Love and Marriage

Scott and I just celebrated our 9 year anniversary.

NINE YEARS.

THAT is a lifetime. When you're speaking marriage, anyway.

I was thinking some of you may appreciate some tips in how to make your marriage work...like mine.

1.  Be realistic. Scott and I always set goals like, "After we've been married for # years, we'll call it quits."  There's no need to drag it out. And sometimes it helps to know that there's an end in sight.

2. We've agreed that if one of us starts to act or look like (insert family member here), we agree that the one has the right to leave the other.

3. I am always right, he is always wrong. He thinks I have a problem with admitting when I'm wrong or apologizing. I have to remind him that I will apologize when I'm wrong, but it's very seldom. That's probably why he can't remember when I have admitted wrongdoings.



And I think that's it. It's nothing complicated...not a lot to remember.

Just keep it simple.

Smartphone Madness

I went to Verizon for the third time this month. It's only the 17th of August. 

I ordered my Android Incredible sometime in June and got it the end of July. I've questioned it ever since I've had it.  This phone has more options on it than anyone should ever need...or even know about. It's way too advanced for me and is very distracting.

So I walked into the store, and Clarence, a young good looking black guy who I may crush just a little, saw me looking at the BlackBerry Bold, again, and asked if I'm liking my phone any better. I said no. But I don't hate it. He was helping another couple who purchased a different Droid phone. I leaned against the counter, waiting for him to finish with them so I could get some full on new phone therapy. I really needed to exchange my cover for a different one, and that was my excuse for going in again. But really, I needed reassurance that I should keep my phone and not trade it in for my BlackBerry. The other couple enjoyed Clarence, too, and soon, another man joined our party. Really, we were all just waiting for Clarence.

I asked Clarence again if he likes the BlackBerry Bold or Tour better. His answer was he likes the phone I have the best.

"Okay, but if you were going to get the BlackBerry, would you get the Bold or the Tour?"

The lady of the couple getting new phones said she hated her BlackBerry.

She's crazy. I love BlackBerry. And every time I watch "Keeping Up With The Kardashians", I see them all with their BlackBerry's and it makes me jealous. I kept that part to myself. I didn't need them thinking I was crazy. So they asked me why I want the BlackBerry and I told them because I like to push buttons, and I motioned with my thumbs.

They all laughed. I didn't get why that was funny as I wasn't kidding. And it's completely legitimate.

Finally, I told Clarence I am returning my old black cover, and exchanging it for a reddish one. I took the old one off and put the new one on.

"I like it better already." I told him. He looked at me and shook his head. Now, I realize that this statement isn't exactly logical, but it's true. I really like my phone better. But I still think I should have gotten the BlackBerry.

Scrapbooking sucks.

"Where did we take the kids on vacation when they were little?" I texted my friend Becky last night.

"Cozumel"

"Thanks, I'm scrapbooking and couldn't remember."

"OMG no way! The kids were 1 at that time...you're really on top of things!"

Actually, her son was 1, Emma was 9 months, if we're getting technical.

When Emma was a baby, scrapbooking was all the rage and everyone I knew was doing it. I jumped on the bandwagon, and started, but that was about as far as I got.

Yesterday, I decided to go to Hobby Lobby and buy more scrapbooking crap. Now that there's two children, I need to be more on top of this. Plus, all of the supplies are taking up way too much room in my closet. Truthfully, the last thing I need is more stuff. But that seems to be the only part of this scrapbooking gig that I can get into.

I have about 3 scrapbooking books, lots of cute paper, and lots of scissors...all currently sprawled across my kitchen table right now. I got it all out....again. Per the above conversation, I only have 5+ more years of Emma to go and don't even get me started on Olivia's. At one point...really at several points, I decided I am just sticking all these pictures in photo albums and I bought a closet full of albums. I mean, seriously, scrapbooking is ridiculous. You have this huge book and you can only stick a few pictures on a page; not to mention, it's extremely time consuming.

It made me think of the most recent season of The Bachelorette and that queer who made a scrapbook for Ali. There is no way he did that himself. He must have a sister who is a Creative Memories consultant. If he did do it himself, he's obviously gay and shouldn't have been on that show.

If I can just get through this first year for both of these children, I think the rest of the pictures will be going into albums. If I could pay someone to do the scrapbooks for me, I would do it in a heartbeat. Not that I can afford to do that....but when has that ever stopped me before.

Not the Brady Bunch

Last night the Teen Choice Awards were on. We weren't home so I didn't get to watch them.

Just kidding! Thank GOD for DVR! Someone was thinking ahead when they saw the Bachelor Pad was going to be on at the same time as Teen Choice Awards and marked them both for recording. Yay...me!

So last night as I lay in bed watching Katy Perry and the babes from Glee, Scott came in and saw that I was watching an awards show. He sat down to watch and then said to me, "Oh my gosh, are you watching Teen Choice Awards?"

"Yeah, so?"

