<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531</id><updated>2011-09-28T18:47:13.828-04:00</updated><category term='shut your trap'/><category term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><category term='WTF?'/><category term='RTT'/><category term='life&apos;s a bitch and then you die'/><title type='text'>I'm a Donkey On The Edge</title><subtitle type='html'>Now give me some wine and no one gets hurt. See how this Yankee acclimates herself to the entirely different planet called "The South" with her redneck.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-5040437590265227655</id><published>2011-02-16T07:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T07:44:11.225-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RTT'/><title type='text'>One of These Days I'll Figure Out When Tuesday Is. Maybe.</title><content type='html'>It's Random Tuesday Thoughts again. Well, yesterday was. I seem to be a day behind anymore. &amp;nbsp;Now grab the button and play along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/" mce_href="http://www.theunmom.com"&gt;&lt;img alt="randomtuesday" mce_src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What, you don't like the ugly purple thing. Too bad. Play anyway. Or maybe next week. Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a big surprise. I can't share it just yet. But I will as soon as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't ya just love it when someone does that to you? Me? I hate it. So I'm doing it to you for now. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MM hours just got cut. He had three runs a week. One ok one and two good ones. The two good ones are gone, replaced by one ok one. This will probably cut his paycheck in half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have discovered that people in the south will NOT hire folks from the north. That is the only explanation I can think of that a person like me with a solid career history and job qualifications and education &lt;i&gt;still&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;cannot find a job. I mean, no one even calls. I guess I'll stay home and wait on the job that neverwas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made cinnamon rolls last night. And a failed batch of home made garlic bread. And a cake. That's part of why I didn't post yesterday. I was slaving away in the kitchen. Don't you wish you were so handy in the kitchen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to actually do more baking and cooking today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather here has been absolutely beautiful. I am so happy. It's almost like spring. I won't say it is spring cuz then we'll get a foot of snow or some ice or something. So I'll just say it's been nice and I appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now go on over to&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/the-un-mom/2011/2/15/possibly-barbie-didnt-like-ken-stealing-her-jeans-random-tue.html"&gt; Keely's&lt;/a&gt; and check out the rest of the randomers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-5040437590265227655?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/5040437590265227655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2011/02/one-of-these-days-ill-figure-out-when.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5040437590265227655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5040437590265227655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2011/02/one-of-these-days-ill-figure-out-when.html' title='One of These Days I&apos;ll Figure Out When Tuesday Is. Maybe.'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-4298641929213900366</id><published>2011-02-02T19:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T19:35:55.040-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch and then you die'/><title type='text'>Random Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Whatever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/" mce_href="http://www.theunmom.com"&gt;&lt;img alt="randomtuesday" mce_src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's random Tuesday. Well, it's actually Wednesday, but at least I'm trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does it seem like when the shit starts flowing your direction, it doesn't stop? Just how much does one person have to try to deal with at once?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had thunderstorms last night. It is February. Did the weather forget what time of year it is? I thought that was a spring time event. Not a winter event. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pleased it was thunderstorms last night instead of all the awful snow and ice that like half the nation got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister lost her power yesterday. She had to go to my mom's house to keep her and the kids warm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired. I've been tired all day. I went to the grocery store yesterday and cleaned house, and today I've done laundry. I am wiped out and I don't know why. Unless it's all the aforementioned shit that is weighing on my mind and wiping me out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for today. Go check out &lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;Keely&lt;/a&gt; for more random.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-4298641929213900366?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/4298641929213900366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2011/02/its-random-tuesday.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/4298641929213900366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/4298641929213900366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2011/02/its-random-tuesday.html' title='Random Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Whatever.'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-3309651814610687910</id><published>2011-01-20T22:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T22:43:34.513-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>Promises That I Probably Won't Keep</title><content type='html'>Most people make New Years' Resolutions. I did not make any this year. Know why? Cuz just like everyone else on the planet, I never keep them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year on NYE, I was in bed by 11 pm because I had to get up early the next morning. At 6 am. That's like torture. The sun is not even up then. I'm not supposed to be up then either. It's not natural. Sorry for those of you who get up that early. I used to. But now that I'm a happily kept woman, I don't have to except when I go see my son. And that weekend I went to see my son. And I was all alone, because MM was at work. So I brought in the new year by going to bed early, with no man in my bed, and no resolutions to make. It makes it much easier to start the new year when you know you aren't going to let yourself down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do hope to better keep up with my blog though. I don't know how much I will post on the other one because, let's face it, there's only so many posts of "had a great visit with my son" type of posts that people want to read. However, life with MM has been interesting on a daily basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, the other night after some of the Awesome Sex, MM decided he was thirsty. He came back into the bedroom with a Mt. Dew. Of course it came out of the fridge. He decided to stick it on my back. After me being all satisfied and stuff. Well he couldn't just try to stick that cold ass can on my back once. He had to do it more than once. Like a zillion times. I was wiggling all around trying to keep that can off my back. I flung my hand around my back to ward off an attack. Suddenly, Mt. Dew is spraying EVERYWHERE! And I do mean everywhere. Being as we were still naked, washing it off us wasn't so hard, but it was all over the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, the walls, the curtains, the carpet, and even the t.v. halfway across the room. Apparently when I flung my hand around, I caught my ring on the can and ripped a hole in it. Who'd-a thunk it? It's not like it's a monster sized ring. It's just a regular size.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after having some late night, cuddle before you sleep type satisfying sex, we had to get up and clean the entire bedroom. Oh, but it doesn't end there....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were cleaning up the room is when I realized that the tv had been sprayed as well. I grabbed my sweatshirt that was laying on the floor to wipe the drops off the screen. Then what do I do? Wellll, so glad you asked. I made another mess. I have a couple of candles on top of the tv. One is a small vase with blue pebbles (you know the ones that go in the bottom of the fish tank), and has a tealight in the vase on top of the pebbles. Yeah, I dumped it off the back of the t.v. So now not only do we have drying Mt. Dew all over the bedroom, we now have little blue pebbles all over the place. I did the only thing I could do. I left it there. I walked away and left the mess. I wanted a cigarette. I went out to the living room as we don't smoke in the bedroom. I sat my ass down in the rocking chair and lit my cigarette. At one point when I went to flick my ashes in the ash tray, I knocked my hand into the can of Diet Pepsi and knocked it over. Fortunately, I did catch the can before it tipped all the way over. It did not spill, but made me figure I should go to bed before I spilled the can or the ashtray. I smashed out my cigarette. I went to the bedroom and crawled into bed. I decided that i needed the end the day before I did something else to make a mess. It worked. I didn't make any more messes that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You ever have one of those days that you make mess after mess, but you can't help but laughing? At least we can keep laughing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-3309651814610687910?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/3309651814610687910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2011/01/promises-that-i-probably-wont-keep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/3309651814610687910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/3309651814610687910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2011/01/promises-that-i-probably-wont-keep.html' title='Promises That I Probably Won&apos;t Keep'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-5926993443094682808</id><published>2010-11-25T21:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T21:37:22.640-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WTF?'/><title type='text'>Not Your Traditional Thanksgiving Post</title><content type='html'>Instead of stating all the things I am thankful for today, I am going to post about the things that piss me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do the stores have to be open today? Why do they have to make all those poor employees work instead of allowing those store clerks to home with their family?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it with the spoiled brats that are masqueraded as children these days? Is it the parents fault only or is it the parents and media combined? I know that it is the sense of entitlement that most people have these days, but come on you little shitholes, behave and be happy for what you have instead of wanting more, more, more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a show on tv the other day and it made my skin crawl and made me get super stabby. The show was about these women that had lots of kids, at least four, sometimes as many as eight. And the women on the show were all bitching and moaning because they had all boys. The poor little bitchy princesses wanted to have a little baby princess. WTF? What happened to thinking that every child was a blessing? What happened to just being happy you could &lt;i&gt;have&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;kids? What happened to just being happy that you had your children in your life every day? What is wrong with those women that they got depressed to the point of causing unrepairable damage to their marriages because the poor husbands Y chromosome spermies were the only ones that got there. And the poor boys that felt that they weren't good enough because they had the misfortune of being born male? What mega-bitches. Get over yourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does cat shit smell so bad? Scratch that. Why does the male cat shit smell so bad? My girlie cat can take a shit and I don't smell it while I'm sitting in the living room. When one of the boy-o cats takes a shit, the whole place stinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about you? What gets under your skin on this thankful day?