The "Shit" Whisperer

Ok, this might just be TMI, but I have to get it off my chest. I overcame a HUGE obstacle yesterday and I'm very proud.

My office is a nice, brand new condo that's only about 900 sf. Although it is a very nice office, it has 3 problems: 1: There is only one bathroom, 2: My co-worker, Dannon's office is right beside the bathroom, and 3: the walls are paper thin.

I've worked here since the end of October 08 and am always terrified to go potty here. Any time I have to pee, I go in the bathroom and turn on the water. I hate him being able to hear me piss and I know if I hear him so clearly, he can hear me! Well, there has been a few times when I ingested some McDonald's + coffee in the morning and was having difficulty "holding" it. Usually if I have to do number two, I leave and go to Kmart across the street. Who knew anyone could be more comfortable shitting in Kmart than their own office? The real problem is that I am the only female at my office. As men, they expect each other to lay their stunt down. It's a little different when you are a girl.

So, this brings me to yesterday. It was late in the day and I had already taken lunch. I was sitting at my desk and my stomach started rumbling. I just tried to ignore it a few times. Then, I got little goosebumps all down my arms. I knew right then that I needed to go. But, I had already taken my lunch....so Kmart was out of the question. As time passed, I was getting desperate. Not only was Dannon in his office and off the phone, but we had a someone sitting at the receptionist desk on the OTHER side of the bathroom filling out a application! So, in my desperation, I text my brother who lives about 2 miles from my work saying "you home?" because my plan was to just "run out to play a bill" aka blow up his guest bath. Well, after NO response from my no good brother, I was almost in tears! So, I heard the applicant leave and I did what any person in need would do; I just went for it!

So I get in the bathroom and I turn the water on and the fan. I quietly tested the waters to make sure we weren't going to get the "dive bomb" affect. I was rocking back and fourth on the toilet trying to quietly release what I could. I noticed that I was whispering to myself to stay calm and focused. And then, it happened....LOUDLY. And when it happened, all I could do was laugh. You could hear me giggling from the bathroom for about 5 minutes after each "crop dusting" session. When I finished, I felt so relieved. Not only relieved that I got to go, but relieved that I was no longer terrified to answer nature's call at my office.

I left out of there like a pro. I walked out spraying the air freshener and loudly exclaiming while laughing "if I were you, I wouldn't go in there right now!" I've learned two things from this experience....I no longer have to be the "shit whisperer" in the office and that I shouldn't eat McDonald's breakfast burritos before work. Enough said.

In there like swimwear!

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It takes a thief....

Saturday afternoon, I sat my daughter down with Sesame Street so that I could pick up the house before our night out. After cleaning the kitchen, I found her in foyer area sitting under our secretary. I asked her what she was doing and in a very small, two-year-old voice, she replied, "Cadence playing." I knew that had to mean she had been up to no good. So I said "ok, come on, let's change your diaper." At that time, I didn't know that I meant that so literally. On her table in the picture above is what I found in her diaper, minus the wipes. Let's inventory, shall we?

1. Several pieces of change totaling $0.78.
2. My missing pearl bracelet, only later to find the necklace under her bed.
3. A hairpin of mine that she took out of the bathroom (Thank goodness she didn't get stuck.)
4. One cornflake

And last but not least, when I started to change her diaper, I found multiple wet wipes stuffed down the front of her diaper and the wipes opened but cleverly hidden under the chase lounge.

I used to think she would be a bean counter...but I had no idea she would steal the beans!

Deadbeat Disney

Ok, I know I might get stoned for saying anything harsh about Disney, but I've been "reliving" a lot of Disney movies again here lately because I have a two year old little girl. I've noticed that several of the classics only have one parent. What's the deal? Did ol' Walt get abandoned as a kid? Either one of them have died or they don't even mentioned the other one! And let's not even get into Bambi. I watched that and I just got pissed! He's the king of the forest! At least the asshole could be paying some child support or something! Bambi didn't even know his dad until his momma got shot down in cold blood and there was no one else to take him in. If he was around, Bambi's mamma might not have got a shot in the ass! She sure could have used an extra set of eye's but nooooo, he was too busy standing on rocks looking down at all the other hoes, I mean does....typical men! Just to back up some of my ranting here, take a look....

