Random 5 Monday

Random 5 Monday

Random thoughts.  Five of them.  Because on a Monday, that’s pretty much as good as it gets for me.  The particles that make up my brain matter don’t properly align until somewhere between 9am Monday and 3am Tuesday morning.  It’s weird.  I’m sure it’s a scientific fact.  Somehow.  Anyhoodle… let’s get started, shall we?

1 – Ponytails.  I had a random memory this morning while brushing my teeth.  “Girl, you remember when you used to wear ponytails?”  And I’m not talking like throw your hair up in a ponytail kind of ponytail.  I’m talking go to the beauty supply store, find an actual ponytail that matched your hair color with the little sack at the end of it so you could shove your baby bun into it, cinch up the sack, hide the strings and flip your hair from side to side kind of ponytail.  I’m talking slick your hair back so tight your eyes water and your ears move back about 3 cm.  I’m talking if the black girls can’t tell you’ve got a ponytail in, you are doin’ it right girl!  For real though, if I could get my hair pulled back that tight right now without it causing a migraine I’d get me some dang ponytails again.  Don’t knock it til you try it.  Over the years my hair has developed quite an attitude while it’s also diminishing in volume.  I’ve got like sensitive hair follicles or something.  I’m not sure if that’s a real thing but when I pull my hair down from a ponytail, yanno, the basic white girl ponytail because that’s what I’m limited to these days (and by these days, I mean these decades), it feels like there are little needles breaking off in every strand of hair and I’m slowly killing them.  Like I’m plucking them individually from my head.  It’s painful and soothing all at the same time.

She’s So Basic

PS.  Have you ever tried to take a picture of your ponytail?  It’s like trying to take a picture of your butt.  Probably never done that either, huh?

PSS.  What the heck is wrong with my eyebrow?  But just look at that cute little curly Q.  It’s actually an unbrushed piece of hair that isn’t long enough to fit into the ponytail anyway, which is only half-brushed and half-still moussed from yesterday.  As long as you are focusing on anything other than the second chin, the leftover makeup or the very apparent psychotic look in my eye.

We should continue.  This is getting out of hand.

2 – Speaking of getting out of hand, these migraines and kiss my grits man.  Over the last few years I’ve started getting worse and worse headaches from Hades and I can’t seem to get them under control.  Doctor Lady put me on a Topamax.  Yes, it’s an anti-convulsant used for epilepsy, but it’s also a nerve pain medicine.  And it’s the weirdest thing… if I forget to take this medicine for a few days and start it back up, I go through like two weeks of severe headaches.  Which is what’s happening right this second.  I didn’t get my last prescription filled in time.  Moron.  I preach this to our 23-year-old adult “child” with her epilepsy refills she calls in every month.  Boy am I paying for it.

But seriously, if migraines is a part of aging, I think old people should come with a warning label yanno… like “If Cranky, Could Be Experiencing Migraine”.  It seems the older people get the more cantankerous they become, and I know these head pains are getting worse the older I get, so I’m just putting 2 and 2 together here people.  Old farts are probably just being brats and throwing their food across the room in nursing homes because they need an ibuprofen or maybe an Imitrex.  Maybe it feels like a semi is driving straight through the center of their brain, spiked chains on the tires, and you are over there screaming at them because you think their hearing aid battery sucks but every inch long ear hair they have is screaming for mercy.  Food for thought.  I think I’ll get a tub of clothes ready for my nursing home days ahead and sew some labels on them.  Just in case.

