken because I am fucking addicted to these chicken places.  They are SO GOOD.  The guy who owns it remembers me well enough to feel okay about bringing up my jacked up teeth to me. *SIGH*  ANYWAY.  After leaving there I head home.  I'm happily walking along when I notice this guy smiling at me.  He's down the street headed in the opposite direction. I smile back, because that's the kind of person I am.  As he gets closer he says, while still smiling, "Damn girl, I like the way you dress!"  And I laughed, because when you're hair is crusted over with conditioner and you're dressed almost exactly like you would have been 20 years ago, what the hell else can you do?

    I am so not complaining.  I mean, why would I?  It wasn't offensive or cat calling or anything.  I'm not sure what the hell it was, but it made me laugh, so it counts as a good thing in my book.  I just, I don't know, you know?  I mean, hardly anyone reads this blog, but if anyone who does has any idea what the hell that guy saw, please tell me.  Cuz I'm lost.

Friday, October 7, 2011

The one in which I kiss some ass.

So, yeah, I had great intentions of picking a serious subject and blogging about it in a well thought out and organised manner, but let's face it, that is highly unlikely to ever happen.  So instead, I'm going to annoy you with the sort of crap I usually reserve for my other, secret, private blog.  The one that is set to be visible to exactly two people (I am one of them).  I am going to be all mushy and gushy and gross.

                                          About this guy.

I cannot say enough about this guy.  He is AWESOME! At least, in my mind.  First of all, he is so sexy.  I mean the kind of sexy where you climb into bed with a headache and super tired and just feeling generally crap and all you want to do is pass out and wake up 10 years younger,  but then your hand brushes up on his leg or something and you're all like, well, maybe just a quick one...

I can't possibly be the only one who does that kind of thing, right?

Whatever.  Point being, I find it hard to stop touching him once I start.  It's too nice.  It's not that I can't stop, it's just that I really really REALLY don't want to.

                   I forget if this was just prior to or just after our wedding,
                           but that suit was off in a flash.

So last night, we go out and, after a lot of walking around trying to decide on a place to eat that was actually open, (Curse you, Wimpy! *shakes fist*), we wind up at the most severely understaffed Pizza Hut ever.  We were both trying to decide between what turned out to be the same two pizzas.  So we just got one each.  Don't look at me like that, they're only 9"(bigger than an American personal pan pizza, but not, like huge or anything).  That's right, he'll buy me my own pizza and NEVER once has he told me that I am or am getting fat, and I've gained 25 lbs since we met.  How hot is that?

By the way, I spend the entire time at Pizza Hut staring at him in this really starry-eyed, infatuated sort of way which he notices every once in awhile.  I think it makes him uncomfortable, but I LIKE looking at him.  And yes, I am well aware of what a complete dork I am, thanks.

                He's squinting and practically blind in this shot, but I dig it.

THEN.  Then we went to the cinema, (we saw Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, and yes, I quite liked it.) and about halfway through he noticed my headache was getting worse and told me we could leave any time I needed to go.  We didn't, because I wanted to know who the fucking mole was, and I sure as hell wasn't going anywhere until I found out, but sweet, right?

I won't bother getting into how much funny he is, because, let's be honest, we wouldn't be here in the middle of this post if he didn't make me laugh.  Like, constantly.  That is a non-negotiable for me.

                               This is hella old, but I MELT, okay?

Also, awesome dad.  Is there anything hotter than a guy being terrific and sweet and loving with his offspring?  Well, probably yes, because "hot" is maybe not quite the right word for that, but it IS so very attractive.

I think one of the best things about him is how even things I hate doing become bearable and even fun when he is around.  That shit comes in handy, let me tell you.

Okay, enough.  His head is big enough already, and I'll worry about him getting in the door tonight if I take this shit any further.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Can't be arsed to be angry

So I guess this won't be a rage filled post.  No work (AGAIN) this week, but they couldn't very well complain when I let them know I'm off on holiday the week of the 17th and won't be available for work, could they?

In related news, I'm applying for another job, as I clearly cannot rely on the one I've got.  My biggest difficulty will be finding references in a country where I know next to NO ONE who doesn't have the same last name as me.  Ah, well.  I guess I'll worry a bit more about that after my holiday.

