I'm Baaaaack! (With News!)

Wow. I took a much longer break than I intended. I was scared that this would happen. Once I got out of the habit of writing regularly I knew it would be hard for me to jump back in.

I haven't been feeling like myself for the past couple of months, and I think that not writing has had a large part to do with it. There are some other factors too...like a little thing called a BFP. Don't know what that is? Look here:

Yep! I am pregnant! This is an ultrasound picture that was taken at my first prenatal appointment at eight weeks. There is a real live baby in there with a heartbeat and everything!

I am now twelve weeks, and we are officially out and notorious with the pregnancy. My husband and I have both made announcements on Facebook, and you don't get anymore official than that, folks. I would post the picture from our appointment this week, but it's not very good. The baby was moving around so much that it made it difficult for my doctor to take a picture for us to keep.

How cute is that?! My baby was moving, swimming, and flipping around my womb! Ahhh! I could die it's so cute!

Other than the new addition I have no news to report. I made all As in my classes last semester! And since then my days and nights have basically been filled with lots of yawning and talking about how tired I am. I hope that since I'm closing on my first trimester that I will get some energy back. Luckily I haven't had any morning sickness, so I shouldn't complain too much.

I hope now to be writing again regularly. It's always difficult to put the first post up after being out of it for awhile. I've had a few ideas bounce around my head for future posts, so I hope to write them soon!

Time to Take a Break

Okay, remember how I told you guys that things are crazy for me right now with school, work, activities, etc.? Yeah, the crazy train has hit it's peak. Here's what I have going on from now until the end of April:

Lady Gaga Concert
One exam for my Criminal Law class
Two tennis lessons
Five page research essay for my English class (the topic, you ask? Oh, something light...like sexual abuse among women in Native American society.)
A project for my Criminal Law class (again, a light, breezy topic....write a three page paper analyzing the case against cop killer Jaime Hood and write up a five count indictment against him)
Two final exams: one for Criminal Law and another for my Technology in a Law Office class
4 day trip to Savannah, GA
4 day trip to Charleston, SC
And a partridge in a pear tree....

Oh, and the promotion I got at work (with no extra pay, btw) is taking up a lot of my time. I'm loving my new responsibilities, but, holy shit, can a sister get a break around here?!?

I have an obsession with grades. I have to get As. I must have a 4.0 GPA. Since my miscarriage I have developed an obsession with being perfect and a complete aversion to even the slightest failure.

It's bad.

Earlier in the semester I received an 85 on an essay for my English class. It was almost the end of the world:

"It's half way between doing good and failing!" I moaned.

"But my husband said it was an A paper!" I cried.

Yes, I recognize how annoying that is.

But I followed that essay up with a 97 on the next and a 99 on the one after it.

In YOUR FACE Professor! Give me an 85?!? HA! I'll show you!

And if it wasn't for one wayward semi-colon that 99 would have been a 100.

Dammit.

I HATE YOU SEMI-COLON!

Anyway.

This post isn't about that.

It's about this, I need a break. I have to make it through this month somehow, some way, and as much as I hate it I'm not gonna be able to keep up with blogging along with everything else.

My reader has a gazillion unread posts and my Tweet Deck maxed out at a trillion.

I adore the social media world but right now it's over-whelming me.

I love blogging and tweeting so much that it's important to me it stays fun and doesn't become an obligation.

So, I'm taking a deep breath and stepping away for a few weeks.

I'll be back the beginning of May and I'll be blogging, commenting, and tweeting up a storm, I promise.

Please stick with me.

When I return I'm gonna dive back into moving and changing up my blog, so soon everyone will have a cool new place to visit and watch me spew the "F" bomb.

I promise.

Now, I gotta go make those As.

I'm Still Janky and Now I'm Broke

In an effort to be like my too legit to quit friends I have decided to make a change with my blog.

Almost every blog I read is on Wordpress. These blogs have beautiful, custom designs, and easy to read layouts. My blog design is janky. I want a pretty blog that reflects me and I don't want to fit in a standard template of the twenty or so that Blogger offers.

Goodbye Blogger, hello Wordpress!

Since I'm moving I've decided to re-think the blog name. I turned twenty-nine this year. If you suck at math, that means next year I'll be thirty. Is 20-something shenanigans really appropriate for a 30 year old?

I thought I could rock it, like be forever young sorta thing. But, I'm sure after I turn thirty there's gonna be some jackasses in the blog world reminding me that I'm not a 20-something any more. And I'm pretty sure that's gonna piss me the fuck off.

I picture my 30-something self as having a short fuse.

Also, "Shenanigans". Yeah, I dig the word, but it makes me feel like I should write about impish pranks.

Of which, I have none.

Anyway.

So, I came up with a new name! Yay! And I think I dig it!

And I bought a domain with the new name on Word Press!

And I got a Gmail account with my new name!

Go Me!

Except, I'm screwed.

Holy shit. This Word Press thing is HARD y'all.

And not in a good, rock your body, hard either.

I messed with the Word Press themes, some font program, and tons of other shit.

And wanna know something?

It looked like shit.

I checked out the themes other blogs use. I don't have a lot of money to invest so I need something that can be customized by me and won't cost an arm and a leg.

