Day 51- Tootsie Rolls

The wiener dog got lost in the backyard two days ago and about froze to death- ever since, he’s been taking a dump on the deck.  I get mad and yell at him to get out in the yard and what does he do?  He runs where I can’t see him.  I’m thinking he went to the yard..nope… he’s crapping nearer to the steps and out of sight.  Today I went out and shoveled all the frozen tootsie rolls off the deck and tossed them into the yard.  I swear not 3 hours later my husband starts laughing hysterically.  I ask what’s so funny and he says, “Cooper is pooping on the deck again.”

Damn dog.


Day 46 – Milk Sandwiches

This morning was crazy cold.  We all piled in the car only to go NOWHERE but down the frozen driveway.  My husband tried to give it a running start but the tires only peeled the ice and smoke came pouring out of the vents…  gross.
My husband and I got out and put down some ice melt and cat litter and tried again.  Good news is we made it up the hill and to church, bad news, we all smelled like burnt rubber and no one sat by us.

Why do people run out to the grocery and buy up all the bread and milk everytime the weatherman says it’s gonna snow?  Are milk sandwiches popular during winter storms?
And why on earth do people listen to the weatherman anyway?  He is NEVER right? They say 100% chance of rain aaaaand it doesn’t rain.  Now if it’s only 30% chance, down will pour a monsoon.
Same with snow.  The weatherman gets everyone’s panties in a wad over an “expected” 7-10″ and it doesn’t snow enough to cover the grass but let them say we’re expecting a “dusting,” and you won’t find your flippin car when you walk outside to goto work the next day. True story.

….. I went to the grocery today, not because it is supposed to snow but because if I didn’t the kids were going to starve to death tomorrow.  None of them are home during the week because they are busy with school. I Knew they’d be home tomorrow regardless of the possible snow because of President’s Day. I don’t think I had that day off when I was a kid. Hmmm….
Anyway, I braved the frigid cold air and went to the grocery to buy food for the kiddos and for the next two weeks – –  o.m.g. apparently I’m insane. 
Everyone and their momma was at Kroger and Costco AND Walmart buying milk and bread. That’s crazy to me. Don’t they need anything peanut butter or ham??
While I stood in line to leave I totally judged the woman in front of me. I don’t know what the hell she was wearing, some sort of leggings but they looked like denim and had patches on the knees like some sort of strange riding breeches and her butt had a weird crease…like not her crack crease, she had a crack crease and panty line creases- this was a sideways crease.  I kept staring at it trying to figure it out.  Eventually I pointed it out to my husband thinking maybe he could figure it out.  Nope. 
Miss. Weird Butt Crease had the personality of a stick too.  I’m pretty sure that’s why she bought the prune juice – to work it out later.
After waiting in line to check-out for 30 minutes it was fianally my turn and the cashier was on it!! She was beeping her ass off but her bagger girl was super slow. This was the hold up the whole time.  It doesn’t matter how fast one scans if you have cold molasses bagging.  Good grief.

Ok!  So I’m home and everything is put away.  The driveway has been sprayed with a liquid de-icer and we have a pile of wood (and fire starters) just in case the weatherman is right and we get a crap-ton of snow.  We are prepared to be warm even if the electric goes out; might have to eat frozen pizza on a stick in the fireplace but we will be warm and we won’t have to eat milk sandwiches.


Day 33- Playa del Carmen, Mexico

OK so I’m on this Caribbean cruise and making my first stop after two days at sea.  Playa del Carmen, Mexico.

As I said in the previous post, I had never been on a ship before so it never occurred to me that the ship would be too big to dock close to where I was suppose to get off.  When the doors opened I, along with several thousand others, stepped into small passenger shuttle boats that took us from the ship onto land.  Ok-  whatever works.

Once on Mexican sand I felt like I really accomplished something big.  I had not only taken my first flights, taxi ride and ship stay, now I was out of the US for the very first time. That’s a huge big deal.  (you never forget your first lol)  Upon first glance I wasn’t too impressed with Mexico.  It looked nothing like what I expected… but then again, I probably didn’t really know what to expect.  I assumed Mexico would be dirty and look impoverished – you know, like Texas does. (I can say that because I lived there) Playa del Carmen was very Americanized.

