Excuse me. I am a sacred vessel, alright? All you've got in your stomach is Taco Bell.

So, I'm in Arkansas. I'm blogging on my mom's dinosaur of a computer waiting for my sisters to come up for Nat's birthday party. Then I can show off my extreme ability to suck worse than suck at Guitar Hero.

Dom and I got the super 3 pack that has Guitar Hero I, II, and Rocks the 80's for Christmas. Of course, that was when we had money before the property managers called to notify us of the major pipe leak in our front yard. Apparently, the new tenants moved into our house in SC just in time for the monsoon to take over our driveway. They're going to have to dig up the lawn--excuse me, canoe the swamp--to find some seal that blew up after turning on and off the water. Chances are, we won't be responsible for the bill because it's a city thing...but I'm also me and that wouldn't be nearly dramatic enough.

Every time I see the Goose Creek Property Management number come up on my phone my heart just sinks a little. That house is starting to remind me a lot of that Tom Hanks movie, The Money Pit. Nice fixer-upper? Ends up just crumbling into a big pile of wood and rusty nails. I'm not-so-secretly hoping that the renters fall asleep cooking a can of gasoline and we'll be done with it.

See, most landlords don't have to deal with a busted water main flooding the front yard before the earthquake hit. Yup, according to Yahoo news the epicenter was about 4 miles from Summerville. Which, would put it at about....oh...my FREAKING HOUSE! That was certainly more expletive but I deleted it because I'm at my parents' house. Probably shouldn't worry though since yesterday I said "fuck it" in front of my mom. She didn't even blink. I didn't think twice about it until later that night when it started playing over and over in my head as a WTF moment.

This is also the woman that came up with a code for us to tell each other to fuck off while I was in high school. There used to be a Taco Bell commercial that said "Now only 99 cents! That's almost a buck off!" Except, we wouldn't ever hear the whole commercial. So, flipping through the channels we'd just hear "fuck off." That's when we decided to just start saying "Yo quiero Taco Bell" when we were pissed at each other. Good times. My mom and I have had some blogworthy memories for sure.

Even if I'm the kinda gal who cusses out her mom and calls the sherrif's office for a pap smear, I did finally get my shopping done. Nice transition right? I'm a master. We wrapped them all, shipped them, or tucked them underneath the tree. And all without being mobbed at the mall! Although, at one point when we were out I had the who's gonna get the door faceoff. You know when your approaching the doorway at roughly the same speed as someone else and you don't want to run ahead and look like a douche? Or even worse slow down and make them get the door for you. It's probably the most awkard 3 seconds of any given 10. She got the door for me. I just stared at the floor and mumbled "thank you." But my property in another state is now eligible to become a protected marshland so the universe owes me a door opening now and then.

Racism was the new black.

Raise your hand if you were forced to have a conversation with a racist, old lady about "funny" names while getting the blood sucked out of your arm through a giant syringe. Just me, then?

I put Michael in daycare for a couple of hours today so that I could go get my bloodwork done and the flu shot I was supposed to get at my appointment last week. That meant a cranky Mommy left the house at 8 sans showering and coffee to drop off a screaming 1 year old to the poor daycare workers at the gym. Unfortunately, the extended care program doesn't start until 9 a.m. So I had to go to the nearest park and let him root around in the wet wood chips for half an hour.

Once I finally made it to the lab, there was a wonderfully talkative woman in her 70's to keep me company as the techs took, what felt like gallons, of my blood. She had a thing or two to say about "those funny names. Especially those black girls." Her technition happened to be black, but thought it was just fine to lump all of the people of the world with long or hard to pronounce names into the category of black, Mexican, or Chinese. Somebody even mentioned coming across this name "La-a," to be pronounced "Ladasha." The hypen is apparently no longer a silent article.

It made for an eventful morning. Now, I have around a bajillion kajillion things to do before we leave for the Xmas break tomorrow. That's just an estimate though--it could be more. First on the list is to fix up my playlist and burn some car music. But because I love you all, I decided to blog first. It's probably gonna be your last one for the next couple weeks. I might get a chance to update at the various stops along the tour of Arkansas and Mississippi, but we'll see.

I'm sure I'll have plenty of stories about my drunken karaoke endeavors at Christmas with my folks that I'll want to share as soon as possible. Speaking of which, Dom and I exchanged our gifts yesterday because we wanted a chance to have our own holiday before it got steamrolled by our collective family Christmases. Is that seriously the plural of Christmas? Anyway, Dom got me this:
and this to go with some of these and make me do this in front of my family.