3 – Last night Gavin and I are in the giant man chair.  Seriously, it’s GIANT.  He’s been fussing and fighting his sleep so I brought him back into the living room to play it out.  It’s about 10pm.  I gave him a bottle and he had about 4 of the 6oz.  He’s climbing all over me and yammering in my ear about something.  It seems like it’s really important though because he stops what he’s saying, grabs my face, looks me dead in the eyes… and… HURLS!  Yes, he blew chunks all down my face, chest and right betwixt my boobs folks.  I mean this was the river of spewage that flowed.  I didn’t know what to do but yell.  Like this weird pirate “Arggggggg” sound.  I don’t know where it came from or why.  It’s what happened.  He stared at me shocked.  I’m not sure if he was shocked that his own tiny little body could spew forth such violent chunder or that his grams might start wearing an eye patch and raid his toy chest.  Either way, I quickly picked him up, gently placed him in his walker (let’s be real, he could have been upside down, I’m not entirely sure here) and did a ballerina walk ran to the laundry room like a hippo with a turd hanging out praying it didn’t ooze down my belly and into my pants.  Thank the good Lord above my sports bra was built like Fort Knox and kept that warm, frothy puke all good and smashed in there, squishing around my girls.  So there I was at 10pm, waiting for my hubs to come home from his weekend hunting, thinking I might get lucky, and I’m in the laundry room, half naked using baby wipes to lift up my knockers and clean baby retch from my undercarriage.  Hubba bubba baby… so sexayyyy!  Come get you summa this!

4 – We have lived in this house for a few years and I refused to put anything on the walls in the living room.  Except for Andy’s wall.  He has a Yankees wall.  I thought if I refused to put anything up maybe we will move to our forever home faster.  Don’t get me wrong, I like our house, but it’s just a stepping stone to the country.  I don’t want to live in the city.  I want a goat.  And a garden.  And land.  I hope Andy comes.  Because I really like him.  And he knows how to mow.  I don’t make the lines straight.  Anyway, listen… these walls in the living room.  I finally gave in this weekend and put up a bunch of crap on the living room walls.  Decor and picture frames and what not.  I like to keep the original people in the frames when I get them and hang them that way.  Well… now I’ve got a bunch of fake families on my walls and people are going to ask questions.  I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up with all the lies.  I actually have a history of this, but no one else thinks it’s funny.  Or appropriate.   I make up stories about them.  “Oh that’s my Aunt Georgia and Uncle Stephen, they live in Yemen.  Isn’t their daughter beautiful!”

5 – So what is this crap about Black Friday starting when I’m about to sit down and fix my face to devour a nice plate of turkey and dressing and enjoy some family time?  That’s crap!  Total crap!  First of all this was a stupid shopping day to begin with.  They mark things down on one day that have been marked down all year long on other sales, but because THIS sale is advertised the hardest, you THINK you are getting the best deal.  So you stand out there with other ding dongs at the buttcrack of dawn and treat this like a third-person shooter game, which has even caused REAL LIVE DEATHS people, and all for a $20 toy? Or a $300 gaming system?  Ya’ll cray.  I’m not getting tromped to death for ya’ll to get toys or games for your spoiled little brats.  Don’t get all crash dummy crazy with me in the store and act like you wanna play bumper buggies over a stupid toy.  You. Will. Lose.  And not because I want the toy.  But because I’m C-C-C-CRAZAAAAY, and you don’t get to bully me. (Just kidding, too many people carry guns now and I’m not willing to die over a toy.  And I also don’t want to die in the toy section.  That would be so embarrassing.)

Second, now this stupid tradition is infringing upon the actual holiday weekend with which it shares time.  This stupid shopping day is NOT a holiday.  The actual holiday, yanno the day you’re supposed to be spending quality time with your loved ones, cooking and laughing and making memories… is Thanksgiving day.  Ugh.  Stupid Black Friday has crept it’s way into Thursday and that irks me.  Go back to Friday where you belong.  Jerk.



2 Replies to “Random 5 Monday”

  1. I’ve never seen much bad behavior on Black Friday and if I had even an inkling that I was in a dangerous situation I’d get out of there without whatever toy I was stalking. Because you’re right, it’s not worth getting hurt over.

    1. Right! It’s awful! And I’m certainly not giving up a plate of turkey and dressing and time with my family to go fight in lines and pure chaos. HA! I can do that trying to get to the bathroom at home! Thanks for stopping by! 😉

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