I had little interest in shopping in Mexico and didn’t want to waste my time in port on the strip. I did buy a gold charm etched with “Playa del Carmen” in a semi-circle above a palm tree. Not wanting to lose the charm I slid it onto my necklace with the intention to add it to my bracelet once back home. Seemed like a good idea– (keep reading)     After spending a few bucks, I decided to flag down a taxi. I admit that I was slightly taken aback when this tiny, rusted blue, and beat all to hell Chevette came to a quick halt in front of me.  “Was this a taxi?”  I was a little confused and I didn’t just want to get into someones personal ride…. you know??  A big ole Mexican was pretty much shoe-horned into the tiny car so I just stood there like a huge goober because I didn’t know what else to do.  The man leaned over to the passenger side window and asked me if I wanted to go somewhere. My first thought was, ‘uh uh not with your kidnapping-ass.  I’ve seen dateline.’   But then I realized he had a name tag on that said, “Frank” – – seemed legit. LMAO  Between his broken English and my very bad Spanish we got a plan together.  He agreed to take me to a beach away from the tourist area, a place where I could snorkel and he would come back for me in a couple of hours!!  Frank’ dropped me off at a beach that wasn’t overly crowded – was beautiful. When I went to pay him he said to wait until later–

As I traipsed through the soft sand with my backpack, I about tripped over a 200 foot iguana. The hell??!  Making my way over to a palm I came across a waiter carrying a tray of coconuts decorated with little umbrella’s and a straw – I thought, “Hell, why not?”  I bought one then planted my butt in the shade of the palm.  So there I sat, under my palm tree sipping on a coconut full of alcohol, minding my own business when a rather large woman (no less than 4 bills) decided to share the shade of my tree. Saying nothing, I continued to sip my coconut unfazed while she got butthole naked right there beside me, while changing into her bathing suit.  It really wouldn’t have been a big deal to me if she hadn’t bent over. OMG! Ass-crack for days!! I about choked, no joke. I have to admit, I watched the entire process from beginning to end, amazed by not her getting naked in front of an entire beach of people but rather by the fact she was wearing a two-piece bikini and her bush was hanging out of the sides of her bottoms.  That was enough excitement for me- was times to hit the Gulf.   Unlike the shade-stealer, I had my bathing suit on under my cloths.  I stripped off my shorts and tank and crammed them into my backpack, slathered SPF9000 on my milky white skin, sucked down the last of the coconut nectar, grabbed my snorkel gear and headed out.    Man- I cannot tell you how awesome it was.   So many big gorgeous fish, lots of coral (never touch the red ones), and brightly colored tropical fish littered the water.

Ok, so I’m floating around taking it all in when I see a long silver fish..   with my snorkel sticking out of the water, I sat as motionless as the ebb and flow would allow.  That freaking fish was a barracuda, no less than 4 feet long.  I knew that damn thing had teeth and it would attack and it was sitting as motionless as I was, staring at me.  Wanna know why?  Remember that charm I slid onto my necklace back in Touristville? Well it was hanging down and clanking against another charm I had on my necklace. The sun was hitting it just right too… which basically made me lure. Shit. I slowly turned around and Michael Phelps’ed my ass back to shore.  As I was speed racing, I felt something bite me on the outside of my knee..I reacted by swatting at it, and it bit me again on my hand.  That was it, I was going to bleed to death in the Gulf of Mexico. I was being attacked by a killer barracuda and it had just taken my leg and my hand off– but I didn’t panic. I knew if I did I would probably not make it and I didn’t want my kids to have to identify my body, if in fact it ever made it back home, so I kept swimming until I got to the shallows where I could stand and run.

