Mobile Smut

Stupid, silly girl that I am, I totally didn’t know this was possible. I’m serious when I say that, so if it is a no-brainer for you, please do not point out my ignorance. I like to think I’m brilliant, even if it just isn’t so. Evidence the contrary wears me out a little bit.

So last night, I was making the hubster rub my back while I cranked out even more papers for school. Corporate Social Responsibility, anyone? No? Well then how about the world of costing in management accounting?  I know, I know: It is but the stuff of which dreams are made. More like the making of a nightmare and my MBA in one swoop.

But anyhow, back to the issue at hand. My still-newborn Android phone with which I am enamoured dings to let me know I have a text or something. John immediately perks up: “Who is texting you at this hour?” It was 2 am.

“Oh, nobody. It just says I have new tweets.” And so I jabbed my finger at the touch screen, bringing my Twitter account to life and see that I have a new “mention” in Twitterese. And so I jab my finger at that link, and see that I was sent a link.

Cool.

And so I bring it up and….Oh. Oh my God.

I got sent fricken PORN. On my phone. At 2:00 in the farking morning.

“Holy shit, I just got sent PORN on my fricken PHONE!” To this, John really perks up. “You can do that?” Honestly, he sounds kind of excited by the idea, and now I am regretting that I bought the same damned phone I have because I am picturing him in traffic and looking at porn, in line at the grocery store and looking at porn, in the waiting room at the pediatrician’s office and looking at friggin’ porn….You get my drift, here. He’s a guy, and as progressive as I claim to be, there are just some stereotypes I cannot get out of my brain.

So now I’m a bit traumatized and have a sort of PTSD of the cellphone. I’m afraid to click on any links. What would’ve happened if I had been at work? Or sitting here with my kid?  In other words, what if I would’ve been somewhere other than my living room at 2 AM? What if my eyes get assaulted by girl-on-girl action everytime I try to see if the boys’ grandma got the pics I sent?

Has anyone else had this problem?

 

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Welcome, Summer. We’ve Been Waiting…

Summer is officially here. It was 88 degrees here yesterday, prompting us to go to Toys’R’Us and get something for the boys to play in water until I can have enough time off to secure our new YMCA memberships. And they spent late yesterday afternoon splishing and splashing. Above is Zachy, clad in his adorable Gap swimming trunks. He was playing and seeeing the sights as we set up the pool for the boys and as soon as I turned the camera to him, he gave me the biggest smile, creating what is sure to be one of the cutest photos of Summer, 2011.

I’m Trying

What does a heart look like when it splinters into a million little pieces? What sound does it make when it hits the floor?My baby is having problems. Problems that I cannot fix. It’s been going on for a good deal of time now. I’ve been trying like hell to get him help to no avail. Incidentally, did you know that if you live in the Cincinnati area, you cannot get mental health services for your child if you earn above a certain figure or have private insurance? Case in point: We have tried over the past year to get Evan in with the behavioral health department at Cincinnati Children’s. Four separate referrals from our doctor, to be exact. And you simply cannot get in with them. I’ve tried and tried, starting all the way back when I was on bedrest with Zachary. Frustrated, I started to call other places that offered children’s psychiatry and psychology. There are two of them. One literally told me that, yes, they could se Evan and likely help him. And we were starting the intake process over the phone when they got to my income level. Apparently they work on a sliding-scale fee. Great, I’ll just pay the top amount, then. No dice. Because we have insurance. Seriously. Since when is income and insurance a hindrance to getting medical care of any type? You have got to be fucking kidding me. The other one I made an appointment for and we are going to see them Tuesday.

Have you ever heard your child wail and moan in mental anguish? I’m not talking about screaming or crying. I mean wailing. The only time I have ever heard something comparable was when we told a mother we were unable to resuscitate her child in the ER one night. That low, painful, guttural wail that escaped involuntarily from her toes up through her entire body. That is the sound my child makes countless times a day. He hurts. I want to fix it. I’m trying, baby. Mommy’s trying to fix it all. I’m here. Just hang on. We will make it through this together. And we will be better. And stronger. And wiser. But for now, just hang on.

Breaking Up Ain’t So Hard to Do

"No, Zachy, don't eat the rocks!"