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-5926993443094682808?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/5926993443094682808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/not-your-traditional-thanksgiving-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5926993443094682808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5926993443094682808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/not-your-traditional-thanksgiving-post.html' title='Not Your Traditional Thanksgiving Post'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-8735649910291018817</id><published>2010-11-23T23:52:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T23:52:25.759-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RTT'/><title type='text'>Randomness Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/" mce_href="http://www.theunmom.com"&gt;&lt;img alt="randomtuesday" mce_src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;It's Random Tuesday and I have not done this in a long time. Head on over to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/the-un-mom/2010/11/23/i-have-sweet-caroline-in-my-head-hows-that-for-random-random.html"&gt;Keely's&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;to get the rest of the randomness.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Here goes with my crazy randomness. I hope no guys are reading this, it may be TMI, even for women. Be prepared.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I hate PMS. I get it worse every single month. Except the past two months. I get it worse every two weeks. WTF is up with that? I don't need a bout of PMS and another period. I just had one a little over two weeks ago. &amp;nbsp;And two weeks before that. And about three weeks before that. I know some of it was stress over my hearing, but,&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;seriously&lt;/i&gt;, do I really need another one just because the holidays are upon us? Dear body, I know that in years gone past, you thought that I needed a period every year on Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I just had one. Or more. So let it go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;My boobies hurt like nobody's business. My abdomen hurts right behind and below my belly button. I have been constipated and gassy like something is rotting in there. I have had a headache every day for the last three days. WTF. I am ready for this period to start. I'd rather bleed than have more PMS right now.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I also keep crying. Over stupid shit. (See PMS.) Then laughing hysterically the next thing as Mail Man tries cheering me up. So, I am laughing through my tears. That's how it's supposed to be though, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;My cat shit on the bathroom floor. Well, on the rug actually. We usually don't let them into the bedroom, but I was really tired today so I decided to take a nap and let the kitties lay down with me. Instead, one comes in, shits on the rug and none of them laid down with me. Shitheads. See if I let them in again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I have eaten an insane amount of food lately. I am starving. I don't have specific cravings. It's more of a "everything sounds good' and eat all day sort of thing. So much so, that last night when we went to bed, I thought I was going to throw up because my stomach was so full. I have the pea brain of a dog. Don't stop eating when you are full, stop eating when there is no food left. I'm a retard lately. (Please don't take that as a disrespect. I'm just saying my brain is not functioning this week.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I'm reading a Dean Koontz book right now. It is the fourth book in his Odd Thomas series. I have read it before, but don't have any of his new books yet, so I am stuck reading the ones I already have. I heart DK books.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I made some vegetable soup that was full of Awesome. Let me tell you. I could eat the whole crock pot. And I tried. Until I thought I was going to be sick again. So I actually did stop eating. See, not entirely brain dead yet.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;MM and I had a fun day yesterday. I miss him when he's gone. I also miss the sexy. I need the sexy. Especially right now. I'm thinking it may be related to the aforementioned PMS.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I found that Charmed is on tv on our cable service every night at six and seven. I am in love with our cable now. I love Charmed.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I also love NCIS.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Gotta go. I need some chocolate. Or anything. I'm hungry again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Go visit&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/the-un-mom/2010/11/23/i-have-sweet-caroline-in-my-head-hows-that-for-random-random.html"&gt;Keely&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and all her friends who are feeling random today&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-8735649910291018817?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/8735649910291018817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/randomness-today.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/8735649910291018817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/8735649910291018817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/randomness-today.html' title='Randomness Today'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-3064875066638630854</id><published>2010-11-14T12:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T12:46:26.302-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>I Suck</title><content type='html'>Apparently bowling is still not my strong suit. I did manage one strike out of the three games and two spares. Some of the time I was happy just to not have a gutter ball! Even the kids beat my score! Of course, they had this fabulous thing that they could put the ball on and just push it off so it would roll down the lane. And they had the little bumper things so that they could not get gutter balls. And they lost interest after the first game. There were some arcade games there that were all shiny and beepy and lit up and noisy. They were much more exciting than waiting your turn to roll the ball down the lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;But I did not fall down. I came close one time, but managed to keep my balance. I was so proud of myself. In fact, two of the little kids fell down, but I am proud to say I had more grace than the three and five year old. That is quite the accomplishment in my book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a pretty good time. The pizza was good and the bowling was fun. I just wish that Mail Man could have been there. I went with some friends of mine (a couple) and a couple that they are friends with. Fortunately, I did not feel like a fifth wheel. Everyone was really nice. It just would have been more fun if I had been part of a couple as well. Then I would have had someone to kiss when I made my strike! I'll just have to kiss him when he gets home. I'm pretty sure Mail Man will be ok with that. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also had no idea just how expensive bowling has become. I don't remember exactly what it cost to bowl 15 years ago, but I was broke as a joke back then, so if we could all afford to bowl, it had to be cheap. I do remember that it cost more to eat than to bowl. Of course the alcohol cost more than the bowling, but what fun to bowl and drink at the same time. It makes the challenge of not gutter balling (hee hee, that just sounds naughty) all that much more fun. Alas, no alcohol last night. Sadly, it was still a challenge to keep my balls out of the gutter! (There's that naughtiness again!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what fun things did you get up to this wonderful weekend?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-3064875066638630854?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/3064875066638630854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-suck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/3064875066638630854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/3064875066638630854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-suck.html' title='I Suck'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-5962055579260562358</id><published>2010-11-13T15:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T15:03:25.095-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch and then you die'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, Mail Man has been wonderful to me these past few days. I don't know that I could have made it through without him. My mom came for the hearing, stayed for the visit, but obviously had to go back home. He calls and checks on me, sends me texts, and just generally has been the support that I have needed recently. I am so thankful that I have him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also thankful that we found some good friends down here in Hickville. They have conspired with Mail Man to get me out of the house while Mail Man is at work, so I don't have to sit at home by myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also hasn't picked his nose or anything like that. Gosh, such stellar behavior from him. No phleghm (that is&amp;nbsp;such a strange word, to say and to spell)&amp;nbsp;coming my way. Even though with the heat on at night we are both still waking up stuffy. I think it's just about time to get out the humidifier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have time for a long post today. They are taking my for pizza and bowling. It has been about 15 years or so since I bowled last. We shall see just how awful I still am. I will update soon to let you all know if I am just as graceless as I used to be! I can trip over some dust and am just not all that coordinated, so bowling was always a bit of a challenge for me. But what better way to get over feeling bad, than to go make a fool out of myself? It should be fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's hoping life is treating you well. (Lifts my&amp;nbsp;glass to you.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-5962055579260562358?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/5962055579260562358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/well-mail-man-has-been-wonderful-to-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5962055579260562358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5962055579260562358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/11/well-mail-man-has-been-wonderful-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-7964113216890916801</id><published>2010-10-14T22:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T22:56:55.944-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>Recovering Economy and Phlegm</title><content type='html'>Whoever said the economy is improving is on crack. I have some highly marketable skills on my resume, but in six months have not had a single job lead. Well, I had an interview, but they "added" duties to the job that are not duties that I am interested in. More accurately, I am interested in my safety and the "added" duties could seriously jeopardize my safety. So no job. I have been submitting applications for six months, and quite intensively for the last couple. Not so much as a bite. BUT, the economy is swell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, an income from me is not needed. It would be nice, and would really help my case, but I am looking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could get a job at a gas station or something like that, but not sure that would help me much either. Plus, we are down to just my car. Mail Man's truck broke down, so we took it to a friend of his to have a look at it. The good news is we made to him. Bad news is the motor is blown. So no more truck. Makes my job hunting a little problematic when three days out of the week, I need to have about three hours off to go home and get him, drive him to the yard, then drive back to work. I'm sure that will go over well with a prospective employer. Then I need about a week and a half off in November when I have my hearing and get my son back (fingers crossed). I'm sure that will be on the top of any employers list to hire someone, then give them time off. So, for the time being, I am assuming that if I was meant to have a job, I would have found it. When I am meant to find it I will. Or not. If, When not if, when not if. WHEN I get my son back, I will just go back to school to get my degree. Mail Man and I talked about that the other day. So we are not worrying about it too much. He makes enough to live on. The extra income would be nice, but hey, we've survived so far. We'll survive if I don't find a job. In the meantime, I just keep looking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bonus, if I don't find a job, I get to be a stay at home mom. Or (future) wife. Depends I guess on the hearing. I will have time to do all the things that I never had time to do before. Well, I have had time in the past few months, but you know what I mean. Plus, by being home all day, I get to be home when Mail Man is home. He leaves in the early afternoon and is gone all night. If I was working, I would not see him except one day a week in the evening. It would be like when I still was a Yankee in location as well as heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those days were not nearly as fun as the days are now.