One theme (thesis? design? I have no idea the proper lingo here) that stood out to me was DIY Themes. I looked at their website and watched their tutorial. It seemed simple to use, the installation was straight-forward, and they are known for great support. What could go wrong? I saved my pennies and bought the DIY Theme last weekend. Sweet! I'm in business, right?

No. Not Quite.

Apparently to load DIY Theme I need an FTP client.

Huh? What is FTP?

I do some research and download the FTP Client.

Awesome! Ready to Launch!

No.

I need to know the Host server name or some shit to get the FTP client to work.

Fine.

I spend a jazillion hours googling, "What the mother effin-fuckety-fuck is Word Press's fucking host what-the-eff-ever's name?!?"

Word Press doesn't provide that information, so I have to pay some company to host my blog.

Okaaaaay....

I look into a host and the cost is reasonable, only $4.95 a month for hosting.

Sweet! Sign me up!

I have to select a 12 or 24 month plan. The rates are the same for both.

Whatever.

I select the 12-month rate. Sure, "Host" charge me $4.95 a month for 12 months. I can swing that. I put in my credit card and cha-ching! I look at my receipt, and it doesn't show $4.95.

No.

It shows $59.40.

The ASSHOLES charged me for the whole 12-months upfront!

Fifty-nine Fucking Dollars and Forty Holy-Abe-Lincoln Cents!

OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO KICK SOME HOST ASS!

Deep Breath.

At least I have the info to put in my FTP thing-a-ma-jiggy.

I'll explain the over-draft fee in my personal, play-money bank account to my husband later.

I enter the Fifty-FUCKING-Four Dollar password. In the dumb ass FTP bullshit thing.

FTP connects and I'm in like Flynn!

Hell Yeah!

I go back to my DIY Themes instructions to get started.

Wait.

I have to install Word Press since I'm now "self-hosted".

Jesus Christ.

I figure out how to install the Word Press.

It's installed.

Hallu-fucking-llujah.

Back to my DIY Themes instructions.

Annnnnnnd, the folder I need to start with isn't there.

I have no idea how to get it.

Since accounting is so much fun, let's tally my investment:

Tally of Amanda's Mother Fucking Blog Shit that still Doesn't Work
URL on Word Press: $18.00
DIY Themes: $87.00
Self Host WTF Thing: $59.40 (Assholes)

Total: $164.40

I'm in the em-effing poor house and I have nothing to show for it.

I better find some impish pranks to write about.

Shit.

I Swear I'm not Whining

Sigh.

It's been awhile.

It really has.

I decided a long time ago that I wasn't gonna be one of those bloggers who constantly wrote about being too busy to blog.

But here we are.

I feel a bit conflicted. I have over-committed myself this year and I've wanted to write about how I feel like I'm juggling 3 bowls, 2 apples, a sword, a steak knife, and a can of mace but I haven't had the time and I don't want to sound like I'm whining. However, this is my blog, a place for me to write about what's happening with me so I should just do it, right?

Right.

But then I think about the women I know that work, have kids, go to the gym, and they still manage to post every day. It boggles my mind how they do everything. The things I've got going on are all things I've chosen for myself.

So what's my problem? I decided to do all of these things right? I chose to spread myself too thin.

SO I'm definitely NOT complaining, but, I am so freaking busy and I hate it and love it at the same time. If I can make it through to the end of this month I'll be golden. Seriously.

Last year I started college in pursuit of my paralegal degree. I took two classes last semester and made As in both. Since I did so well that semester I decided this semester I could totally handle three classes along with my full-time job.

Yeah. Three classes is WAY harder to juggle than two. On Mondays and Wednesday nights I go to two classes and I get home around nine. My third class is an internet class, so I have to find time to do it during the week and weekend.

Tuesday night I've been in a bowling league with a group of friends. The bowling league ended last week, so I finally have Tuesday nights free.

On Thursday nights I have my tennis lesson.

So, yeah, this has been my reality for the past few months. I'm taking an English course so I'm writing essays, reading stories and a book for class, and in my Criminal law course I'm studying for exams, trying to memorize crazy ass Georgia laws, and legal jargon.

It's a lot of shit.

And my online course tends to slide to the wayside, so I end up scrambling every week to keep caught up on it.

Top all this off with my work life which has been extremely hectic the past few weeks.

I work for a small company and one of the guys in my department just had his first baby so he has been out for the past two weeks.

And did I mention I'm getting promoted?

Yep, I'm going to be in charge of the department.

It's great news, I'm really happy, and I've wanted it for a long time. But...it feels like one more weight added to my buckling shoulders.

My school semester ends May 2. Please pray that I make it through.

With a 4.0 GPA.

Things I Know

TTC - Trying To Conceive

OT - Ovulation Test

BT - Basal Temperature

BFN - Big Fat Negative

BFP - Big Fat Positive

OT - Ovulation Test

AF - Aunt Flo

These are terms I wish I didn't know. They define the struggle to conceive. Women write these terms on message boards in hopes that their sore boobs and irritability are an early symptom of pregnancy and not a sign of PMS. Last year I was apart of this group.

How many times did I Google, "Early pregnancy signs"? Too many to count.

How many times was it PMS? Every time.

Except once. Surprisingly, that was the one time I didn't take to the internet to analyze my sore boobs.

