If you’ve been following my Tweets this morning you’d see that I’ve been freaking over the loss of my 2GB flash drive. I admit that I haven’t been entirely careful with it considering it holds a bunch of valuable information for my work’s new websites - yes, WEBSITES. Stupid me hadn’t backed it up to a computer, just kept everything on the flash drive. The flash drive that has been MIA over the past week I’ve been avoiding my boss’ requests for visual updates. I may have even used the excuse that my toddler hid it on me because what good are children if you can’t implicate them for missing items. But being that it’s a new week and *should* of had the opportunity to find it over th weekend, I can no longer avoid his requests. Hence me - freaking the shit out.

Blurred by despair, I agreed giving a blow job should Mike be able to locate the flash drive (since he’s home for the day), and won’t you know, the bugger found the damn thing in less that 15 minutes.

Shit.

I don’t know that I can use the syphilis line again.

Got any ideas to get me out of this one?

Or do I just admit defeat and take on for the team?

[Changing topic - NOW]

I now LOVE San Pellegrino and even Perrier now too.

The reason I’m sharing is because I took pictures of the bottles that I really like. And how else can I prove to you that I am insane but blog about head and soda water at the same time?

See:

Nice, right?

Still fun?

Yeah, it’s a bottle of fuckin’ water you loon.

Not to mention, a couple of Criss Angel’s motorcycles:

He was away for Christmas holidays or avoiding The Crazy Canadian Stalker while we were there, but I did get to see his store, production office for Mindfreak, as well as some of his bikes and cars.

Not to mention, lose my bag full of lens and camera gear near his store!

That sucked.

But! Thanks to some great person, it was dropped off at Luxor security and I got it ALL back.

I like to think that Criss was looking out for me.

[blank stare]

Mike thinks I shouldn’t put off the fitting for my straight jacket any longer.

Quit nodding. I thought we were friends!

Sick.

I think I’ve been sick this entire pregnancy, accept for about two weeks. (That’s 19 weeks of sick when I include the morning sickness) 19 fuckin’ joyfilled, wonderful weeks.

19 weeks of cough, congestion, queasy stomach, throwing up and snotty nose.

19 weeks of peeing my pants.

Isn’t pregnancy glamorous? I’ve resorted to wearing a pad since I cough so often. Essentially, I am wearing a diaper.

Who would have thought? 26 years old and suffering incontinence.

I mean, is this normal? Is this really what happens to us when we have children and get older? I feel like if I get pregnant again I’m one step closer to moving into an old age home where they’ll be changing my diaper for me. Does this happen to a lot of people or am I just a freak? Because seriously, it’s a little disheartening to think about the fact that I am wearing a fucking diaper at the moment.

I tried to share my anguish with my husband last night. To confide in him, like married couples in love are supposed to do.

Me (whining): “Mike, every single time I cough, I pee. I hate this. I am so miserable and it’s embarassing! I have to wear a pad as a diaper.”

Mike (half listening): “Don’t worry, I’d still hit it.”

Feel the love people, feel the love.

Hey, I must still have a little something left if I confess to my husband that I am peeing my pants and wearing a diaper if he still wants to have sex with me. I can’t be all that bad. Right?

P.S. Even more photos of Vegas are up at Flickr!

When I started college, I started smoking regularly. I had tried it while in high school, but once I moved on my own and didn’t fear the wrath of my mother as much, I began smoking everyday. I think it was the mix of all my friends doing it, as well as it being something to pass the time that kept me smoking. Maybe I was a social smoker more then anything. Once I started working at this company I am with now, I found that no one smoked. I was the only one; wanting to make a good impression, I didn’t smoke around any coworkers for months. It was then I realized that I really didn’t crave the cigarettes as much as I thought I did. Quitting came quite easy to me.

I still am not sure what the appeal of it is. It smells, it’s bad for your health and um, CANCER!

I am even more stumped since Vegas. Walking into a wall of cigarette and cigar smoke when entering casinos was not my idea of a great time. Weaving through their blinking lights and loudly singing machines with my scarf over my nose and mouth must have made people wonder what the hell I was doing there in the first place.

