Saturday, October 31, 2009

I would like to suggest Nuns, fully clothed ghosts, eskimos, and ninja hiding in a huge pile of coats, parkas, long pants and various other articles of clothing


This holiday started out as a way to honor dead people and ghosts. All those crazy Celtics left treats on their porches so that the crazy ghosts and demons and whatever would give them a good crop. It’s pagan, it’s weird, it’s paranormal which all obviously lead to a logical way to celebrate…

Slutty costumes.

I can’t even begin to describe every single slutty costume I have come across so far this Halloween so I’ll just hit the highlights. Remember that TODAY is actual Halloween and all of these costumes have been worn in public all week.

First of all, slutty Halloween is apparently reserved for the 15-17 year old demographic. It’s one thing to be fully grown and make a decision to let your business hang out, but so far all I see are underage jailbait who probably still have stuffed animals on their beds. Honestly. I don’t want to see your perky 17 year old boobs. I’ve already had an accurate assessment of my own boobs thanks to the alterations woman.

List of slutty costumes I have seen:
1) sexy Batman
This seems bizarre to me on so many levels. Wasn’t batman all muscley and masculine? Also didn’t he wear like a billion dollars of armor to cover up his body? Also, isn’t he a DUDE? Nothing says sexy like cross dressing.

2) sexy nurse
Not the cool Grey’s Anatomy or ER nurses that wear the scrubs and the crocs (which are remarkably UN-sexy I might add). This is apparently the centerfold pin-up nurse. This costume requires the shortest white dress possible with a big red cross on one boob, lots of cleavage (or as much as this unfortunate little lady could stuff in there) and a stethoscope. Don’t forget the oh-so-subtle nametag of “Nurse Nasty”. I don’t want my nurses nasty at all. In fact, my nurses need to be “Nurse Cleanliness so that I don’t transmit a communicable disease to you that infest germ ridden hospitals” But that won’t fit on the nametag.

3) sexy cop
OK seriously, who is letting these kids into the sex shop?! I don’t think they sell this crap at Wal-Mart. Or maybe they do and I have just turned into an old crotchety woman. Bring me some cats and hot tea while I watch Matlock! Anyhow, booty skimmer dress, hand cuffs, and again with the clever nametag “Officer Nasty”

4) French Maid
This is self explanatory. What was unique about this situation was that there were 2 French Maids standing together. Maid A had on a lovely “I am your wildest fantasy and I promise I won’t give you herpes…I think” ensemble. Tragically inappropriate and also inspiring wild jealousy because why the heck does a 17 year old have better boobs than me?! Not fair! But soon enough “Generic Pimp” or “Generic Rapper” or “Generic Aren’t I HILARIOUS because I’m wearing clothes from the 70’s and an afro wig” teen male will impregnate her and her perfect little body and then I’ll be all “See I told you so…Sexy Maids = saggy post-baby boobs. And who says I can’t do math” And then I’ll be all “You have to be an adult to properly handle the responsibility of fishnets and high heeled boots like me”

Maid B was actually kind of my hero of that particular day. Let’s call her a “healthy, big-boned” young lady. She was rocking that same costume with some fierceness. Including rainbow striped knee high socks. Work it girl.

5) sexy Alice in Wonderland
Um…I’ve read Alice in Wonderland. She’s like 10. That is messed up. But she also drops acid and hallucinates through most of the story so, I guess it’s cool because she is a very mature 10 year old.

6) sexy Toga
Togas suggest frat parties. Frat parties suggest alcohol. Alcohol suggests drunk. Drunk suggests puking. Puking always equals not sexy. Therefore, togas equal not sexy. And also smelling like a frat party.

7) sexy witch
I think if you were a witch, you wouldn’t even need to be sexy. Why manipulate everyone with your physical appearance when you could just use a potion to make them do what you want. I’m just saying that if I was a witch, I think I would need much more practical attire to ride on my broom and cut the legs off frogs and what not. Nobody should get that close to an open fire and a cauldron with a dress that short. That’s too much of a risk for me.

8) sexy bumblebee
Bumblebees sting you and then they die. And if lots of bees sting you and you are allergic, then you die. They all sleep with the same queen bee. Ew. So are you the queen bee or are you one of the drones? They are covered with pollen. Nothing says sexy like snot and watery eyes.

