Just Call Me Babar

I hadn't heard from either my Dr's office or the Sleep Clinic in two weeks, so I called my Dr. They had my results, but were unable to open them, computer related crap, blah blah blah, we'll get back to you.  A few days pass, and they call with the results, SEVERE sleep apnea. And I can tell you it must be VERY severe because the nurse who called paused and then STRESSED the word SEVERE. I think she even said it a few times. For effect. So basically, yeah, I'm close to death when I sleep from lack of breathing. SWEET.

Not an hour later, the sleep clinic was calling to make sure they get my Medically Insured Reimbursed business. I go in the next few days for my training and to pick up my C-PAP machine with its ""very convent and sporty duffel bag for easy transportation."

 YES. SPORTY.  What more can a girl ask for??

The Elephant.....





And it's trunk



And the Nose

This thing can have its own PILLOW??? Oh brother.



Am I wrong here people???



Do you see it? I'll look like I'm wearing an ELEPHANT'S FACE




Forced Air Breathing

Sleep study is done. Surprise! I have Sleep Apnea. I haven't gotten the full diagnosis from my actual doctor, but the Sleep Tech was rather impressed with my lack of breathing.
It took a good hour to fill out all the paper work and for my Sleep Tech to attached all the electrodes to my head. When she was done I kind of looked like the Queen Borg with all the wires coming off my head.

I of course still had my hair

I was completely exhausted when I arrived at the sleep clinic, and so of course I assumed I would have no problem falling asleep in the nice big bed I was going to have all to myself, in the nice dark and quiet room I would also have all to myself. Yeah, not so much. The mass of wires attached to not only my head, but my face and legs as well, was less than easy to sleep with. There was a nose piece in my nose that had another piece hanging from in case I began breathing through my mouth. It kept stabbing my upper lip. The tangling and rolling over and the leds poking me in my face, not so comfortable. I think I finally managed to fall a sleep around midnight only to wake up and become horribly antsy at 1 am.  My legs were spazing out. I couldn't get comfortable, I was about to freak the hell out when I decided it might help if I went to the bathroom.  That of course was no small task. And something I needed help doing.  I lay still in the dark room and timidly called out to my Sleep Tech, "Hello????"
Over the intercom she answers, "Do you need to use the restroom?"
"yes" I responded feeling foolish.
She came to my room and unhooked the mass of wires from the main thing they were plugged into, and slung the mini board around my neck.  Going to the restroom? Not at all graceful. I had wires down my sleep shorts which were connected to my legs, I had all the others from my head and face slung around my neck and an oxygen monitor on one of my fingers. AWK.WARD.
I shuffled back into the room where the Sleep Tech was waiting for me. "I'm going to put the C-PAP mask on you now."

His is too big for his face, but yeah

The head straps there went under all the wires that were coming out of my head.  It forces air in. Making it harder for you to stop breathing.  I thought I might need the full face mask:



This one covers your nose AND your mouth, talk about Darth Vader

 Did I mention that I had taken a sleeping pill after the Sleep Tech tucked me in the first time? Well I did. And then a mere 4 hrs later I took another half of a sleeping pill.  If was after that half that sleep FINALLY over took me. I was zonked out. At 6 AM my Sleep Tech came woke me via intercom. I was so incredibly out of it, I had to use  my GPS to drive to my mom's. A route I take on a DAILY BASIS.  My plan was to maybe nap for an hour or so and then get ready for work. I slept really hard for 2 hours. When I emerged from my old bedroom my mom looked at me and proclaimed, "You look SO MUCH better than when you got here!!!"
Thanks mom.
So, talk about sexy eh?? You know you want one of these too!

Well at least after I get this contraption F and I can sleep in the same room again. ALL NIGHT instead of just part of the night.

YAY BABY.

Sandman VS Darth Vader Mask

F complains about my snoring. He says it has gotten worse in the last year. In the last few months it has become common place for him to stumble off to the guest bedroom to sleep. Needless to say, I try and keep that bed made up, j.i.c. I haven’t been sleeping well either. I chalked this up to the fact that I was trying not to disturb him, and hence became a light sleeper. On my annual visit to my Dr., she asked if I needed any refills on any of the meds from last year. I told her the one that was suppose to make me sleep didn’t work (it was for depression, um, no), she gave me an actual sleeping pill. But first she asked me one simple question, “Does he say you ever quit breathing while asleep?” I looked at her dumbfounded. This had never occurred to me. And F had never mentioned it. When I got home that evening, I asked him, “Oh Yeah. ALL. THE. TIME.”