Gasping, I stood on the beach trying to catch my breath when I realized, I had my leg… and my hand. I laughed for like two seconds until I saw a red swirled pattern on the side of my knee. I looked at my hand – same thing. OMG!!  I WAS ATTACKED BY A FLIPPIN’ JELLY WHILE TRYING NOT TO BE EATEN BY A BARRACUDA!!!   I hobbled over to the tiki hut that sold those tasty little coconuts and pointed to my inflamed swirl. The barmaid had me sit on a chair and she poured some sort of alcohol on it. It made it hurt worse for a few minutes but then it stopped.  I guess the alcohol neutralized the poison (shrugs)  When it was time, I walked back to the road to wait for Frank.  He came back just as promised.  He laughed and shook his head when he saw my leg.. he said, “I take you to Charlies.” I smiled but kept thinking to myself, “Holy mother of God, who is Charlie??”     Frank sped down the gravelly road, swerving past other cars.  Many times I thought we were going to die in a head-on collision but at the very last second, the oncoming car would zig to Frank’s zag then they’d each continue to speed along. No wonder Frank’s car looked beat all to hell.  Frank stopped and pointed- I followed his finger with my eyes to a sign that said, “Carlos n’ Charlies.”   He asked me the name of my ship- and asked me for more money than was due him- which I found a little curious.  I handed him a wad of cash and told him the name of my ship.  He nodded with a smile and waited for me to get out of his cab. I shrugged that little bit of weirdness off and head into Charlies.

omg Charlies was the most fun I ever had in my entire life (up to that point anyway)  I danced on the tables while strangers threw popcorn at me.  I started to get ticked off until it was explained to me that popcorn is thrown at good looking people; then I was like, oh ok.. toss away!! hahaha. I also made a few trips too many around the restaurant in conga line, making pit-stops at designated waiters so they could pour flavored tequila down my throat.  All I remember after that was making myself throw up in Charlies bathroom and stumbling outside.  I don’t know how long I sat there but I do remember Frank putting me into his cab and driving me to my shuttle boat.  I remember seeing my reflection in the brass doors inside the elevator on the ship. I knew I was trashed but tried so hard to pull my act together so no one else would know. Yeah, that’s funny.  Ever see a legally embalmed person trying to act normal? hahahahaha   Somehow I made it back to my stateroom and slept it off without dying of alcohol poisoning.   I’m really thankful for Frank because he knew just by looking at me that Charlies would kick my ass.  He was right. Now I know why he asked for extra money- it was to pay my debt before it incurred.

Smart man.


Day 28 – “Beyond Scared Straight”


Have you ever seen this show?  You see what happens is this: a county jail takes in about 10 “at risk” kids as part of a court ordered program to, well, scare them straight.  Oh my God kids are bad these days.
These kids walk into the jail with smiles on their faces and wear their offenses proudly, as if they had on shiny gold badges.   THEY’RE BABIES!!! I’m talking 11 to 17 years old. 
Sometimes when I’m watching the show I laugh.. I mean co’mon now, an 11 year old ‘gang banger’? Oooooh scary!! 👇👈👉👋☝👌✊✌(that’s me throwing up gang signs on my android like an 11 year old) 😂

Ok look.. this little girl was 11; tell me who the hell is going to be afraid of an 11 year old little girl who’s wearing a pink, sparkly Justice tshirt and light-up sneakers?  I know I wish she’d try to intimidate me one time ’cause when she did, it would be her last damn time. hahaha She better hope those light-up shoes make her butt fly like Buzz Lightyear.
mmm mmm mmm..  

These Oklahoma kids were those children of the corn Stephen King warned us about!!! No joke.
These kids had violations for petty theft, drugs, fighting, arson, grand theft auto, fraud, forgery, assault on a parent. . .
Whoa. Stop. Back-up. 

I know kids do some stupid stuff, I get it, I’ve been there, done that and own the tshirt(s) but you can bet your life that no matter what ignorance my kids have done or will do, they will NEVER stand up in my face and disrespect me.
Nope. Momma don’t play those games.

Let me just say, I don’t have perfect kids…any one of my kids could at any moment decide to disconnect from common sense. For example, I had one steal from a store when she had more than enough money on her person and in the bank and she had a damn job. When the officer called me (and after my adrenaline from getting a call from an officer had disapated) I begged him to take my child to juvie to wait for her court date.  This momma is a good momma because this momma was like.. sit in jail you little shithead and while you’re in there, Imma cut off your cell phone and take your keys away.
….but the officer said juvie was full and I had to come pick her up.  WTH? What did he mean “full”?  And what did he mean I had to come pick her up?? 
Omg I had to drive from a birthday party almost 2 hours away from that child .. do u know how much pissed offness a momma can conjure up in 2 hours time?
Her punishment was a fine of $500 that I refused to pay and she had to make a few trips back up north to a check in with a court designated worker..kind of like a parole officer.   Lemme tell ya,  because I was like, “rot in jail,” that kid of mine has turned out to be a productive member of society.   She’s now a married momma herself. She works as an SRNA and will be a respiratory therapist upon graduation. (very soon btw) 

