It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

When one of your best friends offers you a good time by putting up a Christmas tree and drinking wine you don't turn it down. I got out of my car at my fiancee's apartment complex to find pine needles leading me straight up to her apartment. Shaking my head, I knocked on the door. I walked in to find a huge 8ft tree in the corner of her living room placed where I had recommended. I still have no clue how her and her boyfriend got this tree up her stairs, but you will understand that in a minute.

I look over at her decorations and see an abundance of things on her counter including some deco mesh ribbon that I had never used before, but convincingly communicated would be easy to put up. Well, that was the first thing I was wrong about. That shit sucks. You twist it one way and it twists another and it doesn't wrap as easily as garland. The second thing I was wrong about was the placement of the tree in the living room. It was waaaaaay to close to the window. In theory, having a christmas tree next to a window is a fantastic suggestion, but when you have pesky cat and stupid irritating mesh to wrap, the notion is dull-witted.

How do people do this shit?

We pull the tree a few inches away from the window as to wrap the ribbon in a decorative fashion. I maneuver one arm into the tree trying to grab something solid as branches and pine needles continuously poke me in the face. I somehow get my other arm in while my love is on all fours grabbing the bottom of the tree. "One, two, three, PULL!" The tree moved 2 inches. Quickly exhausted from our tree pulling workout, the fiancee decides to just throw the ribbon around to me in the small space we created between the tree and the window. 

All the while, the cat is sitting in the window watching our shenanigans go down. I decide that the ribbon wrapping is horrendous and suggest googling how to do it when is see a beautiful tree on Pinterest. At this point my fiancee is completely over it and just wants the ribbon to hang straight down from the tip down. I look at her annoyed with her defeated attitude, tell her to proceed with her idea, step back from the tree and tell me if that remotely looks pretty. She concedes and allows me to study the picture to create the perfect tree. 

The inspiration tree

We finally get the ribbon right and decorate the tree...in the front. There was no room for us to reach the back of the tree so we instinctively decorate the side that everyone who walks in the house will see. Half way through, we start to admire our work. In the midst of our adoration the tree begins to fall. I run over and stick my arms back in that tree and almost poke my eye out with a branch of needles. We immediately blame the cat as he conveniently created a distance from the tree and himself during the plummet. 

We push the tree back up and think that the ornaments must be making the tree heavy on one side. After further inspection, we decide that the tree is being pulled by the lights that were being pulled taught against the wall. I hold the tree up and the fiancee goes to her closet for an extension cord. Boom, bam, pow. The girl almost loses her life from trying to get a box from the top of the closet. She brings the cord over and holds the tree while I unplug. TIIIIIIMBERRRRRRR! The only thing holding that tree up were the cords. Fuck. 

With my face itching I say:

We have to move the tree. 

Why?

Because it isn't going to stay here.

Right now? Where?

Yes. When else did you want to do it. Over there. *points across room*

The tree is heavy!

We can do it.

*sighs and thinks about the tree falling on her flat screen if it isn't moved* Ok.

With my brilliant plan in place we prepare the room for tree hauling. We take our positions with me getting pulling from the top and the fiancee pulling from the bottom. "One, two, three, PULL!" "One, two, three, PULL!" "One, two, three, PULL!" We weren't even half way across the room. I reposition myself lower on the tree. "One, two, three, PULL!" "One, two, three, PULL!" At this point I scream in pain because a snowflake was impaling my ankle and my legs were wrapped in Christmas lights. My poor fiancee had red knees from carpet burn. A few more feet to go and we push that bad boy to its new home. 

There was water and needles all over the floor, glitter all over our bodies and ribbon in my love's hair. We let the tree go and lo and behold this pain in my ass tilts over. The most innovative and brilliant idea then enters the brain of my green-eyed friend and she scurries away to implement it while I once again, hold the tree. I see her with a biology book, she opens it half way and tells me to tilt the tree. I do as I am told, but alas, I am not strong enough to tilt it as far as she needs. She says more and I gain a wider stance and tilt some more. Unsatisfactory. I have to tilt some more. With the tree feeling like it is horizontal in my now itchy arms, she shoves her book under the stand. 

Finished product!

Finally. a tall steady tree! I step back and admire our work. I look over to the other pretty girl in the room and say, "You're gonna have to get some presents to cover that up." She laughs and replies, "I have a tree skirt." Our tree came out more than perfect and with all the work that went into it, it better have. We turned off the living room lights to enjoy the glow and poured big glasses of wine. We put up a my tree the next day. I've never appreciated my fake 6-foot tree so much. Fifteen minutes and we were done. I am already so over Christmas. 

Five Rambling Facts That My Facebook 'Friends' Don't Know About Me

I don't get into Facebook games. I quite frankly find them annoying, however, the things you may not know about me game was interesting. I actually learned some cool facts about people, but like I said, I don't do games on Facebook so I will play on this post.