When I was in school and Sex Ed was taught they made it seem that if you kissed a boy AND he had his hand on your boob YOU WOULD GET PREGNANT.

Bullshit.

They also taught us that you could get pregnant while on your period.

Bullshit.

You could get pregnant while dancing. While singing. If your mom was pregnant! If you used the same toilet as your pregnant neighbor. Pregnant! It's everywhere! Like a virus spreading wildly - watch out!

It's all bullshit.

I now know that there is basically 12-24 hours each month that the stars align and you can get pregnant. Most hit this at day 14 in their cycle. I hit mine on day 18. It's better to try before your "magic day" hits because sperm can live in your body for a few days. Yeah. That's not creepy AT ALL.

If you wait 'til after your "magic day" you're screwed.

Getting pregnant is not as easy as they teach in the schools.

So sleep around girls!

Joking.

Gimme a break. I have five followers.

Thanks to nature I count my life in weeks.

Casey does a good job of explaining it here.

I'm an expert stick pee-er. I've got the technique down.

Pregnancy Test Sticks?

Check.

Ovulation Test Sticks?

Check.

This week I'm going to buy a new pack of ovulation test sticks.

I'm finally ready to start peeing again.

I mean trying again.

Wish me luck.

I'm Grateful (Part 2)

To help me move on from my miscarriage I have decided to take time each day this month to write and reflect on the things which I am grateful. My life is full and complete in many ways and I want to focus on the things which make my life worth living rather than concentrating on what I don't have. For part one click here.

I am Grateful For...

Day 11: The South. I was born in the south and I love it. I love the food, the culture, the weather. Everything. I belong here. The south is in my blood. If I'm lucky I will live here forever. I used to reject being southern but now I embrace it. It's good to belong somewhere.

Day 12: Girl Time. I love girl time. I always say that men need hobbies and women need other women to talk to. When I spend time with my sisters and girlfriends I feel cleansed, refreshed, and like I can take on the world.

Day 13: Spring. I love this time of year. Today is sunny, 70 degrees, daylight savings has started. Gorgeous, breezy spring days make me feel like the possibilities for me are endless.

Day 14: Compliments. I was having a shitty day until a customer I haven't spoken with in over six years called. He remembered me from a previous company I worked at, and told me how happy he was to have found me and that there weren't many people like me left in our industry. Suddenly my shitty day became a great day.

Day 15: Pay Day. It fucking rocks.

Day 16: Diet Coke. Mmmm....sweet nectar of the Gods.

Day 17: Reconciliation. Today I am going to talk to one of my close friends who I have not spoken with in four months. It's been a rocky road but this is the first step to working on things. I'm grateful that we're trying.

Day 18: Vacation Days. Today my husband and I are each taking a vacation day. Our Agenda? Sit outside all day, enjoy the sunshine, watch March Madness games (he borrowed a flat screen T.V. from his office and has it set up outside), drink massive amounts of beer, and play frisbee with our sweet doggy. Cheers!

Day 19: Tennis. I've been taking tennis lessons for three weeks now and my husband and I went and played for an hour today. I've improved greatly over these past weeks and, y'all, I LOVE tennis! Love it! Can't wait to play tomorrow!

Day 20: Maggie. We call her Maggie, Maggie May, Macaroon, Magdalena, but normally she's called Moops. She's my dog and is all waggy tail and sweet eyes. I love that girl.

Opening My Eyes

Last Friday I read a post on Anissa's site where she mentioned a meet-up for bloggers in Atlanta taking place on Saturday.

Hmmm...

It was free, local, AND they had beer.

Hmmm...

I mentioned it to my husband in that way wives talk to their husbands about things they want to do but need the push to make it happen:

"There's like this thing downtown...with bloggers...and I don't know. Maybe I'll go...but I don't have anybody to go with so....I probably won't...and I won't know anyone....but maybe I will....I don't know."

First, my husband was scared that I expected him to go with me. OMG. He might have to hang out with a bunch of women and drink beer at a brewery.

The Horror!

Once I assured him that I definitely did not want him to attend. He came up with an idea, invite Tiff (otherwise known as Beeker and for the record, I'm Shotgun, don't ask, go with it.)

I was hesitant.

This blog is kinda, sorta, really a secret.

Shhhhhhh....don't tell.

I was worried Tiff would be offended that I hadn't shared my blog with her. My husband assured me she would understand. I wasn't sure, so I sent her a 50,000 word, insecure, rambling email which basically said:

"I wanna go because I'm interested in starting a blog...but definitely don't have a blog, so yeah. No blogging going on 'round here. Please, please go with me!" 

I'm sneaky like that.

Tiff replied:

"Jesus, Amanda. What's up with the long ass email? Do something just for you which has nothing to do with me? Uh, yeah, count me in. There's no Shotgun without Beeker!"

Of course she did.

So we went. When we arrived (an hour late) my nerves kicked in. I thought the event would be in a large private room where peeps would be standing and mingling. Maybe a keynote speaker. I don't know. I'm a rookie. Instead, everyone was seated around the corner of the restaurant's entrance at a group of tables.

