Burqa Bean

It has been a while.  What else is new. Much has happened since my last post.  No croup, though.

I drove a car for the first time in almost a year.  When I arrived at Fox Rent-A-Car in Seattle, there was a silver Honda Civic waiting for me to get in.  For anyone who doesn't know, that was the same car I used to drive.  Phyllis would have been so excited.  My old driving habits quickly took over.  I was passing slow people and riding people's asses if they were going too slow in the fast lane.  The speed limit on some areas of the highway was 70. That meant I could go 80.  I like to make Bill Lang proud.

My nephews turned "free".  I would appreciate it if they stopped growing.  When I went home for Meggie's wedding weekend, my sista and I took a trip to the mall with all three kids in tow.  I was holding both of the boys hands walking through Macy's.  We walked by the Junior Girls Department.  There were some skanky dresses.  I said, "Anthony, Nicholas, do you like these dresses?"  They looked at me and didn't respond.  I said, "Good.  Never date a girl that wears one of those dresses.  Date a girl that dresses like Titi." I hope they won't need counseling.  I told Tony I would be dressing my little bean up as a ho fo sho before hot dates.  I was kidding.  If Meaghan is anything like Kath, Annabella will be dressed in burqa's through college. My little burqa bean is also very close to saying "Titi".  She says, "Ti".  I will take what I can get. 

My best friend got married.  I smile as I type that.  Meggie was the most beautiful bride.  Vinnie looked a'ight. Their wedding was perfect.  No one tripped down the aisle, i.e. this girl.  I thought I would be a sobbing mess throughout the ceremony, but managed to maintain my composure.  My posture was perfect as well.  Vinnie's nephews told me so.  I am glad I wore a ballgown because no one could see my legs shaking.  I don't know why I was so nervous.  I  will need to take Ativan on my own wedding day. I also managed to make it through my speech without vomiting or crying.  I would rather drink whole milk than do any form of public speaking. 

Speaking of which, I had to present for work last week.  Again, I was a nervous wreck.  An employee asked me to "Speak up just a bit."  I smiled and said, "Oh, sure! That's my one weakness."  I quickly realized my gaffe, and started to awkwardly explain myself to the audience of 30. Then decided to just let it go.  I am glad I decided not to elaborate because I have lots of weaknesses.  Chocolate, fro-yo, my arm strength.  I should borrow Kath's Shake Weight.

Anyway.  The wedding weekend fittingly ended at Rehab with a visit with Phyllis.  She was delighted to see me and "John P".  Gram has a new nickname for the bf every visit.  I brought her a bunch of candy for Halloween.  She had a peanut butter cup and two kit kats during the visit.  She tried pushing a Tootsie Pop on me, but I declined.  I told Gram that I was "very hung over."  She smiled.  John P. told her that we cut up the dance floor at the wedding.  Gram seemed impressed.  Unfortunately, we did not see the biddies.  (My brother visited with Gram a few weeks ago. He was lucky enough to meet Roberta. As she does with me, she kept asking him who he was. He gave her a different answer each time. Clever.) We chatted about Thanksgiving.  I am so looking forward to a long visit with Phyllis.  And watching Toy Story 3 with my kids. They are so cute, I am afraid I am going to eat them. 

To end, I am going to post the oh so wonderful Mockumentary written and directed by Michael Ford.  Amazing.  Even if you don't know the DeCesare's, this shiz is funny.  And, a little crude.  I hope my brother didn't end up watching.  He shouldn't hear his baby sista talk like that. 

Relationship In Slow Motion [Part 1] from Michael Ford on Vimeo.

Relationship In Slow Motion [Part 2] from Michael Ford on Vimeo.

The Croup.

Thought I would surprise everyone and post a quick one before the long weekend. 

I saw my CF this week.  It had been far too long.  She makes me laugh.  I would like to put in writing that I love her bangs.  XO, if you're reading this cousin friend.  We talked about her self diagnosis of hypertension and Meggie's wedding. She asked if the BZ would mind if she showed up at midnight wearing a Scream mask.  Fingers crossed she does.  Then we gushed about her nephew and my kids.  Bartenders must think we're crazy.  We guzzle wine and talk about toddlers.  That sentence was super creep to type, but it's the truth.  They're all just so cute.  We're a lucky family.

I finally ran on my quad.  I didn't fall or pass out.  I didn't exactly full out sprint either.  Baby steps.  My personal trainer made me stretch a ton prior to running.  I think it helped.  Who knew.