9) sexy angel
This is perhaps my most favorite inappropriate use of a Halloween costume by a teenager of all time. First of all, she was all Megan Fox gorgeous which is totally irritating all by itself. The costume consisted of a black leather mini dress and huge white glittery wings accented with the traditional high boots, body glitter and so on. I couldn’t figure this one out. Are you a dangerous angel? Are you benevolent? What’s the deal with the black and white?

Then it occurred to me that angels are androgynous. Like, minus all the bits that you need to make the outfit “sexy”. Also, aren’t they like fearsome warriors and so powerful that they are frightening? Somehow, gossamer shiny wings don’t really scream “I am capable of fighting formidable and awesome battles” Like, remember when the angels appear all over the different stories of the Bible and everyone is always “sore afraid”? I don’t think she meant to scare anyone off with the shortness of that dress.

I think that if I saw a real angel it would be like this:

Angel: Thou hast been chosen to receive a message from the Lord most High.
Me: OK, dude seriously…who is this? How did you make that costume so fearsome? Where are your little glittery angel wings?
Angel: I knowest not of glitter. I am the archangel warrior, chosen to defend and protect and deliverest to you a blessing of glad tidings. Thou art a very lucky soul.
Me: *trickle trickle trickle*
Angel: Woman, hast thou wettest thouself? Art thou seriously kidding me with this?
Me: Ga..kkkkk..Paf..bug
Angel: OK. Maybe thou wasn’t ready for the bestowing of glad tidings.
Me: No sorry. It’s just that I thought you would be girlier and wearing less clothes. That’s what angels look like these days.
Angel: When I get back, I am seriously having a talk with the Lord about this.

FYI: that whole conversation is actually not offensive in any way because I am a Christian and love Jesus and I fully believe it’s totally OK to laugh.

I’m not wearing a costume this year. Somehow “crazy lady who cuddles with a snuggie” just has no chance of ever being sexy. Especially if you add “Nasty” to it on a nametag.

Bonus word count:
Slutty: 4
Boobs: 5
Sexy: 17
Dude: 2
Crap: 1

Friday, October 30, 2009

Thankful Thursday

I’ll keep it quick.

I am thankful for the surprise work that came my way this week. I got a request on Tuesday to perform for 2 hours on Thursday. I love it when that happens.

I am thankful for the babysitting co-op. That means that Luke and I have alone time for 3 and a half hours tonight. We have big super awesome plans. We are going to be sitting on the couch and watching TV. WOOHOO!!

I am thankful for my super awesome husband (I feel like that is a theme on Thankful Thursday)

I am thankful for Baby E and I can’t wait to see you. Thanks for pitching a fit in the grocery store and getting your mom to buy you the cereal you wanted. You are gonna make a great toddler.

I am thankful that today is my dad’s birthday!

I am thankful for my psychiatrist laying this little gem on me this week “He was a Freudian. Well…that’s because he was Freud.” That guy cracks me up and is also really smart and helpful. Just like me!

I am thankful that Halloween will finally be over tomorrow. I am so tired of the week long candy extravaganza. Maybe if everyone gave out Dr. Pepper and burritos and Olive Garden I would totally be into it.

Let’s hear it. Thankful for…

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Felt up by an Asian woman...AGAIN

Asian woman love my boobs.

I know this because they seem to always be touching them without any permission. Well, really this is only the second time, but hello…this is the second time an Asian woman has fondled my boobs! If you missed out on the original molestation, check it out here.

I went to the alterations place to get a bridesmaids dress fixed. I’ve been to this tailor several times and she is very friendly and does good work and has never had a prior history of un-invited boob grabbing which is always a bonus for me. I prefer for folks to simply give me the courtesy of asking first. Depending on my mood/medication level, you never know what my answer could be.

Anyhow, I put on the dress which is intended to be strapless. It fits great in the middle, but the top was made for Pamela Anderson. She took one look at me and announced “You too flat. Too small up here.” Well, great. Thank you for the encouragement. She handed me two humongous fake boobie inserts and told me to shove those on in. Apparently, my fake boob technique needs work and she kept telling me to “push them up more. No no. More high. Push up high.” This is when she placed her hands on my delicate little flat booblets and began flopping them up and down to show me exactly how high they needed to be. There was cupping, there was bouncing, and I’m about a foot taller than her so she pretty much had her face right in there too.

