The last couple posts have been kinda heavy. Sorry about that.
Here’s something to make it up to you: An instruction video by Gillette showing you how to properly shave your nuts.
You’re welcome.
P.S. The video is harmless; it’s your decision if you’d like co-workers to overhear you watching a video on how to shave your privates.
Please forgive me for the boring stupid post. I feel like I’m ingesting fire each time I swallow, my baby is sick with a 103 / 104 fever and was up All. Night. Literally. He’s home with my dad while I have to work, And! It’s his first birthday.
Emotions are running high.
Watch the video and comment about how witty and wonderful I am, won’t you please?
I watched Jon & Kate Plus 8 last night. It was not what I expected.
From the buzz around the internet, the tabloid mess of (un)truths, I expected to see Kate turn green, rippled with muscles and out break people in two.
Instead I saw a deeply confused and hurt woman crying out for someone who appears to no longer be available to her. I saw her needing emotional support, love and companionship.
I saw myself.
The chatter I’ve heard and the stories I’ve read callously call Kate an attention hungry, angry bitch that expects the world to revolve around her. She’s a neglectful parent and evil wife, a cold-hearted employer and a fame whore.
I see a confused, overwhelmed woman who is watching her marriage slip away while being filmed for the world to see. I see a scared, angry and very worried lady who is unsure of everything around her.
People have been talking about how Kate played up the fact that she has to do everything and she has to take all the kids by herself to get the party decorations while Jon “decided he needed a weekend off”- but tell me this: WHO DOESN’T DO THAT?! You can’t sit there and tell me that you have never played up the fact that you’ve had to do ALL the grocery shopping, the cleaning, the laundry, the parenting while your significant other goes out golfing / shopping / girl’s weekend / boy’s weekend – whatever. So Kate’s little “woe is me” moment was caught on tape? That gives us the right to call her a bitch; needy; demanding; etc.?
I do it. ALL THE TIME. I complain that I have to get the kids ready in the morning, I have to do pick up and drop off at daycare, I have to remember to take something out for dinner, I have to make sure the bills are paid, I have to do the laundry…WE ALL DO.
Marriage is tough. I’ve said that before. Things begin to unravel and by the time you realize it, they can be so far gone that it’s hard to work on even in a regular situation – like with TWO children – nevermind EIGHT.
There’s talk about the fact that Kate’s never home because she’s out “whoring” her new book instead of being home with the children. A neglectful mom who is more concerned with her fame and fortune than her children? I doubt it. Maybe a mom that has a chance to realize her dream of writing a book while HER HUSBAND stays home with the kids after he quit his job to be home. Had she been home and NOT working while Jon busted his ass everyday the tables would surely have been turned to call her a mooch – or lazy – because she didn’t have a job of her own.
I can tell you, if I had the option to write a book, have a television show and a new house for my eight children – children who likely eat about a grand worth of food a week, grow like weeds and will eventually be heading off to a post-secondary school requiring THOUSANDS MILLIONS of dollars in tuition – I’d do it in a heartbeat. Compared to working a dead-end job with limited chance for advancement or a salary to afford those eight kids even the bare minimum, it’s a pretty cushy job that one would be pretty silly to turn down.
Those of us with personal blogs, sharing stories of our family and have ads on our site are no different – though the scale is much less, it’s the same. So as we sit at the other end of our computers writing about Jon and Kate being fame whores for sharing every little detail about their family and their marriage – WHAT DOES THAT MAKE US?
Overall, I was deeply saddened by the show; because not only is this family falling apart before our very eyes while we critique their every move, I saw myself and my marriage play out on that television screen.
The way Jon and Kate worked around each other, ignoring each other as they passed? That’s my life.
As they conversed for the sake of the children – emotionless, heartless conversation solely for the purpose of the kids – THAT IS MY LIFE.
The blaming each other because of the unevenly distributed workload – MY LIFE.
It was truly an eye opener to see. Sad, heartbreaking and scary, but an eye opener nonetheless.