Last night I checked in with Phyllis.  When she picked up the phone, she screamed, "HI HONEY BUNCH! HOW ARE YOU?"  I told her I was good.  Then she threw a curve ball.  She said, "HOW'S JP? ARE YOU STILL TOGETHER?"  Apparently, they are now "boys" and she can call him by his more common nickname.  I think she really likes him as she keeps making sure that we have not broken up.  "WHAT DID HE THINK OF ME?" she asked.  I told her he thought she was a great, funny person.  "OOH, THAT'S NICE." she replied.  I said, "How could anyone not think that?"  She laughed.  I miss her.  I know that later on I am going to be told that this blog is all about him and it should be titled, "JP and Phyllis are my heroes."  Be careful what you wish for, budday.

After my last post, my sister suggested I write about my bouts with the croup as a child.  I am glad she found such humor in the torture I went through on an annual basis.  My family would leave me at home while they went and picked out the Christmas tree.  Or, take Meaghan to visit Santa Claus and just have her tell him what I wanted.  Anyway.  I was a 9 pound baby. Rumor has it, heavier babies are afflicted with the croup more as children.  Maybe Kath just told me that because she's still pissed she had to carry such a load for nine months.  Should have laid off the manicotti, Ma.  I remember having high fevers, a closed throat and not being able to breathe.  When I couldn't breathe, I would bang on the couch to get someone's attention to inform them that I was in fact dying.  A few times Ma and Pa Lang had to take me to the emergency room.  One specific time is a favorite of theirs.  Meaghan was there, too.  I was maybe 4 and the doctor asked if he could take my temperature.  When he told me where he planned to take my temperature, I did not like his idea.  I sat there with my arms crossed and refused to budge.  My eyes were slits and I just glared at him.  You know, I am not sure of the outcome of that thermometer.  I think they ended up taking it in my ear and not the rear. Well. This is an edit to this post.  After my sista read it, I received an email from her shortly after:


"Looks like your memory needs some refreshing...You REFUSED to open your mouth to have your temperature taken. REFUSED. And those slit eyes were there.. soooo...because you REFUSED, they turned you over-and well--there is the 'rest of the story!"

So.  I repressed some memories.  I finally stopped getting croup in my teens.  I actually looked forward to it because I was home from school for at least one week.  My mom fed me ice cream and milkshakes. I could watch The Nutcracker Prince all day long on Paperview due to my brother's sweet, sweet job at Continental Cablevision.  And, everyone had to be nice to me. 

I hope I get croup this year.

Like I said, this was a quick one.  Enjoy Columbus Day, bitches. And for all you Canadians, Happy Thanksgiving.



Shoes.

So, I have made empty promises as I have not blogged more at all.  Sorry, bitches. 

My quadricep is doing much better.  Thanks for asking.  I am terrified to run on it though.  I need to get over that fear.  When my F and I walk, sometimes there are men in hoods that we pass and we very well may have to run for our vaginas.  As Michelle said, "Do us a solid and take off your hood." I really need to get that mace. 

I saw Phyllis last weekend.  She wouldn't stop smiling and kept asking me for hugs.  I think she was showing off for the bf.  It was their first meeting.  They hit it off.  At one point he asked her if we looked alike.  She said we resembled each other.  He then said, "That's why I'm attracted to her."  He's kind of fresh.  Phyllis just smiled.  We took her outside and she told me to warn her if there were any bees.  She's allergic.  I told her we were going to the Big E later that night.  "Where's the big BEE!" she asked. 

Gram told the bf that she and I had great times together.  What can I say?  I am a party girl.  Then she said she really loved when I had a car.  I do wish I had a car, but only to take Phyllis out of rehab. Side note: I have not driven in almost a year, except for a mini joyride in August, when Erin told me it was like I was driving with a learner's permit.   (I just found out that I have to drive in a few weeks.  I am so nervous.  I have to drive from Seattle to Blaine, Washington.  That is 200 miles round trip.  Watch out, west coast drivers.)  I digress.  We sat outside for a bit until Gram got chilly.  I think Gram kept her freshness in check since I brought my "friend" Jonathan.  She kept remarking about an apple tree.  If my "friend" wasn't with me she would have talked more shit.  Next time.

After the visit with Gram, it was time for the bf to meet Bill Lang.  That went over well.  I knew it would.  Dad just doesn't want me dating a Republican or someone who beats me.  One for two.  As any girl would be, I was nervous my family would tell embarrassing stories.  They only told one. And, it's not even that embarrassing.  When I was in first grade, those assholes made me go to school wearing a dress and sneakers.  Because we were doing something "special" when school was out.  I couldn't find my dress shoes and was so distraught that I was sent to school looking like such an ass.  I remember my classmate Danny Ortiz asking me why I was sitting on my feet.  When I told him it was because I didn't have my dress shoes on, he just smiled shyly and said I looked fine.  So suave for a six-year-old.  Anyway.  The school called home and advised that I was crying in the principal's office talking about shoes.  My mom called my brother and asked if he could bring me another pair.  Principal White told me Robert was on his way.  I was so pleased.  Until he came to my classroom with these:


Thanks, Robert.  I think I blocked the rest of the school day from my memory.  I swore to myself that I would never let anyone go through that hell.  I didn't really, but it would have been something if I had.  Because, today, my coworker came into work with a dress and sneakers. She forgot her dress shoes.  She told me she felt like such a "goober".  I said, "You're in luck!" and opened my dresk drawer.  I have five pairs of shoes at the office.  I had the perfect pair of fun flip flops that matched her dress.  I didn't want her sitting on her feet all day. 