But the fun wasn’t over.

So now that we have established proper boob buoyancy, we needed to know how much to take in on the sides. This is done by placing one hand on my boob and moving it all over to check for smoothness while tugging on the side seam with the other hand. Then repeat. Then get the pins in and check both cups for smoothness and evenness.

Once my chest had been completed violated, it was time to assault other areas of my body. Fortunately, we were done with the touchiness and we were ready to move on to verbal molestation. I needed a pair of pants taken in at the waist (which ended up being 4 inches in thank you very freaking much) so I changed into the pants and stood back in front of the mirror. This is the conversation as a lifted my shirt just enough to bare my midriff and waistline of the pants:

Her: Oohh!! You have babies!
Me: Yes, yes I do.
Her: I know because I see your belly look ruined. That happen with the babies. Stretch out the skin and make it look bad.
Me: Yeeeeeep.
Her: Ooooooo, you must have BIG baby. Very big. Stretch out lots of skin and make it look wrinkled.
Me: Uh-huh. Big babies.
Her: And no fixing bad stretchy skin. No cream work. Maybe laser would help. It very stretchy.
Me: Yes. It is very stretchy. Thanks. It’s like a party trick.
Her: Soooo wrinkly.
Me: Thank you.
Her: I bet your legs have stretchy skin too. Very damage from big baby.
Me: Yeah, maybe we could just go back to touching my boobs.

I didn’t really say the last thing, but honestly; I’m having serious image problems right now. Or maybe I am really flattered that people like my boobs so much. It’s hard to tell right now. Maybe this is why I don’t go to Chinese food places.

Tuesdays with Chuck E.: Episode 2; the Halloween edition

Luke and I spent a few Halloweens at CEC. Every year we all got dressed up and let the kids trick or treat and then had a big staff party. The first Halloween, I desperately tried to get Luke to wear a costume that coordinated with mine. We spent weeks trying to come to some sort of agreement.

Me: You are my boyfriend. You are supposed to match me.

Luke: I ‘m not wearing anything that has tights.

Me: I never asked you to wear tights.

Luke: OK, let’s review. So far my options have been Romeo, Robin Hood, or Superman.

Me: You don’t even have to wear tights for Superman.

Luke: You’re right. I just have to wear underwear outside of my clothes.

Me: How about Tarzan?

Luke: Seriously, woman.

When we got to the costume place, we still had no agreement. I found the best Dorothy costume and totally decided that Luke was going to be a scarecrow. This was at the exact moment that he announced to me that he was going to be Elvis. Not even hot, young Elvis. He picked jumpsuit Elvis.

Me: Dorothy and Elvis are NOT a couple!

Luke: Yeah they are! Like she had ruby shoes and he has blue suede shoes.

Me: You are an idiot.

Luke: And you are going to draw chest hairs on me for this awesome costume.

We made it to work early that day, me with my gorgeous ruby slippers and Luke with his sharpie sideburns and chest hair. His jumpsuit was all white with rhinestones and everything. As we were setting up for the day I told him “DO NOT get food all over that white jumpsuit because I don’t want to lose the deposit” So he assures me that he has handled food before and he’s not stupid and he can manage to keep it clean for one day. Which is why no one was surprised when 10 minutes later his costume was destroyed.

He was decorating birthday cakes with bright red gel. When he picked one up to carry it across the room he suddenly turned into some sort of Harlem globetrotter/circus clown and fumbled the thing in the air for several seconds before finally deciding to smash it face first into his fake chest hair and then let it slide the entire length of his white jumpsuit.

So my immediate concern was “don’t lose the deposit!” which prompted me to drag him into the kitchen without fully thinking through what I was about to do. I stood his jumpsuited self in front of the dish sink and sprayed him down with the big dish hose. This is when I realized that cheap white jumpsuit+water = invisibility.

