Basic Bitch

I've been hearing this term "basic bitch" for a while, and see it a lot on Facebook, but since I'm not cool anymore I didn't know what it meant. I decided to look it up on urbandictionary.com, and reached the unfortunate conclusion that I am a basic bitch.

It struck me hard as I was walking through Target, shopping for fall decorations, with my pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks in hand. If I'm not mistaken, I think I was wearing yoga pants at the time as well. Looking back, it was all kind of a blur. I thought that maybe I was wrong about being a basic bitch, and so I called my friend Liz.

"Liz, I looked up what a basic bitch is online, and I think I am one."

"Yes you are. You didn't know that?"

"No! Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"I don't know, I thought you knew."

"I didn't! You mean I'm so basic, I didn't even know I was basic?"
"Yes, but it's okay. I'm a basic bitch too."

At least I'm not alone. I had a nice trip to Target, but unfortunately they were all sold out of fall decorations. I guess all the other white people shopping for fall decorations at Target had beaten me to the punch.

Then I ran into one of my Middle Eastern friends on the way to Walmart. I informed him that I was on my way to Walmart to continue my search for fall decorations.

"What do you mean you're shopping for fall decorations?"

"I mean I'm going to the store to look for things like fall indoor wreaths, and pumpkin spice candles. Things like that."

"I don't understand"

"And I don't expect you to. I think it's a white people thing."
"I know other white people, and I don't think they all do this. I think there's another name for what you're doing."

So what if I like to decorate my house for fall? And I look for fall fashion ideas on Pinterest? And I wore Uggs when they were still in? And I like to wear my thin North Face jacket and complain that I'm still cold? Most people who know me like me. No, scratch that. The overwhelming majority of people who know me like me. So I will continue to be basic, and I encourage anyone else who might be ashamed of their basic-ness to do the same. After all, somebody has to keep Starbucks, Coach, and North Face in business!

First World Problems.

David and I were on our way to the mall yesterday and he looks at me and says, "You haven't posted on your blog for a while."

There are several reasons for this. The main reason is that my child stopped sleeping. She. Stopped. Sleeping. She was up every two hours, then up for good at 6 AM. For MONTHS. I am lucky to be alive. I certainly did not have the energy for blogging. I didn't want to share this with anyone, and I'll tell you why. I was trying to get advice from people about how to get her to sleep, and about 75% of them just said "Oh I'm so glad that I didn't have to deal with that." In hindsight, that response is really not that big of a deal, but when you say it to somebody who hasn't slept for more than 3 hours at a time for at least 3 months, it's basically the worst thing you could possibly say to them. I felt like I was telling people, "Oh I have to get my leg cut off tomorrow," and they responded with, "Oh thank God I've never had to get my leg cut off." That might sound a little dramatic to people who have never been sleep deprived. To those who have been through this, I'm sure you can understand where I'm coming from. 

Anyways, she sleeps now, so I guess it's time to start blogging again. I told David that I haven't been blogging because our computer shuts off randomly, and it's very frustrating. So he suggested that I blog about first world problems, considering that a computer that shuts off randomly is the epitome of first world problems. 

First world problems really came to my attention about a year ago. I was with my friend Anna and a lady in front of us in line was ordering a sandwich. She asked if they had any sheep cheese. They didn't have sheep cheese, and based on the woman's reaction, you would think somebody had just killed her dog. How DARE they not have sheep cheese. Anna looks at me and says, "You know, I was watching a documentary the other day about how some people in Africa are having to take the goat skin off the roofs of their huts because they don't have anything else to eat, and this lady is complaining about sheep cheese." It started to put things in perspective for me, and I thought to myself that even though sometimes a restaurant doesn't have exactly what I want, at least they have food. Not everybody is that fortunate.

But of course, it slipped my mind after a little while, which itself is a first world problem. It came to my attention again when David and I decided to go on diets. I opted to just be a normal person, and limit my calories and exercise. Of course David, being the all or nothing kind of guy that he is, decided to go on the Atkins diet. Don't get me wrong, he has lost 40 pounds, and that's all fine and good, but it got me thinking about first world problems again.

Dieting is a first world problem. Now, hear me out. I know that food and weight can be a real struggle for people, I know that. But in the developed world, we actually have SO MUCH FOOD, that we have to pay agencies like Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, and Nutrisystem to show us how to not eat too much food. Anybody ever noticed those labels on the side of everything we eat? That are on there? For free? That tell you how many calories you are taking in? How much fat? Sugar? Ah, yes, the Nutrition Facts. Read those.