To end, I am not going to tell you that I am going to try and blog more.  Things are just going to get crazier this month.  One month exactly until a certain BZ's wedding.  And some traveling coming up.  The BZ told me I should get mace for my work trip in case anyone tries to steal me.  Then she said, "I can't imagine you using it though, you would probably spray yourself in the face hahaha."  She's right.  Fingers crossed a pterodactyl doesn't hit my rental car.  I don't think I could survive that again.

In honor of all this shoe talk, here's one of my fave youtube vids. I think I posted it before.  "Let's get 'em."



Lata, bitches.

Snap to it.

Ok.  I know it's been a while.  I apologize.  After receiving a request to "Snap to it" from Angela and her mother, I am snapping.

Kath called me at work a couple of weeks back.  This is what she does when she's on vacation.  Calls my work line to chat.  I told her I made dinner for myself.  And how good it was.  I said, "Mom, I can cook like Bill Lang!"  She said, "What about cook like me?"  I said, "I can make a mean sandwich."  She was offended.  "Your father doesn't cook anymore, you know."  she told me.  "That's because he's too busy doing your ironing."  I replied.  "You're a little ass." she said.  Tell me something I don't know, Mom.

I saw Phyllis two Friday's ago.  All she asks about is my "romance".  You would think I had nothing else going on in my life.  Maybe she wants to live vicariously through me since she's been celibate for 57 years.  She asked to see a picture.  I showed her one on my phone.  I was wearing a hoodie in the picture.  Gram scrunched up her face and said, "Which one is he?"  Then she proceeded to tell me he looked like my brother. 

I was lucky enough to arrive for mealtime.  My fave biddies were all there.  Even though they don't remember me, I like to act as though we're all old friends.  During our 20 minutes together, Roberta asked me the same question four times.  She would beam at me and ask if I was a relative of Gram's.  I told her yes, I was.  "What relation?"  She asked.  "I'm her granddaughter!"  I said.  She nodded and smiled. Next time I am going to say I am Phyllis' sister.  Gram declared that her food tasted like crap and asked me to take her back to her room. I obliged.  I had to spend time with the kids, but told Gram I would try and visit again over the weekend.  I would have done this had I not broken my leg.

Well, I didn't really break my leg.  But, I almost fainted and vomited.  I was going to do some sprints on a wet soccer field. Maybe not my brightest idea.  However, I have a Bridezilla making fat faces at me when I go for dress fittings, so I have got to get my ass in check.  The first pump of the run, something happened to my thigh.  I fell to the ground and everything went black.  The pain was so severe, I almost threw up.  I didn't know what to do so I just sprawled out on the soaking wet grass close to tears.  I finally realized I couldn't lay there all day and crawled to the side of the road and called my sister.  (By the way, Meaghan, thanks for saving my life.) I couldn't even walk the 1/18th of a mile back to her house.  I immediately went to lay in my sister's bed.  Kath showed up to visit the kids and found me.  I said, "Mom.  I can't walk."  "What do you mean, you can't walk?" she yelled.  I explained the injury. The pain felt like a permanent charlie horse.  Meaghan gave me a Percocet and within 10 minutes, the pain was bearable.  However, Kath convinced me to go to the emergency room.  We were off.

It's twisted, but I like when my parents take me to the doctor's.  Kath asked if I wanted her to come in with me when they called my name.  Duh.  Maybe it has something to do with being the baby. Anyway. I limped to get myself registered and then went to Triage.  The nurse asked me if I drink alcohol.  I replied, "Today?"  That wasn't what she meant.  I told her that I drink socially.  I was called in and Kath came with me.  The doctor told me my leg was swollen and I strained my quadricep.  He gave me a prescription for some painkillers and told me to ice it.  I also went home with crutches.  I was concerned about taking the Peter Pan bus home.  Bill Lang learned of my plight and offered to drive me back to Boston.  I took him up on his offer.  I love car rides.