It’s normal to hear varying degrees of discord from clients of different hosting companies, that’s really the nature of the beast. It goes for pretty much everything in life. Some love it and some hate it. We make our assumptions based on our personal feelings of someone else’s situation. You can choose to draw your own conclusions from this post I have no control over swaying your decision one way or another.
This is merely a onethree six -sided account of what we’ve experienced while dealing with BlueHost regarding this one particular account.
For full disclosure I will tell you that I have not paid a red cent to BlueHost for service. I have had a site hosted through their web hosting via an account belonging to someone else. Also, I waited to post this until said site – as well as both Heather and Mike’s sites were removed from BlueHost service.
Now that the business is out of the way, let’s discuss.
I hate to go back to this day, but that’s where the story begins….
When Meghan called trying get somewhere with a BlueHost support technician, she was told that the site was running outdated scripts (Heather had Wordpress 2.5+ running on her site at the time) and that it needed Super Cache. The plugin was apparently then installed by a BlueHost support technician then the site re-instated. Success!
But it was very short lived as the amount of load on the server increased, BlueHost again locked down the sites. Friends of the Spohrs swooped in hoping to help out by contacting BlueHost directly and asking, pleading that something be done for their sites so people could offer their condolences. A number of people were inundating their call lines and live chat with requests, which were all met with a cool “No” since none were able to provide the vital information needed for BlueHost to allow access to the account.
I, as well as Meghan, had that information – so I tried my hand at getting some help and made a call to their customer support. The support technician was for the most part, polite but not at all understanding of the situation. There was no way they were able to re-instate the Spohrs’ account. No way. No how. Not until all the traffic was diverted from the BlueHost server would they even consider turning the account back on. By this time both Heather and Mike’s site had been shut down for the second time.
I said to the lady, “Please? Anything? It’s not like they’re email spammers. They’ve lost a child and we’re trying to have the site available even just as a condolence page. Just the last post would be fine as a static page so people could still comment and leave a note for Heather and Mike. Something.”
The response was they cannot do that. Sorry. That’s the rules.
So you’re aware. BlueHost has a ‘three strikes you’re out’ policy when it comes to the number of times your site is suspended. Regardless of the reason for suspension you will be required to find hosting elsewhere after the third time the site adversely affects the other users on the same shared server. Despite our best efforts to get something up and running for Mike and Heather – or even the reason for the spike in traffic – BlueHost verbally notified me they would terminate the account based on this ‘three strikes’ rule should the surge of traffic crash the server again therefore could not activate the account.
I tried to purchase a package upgrade by changing the account’s credit card information to my own but was denied as they didn’t have another package option to offer. I tried to buy dedicated hosting, a virtual private server, even a chunk of a shared server – something – to move their sites to keep them up and running. I was coldly informed that BlueHost doesn’t offer those service and our only option was to find Heather’s site service elsewhere.
BlueHost.Com will make every commercially reasonable effort to provide additional resources to Subscribers who are using their website(s) consistent with these Terms, including moving Subscribers to newer and bigger shared servers as necessary. However, in order to ensure a consistent and quality experience for all Subscribers, BlueHost.Com does place automated safeguards to protect against any one site growing too quickly and adversely impacting the system until BlueHost.Com can evaluate said sites resource needs.
As far as I’m concerned they did not efficiently evaluate the site resources nor the previous years service Heather has had with their company. Based on the telephone conversation I had with the technician they were not even willing to attempt any rectification.
Prior to Maddie’s passing, Heather’s blog was a small to medium sized site with approximately 500 – 800 page views per day. Two days prior to April 7th there was 233 page views. I’m simply telling you this because Heather’s site was by no means a drain on their system, but under these extenuating circumstances BlueHost simply washed their hands of the site and their client, leaving Heather stranded without the only means she’s been able to express herself – to help herself grieve the loss of her daughter.
(Thankfully two wonderfulpeople stepped in and offered their own dedicated server to host Heather’s site, for as long as it was needed, in order to allow Heather to post and friends and family to send love and support from afar.)