Seriously??? I quit breathing ALL. THE. TIME. And he NEVER mentions it??

“Well, it’s more like a; pause.”

DUDE. Not cool.

The Dr. signed me up for an at home sleep study. I received one of those oxygen nose pieces, which attached to a beeper looking thing. I popped one of my new found sleeping pills (SWEET) and proceeded to sleep. A few times the nose piece came out of one side of my nose, but if I woke up, I just shoved it back in and went back to sleep. I turned it in the next day. The following day; a Friday, the sleep center called me, to set up an onsite appointment. I didn’t call them back right away. Then my Dr.’s office called. I didn’t call them back either. The weekend passed and I slept pretty crappily, as did F. Monday morning, my Dr.’s office called me AGAIN to tell me I needed to make an appointment, ASAP. Apparently the data collected said I pretty much didn’t breath at all during the night, go figure. I did tell the lady who collected the little sleeper beeper that I tend to sleep with my mouth open, and so I think that might be part of the issue. I could be wrong. Anyway, the same lady cheerfully told me that they had a cancellation for THAT NIGHT and could I make it. Stunned, I agreed. I packed up my 2 piece sleep gear (t-shirt and shorts), my “portable” CD player and headphones with fresh batteries, my pillow; the Dr. prescribed sleep pills, and a fan, just in case it got too hot in there. From 9PM to 5 freaking 30 AM the next morning, I would be trapped in a “room” away from home.

How do they really expect anyone to really sleep during these things anyway? Telling me I HAVE TO SLEEP is like telling me I can’t have a cookie, or something to drink, because then you just know you HAVE TO HAVE IT. I guess I mean, this means I won’t sleep because I HAVE TO SLEEP. And the lady said my Dr. ordered 2 tests to be done, but most times things don’t work out that way, so people end up having to go back for the second half.

Excellent.

Stop Eyin' (Eyein') Me....

I do not care for seafood. This is a long standing dislike. Goes back many a years to a childhood fraught with 40 Fridays of Fish sticks. I'm talkin about Lent y'all. Yes, mom would swap Fish stick Friday with Spaghetti Friday, but nothing could wipe out the horror that is the fish stick.  Recently, when F and I went to Boston for a job interview,(him, which he didn't get, BOSTON damn it) he was in pure heaven, while I roasted in hell simply so he could enjoy some seafood. The hotel suggested a place down the street that was very popular with the locals. It was in a strip mall. Anyhoodle, my olfactory sense triggered a massive gag reflex when F opened the door.  I cringed, my face scrunched up in that "oh! gross smell!!!!!!!" look as my eyes fell upon a sea food DELI. A strip mall fish market.  F pushed me through the connecting door none too soon as I held my breath. The smell wasn't nearly as strong on the restaurant side.  But it is not just the smell my digital friends that sends me in to convulsions. The look gets me too. I cannot stand to have my food look back at me. AT ALL. EVER. It grosses me the hell out. So you can imagine how I felt when I opened an e-mail from a local Mediterranean restaurant and saw this STARING back at me. I gag just thinking about it!

THOSE EYES!!! Seriously. COOKED EYES.

GAG GAG GAG GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG.

Mike Holmes, Where ARE You??