The Little Mermaid (no mother)
Snow White (no parents)
Pinocchio (no fake mother)
Dumbo (no daddy)
Bambi (deadbeat daddy)
Cinderella (both parents dead, stepmom a bitch)
Peter Pan (no parents, just a lost boy)
The Sword and the Stone (no mother)
Robin Hood (the mother rabbit had like 20 baby rabbits and there was no dad in the whole movie)
Aladdin (the Sultan wasn't married)
Beauty and the Beast (no mother)
Lilo and Stitch (no parents, just an inadequete sister to care for her)
A Goofy Movie (Goofy isn't married, never mentions mother)

Those are the only ones I can remember....I think i'm going to have to develop a conspiracy theory.....

Outer Space

And now I'm back, from outer space....

Sorry it's been awhile. Here's what I have been doing while I was away....

Looking for shoes under the bed; chasing my new cat Henry; stopping Cade from carring Henry by the neck; eating little debbie cakes; fucking off on myspace and facebook just a tad; calling my co-workers douches under my breath; pretending to be a lesbian; pretending to be on a diet; cleaning up behind a two-year-old; secretly plotting against my 3-year-old nephew; daydreaming of ways to take over the world; realizing how stupid my best friend really is; realizing how much I love my best friend; trying to decide if I think my brother is really gay or if it's just me; drinking shit tons of coffee; firing some deadweight beshes at my office; being a closet cosmotologist; drinking cheap boxed wine and Arbor Mist (what can I say, I'm broke!); wondering what the fuck happened to all my tax return money; fucking off with the Wii; screaming at my dogs; wondering if my dogs are deaf; makin money, spending money; and wanting to dance like Kevin Bacon in Footloose; oh, and trying to remember my gmail username and password so I can blog again!

Oh, and I found this alien when I was there. Cute huh?

To all those who have aged well....fuck off!

Ok, I always said that I would be the one to "embrace" my aging as something that is natural and beautiful. Well, all I can say is fuck that! Last week, I found my first permanent wrinkle on my face. It's on the left side and I guess is considered a 'laugh' line. You know, I know this is normal, but I'm fucking pissed! I'm only 24 years old and all the fuckers in my life have given me a wrinkle! Damn the husband, damn the hard job, damn the kid and friendships. It's all your fault!!! You all owe me. I'll send you my botox bill and let you all figure out how to split the difference. M'k? If you fall into the "damned" category above, don't call me for a week! Text first to test the waters if I'm still pissed about my wrinkle...

Haha, just kidding...but the fucking wrinkle sucks! I'm depressed...play with my boobs.

I'm disgusted....

Ok, for those of you who have "light tummies" or aren't down for talking about real-life shit (no pun intended), you might want to bypass this post.

I just have to share with SOMEONE, anyone, what my asshole husband did yesterday morning. First, let's clarify: I don't call him an asshole out of meaness. I call him one out of honesty. Ok, moving on...

He gets up and like 5 minutes before me and goes into our bathroom which is in the master bed. Like most married couples, I come on in while he's taking a shit and turn on my electronics to make myself decent and prepare to take a shower. Well, about three steps into the bathroom, I notice something is definately not right. My nose hairs start to singe and my eyes start to water. My brain can't even function to identify where the stinch is coming from and instead of hauling ass out the bathroom, I just stand there, paralized like a deer in headlights. The smell was so horrible that I begin to feel my stomach pushing its contents upward.

By this time, he is finished and walking around me to get out the door while I'm bent over trying to keep from upchucking. Everytime I try to stand up, I gag. I look up and my husband is standing there laughing at me because his shit has made his wife seriously sick to her stomach. I'm cussing, he's laughing harder. Which pisses me off more. Never in my life have I smelled something so rotten, so vile.

Ever since, my stomach hasn't been the same. And when I think of the other morning, I throw up a little in my mouth. This has led me to wonder "Why do men think it's hilarious for us to be disgusted by their shit/farts?" What part of their brain controls the fact that they find humor in making us physically sick?

Don't they know it's only funny when we shit? Gawh.

Long time reader, first time blogger....

Hi, my name is Ivy and I am a self-proclaimed writer. So, extreme boredom and the crazy idea that I actually have something to say that other human beings give a shit about has led me to create this blog. Please, if you are a hater and you don't give a shit, just follow this link to http://www.fuckoff.com/. As for the rest of you, I hope that you find some sort of enjoyment out of me making an ass of myself on blogspot.com. Or at least find it something to pacify your boredom momentarily.



Now that the introductions are out of the way, let's get started! But, before we do that, my attorneys have advised me to include this advisory:







Enjoy!