In the meantime, BlueHost’s political blunder and sloppy handling of this situation had been broadcast across Twitter leaving their president to try and pick up some pieces.
Pieces such as this one from Gary: (the highlighted part was done by me)
From: Gary Dawkins, Bluehost Support Team
Date: Wed, Apr 8, 2009 at 7:07 PM
Subject: Re: [#YDF-67126-157] outraged
To: XXXXXXXXXX
The employee’s here at bluehost followed the correct procedures for an account that was causing problems on the server. Once a supervisor was notified of the “situation” that was going on that’s when they went out of their way to help by reactivating the account and even fixing the outdated version of wordpress that the customer had set up. The (sic) surely didn’t have to do this but did so because they had compassion for the customer’s circumstances. I’m sorry if other technicians were not as compassionate as you would have liked them to be, but they did follow company policies about the technical difficulties that were occurring at the time. Please have a great day and we are sorry for any misunderstanding.
They went out of their way? They were not as compassionate as you would have liked them to be? Really? Way to save face Gary.
And for the record: “when the supervisor was notified of the ’situation’ and went out of their way to help by reactivating the site and even fixing the out-dated version of Wordpress….” that was NOT done by BlueHost staff but instead by Jennifer and Bil when they moved Heather’s site to their personal dedicated server. Not only did BlueHost misrepresent their “help” by taking credit for someone else’s work, they LIED about it. They presumably thought they were talking to people who were not all that tech savvy and would be able to get away with misrepresenting their “support” of the site.
Additionally, when I logged into Heather’s site via FTP (file transfer protocol) I found that the SuperCache had not been installed either, just the .zip file of the plugin had been dumped in the root file of their domain (for non-techies: They did nothing except upload a file. It wasn’t even activated).
The DAY AFTER Maddie passed, the president of BlueHost (who is Matt Heaton, though Heather can’t confirm for sure if he is in fact the person that called, because well, she was a little pre-occupied – but KNOWS he identified himself as the President) called her at home. Though his call may have been made with good intentions, it was cold and based solely on a sad attempt to right their social blunder. Based on what Heather’s told me, Matt’s cold, canned response was a typical public relations nightmare recovery speech. It was a sorry-to-see-you-go-but-we’re-really-not-that-bad type call. Even though Heather had decided she was no longer using BlueHost’s service, this ill-timed phone call was final the deal breaker.
I understand that there are rules in place to protect the users of the shared server. These rules are typically meant to protect BlueHost subscribers from email spammers, as well as sites which have grown too large to be located on a small insufficient shared server. Heather’s site had grown in astonishing magnitude in a matter of hours due to Maddie’s passing, and though she had been a loyal subscriber for the better part of two years and had no previous issues with any of their domains, both Heather and Mike were treated as a nuisance and hindrance on BlueHost; Heather and I wholeheartedly believe that they paid any attention to this “situation” (as Gary called it) simply because of the negative comments flooding twitter and other social media sites. Had we not voiced our dissatisfaction with their handling of the site and service I truly believe they would not have thought twice about their hasty decision to shut down the sites of parents, who only hours before, had lost their daughter.
Why am I telling you all this? BlueHost should be held accountable for their actions. Not only did they provide inconsistent service to their clients, they lied: they made assumptions and, for the most part, misconstrued information. As a community it is our duty to make fellow users aware of these attempts at taking advantage of us.
Due to the amount of traffic Heather’s site has seen over the past month and a half, BlueHost would not have been able to handle the traffic anyway. The site had to be moved to accommodate the more than 10.7 MILLION hits and over 2 MILLION page views it’s seen since Maddie passed away. Regardless of this fact, the way BlueHost went about handling the situation was still less than stellar. They could have been upfront about the fact that they were no longer able to support the site, or maybe moved it to an empty or less populated server in the meantime while an alternative arrangement was made.
Maybe offered SUPPORT rather than wash their hands of the issue.