&amp;nbsp;For example, the other day, we both woke up a bit stuffy from having to turn the heat on at night. Knowing how grossed out I am by phlegm, Mail Man proceeds to dig out a big nasty green booger out of his nose. Makes me want to gag just thinking about it. Then he chases me to the bedroom acting like he is going to wipe it all over me. We laugh and wrestle around and generally just have a fine time. Even if the booger was hanging over me. He is not really &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; gross, and doesn't usually make it a habit to pick his nose, but he was just torturing me. Now where else could I have that kind of fun? He is a guy, though, so he is a bit gross. At least to this gal. (Yes, he washed his hands.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can keep making my home made butter delivery system. (bread) And go shopping any time I want to. Sounds like the ideal life. If I liked to shop anyway. At least I will have the bread to keep me busy and sane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how's life treating you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-7964113216890916801?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/7964113216890916801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/10/recovering-economy-and-phlegm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/7964113216890916801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/7964113216890916801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/10/recovering-economy-and-phlegm.html' title='Recovering Economy and Phlegm'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-5965914868577944851</id><published>2010-09-10T20:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T20:29:37.133-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shut your trap'/><title type='text'>Feeling Stabby?</title><content type='html'>Ever have one of those days when you are feeling &lt;strike&gt;stabby&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;murderous&lt;/strike&gt; cranky and would like to &lt;strike&gt;stab someone in the eye&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;throttle them&lt;/strike&gt; spend some time away from everyone? Yeah, me too. But not too worry folks. I have found an alternative to &lt;strike&gt;embarking on a murderous rampage&lt;/strike&gt; help you feel better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of all things, I have found that making bread does that for me. I know, I know. It takes so long. But let me tell you, that 10 minutes of kneading the&amp;nbsp;dough? Wow. I just imagine the face of the person&amp;nbsp;I'm&amp;nbsp;currently &lt;strike&gt;wanting to kill&lt;/strike&gt; pissed at on my ball of dough and go to work. And I'm multitasking. All that kneading is surely good for toning my arms. So next time &lt;strike&gt;I'm pissed at someone and want to choke them I have nice strong arms&lt;/strike&gt; I wear a sleeveless shirt, maybe I will be able to tell a difference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I get to knead the dough twice. So I get to &lt;strike&gt;smash thier face in&lt;/strike&gt; imagine I'm actually doing something two times! Yippee for me! Then I get to bake it. That home made fresh baked bread smell? It's good for bargaining. Be nice or I will eat the whole damned loaf myself while you watch. And you won't get any. See all that warm ooey gooey butter melting off the slice of warm from the oven bread. Heh. You don't get any. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See how that works, Ass?&amp;nbsp; I feel better already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-5965914868577944851?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/5965914868577944851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/09/feeling-stabby.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5965914868577944851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5965914868577944851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/09/feeling-stabby.html' title='Feeling Stabby?'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-6185267634789801007</id><published>2010-09-01T23:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T23:39:31.608-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WTF?'/><title type='text'>Some of This and Some of That</title><content type='html'>OMG. I think that the last few weeks have drained every bit of life out of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my visit with my son a couple of weeks ago. A few problems with that, but nothing to post about here. That's not the point of this one. Anyway, after the visit, on Monday we packed and loaded to go to see Mail Man's family and deal with some child support court issues. We left early on Tuesday to meet with an attorney. Spent Tuesday evening in the 1000 degree heat watching his son and daughter at the ball field for pictures for football and cheerleading. Then crashed into bed that night. I was wore the fuck out. Then on Wednesday, we had to visit with 5 million family members. Run errands. Make food for his family. (Apparently they think that I am the world's best cook. hahahaha) Crash into bed that night. Thursday get up early for the court date. I didn't go of course because I have no intention of meeting his ex any time soon. When this all gets straightened out and we get the kids on a regular basis, I will have to. For now, though, I will keep my sanity and distance from her. We waited and waited for Mail Man to call and tell us if they dismissed the case as they were supposed to do. Finally he called and said that yes they did and he was on his way back. Totally stressed out from waiting, I was. Another day of visiting 5 million family members and running around. Then back into the 1000 degree heat to watch the kids practice. Repeat crash into bed. Friday was not as hectic, mostly sitting with his grandma and visiting. And cleaning her house and meeting even more family. Holy Hell, i think that he is related to every one in that county. Again, repeat crash into bed. Except at his grandma's house, where we had to sleep in different rooms. No biggie. I finally got to sleep in the bed without him hogging the whole bed all night. Get up early on Saturday to go and watch the season opener games. Yes, games as in plural. It was hot and humid again, and then it rained and the sun came back out. I think I died a little that day. Go to Taco Bell and run into his brother, his wife, and their kids and eat with them. Finally go home. And go out with some friends we forgot we said we'd go out with. And&amp;nbsp;drink alcohol.&amp;nbsp;Get home super late. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep for a&amp;nbsp;year and a half. Wake up crabby. Still tired. And period late. Shitfuckdamn. Hoping that it was just stress I took a pregnancy test. Negative. Whew. Thank you fates. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still no period on Tuesday. Starting to get&amp;nbsp;even more worried. Getting more crabby. Then I started spotting some. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday, when I woke up, I was all crampy and finally started my period. Whew. Double whew. Still crabby. And I wanted to clean my house, do laundry, clean windows and re-arrange the living room. Apparently nobody told Mail Man that women occassionally get the whim to rearrange the furniture and that the men should just go right along with it and say yes, dear. Since I was still crampy and crabby, I totally snapped at him and started arguements. Mail Man was not real happy with me. Finally I got the furniture rearranged. And the house clean. And the windows clean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday, I was exhausted again. I assume with good reason, seeing as I worked my ass off cleaning and moving furniture the day before. Except my period had virtually stopped again. WTF. I was still spotting, so I decided not to worry about it. But I was really tired and not feeling sexy or horny at all. Mail Man at this point was starting to get worried. I had not told him I was worried enough to take a test a few days earlier. I told him then and he said too bad I was taking another one because he just knew I was pregnant. Go to store to buy chips and candy and a test. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get home and wait til Friday morning to take the test. Still negative. Thanks again&amp;nbsp;Fates. And he was totally wrong. So much for his just knowing. &amp;nbsp;I think PMS kicked my ass hard this month. Not a lot of flow, just crampy, moodiness, tiredness, and food cravings. That has all but ended and I feel much better now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add to all of this, on the way home from visiting his family, the clutch went out on his truck. This just after we got my van back from needing a new transmission and few other things. And almost $1600 later, it seems to be running. We call around to see about parts or having it put in. Yeah, almost $600 for the clutch. Did I mention his truck is an antique. It's like, over 30 years old. But at least it runs. Well, it did. Fuck. We don't ahve the money to fix it because we just fixed my van. So it's sitting in the driveway and we are down to just my van. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had my next visit with my son, and it went well. Then Monday rolls around. We have to get up early. His mom is on her way to the hospital for surgery and will call and tell us when she gets to town so we can meet her there. The dingbat waits to call us until she is in the parking lot. We scramble to finish getting our stuff together and get out the door. To drive to the other side of town through morning rush hour traffic. Of course she is a nervous wreck cuz she has been sitting there on her own. She is a bit nuerotic anyway, and totally worked herself up on how awful the surgery was going to be and scared herself witless. We got her calmed down and she went back for her surgery. She was super groggy and had a hard time waking up. And when she did wake up, she acted like she was drunk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then on Tuesday, her blood pressure bottomed out. She couldn't talk. She wasn't coherent. (I'm not sure she is all that coherent anyway, but she was a lot worse. She is a pretty goofy lady, but I really like her a lot. She is friendly and personable.) Her throat and tongue swelled up. Finally her BP improved up into the normal range. She was able to tell us where she was and answer all of the questions we asked her. Although her tongue was still a bit swelled. Mail Man stayed with her on Tuesday night. I had the bed to myself again, but did not really enjoy it too much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday morning, I get up around eight after not sleeping too well. I don't want to call and wake them up, knowing she probably didn't sleep too much, and knowing that Mail Man would not sleep at all. Finally after not hearing from them, at 9:30 I sent him a text. He promptly called back and said I could come and get him anytime. I put on my makeup and grabbed my bag and was off. We came home and Mail Man said his legs and feet were killing him. I rubbed his legs and foot. (One is in a cast again, but yet again that's another story.) Mail Man fell asleep after I was done in like, less than 30 seconds. I knew he was really tired. For some reason, so was I. So he slept in the recliner where he had sat down when he came in the door, and I laid down on the floor. We both woke up and got cleaned up again. We left to go back to the hospital. We stopped at Arby's for dinner. I dropped him off and came back home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had not even been home an hour when he sends me a text saying her BP botomed out again. I told him to ask what meds she had in the past few hours. The dumb fucks at the hospital gave her the BP meds she had been on before the surgery. Now, why in the fuck would you give BP meds for high blood pressure to someone that had been bottoming out and finally leveled out today to a normal healthy BP? Why in the fuck would you give BP meds to someone that is not having high BP's? So &lt;em&gt;of course&lt;/em&gt; her BP bottomed out. They were giving her meds to lower a perfectly healthy BP. So now the idiots have overdosed her on pain meds so that she was punch drunk, then given her BP meds to lower a BP of 120/70. I think she needs to get out of there as soon as she can. She's going to rehab after the hospital stay and hopefully they are smarter than the idiots at the hospital she is at. The doctors even told us yesterday and today that they would write a note to hold the BP meds until her BP reached a certain point. I am absolutely certain that 120/70 was not the point at which they said to resume the meds. I haven't heard anything back yet, so I am going to assume the best at this point. I am sure that I would have heart more back if anything else had gone wrong or if she wasn't doing well. I will just hope that she is going to do ok for the rest of the night and sleep well. And I hope that Mail Man is able to get some sleep as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Internets, how was your day?