:: American Angst ::

Tuesday, Sept. 06, 2005 Why George Is Not Allowed to Shop Alone.... So George and I went grocery shopping the other day. I really shouldn't have gone since my back is out and the doctor reeeeally gave me crap about not listening to my body and resting my back when it goes out like this. The doc didn't find much humor in my declaration that I simply don't have time for this shit, cause I'm only 35 and I have things to DO, man, and just went on with his preaching about how I needed to stop being so stubborn about my disease and the moment I start feeling even a little bit better, that doesn't mean I should just jump up and do a million things, because I'll just throw it back out again and make it worse. He went on with his positive speech by saying "This is not going to get better. In fact, it's probably going to get worse. A LOT worse. Genetics suck, but it is what it is. There is no cure and probably never will be. All we can do is manage your pain." And, despite it being rather depressing to hear that, it was actually quite refreshing to be presented with such brutal honesty...kinda like having a doctor's appointment with George. So he lectures me on just getting over my stubborn attitude and giving in to the pain and resting when this happens and how if I don't it'll just be that much worse. So what do *I* do two days later when the corticosteroids start working and I feel a bit better?? Yep, I totally ignore the doctor and go grocery shopping (and we just won't discuss how right the doctor was and how much worse my back is now, okay? OKAY!?) See, but this is all George's fault. He can't be trusted to shop alone. Case in point? One of my other doctors told me to start taking vitamins with Folic Acid in them. So I added that to the grocery list and, while we were going through the store --a little too fast, especially considering how crowded it was, but my back was screaming and I knew it was just a matter of time before it gave out completely, so I was hauling ass through the store...well...as much as a twisted woman in pain can haul ass, which...if I'm being honest here, looked remarkably like the Hunchback of Notre Dame with a shopping cart-- George sees that I'm fading fast and offers to go get a few things, one of which was vitamins, and he says "Okay. Red peppers, yellow peppers, green peppers, red cabbage, onions, and sulfuric acid, right?" Sulfuric. Acid. Yep, that's my loving man. See why I hafta ignore the doctor?? ********************************* George and I were watching a movie yesterday and something in it sparked a memory and I felt the need to share it with him. You all recall the Kid in the Hat episode, yes? Well the other day I walked into the computer room and saw my son sitting at the desk playing an online game and....wearing a Santa hat. In August. I tell George this and I am surprised that he did not begin his *blink...blink...blinkety-blink* action that he normally does when I relay a story of our son's odd behavior. Instead he just says "Oh, I know." This confuses me. This is not our normal script. "What do you mean you know??" "Well" he says, "the other day I was sitting here watching television and he walks downstairs to get something to drink...walks right by me and he was...." and we say it together "wearing a santa hat". I begin laughing. George asked him "Kiddo...why are you wearing the Santa hat?" and The Kiddo's reply? "Cause I found it." Apparently I missed out on the truly splendiferous blinkety-blink action by a few days. ********************************* More on why I deserve an award for not shooting my husband: A few nights ago, George and I were watching Everybody Loves Raymond. We love this show. Not just because it's funny, and not just because Ray and Debra are nearly identical to us and our own marriage (more on the George = Ray side), but because watching Ray's parents --Frank and Marie-- is like looking into the future. Frank is what George will be like in twenty years. Hell, he's nearly there now. So we're watching the episode where Frank's lodge elects him Man of the Year and since nobody really likes him at the lodge, his sons have a hard time compiling a video tribute and Frank gets pissed off and leaves the ceremony. His wife, Marie, follows him home and they sit on the (plastic-covered) couch and eventually Frank asks Marie to tell him what things she would say if she had given the tribute. She says some nice things and he's happy. She then asks him what he would say about her and of course he refuses and ignores her and hurts her feelings and blah blah blah the show goes on. So later that night, George and I are in bed and I'm about to read a book as I always do before going to sleep, but this time I hesitated. I was worried that I wasn't paying enough attention to my sweetie, so I decided to chat with him before he fell asleep. I'm so dumb. I asked him "So. If I were nominated Woman of the Year, what would you say in tribute to me?" And would you like to hear his response? Would ya? Oh ya have to. Cause it's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said in the history of mankind. He said "Well...I'd demand to know who the hell was on the voting board." Isn't that