Would it have truly killed them to take a more compassionate route to fixing the issue? Probably not. Sure, there are rules – but rules are meant to be broken: and if the President of the company is going to take time out of his day to call and “apologize” for their mishandling of this account maybe he could have taken a moment to try and right it by allowing their site to move to a different server with less load or subscribers. How about reimbursing the Spohrs’ their fees for the trouble? Even some sort of condolence would have likely been appreciated had it not been made out of desperation to stop the hateful twitters and negative reviews of BlueHost’s service.
The House of Me is awaiting the word to see whether or not we should officially be under quarantine. Mike fears he has swine flu. With flaming angry pink eye, cough wheezing and general shittiness, he of course believes he is on his death bed.
I am the only relatively healthy one at the moment, *touch fake MDF wood looking product* which doesn’t bode well for my sanity. Kids are on the mend but Hudson is still teething and Carter… is… well… Carter. Man that kid is high strung happy and moody active. He’s so much like his father I fear for his future partner just love him so much.
Mike called form work yesterday about a billion times to tell me he thought he had pink eye. His eye was oozing and crusty and red. Tell tales signs of the conjunctivitis. And that there my friends, is ALL kindsa hotness. I told him that he likely has pink eye and to stop touching it. When he came home he quickly pulled me aside, out of view of the kids and pulled off his sunglasses to show me a flaming red, angry, pussy* eye leaking and definitely oozing. Pink. Eye.
Eating lunch? Dammit, I always do that!
Afraid of possibly scarring Carter for life he refused to take his glasses off in front of the kid which prompted a million questions asking why daddy was wearing his sunglasses in the house. Mike thought that rather than telling him that his eye hurt and leave it at that, it would be better to concoct this story about how it’s too bright and he needs his glasses to see. Which, I HATE. Why the fuck make up a story when you can just give a very simple dumbed down version of the truth.
That’s how I deal with Mike most days. You think he would have caught on by now?
I immediately corrected him because Carter doesn’t need to have these dumbass stories created for his benefit.
Unless it’s about Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy or unicorns because those? Those are awesome magical beings – like Hobbits – and children need to have a little magic in their lives, not stupid stories about how it’s too bright in the house and Daddy needs to have on his sunglasses. I’ll bet if I let him keep going he would have begun singing some Corey Hart and we don’t need that shit at the dinner table, people.
Mike hemmed and hawed through dinner about whether or not he should have his eye looked at. Buddy wouldn’t even take off his figgin’ sunglasses for fear of scaring the ever loving crap out of his four year old, but thought it was well enough not to warrant a visit to the doctor? BRILLIANT.
I convinced him that Yes, his eye must be looked at; so he begrudgingly went to the doctor and after an hour called me to say that this old geezer doctor at the walk-in clinic passed by his room twice to see other patients. Then, when he finally saw the guy, he was told that he had strep throat. Mike continued ranting that he was never going to that fuckin’ clinic again because the geezer doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Apparently the doctor didn’t even look at his eye and only swabbed for strep but, people. You didn’t need to get up close to that thing to see that it’s badly diseased. Fuck, I could tell as he was walking up the driveway.
Eventually I had to cut him off to ask if it was possible that he did indeed have strep because he did sleep most of the weekend; and when he wasn’t sleeping, he was complain about being tired having a sore throat.
His answer? Ya, I guess.
The doctor deduced he had pink eye IN CONJUNCTION with strep throat.
NIICE.
So he did what any sane person with a swollen eye full of infectious disease AND possible strep throat would do – he went to WORK. (He sits in a crane all day long alone, he’s not worried about spreading it. *rolleyes*) About forty minutes ago he called me to see if he should go to the doctor to see if he has swine flu.
Apparently we’ve gone from denial to self-medicating.
I just don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s my fault and I had sharted on his pillow.
Now? My eyes? They’re itchy.
But I don’t have pink eye.
I don’t have pink eye.
I don’t have pink eye.
I don’t have pink eye.
Please, don’t let me have pink eye.
I just haven’t had enough coffee today. That’s it. Coffee. I need coffee.
