Turd Talk

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. I apologize. I can see a trend that when American Idol is on, I blog less. I’m in an office pool and I write a weekly recap of my thoughts and send to other contestants in our group; which really fulfills my need to write something, hence no new blogs. And I don’t want this blog to become an American Idol recap otherwise I’d post those recaps, so again another reason no blog. SOOOO, I’ve decided to break that cycle with a light and fluffy piece I’m calling Turd Talk.

I have a usual amount of poop related instances that I’m going to share with you today. (And I’m not even going to mention husband-centric stories, cause that’s many blog onto itself. These are all me.)

Embarrassing Story #1 – I remember a time in my relationship that I was not comfortable doing #2 anywhere near my boyfriend Mr. Michaelson. I would say for at least the first two years of our relationship, I would excuse myself to go home if I felt the need to pinch off a loaf. So, I’m at his parents’ house and I’ve got to doodie. Michael, bless his heart, convinces me to stay and use his mom’s bathroom. It’s one of those occasions that if I go home, I’ll stay home but the night is still kind of young and he just wants his super-hot girlfriend to stick around a bit longer. I relent. And what happens? The first time I shit at his house, I clog the damn toilet! Better yet, there’s no plunger to get my linkin’ log loose and flushed away. I have to ask for assistance because I don’t know where in the house their plunger is stored. No matter the fact that everyone poops, it’s still highly embarrassing to ask your boyfriend for a plunger for your extra-large dump.

Embarrassing Story #2 – I fart. I fart a lot. I am not embarrassed by farts. I feel like it’s a built-in funny joke that everyone in the world possesses. So, imagine me alone in my car. I have to fart. No big deal right? I’m alone, and there’s no one to offend or smell my brew, so I let loose. This particular fart requires a very slight bit of push. It feels a bit funny but I ignore that, whatever. I arrive at work and I get busy working. I take my first bathroom break and I notice my moment of gas was a SHART! (Urban dictionary that if for some crazy reason you don’t know what a shart is.) So what do I do? I tell my nearest co-worker I’m taking a super early break if the boss asks and I run to Target. I get baby wipes to clean my rear end and new underwear. When I return to work, the boss isn’t happy I ran out. I blame my non-existent period to my boss. I understand her reasoning to please talk to her before I leave but I didn’t know how to say “I didn’t want to stand in your small office and risk you smelling my feces.” It was not an enjoyable experience.

Some observations about my Droppings:

1. I always look afterwards. Dr. Oz says that’s ok.

2. I’m consistently surprised at the size. I’ll have ones that I’m sure will be super long and I find they are nugget sized. Or others that came out so quick, they gotta be tiny but they actually wrap around the porcelain.

3. I absolutely can’t go in a woman’s restroom if others are around. Not gonna happen.

4. It once smelled like spaghetti and I found it disturbing.

5. I wipe front to back. Back to front (not super high, don’t want dookie near my cootie). Front to back. If I need to repeat, I do all three wipes again until satisfied.

I’ve got a few other stories but I think I’ll keep those in storage for another rainy day. Thanks for reading my little ditty on Turd talk. I hope I at least made you chuckle.

My First PMS Bout (I think)

It’s not often I write a downer blog but this one is. So run scarred now. You’ll find no humor here. I literally just want to publically complain for the next hundred words or so. (Praying it gives me relief or at the least give you fair warning why I’ve been a complete bitch lately.)

My attitude as of late…ANNOYED! Everything and everyone is annoying me this week. I want to violently hit something. I want to be sarcastic. I want to scream. I’ve never suffered from PMS. Never. I’m serious. And thank god, because I imagine that’s how women feel on a monthly basis. I wouldn’t be able to take this feeling all the time. (Just look up more info on PMS, that’s definitely what I’m going through right now. Did you know that PMS is more often in women between the ages 20 -40 and have at least one child? I totally meet those requirements.)

My poor husband asked me why I’m so fiesty and I have no real reason why. (I guess I should say, it’s hormonal but that feels like an easy out.) I just know that a certain someone’s crunchy chip bag eating has me on edge. “YES you got all the yogurt out of your container; NOW stop scrapping the bottom for more!” I don’t want to hear you talk to yourself. I don’t want that chain email. I can’t control my eye roll and body tension when something I say is crystal clear to me and not to you. How dare you ask me questions!?! I want to forget my manners and be rude. I want to be mean. But because I was raised better, I feel like I just keep absorbing the annoyances and they just keep building up.

So, I vow to go home. Take care of Desmond (who is the only one not feeling my wrath) and then I think I need to kick my own ass or something. Perhaps my honey could channel Cher and slap me across the face shouting “Snap out of it!” Whatever it is, it needs to go. And it’s starting now. Perhaps if I make myself smile more, I’ll internalize the look on my face. All I know is, I’m desperate to shake this and I’m thankful I’m not normally an overly annoyed person. And if none of this works, I can’t wait till my period comes and relieves these symptoms. Then I’ll pray that this isn’t a new trend to my monthly cycles.

Today, yesterday and the day before would have been days I ate myself “happy”. But I’m still going strong on counting calories, at least I haven’t rec’d that for myself. (There’s a positive; I must focus on that.)

End rant.

(How do you relieve stress? I can’t promise your answers won’t annoy me even though I asked. I’m in that weird of a mood.)

DIY Project #1

I am in the process of redecorating my master bedroom. The room is bare, pending paint and new furniture. And while that is in slow progress, I’ve been looking for accessories to fit the room. Well, I have yet to find any type of art to hang above our bed. So, I found a few DIY projects and thought, I can do this. But can I really?

So here’s is how the project started – Blank canvases purchased at Hobby Lobby (used 40% coupon on each, yahoo!)

I then covered the canvas in book pages. (FYI…I used Twilight pages for a hint of romance)

I used a mixture of 2 parts water to 1 part school glue to adhere the pages to the canvas. (Had I stopped here, I would have liked my canvas better but nope, things shall continue.) Since my bedroom will have pops of yellow, I wanted the canvas to be tinted yellow. I used a mixture of water and Martha Stewart Acrylic Paint and tested on a small section to make sure it was transparent enough.

Now comes the art skills…which I lack. So here is the unintentional gothic/Halloween tree that made it onto the canvas.

Too quote my mother, “I don’t hate it.”

But here was the inspiration…not even close…

My branches are way too thick to add in the little leaves blowing in the wind. And it’s just much too spooky of a tree to really go with the flow of the room I have envisioned.

So I’m stuck.

And that’s why this is called DIY Project #1…because Project #2 will probably end up right on top of this one. Back to the drawing board.