Me & My ipod

It's been rough trying to move a person into a house that is already at full capacity. I've been organizing, donating, destroying, boxing and labelling everything in my path. When I hit the dining room I noticed all my CDs were packed away in a corner and covered in dust being they hadn't been touched in 5 years. I saw these CDs as additional clutter that I needed to get rid of but who knows when you'll wanna hear a little Garth Brooks?

I purchased a slightly worn ipod a few months ago and decided to put this it to the test. After everything is said and done, the ipod contains ALL of my CDs (200+ no lie) as well as a ridiculous amount of additional music, legally downloaded from the World Wide Web of course (for a full list, please contact me and specify file format). I've got 2,981 songs on that puppy (10.52 GB) as I type and still 17.28 GB of free space.

The CDs have been boxed and labeled along with the master packing slip. I would have sex with my ipod if I could.

Danielle - Homemaker

The most stressful thing I've been dealing with since being voted off Survivor Island is planning the menu for the week. It really is a bitch trying to prepare a healthy meal encompassing all four food groups. When I ask My Man what he wants to eat, the only he gives me is, "Anything as long as it has meat."

Now those who know me know I am overall not a chicken person and absolutely will not eat that fowl off of the bone. I do not like the flaky texture. I loathe cooking it. It's one of those weird meats you can't over cook or under cook because if you do it'll be all kinds of gross and you can get sick and die. When I buy chicken breasts (fresh or frozen) half the meat is gone by the time I'm done trimming the fat because it all looks nasty to me. I have the same problem with frozen chicken tenders. I know they're supposed to be ready to go, but I have to cut out this big, white vein that runs through the center of them, leaving merely bite sized pieces. I understand you don't see or taste the vein when it cooks, but if I see it during preparation it's got to go. I did cook a chicken and rice meal last week, but the chicken was dry. It was edible and overall received good reviews, but I thought the chicken sucked, therefore the meal was fucked up.

Let's move onto pork now, shall we? The only other meal I've semi-fucked up since playing Betty Crocker is a pork tenderloin. It was pink in the center, thus not fully cooked. My side dishes were off the heezy though, but those side dishes were my demise. I had TWO casserole pans in the oven as well the pan cooking the pork, which was on the top rack. My deduction is that the casserole pans were blocking the heat to my roast. Next time the meat will be on the bottom rack.

We are beef people. We're all about the red meat. I went grocery shopping this morning and Sweetbay had coupons on their ground angus (I will not use chuck or beef, only angus or sirloin). After everything was said and done, I purchased 9.89 pounds of meat for about $1.79 per pound. A) I'm a friggin' bargain shopper; B) I've proved yet again that I go big or go home.

So what will we be eating this week? Tonight I plan on making lasagna (with beef of course). This'll be a first for me but it seems like fun. I've been giggling ever since I thought about it this weekend - I was contemplating making meatloaf. If that's not housewife dinner of all time, I don't know what is. Luckily, I decided to only experiment with lasagna this week. Wednesday is My Man's birthday so I'm going to forgo cooking, get all dressed up (poor thing mainly sees me looking unemployed), and take him out to dinner. Thursday we'll have Taco Bell tacos in the all-in-one kit I purchased from the market (3 lbs. meat down). At some point I'll be cooking a pork tenderloin as well. Watch out Martha, here I come.

And finally, I anticipate baking a triple layer cake for My Man's birthday (pics to follow). For those of you remember my cakes from back in the day, they've only gotten better. I'm a little miffed though - I forgot to by birthday candles at the store.

Medication Update VI

I'm entering my 3rd week of unemployment and besides the normal severe mood swings, all is well. I haven't taken any Xanax since Sunday - and no, it's not because of anonymous' comment about checking thee into rehab. If I were anonymous, I'd probably be heading to AA, as I'm assuming that still controls most of your time. I did it because I've been saying it for awhile, and as horrible as this sounds, what else is there for me to do? I've been experiencing a bit of nausea and appetite loss but that's it. It's nothing compared to Cymbalta, but I can see where it could be an issue at higher doses.