I also got a tea set and a homemade coupon booklet good for services such as babysitting, laundry, cooking, and cleaning. It's a cute, romantic gift and I'm super stoked about using it! Now I can force him to do the dishes, take me shopping, or any of those other husbandly duties that were implied but not spoken in our wedding vows...without feeling guilty or overly naggy!

Heyhey! The Postal Dude! I'll get you!

Talk about weird coincidences! Okay, I will.

Yesterday my former neighbor (not the crazy one that wanted to borrow Dom's uniform and always made me get the heeby geebies) read a note I posted on Facebook that mentioned this blog. She checks it out just in time for her to have a cameo. All about the timing? Or is she just internet stalking me? Just kidding, B. Welcome to the bloggity fun.

Now here's where I bitch about the UPS truck. I've been waiting for Dom's last gift to ship out via UPS for about a week and a half now. I really want it to get here before we leave on Tuesday so that it's not sitting on our front porch for the FEMA trailer neighbor's dog to come and pee on.

The website said that it was scheduled to arrive on Dec. 11. No big deal, that's plenty of time. So I hear the big truck coming down the road and I get that excited feeling that comes with waiting for something to arrive via mail or big truck. I'm peeking out the window to see how close it is, I put the dogs outside, and I wait by the door to watch it pull up right to my house....and pull right back away. No package! I look on the website today and it says "rescheduled delivery for Dec. 12."

They freakin forgot my package on the damn truck. WTF? Let's hope that's it and they didn't just break it and then buy some time to ducktape it back together.

Alright, Michael just stopped in the hallway to poop his pants so I'd better take care of that.

By the way, today's quote title comes from a movie called "Postal." Apparently there's a whole filmed dedicated to a "Postal Dude" serial killer. Here are some of the quotes I found:

"No, that's not him. Do you see how his hair shimmies? This guy looks just like Jesus."

"Postal Dude. Is that the best we could call him? Postal Dude! He's wanted for kidnapping, a shootout at the social welfare office, the assassination of Candidate Wells..."

"Only my weapon understands me."

Twenty bucks says it aired on Scifi.

Correcto. Ice and snow, no Eskimo. Even hallucinations have laws.

Yesterday's appointment at the Doctor's office went better than expected. Dr. G is extremely nice and thorough. I figured she was probably good at spending time with patients when I had been in the waiting room for 45 minutes...

That was the worst of it though. She wasn't judgmental or harsh at all, she's already way better than any other doctor's I've had (aside from the OB's because they're required to be uber nice otherwise you might go into early labor). Made it out feeling fairly good about the whole deal.

She's getting me a referral for her gynecologist for my lady parts checkup. Let's hope I get the right number this time. I don't want to call any more police officers about my privates. She also gave me a prescription for acne. So other than my bacteria-face, I feel pretty healthy.

I went to CVS to get my pills filled afterward and froze my touchie off. It was in the 70s earlier this week! Today? Snow! Seriously, look out my window. Okay, now get out of my house. It is snowing, here in Slidouche! I'm the furthest south of everyone I know right now (except maybe Caitlyn) and all of the schools are closed today due to the mass hysteria of "le neige." That's French, because I'm in the New Orleans area. It's probably wrong though. I just googled it. Four years of Spanish isn't gonna help me communicate with the Cajuns.

Anyway, I left my keys in the car at the pharmacy. Almost locked them in, but since I was dumb enough to leave them in the ignition my smartypants car wouldn't shut me out. That's great, since I had only budgeted for one lockout this month. Dom already blew our wad of fat cash on that last week. I have no room to complain. I used to lock myself out of the house on a daily basis when we lived on base. Security had to come and let me back in a lot. I finally hid a key in the shed so my neighbor wouldn't think I was such a moron every time I had to come over and use her phone.

For her birthday this year I wrote this on her Facebook wall, "Happy Birthday! You know, every time I lock myself out of my house I think of you."

Aaaaaah! Doc, your fork has magical powers!

Wow, I think the Latin name for my household should be Vomitus Maximus after all that's been going on this year. Poor Dom got food poisoning from a frozen turkey pot pie yesterday. This is just ridiculous! We're healthyish people. Definitely more healthy than we've been in a while. Though I did eat his half of the pizza I made for dinner last night, in addition to mine. But that was just because he wasn't able to eat it and take it away from me!

Perhaps we should ingest some more vitamin C in our daily diet? Regardless, I have a checkup with my new doctor tomorrow afternoon. Whoo. That's a whoo like a deflated balloon, not a let's-go-party whoo. I haven't been to the doctor since my pregnancy and now I have no idea how to act. I mean, it's a checkup so do I list everything that might sorta be ailing me and make her think that I'm a hypochondriac whacko addicted to webmd? Okay, clue her into the fact that I'm a hypochondriac whacko, etc., etc.? Or on the opposite end, do I say that I'm completely fine and she say "Why'd you waste my time? I only see sick people."