My son, he decided at the age of 20 to obtain a fake ID and get drunk at Hooters.   He tried to be smart after and sit on the curb with his buddy to sober up but.. his buddy decided he was ok to drive and tried to take the keys from my son. They started fighting and well, by doing do they drew attention on themselves and a cop came by.  My son was honest on why they were fighting. The cop ran their ID’s.. yep, the fake ones.  When he couldn’t bring up any info on the boys he questioned them.  My son was like.. “Which ID  did u run sir?”
The cop was nice but took them to jail to dry out. (Which I’m thankful for) They were also fined and that’s how I found out about the incident.  Here’s that telephone call:
Me: Hey Tate, missed you at church this morning.
Tate: yeah I’m sorry momma, I was out late- had to bail a friend of mine outta jail.
Me: oh. Ok. Anyone I know?
Tate: Uh uh.  Hey mom, if someone had to pay a fine where would they go to pay it?
Me: (proceeds to tell him)
Tate: Ok, mom.. it was me. I was in jail. Blah blah blah…
Good grief.

Thankfully Tate’s few hours in jail were enough to keep him out of trouble. He too a productive member of society, married, owns his own flooring business and has a baby on the way.
(Oh I can’t wait for paybacks) haha

In today’s world you just can’t take parenting lightly.  I’m really glad my two oldest had jail experiences.

3 to go…




Day 26 – Grasshoppers are scary

There’s only one thing I truly don’t like and that’s flying insects.  One time I had this huge Oscar fish named Willie. He was orange and cream colored with a little bit of gold.  I grew Willie from a tiny baby. He started out eating flakes then little pellets. He was the cutest little fish. He had a 50 gallon tank full of friends that he liked to play ‘chase’ with.  Willie was trained to beg for food when he saw us. We could hold his little pellets at the top of the water and he’d swim up and take them from your hand. As he grew he began eating bigger pellets and dried insects.  As a treat Willie ate ground beef or chicken, sometimes dogfood.  Willie grew into a beast. He was every bit the size of a dinner plate, no joke!!


And he was not a team player because while playing chase, he’d eat his friends.  Bad ass fish!!! Well this one time I forgot to goto PetSmart on the way home from work to get Willie’s bugs so I had to go out and catch some.  Damnit. 
You should have seen me in my long sleeved rubber gloves and mucking boots trying to catch a few grasshoppers. I’d attempt to sneak up on one and it would fly at me, I’d duck, swat, scream and run away, flailing my arms all at the same time.  I about had a nervous breakdown for real.  Grasshoppers are mean!!! I remember vividly finally getting one. It came out of nowhere and landed on a stepping stone near my boot.  I hurried and put my hand over it (yes with a gloved hand- no way in hell I’m going to touch it with my bare hands you sicko- they bite!!) and then I froze. It was like my brain disconnected from logic- I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to grab it and squish it in my glove and I also didn’t want to move my hand and take the chance of letting the grasshopper loose. If he would have flown at me in anger, I might have had a heart attack right there. Luckily for me my 2nd grader was there to come to my aid. Kayla picked that grasshopper up and carried him right in to Willie like a boss. (After I told her not to be scared; it wouldn’t bite)  hahahaha.
I’m such a bad mom.


I bet you anything Kayla wouldn’t touch a grasshopper now, not even to save her own life.


Day 25 – The day I met Mary Jo Juana

I met Mary Jo when I was a kid.  I guess I was about 13.  She was a friend of a friend and she also knew a lot of the people in my family, that being said, I thought I could trust her.  When we were growing up, Mary Jo liked to come over and hang out with my friends and I pretty often, but I didn’t care for her company all that much.  She kind of left a bad taste in my mouth.  youknowutiment?  Mary Jo and I ended up going our separate ways.