My F thought I was going to be out of commission for our last week of walking together.  However, I rallied and was walking that following Monday.  Things were healing quite nicely.  Until this past Friday afternoon.  I was walking across the street and saw a car coming.  I ran to avoid getting hit. The same thing happened to a lesser degree.  I ended up icing the thigh all afternoon and foam rolling it as my personal trainer advised.  Gram called me the next day.  She didn't even ask me about my leg first.  "HI HONEY BUNCH! HOW'S JONATHAN?"  This makes me laugh because he does not go by that name.  Gram does not care.  I told her he was fine.  "HOW'S YOUR LEG?"  I told her my leg was ok and that I had injured it again to avoid getting hit by a car.  "YOU GOT HIT BY A CAR!" she yelled.  I screamed five times that I did not get hit by a car.  "WHAT'S YOUR MOTHER THINK ABOUT THAT?"  I tried clarifying to no avail.  I told Kath to make sure she told Gram I was not run over.

So.  My leg is currently rehabbing. The thought of not walking with my F gave me a bit of anxiety and I have been waking up even earlier to get our walk on.   I am careful when crossing streets and hope that I don't get chased by a rapist or a cop as running is out of the question right now. 

Hopefully I will be back to normal soon.  In the meantime, I will try, try, try to post more.  I've  just been a busy bitch.  My sister teases that it's because of the bf.  Meaghan, I am a businesswoman.  Just like Phyllis.  And business is busy. Where is the last blog you posted?  Snap to it.

Until next time.

Bill and Phyl.

Sorry I haven't posted in quite some time.  I've been a busy bitch.  Last week I was on vacation.  I camped for a week in New Hampshire.  In a tent.  When I told Bill Lang this, he scoffed,  "But, you hate ants. I don't understand."  I told him I have been camping for years.  He seemed surprised.  It was nice to discover that he has not been listening to a word I have said for the past decade.  I ate and brushed my teeth while on the phone with him.  He kept asking what I was doing and told me my mother would never stand for such noisy behavior.  I said, "I'm almost done!  That's why I wanted to talk to youuu, Dad.  I have to make sure I am laying down when I talk to Mom."  Kath goes nuts if you wash a dish while she's talking to you on the phone.  "WHAT are you doing?" She will inquire. I always lie and tell her that I am doing nothing and that her phone is the problem. Dad asked how the bf was doing.  He said, "He's not a goddamn Republican, is he?"  I said, "NO.  I could not date a Republican."  He said, "I wouldn't allow it."  Bill went on to tell me that part of his morning routine is to listen to Glenn Beck for five minutes.  Then he shuts him off.  In the next breath he told me his doctor told him his blood pressure was too high.  "Christ sakes, stop listening to Glenn Beck."  I said.  He laughed and agreed that I was right.  I know he will continue to listen just to let his blood boil.  Glenn Beck, please don't kill my Pops.  You're such a douchebag.

Gram is back to calling me again.  I cannot tell you how happy this makes me.  I missed three calls from her on Sunday.  By the time I realized this, it was too late to call her back.  I missed a call from her Monday night.  As soon as I saw this, I called her back.  A nurse answered.  I said, "Can I leave a message for Phyllis Fitzgerald?"  The nurse replied, "Is this Meredith?"  I told her it was.  "She don't want Kathy, she wants Meredith.  You're all she's been talkin' about. It's gonna make her day talkin' to you." Well. That made my day.  I heard Gram say, "Thanks, Peggy!" Gram picked up the phone and screamed "HI HONEY BUNCH!" I yelled back, "HI GRAM!"  "HOW'S THE ROMANCE GOIN'?" She asked.  I told her it was going well.  "What do you do together?"  I wanted to say something risque, but decided against it.  Phyllis says enough Novena's. 

I could tell her mouth was full and I asked what she was eating.  "A cookie!" she replied.  It was chocolate chip.  "When ya comin' home?"  she asked.  I told her I would be home next weekend for my friend's baby shower.  "What kind of meetin' are ya havin'?"  she asked.  I repeated that I was going to a baby shower seven times.  "You'll make time to see me?" she asked.  I don't think Phyllis realizes how much I love visiting her and the biddies in Rehab.  Gram told me she wants to talk with me about "things" when I visit.  "What things? You got a boyfriend?"  I asked. "Oh. You know."  she said.  She's an 86-year-old mystery.

My F and I are still walking.  The other morning Michelle told me she watched Oprah for the first time this summer.  "Do you know why nuns wear the white dresses?" she asked.  I hadn't a clue. "It's their wedding dress to Jesus." she said.  I bet Jesus doesn't get tears in his eyes when he sees a bitch in that dress.  They are very unflattering. 

Anyway. I am devastated as she returns to work in September. Maybe I will hold auditions for people who can walk fast and keep up with me.  I am afraid to go it alone at that hour as we have encountered a total pervert.  Let's just say he was not rapping to Eminem like I originally thought.  It's too early to hear that kind of language.  I am feisty, but I am not that strong.  I need a taser. I found out I need my birth certificate to get an FID card if I want to legally carry mace.  I am sure Kath knows just where she put it last.  Luckily, she starts vacation today. I plan to call her and let her know I need her to find that document.  That should make her day. I guess I won't chew gum in her ear.