Right as the kitchen filled up with employees and the store filled with innocent children, my future husband was standing there essentially wearing nothing but his tightie whities complete with smeary chest hair and dripping sideburns. He had to sit in the kitchen for about an hour before he finally dried and was safe to be in front of kids without the risk of getting arrested for indecent exposure. But I looked awesome.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

But they can totally have burritos, nachos, or just about anything from Taco Bell

Sometimes I wonder if people we encounter out in public think I’m an unfit mother.

I’m totally not unfit by the way. I’m awesome.

But I can see how people would get the wrong idea. For example…Because I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (I’ve mentioned that before, right?) I have MAJOR issues with stickiness. I’m not being all overly dramatic here. I actually cannot tolerate stickiness. It’s like a totally common symptom of OCD. I’m not even lying. Wikipedia that crap if you don’t believe me. In order of severity, here are a few of the things that can drive me into panic attacks (absolutely NOT an exhaustive list):

1) Driving
2) New Places
3) Repetitive Clicking Noises
4) Stickiness
5) Public Parks
6) Your face

We were at McDonalds a few nights ago and my dear husband decided to buy our children ice cream cones because they were only 50 cents and kids love ice cream and all that. Whenever he does that, I am forced to turn my body completely away from my dear offspring. If they try to touch me at all, I sometimes loudly react by saying “Don’t touch me! Luke don’t let them touch me!” Also, I may occasionally aggressively shove my chair back when sticky comes near me almost knocking over the margarita at the table behind us and seriously consider drinking all of said margarita if it weren’t for the fact that I’m already medicated and things like that aren’t “socially acceptable” and Luke would “Seriously leave you here woman.”

So just for the record, don’t offer me sticky things, or touch me when you are sticky, or pretend to touch me, or chase me around with something sticky because that crap is not funny! And if you see me squeezing my eyes and chanting and turning my back on two delightfully adorable children, check and see if they have ice cream cones or suckers in their hands before you make any snap judgements.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Thankfulness on a cold wet Thursday

I really am thankful for a lot of things. I’m trying to narrow it down. Here are a few of my favorites for this week.

1) youtube
Youtube is like God’s little gift to agoraphobic people. I could spend all day watching clips. Sometimes I do spend all day. And then Luke is all “What are you doing? Are you still watching youtube?! Geez woman! You need to get up and do something!” At which point I am all “But hel-looo. Improv Everywhere! And also watch these cats fighting. It’s funny because someone put captions on it like they are actually talking. What a freaking comedy genius!” And then he goes “Man it’s really good for you that you are pretty.”

2) Cold Wet Cloudy Days
This is because I get to make a fire in the fireplace. I could make a fire when it is sunny out, but then people are like “Do you realize how hot it is? Why are you making it hotter?” Well, duh I know it’s hot outside. That’s why I turned the air conditioner down to 52 degrees. I don’t want to waste the firewood who gave it's life for me by heating up a perfectly warm house. That is because I care all about the environment. Also, I get to wear my toe socks.

3) Marriage
I love when people get married. I love being married. I love teaching people how to make their marriage fun, close, and lasting. Sometimes I think that our example may be a little skewed since already this week I’ve told Luke I would kick him in the face, the stomach, the nether regions, called him stupid and made fun of his online gaming. He has called me an idiot, a crazy person, told me he would fart on me, and told me I ruin everything about life. What normal people fail to realize is that we can joke like this because we love each other and also it’s always funny to threaten a kick to the crotch. I don’t advocate this method for everyone, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.

But honestly, I love truly happy marriages. I love teaching and learning about Christian marriages every week. I love that my husband just made a fire in the fire place for me, fixed me a drink, and cuddles with me on the couch whenever I ask him to. I love that he supports me in therapy and patiently is learning how to be a better safe person to this crazy OCD, agoraphobic every day, which is not something he ever asked for. I love his passion for saving and protecting marriages. And I love that he is a big ‘ol geek face nerd.

4) All Of You Fine People
One year ago I was learning what it felt like to carry around the title of mental illness. Even when you it’s coming and not one single person is surprised, finally having someone tell you officially “You have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder” is life changing. You don’t go back to how it used to be. So a few months later I started this blog to get the thoughts out of my mind and into the entire free world.