Shit that no one cares to know, but out of sheer boredom you will read to find out anyway:

1. I once got paid $400 by Felix Jones to take a shot of something that knocked me on my ass until 5 O'clock the next afternoon. 
• It was his birthday and he said he would pay some girl $400 to take a shot. I looked around the room and realized I was the only one who went to college and accepted the challenge based on my experience in shot taking. After standing in line behind some women who immediately spit the unknown shot out, I was told that I should take a double shot. I confidently did so and don't remember anything else about that night except for the burn I felt in my chest. I woke up at home around 5pm the next day richer than I started. 
2. I don't like being touched. In fact, hugs freak me out and hand holding makes me sweat with nervousness. 
• I'm not sure why I don't like to be touched but my closest friends know this little fact about me. We had to go camp before clinic in school where we did a trust fall after telling some deep down secret of ours that usually ended in tears. We were all hot and sweaty as we were outside in DFW and it was my turn to fall. I did so and all of the catchers surrounded me for a group hug...all but Molly. My staff doctor told her to go give me a hug but she refrained telling him that I did not like them. I never appreciated her more as I tried to wipe off the sweaty hebegebees from being hugged by my classmates. 
3. The most invaluable gift that I ever received was a power drill.
• My roommate and I just moved into a small house and wanted to put up curtains in her room. We were unsure of how to do this as our last place of residence already had curtain rods installed above the windows. We were screwing our lives away (that's what she said) with no luck of the screw ever going into the wall. So I called a man of course to borrow some braun and bugged him on a daily basis to help us. To avoid helping he just bought me a power drill and left it at my doorstep. We still didn't know that we had to drill holes into the walls first so he ended up  doing in anyway and I still use that drill to this day.
4. My most outrageous dream is to move to Australia and own a Koala. 





Koala drinking bottled water. Cuteness overload


5. I have a sister who is 11 years younger than me and is the only person that I trust to keep a secret. 
• I got my bellybutton pierced when I was 18 just because my mom told me that I wouldn't. My dad threatened that if I got a piercing (belly or ear) he wouldn't pay for college (HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLO scholarship). I showed my sister who was 7 at the time and made a child promise not to tell our dad. Surprisingly she never told my dad, I became a better role model, and we still giggle about that secret to this day. 

Potty Mouth

I hate public bathrooms. I can't stand them. Bacteria, pee, smells, blood (nasty women), poop... I just shuddered typing these words. I hate public restrooms.

I hate public restrooms so much that my first few months in Dallas, I refused to use the loo while on campus. My bladder was about to burst every time I arrived home after being at school from 7am to 5pm and sitting in traffic on loop 12. It got to be such a problem that I ended up with a urinary tract infection that I didn't know I had.

I was just nauseous and my back kind of hurt. I couldn't hold my head up I felt so sick. When I finally drove myself to a doctor I was given the bad news that I had a pretty bad infection and it was starting to effect my kidneys. The doctor lectured me about my wiping habits (as if I didn't know how to wipe after 24 years), peeing before and after doing the deed, and more relevantly, not holding my urine in my bladder for hours. She just didn't get it. I took microbiology in high school (shout out to Mr. Jones), college, and grad school. Has she never done those swabbing experiments? The things that grow on those petri dishes. *gags*

To make matters worse, my parents owned a cleaning service. I remember them inspecting a bathroom in a public library to see if their employees were properly doing their job. A black light does not belong in a bathroom. Just trust me on that one. And guys, seriously...is peeing on the walls absolutely necessary? Have you not learned to aim that thing yet? It has only been attached to you for, uhhh...I don't know...your whole life?

With all this said, I will use a public wash room if I absolutely, necessarily have to. But trust me, jumping a curb with my car to be behind a bank and pissing in the grass behind my car door guarding my assets will always take precedence over a public restroom (one of my prouder peeing moments...sadly) Once, at a rugby game in Ft. Worth, I had to pee like a Russian race horse (which by the way still makes no sense to me). We were at a public park and I knew that I would have to use a public restroom at some point especially because I started drinking at 10 that morning. To my surprise they only had porta potties. I had never used one nor was I planning to but this was a completely open field and I wasn't going to make it to the nearest restroom. Needless to say, I came out of the potty crying like a baby because my experience was so bad.

By now I have lost half of you, wondering what the fuck is this post actually about? Well, now that I live with kids and do shit with kids, and kids...especially girl kids have to use the restroom a lot, I do the public John more than I'd like. I know God put me in this situation because he thought it would be a comedy; I'm sure it is.

Cue toddler potty stories. 

When I graduated from school, Harleigh only wanted to spend her few short hours with me. That included going to the latrine. It definitely wasn't the best experience taking her to the bathroom in Twisted Root. I did however have a very proud moment when she lifted up her foot to flush the toilet. I don't know where she learned it or who she learned it from, but I appreciate a germaphobe. My happiness did not last long though as I saw her long flowing hair get closer to the toilet bowl. She lost her balance and I catch her. Oh. Em. Gee that could have been bad. We're gonna have to remember to wait until we are older to do that. 

Once we took the girls to the circus when it came to town and it was quite an interesting experience. First, I don't remember the circuses I've been to very well, but I am pretty sure that they weren't a Mexican talent show. I was so confused by what was happening. Harleigh told her mommy that she needed to go the bathroom, but she was clearly not in the mood to take the 3 year old in a pull-up on that journey. Annoyed I told her to come on. We walked up a gajillion stairs and went swiftly to the bathroom as to not miss too much of the show.