F and I have been in a corkscrew of never ending home improvement jobs. Something that should be a simple, weekend-ish projects have turned into MONTHS long frustration. A simple ceiling fan insulation has become a bit of a nightmare. Simply cut a hole, install the bracing, install the fan box, patch hole, sand, and paint. All that was accomplished, with only minor irritation. The problem exploded when my mom and I started to paint. The first coat of primer, Sherwin Williams, went on like butter.  We took a break, had some lunch, left the large floor fan directed at the ceiling, running for about an hour and half. I started the second coat of primer on the ceiling when bubbles in the paint started to appear. A few we popped, a few we left alone to shrink back up. When I started the second coat of paint, all hell had broke lose in the form of mass bubbling.  We quit. I cried. My mom went home. F raged.
Then he tried to sand out the bubbles, and the paint started peeling off in SHEETS.  Right back down to the drywall. 3/4 of the ceiling peeled down to drywall. We called in some people who informed us that we had a moisture issue. When they put on the addition, they didn't properly vent it. On top of that, we found that our roof ridge vent, which is to run the entire length of your roof peak, has a 3 foot GAP in the middle. W.T.F? These issues are beyond F's and my know-how, so we had to hire someone. I can I tell you, that hiring a contractor after watching Holmes on Homes is near to impossible.  Every one of those shows starts out with the homeowner saying how they did their homework. Ask for references, called people, and the guy seemed on the up and up and then WHAM they get left in the dead of winter without a roof and electricity. This was my fear. That we'd pay out all this money and still have an issue on our hands. And for what a small job it was, there was no way in the world that I could hope to get Mike Holmes in to fix it.  We hired a guy to tear out and install new insulation and drywall in the ceiling in the dining room and new drywall and insulation in the half bath, where it was discovered that one of the previous homeowners painted DIRECTLY over the wallpaper. Please, PLEASE don't ever do that, it is all kinds of wrong and will end up with who ever owns the house after you, cursing your name. Trust me on this.  Our contractor showed up, on time, and from what my mother says, who was contractor sitting, worked like a mad man.  After the job was suppose to be done, I, with all my Holmes Knowledge, do an inspection. "Um, F? I can still see the drywall tape, like, everywhere. I don't think you're suppose to be able to see it." And so began another round with the contractor. Who insisted that if he covered it up, it would be a bump and something about the walls sloping or something, I don't know. I just know that after several more weeks of me saying, "I can still see the tape." F and the contractor were ready to kill me, and then each other.  Also, one of the seams cracked, all the way across the room. F had a fit. I began to wonder just how much damage had to be done before I could get Holmes on the job. The contractor fixed the crack, and we've come to some sort of peace agreement. I'm getting ready to start painting. 
So help me, if that drywall tape starts to come up, there will be all kinds of hell to pay. And you all will have to send me some Valium.

I Am So Easily Tortured

I hate needles. I hate getting shots. I hate getting blood taken.
Therefore, when the barely legal lab tech says to me: "Which arm do they use when they take your blood?"
Me: "The right."
B.L. Lab Tech: "Hmmm. Do they have an easy time?"
Me: "Yes." as my arm yelps in pain from the tourniquet.
B.L. Lab Tech: "Do they ever use your left arm?"
Me: *start to panic* "Some times. But they usually use the right arm."

B.L. Lab Tech keeps pressing on my veins in my right arm. I try to breath deeply so I don't freak the hell out.

B.L. Lab Tech: "So they use the right and have an easy time of it?"
Me: "Yes." my right arm is screaming in protest now from the tourniquet. I think my skin started to separate at the contact point.

B.L. Lab Tech: "Well, I can feel two veins here, I just don't know which one to use! *giggles*
Me: *hyper ventilating* "Really???!!!"  I restrain from yelling at another nurse to come save me as she passes by in the hall.

B.L. Lab Tech: "Well, I guess we'll try this one."

Sweet Jesus, did she just say GUESS and TRY when talking about needles and veins?!?!!
I close my eyes tightly, because you know if you can't see it happening, it isn't happening, as she finally sticks the needle in my arm.
B.L. Lab Tech: "Got it!" (i think she sounded surprised.)
Me: *moments from clawing my way out of the chair* "Oh, good."
My right arm cries out in relief as she unties the tourniquet.

As much as I like to think I can Jack Bauer my way through torture, I'd never last a second if they brought out the needles.

All I Ask.....

I have to know, really I do. Is it REALLY that difficult to drive the speed limit? Is it? I'm not asking you to speed. I'm simply asking you to do the posted speed limit.
Not 10 miles under the speed limit.  Not 35 in a 45 during rush hour. Just, 45, maybe 50. Really, please? Could you at least???

Thanks.

Slow Spiral

For several months now I’ve been feeling down. I’m having a hard time finding anything to be happy about, or that I like. It started by hating my hair. Well, actually, it probably started before that. Back when, well, we found out some not so good news. My spiral started then. I’ve been wrestling with what, if anything I wanted to share here. One day, when the bad news was more than I could take, I started an entry, of sorts, that bullet pointed my experiences and feelings. I’m still not ready to share, here. Yet. But, having put it down, having it out of my head so to speak, I’m able to concentrate. I’ve been adding bullets as things happen.

Today, though, today, I just, *sigh* I just need to vent, maybe? Get things out so I can start moving past them. So please bear with me and my pity party of one.