Surprisingly, all of you fine people seem to like my story telling for the most part. Sometimes painfully truthful and sometimes unbelievably true. And for that, I thank you. As I thank you, I would like to humbly ask for your help. I would like to broaden the scope of this silly little blog. What I am asking is simple: If you like what you see, will you share my URL with other people via email, twitter, facebook, word of mouth, or whatever. Also, if you like what you read, will you post comments and let me know. My therapist says that I need lots of positive reinforcement so really you are helping a poor little crazy girl. You are such a good person. Finally, soon you will be able to vote for my blog on various sites I have linked. You can’t technically vote yet because they have to be approved and whatever. But soon.

All of you fine people are the reason I continue to gain confidence in accepting OCD and agoraphobia as legitimate conditions. All of you fine people have helped a silly little crazy girl. I love all your faces.

PS Follow me on Twitter @angelacavett.  Yes, I have a twitter now.  I am such a conformist.  Don't all of you go jumping off a bridge.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Tuesdays with Chuck E.: Episode 1: I don't translate well in sign language

I’ve decided to start a new series (since I am really good at keeping up weekly features as proven by constantly posting Thankful Thursday on Saturday or Sunday). As many people know, Luke and I spent several of our younger years employed at the illustrious Chuck E. Cheese’s “Where a Kid Can Be a Kid”. It was crappy, hard work and produced some unbelievable stories, 911 calls, vomit, nudity, little old ladies slapping around huge men while hurling racial slurs, DHS visits, blood, fire, pictures, and even a few videos. I will attempt to convey some of the absolute insanity each week although I’m not entirely sure that words can even do it justice.

At CEC, we were known for our live shows. (Which is somewhat sad but also entirely true). This is where all of the adolescent employees including myself danced and sang along with Mr. Munch’s Make-Believe Band and all the kids gathered around us and made us feel like we were nerdy, uniformed, CEC rock stars.

In between the 2 songs, one of us took the mic to amp up the kids for CEC’s big appearance. As if the flashing lights, pop, and noise didn’t already have them running around like an ADHD field trip that forgot to pack the adderoll. So this particular evening, I grabbed the mic to give CEC his grand entrance (and ultimately get him off the stage so he could retire back to the costume room to scratch himself and drool until the next show.) There were about 15 kids all crowded around the stage seated on the floor which was totally normal during any given live show. This is how it went down:

Me: (Overly excited emcee voice) How’s everybody doing?!
Kids: *blank stares*
Me: I don’t think you heard me! HOW’S EVERYBODY DOING?!
Kids: *blinks, coughs, stares*
Me: OK, if you guys want to see Chuck E. you’re going to have to do better than that!! Let’s hear it!! Chuck E!! Chuck E!! Chuck E!!
Kids: *…………….sneeze*
Me: What’s the problem?!! Can’t you hear me?!! I said you are going to have to cheer or he won’t come out!! ARE YOU GUYS DEAF OR SOMETHING!!?

Yes. Yes they were.

In fact all 15 of them were deaf. They were on a field trip with the School for the Deaf. And their teacher who was NOT deaf took the opportunity to yell at me.

Angela Murphree: Offending large groups of children since 1997.

Blood, Burning and Bridesmaids

I’m agoraphobic. I don’t leave the house much. I am forced to bring the entertainment to myself. This is a true story of one day last week.

My dear husband was home sick. I had to force him to stay home because he believes that he is incapable of contracting illnesses. He uses his mind to defeat any germ stupid enough to try and invade his powerhouse of a body. I have even seen him verbally assault germs that come near him. Usually, those illnesses are housed in my delicate body and he is kind of verbally assaulting me in the process.

Anyhow, he was “sick” (but refusing to acknowledge it and only staying home because he was just trying to appease me and the fever was totally just because it was hot in the house and the thermometer doesn’t work right and he’ll take the Nyquil but just because it couldn’t hurt to have a good nights sleep) and laying on the couch. I was sitting across from him on another chair and he asked me to toss him the remote. Since I have no athletic prowess to speak of, this seemed to be a fairly innocuous request. What we both failed to realize, however, was that I had suddenly developed the arm of that kid from that movie where he’s like 12 and breaks his arm and when it heals he’s all super-pitcher and he plays for the majors.