Before we walk in, I remind myself that the CenturyLink has some of the cleanest restrooms in town. Not only is that a fact, but there were no obnoxious drunk people there to miss the toilet or puke on the seats. I walk the small human being to the closest stall and when I get into the stall I realize how claustrophobic I am. There is just not enough room in those things for 2 people. Small or not. I bend down to help her with her pants and realize I am eye level with a public toilet. I just need to move as quickly as possible.

She gets on to the seat. Shit. I didn't think about that. She had to use her hands. Her hands have now touched hundreds of "Ratchet City's" nasty asses. I can't wait until she is tall enough to teach her to hover. She sits there and talks to me proceeding to put her hands on her face. "NO!" I scream. She's shocked. I said, "We don't touch our face in the bathroom." Dodged a nasty bullet there. She finishes up and goes to flush the toilet. Oh God No. I told her I could handle it and lifted my foot to flush the toilet and get out of that stall as swiftly as possible.

I lift baby girl up to wash her hands. She turns the knob, gets soap, and rubs her hands for 0.6 seconds. You're supposed to rub your hands through your ABC's. Totally unsatisfactory. She then turns the knob off putting those ass germs back on her hands. Sigh. She runs over to the paper towels, dries off her hands and is proudly ready to leave. I grab her arm. Say, "hold on", pull out my pink and glittery hand sanitizer and teach her a lesson on OCD. 

Baby on Board

A few Sundays ago I came home from a disappointing Saints watching to puke 5 times in the bathroom. I was absolutely miserable. I sat up... wanted to vomit. I curled up... wanted to vomit. Shit. I tried to call for mom....nothing. Thankfully Dad walked in so I could ask him to go get the nurse I call mom. She rubbed my back, gave me a heating pad, pain (+sleep), and anti-nausea medication. Thank you sweet baby Jesus! I drifted away into a comfortable (and possibly medically high) slumber.

I continued to be nauseous for a week. I went to work thinking I was going to blow chunks on the first person I talked to. What the hell was wrong with me? Was there some stomach bug going around? I came home every night exhausted out of my mind but unable to lay down due to my raging nausea. Mom finally asks the question...

"Are you pregnant?"
"No!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yep. I had two periods (since...well). I think I'm just dying."
"I had two periods when I was pregnant."
*Confused face* "Well, I'm not pregnant."
"Steph! Diamond's gonna have a baby!"

Ugh. I am never telling anyone I don't feel well again. The bestie was more than thrilled/entertained about this non-potential child and Mom...? Mom talked about me having little Harleigh bugs...something I never want...girls. Even Dad got in on it when I tried on a pair of my jeans that I hadn't worn in a few months that wouldn't go over my ass (I broke the zipper when I finally got them on) "Hips only spread like that for one reason!" Because of eating too much ice cream? Because I am sure that is what it was.

I went out to buffalo wild wings on Saturday so I could lose my mind watching a poorly played LSU game (clearly not a good year for Louisiana football) I ate a little and drank lots of water to pee out whatever bug was trying to kill me. A couple more days went on and I continued to feel sick. I would come home from work EXHAUSTED and wanting to hurl everything I ate that day. That was it. Mom had had it. She knew I was pregnant and she was going to convince me. I laughed and brushed it off and kept reminding her that it was impossible for me to be pregnant unless I had been pregnant for a while.

Persuaded by her own pregnancy experience, mom offered to take me to CVS to get a stick to piss on. Ugh. Fine. Ill pee on your little stick and prove to you there is no parasite growing inside of me. We ride over to CVS at 10 O'clock at night and discuss what we would do in different scenarios...well the only two scenarios. If I were to be pregnant I would laugh and point with an "I told you" like phrase. If I were... I would cry and quickly slit my wrists...vertically.

We walk in the store and debate where to even find these things. Mom's logic is that they are with the tampons and pads because you obviously don't need those things if you are knocked up. Her logic was right and we were faced with the many choices of pregnancy tests. Clear Blue, EPT, First Response CVS brand...geez. Which one was the best cheapest? I mean you just pee on all of them and they pop up with a happy face for not pregnant and a sad face for pregnant right? They even have digital ones. No discerning between lines involved (which isn't that damn difficult). Words. They have fucking words. Just say pregnant or not pregnant.

We grab an EPT -/+ one and check out. On the car ride back home mom sucked me into a whole conversation about baby names and how I am not allowed to name my kid something ghetto. I'm not creative enough to make up a random ass name not to mention I would like to name my kid something that my Korean mother could actually pronounce. This conversation was all jumping the gun though because I knew I wasn't preggo despite mom's opinion.

I open the box and unwrap the test. I don't even have time to read the instructions because the professional pee on a stick resident was giving me verbal instructions on how to perform at my best. Thankfully I drank two bottles of water between the drive from Haughton to Bossier and back. I go to the bathroom alone (a rarity these days with 2 kids) and pee on the stick counting, "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississipi, five. I put the stick on the counter and wash my hands. I walk out and bitch about waiting two minutes to read it. Mom and the bestie however ignore my bitching and run into the bathroom like tween girls seeing that One Direction band in the mall.