Yes, I still hate my hair. Even though I realize that it is just not my hair, it is what my hair is sitting on top of. My head? Well yes, in a board sense, but more, my FACE. I hate my face right now. More specifically I hate how fat it is. I pass by a mirror and am shocked, Who’s the piggy? Who’s the old angry Polish woman? (I’m polish, so I can be stereotypical about my own people, right?) My double chin is double what it used to be. My skin looks horrid. Spots, break outs, wrinkles, plain old dull. My upper arms are doughy and soft, and BIG. I don’t think I’ve had wrists since I’ve meet F. I have the wrist version of cankles. Frists? I don’t know. My stomach. Lord. The bulge. The MOUND of fat. Thunder thighs? Check and check. CANKLES, sweet heaven above, I have cankles. And sausage fingers. I have fat people fingers.

My sugar is up, as is well, EVERYTHING that should be down.

I know, eat less, and move more. It is all under my control. I GET IT. And I have been trying, but I haven’t been trying as much as I should. And the weird thing? The weird thing is, is that food doesn’t sound good to me anymore, so I hardly eat, but I’m not really losing weight. Sometimes I’m not even hungry. Sometimes, the mere mention of a certain food makes me gag. Sometimes it is the smell. The other night F made chicken and I swore it smelled like fish. I could barely bring myself to eat it. Other times I get so hungry I get ill. Everything is, OFF, and I’m at a loss as to how to correct it. There are days when getting out of bed is such a challenge. If I could just sleep for a few more hours, everything would be fine. Socializing? Who wants to be bothered with that? It is too much work.

I see, I know what it is, DEPRESSION. I’ve had bouts of it before, who hasn’t? But I’ve always managed to pull myself out of it. I’ve always managed to put it behind me and move on. Nowadays I feel like I’m treading water, I’m not going anywhere. And it all starts all over again, the spiral. The sleeplessness, the over tiredness, the flat out apathy of everyday, day after day. I’m boxed in and I don’t know how to get out.

If just, IF JUST……yes, IF JUST….then it would all be better, maybe. Right? MAYBE.

*sigh*

Oh, the evils and joys of chocolate and salt

Crack in a candy coating.

Need I say more?

Order UP!!

Last night 7 PM: F arrives home after going grocery shopping by himself. He sets the bag on the counter and goes about his business.

10 PM: I follow him to bed.

8AM THIS MORNING: F calls me from work: "Hey, did you put away that meat I bought last night?"

Me: "I didn't know you bought any meat."

F: "So, that means it is still sitting out on the counter?"

Me: "Uh, yeah, if you didn't put it away."

F: "Can you turn around and go back to the house to put it away?"

Me: "After it sat out OVER NIGHT????!!!!"

F: "Yeah, it'll be fine."

Me: "Are you sure??? I don't think it will still be good."

F: "Yes, please, go put it away."

Me: "ok."

Needless to say, I won't be having a deli sandwich any time soon for lunch. uh, gag. That is just asking to get sick. Not that it was overtly warm or hot in our house, but the temp didn't drop below 72 all night. I'm making myself sick visualizing all the germs and slimy things on that meat now.

*shiver*

We've got Fievel

We have a mouse situation in our office currently. Over the last few weeks there have been several sightings. There have, in fact, been a few captures. Three to be exact. One of the women in another office group was apparently VERY concerned about the well being of said mice once they were captives. Being a fair and humane person, the Building Manager gave them “live traps” to place about their office space. Once the traps were set, the concerned woman saw to it that there was not only food placed inside the trap, but ALSO WATER, just in case they didn’t reach the trapped mouse quickly. Yes, that’s right; the trap was stocked with food and water. GITMO has nothing on us. It is believed that it is a Mouse (mice?) Family and that the 3 that were captured and released “back into the wild” were the older, or shall I say, Elder Mice. Apparently, one mouse was not so lucky, as he/she was found dead. The remaining mouse, we assume there is only one left, has been creating quite a stir today. Darting across cubicle floors, slipping under cubicle walls, creating all out panic amongst the open-toed shod. The mouse’s activities have resulted in two excited shouts (from those who saw it) and one cubicle entry way blockade by the neighbor of the witness. This isn't the first time we've had mice issues. Several years back, all our snacks were getting nibbled. That offender's life was inadvertently cut short by an almost empty pot of hot coffee that was emptied into the sink said offender was hanging out in. Our office has been a bit of a wild kingdom over the years. During its first few days in our ownership; we harbored two very smelly wet dogs from a thunderstorm. This seemed to set the trend with our outdoor brethren, that we were kind and gentle folk. The dogs became cats that lived out by the trash bin. The cats became bats that slept in office trash cans. The bats turned into birds that got caught between the walls while trying to spy on the snake that lived there as well. Do you have any idea how nerve wracking it can be to hear a bird flapping frantically behind the wall? NEVER MORE comes to mind.