Several years later I found out that Mary Jo was living next door to me.  It happened by accident actually.  I was next door with Mable and Archy (trust me, I wish I made those names up for real) just hanging out talking like neighbors do sometimes when out of nowhere Archy introduces me to his friend, Mary.  I was like.. “OH MY GOD!!  WE KNOW EACH OTHER!!!”  What a small world it is sometimes, right??!?   Anyway, Mable, Archy, Mary Jo and I kind of hung out for a little while. It was nice to see Mary Jo- she took my divorce off of my mind.  Everything seemed to be going just fine until Mary Jo decided to be a bitch.  She started acting all weird and then out of nowhere, she punched me in the face. I couldn’t see!!!  I kind of started freaking out so I went home.  When I got home I was shaking and my vision hadn’t returned. Remembering that I had a sink full of water in the kitchen, I leaned over and started splashing my face, but it didn’t help.   All I know is that my (ex)mother-in-law and her sister came to get me and take me to the hospital.  They kept asking me what happened and no way in hell was I going to tell them about Mary Jo.  I told them I took a pill for a headache and I must of had a reaction to it.

Once at the hospital a medic named Jerry took my blood to run labs as a precaution, and asked me a lot of questions.  I kept telling him the same story I had told my (ex)mother-in-law… he wasn’t buying it.  He started getting loud and rude with me, and I told him that I would remember his name and when I felt better, I’d find his ass.  He laughed- which pissed me off even more.  Jerry kept saying that he was concerned about the dried blood in my hair. I kept telling him that nothing happened to my head.. I hadn’t hit it…. that I knew of anyway.   Jerry finally says to me, “Brandy, you have to tell me what you did or I can’t help you. I swear it will stay between us.”  So I started crying like a baby and I told Jerry about bumping into Mary Jo again after many years of not seeing her, and about my divorce, and how Mary Jo punched me and I couldn’t see and that’s all I knew.  And I didn’t want my husband to find out about this or he’d try to take my kids away…

Jerry’s harsh tone softened.  He asked me how often I saw Mary Jo and I told him again, I hadn’t seen her since I was like 13. I told him we weren’t really friends but when I saw her, I thought it would be nice to catch up for the night, just to forget about all that was going wrong in my life.   Jerry said he understood and wished me well and made me promise I’d not hang out with Mary Jo again because she was a bad friend to have.  I promised, and that was that. After several hours I got to go home.

The next morning when I woke up, I ran a shower.  While I was waiting for the water to get hot I looked at myself in the mirror. Blood?  Where did the blood come from?   I kept feeling my scalp but there weren’t any cuts or bumps anywhere. I was so confused and had no idea why I had dried blood all around my face in my hairline.

After the shower I felt better.  I started piddling about the house, picking up and putting away.  The kids would be home from their dads soon so I wanted to have everything done.  I noticed that the kitchen sink still had the dinner dishes soaking from the night before. Spaghetti.  Yuk.   As the water went out I noticed a thick red-orange grease line left behind.  I fell out laughing.  Remember, I had splashed water on my face trying to snap myself out of Mary Jo’s blow… it wasn’t dried blood in my hairline, it was nasty ass spaghetti dish water.  hahahahahahaha

Oh and by the way, I did remember Jerry’s name.  A few days later I got the nerve up to call the ambulance company I saw on his uniform.  When he came to the phone, I thanked him for taking care of me- and I wanted him to know that I did in fact remember his name and I assured him that Mary Jo and I were no longer pals. He laughed. Before we hung up Jerry told me that he had received my lab results and they were clear- there should be no further issues for me.  Then he told me to take care and we hung up.

Funny how sometimes a complete stranger treats you better than someone you once called, “friend.”