They stare at the stick and I slowly walk in behind them.

Minus sign!

Whoop whoop. Told ya suckas!

Disappointed the two walk away and the bestie says, "doesn't mean your not pregnant."

Ugh

Coffee, Chocolate, Men...Some Things are Just Better Rich

Sure, I've gone out a few times. Fresh out of a...I'm not sure what to call it, but we will use the term relationship for now, I am not looking to meet another boy, man, or asshole. For some reason however, guys think that I have a sign on my forehead, or my ass for that matter that says, talk to me...I want to hear your bullshit.

My first night back home, Canada came to visit Louisiana so we could put off saying goodbye. By the time she arrived in Shreveport, I had already been drinking Skinny Girl Margarita, and Skinny Girl Mandarin Vodka with Sprite (which tastes just like Sunkist) at the pool. We went out with my newly single fiancé to the newest casino in town, Margaritaville. The show was great but not as great as the show my completely hammered fiancé was giving. 

My pretty little love unconciously flirted with one of the stilted guys who we just named Stilts for obvious reasons. This Norweigen Johnny Depp look alike talked to us our entire dinner and invited us out afterwards. We never made it that far because some people just can't hang, but the story doesn't end there. The next weekend, my bestie, fiancé and I went to Stray Cat downtown. Who do we see there? Of course we Stilts and a couple of his hipster friends there. One guy dressed in a tie, vest, and fake black glasses profusely hits on me all night long. He offered to take me to dinner, but even free dinner wasn't enticing enough. I wasn't drunk enough to be entertained by him. Stilts on the other hand got touchy feely and downright possesive over the girl he that got away. 

Who are these men that never quit. Is this a new breed? Guys now a days can't take no for an answer. It is like they think they are entitled to my vagina. A guy that apparently knew stilts and his friends came up and started talking to me. I politely, or as politely as I could, told him, "I'm sorry. I already have a group that I am hanging out with. You can go away, I don't want to talk to you." Instead of appreciating my straight forward response he quickly got angry and and started using offensive terminology. Seriously, you were just trying to hit on me and now I am the ugliest bitch you know? Well buddy, you should seriously raise your standards.

Again, I go out with the fiancé to meet up with some new friends on hump day. Whoop! Whoop! I'm having a good time enjoying some Makers while my love drinks a slutty on the weekends dirty martini. She sees a guy a few tables away and says, he looks like Brad Pitt. Interested, I look over and am disappointed by the choice of celebrity used to represent this guy. I question her vision and she reassures me that if I were to be a block away and see this guy that he looked like Brad Pitt. Fine. I'll accept that.

He kept eyeing our table as well as a guy in camo pants, a vest, and hipster black glasses. Oh God. It was hipster guy, friend of Stilts. I avoid all eye contact and start talking with a table behind me which seated a young man calling a man sitting at a table beside mine an asshole. As the night went on I found out the name caller was celebrating a birthday. He invited us lovely ladies to his table, but we declined. By this point Brad Pitt was hitting on me and we invited him to sit at our table. He is 12 years my senior and entertaining to say the least. He kept asking for my number but I was making him earn it.

Meanwhile, name caller decided that his friends and him were going to another bar. I gave him a hug and told him happy birthday. He says, "I know you probably won't, but text me later." and hands me his business card. Damn his pick up tactics. Challenge accepted. I continue to talk to Brad and decided he is cool enough to give my number to. Boy was I wrong.

Next Saturday while I am in bed and my phone is on silent across the room: 

9:48pm - "Fuuuuck!"
9:48pm "Mmmmm...."
9:53pm "Y u tease me"
10:01pm "Ok..im out if u wanna see me later...u look beautiful"
10:02pm "Btw...i didn't txt u today cuz i wanted to see if ud text me unsolicited...yep"
10:26pm "I think u kinda playin games with me.....mayb not....idk"
10:27pm "Im at steak for a drink...this is my calm bfore the storm...bfore i get DT"
10:30pm "yep seven txt and no reply....game"
11:32pm "last txt:::::hope i c u tonight...if not...then ok"
3:26am "wow"
3:41am "ok bye"

I contemplated apologizing for not having an attachment on my body for my phone, but who the hell apologizes for resting. Plus, I didn't want to further open lines of communication with this crazy. As for name caller, he has a girlfriend. He texted me asking for pictures and telling me I dropped the ball by not waking up next to him the morning after his birthday. I needed to research this guy, I mean he did give me his business card with his full name. Obviously you want me to know more about you. I typed his name into Facebook and his profile picture was of him and another girl in a hot tub. I clicked on the comments,"such a cute couple." Seriously. And she is VERY pretty. Why are guys douchers? In fact, EVERY profile picture he had was a picture of the couple. I hope he gets caught and she chops his dick off. 

Your friends will tell you, good guys are just intimidated and blah blah blah. Why do these losers have such big balls? I am apparently a magnet for crazies, douche bags, liars, and men with horrible fashion sense. Notice: I am not in the market for someone of the opposite sex, but can the next guy that tries to talk to me be normal...and rich? 