But back to the Atkins diet. David was doing research on this and he told me that in the "induction phase," he can lose up to 15 pounds in two weeks from eliminating all carbs and going into something called ketosis. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it has something to do with your body burning fat, like, while you're sitting around watching TV. Or something like that. Anyways, after he got into "ketosis," he started dropping at least a pound a day. 

And I know this, because he felt the need to wake me up every morning at 4 AM when he was getting ready for work to let me how much weight he lost since the day before.

David: "Laura! Wake up! I've lost two pounds since yesterday!"

Me: "Wow, that seems like a bit much"
David: "Well I know I'm doing it right, because I tested my ketone levels and they're very high."

Me: "What's a ketone level?"

David: Well, I forgot exactly what he said, because it was 4 in the morning, but I remember being slightly concerned.

Me: "Okay, well you are losing like 6 pounds a week, and by the way you smell like you are dying. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

David: "Shut up Laura"

Me: "OK"

My diet plan has just been reasonable eating and moderate exercise, and I've lost 47 pounds since I had Annabelle. People are always asking me, "What diet are you on?" I explain that I'm just doing things in moderation. Extreme diets are NOT for me. I did the Atkins diet once, and I thought I was going to die. I was only on it for 12 hours, and 8 of those hours I was asleep. It ended with me almost having a nervous breakdown, followed by eating an entire Hershey bar and then crying in my car. As soon as David mentioned the word Atkins, I ate 3 cookies. 

I don't know exactly how much more weight I want to lose. I was watching MTV Jams last night (that's right) and started thinking that I could stop where I am in my weight loss and just become a rap video star. David shot that idea down REALLY FAST, so I guess my rap video star dreams ended before they even started. 

I hope this post has been as good as the others. I was worried that because I'm getting hot again, I might not be as funny. It is very rare to be attractive AND funny, and my best friend Liz has been the only one I have ever seen pull this off.

Laura: New and Improved

I haven't posted in a while, and that's mostly because of all the excitement following Harris Teeter's announcement of Super Double coupons, and that has been occupying most of my time. David has all but banned me from buying any more cereal until we go through the 16,000 boxes that we already have. I also have this annoying habit of getting burned out on one type of cereal, and opening a new one, so there are currently 7 opened boxes of cereal on my counter. We have to put them on the counter because our shelves aren't tall enough for cereal, so David told me a couple weeks ago that I have to finish my opened boxes before I could open any new ones. Of course I didn't listen, because I never do.

David: "Laura, I thought I told you not to open more boxes of cereal until you finished the ones that are already open."

Me: "I know, and I haven't opened any."

David: "Yes you did, you opened this box of Lucky Charms."
Me: "Well yes, but it was St. Patrick's Day, so that doesn't count."

In other news, I have decided to go back and finish school. Please hold your applause. No seriously, I can't stand when people say "Good for you Laura!" Like I'm a small child who went potty for the first time. I'm not a small child and I have gone potty plenty of times.

I went to college after high school but I didn't know what I wanted to do, so I just kind of farted around for like 6 years. It was fun, but now it's time to get down to business.  I decided to start at Durham Tech. I'm going to get my Bachelor in some kind of health science field, and then become an IBCLC (International Board Certified Lactation Consultant). But I'm going to do all the classes I can at Durham Tech. When I was at UNCG I had to take this poetry class that I could not pass to save my life. So I decided to take it at GTCC. I didn't even show up most of the time, and sometimes I don't think I was even in the right classroom, and I still got an A. So it makes sense to take my classes there first and make good grades, so I look like I have my act together to compensate for my 6 years of farting around at UNCG. Then I'm going to try to transfer to (hopefully) UNC. 

I found out at my advising session that I can transfer classes from UNCG to Durham Tech. I didn't think you could do that because it seems kind of backwards. Usually the community college classes transfer to a university. But hey, I'll take it. I looked at my transcripts and it turns out I basically have like 4 associate degrees, and I'm actually really close to getting a Bachelor, just not in health science. Of course I immediately panicked, because if I get a Bachelor's degree I have no excuse not to do something constructive with my life, and that's really scary. 