________________________________
*Who knew there wasn’t a pural to pus and that it wasn’t pussy. I was writing at work and had to hurry since lunch time recess was coming to a close. Pussy suits him so it stays.
There’s nothing more frustrating than to see someone special bear so much and not be able to help. I can’t take away the pain, frustration and heartache. I can’t make things better. All I can do is wait. Wait and hope that they will reach out, knowing that I am there wanting to support them.
*They* say that God doesn’t give you more than you can take. I am having a difficult time believing that these days, because even if it is true, why does God want someone to suffer at all?
I’m not a religious person even though I have been baptized Catholic. I haven’t taken my first communion or been to church except when I visit my grandparents. I’ve never used faith to get me through a tough time. That being said, I don’t know how I could pray or look up to ’someone’ who has caused so much pain and suffering for friends and family so dear to me.
I really have no idea where I am going with this. I’m lost, confused and upset. There has to be some cosmic reason for all this pain in 2009. I just can’t understand it.
From the very first day of this year many people, including myself, have been surrounded by hurt, pain and horrible situations. There is nothing I can do but sit here helpless, as a plume of sadness, heartache and insurmountable pain clouds those I love. I just can’t understand WHY? It’s likely I’m not supposed to ‘get it’ as God has a plan for everyone (so they say).
I feel like a total ass. The Ass to End All Asses.
Yesterday was my birthday. I’m a whole 28 years of wisdom, beauty and smarts. *cough*BULLSHIT*cough* I was happy and excited because my step-mom and I were going for breakfast and a massage in the morning. So I got out a cute little spring-ish dress and a cute necklace as I got ready. Seeing as it was My Special Day I thought I would hype it up since I didn’t expect so much as a “happybirthday” mumbled in my general direction if it was even remembered.
As I got dressed Mike started giving me the gears about why I has to get gussied up to go for breakfast and a massage.
There had not been ANY acknowledgment of said birthday by this point and even though I knew that every. single. year. was the same damn thing I couldn’t help but still be put off.
But honestly, my step-mom always looks so put together I wasn’t about to head out the door for a morning with her in my yoga pants and un-made-up (yes, that’s a word. Ask Dr. Google.) So I put on a damn dress. Sue me.
Still not a happy birthday even though when Carter asked me why I was wearing a dress and I told him that it was my Special Day. So I did what any pissed off wife would do – twittered about his lack of caring.
I forgot about everything and went out with my step-mom. I wasn’t going to let him ruin yet another birthday for me. We set out for breakfast and hit up a huge L’Oreal Professional sale where we snagged as much product as we could possibly shove into a bag for a mere fifty bucks. I swear, we walked away with more than three HUNDRED dollars of stuff for 50 BUCKS!
Then after our massages we headed back to my house where, waiting for me, was a few of my favourite people in the whole entire world – assumed neglectful husband included.
That bugger had been working on a surprise party for me over the past few weeks, and the guy that can usually never get anything past me, got this one right under my nose.
(And I’ve never been so grateful that I actually decided I didn’t want to be frumpy. Because seriously? That would have been suckage.)
But that wasn’t the end of the surprises because he really out did himself this year. Wrapped and waiting was a brand new MacBook Pro. I was on the verge of tears I was so excited, which I think weirded out my family just a little. Only Karen really got just how excited I was about it.
Dude, I have a mother fuckin’ MacBook Pro now!!
Ahem. Now I just have to learn how to use it.
Oh, and I apologized profusely to my sick husband who threw a party and crashed like nothing I’ve seen before. He was so burnt out, feverish and all around sick that he had to escape to lie down for a while even before guests had left. Poor bugger.
Even though he may pretend that birthdays just don’t matter I think deep down he’s really a sucker for making me happy; and really? I can’t complain about that.
I dreamt of you last night. It’s been happening more and more frequently which has been driving me crazy because I can’t understand why, after all these years, a simple dream can bring back all those feelings of first love. Those heart wrenching pains which I don’t think can ever be forgotten. The love. The heart break. The loss.