Yes Ma'ams, Please, and Thank Yous: Toddler Adventures with Aunt Diamond

Nowadays I spend my time sneaking around to eat ice cream.

Scene: Harleigh walks out into the living room after a nap to see my bestie and I with plain white bowls full of chocolate chip cookie dough blue bell ice cream and a spoon with gracious amounts of said ice cream shoved into our mouths. I see this minature version of my best friend and I look over and see her wide eyed.  

She says with a whisper, "We've been caught. Don't make any sudden movements." I continue to to stare at her as not to make eye contact with the three year old and say the first thing that comes to mind, "Mmmm this soup is so good." The bestie follows suit and we convince this little person with a stomach ache that we are indeed crazy adults eating soup. 

Sundays are supposed to be a day of rest according to some religions. Sunday around these parts however, are anything but restful. We start our day getting in some Jesus time (Charcher is what the 3 year old calls it) at 10:30 am. The bestie and I grow spiritually while we get a break from the monsters that most people call toddlers. After picking them up from the animal themed kids area, we were disappointed to find that mom and dad weren't going to take the girls shoe shopping like they had previously stated they would the day before. Damn it. That was going to be my nap time. 

We headed to the Louisiana Boardwalk as a first stop because it was a beautiful 80 degree day equipped with blue skies, animal shaped clouds and sunshine for miles. We went to one store to find disappointment, but that was no problem because there was a Rack Room Shoes across the trolly track. The monsters, still tame,and cooperative, to tried on several pair of shoes. Divas. We went through shoes with sparkles, shoes with animal print, and shoes that lit up. When we found the perfect pair of shoes that fit one sister, they didn't have a size for the other. 

Hopeful, I told the bestie that we would just go to the other Rack Room in Shreveport to get the girls their matching sparkly, leopard, light up sneaks. On the way out, Harleigh insisted that we stop and look at the Red River. She searched for mermaids in the what should have been named the Brown River freely flowing before buildings filled with gamblers, lights, and slot machines. I informed her of the alligators that would potentially eat her which resided in the murky waters because, as an Aunt, I am allowed to instill fear in my nieces. 

When we got to store number 3 we must have needed another nap. Scarlett refused to walk dropping to her knees in the middle of the parking lot attached by an arm to her mother. "Oh God", I thought, "here we go."Almost dragging her daughter to the sidewalk, the bestie finally let go of her youngest daughters hand. Harleigh and I started to walk in when we noticed the blonde hair, blue eyed, two year old acting as if she just witnessed a murder screaming on the side walk because she wanted to be held. We all walked away, and the princess came running...and screaming. 

You should have seen the stares, like we were unfit care givers. Fuck them. I have no sympathy for a child with capable legs for walking, WALKING. A child throwing a fit is no  grounds for adults to gasp and gawk at the other adults that are involved with that child. Turn around, mind your business, and let us tend to ours...noisely. 

Some days are like this...

 BUT

MOST days are like this...

After the embarassing melt down, this child and her sister decided to try on every shoe in sight, spill an egg full of freaking rice, and try to kill each other. I was over it. Exhausted and fed up I started to do what I don't believe in doing to children...yell. "Harleigh Stop! Don't make me tell you again! Scarlett sit your butt down! Y'all don't move! Why are you doing that?! I said Stop it!" Angrily trying to catch a breath, a worker walks by and asks if I need help. Ummm yes. I need you to put all these shoes back to their rightful homes and I am sorry, but as much as I feel your pain, I want you to take mine away right now with this knife. Remember slit vertically. 

Leaving with not a single pair of shoes, we stop at one final store. To Harleigh's dismay, the children were bound to buggies (baskets or carts for you non-southerners) because I, as well as their mother, refused to chase a child with unmatched shoes. I couldn't actually believe it was time to go when we actually found shoes because Hell seemed to be endless. Arriving home, kicking off my shoes, and sitting my ass on the couch was the best thing since red wine. I was completely over the day. Ready for an adult beverage. 

Sister needed the tears adjusted out of her

Shopping used to be a happy past time. Grocery shopping is much simpler and involves less effort. We walk into Brookshires and Harleigh immediately has to get her own minature version of the adult buggy. I fill her basket with colorful fruits and veggies while her mother fills the adult sized buggy with the rest of the food we craved. Going up and down aisles checking things off the list I say to the three year old terror, "Come on Dr. Harleigh." (She has been calling me Aunt Dr. Diamond since I graduated and is convinced that she will be a doctor too.) Without skipping a beat and utter joy beaming out of her pretty brown eyes, she says, "Thank you for calling me Dr. Harleigh, Dr. Diamond!" Of course she was more than welcome and not 2 minutes later I almost needed a doctor after Scarlett knocked over a jar of pickled something while sitting in her buggy. Sigh. Her we go again.

Lost Weekends, Babies, and Broke

When does good stuff start happening to good people?
Actually
How much bullshit does one have to go through before something good happens?

Maybe I'm not a good person. This would all make more sense.

There is always sunshine after the rain right?