We also seem to be the Mecca for bees and hornets and wasps. I was actually stung by one (one what, we’re not sure) that landed on my neck while I was talking to a friend out in the atrium. Our patio picnic tables draw bees, hornets, and wasps as though we coat them in honey and pollen. Were we chased from both tables today by the hovering bees that were unable to return home because my tush was blocking their entry.

After the events of the day, the Building Manager swore us to secrecy when she told us she’d be going out and purchasing “REAL TRAPS” to do away with the remaining baby mouse. There will be no supply stocking of this trap, outside of the peanut butter laden trigger.

Let the hunt begin.

Look With Your Eyes

F comes upstairs and starts looking around the family room. He looks on the table. He looks on the couch. He picks up his laptop and looks at it. He places said laptop on the couch. He looks on the floor. He looks on the table again. He looks behind the couch. He picks up the camera and puts it back down.
I watch silently.
The puzzled look on his face grows as he picks up his laptop again.
Me: "What are you looking for?"
F: "The data cord for the camera." he says as he motions towards the camera that is now back on the couch.
He picks up his laptop again and looks at it puzzled and then tosses it back on the couch.
Me: " You mean the data cord that is attached to the laptop you just had in your hand?"
F: "Wha? Oh, um, yeah."
Me: "Emhmmm."

Seriously guys, LOOK WITH YOUR EYES.

When Your Stomach Drops to Your Shoes

The Tenant called. I waited for F to start swearing. It rarely feels that any time Tenant calls, it is something good. This time was no different, however, F didn't swear.
 The night before a lovely high heat, high humidity day, the A/C goes out.
The hard ass in me comes out, "You know, we DON'T HAVE to provide him with a/c."
F just stares at me, then walks away.
OK, so yes, maybe we DO have to provide him with a/c, even though that's no where stated in the contract. My point is, I hate being a landlord. It seems that every time F and I plan something that requires us to spend money, something at the Rental goes awry. This time? Replacing the ceiling in the 3rd bedroom that is frontin' as our dining room. That in itself is a story. 4 coats of paint bubbled and peeled off like pulling a sticky note off your desk. All my hard work, undone. Everyone we spoke to was baffled. Except Eldest Sister. "Sounds like moisture to me, a ventilation issue." Ah, her environmental engineering degree finally comes in handy. All 3 of the contractors we had come in to look said the same thing. So there goes $850. Plus whatever is wrong with the A/C that we are having professionals look at.(Tenant still has not called them, so he is still without a/c. His own doing.) Not the guy F knows who took 5 days to fix our A/C in 90+ degree weather. Yet another story.  Anyway, every time Tenant calls I dread what I'm about to hear. My stomach drops to my shoes. I love my old house, I really do, but like many people in the good ole' USA, I'm "under water" on it. And there is no way Tenant, who filed for bankruptcy in the past, is going to be able to get a loan for any amount that would come close to paying it off.  *sigh*
I guess the good thing is he wants to sign on for another year, however, with the clause that if he buys a house he can break the lease without penalty. My thought on this is, what if he just wants to break the lease and is just SAYING he's buying a house? Can I force him to prove that he's buying a house in order to break the lease? I just don't know these things. I am a lazy landlord. I am a lazy landlord because I don't want to BE a landlord.  I hate the feeling I get when Tenant calls. The overwhelming dread. The worry about how we are going to cover whatever expense is going to come up this time. The tense between F and I over it. We need to sell it, and be done with it, but in today's market? Um, yeah.

Any suggestions?

Eve is Lookin a Little Too Much Like Adam.....

Somehow, me thinks this bathing suit is on the wrong mannequin.

I'm just sayin.........

Zappos, or more likely Nike, you may want to look into this.

Dessert Fairy, Stricks Again

Around 3pm the other day, F calls to inquiry if I would like some cupcakes. I said SURE!

I think we all know where this is going....................

Yep, another uncovered dessert.

This time however, they had sat out since 2ish. F got home shortly after 7pm. It always amazes me that badly contained desserts make it through the ride home.

And yet, surprisingly, they were still moist 2 days later when I finally got around to eating them. (I'VE BEEN BUSY.yes, too busy for chocolate, feel my pain.)  Mind you of course, I'd covered them with plastic wrap. Over tooth picks so the frosting wouldn't stick.

