The Final Countdown

Goodbye, Massachusetts.

Hello, California!



See you on the road.

insert the sound of a baby crying here

Not my baby. Someone else's:


You may have noticed that I am a Michigan State fan (and by the way, Spartan basketball FOR THE WIN!). This kid's parents are raising her right. If and when I have kids I plan to do the same. The only way that could be better is if the baby were in a nativity scene, because then I could say that the University of Michigan makes the baby Jesus cry.

You know what else makes Jesus cry? Moving clear across the country.

New Kids on the Block will be in Manchester, New Hampshire tomorrow night, but can I go? NOOOOOO. Because I have to move to California the next day. The good news is that they will be in Fresno on April 16. And if my husband is a good boy he will make the necessary arrangements because HELLO? He lost his WEDDING RING and I WAS NOT MAD.

I've been scrambling around trying to get my affairs in order for moving day. Wednesday. As in the day after tomorrow. It's a good thing that I don't have to pack anything myself, because I've been very, very busy preparing some important people for the trip.

Plant (pronounced Plaaahnt; #87-91 of my 100 Things), for one.

Before:



After:



And also Jasper, who was determined to eat his own hairball:



So who thinks Plant will survive the cross-country car trip?

Hooray for blog friends!

Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting a longtime blog-friend for the very first time. Jamie is a fellow Michigan native I've known since way back in my Diary-X days. Just last month we discovered that we live half an hour away from each other (and that we both hate it in Massachusetts). Since I'm bailing on this fail state soon, we knew this could be our only chance to meet in person.

We spent five hours chatting at Starbucks--I don't think there's anything we didn't cover. It was so nice to let it all out with somebody, face to face, who understands how I feel 100 percent. The only reason we left was because it was closing time (and because our cats were waiting for us at home).

I can't think of a better ready-made friend than Jamie. We have a ton in common (cats! veganism! darling husbands! our excellent home state!) and I feel like we're truly kindred spirits. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not very good at making friends, so having made one all by myself feels so good.

Except that now I'm leaving. Such is life, I guess. I know our friendship will continue to grow online, where it started. And if I ever have to come visit Massachusetts, I'll have her smiling face to look forward to.

If he were a hockey goalie, I'd call him a sieve.

A few days ago Jason called me from the hotel he had stopped at in Colorado. When I heard the contrite, please don't be mad at me honey tone in his voice, I knew something was wrong. Or more accurately, that he thought he had done something wrong.

My first thought was that something had happened to the car or that he had gotten a speeding ticket. When he told me that he had dropped his wedding ring down the sink while washing his hands, I almost felt relieved.

It was a white gold band that he bought in Antigua when his aircraft carrier came into port there when he was on cruise in 2006. He bought it for $195. We'll make an insurance claim on it, of course, but there are worse things to lose. For example, my rings.

Jason had hotel maintenance take apart the sink to see if it was stuck in the pipes, but it wasn't there. He searched the car and retraced his steps through the hotel and the snow-covered parking lot, but couldn't find it. He's not sure if he even had it when he got there. Really, it could be anywhere between Massachusetts and Colorado.

He insisted on ordering a new one right away, and even found the one he wanted on Blue Nile, the Web site from which he bought my engagement ring and band.

In an ironic turn of events, I had arranged to sell my wedding dress to someone on Craigslist earlier that day. I'd had it listed on and off for a few months, but never had any serious inquiries. This lady was so intent on snatching it up that she didn't want to try it on or even unzip the bag to see it. She stuffed $125 for the dress and $30 for my veil into my hand and practically dove into her car. I think she was afraid I would change my mind.

I thought I might feel a little pang of regret as I handed my dress over, but I was at peace the whole time. Not that I'm glad that it's gone, I'm just relieved to not have that monkey on my back anymore. It's just not practical to keep a wedding dress hanging in your closet.

So I watched my dress ride off into the sunset, then went inside and ordered Jason a new ring--engraved with our initials. It arrived today and it is lovely--way nicer than the first one. Plus, its design is similar to my rings (and my Christmas earrings), so we coordinate.

He wants me to get down on one knee and present it to him when I get to California. I pointed out that he didn't kneel when he proposed to me, but he doesn't think that matters.

In fact, I might not give it to him at all. I've been wearing it on my right hand and I rather like it.

He won't be able to lose it if I'm wearing it.

chicken toothpaste

Jason arrived in California last night. He's staying in a barracks room (with TWO mini-fridges, people), but said he's going to buy a sleeping bag and camp out in our new place when our lease starts on April 1.