"You're 34 years old. Or are you?" (Just last week I told Scott I would have a 35th bday party for him for his birthday in May. He's already 35. I thought I was still 33 and him, 34. Hence, his joke. Whoops.) (And I wasn't really going to have a bday part for him anyway.) Then he says, "Hey, there's that gay kid from Glee. I have no idea who that girl is with him though."

"That's Katy Perry." Seriously. How does he not know who Katy Perry is.

"That's her? That song about LA girls is so stupid."

"It's California Girls and I love it."

"You know what song that's on the radio a lot right now is that Eminem song with Brianna."

"Rihanna"

"Eminem and Brianna." Now he's pronouncing the "a" differently.

"It's Rihanna"

"Brianna"

"Scott, there's no "B"...it's RI-hanna. Maybe you should be watching this with me."

"Rihanna? Really? Who cares. She's a nobody. She hardly even has any hit songs. She's always just WITH someone. With Jay-Z, with Eminem..."

"Ugh. Have you heard the song Umbrella, Scott?" It's the only one I could think of at the time, under pressure.

"Who cares. I'm going to sleep."

THIS is what I'm dealing with.

I am addicted to TV. It's no doubt and I am really starting to acknowledge that it's a problem. I am not happy unless I have a TV show to look forward to that night. I'm not proud of myself. I have two children, for crying out loud, and sometimes I put them to bed earlier than normal just so I have no distractions.

But now Scott and his judgment are becoming a distraction. The other night I was having a Glee marathon and he started watching with me. At one point, he started to disapprove, but by the 3rd episode, he was hooked and made me promise to not tell anyone. By the 4th or 5th episode, he said he wasn't going to watch anymore and that the show was so stupid. Which it's clearly not.

I think that he likes that I watch these stupid shows so that he gets to watch them, too, and take no responsibility for it.

Always one step ahead.

Emergency? Hardly.

Last week I went to the Emergency Room for a pain in my left side that was debilitating, not to mention causing me great difficulty breathing for two days. I didn't want to go. I really just wanted to lay in my bed and watch Hell's Kitchen, but before long, my family was over and harassing me to go see a dr. I couldn't keep up with Hell's Kitchen with my family hovering and talking, and I thought the ER might be a little quieter anyway. Most ER's have a television, so hopefully I would be able to catch the rest of my show there.

Scott and I checked in at 8:20pm. We sat as far away from everyone as we could. It seems that people lose all sense of modesty in an emergency room. It's disgusting. One man walked in wearing only his underwear, shorts in hand, and hunched over like he dislocated his shoulder. He looked like he could have been a decent, respectable man so I couldn't figure out why he didn't think he should put his shorts on before going out in public. I looked at him disapprovingly.

Then, entered a black family. Black people are like Italians. If one goes down, the whole family shows up. There were about 8 family members for a man who was already back in a room. Maybe he came via ambulance. After they all took turns, 2 at a time, visiting him, they all waited in the waiting room. Well, what is the sense of this? Shouldn't someone be keeping him company? And, I was right. The volunteer came out and said the patient would like someone to talk to. Yeah, I would think so. There's 8 of you, after all.

Next, a teenage kid comes in, wheeling himself in a wheelchair with his friends around him. He doesn't look like he's that hurt and I immediately label him as a pretentious punk jerk kid. He draws as much attention to himself as he can and lets everyone know that yes, he does need to see a dr, but he doesn't want to pay a $300 copay. Then, go home you stupid little asshole. And he better not get priority over me.

After waiting an hour, Scott says, "Next time we have to come to the ER, I'm carrying you in."

Finally, I was called back.

To wait some more.

I couldn't take it anymore. I put my clothes back on and we told the desk we were leaving and I would just follow up with a dr tomorrow (nevermind that I don't have a dr). The staff looked at me and said they thought the dr had been in to see me. That's so reassuring. I said no, filled out the paperwork they needed and was on my way by 10:30.

I hate the medical field. I hate seeing doctors and I think it's a total waste of time. We stopped at Walgreens on the way home so I could get some Ibuprofen and the next day I went to a doctor. She did an EKG and ordered x-rays, which absolutely made me 100 times worse. She prescribed me two steroids, which helped immediately, and I quit taking on the 3rd day. It was like, "Take 1 after breakfast, take 2 before lunch, take 1 before dinner and take 2 at bedtime. And that was just in one day. And one steroid. After waiting two more days for x-ray results, my diagnosis was musculoskeletal, which apparently means inflammation, which, to me, means they had no idea.

It's shocking to me how much is paid to insurance companies to pay for doctors to pay for malpractice insurance. All I wanted was a diagnosis and not to wait 2 hours in the ER waiting room for nothing and 2 days for x-ray results, which were to be given to me by the same lady who answered the phone at the dr's office.

And I don't even think it's just because I live in Alabama.

Alabama, for once...I'm not blaming you. Congratulations to the whole world. Our health system is crap.