Kookaburra Sits on the Old Gum Tree

Today is no better. Just call me Danielle Downer.

I've been thinking about starting a new 'secret' blog. Doesn't seem like much of a secret if I'm telling you about it but only a select few will know where it really is. I've been doing a couple hand written blogs - kinda like a journal - and for some reason I want to post them for permanent back up. My mind's been playing tricks on me for years and some of the stuff that comes out of my pen is madness. Also, whilst I've been cleaning up the crib, I found notebooks dating back nearly 15 years with my musings and writing of depression and sadness. I'd like to permanently back these up too. I'm not sure why. Perhaps in reading these blog posts myself (from beginning to end) it amazes me as you can see where in the spectrum my life has been. Plus, I really have nothing too fun to blog about and I don't want to bore my readers (or anyone for that matter) with the internal thoughts buried deep within my head. I'll let you know when it comes out. I'm going to try to start working on that today.

But don't fret if you're not a VIP. I will still be doing my normal posting, feelings, drug addictions (which I think my be worse - I've come to find out I have a physical addiction) and whatever the fuck else pops in my mind.

BTW - Rumor has it I may have a new rEsearch paper in the next few days.. 'Bout damn time.

Mania

It's nearly 3am and I am dangerously manic tonight. I haven't put anything up my nose in years and I just snorted a half a bar of Xanax. I forgot just how much that royally fucks you up. Talk about the effects hitting you quicker. I only did that because I didn't go to sleep during the Nyquil allotted time so I think I'm fucked and up all night long now.

The gravity of the situations are sinking in - both the unemployment and the relationship. My complexion is going to hell and my menstrual cycle is fucked up from the stress.

I think I'll be sleeping in tomorrow in a Xanax induced form of being ate up. I hate not being able to function and think clearly, but I hate being able to function and think clearly. Life is fucking ridiculous. What's the point of it all? Anybody?

I Got Laid

Off... that is. Having been employed by a wonderful company for 4+ years, I am the latest to fall victim to the housing crisis. I think I've literally said this a thousand times, but I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! I didn't fuck up the economy causing thousands to lose their jobs and/or homes. But oh well, what can you do?

It all went down on Monday. I took the news pretty fucking well. I went into my office, packed up all the smack I've been acquiring over the past couple years and headed home. I cried a bit when I got to the house. This is quite a big shock after all. My Man consoled me when he got home and suggested I take a few weeks to a month off work. I'm liking this idea. Damn he's a good man.

Surprisingly enough, I did not spend Tuesday in bed. I cleaned, organized, and made space in the laundry room so My Man would have a place to put his tools (Call me if you have any car problems. I'm now the proud owner of an air compressor, battery recharger thing, a drill that I can hardly pick up and a ton of tools whose use I cannot imagine.). Having avoided my unemployment issue for over a day, I decided to sit down that afternoon and take a look at my finances. Fortunately, I planned for a rainy day quite sometime ago. Fuck a few weeks - I don't anticipate (or have to) go back to work until September.

I will never have an opportunity like this again. I finally have time to really get my house in working order. I'll have time to go and help Grandma. There's a ton of shit she wants done at her house and she can't do them alone. She's also getting old. I'll be able to spend quality time with her, extra time that I would have had no other way.

So believe it or not, all is well. My only concern is that I've been very upbeat the past few days. VERY upbeat. My only fear is that I crash.

I've been collecting blogging material and should be updating this here site more frequently (for realz dis time).

I love My Man. He and I have so much in common, especially the fact we hate being (semi) working class people who seemed to get fucked at every turn. Anyone who knows me has heard me rant and rave about property taxes, income taxes, sales taxes, gas taxes, cigarette taxes (Institute a stupidity tax and our nation would flourish.). He and I were thumbing through the junk mail and came across this piece of advertisement(?) for a job fair (ironic huh?) which appears to be sponsored by a Senator in our area. Homeboy's working for Job Creation, Economic Growth AND Lower Gas Prices. Usually I'd says hells to the ya but then there was the fine print.