That's right, we got the townhouse I mentioned previously! I have to mail my signed lease papers tomorrow so Jason can get our keys next week.

For our move, I don't technically have to pack anything. All of it is taken care of by the military movers. Unfortunately, we have so much clutter that I have to at least find a drawer or shelf for things so there aren't random pieces of junk sitting around everywhere. I've been Freecycling like crazy, so that has helped some. Unfortunately most of this crap is mine, so I can't blame it on Jason. Men don't really have knick-knacks. I have more than I know what to do with. I'll do some more culling over the weekend, but time is running out.

Moving on, I've been meaning to report some good news about Jasper: a couple of weeks ago we had his blood sugar levels tested, and his diabetes is finally under control. The cross-country drive and new home are probably going to throw him all out of whack, but at least we've found a kind of insulin that works for him.

I'll have to keep working on the tooth-brushing.

Because I am incredibly immature

And also because American Idol and Survivor are on at the same time tonight and then Lost is on and then Real World is on and TV rules my life I have a lot to do for the big move in a week so I really don't have time to write anything of substance.

I have this to share with you:



I wish Jason were here to share this very important moment in produce with me. Because what is funnier than an already-phallic root vegetable having its own little something extra?

Barreling into the future at breakneck speed

What a week I have had, people of the Internet.

I have to rewind all the way to Sunday. After several days of trying to style my new haircut myself and failing miserably, I decided I had to get it fixed. The front was fine, but the back was a big, stupid mess--it looked like I had cut it myself, it was so bad. I headed to a salon I had gone to previously and got a walk-in appointment with a stylist I'd seen before. She worked WONDERS. My hairs look cuter and more "done" than they have in quite a while. It was such a relief. I had been flipping my lid about Jason coming home and seeing me looking like I got my hair done on the short bus. The thought was horrifying, I tell you. Because seriously, if I can't manage my own head in his absence, what good am I?
Monday evening I got myself looking presentable, as seen above, and headed to the airport to retrieve my long-lost love. When he came strolling through the security doors I jumped on him so enthusiastically that he had to step back to regain his balance. We didn't get much sleep that night.

The next morning I was unceremoniously rousted from bed when my mother-in-law showed up half an hour early for her plans with Jason. She somehow got past our building's security doors and called every phone we have as she walked the halls. Jason went to the door in his underwear to let her in. She then proceeded to turn on the TV at such a high volume that it was impossible for me to pretend to have slept through her arrival. I begrudgingly pulled on my dirty clothes from the night before, slapped on some mascara, brushed my hair and teeth, and made an appearance for the sake of politeness. "Hello," I said, feigning warmth. Said she, in the local dialect: "I LIKE yowa HAAAAAIYAAA!"

I may be an unfit wife who's trying to change every little thing about her baby boy (according to her), but damn it, I do have good hair. Good thing she didn't see me last week with my short bus 'do.

She and Jason left shortly after to spring the Corvette (which I have taken to calling his precioussss) from winter storage, so I was spared any further unsolicited conversation that morning. Our oh-so-merry bunch (that's sarcasm, friends) was reunited later on when we met both parents-in-law at Jason's grandparents' house so he could see them one more time before he's tied down in California (and no, I don't plan to untie him). It was good to see his grandparents, and I hope very much that he knows how proud they are of him. Maybe it will dull the sting of knowing that there are those who seem more resentful than proud.

Of the four days he was here, Jason spent three of them at the car dealership having the Corvette serviced. He may have spent more time with the Chevrolet guys than he did with me. If we ever get divorced, I'm going to make sure I get that car just to hit him where it really hurts. At least with all the tune-ups it got this week, I know that car will make it across the country just fine.

Oh, RELAX! I'm kidding. But not about the part where he went to the dealership three times. If it gets him there safely, though, I'm not going to complain. He is committed to his car maintenance, but even more committed to me.

Wednesday he took me to the Air Force base near us so I could get my military dependent ID. I'm now a card-carrying Navy wife, again. The only downside of it is that my ID picture is heinous--I look like the Crypt Keeper.

Yesterday we splurged on an evening out at, where else, the Cheesecake Factory. Jason was relieved to learn that there is one in Fresno. He wasn't sure he could go on living without access to one. I did my usual tour of the drink menu, Jason stared at my boobs all night, and all was right in the world.

This morning we got up and got more done in an hour than we had in the previous three days. First, Jason called the military mover people to see if we could bump up the big move from the end of May to sometime in April.