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-6185267634789801007?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/6185267634789801007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/09/some-of-this-and-some-of-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/6185267634789801007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/6185267634789801007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/09/some-of-this-and-some-of-that.html' title='Some of This and Some of That'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-2705987004936260374</id><published>2010-08-04T09:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T09:16:26.565-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>I Feel Pretty</title><content type='html'>There has been another side effect to meeting Mail Man. Someone actually cares what I look like. Now, I've already written about the weight loss. With the unusual dieting techniques. Like eating breakfast. Who knew all those smarty-pants types were right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, even with the weight loss, I did not really get any new clothes, fix my hair. You know all that girly stuff. Except the lip gloss. I still am having a love affair with my lip gloss. I even bought more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now living with Mail Man, I have some new clothes that actually are sort of flattering. As if clothes can ever look flattering on me. And I got my hair fixed. Nothing fancy. Well, a lot fancy for me. Usually I let it grow out until I can chop enough off for Locks of Love. That's it. A straight hair look. This time? I got some layers put in. I got some side swooping bangs. And I got my hair colored. For like the first time ever in my life. NO MORE GRAYS! I didn't realize how much older I looked with all the gray hairs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even got a slinky black dress for when we go out. I am turning into a girl. He even got me to get a pair of heels. And I did not fall down while wearing them. Or break my ankle. I feel sexy wearing my black dress and heels. Who knew? Apparently Mail Man did because he made me buy them. And he bought me some jeans that actually fit properly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel pretty. And sexy. Never again will I let myself go to the extent that I have in the past several years. It's a wonder he even talked to me after he saw me in my too big pants, gray hair, and ratty shoes. I am really glad to know that he saw past the rough exterior to the person inside or we may not be where we are today. And I love where we are today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he has taught me to love shopping. Not that he wants to go all the time, but he does encourage me to go. And buy what I want. As long as it is not frumpy. He makes me feel good about myself in a way that's not "oh I need him to feel good", but in a way that I know I could have done it without him if I had just cared enough to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what about you, internets friends? Do you feel sexy anymore? Do you get your hair done to cover the grays and suddenly feel younger? Do you have a slinky little black dress? What do you do to make yourself feel good?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-2705987004936260374?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/2705987004936260374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-feel-pretty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/2705987004936260374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/2705987004936260374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-feel-pretty.html' title='I Feel Pretty'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-8571887200615895850</id><published>2010-07-29T11:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T11:08:25.785-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>It's ALIVE!</title><content type='html'>I have a new computer!!! Yipee!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can now post again. No more six years to load a page if the computer can load it at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am now down here in The South. Yes, it is it's own nation, no matter what the map says. Our rental house is one of 5 that our landlord owns here on his 100 acres. Yes, we are living near a couple of other houses on 100 acres of land. Bliss. There are horses, barns, a pond. All that good country living stuff that we love. Obviously, I am all unpacked seeing as it's been months since I last posted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We promply found a couple of bars to go to, so we can listen to bands and drink. Another wine over here, please. Gotta have our priorities ya know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The job that I was supposed to get when I moved down here? Yeah, it got delayed and delayed until now, it doesn't start until October, possibly. Well, not gonna happen. I will find something else, well anything else before then. I'll get back to you on how that works. Economy and all. Although I am totally&amp;nbsp;loving this being home every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently the folks down here are freaks too. I have found several sex toy shops. Fun. And sexy slutty clothes. Mmmmm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life as a couple has been great. We have (obviously) had a few arguements. But mostly it's stuff that we each have done for years and it didn't occur to us that someone else might not like it. Like when I get done with dishes I leave the drain stop in the sink to catch any bits that find their way into the sink to prevent them from going down the drain, and MM doesn't like it. So, I tell him to take it out if it bothers him, then I put it back in later. That's how it works, right? I usually do the dishes anyway, so maybe he could just not look. I can't complain about his bathroom habits, though. He does not piss on the seat, he doesn't dribble on the floor, AND he puts the seat back down when he is done. What more could a girl ask for? No falling into the toilet in the middle of the night for me. I'm so lucky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention the benefit of being able to have sex anytime we want? No more waiting until we get together again. No more trying to find enough hours on the weekend. Anytime we want, we just jump into bed, or on the floor, or where ever, we're not picky, just horny. And the sex shops, we have found some really neat clothes there. I'm not sure that there is enough materieal to call them clothes though. Maybe I should stick with lingerie as it's description.&amp;nbsp; But clothes/lingerie or not, the sex has been fabulous. I'm sure we're still in the honeymoon phase, and that someday it will become normal like everyone else, but for now, I am content. Or tired. But satisfied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have had several adventures since I have been down here. I will start sharing them with you. For now, I will leave you with this update. Hope all is going good for you, bloggy friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-8571887200615895850?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/8571887200615895850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-alive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/8571887200615895850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/8571887200615895850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-alive.html' title='It&apos;s ALIVE!'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-4114868837128683229</id><published>2010-04-30T12:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T12:43:19.134-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WTF?'/><title type='text'>The End. The Beginning.</title><content type='html'>Today is my last day at work. I have not done shit at work this week. Just some very basic training. I have been bored out of my mind. I think my brain atrophied this week. I can hardly think straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I can think straight about is that today is the last day I have to deal with this particular bitch. I know there will be another one, but adios bee-otch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still not done packing. I ran out of boxes and had to go get more last night. I am also taking more home from work today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have dinner with my mom, cousin S, sister and her girls planned for tonight. MM said he was ready to skip it and just get home. We pick the truck up in the morning and he said he wanted to load it and leave then. I told him no. We were staying til Sunday morning so we can sleep Saturday night for the long ass drive on Sunday. I will be drained from saying good-bye to all my friends at work, then saying good-bye to my family. I don't want to try to drive after all of that. I want to sleep some. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we will just pack what ever is already in boxes on Saturday morning into the truck, then worry about getting that last bit of shit packed and loaded by ourselves later on Saturday. Have I mentioned that I hate moving? Have I mentioned that my computer at home is like 10-12 years old, and I can't get shit to load on it? SO, I will not have any internet for several days, if not weeks when I move. I am going to go into withdrawal. I will totally have to find a library and get a card so I can get online. What will I do without my fix of all you? I will lose my mind, that's what. Or at least I can pretend I am so we can get a computer faster. I may take the old computer just to see if I can make it work for now. No way do I want to go for a couple of weeks with no interwebz. Not that the computer problems have anything to do with moving and loading the truck. Just sayin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now think I am really stessing about this move even though I didn't think I was. I have a headache again today. I also still have some pressure in my face, so I took some more my boyfriend sinus medicine. I don't get a fuzzy tongue from it though. And the netti pot that was a preference of &lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;the Un Mom&lt;/a&gt; kinda scares me. It just seems gross. Plus, I am not having drainage and I am not stopped up. I just feel pressure behind my eyes and around my nose. I am not sure if it can work for that. Oh, well, it's not like I was gonna run out and try it today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am apparently getting a farewell party today at work. I was thinking about leaving early, but for cake and goodies? I am totally staying. Hopefully there will not be any tears. I don't do tears. Too much emotion for me. I like life to be&amp;nbsp;smooth and level. Or maybe life not&amp;nbsp;smooth and level, but my emotions&amp;nbsp;smooth and level. Makes things easier to deal with. Usually. Just call me emotionally restrained. Unless it's exciting, then&amp;nbsp;I'm all about that. Excitement is fun to have and share. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywhoooo, I should have saved this for a random post, cuz that's what this shit is. See how my brain is operating today? It's been this way all week. Plus I'm super tired to go with it. So I have a fuzzy brain (not tongue) and a tired brain. I am starting to wonder how I have functioned at all this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-4114868837128683229?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/4114868837128683229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/end-beginning.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/4114868837128683229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/4114868837128683229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/end-beginning.html' title='The End. The Beginning.'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-848580056332291451</id><published>2010-04-27T15:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T15:20:34.106-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RTT'/><title type='text'>RTT. Sorry No Snappy Title</title><content type='html'>It's Tuesday. &lt;br /&gt;Here ya go:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;&lt;img alt="randomtuesday" src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go visit Keely at &lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;The Un Mom&lt;/a&gt;. Play along. Comment. Especially comment. We all need a little bit of smartass in our lives today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made good progress last night. Finished all that I set out to accomplish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the bar last night for dinner. I ate fried food. Good for the waist line, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stayed out kinda late even though I was tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got home and watched Twilight, New Moon. Or mostly watched it. Went to bed before it was over. I was still up to like midnight like a dumbass. So, I'm still tired today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad to be moving and that I won't have that long fucking drive Sunday nights anymore. That 2 am shit getting home and then going to work the next morning is for the birds. Or at least someone ten years younger than me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not eating as much now that the PMS is going away. I'm still snacking today, but not nearly so much. Not to mention when I'm full, I'm able to stop eating. Much better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends little boy broke his arm at school the other day. The boys at school signed their names and the girls drew hearts on the cast. And he's still miserable. No sports or bike racing for weeks now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't watch the news or read the paper.&amp;nbsp; I get my fix of "news" from other blogs. Mostly celebrity news. I really get sick of hearing most of it. They're human too, so let's just get over them and start worrying about the real stuff news people, K? And Kate? Go away. Let your kids grow up with a "normal" life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heart Purell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't heart germs. And doorhandles that icky people have touched. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heart Subway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't heart cranky mean people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heart &lt;a href="http://www.mommywantsvodka.com/"&gt;Aunt Becky&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't heart working. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heart Random Tuesday Thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't heart not enough time to read all the blogs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now get over &lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;there&lt;/a&gt; and play and read along.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-848580056332291451?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/848580056332291451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/its-tuesday.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/848580056332291451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/848580056332291451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/its-tuesday.html' title='RTT. Sorry No Snappy Title'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-539473289684025603</id><published>2010-04-26T16:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T16:44:57.533-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>The Never Ending Story</title><content type='html'>I made a dent in the upstairs room that had holiday storage in it. We took one van load over to my sister's basement. It cleaned out most of what is going with us (at some point). I have to finish sorting&amp;nbsp;the room&amp;nbsp;to get rid of most of what is left. I also have a spare twin bed up there, but it is going with us. Well, I say bed, but it is just the box spring and mattress on the floor. The box springs I probably don't need. The bunk beds that the matress goes on does not use box springs. I will probably get rid of the box springs after all. Then I have some Partylite candles in there to box up and that is about it for the room. I won't be getting anything done tonight because I leave to go down south for my visit with Creep.&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am back from my visit. Tonight I start on the upstairs room. I should be able to get that room completely finished and closed off. I also plan to get all the stuff going to the Salvation Army loaded into the van for MM to take tomorrow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, my mom is coming over to get all the garden stuff I have outside. That will take care of the back porch as well. I don't need any of the garden stuff this year. I am not figuring I will have time to worry about gardening while moving and starting a new job, learning my way around, finding the stores I will need to shop at. Basically just learning the area and how to get around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then tomorrow night I will clean out the shit room. I used it for storing shit, and I left all the shit there. Now, I get to sort through it all and pitch most of it. I will keep a few things in there, but most of it will go bye-bye. I should have done &lt;strike&gt;some&lt;/strike&gt; most of this months ago. Talk about procrastination. Oh, well. I guess it's getting done now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I will have this all done before the weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And holy fuck, have you checked out the prices for a U-Haul lately? The last time I rented one it was a couple of hundred dollars to rent a u-haul. Of course you have to pay for the gas and what-not, so obviously it costs more than that, but it was like $200 to rent the truck. Now? It's damn close to $600 just for the truck. WTF? And the mileage seems to have gone down some. I asked for extra miles because our house is way out in BFE and I'm not sure the mileage allowance would have been enough. They were happy to accomodate me on that though. I guess renting the truck is cheaper than buying all new furniture though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew moving was going to cost so much? Not me, that's for sure. I will save the cost on the moving in the first couple of months though on all the gas that I save not having to drive over 1200 miles every other weekend to see my son. Yippee!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-539473289684025603?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/539473289684025603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-made-dent-in-upstairs-room-that-had.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/539473289684025603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/539473289684025603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-made-dent-in-upstairs-room-that-had.html' title='The Never Ending Story'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-4316305520680145324</id><published>2010-04-21T12:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T12:21:07.046-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shut your trap'/><title type='text'>Spare Tires</title><content type='html'>I am in the &lt;strike&gt;crush&lt;/strike&gt; countdown for moving. I am still not packed. I still have shit to sort through. I still have more shit to get rid of. I am making progress. We took two van loads to my sister's basement last night. I will probably not take any loads over tonight. I plan on taking MM up to the bar tonight so he can meet my dad and pals. They have good food, and of course, alcohol. I like me some wine. Except they don't have wine. They do have Smirnoff though. I'll take that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one room in&amp;nbsp;my house completely emptied out, cleaned and closed off. I have another room that is emptied of everything not going with us. It is not cleaned and closed off because that is my bedroom. The bathroom is emptied of everything we don't need on a daily basis. I haven't even started on the kitchen, dining room, or two spare bedrooms. One spare bedroom was storage and that is going to the basement at my sister's house. The other one is the "junk" room. Everything got tossed in there until I could figure out what I wanted to do with it. Shit's all still there. But not for long. I will have to make sure we get home in time tonight to make a dent in the other upstairs spare room. I will probably load it all into the van. Or at least what fits. Then take it to my sister's house tomorrow night after work. Maybe another load as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot of tubs that have decorations in them for thanksgiving and christmas. I am not taking all of them because there is no place to store them. I plan on coming home on a regular basis, so each trip home I will load my van with the tubs for the next season to use in our house. Then I will rent a storage space somewhere down there to keep the stuff nearby for when we buy a house next year. That will without a doubt have a basement for me to store &lt;strike&gt;this shit&lt;/strike&gt; these valuable items in. MM says I can't use the house for storage and that he doesn't want stuff everywhere. He's never seen what I can do with packing/storing. He needs to be prepared to be amazed. He'll figure it out soon enough. And I'll just smile. It's a girly thing, yo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I get the spare room emptied and cleaned, then all I have left is the first floor. Yippee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is starting to have a hard time with the move. She has been telling me for weeks that she is happy for me and wants what is best for me. This all seems like it is working out for the best. Yada, yada. Today, she tells me that she is having a problem with all of this. She is going to miss me. Well, obviously. What did she think was going to happen? I really think what she is going to miss is me coming over to clean the gutters since no one else in the family can climb up on the roof. They're a bunch of height-fearin-phobics. What's up with that? Heights themselves can't kill ya. Right? And she will miss my manual labor coming over to help her dig up and transplant her flowers when she can't do it by herself. Right Mom? You just know one of your &lt;strike&gt;slaves&lt;/strike&gt; children is escaping? And that is hard to bear?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-4316305520680145324?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/4316305520680145324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-am-in-crush-countdown-for-moving.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/4316305520680145324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/4316305520680145324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-am-in-crush-countdown-for-moving.html' title='Spare Tires'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-1468389283639200903</id><published>2010-04-20T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T16:39:37.045-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RTT'/><title type='text'>Flowers and Unicorns and Cats</title><content type='html'>It's Tuesday. That means random. Good thing, too. &lt;br /&gt;Grab your button and play along. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;&lt;img alt="randomtuesday" src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love flowers. Not the kind from the flower shop. The kind in the ground. You know, the ones you plant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure if I believe in Unicorns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That will satisfy the "requirement" for flowers and unicorns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had Subway for lunch. It was tasty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to a company picnic for MM yesterday. It was way out in the middle of nowhere and it was a beatiful spot. The food was good and the people there were really nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home really late last night. It was almost 2 am. I have got two more weeks of that shit. Then I will be down there and have a two hour drive home. Yippee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been eating like there's no tomorrow. I know it's because I have been really busy and active the past&amp;nbsp;few weeks, but I am worried I am going to start gaining weight again. I will have to really watch it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is just about all the random I have for today. Now go check out Keely at &lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;The UnMom&lt;/a&gt; for more random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS- I just realized I didn't post anything about cats. Oh, well, it's a random title and senseless title, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-1468389283639200903?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/1468389283639200903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/flowers-and-unicorns-and-cats.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/1468389283639200903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/1468389283639200903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/flowers-and-unicorns-and-cats.html' title='Flowers and Unicorns and Cats'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-394263355938977329</id><published>2010-04-14T13:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T13:00:09.032-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We have a house. I am sooo ready to pack my shit and get out of here. They finally posted my job, however, even if they hire someone soon, I will be gone by the time they are ready to start. So, I really want to just leave. There will not be anyone for me to train. I could just load my shit up and get out of here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except that ugly bit of me that is responsible keeps popping up and saying "it's not responsible to just leave. It wouldn't be right." So I am still here. While MM is not. Man, I am bummed about that. I only got to see him for a short time this past weekend. I was with my son for the weekend. I did take Friday off and went down Thursday night. I spent Friday with him lounging around and taking some stuff to our house that I had brought for him to use. Then we spent Friday night by going to the club and listening to the band. They were pretty good, although they got a late start and took a really long break. We were ready to go by the time they got back. I spent all day with my son, and we had a good visit. Saturday night I went back to MM and spent the night there &lt;strike&gt;getting laid&lt;/strike&gt; with him. I got up early and went back to get my son for the day. We had another good day. I stopped briefly to tell MM good bye as I had to come back to work on Monday. I ended up not making very good time on the way home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it with all the fucking morons that have to stop every time they see an orange cone or barrel on the side of the road. I mean, come on&amp;nbsp;folks. &lt;em&gt;Yes&lt;/em&gt;, I realize it is construction. &lt;em&gt;Yes&lt;/em&gt;, I realize that you have to slow down so you don't &lt;strike&gt;dent your car if you run someone over&lt;/strike&gt; hit and kill and innocent construction worker. I get that, but 10 miles an hour? On the fucking interstate? Please? Just hit the gas peddle a little bit. I promise it won't dent your car that much if you are running 20-30 miles an hour. I got places to go and people to see. Well, no I don't. Not really. But I do have a lead foot and you driving slow? Makes me want to stab you. Or run you over. You are so lucky my minivan is not big enough to absorb the shock if I run into you. Just get the fuck out of my way already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, sorry for the road rage.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it to work on Monday morning. Really tired (see above paragraph), but I made it. Only to find out they are no closer to finding a replacement for me. Oh, well. Not my problem as soon as the 30th rolls around. I will still answer questions if they have any, but it ultimately will be theirs to deal with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am so ready to move. MM is off due to being injured at work. He is sitting by himself down there and I am by myself up here. Boring. I will bring him back with me this weekend. Then we can at least spend the evening together up here. And the nights. and just think what fun that will be. Shit, I will probably be so tired for the next two weeks, that I'll look like I'm in a coma at work. Oh, well. I didn't want to spend my last couple of weeks working hard anyway. It'll be attack of the zombies when we are up here together. But at least it won't be &lt;a href="http://toywithme.com/uncategorized/the-weirdest-porn-ive-ever-loved/"&gt;midget zombie porn&lt;/a&gt;. That would be scary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for today, friendz. It's time for me to take a break for lunch. (Isn't that nice, I can take a break and blog, then take a break for lunch. It's nice to be me.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-394263355938977329?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/394263355938977329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/we-have-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/394263355938977329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/394263355938977329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/we-have-house.html' title=''/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-1574097848984850182</id><published>2010-04-01T15:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T15:14:56.343-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>Wha Not to Wear Part III</title><content type='html'>Okay,&amp;nbsp;my sister is ready to choke me. I called and talked to her for a while again last night about my upcoming move. The church is ready for me to move on because they have some new ministry members coming in, and they would prefer to give them my house. That way the families have some place to stay while they are looking for a home. I'm kind of feeling rushed here. Hurry up and get the fuck&amp;nbsp;out. They would never actually say that, cuz they are too polite, but it is what they are thinking and wanting. So, now I have to pack and get cleaned out &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; make the house spic and span. The original plan was to demolish the house when I moved, but apparently now they want to use it longer. If they were going to demolish it, I was not going to spend a lot of time cleaning, because, obviously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooo, I decided to bring up the idea of jeans for a wedding outfit again. She huffed and puffed and told me no way. My response? "Okay, I will wear a dress. I looked at Target like you told me too. I found a dress I really liked. I also found a bunch that looked really awful on these saggy nursed a baby boobies." Sis got all excited that I found a dress. "Ooohhhh, what does it look like?&amp;nbsp; What color is it?" So of course I had to tell her it was a slip dress with spaghetti straps and a sheer dress (for lack of a better word) that goes over it. It is still short sleeves,&amp;nbsp;and it has a scoop neck on it. I really like it. So I bought it. Again she wanted to know what color it was, because, oh she saw this dress that was this color and that dress that was that color......&lt;br /&gt;"I will wear a dress if I can wear this black one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"YOU CAN'T WEAR A BLACK DRESS TO GET MARRIED IN!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I got yelled at, just like I thought. Then I started cracking up since I knew that was exactly what I thought would happen. She was only slightly annoyed at me. Then I told her to dress the girls up in party dresses and fancy shoes and I would go back to wearing jeans. She huffed at me and changed the subject. &lt;br /&gt;I don't understand why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as I was telling MM last night, he changed his mind. I can't wear jeans. I have to wear a dress. I am pretty sure I know exactly why &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; wants me to wear a dress. Typical man. He gets to wear jeans, but I have to wear a dress. I&amp;nbsp;informed him that he was wrong and if &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; could put on jeans to get married in, so&amp;nbsp;could I dammit. He was having none of it last night. Kept telling me he was the man and not to argue with him. I'll set him straight. (He was laughing while he was telling me this so it wasn't really being a high-handed sexist attitude.) I guess I'll have to work on him some this weekend to get him round to my view. &amp;nbsp;Maybe find some jeans that look super good that he will want me to wear all the time. Show off my ass or something. He told me no again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I did what any rational level headed female would do.&amp;nbsp;I informed him I would go naked, and that would solve the arguement of what I would wear. Put my whole body out there for the entire world to see. He just laughed at me. I am pretty sure he did not believe me. Maybe I'll wear my bathing suit. That'll show'em all. At least it is not made out of jean material and it is not black. Satisfies all the requirements laid down by my sister and MM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-1574097848984850182?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/1574097848984850182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/wha-not-to-wear-part-iii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/1574097848984850182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/1574097848984850182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/04/wha-not-to-wear-part-iii.html' title='Wha Not to Wear Part III'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-3541111679684022262</id><published>2010-03-31T14:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T14:08:00.179-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>What Not to Wear Part II</title><content type='html'>Ok, I have left you hanging long enough on the heart attack from my sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my sister called me up and says we need to talk about the wedding. I told her there is not going to be some big fancy wedding. She started having a heart attack about it before I could even start telling her my plans and hopes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want there to be a wedding"&lt;br /&gt;"I've never been in any one else's weddding"&lt;br /&gt;"I want to be the one that stands up there and gets to hold the brides flowers"&lt;br /&gt;"I want to wear a fancy Maid of Honor/Bridesmaid dress"&lt;br /&gt;"What colors are you going to have"*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa, whoa whoa. Slow down. I am not going to wear a fancy dress so neither are you. I am not going to pick out a color scheme. I am not going to have flowers every where unless they are already planted in the ground. OMG, you would have thought I just cut her fucking arms off. She started panicking that she would not get to wear a nice dress. And OMG don't forget about the girls and that they would want to be flower girls and wear fancy dresses and shoes. And OMG don't forget about.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop again. No color scheme, no flower girls, no fancy dresses for the girls (although on that point it was more to aggrevate her than anything. The girls can wear whatever they want to. They are adorable in their fancy "party dresses" and patent leather shoes.). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she proceeded to tell me that I &lt;em&gt;HAVE&lt;/em&gt; to wear a&amp;nbsp;dress. I cannot get married in jeans. (I may tell her that is fine as long as I get to wear a black one and she what kind of fit she has then.) She told me that I had to wear shoes(meaning heels). Now, come on, every person that knows me &lt;em&gt;knows&lt;/em&gt; I don't wear dress shoes(meaning heels-have you ever seen an elephant in heels? No? Me either, but I think that is what I would look like trying to walk in heels-no coordination). I wear tennis shoes every day that I can.