So I ever so delicately throw the remote to him…and smack him square in the mouth. Of course, he is bleeding everywhere in about 1 second. I blame him for the pitiful catch. Multiple profanities are spewing from his mouth almost as much as the blood and I catch something about “knocking out my **** tooth”. As soon as he runs to the bathroom, I start laughing because dang that was funny. Lily is laughing too so I used this opportunity to teach her that we only laugh at hurt people when they can’t hear us no matter how funny it is. This is because I am an awesome parent and always try to find teachable moments.


We averted the potential crisis of Luke bleeding to death and he was back to resting on the couch only this time he was clutching the remote like it was the last piece of bacon on earth and sporting a very manly and humongous swollen and busted up lip. This is when I get a phone call from my sister in another state who is getting married in like 3 weeks.

Her: Hey did you get your bridesmaids dress in the mail yet?
Me: No, and I thought it was coming today. I think it is going to need major alterations.
Her: Yeah, well I think I sent it to the wrong address.
Me: Where did you send it?
Her: To *** SW ***th street.
Me: Yeah, that’s not my address
Her: Crap.

Turns out it was somewhere in the vicinity of my house, just not at my house. So we both hit Google and tried to find the owners of the address. It seems that the address is attached to not one, but TWO therapists, and I’m all “great like I need MORE therapists”. She calls and leaves a message but odds are growing greater that I may be attending her wedding in either my bridesmaids dress from our other sister’s wedding or my own wedding dress which personally was my vote.

After about 8 calls back and forth between her, me, and the guy who eventually called back and claimed to have my dress, I decided I would rather not venture out at night to a stranger’s house so she called the guy and lied that my husband was out of town and my kids were in bed so I just couldn’t get over there tonight. THEN, Luke decided that he was tired of all the back and forth and would just go get the dang dress because he totally felt fine and people that are not sick can go pick up dresses. So, she calls him back AGAIN and lies AGAIN and says “Oh, well it just so happens that her husband is exactly in your neighborhood at this exact moment because he was totally on his way back to town and he’ll just get the dress right now” to which I’m sure the guy was all “Um, OK weirdo. Just get your stupid dress off my porch.”

MEANWHILE…I had a fabulous fire going in the fire place because it was cold and fires are pretty and I thought I would be helpful and throw another log on the fire to keep it going until Luke returned with my dress. I picked up a super heavy piece of wood and carefully placed it in the fireplace because I am all about safety. Then while I was sitting in my chair minding my own business about 15 minutes later, the fiery log literally leapt from the fire place and rolled out onto the brick hearth. So NOW my hearth is on fire and I think the log might actually have feelings and I feel really guilty about ever burning it in the first place. What if it had a log family or log pets or was in some kind of log relationship and I just burned it and left it no choice but to leap out for freedom. While I admired its tenacity, I couldn’t let my house burn down. Fortunately Luke arrived in time to save the day/re-murder the log.

The moral of this story is: Do not bust up your husband’s face, lie about his whereabouts, send him on girl errands, and then try to burn his house down.

Monday, October 19, 2009

The Cymbalta commercial is trying to kill me

I take a lot of medications for a lot of mental illnesses for I feel as though this qualifies me to offer an evaluation of a certain medication used for depression.

The Cymbalta commercials are making me depressed.

Maybe my crazy brain is already prone to it or something, but I swear that these are the saddest commercials in history. They are designed to make you sad. These commercials are like giving a new puppy to a cute smiley faced little kid and then shooting the puppy and telling them that Santa Claus is not real. Or maybe gathering a bunch a people in a room for a big announcement to tell them that they all win $1000, but while they are in there, you steal all of their purses and wallets and mess stuff up in their offices and take the labels off everyone’s’ lunches before telling them that they actually owe $1000.

Let’s break it down a little:

1) The sad music
This is the music I imagine is played at angels’ funerals. If I wasn’t depressed before, the music really sets the mood for me. I also visualize a sad clown just off screen playing the clarinet (is that a clarinet?) part. I think they are showing him pictures of dead puppies while he plays.

2) The sad dog
This commercial is so sad that even the dog has depression. Thanks Cymbalta. Now you’ve even screwed up my dog. He’s all “I don’t even have the will to lick my own balls anymore. What does my life even mean!?!”