The first people we saw were Julia Roberts (yeah, really) and Anissa, The Legend. I won't go into all the reasons I love Anissa, I'm sure you love her for the same reasons. After greeting Anissa and Julia we went to take our seat at a table down from them.

This is when things could have been awkward.

The area we were in had four high-top tables with chairs on one side and a shared bench on the other side against the wall. The tables were full and the last table sat by the corner about three feet away from the table next to it.

Shit. We're gonna be the weirdos in the corner.

Tiff and I couldn't decide if we should move the table over or not.

Hi, my name is Amanda watch me move furniture.

I didn't need to worry. The seated ladies told us to move the table over and they squished in to make room. We met Katherine and she was lovely. We met Jana and she was lovely. Then we met Miranda, Lauren, and Stacie, and we met some other bloggers too. Everyone was lovely. A group of lovely, smart women (and a few awesome men too. AHEM.)

It was amazing.

Y'all these women are legit. Like too legit to quit. For reals.

I can't name all of their credentials, but I was out of my league. Big Time.

The best part is that while I was there I had no clue how important these ladies are. None. They didn't talk about it. They didn't have to. These ladies are awesome and secure with themselves so they don't need to read everyone their resume. They listened to Tiff and me ramble, and they laughed at our lame jokes.

I have never felt so welcome and at home.

Brace yourself.

It's about to get even deeper up in here.

After reflecting (yes, I reflect - with my super duper handy dandy thought mirror I reflect. It's kinda a big deal.) about the meet-up I feel there is a deeper meaning to it. I'm not very religous but maybe Someone (God?) was opening my eyes. The ladies I sat with have dealt (and are dealing?) with postpartum depression. Was Someone showing me that if I have a baby it's not necessarily the perfect life I dream of, there may be issues that come along with giving birth, and support is there for me if I need it?

Whoa. That's some serious shit.

There's more.

Miranda. She's totally my sister from another, er, mister. We each had our wedding at the same venue, when planning my wedding, two years ago, I came across her bridal profile on a website. I pored through her photos for ideas and tried to find her email address to ask some questions. I had no luck then, but Saturday she sat across from me. Maybe people come into your life when they're supposed to.

Tiff. Wow. What can I say about Tiff? That I love her? Yes. That she's a true friend? Yes. Tiff has been my rock these past months. Before my miscarriage I thought I knew what friendship was. I didn't. I do now.

Because of Tiff, I know.

We spent most of the weekend together and at one point she jokingly asked:

"So is that best friend spot filled yet? Are you gonna let me fill it?"

I laughed and said, "You already have."

That's the truth. She filled the best friend slot years ago. It took this weekend and this event for me to see it.

Thanks for the meet-up, ladies.

Thanks for being my best friend, Tiff.

I'm Grateful (Part 1)

To help me move on from my miscarriage I have decided to take time each day this month to write and reflect on the things which I am grateful. My life is full and complete in many ways and I want to focus on the things which make my life worth living rather than concentrating on what I don't have.

I am Grateful For...

Day 1: My husband. He is my rock steady Eddie and the love of my life. He centers me and grounds me. He is my heart.

Day 2: My family. They are my support system. I have a loving mom and dad, two sisters that are my best friends, and a whole gaggle of nieces and nephews. My in-laws are awesome and they are there to support my husband and me whenever we need it.

Day 3: My job. I'm glad I have a place to wake up and go to everyday. It may not be the perfect job but it pays the bills. I don't bring my work home with me and I'm not stressed out.

Day 4: Date Night. Tonight my husband and I are going to the movies and out to dinner. I'm grateful that we can afford to do this. I'm grateful that we have the type of relationship where we enjoy doing these things together. And I'm grateful that right now we have the freedom to do it.

Day 5: Rainy Days. I'm grateful for rainy days like this one that allow me to lie around doing nothing guilt-free!

Day 6: Weekends. This has been my favorite kind of weekend. No schedule. No agenda. Spending time with my husband and dog. Laughing, eating good food, drinking cheap wine. Being in love.

Day 7: Common Sense. Some folks have zero common sense. Thank God I have at least some common sense. I probably don't have enough but I'll take the little I have.

Day 8: School. I am currently attending college in pursuit of my Associates degree in Paralegal studies. I am grateful that I have the opportunity to do this so that I can make a career change.

Day 9: Nanay. We call my husband's grandmother Nanay (it's Filipino for mother) and she is leaving the U.S. next month. She has taught me much about loving and nurturing people. I will miss her so but am happy that I had the opportunity to spend time with her and to love her.

Day 10: Cooking. Over the past few years I have developed a passion for cooking and I'm pretty good at it! Last night I made homemade shepherd's pie from scratch, without a recipe. I look forward to the day that I have kids and they brag to their friends about their mom's home cooking.

So I Blocked Her Ass

Here's the thing. I have a past.

Some could say a checkered past.

Relax, I'm not a god damn fugitive. At least not yet.

Let's just say I did some shit when I was a teenager that I am not proud of. I could go into the reasons why and all that, but I don't have the time and you don't have the interest.

Trust me.

Okay, so I had some issues as a teenager and did some rebellious shit. I did stuff like hitchhiking to Florida for a week. Totally normal, right? When I turned eighteen I got in my car, drove away from my bullshit small town, and left everything behind. I started a new life and became a different person. It probably wasn't as dramatic or poetic as I made it seem, but it was to me at the time.

