I kicked ass and took names....

which I then proceeded to spell correctly...except for Wildebeest...which I spelled W-i-l-d-e-r-b-e-a-s-t...wrong much?  Ya.  I missed out on the $40.00 tab.   Still I won two kick ass bundt (according to K, it's pronounced boont) cakes and two lesbianish golf visors. 

Why the weird face?  Weird, w-e-i-r-d, weird.  Because my friend, Raquel, asked me to pretend that the bundt cakes were my boobs...and that, folks, is what appears to be my "boob" face. 

And, apparently my boob face makes me look like Roger from American Dad.
 

Yup.  Dead ringer.

Oooohhh, guuurl...Shabbat is going to be pissed!

Check it out.

I know.  What a mess.  Look at the shame on Oliver's face.

My apartment was so messy in fact, that I regressed back to my ghetto roots and busted out the Pine-Sol.  You heard me, Pine-Sol...not that weak ass lemon scented shit.  I mean business.

Good thing is that I'm almost done.  I'm working on getting the place nice and spiffy for Shabbat.  For all my new imaginary readers, there's something you should know about me.  I'm Jewish. 

I know.  Shocking.

You know, I was thinking today about one of the traditions regarding Shabbat (besides cleaning the house, of course).  Traditionally the Shabbat is likened to a queen that's coming to visit.  What does one do when a queen comes to visit?  I don't know, I'm the only queen that lives here.  Parum pum. 

Seriously though, what I do is clean up the house, put on the Shabbat table cloth, put out the candles, and buy some flowers.  Oh, and a nice bottle of wine for the Kiddush ( the blessing over wine). 

Shabbat, guuurl, you fine.

There's so much about Shabbat that I'd like to tell you, but I'll keep it simple today.  Gotta go, Bitches.  If Shabbat is a queen, she'll be pissed if I'm not ready for her grand entrance and she'll cut me in my sleep.

A "What The Fuck?" kind of week...

What a week.  Seriously.  I don't really know where to begin.

I guess I'll start with my brother.  He made his way to New Braunfels to attend his aunt's funeral (we're half brothers) and ended up staying for a few weeks.  But, after a while, he started to have problems getting along with his cousin, Jesse.  As my brother tells it, Jesse threatened him with a knife.  So, my brother did the logical thing by tackling him and then beating the shit out of him.  Appropriate, as always, that brother of mine.  In a nutshell, he was kicked out, had only enough bus fare to bring him to San Antonio, and is now staying with me until I can send him back to Lamesa.  He's not a bad house guest, necessarily, other than not having a penny to his name and a voracious appetite. 

Then, on the same day, I get a mass text from my ex that reads as follows: "Hey guys.  I just thought that you should know that my dad's death wasn't accidental.  He was strangled.  Please keep me in your thoughts."
Such a sad thing.  For a while before the break up, my ex's father disappeared.  He sold his house, changed his number, and left with some fundy Christian lady named Rosemary.  So this was just creepy and so so sad...I feel terrible for him.  Both of his parents are gone now.  He said he was having a hard time with it.  I told him to call whenever he needed to but I've not heard from him.  I can't imagine what he must be going through. 

As if that weren't enough, my Jewish friend from Mexico has been having some severe stomach problems for the past month...by severe I mean terrible diarrhea....for ONE MONTH, 10-15 times a day, everday.  She went to the doctor and they gave her an antibiotic which seemed to ease the symptoms a little.  Now, they're back worse than ever and this time there's lots of blood.  She's having tests done and she said she'd let me know what happens.  I'm worried.

SO, I hope next week is a bit more uneventful....

You say that like it's a bad thing...

Sorry I haven't written in a while, I just haven't felt like it.  But, I do now so here goes.

The other day I was at the doctor's office (my eye doctor to be exact) and while he was examining me he called his nurse in to take a look...it wasn't the "I need a second opinion" call or the "I need you to hold the scapula" call.  No, it was the "Oh my God, you'll never believe this" call....yup.  After the bitches took turns gawking at my eyes for like a century, the doctor finally turns to me and says, "You have dirty eye lid margins as a result of poor eyelid hygiene."

What.  The.  Fuck? 

I shave regularly, I shower regularly, I floss and brush my teeth, I even wash behind my ears!  Poor eyelid hygiene?  Seriously?  Am I going to have some Southern Baptist missionary come to my hut and teach me how to properly clean my eyelids who will then try to steal my children and take them to the Dominican Republic?

I didn't know what to feel.  I felt ashamed, confused, worried,and dirty. 

Like my eyelid margins.

Shit.

Oh, and he mentioned something about how I rub my eyes to much.  Pff...he must not know 'bout me.  But it's true.  I do.

And THAT is the reason my contact lenses feel so uncomfortable.  So now I have to use a warm compress every night and then wipe my eyelid margins *snicker* with a special solution.  According to my sadistic son of a bitch doctor, this is temporary and with proper eyelid hygiene I'll be just fine...*sigh of relief* 

Still, I don't think I'll be able to look my eye doctor in the eye again.