I AM MOVING TO CALIFORNIA ON APRIL 1.

Then he called a townhouse community in Hanford (near Lemoore) that we've had our eyes on to see if we could reserve a unit without actually going there (we were waitlisted for base housing--we're eighty-fifth on the list, so it'll be a while before anything's available).

WE ARE THISCLOSE TO HAVING A TOWNHOUSE LOCKED DOWN.

It's the Crystal Creek model on the link above, if you're curious. Two floors of superCALIfragilisticexpialidociousness with a one car garage for Jason's precioussss.

Then we went over to the leasing office and gave our notice. We'll have to pay for the full month of April rent, but I don't really care. I'll gladly pay a little extra to be done with Massachusetts forever.

When Jason left this afternoon, I barely even cried. I'll see him again in a few weeks--and then we can start our lives sans Massholes, as if we never made the mistake of moving to Massachusetts in the first place.

So happy.

That is all.

Why I Shaved My Legs

Because he's coming to see me:


Don't recognize him? How about here:



Still not sure? How about this:



YES! Jason is coming back to Massachusetts for two days to get his Corvette and drive it out to California before he checks in at NAS Lemoore and starts working. I'm getting him at the airport Monday night. I am giddy.

That's a pretty good reason to shave the old legs, huh?

P.S. Don't worry. The baby is Jason's nephew. He's five now and kicks Jason's ass at Wii car racing games.

Beware: Ugly Panties

Today I got out of the tub after shaving my legs*, reached into my underwear drawer in the dark, and pulled out the most hideous underwear I own.

They are a pair of pink briefs that I got for free from Victoria's Secret. In fact, the only reason I have them is because they were free and couldn't be returned.

These panties (we're going to call them that because that is what they are) are so heinous that they don't look particularly flattering even on the lovely Selita Ebanks. Luckily for her, she has someone to airbrush out the muffin top they undoubtedly give her. The elastic waistband on these panties is so tight that it would give Keira Knightley a muffin top. Yes, they are that bad.

What you can't see in the picture is that everything gets worse in the back. These panties have DIAPER BUTT.

You know that extra room left in babies' diapers to accommodate whatever might come out back there? The poop pocket? THESE PANTIES HAVE THAT.

Perhaps that is why the description doesn't have a back view.

Don't get me wrong. I have a fat ass. It's not a Serena Williams badonk-a-donk (as seen here), but it's fat. Yet I can't even fill these out. The waist digs in like a chastity belt, but the butt is too big. Whose waist and ass are these panties cut for, Jennifer Lopez?

Ladies, save your money. Don't buy these baggy-ass panties.

Rant over.


* There is an excellent reason for doing this--that I will divulge at a later date--but alas, it does not involve Jordan Knight or Donnie Wahlberg. Sorry.

Keyword Roundup, Volume 9

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What the future holds

Big news, people of the Internet. It's time for the big reveal. The announcement of the decade.

Well, ok, maybe it's not that big. But it's big to me.

For those of you who are new to this blog, a little background: Jason reenlisted in the U.S. Navy at the beginning of February after having been out for two years. He has been at Naval Station Great Lakes in Illinois waiting for his orders for the past month.

Well, they finally came through!

The place we'll be spending the next few years is... (drumroll, please):

Naval Air Station Lemoore in Lemoore, California!

Jason has to report there at the beginning of April. I don't know yet when I'll head out, but probably not until we have someplace to live. I'm hoping for base housing, because they are all absolutely gorgeous.

In other news, I finally got a much-needed haircut. Below is the style I was aiming for, and how it turned out on me. And yes, I got my hair done like a Real World cast member. Stop judging me. I have hair issues.



I like it! I am also sorely tempted to dye my hair darker for dramatic effect. I won't actually do it, of course, but I can't help but think that it would be a striking look.

It felt so good to have a reason to get out of the house yesterday. The weather has been sunny and gorgeous, the snow is melting, I took a spin through the car wash, and I even saw a bee. I was all, BEE! Hi, bee! I love you, first springtime bee! Stay out of my car, bee!

Have I ever mentioned how much I love going through the car wash? Because I love it. I like to pretend that the brushes are giant octopuses attacking my underwater vehicle. The car wash is one reason Jason and I get along so well: he washes his cars a lot, so I get to see my octopuses a lot. It is a win-win situation.

But I have to go. There is college basketball to be watched, and I like that even more than I like car wash octopuses.

He comes running when he hears the foods clink against the dish.