Okay, so we have had about 5 minutes of sunshine this week and I have about the same amount of free time this week, so if there was ever a time when bitchypants was feeling bitchy, this is it. We did manage to take the boys to the park on the one day it wasn’t raining and Twister Sally wasn’t trying to come and take us away. Above is the evidence. This was the first time we really were able to let the baby down to play and explore a little. He only cared about trying to eat the pebbles from the path on the playground. But that isn’t what I had to say.

What I had to say is this:

Eff You, Blogger.

Yep, that’s right. For some reason, Blogger decided to act like a jealous ex-boyfriend this week. Maybe he found out about this blog? Who knows, but basically the only thing I could do with my nice blog was read the damned thing. And just like the disgruntled ex-girlfriend, I dumped off a couple of S.O.S messages to a couple of follwers to let them know I was moving, and I packed my shit and got out. Read: Import blog. And so now Being Veruca and bitchypants  have merged into a bastard child of my dysfunction and here we are.

And now I’m feeling a little guilty. Blogger saw me through my horrendous pregnancy. We had our good times. We really did. I’ve made some friends through my blogs there, even though my writing is sucky at best. But it was just time to move on. We were just no good for each other any longer.

I hope to see some familiar faces here, especially considering the word about this blog hasn’t gotten out yet.

>From the "Oh My God" Files

>I didn’t get this. I ruined my proposal because A) I knew what ring I was getting and I wanted it, and B) the jeweler made the mistake of letting me know it had come in. Poor John wanted to surprise me, and I really tried to be patient, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted my princess-cut solitaire. (Incidentally, princess-cut because John used to call me his princess.) I’m not one for flash and show. I’m more understated than that. And when the wait became too much for me, I finally asked for my ring. John’s reaction? To take the little black velvet ring box out of his pocket, toss it in my lap, and say, “Here, then! Marry me. Put this on your finger.” As he was getting out of his Explorer to go into a convenience store. For real. That’s my proposal. But John’s a romantic, so I would’ve gotten much better, had it not been for me being, well….me.

But this guy? This guy went to some effort. Impressive.

>My World Right Now

>I’m just busy. Busy Busy Busy. Again. Still. Always.
So here are some bullet points for you. A brief synopsis of my life, and this style seems appropriate right now, considering how I am spending most of my time.

  • Work fricken sucks. For some reason it has gotten busy, and I’m not sure what is going on because it isn’t flu season. No new obscure respiratory epidemic has surfaced. People are just…sick. And I make a living taking care of them, and so I am busy.
  • School fricken sucks. This program I am in is accelerated, so the classes are only five weeks long. The last session I took was one class, and it was still busy because it was so condensed. This time I am in 2 classes: Legal/ Ethical Environment of Business, and Management Accounting. And if one was busy, two is insanity. I have 3 2,000-word papers due for each class this coming week. That’s 12K words, y’all. With 60 hours of work. And 2 kids. I want to take up drinking. But if I do that, there is no way I will comprehend the hundreds of pages of reading they have given me to do. The mind-numbing reading.
  • I got an A in my marketing class. Let me rephrase that: I rocked that shit out.
  • Jesus didn’t show up on a cloud or with a clap of thunder and take anybody away. I never thought he was going to and realized that Camping douchebag was a nutcase, but the agnostic/ borderline-atheist in me was secretly thinking, on a very small scale, that it would suck if I was wrong.
  • I paid off the last of my pregnancy bills this past week. Zach has been paid for. It only took a year of crazy work schedules and living as if we were below poverty guidelines. Now I can try to regenerate my savings and since I know I am not going to med school anymore, we can work on buying a house after I have a little bit of cushion. Or maybe I should wait until the MBA is done. Hell, who knows?
  • Evan is having some major psychological problems. I can only hope it is not what I think it is. I can say that I have been doing some research and when I read this one article, my heart sank because it was like I was reading about him.
  • John enrolled in classes. Just a little vocational program for HVAC, but their median starting salary is comparable to my starting base salarywas as an RT when I first graduated. It would be nice to have the extra. I would say that I would slack off at work, but that isn’t true. The extra would just facilitate us reaching our goals a little quicker. (See above.)

I think that’s all. Sorry. I need to spend time writing academic papers now. And ptting my brain to sleep with Business Law. Peace out, homies.