Fuck this flood

I tried being positive and though I still have an inkling of positivity left somewhere inside of me, this shit fucking blows.

Ugh. I wish I could curse up a storm in everyday life. Damn those babies I live with. I can't fully express myself.

DAMN. SHIT. FUCK. ASS









Sooooooo that's how I was originally gonna start this blog post, but I forgot I was working on being positive. Here is the deal. I have a lot going on right now. A LOT and I can only ask for you guys to say a sweet prayer for me. Tonight I read this neat article (CLICK ME TO READ) about having inflated expectations leading to immortal disappointment. Something I've always known about myself. I'm that girl that deletes Facebook every summer because I feel like IIIIIIIIIII should be on the beach, but I'm not.

I knew life after graduation would be tough, but nothing could have prepared me for all the things that have happened in the last 4 weeks most that I've decided NOT to share with the public.

I feel a lot better now that I've discussed why I used to be happy before moving to hell (*reminder* Hell=Dallas) I had nothing to complain about. I had a job that I loved, I had money because I had a job, and I had a huge home...all to myself and Kiwi and Papaya.
Mostly, however, I feel better because I got to spend time with a friend who has made it in life per se. We spent several hours talking about struggles and overcoming them. Knowing someone who personally did it and knowing that it didn't happen over night and how content she is with life...that is what gave me some hope.

So I'm gonna talk about shit that I like.

• Ice cream.

I'm eating it as I type. Chocolate chip cookie dough. Ice cream makes EVERYTHING better...well except for upset stomach.

• Miss Kansas 2014. 

She wanted to use archery as her talent. (She couldn't due to a clause against projectiles on stage.)

BAD

ASS!

• Crushing candy.

This needs elaboration. I just started playing the week after my graduation, so I guess I've been going on a month now. It used to annoy me to walk into a room full of people crushing candy but when I had to go on a road trip with my temporary (I know this make sense, but it will later) boyfriend at the time and his 2 friends, I knew that this was something I wanted to try to keep my self sane and occupied. Crushed some candy and couldn't figure out what the big deal was. In fact it just pissed me off when I got stuck on a level. Then said boyfriends showed me what happens when you put special candies together. Add that new found information with mom showing me how to get unlimited lives on my phone and I hands down became an addict. 

Boom. On like Donkey Kong.

• Naked babies.

Babies are happy in general but there are none happier than the naked ones. They are free from the only restrictions that matter to them. Clothes. Add a pair of heels and you have one happy Diamond.

• All things vintage.

Who doesn't like a blast from the past? Obviously everyone, that is why Instagram is so damn popular. I can't explain why I like old things. Probably because I worked in a nursing home for so many years and I used to get smacked on the ass (positive reinforcement?) by the old guys.

I always dreamt of being in one of these. Damn my genes for small boobs. 

So I have found things that make my heart go lub dub!! Prayers, finger crossing, and positive thoughts are all appreciated. More happy posts to come soon. I mean how bad can things really get? (I immediately looked for wood.) So I'm broke and I have to cut my own puppies hair now. I think she looks cuter than ever. Go me!

Distance Makes the Heart do Something

I'm not very good at cliches so I had to look this one up "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Here are my thoughts on long distance relationships: a preface to another post.

I am a professional at them and every time it was the guy that effed it up because I was the only one willing to do it!

Por ejemplo:

Imagine it, being 18, madly in love with your tall, handsome boyfriend and having to go to separate colleges. No big deal right? Your love can survive anything. And let's be real, the hour commute between Natchitoches and Shreveport is nothing! I was gonna be busy studying to get my biology degree, and he, well he would definitely be doing something. It was perfect and totally do-able.

So what happens? It was do-able, but his jealousy got the best of him. There would be boys in and out of my room (because I had a single roommate) and he would get mad even though I would be on the phone with him and not talking to any of those guys. Trust went out the window and finally the relationship came to its violent demise.

No worries though, soon you start a relationship with someone else. He's fun, makes you laugh, and accepts you for the crazy girl you are. One break up in between the 2 years of being together isn't that big of a deal because forgiveness is an awesome thing. So when it is time for him to move back to Michigan while you finish your degree you guys just quietly assume that a year a part isn't that big of a deal especially when there are things called planes.

Skip to that moment. He leaves you're fine and you call him everyday after you get out of work at 10pm. He is constantly going out and doesn't have but 5-10 minutes to talk to you because he is going to have fun with his friends and there is an hour time difference. Now you question your assumption. You ask him to call you in the mornings before you're off to class all day and he declines because he wants to sleep in, so fed up you stop calling. He doesn't call you back...ever...for two whole weeks!! Well, luckily for you you've been going on innocent dates with other guys because you aren't going to wait around forever. So at the end of two weeks, you call to end what's left of your relationSHIT.

So you tell yourself, this is bullshit, you can't do this long distance thing anymore just because it doesn't work. You pull yourself away from any guy that even has any kind of distance in their future.