precious? MAN, I just can't get over my sheer luck at snagging this gem of a husband. Of course George is then forced to nearly piss himself laughing at his comedic genius and then declares his comment "Reeeeally freakin' funny" and requests of me my admission of such. He has a hard time getting this out of me, as immediately after this beautiful comment of his, I yank my book up to my face and proceed with my Pretending to be Reading ploy. He tries to hold my hand, but I play Keep Away with it for a few minutes until it becomes apparent that he isn't going to stop until I give him my appendage. He holds my hand in his, kisses it, and says "You know I'm just playin' with ya, right?" And he seems a bit perturbed when I answer with: "Yes, FRANK, I do." Note to Self: Always, ALWAYS go with the reading option. Never, EVER try to be sweet and chat up your smart-ass hubby before bed. ********************************* I have no idea why this conversation began, but George and I were discussing the fact that he kicks in his sleep and that I think he has Restless Leg Syndrome. He doesn't much care. I suggest that he mention this possibility to his doctor. He decides not to and then we get on the subject of his exams and he tells me that he gains much enjoyment out of his trips to the doctor's office (he has Ankylosing Spondylitis) and how, about half the time, his reflexes don't work. The doctor will tap him just below the knee and nothing will happen. The doctor will mutter some form of "Hmmm" and use his fingers to locate the muscle and will tap again. And again he is met with George's dangling, non-kicking response. The doctor becomes even more baffled by this and will again use his fingers to locate the muscle and then, for good measure, will leave his fingers on his leg and hit his own fingers with the hammer. Still nothing. So they will look at George with confusion (and a little fear, apparently) and will back away slowly and begin furiously writing on their notepad. George gets much pleasure out of this. I decided to have a little fun of my own, after the Woman of the Year episode above, and began talking to George about the doctor's appointment I had last week for my back. They're setting me up for an epidural to control the pain and I had to go in for x-rays and an examination first. I mentioned that I also had to do the reflex test where they pop you with a hammer, (and made sure to point out that, since I am not possessed by the devil as he is, MY reflexes actually work) and how I had to press against the doctor's hand with my feet as I always do. I saw that George was a little confused by this, as apparently his appointments don't involve the same sorts of tests mine do, so I decided to go a bit further. I said that I just don't understand why so many doctors insist on doing a nipple reflex test on me. That I just don't understand what the hell that has to do with my back or any other condition I might have. And people...the look on my husband's face was priiiiceless. His eyebrows narrowed and he looked angry, but at the same time he was shocked and surprised. Imagine those two looks occurring simultaneously. So very funny. He started asking what the hell they did that for and what was I talking about, but I couldn't keep a straight face any longer and admitted that I was just kidding. No, I have no reason for doing that to him...these weird-ass things just pop into my head and I am forced to indulge them. ********************************* Someone Arrived Here Searching For: stinky ass fart "my thighs touch" she good ass america thunder tits "opposite of pms" [rationality?] girls farting sounds for free smoked sausage fucking her ass porn stupid porn [is there any other kind??] a picture of a midget screwing a dog love story about two lizards my tan ass white girls naked of the same person midget poop sex dont pay for porn ding the fries are done by the retarded burger king man sexy man fucking to doggy [once again, a shining example of the educational use of the internet in India.] girl farts in my face when am bad boob lick in different corporate sex pics gracie whispers gracie corporate resume home maid porn women loves enemas [beeeeg to differ, sweets] eye rolling at work funny porn words i please my husband to f*ck my ass what is "go nut" means funny clean house nude [there is NOTHIN funny about cleaning the house] butter dog +porn corey im obese brigitte nielsen open your legs [let's be original and see if we can get her to CLOSE them!] "sleeping bitch" pass gay men spandex free elevator sex hidden picture of a womans face in the cliffs above the winding road girls kick nuts hurts funny in porn, what does atm stand for? embarrassing moments while pooping in pants on accident i love the smell of my mothers ass goot gear bitch+with+muscles+porn naked, painful birthday spankings indian rebel porn what to wear to a hockey game comcast good porn no children outside after 10pm white bitch sucks black dog [you HAVE to be kidding] farted in front of boss xmas porn shirt people secretly farting and all i want to do is get her fuckin voice outta my head ********************************* Write me a Note here. 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