Orientation did not go very well. The pollen was really bad that day so my contacts were super dry and blurry. Like eyelids-sticking-together kind of blurry. So I kept blinking really hard and touching my eyeballs. Then I started to have a mild panic attack thinking about going back to school and I couldn't feel my legs so I started shifting my legs around and folding them, sitting on them, anything to get the feeling back. Looking back on this, I must have looked like a mess and I'm surprised they didn't call 9-1-1- on me. But they didn't, and I got through the orientation, and I'm alive to tell about it. Then we took a break. Or at least what I thought was a break. I decided to go to the bathroom before the second half so I just walked out of the classroom and turned right towards the bathroom, leaving all my stuff in the classroom. I didn't notice that everybody else in orientation brought their stuff with them, and turned left towards the computer lab. No, Laura, it was not a break, it was orientation moving to another location. Then I got back to the classroom, noticed that it was only my stuff on the table, and the rest of the class was nowhere to be found. I finally located them and all the computers closest to the door were taken so I had to walk past the instructor to get to my computer at the waaaaaaaay other side of the lab. Not my finest moment. After the lab part, I flagged down advisor.

Me: "So I farted around in college for a few years, and looking at the prerequisites for an associate's degree, I'm actually really close. So what happens?"

Advisor: "Well, we have a couple classes that you have to take at Durham Tech, but if you have your prerequisites done, you'll probably graduate in a semester or two."

Me: "Uh, I don't know if I'm ready for that"
Advisor: "Well, what were you hoping for?"

Me: "I was hoping to fart around for a few more years"
Advisor: "Why would you want to do that?"

Crap. I don't have a logical answer for that. So, I guess it's time to get this party started. Wish me luck!

867-5309

I couldn't sleep last night. David let me sleep in until nearly 10 AM on Thursday, and it really messed me up. I even went and got a HUGE cup of chamomile tea, and instead of making me sleepy, it just made me kind of confused. I know you might be thinking "What does that have to do with 867-5309?" I'll get to that.

Anyways, I couldn't sleep last night. Between David and the baby being in bed with me, it leaves me about an inch of space. Add a couple cats to that and I'm down to half an inch. Plus between David's snoring and the baby kicking my hips, forget it. So I kicked the cats out. Stinky is a very persistent cat and kept scratching under the door so I let him back in. Then I heard the shower dripping. I tried to ignore it, but it was like Chinese water torture in my bedroom, so I got up and fixed the drip. At this point I was wide awake. I'm reading a pretty good book by Mary Higgins Clark, so I decided to crack that open. But then I couldn't get in a comfortable reading position because I re-injured my old sports injury taking a walk on the Bolin Creek trail. And by sports injury, I mean the time I handed Annabelle her pacifier and twisted the wrong way and threw my back out. By this point, Stinky is wondering what all my tossing and turning is about so he walks up to me and promptly sits on my face. This didn't help my situation at all so I moved him off of me. Then he promptly sat on the baby's face, but I was kind of fading out at the time so it took me a minute to process that he was sitting on her face. Of course I moved him, I didn't want Annabelle to get crazy cat-ass disease. Besides, how would I explain that to her pediatrician if I took her in to get antibiotics for her cat-ass disease? Like if it was something directly related to cat-ass? Obviously she would know that I had allowed cat-ass to come in direct contact with her, for an extended period of time. Then she might call Child Protective Services. I have an extremely intense, irrational fear of Child Protective Services. Almost as strong as my intense, although probably not as irrational, fear of the IRS. I haven't filed my taxes yet, because I figured my returns will be garnished anyways, because I probably owe them $50,000 dollars. I don't know why I think that I owe the IRS $50,000 dollars, though. Just the other day when I went to the bank, something was wrong with their computers and they couldn't find my account. I immediately thought to myself, "Great, the government has found me and they have seized my money and closed my account." In reality, it was just a marginal computer error and they found my account in 15 seconds.

Back to what I was saying though. After all these disruptions, I couldn't sleep and was so frustrated that I just turned off my light and laid there in the dark. Which got me thinking about things I had seen on my Facebook news feed here lately. I've seen a lot of posts about how if you call 919-867-5309, the song will play. I actually met the guy who bought 336-867-5309. And it got me thinking, what would possess somebody to buy this phone number? I mean it's one thing to think "Hey it would be cool if my number was 867-5309." But to actually research this and then bid on it? I've had some pretty crazy, random ideas, but nothing like this.