Fuckers.

Gotta give props where props is due - Holla' at My Man for pointing this out.

Independence Day

It's been quite a weekend. I'll have to break this one up into 3 posts to give each story a bit of justice.



This year marked the first July 4th that I have actively done something in many, many years. It was also the first 'holiday' I've spent with My Man. He too appears to live by my mantra - go big or go home.

My Man has been talking all week about doing something for the 4th of July, whether we go watch fireworks or he sets them off, somehow, someway, we would be watching the night sky. I get a call from My Man Thursday afternoon stating that he has purchased approximately $80 in fireworks. Goodness gracious - Do you know what I can do with $80? That's a lot of groceries and/or gas. He was kind enough to run some errands for me on Friday (cause he's the shiz-nit) so I chilled and basically slept all day. Upon his arrival home, he returned with - what's this - MORE fireworks?! The ones he picked up were aptly called Barely Legal (I have a Hustler magazine by the same name). They were these big ass canister things that came 24 to a case. We had 2 cases, two firework box things and my dear picked me up some ginormous sparklers (you can't do the 4th without sparklers). Looks like we'll be pissing the neighbors off this year.

I woke My Man up around 8:30pm (we're some sleepy people), just as it was getting dark, so he could start doing whatever he needed to do to get set up. Around 9pm I heard booming outside. My Man had started. Armed with my cigarettes, a Coke and my camera, I headed on out and plopped myself in the bed of his massive pick up truck.

As mentioned in previous posts, I live in the barrio and am surrounded by Spanish people. The Mexicans across the street, 3 doors down, came outside to watch our display. No lie - they sat in the back of a low rider truck, a big ass 'fruit picking' pick up truck (you know what I mean, Mexicans always have big, macked out trucks) and blasted Spanish music. One of them yelled, "Cinco de Mayo!" Umm, it's our Independence day, buddy, not yours. It's Cuatro de Julio, essays (I know that's misspelled but I have no idea how to spell anything in Spanish Ebonics). The fireworks worked like this: My Man would line up about 4 of them, then he would cautiously go from tube to tube lighting each one, then BOOM! The fireworks go up in the air, make an absolutely gorgeous display, and then all you'd hear was the debris falling all around. It was the craziest thing - it sounded almost like a hard rain coming down from the heavens. All the time I kept feeling what I thought was falling debris burning me. As it turns out it was not debris, but mosquitoes. Lots of them. I started scratching myself all over - once you start you can't stop. It was like tripping on acid and thinking you had bugs crawling all over you. It was horrific.

NOTE TO SELF - Buy some OFF! or something. Those mosquitoes really like my sweetness.

During this time, My Man somehow befriended J.R. who lives across the street (I'm sure J.R. stands for something like Jose Ricardo or Jorge Reynaldo). J.R. came over to our yard and brought My Man a Corona cerveza. All I could think was this was a recipe for disaster - an alcohol induced man setting off fireworks. I startled J.R. a bit when he came by - he had no idea I was chillin' in the back of the truck like the Mexicanos across the street. Shocked, J.R saw me and said, "Hello Miss Lady." Hehehe. My Man continued to converse with J.R. for the rest of the evening. At some point, a man I will call Fat Richard, came outside and asked if he needed to move his car due to all the falling debris. My Man said it was alright, his massive new truck didn't have any debris and Fat Richard's car was about 50 feet away from My Man's new ride. Still pissy, Fat Richard went over to J.R. and started bitching about the fireworks in Espanol. After the mild confrontation, our new hermano, J.R. came over and talked to My Man about what a dick Fat Richard is. Apparently one day Fat Richard came over to J.R.'s house to raise hell about a broken fence in the backyard and the only person home was Senora J.R.. Fat Richard reamed and cursed her out. The poor lady was home alone and petrified. Due to this incident J.R. has been looking for any reason to fuck with Fat Richard. J.R. told My Man if Fat Richard gives him any problems, to come get him. By the end of the night, we were called family and I was told if I was ever home alone and got scared, intimidated or anything, to go across the street to mi extended famila and they will take care of me.

