Whoo! Big props to Kelly for babysitting tonight because now I get to go to the casinos!! Granted, I'm going from like 2-7 or something like that...but at least I'm going. That's the important thing. That and fat stacks of cash.
Oh, me! I'm so funny! Why? Because I don't actually play the real casino games because I'm a scaredy cat retardicon. The closest I've come to one was standing over Dom's should while everyone at the table told him what he should be doing during blackjack. The best I can do is win a few extra bucks at a time on the Monopoly slot machines. Now, If I can keep track of my winnings better this time I might have a chance. Usually, I break even. And by usually, I mean the two times I've gambled.
Really though, I'm in it for the buffet. Where else can you get every type of ethnic food on one plate? Last time I checked there wasn't a Harry's Thai House of Pancakes, Italian Bakery, and Burrito Palace. I didn't actually check, but believe me, if there was one I'd know about it. I would buy it. I would be 400 lbs.
Yup, there goes all my weight loss. Good thing I'm going out with the girls again on Saturday. Perhaps I can drink myself into a thinning hangover?
Well, readers, you should all place bets on how much money I lose (I mean "give charitably to the good folks running the gambling industry"). The closest one might win a blog in their honor. Might...I'm pretty lazy and bad at keeping promises that I don't really want to keep.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Bears are Crazy. They'll bite your head if you're wearing a steak on it.
Dom and I went to Texas Roadhouse for dinner in honor of Cassidy Awareness Day. I think I celebrated myself into a bigger size of pants. Dude, I ate enough to last me to next year's CAD day. Oh, not a good abbreviation. Then again, I named my band on Guitar Hero "Cassholes." Cause I'm a classy lady.
Anyway, next time I have a choice between Texas Roadhouse and well, anywhere, remind me to pick anywhere--even the mall food court, even the mall parking lot. It's not that the food was bad. No, it was some tasty cow. Unfortunately, the "Don't mess with Texas Roadhouse" atmosphere is enough to give me an aneurysm in my brain. The only people that want to be surrounded by that much Texas, are from Texas.
My badonkadonk is not honky tonk.
They had the stereo up so loud that Dom couldn't hear me while sitting at the same table. They also restarted every song halfway through, then ran it to the end. I got to hear country songs, on average, 1 1/2 times.
There's also a giant mural of a bikini party boat on the bayou. Nothing says "Texas in Louisiana" like a swamp full of busty chicks and a snake hanging from a tree. I think I'm going to paint that in my living room. Won't that be a surprise for my landlord, eh? Instead of losing my security deposit, she'll probably pay me for increasing the value of her home with such a masterpiece. Um, a K.C. Masterpiece of crap of which I stole the idea from a steakhouse? Telling you, people, classy.
Anyway, next time I have a choice between Texas Roadhouse and well, anywhere, remind me to pick anywhere--even the mall food court, even the mall parking lot. It's not that the food was bad. No, it was some tasty cow. Unfortunately, the "Don't mess with Texas Roadhouse" atmosphere is enough to give me an aneurysm in my brain. The only people that want to be surrounded by that much Texas, are from Texas.
My badonkadonk is not honky tonk.
They had the stereo up so loud that Dom couldn't hear me while sitting at the same table. They also restarted every song halfway through, then ran it to the end. I got to hear country songs, on average, 1 1/2 times.
There's also a giant mural of a bikini party boat on the bayou. Nothing says "Texas in Louisiana" like a swamp full of busty chicks and a snake hanging from a tree. I think I'm going to paint that in my living room. Won't that be a surprise for my landlord, eh? Instead of losing my security deposit, she'll probably pay me for increasing the value of her home with such a masterpiece. Um, a K.C. Masterpiece of crap of which I stole the idea from a steakhouse? Telling you, people, classy.
It's sad. The only way some people can find a purpose in life is by becoming obsessed with demons.
Today is an important day in the history of me, which should make it eligible for a national holiday because my personal bygones are certainly worth celebrating. This day, November 12, marks a two year anniversary of my victory over depression.
Now, I'm not going to get all weepy and sentimental about how much more I appreciate life and express the same hormones that the Lifetime channel runs off of. I'm not even going to tell you stories about my dark days filled with turmoil and angst. I'm just going to subtly declare the mastery of my own emotions with a smile and a carefree blog.
I woke up with a good feeling today, not even remembering the date. I just felt vigorous and wanted to flaunt my vibrant sense of security. I just felt like everything was finally falling back into place, regardless of how stressed I've been lately. There are things to look forward to and, though I didn't realize it first thing today, things to look back on and be proud of.
So I got home from the gym this morning and looked in my keepsake box. Sure enough, the hospital bracelet confirmed that two years ago today, was the day I lived. It wasn't an incredible occasion to celebrate otherwise, but it does mark the beginning of a new age for me. It was then that I realized that I could and can get past any hardship, and do it gracefully.