The other day I had to go buy cat food because I nearly ran out over the weekend. Jasper would have you believe that I starve him, but that just isn't true. I spent $112 on cans of mackerel and tuna, bringing our 2009 total amount spent on cat care to almost $2000. I bet I haven't spent that much on my own food and medical bills this year.

This stash had better last a while.

Because I am a lonely cat lady...

Eff My Life

Thanks to my sister, I have found a new way to waste time when I should be working amuse myself: FMyLife.com. The site is a collection of user-submitted stories only a few sentences long about why their lives are... effed. I love it.

I have my own "eff my life" story, a little gem from last night. I was cleaning out a container of stuff in the bathroom closet and I found my old retainer, which I have not worn with any regularity since at least 2005, when I met Jason and decided not to wear it anymore (because I had better things to do with my mouth at night). Not that I was supposed to be wearing it all this time, since I got my braces off in 1997, but my mother has always tried to scare me and my sister into continuing to wear our retainers. She'll bare her own somewhat crooked teeth at us and warn us we'll end up like her if we don't wear them (because she stopped wearing hers). It has been a fairly effective tactic over the years. My sister still wears hers from time to time.

I had braces from seventh grade to just before tenth grade. An eternity. Not only did I have braces, I had two different sets of braces. The first ones came off because we moved and got a new orthodontist who didn't use the kind of braces I had. Yes, apparently there are different kinds of braces. In between sets, I had an expander--a medieval torture device that expands your mouth by pushing your teeth outwards. I have a remarkably small mouth. Dentists have commented that judging by the tooth indentations on my tongue, it doesn't fit in my mouth properly (um, thanks?). And even post-expander they always end up using the child-sized trays and other accoutrements of dentistry. So... I am a dental freak.

The expander covered the entire top of my mouth and gave me a totally obnoxious speech impediment. Food was always getting stuck up in it. I had to stick a little key in it every night to click it one notch bigger. I was in constant pain. And did I mention that I had the expander the summer I went to smart kid camp? I could not have been any lower on the pre-teen totem pole. It was awful. By the end of the summer, I had a huge gap between my two front teeth. I browsed my old photo albums for proof, but couldn't find any pictures that showed just how bad my teeth looked. They were all either too dark to scan or I had my mouth clamped shut. This one from seventh grade (before I got the first braces put on) is the best I could find. I'm the one in the crown. Get a load of those snaggle-teeth.

The point of this story is that I put the bottom retainer in my mouth last night (the top one has long since broken). It hurt immediately. Instead of taking it out like any sane person would do, I decided I needed to wear it while I watched TV. I took a couple of expired generic painkillers ( I told you I was cleaning out the closet) and went back to the couch. I took it off to brush my teeth before going to bed. My mouth felt better right away without all of that pressure on my teeth. I took this as a sign that I needed to wear my retainer overnight, which I can do now since Jason is gone and I don't need to be, um, alluring (see also my unshaved legs). I downed another two expired painkillers (they're still good, right?) and got into bed, trying to figure out where to put my tongue with a hunk of plastic and metal taking up the lower portion of my mouth. I never did find a good place.

When I woke up this morning I felt like my lower jaw had been rearranged. I took one expired painkiller. I moseyed out to the kitchen to make some breakfast and absentmindedly stuck a crust of bread in my mouth before realizing that I couldn't chew.

Eff my life.

Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!

Today I worked, cleared ten inches of snow off of my car, and went to the grocery store. What did my husband do? He went to Chicago for pizza and a taping of the Jerry Springer show.

Oh, military life.

He said a group of 15 Navy guys were going. They were supposedly going to be sitting in the front row. Unfortunately, they didn't get to go in uniform. I'll be sure to post about it if he makes it on TV.

In related news, we had to give notice about renewing or terminating our lease on Saturday. Since Jason doesn't have orders to a permanent duty station yet, we weren't in a position to make a commitment like that. I told our property manager just that, and she offered to write up a six-month extention at the same rate we've been paying, with a military clause that allows us to give them only 30 days' notice before moving out (it's usually 60 days). Sounds good to me!

In unrelated news, I am dying for a haircut. I haven't had one yet this year and I'm feeling raggedy. Any suggestions? What is hot right now? And yes, it really is that bad. See? Help!

My plan for tonight is to sit on my ass watching the Bachelor finale and attempting to stay up to watch New Kids on the Block on Jimmy Kimmel. Excellent. I obviously aim high.

I'm craving rum. Classy.

Most of all, I'm craving this:


Tomorrow marks four weeks since he left. I miss him so much.