3) The raining
As if all the images of sad people and sad dogs weren’t enough, they are all trapped inside due to some never ending rainstorm. The woman lets us know her anguish by the perfectly crafted single tear. The poor woman can’t even be miserable outdoors because of the raining. Then when she lets her depressed dog outside for his business, he’ll come back in with muddy feet and ruin the carpet and that always makes me want to crawl in a hole. Stupid depressed dog.

4) The side effects
So now that I am thoroughly involved in my major depressive episode along with every one around me, Cymbalta assures me that it can help. Great! Because I’m really needing help now. Here’s the thing though. Cymbalta spends the first half of this commercial destroying my will to live, and the second half explaining how Cymbalta might actually kill me. I may have constipation, stroke, unexplained muscle movement, dry mouth, seizures, hallucination and on and on it goes. Because its way better to have a stroke than be depressed. At least then I won’t even remember why I was depressed in the first place. And if Cymbalta doesn’t actually kill me, I might kill myself. Seriously?! This medication may help you not be sad anymore by encouraging you to end your life. Yep. That’ll do it.

So basically, if you are not depressed yet, watch the commercial. Then when you are filled with sadness, Cymbalta can help – unless it makes you totally freaking worse.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Your chin looks like it is trying to break free and make a run for it

I teach piano and voice students. Here are some of the things I have said in my lessons in the last few weeks:


"Rule 1; Don't suck"


"Jump over the fat kid" -referring to Augustus Gloop getting stuck in the tube as a reference for getting into head voice


"Rev your motorcycle"


"The sheep are jumping over the fence. Don't let one of the sheep fall on the fence and die"


"Chew the steak in little bites and don't eat the whole thing at once like you've never had steak before. That's how you choke"


"Here come the birds!! Get those birds off my piano!!"


"See if we can get that dog howling"


"Drink it drink it drink it!"


"Don't eat your face"


"An old man came to listen to you sing. It's his dying wish. Sing loud so he can hear you. And also spit on him"


"I want you sparkling like one of those big 'ol round balls with glitter that you shine lights on" -I couldn't think of the word for disco ball.


"I think you just smacked your head into the ceiling"


"Boo! Now that you got the crap out of your system, unpack your big girl voice and strap it on for a while."


"*raspberry noise* What's rule number one?!"


"Use the motor or the ball is going to fall off the vacuum and hit someone. You don't want that on your conscience."


"If the old man is going to die, at least let it be because you were so good that he felt his life was complete."


"Don't be the broken doorbell. It was horrible. I used to run to the door before the person had a chance to ring it because it was so awful to listen to."


"Put your make-up on!"


"PEACE on earth. Don't urinate on it. Nobody likes that."

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Hmmm...things to be thankful for on Thursday...

There are a lot of things actually. It’s been a rough few weeks around the Cavett house. Between flu and agoraphobia, we’ve been busy. Or actually not busy. Because I’ve been in the house. Not going anywhere. On account of the agoraphobia.


I am thankful for a cuddly dog and a patient husband. Both are equally warm although one is furrier than the other. They let me curl up next to them or around them or squish into the same chair with them and help me get all relaxed and centered. They both sleep in my bed but one of them is a crazy loud snorer. And one of them mumbles in his sleep. And I totally love it.


I am thankful for an obnoxiously persistent therapist and equally unrelenting psychiatrist with whom I would be that lady from that book where she wore her wedding dress for like 50 years and sat around eating old cake or something like that. I didn’t really pay attention much in high school English. Once I turned in a test that read:

“I regret that I am unable to fully answer your insightful questions about the literature as I did not read “The Crucible” on the grounds that the characters were old and I found the entire story to be a little too ‘witch hunty’ for my taste. I like to think of myself as an equal opportunist and hope that some day all witches will have the right to vote and be freed from slavery. I can, however, provide you with a detailed analysis of Glamour magazine’s latest article on how to make your hair shiny and healthy. If you would be interested, I could provide you with a list of ramifications of improper hair care. Although, you seem to have read the article for yourself, as you look radiant this morning.”

Anyhow, without them, I would never attempt to make changes. And I got an A on that test. True story.