Hit with the pangs of nostalgia, I think about what could have been. How happy we were and if that would still be the case. Would we have survived if we gave our all? Would we still be together? Would we have the fun and laughs we shared back then – would they still be part of our everyday lives? What if I had opened up more; told you how I really felt. Would it have made a difference or would the outcome have been the same?
I can’t help but think about those “what if’s” each time your face crosses my mind. As I remember those butterflies, the longing, I can’t help but want it again. How holding your hand was all I needed. The somersaults of my stomach when you so much as glanced at me. The way my heart would leap into my throat when I heard your voice.
I wanted to be with you so bad. Forever.
Sometimes I think I still do.
Sometimes I feel as though I owe it to myself: to just pick up the phone and pour my heart out. But what good would that really do seeing as we’re both married? I don’t think I even want anything to come of it. I just want you to know that I am continually dealing with this angst of lost love and dammit, if I have to suffer so should you.
I keep telling myself that it was good while it lasted, but it’s over. It will never again be as it was.
My heart won’t believe me.
Apparently neither will my brain because it keeps sending my heart these loving messages of Some Day keeping me longing for That Day. My subconscious works overtime to keep those feelings alive. To keep you alive. To keep the longing alive.
I guess I just want to know if you think about me. Do you have those same feelings rushing back out of nowhere flooding your heart so quick it’s impossible to catch a breath?
My life is really nothing more that a circus freak sideshow. Well, minus the freak (even though sometimes I think I look like the bearded lady).
I am the ring master, the lion tamer, the juggling monkey, carnie and exhibitionist all in one.
I’m also the banker, the employee, the self-employed business lady, the accountant, the chauffeur, the butler, the nanny, the cook, the maid, the garbage collector and the dominatrix (Ha! Good one.). But it doesn’t stop there(I just thought you may have got the point by now).
Sometimes I think I have it rough. Sometimes I bitch and moan that it’s just not fuckin’ fair. Why do I have to deal with pick and drop off at daycare day in and day out? Why do I have to be the one to remember to de-thaw dinner or else there will be none? How come the bank account balance just can’t take care of itself? Why do I always have to play the Bad Cop?
It could be worse.
It could always be worse.
There could be no bank account to care for or food in the freezer.
There could be no husband to greet when he come home from work.
There could be no monkeys to corral children to kiss goodbye in the morning or to see grinning from ear to ear after a hard days work.
When it’s all put into perspective of It Could Be Worse I feel insurmountable guilt for even complaining, but then I think about the Hierarchy of Suffering and I’m all Dude, it is fuckin’ hard and because it’s not THAT hard doesn’t make it any less hard.
Like this morning for instance, when I was awoken by my husband as he was leaving for work – because I slept through my alarm ON MY SECOND DAY BACK TO WORK – I was pissed that I had to get up and even more so after hearing him call down the hallway that I should be grateful for even having a job.
(But! If I didn’t have a job I would have been sleeping until eight six o’clock instead which would be totally awesome.)
(But! If I didn’t have my job we’d likely have to downgrade our home and sell a car; not to mention, hope and pray that Mike didn’t lose his job.)
(All relative, right?)
Or how about when we were *just* heading out the door ON! TIME! and Hudson proceeded to shit his pants – which turned out to be diarrhea – making us late to leave and me late to work ON MY SECOND DAY BACK. Not so awesome. Even peeling a crying Hudson off as he tried to cling to me rather than go see his teacher, a little heartbreaking.
I really have no idea where I was going with this except for I feel bad for complaining about my minuscule issues when there is far worse things that I could have happen to me. But these minuscule things are TRAGIC to me at the moment.
I hate that my heart is across the city with my children in their daycare and that I feel HELPLESS while my sick congested baby is pawned off on other people to care for and I sit here at a desk pining for them.
P.S. I have vodka at my desk and I’m seriously considering opening it.
P.P.S. It’s my birthday Saturday and I’m getting a massage.
P.P.S.S. You look hot today. Do something new with your hair?
* Hierarchy of Suffering is a far superior title but was already taken. Obviously.