I've lived in my house for over 5 years now and have never met anyone who lives on my street with the exception of the poor white girl next door who is in the same situation I was in - alone and unable to upkeep and maintain a house by herself. In one night, we made both friends and enemies.

How Quickly Things Change, Part II

It's a new day and I feel a hell of a lot better. That's probably because I popped a few Xanax last night and slept through the shitty-ness. I was out by 8pm. My man went to Home Depot, came home and cleaned the bathroom toilets and vanities and I didn't even roll over. Xanax is the #1 sleeping aide out there.

My man has been talking about buying a new(er) car. He has a 2007 Toyota Matrix. It's a cute car with good gas millage, but he hates the car (I guess it's not masculine enough). He's gone out the past two weekends to car dealerships to see what's out there. I knew he wanted a truck and I would joke around and say stuff like Make sure it has an extended cab for the baby seat. He went 'window shopping' on Sunday AND CAME HOME WITH A $30,000 TRUCK. Mama mia. Granted, it does have a king size cab with a full back seat for the chitlins but sheesh. This morning we were chatting in the kitchen and he made a comment about how he really wanted an SUV. I told him he should have gotten one. He looked at me and said WE need a truck. Huh? WTF do I need a truck for? He was saying something about hauling stuff but what do I have to haul?

On a lighter note, my man's dad wants to give us their existing dinner room table. At least we have a truck to bring it over in. You know, I've been on my own for over a decade now and I've NEVER had a dining room table.

I've been trying to clean and organize the fuck out of my house. Parts of it haven't been cleaned since I moved in. I finally got the guest (Jeff's) bedroom cleaned out - closet and all. I found boxes that had never unpacked. Props to me - if it hadn't been unpacked, I figured I don't need it. He took three bags of clothes and two boxes of miscellaneous stuff to the Goodwill for me (Don't worry - I got a receipt - that shit's tax deductible). After getting rid of three garbage bags full of clothing, I still have no room in my walk in closet. It's ridiculous. I have a step ladder in my closet so I can get to everything.

Now that he has a room of his own, I have my 'casual closet' back. I loathe trying to go through drawers looking for something. The drawers always get screwed up, the get clothes unfolded. Therefore I hang all of my sweatpants, t-shirts, wife beaters, etc. in my casual closet. I have found this makes my life a lot easier as I usually have some idea as to what I'm looking for (the shirts in my walk in closet are organized by sleeveless, short sleeves, 3/4 sleeves and long sleeves, with each type of clothing further organized by color. OCD I know). You know you need a life when you're tickled pink about having more closet space.

That's about all I have today.

OMG I almost forgot! How fucking great is this? I think at some point I decided to boycott the show, but being that Donna, Kelly and Brenda will all be back at some point I have not choice but to watch. I wonder if Emily Valentine will be back?

How Quickly Things Change

I'm falling down again. I've been feeling off for a week or so. I hope I snap out of it soon. I don't like being like this.

I've made it official, per se. Jeff and I went out to dinner with my father and step-mother for their anniversary Saturday night. I figure I'll be with him for quite some time so it was time to meet my folks. I was a bit upset because my dad hardly acknowledged him. Jeff talked about his work a little bit, then he went outside to smoke. My pops then looked over at me and asked me how big his jobs are. Jeff was talking about trading in his car for a truck. Jeff steps away from the table and dad asks me what kind of car he drives. Huh? I don't understand why he couldn't ask Jeff this stuff himself. I know it has to be a bit awkward meeting the man I'm living with, the man who's sleeping with his daughter, but goodness gracious, at least try to be social. I dropped over $130 for dinner (my treat - it was their 22nd anniversary) and he can't even ask him what kind of car he drives. The irony in this - My dad was class president, vice president and treasurer when he was in high school. He's a social butterfly. When he goes into a room it seems like people flock to him because he's so damn funny and easy going. I don't know what the fuck was up Saturday night.