Then you meet the guy that changes your entire life. The kind of guy that makes you start a blog about your hilarious life. You meet him and he is great (or poses to be) but he lives on the east coast and you live in hell (Dallas). You for some idiotic reason decide to talk to him every day. This isn't the kind of long distance get to know you thing you're used to. This person actually calls...seems genuinely interested in what you have to say, and hell, he's kind of cute too.

Fast forward to him moving to Dallas "for you" and now you have a live in boyfriend. You learn that starting a relationship long distance is completely different than starting one in real life. You fall for the person that you imagine them to be on the phone. Not that actual person. You in fact don't really know them no matter how much they've told you on the phone or what they show you during visits. It's an act of putting their best foot forward because they like you and want you to like them too. You imagine this  person to be exactly who they say they are and when you aren't on the phone with them you imagine them shitting unicorns and rainbows out of their ass.

We all know how that relationship ended.

Do I think long distance works? I think it can but only if BOTH parties want to make it work. It is a challenge in even the strongest of relationships. There has to be trust and you have to know this person to some level.( If you start a relationship from ground zero you should probably read the first year of my blog before pursing that.) There also needs to be some kind of commitment. I mean if you are wanting to visit this person every so often, there is a commitment in that. That's hard especially when you are a commitment-phobe like me. Most importantly I learned that changing your entire life for someone who isn't willing to change some part of theirs for you isn't worth it. Every relationship is a compromise but even more so in a LD one. There needs to be some outcome. You can't just do it and see what happens. It needs to be we will do this for however long with the outcome of X. You know?

My point exactly

One Broke Southern Belle

"Aunt Diamond are you NOT gonna leave?"
"No baby, I'm here forever."
"Yay!"

No more temporary. Did I just promise that? I guess I did. I guess I have to stay here in Louisiana forever or as close to forever as I possibly can. 

There are some things I would like to be temporary though i.e. being broke. Do you know how crappy it feels to have your storage unit...your entire life in a metal box not paid for because you don't have enough money in your account for $37? I mean I am sure some of you do, but EFF! $37?!

I may be at my low financially, but I'm on the up and coming professionally! (thank you sweet baby Jesus. Let's hope that means moo-lah)

No more relationships with expiration dates. The next time I end a relationship it isn't going to be planned.

No more "friendships" that I need to keep just to make it easier for my life until I leave. Now I can choose who I want to talk to.

I'm a chiropractor and I'm home. All my dreams are starting to come true.

It's funny how a simple letter...someone's sweet, kind words can make your entire day...can change your mind set. I believe in me because someone else believes in me. Stupid in retrospect, but sometimes that's what you need.

Sometimes I feel like I dream too big, but tonight I feel like all of my dreams are attainable.

God has a plan for me that I have yet to figure out (thanks for the heads up Big Man -_-) But it's gonna happen 

and it's all gonna work out.

Where I am absolutely broke in my bank account, I am rich in blessings. 

Oh, I applied to work at Ann Taylor Loft today. I figured a discount on nice clothes I could wear to the office would be amazeballs. Fingers crossed for my last temporary venture!

Well that's all. That's my little pep talk out loud.

Tell me, What DOES it Feel like to be a Doctor?

Everyone keeps asking what it feels like to be a doctor now...uhhhh the same? Worse? I don't know. I guess if I were to be an employed chiropractor I may feel different, but the current situation leaves me high and dry and looking for a temporary (I effing hate this word. Seriously HATE it.) job until I get licensed and/or figure out what I am going to do with my life.

The only cool part about be a Dr. so far is that my car insurance got cut in half. I mean that's cool. Obviously I'm a more responsible driver now because I went from Miss to Dr. right (obviously they don't know I'm half asian and ALL woman)? People are all excited telling me how much money I'm gonna make and shit and I'm just like dude, did you read my last post? I'm $207,000 in debt and I didn't even have ANY debt from undergrad! And let's be real, another D.C. (doctor of chiropractic) isn't trying to pay a new D.C. because they like to "eat their young". So everyone calm down for a minute!

I'm jealous of the people smart enough to have gotten married to a normal person before or in chiropractic school since that normal person could save up money with their normal job for their love to get out and pursue their dream of becoming their own doctor. I'm also jealous of people that had normal bad ass jobs before coming to chiropractic school and saving up money. So all in all as a doctor I feel jealous of most people....anyone with a job or any sort of money (including $5 to their name), I feel tired since I'm doing absolutely nothing but stressing, and I feel broke...because my bank account is emoty as of Saturday (could they not have continued my student loan until I actually got a job? Waaaaah!).

I question if I went into the right profession sometimes. I mean it would have been much easier to be a nurse or a doctor as far as getting a job after school. I could always work at some hospital and make a decent living to where I could start paying off student loans. When have I ever done something easy though? And no I'm not saying it is easy to become a M.D. or D.O. but damn my personality for always going against the grain!

There are some upsides to being temporarily taken care of by your second family in Shreveport. I get to sit out in the country and listen to humming birds on the porch. Don't judge, but I didn't know those things made a sound other then the purr of their wings flapping a million times a minute. They're actually quite obnoxious chirping at each other as they get nectar from an unnatural source. It's like a game to them. I watched 3 of them chase each other around before I got tired of being ate up by mosquitos (it's because I'm so sweet) all over my exposed feet. Oh, and did I mention how wonderful it is to be in a state where I can wear black skinnies and not die of a heat stroke?