Mary Jo

Day 21- Carpal Tunnel

I really can’t say that I’m shocked by my diagnosis.  I’ve always been active and I’ve always used my hands.
One of my first jobs was data entry- and no one used anything ergonomically correct.   Then I went into a factory where I made pneumatic valves and pistons. That job was pretty fun. I enjoyed reading blueprints and building things; reworking a part that test bad was the best. Who doesn’t love a good puzzle??  The worst part of the job was apparently the repetition.. who knew that pulling high powered hand drills from above your head 10 to 12 hours a day, 5 days a week would reek havoc on your hands and wrist, all the way up to your shoulder?? 😉  It was during my 3rd year working at the “plant” that I ended up in PT.
I got fired shortly after for running my mouth to the wrong person so.. yeah PT ended too – can you say, “No insurance”?!?!
You see what happened was, my daughter broke her arm and I had to take time off.. time I didn’t have but what was I to do?  When I came back a few days later I was sent home on suspension- without pay.  THE HELL? Being part of a union, there was a meeting and whatnot and I popped off to the wrong person and was then escorted to my car.  Guess what? That was unpaid permanently. Hahahahaha
Anyway, after that I went back into an office for more keyboard and paperwork abuse.  Let’s not forget about all the crocheting I’ve been doing since I decided to stay home with kids.. plus now school work (all online)

I had a condition in my wrist – well, thumb actually called, “de quervains syndrome.”  You can Google it but basically if you tuck your thumb into your fist while holding your arm straight out, bending your fist down toward the ground. .that’s the test for it.  If it hurts reeeeaaalllly bad, yep. De quervains.  Summer 2013 I had the surgery to correct it. 

Here I am now with pain that starts with what feels like a weak wrist and it throbs it’s way up my arm and into my neck and shoulder blade.  It sucks!!
I saw the surgeon today. Carpal Tunnel. Damnit.  Now goes the long process to “fix” it before surgery.  Today was an injection of cortisone into the right carpal. I didn’t feel it but after the cold numbing stuff wore off I sure did. I still do. Next is more testing and more injections, then I can have my wrist cut open to release my tightly squeezed tendons.  I wish I could just get this over with but you know, gotta bill that insurance.

Oh and did you know that nowadays it’s not typing that gets you?? It’s using your cell phone too much that causes this syndrome. 😨 Doc told me (as she shot me up) to text left handed hahahaha  Is she crazy? I type bad enough using my dominant hand!! Hahaha




In having OCD and ADD it’s hard for me to sit still. There is always something to do other than what I should be doing (like homework right now) So, to keep myself from focusing on all the wrong things, I get everything else out of the way first.

This morning I knew all I needed to do was my homework so I got up at 7, got the kids off to school, cleaned and organized every room on my level of the house (I don’t dare go upstairs to the girls floor because then you’d never hear from me again) laundry is washing AND drying, 2Cellos plays on Pandora, got my water and my snacks….  I sit down, open ‘Connect’ and guess what?  I can’t remember if I took my Ritalin this morning. I guess I’m going to have to also face the fact that I’m old and I need a pill box with the days of the week on it.  Ugh.      I mean, I could take another Ritalin because they’re a 10mg pill but then I’d run out of pills too soon and being my luck it would be on the day I have finals and then if I asked my doctor for more he’d accuse me of making meth with them or something and I’d go to prison where I’d become someones girlfriend just to survive and I’d have to make shanks out of soap to show my loyalty to her.

Oh a good note though, I’d be like the awesome prison bitch because I know how to make prison Bombay’s. (see previous post)


Day 11 – Kill Whitey

I’m usually quite tame on here.  I don’t say what I’m thinking because I don’t want to ruffle any feathers but I am really confused. Really!  I’ve been thinking about something for years and I need help in understanding some things.  The older I get, the more confused I get about individual status.  I’m white. My family is mixed with Black, Mexican, and Asian. We have straight and gay people too.  I’m not a racist.  I’d beat my kids asses off if I heard or saw them discriminate against another, that being said,  I don’t know why I’m not allowed to have ‘white pride.”   I don’t know why I am not allowed to feel good about my race or my Christian religion. I don’t know why I can’t have my own white holiday in which I can take off from work/school. Not that I want to because it would be AWFUL, but if I wanted to, I don’t know why I can’t go to a white festival that shuts down Main street all day, with other white people to eat white people food and listen to white people music while I wear my white people attire.   I am in no way trying to take away from Cinco de Mayo or Black Pride day or Gay Pride day, or any other Pride day-  I’m simply stating a fact.  I don’t know why every other race, culture and religion can celebrate who they are without facing backlash.

I get it. White people decades ago enslaved Africans.  I get that white people centuries ago took land away from the Natives… I know some white people were whacko but I didn’t do this; not my grandparents, or my parents, not my generation, not my kids and not their kids- yet we are to made to feel like we have done something wrong.  Why?