Wait, what did you say?

E-mail I sent F:
09:10 AM
i have no idea where my cell phone is.

(we send each other e-mails when we forget our phones at home or couldn't find them before we left for work so the other person doesn't freak out when their calls go unanswered)

F's response:
9:11 AM
 nice... when did you have it last?

Me:
9:15 AM
yesterday.


Silence ensued for several hours there after until he sent me an e-mail in answer to a question about our evening plans:

F:
1:02 PM
no need to go and it doesn't start till 10 anyways so we wont be home till midnight... answer my text (we are old and must be in bed before midnight. what can i say.)

Me:
1:18 PM
Dude, do you not remember the e-mail I sent you this morning????????????
(yes, I am decidedly over 30 and still say DUDE. I can't quit it!)

Then at 4:30pm he calls me, at work:

F: "HAHAHAHA DH, I know you left your cell at home, but I keep calling it!!"

*insert eye roll and head shake here*

Open Letter

Dear Mother Nature,

Pray tell, was it really necessary to open up the heavens in Noah's Ark proportions and rain DIRECTLY into my window whilst I was trying to order my lunch? I had to open my umbrella in my car and I still got soaked. Yes, you read that right, I had my UMBRELLA opened in MY CAR.
There are so many things wrong with that.
 Including what you did to my pants and the inside of my car.

My pant leg. Yes, that pinkish color IS MY LEG showing through the light tan Capri's I had on.

My driver's side door. The light color is the dry bits.

There was standing water in the little hand hold hole there. Yeah.

Please refrain from raining INTO my window while ordering my lunch. It is bad manners.

Just the Facts Ma'am

Recently, I celebrated my 36th Birthday. F asked me a month in advance what I wanted for said birthday. At the time, I was at a complete loss because my birthday was far removed from the current things on my mind. However, feeling the mostly ever present muscle ache in my lower back/hip, I requested a massage. About a week later he requested a longer list from which to choose. Again, my mind was elsewhere, I was unable to lengthen the list. (scary, i know) Life went on and I forgot my birthday pretty much altogether.  Several nights before my birthday, after being in bed for sometime, silence had settled upon on us. It had been quiet for what seemed to me a good 15 to 20 minutes. Out of the dark F queries, "So, do I have to get you a present?"
Somehow, I knew exactly what he was getting at, "Um, YES."
F: "Do I REALLY??"
Me: *sigh* "Of course!"
F: "Can't I just get you a card?"
Me: "F. Stop."
F: "Do you remember what you asked for?"
Me: "Yes."
F: "Well, I got it for you. So you can make a day out of it with SES since it is over by her house and she's actually got it."
Me: "Um, Ok?"
F: "Yep."
Me: "Thanks."
F: "Do I still have to get you a card?"
Me: "It would be nice."
F: *sigh*

Things.....

I Did While Away on a Long Weekend.......

1)Left the sliding glass door unlocked.
   -Who knows how long it was unlocked before we actually left, for FOUR days. Needless to say no one came in and relieved us of our 15 yr old non-flat screen TV, or the slow as molasses lap top.

2) Lost $100 in CASH.
    - F placed the $100 bucks he took out down my shirt. (classy, I know) I in turn completely forgot about it and I assume it fell out when we got out of the car for lunch.
Now if he had placed it in my BRA, well, that money would never have been lost, that's for damn sure.

3) Rediscovered my calves.
    - Walking along a sandy beach really brings it home just how out of shape you REALLY are. The 100yards from where we set up our chairs to the stairs to the elevator, had me huffing like a mad woman.  My calves are still pissed at me so I've been hobbling about like I'm 80 yrs old. Turning 36 did not help.
4) Got horribly burned DESPITE the sun block I had on.
    -Granted it was only SPF 4, but still, I had applied it after swimming and damned if my chest and upper thighs aren't glaringly red. F likes to poke my burn and say, "Does it hurt??? I've never been sunburned before, you white woman."

One Click Only Please

Dear BING! search engine,

Um, I hate you. I click on one link and instead of going directly to the story indicated it takes me to your search engine where there are 20 billion links for the same story from 20 billion different sources. I do not care for this at all. Please just take me to the story you indicated so that I may read it, and possibly share it via my Face Book page. If I want to do further research at a later date I will, but being forced to hunt and pick through all the listings is NOT COOL.

Please rectify this immediately.

Sincerely,
DH