Not attractive.

[I'm talking about the smoke, not my scarf laden face.]

Mike on the other hand has yet to fight the addiction and quit. When I was pregnant with Carter he promised up and down that he would quit when the baby came. He was doing great on cutting back and trying really hard to nix the habit.

The night I went into labour he smoked a pack of cigarettes.

Last January he tried again and failed, then when he got his wisdom teeth puled out, then when he got the flu…

I’ve tried guilting him, getting angry, ignoring it, but nothing works. I know, I know… he has to quit when he’s good and ready. It has to be in his own time or else he will never quit.

When is a better time though? After the second child has arrived? After the doctor tells him again that our child’s ear infections and chronic cough could be a result of the second hand smoke residue from his father? (Mike doesn’t smoke around Carter or in the car that Carter travels in. But yes, it’s on his clothes, skin, hair, etc.)

As of right now, Mike’s quit smoking cigarettes and moved on to smaller cigars. Not gangsta style huge stogies, but small cigarette like ones. I dunno what they’re called and I don’t really care because well, he’s still smoking three years after he swore up and down that he would quit. Bitter much? Yes, yes I am actually.
Since he’s contracted this cold disease from me, he hasn’t smoked anything. I just hope that he’s sick long enough to get through the initial cravings and have it out of his system before he’s able to inhale without coughing up a lung.

How wonderful a wife am I that I hope my husband is on his death bed (as he so lovely describes this cold) long enough that it will help deter his cravings for nicotine?

That’s love people. Love I tell you.

This whole bitchfest entry makes me think about the people that say ex-smokers have no right to complain about smoking like a non-smoker does.

I don’t agree.

Our opinions as reformed / born-again non-smokers is just as meaningful as those who have never picked up a cigarette. I have every right to hate the smell and all around disgusting-ness as anyone else. I know what it’s like to want to light up, to have a smoke after sex, after eating and while drinking. I know how hard it can be to fight the need when you can’t get away to go outside and have that coveted butt or when all you can think about is just lighting up.

That doesn’t mean that I’ve relinquished my right to fresh air in a bar, casino, or car. I doesn’t mean that I should suffer through ingesting second hand smoke while eating just because I used to smoke. And it doesn’t mean that I should have more sympathy for those that do smoke and are trying to quit. I’ve been there. I’ve been through it and I know how hard it can be, but using addiction as an excuse can only get you so far in my books.

So here’s to Mike and his umpteenth attempt at quitting. I’ve kept my mouth shut and plan to do so the entire time - this time.

May it stick this time.

Otherwise I can’t be held accountable for what may happen to him.

Thank you for the encouragement on my last entry. As you can tell, I’ve been more then a little emotional over the past week, give or take, and it’s getting to me. The stress of Christmas, sick child, absent spouse, and being pregnant and TIRED! has taken a lot out of me.

I know I am not cut out to be a single parent. I have more and more respect for my mother, who raised to little children with little help while carrying the brunt of household duties as well as working full time. It’s no easy feat., and I really look up to those that have it in them to do it all. It’s not so much the physical toll as it is emotional. There are so many ups and downs throughout the day with a toddler, THEN to have household and marital stress on top of that is a little much to bear some days. It’s something ALL us parents tend to deal with at one point or another.

Yet, sitting home three days straight, without leaving the house - with a sick toddler who’s been pissing out his ass about every hour - tends to blur your perception of being a parent. The good times are forgotten and dwelling on the bad takes the forefront. Personal outlook creates the situations, and I just have to clear my head and remember that THIS isn’t forever. I. Can. Do. It.

As for today, we are keeping warm inside as we are hammered by this snowstorm. I woke to a relatively empty driveway and light flurries, a little disappointed by all the hype of this “Storm of the Century” only to have it hit an hour later; now, it’s relentless.

I just hope Mike’s home to shovel us out so I can get the hell out of here tomorrow.