                     Lunch along the seafront, Saturday. 
                    Yes, our beaches have weeds.  Welcome to Southend!

With the lack of work I've had to do lately, (a total of 7 1/2 hours in 4 weeks, for anyone keeping score) you'd be absolutely SHOCKED at the amount of laundry I've managed to avoid.  There are piles of dirty clothes and bags of ironing to do.  But it's SUNNY outside, and forecast to be in the area of 80 degrees AGAIN today.  Did I mention it is October and I live in England?

Had a conversation with my sister in law, who is taking courses in counselling, and thinking it might be an idea for me.  It would be 3 years to get a degree and be able to work, but it would be a lot more interesting and fulfilling than the sort of unskilled labour jobs I manage to pull in now.  Plus, I've got a history with counselling.  I know what I liked and disliked (mostly disliked) about the counsellor I saw as a teenager.  And I had issues.  I mean, ISSUES.  Which would be a plus, I think.  I like the idea of it, anyway, and my husband is supportive, which helps a ton, right?

I've been doing too much reading.  In the sense that I have a ton on my mind, but it's all a bunch of murky, unformed thoughts right now.  I'd like to sort through the lot of it and have something to SAY before I bother blogging about it.  So today, i guess I'll just roast some garlic, do some ironing and try to get a few more loads of wash in.  Wish me luck!!

                                           Wash us, PLEASE!!?

Friday, September 30, 2011

Obligatory Title

So!  Red lipstick challenge.  I went for a walk yesterday to return a very cheap, very crappy mouse, wearing red lippy.  I came home and low and behold, this article was waiting on xojane.com for me to read.  How do they always manage to be some damned relevant to what is happening in my life?  Magic?  Psychosis?  WHO KNOWS.  ANYWHO, (I hate people who say that, don't you?) I figured I might as well give it a go.  And my in-laws just got back from holiday in Turkey, and we're all going into town today, so I will be rocking it in public.  I will update you all on how that goes!!

By the way, I bought this lipstick before reading this extremely helpful blog post, so possibly not my best colour.  I dunno, I'm still feeling it out.  It feels a bit BAM! for day time, but as a person who used to look like a tank girl wanting to be clown person, I think I can manage it for a week!  You can't tell in that photo, but my entire head is shaved except for that pink and purple fringe and some short, sticky up bits right behind it.  I think they were green, but I might not have done that until a few weeks later?  Yeah.  THROWBACK!

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

ZOMG you guys....

You guys?!  Seriously?  There are like, 3 of you subscribed to my blog.  But whatever.  ANYWAY.  Updates:

  I have so not been in the mood to think, let alone write.  The lovely ladies at Southend hospital tried valiantly to instill in me some sort of sense of (false) hope that I wasn't necessarily having a miscarriage, but I knew.  I mean, you KNOW some things, you know?  I could feel it.  It felt horrible, sure, but there's no point in running away from it.  This overwhelming sense that your body is sort of erupting like an upside down volcano or something.  It's, quite clearly, doing what needs doing, however much you wish it wasn't.  ANYWAY.

The sack came out Sunday morning.  This is, well, gross, so you might want to skip to the next paragraph.  I'm not just saying that, I MEAN it.  This is going to be gross and graphic and, I'd imagine, very possibly a trigger sort of situation for some.  I was on the toilet and I felt it, too large to be a clot. So, I got up and used an empty toilet roll to fish it out and look at it, because you HAVE to know.  It was a deflated looking sort of thing, pinkish gray and definitely fleshy-like.  As it was deflated it showed the sort of vague outline of the kind of shape you get when you look at one of those I'm Pregnant sort of websites and they send you an email every week of all the neat stuff that is happening inside you.  They usually say "tadpole" but I always think "Giger alien".  I should have been a day away from being 8 weeks at that point, but the tadpole-alien stage is about 4 weeks, so I'd guess it had stopped growing about then.  I stared at it for a moment or so, put it back in the toilet and flushed.  There wasn't really anything else to be done.

Moving on, it was...odd.  I mean, you don't really know what you feel in that moment, or what you should feel, or anything else.  I wasn't feeling bad physically at that point.  Still bleeding, but the cramps had stopped in the night at some point. I sat down.  I ate a Sunday roast.  I went home.  I continued to bleed, in a very normal, period-like way, for 4 more days.