** Or no shoes as soon as I get home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to tell her that this will totally not be a traditional wedding. I want my kind of wedding. The kind that is more of a party or celebration than a solemn occasion uniting a man and woman. Shouldn't we be celebrating that we want to get married, not standing following some protocol? And most definitely we will do it how we want. Just a simple "I do" ceremony and then a big cookout and party afterwards. Of course we will have to sneak off to do a simple ceremony of our own at some point during the evening....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My poor sister wants to be in a traditional wedding so bad she can't stand it. She wants to stand up with me, have the girls be flower girls, dress up, all of the flowers and hoop-la decorating the church and all that shit. I kept trying to tell her it wasn't going to happen, but she kept insisting. I am pretty sure it will crush her when I still do it my way, but I. Am. Not. Wearing. A. Dress. Or. Shoes. She is going to have a heart attack all&amp;nbsp;over again when I tell her that I am absolutely certain I am not doing it her way. But she had her fairy tale wedding, and I had to do things her way. Like wearing a dress, that &lt;em&gt;came from a bridal shop&lt;/em&gt;. I just won't be doing that. No more will my feet be walking into a bridal shop. For anyone. That shit is way to girlie for me to want to even be in the same room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my poor poor sister is going to have to suck up being all prissy and preppy and come down to my level for a day. Hick City here I come, with my preppy sister in tow. They won't know what hit them. She is trendy and makes me crazy. But have no doubt that I love my sister, and most definitely love to torture the fuck out of her. Cuz, you know, that's what sisters are for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;* I am pretty sure there was more, but with all the fast talking, panicking and words falling out of her mouth at that high rate of speed, I did not catch all of it. I just can't wait to have the wedding conversation with her again, just to see what happens to come out of her mouth next. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;**As a side note the reason for tennies is that I am a total clutz. I stopped in to see a friend of mine at the bar/grill I go to that she works at. She was pulling in as I got there. She and I walked up to each other and she was going to give me a hug for congratulations, but instead caught me because even in tennies, I tripped up, yes up, the curb and fell into her. That is my grace in action. So NO heels. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-3541111679684022262?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/3541111679684022262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-not-to-wear-part-ii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/3541111679684022262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/3541111679684022262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-not-to-wear-part-ii.html' title='What Not to Wear Part II'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-5150768517679177237</id><published>2010-03-30T10:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T10:59:27.469-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RTT'/><title type='text'>Non Waxing, Non Milk Kind of Visits. Oh Yeah, and Easter.</title><content type='html'>Come and join me over at &lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;Keely's&lt;/a&gt;. She's the Un Mom. You'll love her. Then grab an ugly purple button of your own and play along. And don't bitch about it, just&amp;nbsp;do what you're told. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"&gt;&lt;img alt="randomtuesday" src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned that I do not have what it takes to wax. I think it requires far more skill, or talent, or coordination or some damn thing that I don't have. It was pretty funny though. Not funny enough to try it again on my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been eating like a pig. I hate PMS. Glad it should be ending soon. Not glad for the next step though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be officially moving now at the first of May. My last day at work will be the 30th of April. MM is coming up to help me pack the truck and spend some time with my family/friends a couple of days before I move down there. I plan on spending Friday night with me, MM and my mom. Then spend Saturday with MM, my mom, sis and her girls, and all of us spending the day over at K's house.&amp;nbsp; We can do a cookout or something. She said if it is nice out, we can sit on their new patio in the back or just stay inside and visit if the weather is not so nice. Then we can go home and start loading the truck, finish loading Sunday morning, get on the road on Sunday afternoon or early evening. We will unpack all the big stuff on Monday since MM has to go back to work on Tuesday. I can unload and unpack the rest of the stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so looking forward to this weekend. It is a long weekend for me since it's Easter. I get to spend a couple of days with MM and then spend Sunday with S. What a happy weekend. I am always glad for days off work, but even more glad when I get to spend the days with the men I love. (Wouldn't S love to know he was called a man instead of a boy hehe)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't have any plans for Easter because I will be visiting my son. We will probably go to the park, hide eggs and just hang out all day. Maybe play some baseball together. And eat. Gotta eat Easter candy. And treats. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love oreos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What? This is supposed to be random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I&amp;nbsp;don't love milk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, what's up with that shit? Oreos and no milk. Milk is gross. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't gross you all out by my reasons, but just know that if I can help it, I will always avoid milk. I have rice milk in my car and at home right now. Not real milk, but that is what makes it good to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-5150768517679177237?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/5150768517679177237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/non-waxing-non-milk-kind-of-visits-oh.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5150768517679177237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5150768517679177237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/non-waxing-non-milk-kind-of-visits-oh.html' title='Non Waxing, Non Milk Kind of Visits. Oh Yeah, and Easter.'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-5525846182584871652</id><published>2010-03-25T17:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T17:25:55.704-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch and then you die'/><title type='text'>Fu** and Double Fu**</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Warning: Lots of Cuss Words Ahead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I said that I was going to post about my sister's reaction to my half-assed wedding plans, but I am really feeling the need to vent. I am finally caught up with all the data entry that I had to do over the past few weeks. And all I fucking got was "I thought you were already caught up". No fucking thank&amp;nbsp;you, no fuck off you were too slow. What kind of statement is that. She knew I wasn't because she did not have my reports yet. Then while I am trying to get some journal entries done, I keep getting phone calls from another office because she cannot find a mistake. I am soooo sorry but it is not really something I care about today. I just don't want to worry about it right now. Too bad. I have to. So I spend almost two hours searching for a mistake in one of the cash lines. We still haven't found it. We found another error in the entries, but not the one we were looking for. So I get my journal entries in and forget to tell the gal that has reports to run behind me getting them posted. For like three hours. She asked as she was getting ready to leave, and of course my brain is so fried today I didn't even know what she was talking about at first. Then thought I had told her. Sorry, my fuck-up. She was not really upset, she said she would do them in the morning. That was perfectly fine with her. Then mega-bitch from the office next door just &lt;em&gt;had&lt;/em&gt; to keep coming in our office today with questions. She also asked about the journal entries. I told her, rather bitchy like, that &lt;em&gt;no&lt;/em&gt; they weren't in because I have spent the last five working days doing nothing but the payables you dumped on me all at once. 2 1/2 fucking months worth of shit she sat on and sat on and sat on. And I got less than two weeks to get it all in. In addition to running three month ends,&amp;nbsp; and one year end. On top of also doing all the day to day shit that keeps the office running, like payroll. Bitch, I've been busy. Then I turn back to my work and she keeps staring at me. I finally looked at her again, and she had the nerve to ask if I was okay. *snort* Just peachy. I have been working my ass off for days on end here, and she has been giving me hell, as usual, and she wants to know if I'm okay. Not that she really cares. She probably is counting the minutes until I leave. In case you didn't get it, we don't like each other. I definitely won't be missing her when I can tell this place good-bye. I'll miss my actual office and my co-workers in here, but damn I'll be glad to never have to talk to that bitch again. She's the talk nice to your face and slit your throat and stab you in the back at the same time kind of person. Laughing the whole time of how she got the better of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure that each individual complaint here doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but when you are getting ready to leave, trying to play two + months worth of catch up, they haven't even posted your job so someone can get hired for you to train, and&amp;nbsp;then office neighbor&amp;nbsp;being pissy all at the same time, it just overwhelmed me. Thanks for being there for me. I needed you today Interneters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-5525846182584871652?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/5525846182584871652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/fu-and-double-fu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5525846182584871652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5525846182584871652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/fu-and-double-fu.html' title='Fu** and Double Fu**'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-7212260936706082598</id><published>2010-03-24T12:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T12:25:55.389-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch and then you die'/><title type='text'>What Not to Wear</title><content type='html'>I am not classy. I don't like to dress up. I don't want to wear dresses (mostly because I am super self-conscious about my&amp;nbsp;legs which I think are fat) and I sure don't like to wear shoes that show off and highlight my toes (I have ugly toes). I want to go barefoot, in jeans and a tank top or t-shirt. I even mow my yard in bare feet (I fucking know I could cut my toes or feet off, I have heard it all before so stuff it because I am certain a pair of tennis shoes is not going to stop that blade). 'Course, I have green feet when I'm done, but it washes off eventually. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know how to behave in public. I do know how to present a classy facade. I just tend to ruin it when I open my mouth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is leading somewhere so stick with me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A wedding. I hope to get married sometime this fall. I want an outdoor/backyard wedding because I don't go to church and that seems wrong to me. It would seem false to me to go and a have a church wedding with G-d and all that shit when that is not how I believe(that's a whole different post and I don't want to hear about it today, K?). So MM is A-ok with an outdoor wedding. Score one for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to get married &lt;em&gt;without&lt;/em&gt; wearing some ridiculous poofy white mostrosity of a dress. I don't do dresses, and I &lt;em&gt;certainly&lt;/em&gt; don't do wedding dresses. Ick is all I can say. I want to wear jeans. And a tank top. And &lt;em&gt;no shoes&lt;/em&gt;. You read that right. I want to get married in bare feet. And jeans. And MM doesn't care as long as we get married in a ceremony and he doesn't have to wear a tux. Score two for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Side note: I just went to the bathroom here at work, and OMG, that bathroom is freeze your ass to the seat cold!