I don't remember people from high school. I'm not nostalgic about high school. I hated myself as a teenager. My teenage years were filled with self-loathing, loneliness, and bull shit. And those people in high school were assholes. I am much happier now and I do not spend time waxing nostalgic about the good ol' days. These are the good ol' days to me. Right Now. This Second is Fucking Awesome.

You dig?

Now we have Facebook. And I love Facebook. Don't think I'm over here dogging out the Facebook. It's not like I'm "The Social Network", y'all. Speaking of that movie...a lil' heavy handed, no?

Facebook.

Or, as I call it, "Omigod I know I was a total asshole to you in high school but guess what you're fat now and I'm still totally high school skinny and I have three perfect kids and stay at home while my husband has an awesome job and OMG how did you get so fat you don't have a baby and why haven't you had any kids yet? OMG you ARE a loser! Just like I knew you would be! And now I can bring up a bunch of embarrassing shit you did when you were in high school so everyone will know what a loser you were and still are! And OMG my life is so fucking awesome just like I knew it would be! Holy shit let's be friends now because you shared four miserable years of me being an asshole to you. And now we have the rest of our lives for me to be an asshole to you! OMG! Isn't this fucking amazing?!? Omigod!"

Or something.

I created my Facebook page and did not put my high school on there. But these people from high school find you. They do. They are like the god damn CIA these people. I accept them, because, well, I wanna see their pics, of course. And it would be rude not to accept them. And I (unlike them) am most definitely not an asshole.

My activity on Facebook is fairly benign. Unlike most I do not spend it updating everyone on my health woes and I don't use it as a forum to congratulate myself on my many many accomplishments. I mainly post generic musings or excitement over upcoming events. My parents are on Facebook, my in-laws are on Facebook, my co-workers are on Facebook, so I don't have any need to air my dirty laundry on The Facebook.

That's why I have this blog.

When Rachel, a girl from high school, friend requested me I accepted her. Again, I'm not an asshole. Rachel and I weren't great friends by any means. She was friends with my best friend Andy and the only memory I have of Rachel is that she dated a boy named Jeff and they would meet at Andy's house and have sex in his mom's guest bedroom. And when they got done Andy would always make them wash the sheets because they were soaking wet because Rachel would squirt on the bed.

Yeah. She was a squirter.

A few weeks ago Rachel, the squirter, randomly posts on my Facebook wall:

"Remember that time we went to the mall and met those weird guys and they took us to Gadzooks and we modeled bathing suits for them? We looked fucking sexy then didn't we? I forget sometimes how hot we were. LOL."

On my public Facebook wall she posts this shit. I have zero recollection of this event happening and even if it did happen it's not the sort of thing I want my mother-in-law reading about.

WTF.

So, I deleted the comment. Of course I deleted the fucking comment.

Friday I posted this status on my Facebook page (get ready, it's some earth shattering shit I post on The Facebook):

"Okay FB peeps, I need some help here. When I was growing up in the summer sometimes we would string up a badminton net in our front yard (classy, I know). BUT we didn't call it badminton. We called it something else. Is there a southern slang word for badminton? What is it?"

I received about ten comments on this post (none of them being the right answer, by the way) and The Squirter chimes in:

"All I know is when we played in those weird dudes' backyard that lived in your neighborhood we called it badminton, but it was really called flirting. LOL"

Again, no recollection. I'm positive this never happened.

WTF is her problem?
So, I did what any reasonable person would do. I deleted her ass from my friends list and blocked her. Ha ha Squirter! Who's laughing now??

Last night I told my husband this story and I asked him if he thought I over-reacted. His reply?

"You always over-react."

So I ask you, internet peeps, was my response reasonable and justified? What would you have done?

Single White Stylist

Here's part two of my stylist story, for part one click here.

I like to say that this is when she went all "Single White Female" on my ass, but I've never seen Single White Female, so if it doesn't apply just pretend it does. Mmmmkay?

Don't be an asshole.

*Ring*

*Ring*

I grab my cell phone and see an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Amanda?"

"Yes, who is this?"

*Huge Sigh* "This is Michelle"

"Who?"

"Michelle your hairstylist! Don't you remember me?!?"

Oh shit.

"Oh yeah of course I do. Um, How's it goi-"

"Listen. I've quit the salon. Me and Tanya are opening our own place down the road and you need to come see me. Don't go back to the other place. Leslie is a bitch and she screwed me over so you better come see me at the new place."

I should point out that I have no idea who the fuck Leslie and Tanya are. It was my first time at the salon when I visited Michelle and I didn't even know her name, the name of my own professional stylist. She was too busy bitching me out and telling me about baby daddy drama to introduce herself or to fill me in on the latest happenings at the salon. So, yeah. WTF.

"Um, yeah. Okay. I'll call you and make an appointment."

NOT.

"Well I got my book right here so let's go ahead and make it now. Tanya wants us to get full books so we can show those bitches that they screwed with the wrong people. How about Saturday at 11?"

It had been maybe three weeks since she had done my hilights. I'm doing good if I can scrape up the money to get my hair cut and hilighted every twelve weeks. So every three weeks?! Um. No. Ain't happening. Ever. And besides, wouldn't that be bad for my hair? Shouldn't she be concerned about over processing my luscious locks? I mean, she's a god damn professional y'all.