It was a week and 2 days before the follow up scan.  That was yesterday.  The ladies at Southend Hospital were again, very sweet and concerned.  A bit overly concerned.  I started to feel a bit weird about my complete lack of rolling around on the floor moaning and tearing my hair out, to be perfectly honest.  I understand that they were trying to be sensitive to what is a very awkward situation, but almost every person I came in to contact with made me assure them that I was ok 5 or 6 times.  They just kept asking, like it was unbelievable that I might be able to take the news that I had miscarried quietly, and without a lot of drama.  I found myself explaining, repeatedly, that I had passed the sack over a week ago.  Like, you aren't actually telling me anything I haven't known for 9 days already.  It was odd.

What I really wanted to know, and what I was exceedingly happy to hear, was that my body had gotten rid of everything itself.  My lining was (is) normal.  I do not need a d&c.  That was, by this point, my biggest concern.

I  had a d&c at the age of 20, (I think?).  It was, like this, a failed pregnancy.  There was a sack that appeared to be empty.  The d&c was done in my regular gynaecologist's (I guess I have to use UK spelling for EVERYTHING if I'm going to keep my spell check happy) office, not a clinic or anything.  The nurse there knew me, and, apparently didn't like me very much.  She had a trainee with her, and when the doctor told her to give me an injection for pain, then left the room, she said, "This one doesn't like needles, so we won't be doing that." then left the room.  Just left me there.  With no painkillers, I had a d&c.  I remember shouting after her when it was all over.  I remember using See U Next Tuesday quite frequently.  They sent my mother in, and she started to tell me off.  I sent her back out and told her to send in my dearest, sweetest friend, Matt.  A few moments later he was yelling some choice words after that nurse.

ANYWAY, yeah, I really didn't want a d&c.  Even worse than the memories is the idea of not being able to try again for at least 6 weeks.  I mean, I just lost a pregnancy, withholding sex from me for 6 weeks is just mean, isn't it?  BUT, that didn't happen.  I am OKAY, and my life and my body are MINE again.  So, YAY.

Speaking of body reclamation, I bought a femmecup.  now, I'd heard of mooncups and the like before, but I didn't know much about them.  As a matter of fact, i figured they were gross, hippie things, and promptly forgot all about them.  But over the past few years, I've grown to LOATHE my tampons.  They are itchy.  They smell.  They make my cramps worse.  I feel vaguely flu-ish about 80% of the time after I insert one.  No matter what the marketing says, most of the time i am VERY aware of having one in.  Then, I read  this article (on my most favouritest website ever).

Erm, yeah.  So I went on a 4 day bender of googling, reading, and comparison shopping.  And, at the end of that, i purchased a femmecup.  Feminine Wear said it could take 3-4 days for my cup to arrive, but it was on my doorstep the next morning.  It's so much smaller than I expected!  It is soft and I'm quite happy with it.  I won't go into too much detail, but i am overjoyed with my purchase and feeling a little stupid for waiting so long.  I mean, everything else aside, this cup cost me under £15, and will last me 5-10 years.  How much is a box of tampons?  Yeah.

Okay, I'm done talking about my vagina and uterus for now.  I promise.  (I will NEVER be done talking about my vagina.  FACT.)

Monday, September 19, 2011


I don't know what kind of picture to run with this, so I'm just skipping that bit, and getting straight to the suck.  I spent Thursday night (and all day Friday) in the hospital.  There were cramps, there was blood, there was "tissue".  The doctor was suitably impressed with my medical history and said that it was "kind of amazing that I survived all that." heh.  He was, unfortunately, less helpful with what was actually coming out of me.  The nurse got it right up under my face saying, "This is just a small clot, but THIS...we'd really like to know what THIS is!"  For the record, it was pink and fleshy in appearance.  They decided to call it "tissue" with audible-as-a-pause quotation marks and everything.  SUCH FUN.

So, that was Thursday night.  I'm home now.  Still bleeding.  No longer crampy.  I don't feel even remotely pregnant at this point.  Physically, I feel fine.  Emotionally... meh.  I've done some crying.  I've done some sucking it up.  Now I don't know what I feel.  In positive news, my MIL seems to think I'm some kind of bad ass tough chick, now.  So, that's kind of sweet, right?