I have decided that I am going to start dialing 867-5309 from different area codes and ask them the story on how they came to have this phone number. What kind of calls do they get? Has anyone ever called to ask why they have this phone number? How much did they pay for this phone number? I have decided to start with a North Dakota area code. I also really, really want to call it internationally, but I am on my mom's family plan, and I suspect that if I start making international 867-5309 phone calls, I will probably not be on her phone plan anymore. So I will stick to domestic area codes. I considered conducting these interviews and posting this all at once, but I feel like the back story is very important and it would be much better as a running series. So, stay tuned. I don't know if anybody has ever wondered why people buy this number, but if you ever were, sit tight. There's more to come.

DISCLAIMER: Any off color comments made in this blog are no reflection on my mother's parenting. I was raised to be a polite, respectable young lady. We're not sure what happened. Also, nobody needs to go calling her saying I'm going to be making international calls on our family plan. I was raised well enough to respect money, especially when it's my moms, and I certainly wouldn't waste it on something so frivolous.

Oh boy, another post!

Holy schnikes! My blog has had over 120 views. I have a short attention span and had all but forgotten that I even started a blog until I got that notification in my inbox. The pressure's on now.

I didn't know what I should blog about today, because I didn't really do anything, except that I forgot I had a doctor's appointment until 20 minutes before I was supposed to be there and it was a mad dash to get myself and the baby there in one piece, but I did it. I brought the baby and of course she was adorable and everyone loved her, but I got some criticism about my parenting, as I usually do when I leave the house. 

"Isn't it too cold to bring the baby out?"

"Her cheeks are red from the wind"

"Don't put the baby's face near that space heater she might get third degree burns"

I'm mostly kidding about that last one. But seriously, people need to mind their own business. So, I was inspired to make a post about how people seem to forget their manners at home whenever they see a pregnant woman or a woman with an infant. I will enlighten you all on my opinion of these off color comments.

When pregnant, these were my favorite remarks/comments/questions.

"Are you going to have the baby naturally or are you having a C-section?"

What on God's green earth is up with this question? Why do you care? Does this affect your day to day life? And not only that, but no matter how I answer this question, you're either going to visualize me sliced open on an operating table or pushing a person out of my vagina. No thanks.

"Are you going to breastfeed?"

Again, why is this any of your business? And it's always the first question people ask when you announce you're expecting. I don't know, I've been pregnant for like five minutes, the baby is the size of a poppy seed. Stop talking to me.

"Are you sure it's not twins?"

Yes, I'm sure. As was the ultrasound technician with her fancy machine that LOOKS INSIDE MY INTERNAL ORGANS. Did you look inside my internal organs with a fancy macine? No? Then shut up. It's also a way of implying that I'm huge. I know I'm huge. I can see myself. Now go away.

"That's going to be a big baby."

Um, no. She's just regular sized. I'm assuming by saying this you are again implying that I'm huge, which again, I'm aware of, but thank you for drawing attention to it.

"Are you going to get an epidural?"

What do you mean am I going to get an epidural? Why wouldn't I get an epidural? Last time I checked, nobody gives out gold medals or cash prizes if you give birth without pain medications. I'm not trying to be a hero.

***Back story on this one: I developed pregnancy induced hypertension at 32 weeks with Annabelle, and then preeclampsia at 37 weeks and was induced. Now THIS...this...was my favorite comment I got.**

"Oh, you know, medical inductions can be so stressful on the baby. I have a friend whose preeclampsia is actually getting better, she really wants to go into labor naturally and is planning a beautiful home water birth. Maybe it will get better for you."

Huh? Get better? Are you high? Yes, it will get better when I am induced and have the baby, dumbass. I'm glad your friend's preeclampsia is "getting better." Tell her she's doing the right thing, because people never die from preeclampsia. OH WAIT, yes they do. Now take your birthing pool and essential oils and get out of my way.

I thought that all this fun would be over when I had the baby, but much to my dismay, it got worse.

"Oh just wait until..."

I am so over hearing this. I can't share any exciting milestones with anybody without them saying "Just wait until..." When does this end? Like I'm going to become a great grandmother and people will say "Just wait until you have great great grandchildren." No thanks, I plan to be dead before I'm 112. 

"She's so small! My daughter was always in the 99th percentile for weight!"

Cool. Sorry my baby is of average size. But seriously, this one really baffles me. I understand that we all want babies who are growing and thriving, I get that. But what I don't understand is this: at some point in our children's lives, we don't want them to be larger than 99% of people their age. At what point does the bragging about how large children are stop? Because I've never met anybody who said "Oh yes, my 23 year old is 550 pounds! He's in the 98th percentile for weight!"

"Are you really bringing her out in public this early?"