"Yeah, that's not gonna work. Lemme look at my schedule and get back to you okay?"

"Fine. Make sure you call back. You can't screw your hair up again after I put all that work into it, ya' hear? And if you don't get in my books Tanya's gonna be pissed. I told her I could depend on you."

And by screwing up my hair she means, ya' know, growing it.

"Mmmmkay...."

And we hang up. An hour goes by and my phone rings again. It's her. I don't answer. She leaves a message:

"Amanda, it's Michelle. How long does it take you to check your schedule? *sarcastic laugh* I'm filling up fast so I need to know when to put you down for. Hurry and call me. Today."

The next day I receive another message:

"You forgot to call yesterday. Call me as soon as possible. It's important that you call. We need to talk."

Two days later:

"Amanda it's Michelle. Call me."

Then a day later:

"What the fuck!"

One week later:

"Hey Amanda, sugar. Girl, we need to talk. I don't know why you're not answering your phone. If you've been talking to Leslie don't believe a word of it, honey. You know my work is good and I want to fix your hair. I did good last time by you and it's only fair that you give me my due. If there's something wrong all I ask is that you talk to me. I just changed places and I can't be losing my regulars. We ain't even off the ground yet and you're doing this to me. Tanya's upset and I can't eat thinkin' about you bein' mad at me. Gimme a call, sugar. We'll work it out."

That was the last message I received from Psychopath Michelle. But she kept calling. She called me 17 times after the last message. I think she knew that when she had to be sweet the battle was lost. She probably kept calling so she could cuss my ass out. Sadly, she never had the pleasure.

So what did I do?

I went back to the salon and had the owner, Lesley, do my hair.

Leslie has been my stylist for two years.

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one...

Limbo

I'm in limbo.

I was pregnant but I don't have a child.

I have a best friend but we're not speaking.

Because I had a miscarriage.

Because I failed.

Because I needed her.

I bought her a birthday present in November but I can't send it.

And I can't return it.

I bought her soon-to-be-born baby some gifts.

They sit in my car, half way between being returned and sent.

I want to stand on one side or the other. But I'm stuck in the middle.

One side I choose me.

The other side I betray me.

Which is the right side?

I wish I could stop hurting but I can't.

I wish I could make it all go away but I can't.

How do you break up with your best friend?

She was in my wedding, so I can't cut her out of my life.

Right?

She was my forever friend.

She is my forever friend? I don't think so.

Not anymore.

I think.

I'm in limbo.

Why?

Why did I fail to deliver my first child?
Why did I completely fail as a woman?
Why can't I get over this miscarriage?
Why do I say that I'm not ashamed about having a miscarriage when I actually couldn't be more ashamed?
Why wasn't my best friend there for me?
Why can't I focus on what I have rather than what I don't?
Why can't I be a better wife, sister, daughter, friend, and aunt?
Why do I have so much self-doubt?
Why do I feel one way one day and completely opposite the next?
Why can't I trust my own emotions?
Why am I not a better student?
Why am I not a better writer?
Why can't I be honest in my writing?
Why am I so scared?
Why can't I let go of my best friend and focus on the people that were there for me?
Why do I still think about her?
Why can't I move on?
Why did I pick her to be in my wedding?
Why did I think of her as a sister?
Why doesn't she pick up the phone and make things right?
Why did we have to get pregnant at the same time?
Why can't I celebrate her new marriage with her?
Why can't I be there for her with her pregnancy?
Why can't she be a good friend to me?
Why doesn't she care about me?
Why did I buy things for her baby?
Why can't I send them?
Why is it that I can't let go of this relationship?
Why can't I be better?

The Good News is I Don't have Lice

I arrive at the hair salon for my full hi-lights appointment at 9:00 a.m.. I'm pleased that, for once, I'm on time. It's my first time visiting this salon; two days prior I had an appointment at the salon across the street, but it was a shit hole with a weirdo hairdresser where I had to commit the "sit and dash" (I sat in her chair, she freaked me out, and I left before she got one hand on my luscious locks), so I was a little nervous. The receptionist is young with a trendy hair-cut and she greets me warmly. She tells me that my stylist is running late and offers me some water and gives me a magazine to read while I wait.

It's a small salon that's in the newly built downtown area of my town, a growing suburb of Atlanta. I'm a sucker for trendy salon names, particularly ones with numbers, and this one is aptly named to my liking. It's minimally decorated: everything is black and white with a few pops of lime green. The last place was decorated like Carmella Soprano owned the joint, so I'm feeling encouraged about my visit. It doesn't bother me that my stylist is running late. I'm always late and normally wouldn't make an appointment so early on a Saturday morning as I'm usually chilling in Hangover City at this time.

Ten minutes later my stylist breezes in, she's about 5'7", blonde hair piled messily in a high ponytail with a scrunchie (yes, a scrunchie), thin, wiry, with lines of hard-living creasing her face. She's probably 32 but the hard-living makes her look 45.

She walks over to greet me, "Did you get my message?!?"

"Um, what?"

She rolls her eyes in frustration, "I left you a message telling you not to come until 9:15."