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I asked MM if he cared if we went to Vegas and got married by Elvis. He was okay with that, too. Then I realized that both of our children would be disappointed if they did not get to be there and be a part of it. So, we'll get shackled here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told my mom my plans to get hitched barefoot in jeans, she laughed and said that sounded just like me. She also asked where I planned to get married since she knew it would not be in a church. She said the backyard sounded like a good idea to her, too. She said it fit me and was appropriate for my personality. Whatever &lt;em&gt;that's &lt;/em&gt;supposed to mean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I told my sister. Now, I do love my sister, but as far as people can go, we are polar opposites. Literally. She had a fairy tale wedding with the flowers and dress and church and blah, blah, blah. I hated every minute of it, and as I was the Maid of Honor, a lot fell to me. Yuck. I have had enough wedding like that for my lifetime. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I will leave you with a cliff hanger to see what my sister said/did/heart-attacked about when I told her my plans. I mean come on, we haven't even officially set a date yet. Puh-leze do not make me worry about anything else just yet. But you just wait and see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-7212260936706082598?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/7212260936706082598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-not-classy.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/7212260936706082598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/7212260936706082598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-not-classy.html' title='What Not to Wear'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-6748944775078063763</id><published>2010-03-19T14:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T14:10:29.586-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>Ohhhh, La La</title><content type='html'>Well, I will be off work in a couple of hours (3 hours and 32 minutes as I type this- and no, I'm not counting why do you ask?) and will be on my way to meet MM. He has a big weekend planned for me, so he tells me. I don't know exactly what he has in mind as he tells me it is a surprise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of it I know, like going to look for a place to live. And a couple of errands that he needs to run. The rest is up in the air. I think we might go out for dinner. As I am not familiar with the area all that well, I do not know all the restaurants. We did talk about dinner out a few days ago, so if we do go out, I imagine that we will go to the restaurant that we talked about. He also wants to take me out after dinner to go have a few drinks. I don't know where that will be. I guess we'll see! (3 hours and 30 minutes-I tell you I'm not counting, why do you keep asking?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty sure he has some Hot Sex planned for this weekend too. Hope you don't mind, but if he does (and I do, baby, I do!), I won't be sharing all the details. Well, I might share some, but I promise to keep the graphics out of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope we find someplace this weekend&amp;nbsp;to rent. That will be the first step to getting my ass down there. Yea! Boo if we don't though. We'll just have to look in a couple of weeks then when I can go back. One step at a time. Even though I am impatient and one step at a time annoys me. (3 hours and 21 minutes- I'm NOT counting so stop asking!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, tell me Friendsez, do you have any Hot Plans for the weekend?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-6748944775078063763?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/6748944775078063763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/ohhhh-la-la.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/6748944775078063763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/6748944775078063763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/ohhhh-la-la.html' title='Ohhhh, La La'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-5975838958605099049</id><published>2010-03-16T11:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T11:57:41.261-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>It's Official</title><content type='html'>I talked to my attorney on Friday about moving. He told me that it was a "fabulous" idea. In fact, he told me several times that it was a "fabulous" idea and that it would help my case tremendously. So this weekend I am going down to MM's place and we are &lt;strike&gt;getting it on&lt;/strike&gt; going to look for a place for me to live. Preferably a house to rent. I lived in a duplex and currently in a house and I don't think I could ever go back to apartment living. He doesn't want to either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend I spent the nights with him and the days with my son. Normally I stay with him on Friday night on my way down to see S. Then go get S and get a hotel room for our visit. Then MM comes over Saturday evening and spends the night with me. Mom went with me this time. I don't know about you, but sleeping in the same bed as my SO and mom sleeping in the bed next to us is a little creepy. And totally makes it so we can't get the Sex on. Weird in more than one way to have mom sleeping in the bed next to us. Ick. No thanks. So I hiked my ass on over to his house. It is about an hour and a half away but so worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent time this weekend talking about his military time. It is a lot to take in. We ate some good food that me and mom made at the hotel. Then I totally crashed. But since it was time to change the clocks, my brain would not shut down and I woke up at about 1:30. And did not go back to sleep for fear I would over sleep. Talk about tired all day and night. We had some good conversation, especially considering that it was in the middle of the night and neither of us had had more than a couple of hours of sleep the night before and only a couple of hours of sleep Saturday. I got up and took a shower while he made some breakfast, and then was on my way. It was a good weekend. With MM and with S. I can't wait to get closer so we can spend more time together. This long distance shit is for the fucking birds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really looking foward to getting my ass down there for many reasons. The sooner I get down there, the sooner I can show myself established for court, the closer I am to S and MM, and the sooner I can get &lt;strike&gt;more sex.&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp; moved on in my life. Plus the weather is nicer. It's way warmer down there right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will have a more certain date of moving after today and this weekend. My boss is telling his boss that I am leaving. They will decide whether to keep my job in the office I currently am in, or move it to another office. If they move it, I will not give as long of a notice. If they retain the job in my office, I will stay for a while to train the new person. For a couple of weeks anyway. I figure four to six weeks from now, my shit will get thrown into a moving van and I'll be outta here. Come on four to six weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, tell me interneters, any suggestions on things I need to consider before this long distance move?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-5975838958605099049?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/5975838958605099049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/its-official.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5975838958605099049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/5975838958605099049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s Official'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7901711307739270531.post-6846520403295524365</id><published>2010-03-11T11:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T11:45:17.284-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life&apos;s a bitch'/><title type='text'>Welcome Bitch</title><content type='html'>This new blog will be to chronicle my journey in a new life. Well, it feels like a new life. I will be moving down south, therefore, a yankee transplanted. This will not be a PG rated blog. Probably more like a rated R blog. So if you don't like the "F" bomb, and you don't want to hear gross/inappropriate stories, please don't read this. I don't really want any hate mail. I am giving you fair warning to not read this and just stick with the other one. I will try my hardest to keep both blogs going, and keep at least semi-regular posts on both sites. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you why I am moving. First and foremost to be with the man I love. I have &lt;strike&gt;rambled on&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strike&gt; briefly explained my relationship with MM in my other &lt;a href="http://centralillinoisian.blogspot.com/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt;. I want to move down south so that I may have a long and &lt;strike&gt;sex filled&lt;/strike&gt; blissful life. Ok, I know, he's a man and it will probably only be blissful once in a while, and he works a kajillion hours a week, and is pretty set in his (somewhat old fashioned)&amp;nbsp;ways (like me-though decidedly un-old-fashioned ways),&amp;nbsp;but, hell, I'll take what I can get. It's all been good so far anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second reason is for my son. I will be closer to him while working on bringing him home. Not that it matters how close I am, because I am not allowed to see him any extra right now. My ex "won't" allow it. Soon, it will all blow up in his fucking face, and I can't wait. He will rue the day he crossed me. The bastard. However, moving closer will allow me to&amp;nbsp;offer better visits to the ex when I get custody back. I will be moving about two hours away. That means I can offer every other weekend and let him pick S up on Friday night and bring him back Sunday night, but not have an eight-nine hour drive, just one way. Makes me look like a fucking generous mama when we go back to court. It means that the ex will also be close by when I get custody back. So he can "participate" in activities. Yeah, right. That'll be the day. Or only when he's up to something again. Tricky-tricky. Have to keep a close eye on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third and frivolous. I hate cold weather. I don't like a lot of snow, ice or freezing temps. Now I know that this year has been an uncommonly cold and snowy year for the south. However, this past winter was unusual. Moving south puts me out of the long ass cold winters that never seem to end. And then you get the new spring weather for a week, sometimes even two. Then POW you get slammed with another batch of that cold snowy shit. For like a week. It sucks. I want shorter milder winters from now on. So down I go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is my welcome to my new blog. Welcome, Bitch. There now I can go do something else. Like post on my other &lt;a href="http://centralillinoisian.blogspot.com/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7901711307739270531-6846520403295524365?l=ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/feeds/6846520403295524365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/welcome-bitch.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/6846520403295524365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7901711307739270531/posts/default/6846520403295524365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ontheedgegivemewine.blogspot.com/2010/03/welcome-bitch.html' title='Welcome Bitch'/><author><name>Just call me Yankee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01671355762196074626</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