Yes, she will be fine. I'm not going to be that weird mom who sits at home with her baby, afraid to leave the house for months. That's ridiculous, and I simply don't have time for all that nonsense. Yes, I went to the grocery store when the baby was 5 days old. I needed blue cheese, and I didn't trust David to buy the right kind. Besides, she's breastfed (I'm actually shocked that she didn't ask me that too), so she's practically indestructible. 

"Are you really bringing the baby out in this weather?"

Yes I'm really bringing the baby out in this weather. What a stupid question. Obviously, she's out in this weather because you can see that she is with me, outside, in this weather. She'll be fine, I promise. It's not like I'm taking her out in a bathing suit in the middle of January.

In conclusion, don't ask a pregnant woman what route her baby will make its exit. Don't ask if she's breastfeeding. Some women truly can't breastfeed no matter how much they want to, and it can be a very sore subject. As long as she's feeding the baby SOMETHING, it's really none of your business. Don't tell a pregnant woman she's huge. If you put on a few pounds, how would you feel if I walked up to you at the Harris Teeter and yelled "Whoa! You're getting huge!" The answer is horrible, you would feel horrible. Don't criticize a stranger's parenting, at least not to their face. Wait until they leave and then call a friend and talk crap about them, like any respectable person would. The only time you need to be concerned is if you see a baby being abused, then by all means, do something then. 

DISCLAIMER: I know that in my first post, I let everyone know that any off color comments I made are not a reflection on my mother's parenting. I would like to retract that statement, at least temporarily. I wanted to go to her house today and raid her pantry and do my laundry for free. Instead she went out of town. Now I have to eat my own food and pay to do the laundry at the laundromat, and I'm not happy about it.

The People Have Spoken

Well folks, the people have spoken. There has been an overwhelming demand for me to start a blog. At first, I didn't know if I should accept the challenge. Writing hilarious one-liners on Facebook is easy as pie, but was I up for being that witty for a couple paragraphs? I guess we'll find out.

My main reason for starting this blog is because I am sick of people telling me I need to start a blog. The second is that my main downfall is that a lot of people don't understand my humor. If I accidentally offend someone, I will try to fix it by continuing to talk, which never works, so after I have offended somebody, I have also insulted their haircut, outfit, and ugly children all in the same breath. My deadpan sense of humor just works better written out, with a filter.

For example, my latest conversation about starting a blog went a little something like this:
Guy: "You know Laura, you're hysterical on Facebook, you should really start a blog."
Me: "Thanks, Guy, but I have a four month old. My only guaranteed free time is from 7:00 -8:30 AM, and unfortunately that time slot is all booked up with reruns of Dog the Bounty Hunter, but thank you for acknowledging that I am hysterical."
Guy: "Are you sure you wouldn't think about doing it? If your blog gets popular, sometimes people will want to put advertisements on your blog and you can make money from it."
Me: "Really now? Of course it will get wildly popular, what kind of money are we talking?"
Guy: "I'm not sure, at least 20 dollars a month probably."
Me: "Wow, 20 dollars a month? Splendid! I've done a lot more for a lot less, how do I get started?"

This is a prime example of why I should stick to posting on Facebook and just not interact with people face to face AT ALL.

With that being said, it's no secret that I'm destined for greatness, possibly even stardom. Unfortunately, I am carrying around a few extra pounds and I think that anonymous Internet fame would be the best avenue to take right now.

Also, it's time to stop using my baby as an excuse for not doing things. When I was pregnant, I dreamed of having this baby who only wanted to be held by me, cried when I left the room, and was hanging off of my boob all the time. Instead, I got a baby who doesn't even notice when I leave the house, and she has a strictly business relationship with my boob. But, I still use her as an excuse for why I'm late, or that I can't do things. Last month, I was late picking up a friend. I told her that the baby was fussy and I had to feed her before I left. But in reality, I had just bought a variety pack of lunch meat, and a variety pack of sliced cheese, and I was sitting at the kitchen table sampling different lunch meats with the different sliced cheeses to see which ones would pair the best while Annabelle was staring at the pattern on the couch, and time got away from me.

Hopefully, I will be able to post often on this blog. And I'm sure I will, until the new season of Dog and Beth: On the Hunt premieres on CMT.

DISCLAIMER: I'm sure my mother and her friends will be reading this. Like I said earlier, I have a dry sense of humor. Any off color statements or jokes I make are no reflection on her parenting. I certainly wasn't raised that way.