"Uhhhhhh, I left my phone at home, sorry."

She leads me to the chair and puts her hands in my hair. I guess Tabatha Coffey would call this my "consultation". Immediately I can tell something is wrong. I look in the mirror and as her hands are going through my hair she's super frowny faced and deeply concentrating. It's been awhile since my hair has been hi-lighted, and by the way she is assessing my hair I think the worst:

Shit! Fucking lice!

She remains silent as she looks through my hair. She's deliberately scrutinizing my head of hair.

Jesus, now I'm going to have to wash everything. I wonder if Febreeze removes lice....

Probably. I'll just Febreeze everything. 

She's still silent.

I guess I'll be performing a lice check on the husband tonight. *Sigh* Well, I'll have to pick up some rubber gloves and a pencil. Do we have a lice checking stool for him to sit on?

The stylist is now extremely frowny faced as she contemplates my hair situation.

Probably not - we don't have shit. Something else I'll have to get. If I get it at Goodwill will it have lice on it? Hmmm....I guess the Febreeze will take care of that too....

Finally, Confucious the stylist say, "You have a lot of hair."

I don't respond. I just look at her.

What the fuck? My hair is thick, but it's not like a bush and it's not down to my god damned feet.

At most, it's an inch past my shoulders.

She continues, "You didn't say you had this much hair when you made your appointment."

"Um, Okay."

Normally I don't act like this much of a little bitch with people, but she is scary. Hard-living, redneck, don't give a fuuuuuck, whoop your ass scary. And I do give a fuck. Also, I had already done the sit and dash across the street a couple of days ago.

What can I do? Sit and dash all over town?

She continues to tell me that she doesn't know if she's going to have time for my full hi-lights.

Because you were late??

She informs me that apparently she's a god-damn Michalengelo in the hair world 'cause she's extreeeeemely particular about her hi-lights and I should have mentioned over the phone that I had a lot of hair.

Suuuure.

Finally, after much intense frowny-faced deliberation, she decides that she will graciously hi-light my bushman, freak-ass, Elvira, hair even if it makes her run over schedule.

Thank God. This lady is like Mother Theresa.

While she applies my hi-lights she treats me to a constant bitch-fest about my hair. She also tells me about a dream she had where she felt like she was drowning and fills me in on her child support woes with her ex.

You know, small talk.

She finishes applying the hi-lights and lets me sit and "process". She informs me that while I sit she's going to grab some breakfast and will be back in 30 minutes.

WTF.

She returns, thank God, and washes the hi-lights out. On the way back to the chair she complains that her arm will be sore all week from blow-drying all my hair. I laugh awkwardly, I mean what the hell else can I do?

"Don't laugh, it's not funny!"

Mmmmmkay.....

Finally she finishes blow-drying my hair (complaining the entire time) and brings me up front to check out.

She engages in a converstaion with the receptionist about which price level to bill me, the stylist looks at me and witheringly says, "With all that hair she has - Level 3".

I pay the receptionist Level 3 price, and as I'm walking out the door the stylist stops me.

"You haven't booked your next appointment!"

"Oh?"

"You better come back in six weeks and do partial hi-lights. You can't let yourself go again after all that work I put into you."

"Um, sure...."

"And don't you dare cancel it!"

Yeah bitch what the fuck ever...

"Okay".

So, I schedule another appointment, fully intending to cancel it and leave.

TO BE CONTINUED.......
Bitch goes all Single White Female on me...in Part Two.

Taking Care of Bi'ness!

Happy Valentines Day Y'all!!!! ♥

I have officially been doing stuff! Stuff that, I hope, will make me a better person. I'm putting things into action. Finally! I'm actually focusing on things I'm doing and not thinking about what hasn't been done. I'm feeling great.

I'm not saying, "I'm going to..." anymore. I'm saying, "I WILL!" No more gonnas...that's the key.

So to keep this positive train a-going I'm gonna recap my successes this week/weekend:

1. I have been writing regularly on this blog!!! Hell yeah!!!

2. I quit Facebook! I've been bored with Facebook lately. I remember how fun and interesting Facebook was when I first joined and it has turned into a grind. I found myself checking it constantly throughout the day without thinking or realizing how often I was doing it. Also, it seems like there are only a few types of people posting on Facebook: Those that pat themselves on the back, sick people, "Other Worldly Types" (you know the type - the guy that posts statuses which make no sense - ex. "Sun = Black Hole. Wow"), and DRAMA TYPES! Um, yeah, no thanks. Speaking of drama I had tons of FB family drama last week, which made me feel like I was being pulled in different directions so finally I said, "Fuck it", and deleted my account altogether. It's been awesome taking a break from ol' Facebook. I'm sure I'll go back but I want to see how long I can stay away.

3. I've been having some issues with a good friend of mine. We've exchanged a couple of emails regarding these issues and have been trying to resolve them. It's been my turn to reply to her email and I've been sitting on it for about two weeks. Mainly I've been mulling over the right things to say. Friday I decided that it had been on my mind long enough and I wrote her back. It was tough and emotional but I did it. I want to move on, move ahead, and I can't have these lingering issues in my life anymore. I feel like I've done what I can with the relationship, so now it's in her court. We'll see how it goes....