I am thankful for things that make me laugh. These things include but are not limited too: Comically oversized objects, people falling down, 2 people falling down, people falling down like a line of dominos, the Sonic commercials, every time referees say ‘penetration’ ‘illegal touching’ or anything that is even the slightest bit dirty, when people use the word ‘duty’, Siamese twins (in a totally respectful, non-offensive way), Luke, and my dog Pete whenever you turn on Gwen Stefani’s “Sweet Escape” because honestly that is hilarious but I don’t do it much because I think it might actually hurt his ears.


FYI: things that are not funny: Butterflies. I HATE those freaky little things.


Happy Thursday!


Also I do not know why the content is all squished together without space inbetween which is why I put little stars in there. I'll investigate. I didn't pay much attention in computer classes either.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Where Have I Been?!

It's been a few days.

I was sick, then Luke was sick (despite his ability to "defeat germs using only his mind"), then Lily, then Grace. We were like a germ factory. I was also having (am still having...?) major panc attacks and inability to leave my house. Then just for fun, our laptop quit working.

So here we are. The laptop is good as new the germs are on their way out thanks to Luke's mindbending powers of antibiodic forcefulness, and I am ready to write. Not so much able to leave the house, but how much fun is an agorophobic who can actually go places and do things and doesn't hyperventilate at the grocery store or leave church before ever actually getting into church? Answer: no fun at all. On the plus side, I have finished two major crochet projects, started another, organized and inventoried all my yarn and hooks, read a great book, seen every movie that is offered on Demand, caught up on laundry, cooked all kinds of good food, and burned all of our firewood.

I promise that in the next few days I will give you
1) Thankful Thursday
2) My Therapy Update or I am Seriously Messed Up in the Head. They Said So On Criminal Minds
3) Luke's Life Policies
4) Burning Wood, Missing Dresses, and How to Break Your Husband's Face

I have work to do. Love your face!

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Thursday is back! It never technically left but it's Thursday again

Thankful Thursday is back after a brief hiatus. Mostly, I just got really busy and forgot until about Monday and then I was like well it’s closer now to next week than last week, so I decided to just hold on to all my thankfulness for a big thankful extravaganza.

I’ve been sick for a while. My voice has come and gone and come back again. I’ve been coughing and being generally disgusting. And also, having a great battle with the challenge of leaving the house. Thankfully, I am getting better. And thankfully Luke has been taking great care of me. He brought me flowers and Dr. Pepper, he went to the grocery store and bought groceries. Then he cooked dinner several nights. He has cleaned the house and watched TV with me.

I am thankful for all of the awesome things to watch on TV. It’s like crack to me. I am also addicted to on demand movies. I have possibly seen every movie ever made. I ‘m looking into that.

I love that it has been raining and cold for days. I made soup that was stupid good. I made a lot so I ate a bunch of it. Awesome. I’m thankful for so much more too but I took medication about 45 minutes ago and now my head is all swimmy and I’m kinda dizzy. I don’t want to drunk blog and accidentally share some weird dark secret.

Thankful extravaganza!

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Cavett Quote of the Week

At our house we have all kinds of weird little things that happen on a daily basis. I mean honestly, I have OCD, my children are known to eat food with their feet, our 30 pound dog behaves like a 7 pound cat and Luke claims that he can defeat germs using only his mind. Funny things are bound to happen. One of these days I will outline the entire series of “Luke’s Life Policies” but today I thought I would share another little occurrence that happens at our house; the “Cavett Quote of the Week”

It is a great honor to get the “Cavett Quote of the Week” There’s a song and a little dance. Sometimes it comes down to a review by the judges. Here are just a few of the past winners:

““Do not throw babies at your sister.” “Yeah, babies hurt when they hit me”

“I decided I’d rather have Excedrin than alcohol”

“Did we just get old? Like, right now this second? Because I’m crocheting and you are falling asleep in front of the TV”

“You stay away from my ovaries!”

“Do not shake your booty in other people’s faces. We are in public.”

“Yeah, we get it. We’re all very impressed with your menstruation”

“Shut your whore mouth. I love you.”

“I know a bunch about old people. If they try to get up without their walking stick, they fall over.”

“Mom, this crab is a vegetarian.” “Oh, yeah? What do you think that means?” “It means that it is just really cool and likes cool things” “Yeah it does!”

Me: You are driving me crazy.
Luke: Nope, too late. You were already crazy.