Sitting out here makes filling out applications on the lap top bearable. I didn't know how much these things have changed in the past 4 years. It's like they want your first born child! What if I don't have one of those? Do they still want my kid if I adopt? *Sigh* Applications are just difficult in general. Applying to get my Louisiana chiropractic license was just as strenuous, not to mention the lady you have to contact is a huge BITCH. These people asked for my high school transcripts as if my college and chiropractic school transcripts are enough. Obviously I went to high school people! I'm surprised they didn't ask my blood type. O positive just in case you're curious.

Another up side to being in good old Louisiana...humidity. Well, good and bad. Bad for my hair, but good for my skin! I got this crazy eczema the last month and a half before I left Dallas. I wish I had the original before pics to show you how nuts and gross it was. I would wake up trying to dig my nails into my arms. I became so self concious about it, holding my arms where ever I would go. Well, that is now in the past thanks to some coconut oil, sea salt, apple cider vinegar, and most importantly humidity!

No amount of straightening could have fully straightened my hair in this humidity

Right arm on top and left arm on bottom

So I read to use coconut oil and mix it with sea salt and rub the affected area then wipe off with a warm cloth. Then squint your eyes and rub some apple cider vinegar on it. After jumping around from the slight burn smother coconut oil back on the affected area and go about your business. I did this once in the morning and then at night before bed and I had no itching throughout the day. Also putting coconut oil on before showering kept the water from drying my skin out. So after my rigorous routine for a few days, I looked like my first pic which was 100% better than it was previously (sorry for my lack of photos). 

Then 24 hours after being in Louisiana I looked like the 2nd picture. After 72 hours (of my missed humidity and coconut oil), my skin is back to being soft instead of that rough itchy flaky stuff it was. In fact in the 3rd pic you can see my skin healing and growing a new soft layer!

So there is that answer. Now you know what it feels like to be a newbie in the Chiropractic field. Less itchy and effing Scary!

3 is Company, as well as 4 & 5

NOTE: I was supposed to post this a while ago, buuuuut I got busy

I am the only girl in the house with 3 boys. Well I was the only girl...

How did I get in this situation? That's easy, by refusing to go month to month at an apartment complex. They charge you a shit ton when you can't sign a lease!

 

So here I am living in the house with a womanizer, Am Bam's boyfriend and a guy that looks like Shaggy from Scooby Doo when wearing a green shirt when paired with the Great Dane mix that also resides in this home. Full house? Wait till the girlfriends come over to stay the night! 

We live in a 3 bedroom house in the lovely historic neighborhood of Farmer's Branch. Oh? You caught that whole THREE bedroom thing? Yeah 3 bedrooms and 4 people. We turned the sitting room (the room you have to walk through when you come in the house) into my room. It actually worked out pretty well. We moved a couch, put in a bed, put up some curtains and viola! a "room" was created!

Well now that Am bam has come back we are 5 people with what was 5 animals: Otto (Great Dane mix), Hadley (black Lab) Kitten (black cat), Papaya, and Kiwi until I took the unruly, evil Papaya back to Louisiana. It is just a temporary situation right? Just like everything (Ugh EVERYTHING) in my life.

Look closely, there are 2 cats!

Well I graduate next Saturday and Molly had a baby!!! I don't even think I even mentioned that she was knocked up, but now we can graciously asked her to update her blog and tell us her amazing home birth story! *cough cough Molly*

All good things always come to an end right? I can't believe I survived 3 and a half years in Dallas. So many things, good and bad have happened in my stay here. I've met some awesome people that I am going to miss dearly and I grew up...A LOT. It has been the hardest thing saying goodbye to all of my patients that I have seen go from losing all hope to seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. I have been so blessed to be a part of that amazing transition!

What am I going to do? Well,  I don't know. I guess keep blogging. I'm in a weird situation now. I have all of my things in storage here in Dallas and have no job lined up. I'm hoping to buy a practice so that I can start my own thing, but you never know what God has planned. I have no desire to associate with another doctor and make $38,000 to build THEIR practice while paying back 1-2 grand a month ($207,000 total) in student loans plus live my own life (I should have just went to Nursing school *sigh*). But you never know what will happen right? I may just have to be screwed in the butt hole by my own profession.

I just feel like I have a lot on my shoulders. My mom needs me. She hasn't had a steady job. Thankfully her house is paid for but her car note, our car insurance, and cell phone bills aren't going to pay themselves. So I am determined to do this on my own. Make a name for myself and keep me and my mom afloat. Talking about doing all of that is so daunting though knowing how much I am going to have to put in to get there.

I am lucky to have a strong support system. I have thought about moving away from Louisiana plenty of times, but how can I leave the people that love me and sacrifice so much for me? My bestie's mom and dad said I can live with them for a while so that will take me from Dallas in my current situation to Shreveport to live with Mom, Dad, Steph, and the two girls Harleigh, and Scarlett. I don't know how I keep getting in crazy living quarters, but I am counting my blessings because I will have another temporary place to live.