4. Okay, I am soooo proud of this one!! Ready??? I bought a tennis racquet, played some tennis with my sweet husband, AND registered for my tennis lessons! How awesome is that?!? I was working on schoolwork last night and I got stuck on some problems so I decided to take my dog for a walk. Since I had just purchased my racquet earlier that day my husband suggested that we go hit some tennis balls instead. We did and it was a BLAST! I am sooooo excited to begin taking lessons next month!

5. I ate crappy this weekend but there were times that I made some good choices. I went to Chattanooga with my parents, sister, and her kids on Saturday. When we were leaving my house we stopped at Chick-fil-a to grab a "snack" for the ride. Everyone ordered combos but I ordered a Kids Meal 1 Count Chicken Finger meal. Then, when we were at lunch instead of ordering chicken fingers or a pizza I ordered bruschetta. These are small steps, but I'm happy I'm making steps whether they be big or small.

6. Yesterday I planned on cleaning our bedroom, catching up laundry, and changing the sheets. My schoolwork took longer than expected so I didn't get a chance to clean the room but I did everything else. I'm happy that laundry is caught up and put away - it makes the workday mornings so much smoother when laundry is taken care of, so I'm celebrating that!

Tonight is Valentine's Day and I'm sure my dear husband is going to have an awesome dinner waiting on me when I get home from class. I love that man. Tomorrow night we're bowling, and I have to work on a paper afterwards. BUT after I get home from class on Wednesday we will go hit some tennis balls again! I think tennis might just be my thing, y'all!

2nd Year

***Over the course of the year I will be writing posts devoted to chronicling my 2nd year of marriage. On our anniversary I will use these posts for a letter to my husband.***

This past weekend we stayed in a cabin by ourselves for the first time. Saying it was a great time would be an understatement. I felt connected and positively in love with you the entire weekend. I'm glad we take the time to make our relationship a priority. I'm glad we're friends. You were incredibly sweet to me on my birthday. You knew I wanted a chocolate chip cookie cake and you ran out to make that happen. Not an easy feat when we're in the mountains. You told me that I shouldn't wash the dishes because it was my birthday. Your heart is huge and your love is vast. I have a lot to learn from you. It was awesome that we we could bring Maggie to the cabin. What a sweet girl. She has made our lives so full and when people comment on what a great dog she is I know that she is a reflection of our love and commitment. It makes me excited to have kids. I can't wait to be the mother to your children.

I will make you proud.

Do-Do....

I was a member of Weight Watchers for awhile last year and during one of my converstaions with the meeting leader she said something that stuck with me, "It's not what you don't do. It's what you do do." Hmmmm....this week I keep returning to that simple phrase.

I've gone through a really difficult time these past two months. And I haven't realized howdepressed I was until recently when I've finally been feeling like I'm pulling out of it. I'd like to say that I'm back to normal but that's not exactly true. I feel higher than normal. I feel like...um...(pardon the cheesiness) like the past few months it's been all gray days with small bursts of sunshine. Now I feel like the sun is shining all day long with a rainbow, happy monkeys, laughing babies, confetti, and shit. Okay. Maybe not THAT great. But I'm feeling good. I was supported by some really great people these past couple of months and I want to shower them with love. I want to grab on to them and hold them tight and let them know how much they mean to me. I don't know if I could have made it without them. Seriously. I've got some amazing people in my life. An awesome support system.

Any-hoo. With all of this happiness and positivity I'm feeling I feel like I can do anything. I'm not thinking about the stuff I'm not doing or haven't been doing. I'm thinking about the stuff I AM doing. And now I'm thinking about what I CAN do. I like it.

I recently wrote an essay for my English class. I was nervous about it. I had not written an essay in years and I wasn't sure I even knew WHAT an essay was anymore. I wrote my essay at work, looked over it a few of times and changed some things, then the night before it was due I spent about an hour on it polishing it up. After I turned it in and as I waited for my grade I was sure I got a C or worse on it. It had to have a thesis. "What the hell is a thesis?" I thought. I didn't think mine had one. I got my essay back...I got a 95. Sweeeeeeeet.

I had a Criminal Law exam on Wednesday. I studied during my lunch hour on Tuesday, but had planned to also study Tuesday night. Instead, I ended up hanging, talking, and drinking with my friend until midnight on Tuesday. I had thirty minutes to study for the exam on Wednesday. I was nervous. I thought I might do really bad on the exam. I went to take the test and it had forty questions. I finished it in 15 minutes. I knew that shit. I think I may have gotten one question wrong. Maybe.

I am doing stuff, y'all!

I'm gonna sign up for tennis lessons. I'm going to learn how to play tennis. I will do it. Why the hell shouldn't I?!?

I have discovered through going to school and making good grades that if I just do something and put the time in I can succeed. I may not always apply all of my possible effort, but if I do what I can do and not pressure myself to be 100% perfect all the time I can be pretty damn successful.

I can lose weight. I CAN do it. I just have to start DOING it. I don't wanna focus on the cookies I ate yesterday (daaaaamn...they were good!) I wanna focus on today and what I am doing right today. I just want to grab the reins and do everything that I've been wanting to do but haven't. So what if I fail? I have a strong support system and they'll catch me.

I'm ready.