After 22 years of constant ups and downs, an entire lifetime of making my body go despite my brain telling it that it's useless and so tired that I could do nothing greater than sleep for hours --but the insomnia kept me from even closing my eyes for days--I have not suffered from the symptoms and torture of being depressed.
It was like being stuck in a shell of myself, unable to break through the insecurities until I realized that I deserve happiness. And it wasn't going to handed to me, or left in a package on my doorstep. I had to work harder for it than anything else I've ever done. It is an infinite puzzle that takes working out any time I doubt my potential or get a dopamine overload.
So here's to a job well done and many more years of success! I officially declare November 12 National Cassidy Awareness Day. Ask your boss for that day off next year if your job doesn't already celebrate it. We'll go party.
Now, I'm not going to get all weepy and sentimental about how much more I appreciate life and express the same hormones that the Lifetime channel runs off of. I'm not even going to tell you stories about my dark days filled with turmoil and angst. I'm just going to subtly declare the mastery of my own emotions with a smile and a carefree blog.
I woke up with a good feeling today, not even remembering the date. I just felt vigorous and wanted to flaunt my vibrant sense of security. I just felt like everything was finally falling back into place, regardless of how stressed I've been lately. There are things to look forward to and, though I didn't realize it first thing today, things to look back on and be proud of.
So I got home from the gym this morning and looked in my keepsake box. Sure enough, the hospital bracelet confirmed that two years ago today, was the day I lived. It wasn't an incredible occasion to celebrate otherwise, but it does mark the beginning of a new age for me. It was then that I realized that I could and can get past any hardship, and do it gracefully.
After 22 years of constant ups and downs, an entire lifetime of making my body go despite my brain telling it that it's useless and so tired that I could do nothing greater than sleep for hours --but the insomnia kept me from even closing my eyes for days--I have not suffered from the symptoms and torture of being depressed.
It was like being stuck in a shell of myself, unable to break through the insecurities until I realized that I deserve happiness. And it wasn't going to handed to me, or left in a package on my doorstep. I had to work harder for it than anything else I've ever done. It is an infinite puzzle that takes working out any time I doubt my potential or get a dopamine overload.
So here's to a job well done and many more years of success! I officially declare November 12 National Cassidy Awareness Day. Ask your boss for that day off next year if your job doesn't already celebrate it. We'll go party.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Maybe some monkey's running around Trinity doing his thing with bored housewives.
My days have been slowly getting better lately. No one is sick, I don't have a rush of things to do in a short amount of time, and whatnot. Unfortunately, that's when I get my best blogging in. It's a great form of procrastination!
I can temporarily escape my duties as a wife and mother long enough to bitch out a couple of paragraphs before returning to whatever it is that, apparently, the universe has agreed that only I can do. Also, this stress-free environment has left me with another predicament. Possibly, it's one that you folks can help me with.
I'm bored as fuck.
I've made Thanksgiving decorations, organized toys into bins, and even dyed my hair back to a more solid blonde instead of the streaky crap left over from my last attempt at highlights. I've even cleaned myself bored! There's only so much dusting I can do before I'm gonna start breaking into the neighbors' houses and cleaning up their messes for fun. Oh don't worry, I'll leave a note asking for payment. Cleaning is hard work!
Now I charge you with task! You get to feel important, isn't that great? Okay, I need suggestions of things to fill my spare time. It can be book recommendations, places to visit, things to make, whatever. However, they can only come to pass if my son deems it so. Lately he's been very clingy, so maybe you should suggest things to distract him as well. That's the whole reason I haven't finished knitting the hat I'm making for the Arkansas trip. It might actually be fall weather at my parents'--I must prepare for the possibility of frostbitten ears and the fashionable return of lumpy, handmade, hats.
I can temporarily escape my duties as a wife and mother long enough to bitch out a couple of paragraphs before returning to whatever it is that, apparently, the universe has agreed that only I can do. Also, this stress-free environment has left me with another predicament. Possibly, it's one that you folks can help me with.
I'm bored as fuck.
I've made Thanksgiving decorations, organized toys into bins, and even dyed my hair back to a more solid blonde instead of the streaky crap left over from my last attempt at highlights. I've even cleaned myself bored! There's only so much dusting I can do before I'm gonna start breaking into the neighbors' houses and cleaning up their messes for fun. Oh don't worry, I'll leave a note asking for payment. Cleaning is hard work!
Now I charge you with task! You get to feel important, isn't that great? Okay, I need suggestions of things to fill my spare time. It can be book recommendations, places to visit, things to make, whatever. However, they can only come to pass if my son deems it so. Lately he's been very clingy, so maybe you should suggest things to distract him as well. That's the whole reason I haven't finished knitting the hat I'm making for the Arkansas trip. It might actually be fall weather at my parents'--I must prepare for the possibility of frostbitten ears and the fashionable return of lumpy, handmade, hats.
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