My anxiety is really this, is she going to be like my doctors I've had up until Michael was born? Who were Bitch and Superbitch, by the way. Or is she going to be a nice, understanding physician like my O.B.s and the peeps in the hospital? I'm guessing that since she's a civilian doc, it'll be the latter.

In other health news, Liz replied to my plea for blog material with this:

"A 70 year old woman in India just gave birth to a baby. She had to use in vitro because all the efforts with her 72 year old husband went no where. Blog about THAT. *shudder*"

Okay, I will.

What in Brahma's name did you think you were doing, lady? Best case scenario you get to spend 30 years with your kid but only 10-20 of it will be coherent. You've just made him or her the weird kid in class that everyone will whisper rumors about his or her conception via a lab experiment gone wrong by the crazy, old, geezer scientist.

This is what I'm talking about people! Just be cause you're in your golden years doesn't mean you're owed shit. I'm sure her thinking was that she wanted to have children before she died. Why didn't you start, oh, 40 or 50 years ago? If you would have given birth to the little guy in your prime, he could be having contraversial invitro babies of his own by now!

That is all.

NORMAL? Some boring, old, normal, old, toilet goer, huh?

I'm suffering a blog famine of sorts. Material for this page usually presents itself, and often. I don't usually have normal, boring days like the average American. My days are frequently filled with odd encounters that I must immediately share with you. Like this one:

Wal-Mart is piping in pure Cassidy quality insanity fuel through their P.A. system. There is nothing I want to hear less while battling the mobs for the last gallon of milk than Christmas music. Unless it's Beyonce singing Christmas music in her gospel vibrato--which it was. I was so distracted by it that I physically bumped into an old lady last week. She's too old to be in the demographic that I'm currently holding a vendetta against though, so I felt bad. This granny was the so old I don't give a flying monkey fart what people think--therefore I will be surprisingly fun old. Which is why when I bumped into her and excused myself she said this, "Boy, I bet I could sing that better than she could."

Right on, old lady. Right on.

Other than that tidbit? I got nothin'. I've been having a fairly nondramatic week of nonbloggables. "Nonbloggables" are just moments in time that even I can't make seem interesting. Where's all my drama at? If you're a loyal reader and want this blog to continue, please donate a topic and/or story that I can reenact for the betterment of the internet.

Otherwise, you're just going to read my bitching about target.com because they failed to tell me that my niece's birthday present was backordered until yesterday. Her birthday was a month ago. I ordered it October 23. Then the D-bag decides to respond to my nasty email with "That tends to happen during the holidays." Really, the "holidays" include Halloween now? Is that when the hysteria and incompetence can officially start now? I'll mark it down.

Well, crap. That was it. That was all the bitching I had saved up for future blogs! Seriously, comment, email me, message me on myspace or facebook, anything!

This is my dad. And these are his new underpants.

Most everyone that knows me probably realizes that I like to reinvent myself occasionally and now you're all probably thinking "Great, here's another freakin' blog about Cassidy changing her look." Yeah, get over it. My blog. There's nothing like slipping on a new hair color trying out sluttier makeup to cover up your insecurities and bring yourself out of a slump. If all else fails, get a piercing. And even better than that, is blogging about it.

Over the last year or two though, I've developed some new styles that stuck. Not the usual abandonment crap after a few months of feeling like a fashion-assbackward retardista. For example, high heels are still here and I'm feeling a shoe fetish spreading over me like a bacteria. The good, help you fight off sickness and be balanced kind of bacteria though, because I like shoes...I don't want to disinfect them.

I've become increasingly interested in style and actually giving a flip about fashion. I blame the Bravo network. So with finger pointing done, what's your favorite blogger into now? Well, I've been told my entire life that there is a preventable disaster that plagues women of fashion--panty lines. That's right, I wrote that whole blog to say that I'm taking up thongs.

I've been wearing one since this morning and I've only felt the urge to pull out a massive wedgie a couple times. This isn't my first attempt at taking up underwear as a hobby. In high school my fellow colorguard members decided that our uniforms would look much better sans panty lines and we all vowed to buy thongs to fix it. Totally didn't wear mine. It was terrible.

So I'm not really sure why I'm risking the torture all over again, but kinda glad I did. They feel sexy. I might just end up humping my own leg if I keep wearing them. Overall, it's just a "the cool kids are doing it" syndrome. Same reason I'm sporting leggings under my mini skirt. I'm sure I'll be carrying around a miniature dog wrapped in a feathery boa any day now.