And please explain to me when black people become ‘African Americans’?   I mean, I don’t care, it’s not my box to check, but the title doesn’t make sense to me.  Correct me if I am wrong, unless you’re born in Africa and/or unless you’re an actual citizen of Africa, you aren’t African, therefore you cannot be African-American simply because you’re black.  If you are born here, you’re an American.  You might be black or white or Chinese or Indian or whatever— regardless, you’re just American.  I don’t know why people need to stand out and make everything so difficult.  I don’t know why black people are still crying about how white people enslaved them.  I don’t get it- I never will when this isn’t NOW!!!   I know it was bad BACK THEN but come on now, get off of it already.  It’s 2015!!!

Why can’t we all just be who we are and be allowed to be proud of that? Why can’t we celebrate who we without worrying if it’s the ‘right’ thing or not? I’d like to be able to be who I am without getting shot over it. I’m profiled for having a lack of pigment.

I’m white. You’re black. You over there might be Hispanic or Asian- maybe you’re straight, maybe you’re gay…. who the hell cares????  I don’t, so why do you?  Why do you have to make me the bad guy when you don’t even know me?  Just like you aren’t your entire race, neither am I.

We are all just people, and it’s not right that the world wants to Kill Whitey.

Day 8 – Plasma

Before Scott and I were married, we were what you call, broke as heeeell (in my best Madea voice)  Scott has an excellent job with the state and being at the top of his grade, he is paid very well however, when you divorce a woman as complicated as advanced college calculus, a good attorney cost a lot!  Then there’s the other court costs and fees where he fought for custody and child support. Yeah.. so as I was saying… we were buuuuuuuuusted!!
One day I brought up how some people in my family use to donate plasma when I was a kid so they could buy cigarettes and gas.  
Scott and I found a plasma center in the next town over and decided to give it a go.  It wasn’t as bad as I expected when I walked in.  It was clean and professional looking. The center did have a lot of freaky looking people in the waiting area which made having to fill out a crap-ton of paperwork and waiting three hours go by faster. Got plenty of good laughs.
The screening process for plasma donation is crazy.  As I said, there was a phonebook thick packet of paperwork to fill out, then a small physical and then discussions about every tattoo and body piercing I had as the man scribbled their placements on a poorly drawn outline of a person on a sheet of paper.  When all was said and done, my outline looked like a forensic report from a crime scene.  Really? My tattoos came across as wounds from a prison shanking?
Good grief.

My husband was called back first but came back out before I even had a chance to be called. He apparently had a fever that he didn’t know about. He wasn’t sick, didn’t feel bad..he was fine but ok-
Then I was called back.  Nerves fluttered inside my belly as I made my way through to the donation chair.  As I sat down I took a look around at the other broke as hells. Everyone was either reading or listening to their ipods. They seemed ok as they danced their feet back and forth.    My nurse guy came over and began to explain the process as he wiped my skin with an alcohol swab.  A small poke and some tape and all was good. 


I sat there content looking around then glanced at my arm. The catheter in my vein was hooked up to tubing that was hooked up to two spinning cylinders that sucked blood from my body like some kind of mechanical vampire.  It was pretty cool to watch the machine pause then separate my whole blood into blood and plasma.  I was doing ok until the machine started sucking again. I saw my blood slowly fill the tube and I got all cold and clammy. As the sweat bead up on my face I became dizzy –  my nurse guy came over and asked if I was ok and I said, “Nope. I don’t feel well.”  The next thing I know, he is unhooking me from the tubes and another nurse lady start putting ice on my head, neck and lower back.  Then they’re both telling me to move my feet.  Move my feet?  Why the hell do I want to move my feet?  I don’t want to move my feet I want to not throw up… like, can you get me a twinkie or some juice, damn?!?!
I felt better after the nurse guy hooked my other arm up so the bionic vampire could regurgitate my fluids back into my body.  When I wobbled out into the waiting room where my husband sat he said I looked as white as a ghost. I told him I think I fainted hahahaha Scott said he knew something was going on when everyone in the back started buzzing like angry bees.
Hahahha oh well. Shit happens and guess what? They still gave me my money… that’s right, momma got paid.