Training for the marathon…

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Last night I decided to stay up late to work on my blog. Now that the Hubster is home from deployment, I’ve found my brain very unproductive due to the daylight hours I must now inhabit. I miss my midnight Taco Bell runs with my trusty sidekick Lola. Apparently come 9pm, the Hubster and Lola become pumpkins and flee to the bedroom. Usually they put the guilt trip on me until I follow.

But not last night. Last night I stayed awake so I could get some great work done. It’s now 6am and I still haven’t gone to sleep. I did however get a ton of stuff accomplished:

  • I watched Seinfeld
  • I downloaded music from the 1980s (thank you iTunes!)
  • I browsed through the music of the 1990s (again, Apple and their wormhole you can never get out of!)
  • I read a bunch of useless information on Wikipedia that I’m sure will one day allow me to win on Jeopardy
  • I pondered the meaning of life (that was right around 4am, when I realized Taco Bell was closed and I missed my window to get a snack)

That’s when things got interesting. I got a writing job online and I accepted it will glee without actually reading what the topic was.

“CE Marking and the translation requirements of the Medical Device Directives and how it impacts the EU, EFTA, and EEA.”

What the shit?! Why did I take that job????? Oh yeah, I didn’t have the delicious nacho cheese from The Bell that sustains me on these late night endeavors. Obviously the cheesy goodness morphs my brain from moron to brainiac.

You’re on your own here brain, GET IT TOGETHER!!!

And then I had it, within two hours I had written the greatest article on a subject I had never heard of before. I even learned what all those letters meant!!!!! I wrote such a great piece that when my software ran the reading level I had to look up what year of college that was. And I found out the scale has no high-end cut off- so I had officially left college and was working on a second PhD for fun as far as the scale was concerned.

Yep, and all without the help of my nacho cheese made out of chemicals and what I assume is some sort of plastic.

Heatherism #31


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much


DomesticatedMomster

Every day we get closer to elections…

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Well, the U.S. is getting closer and closer to election day and everyone in the world is watching the horror unfold in front of their faces. Each day I read the news I am more convinced that something terrible will happen in November. My friends’ social media posts are filled with terror and every post is a contradiction on who we should vote for. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I’m running for President. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking- I can’t possibly win. Hear me out. I’ve come up with a slogan and I’ve even been given a dollar by a friend who wants to help with my campaign. (I used it to buy a candy. Hey, I’ve got to start spending money like a politician- there’s no room for morals and spending on things like medicine for the elderly.)

That’s what we’re doing ~ That’s how you do it ~ And that’s done

It’s a three-part slogan which I think is very sophisticated. It shows I’m dedicated to complex problem-solving and I don’t shy away from the big issues. It’s also a delicate reminder that I’m in charge and all you little people should just let me lead the way. I’ve written some examples on how I’d debate the issues.

We’re going to fix this broken immigration system ~ We’ll allow immigrants ~ And that’s done

We’re going to fix Medicaid ~ We’ll fund it ~ And that’s done

We’re going to solve the debt crisis ~ We’ll pay it off ~ And that’s done

See how well the three-part system works?!?!? I’m solving the problems of this country with my brain alone! Vote for me by writing my name on the ballot. If I win, I’ll send you a t-shirt…or maybe I won’t because politicians do not have to follow through on promises if they don’t feel like it.

Keet for President


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

 

Yellowstone has great grilled cheese…

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There has been a terrifying development in the life of the Heather. (That’s me, in case you are lost on the internet and just stumbled in here while drunk. Welcome!) I made myself a grilled cheese and my entire world tilted sideways.

I took the first bite of my grilled cheese and it was gross. Uh oh. What’s happening here?! I took a second bite and it was just as gross. Ok, nobody panic, I’m sure my love of grilled cheese is still intact. Heck, I just had one at Yellowstone and I really recommend you stop in for a bite when you’re in the area. You could also see some bison and a geyser erupt, but the grilled cheese is the real attraction!

I head to the kitchen to throw out the offending grilled cheese and decide to make another one, just in case the first one was made incorrectly. (This is where you laugh because how can you possibly make it incorrectly when you’ve been making them for 30 years. Cheese, bread, butter. You never know though, maybe the butter was too heavy and the bread too dry and maybe, just maybe, the cheese wasn’t laid on in the perfect place. I need hope and you’re not taking it from me!) So I remake the grilled cheese and bite into it with vigor.

It was disgusting.

Now is the time to panic!!! How can this be? Why has this happened? Isn’t it bad enough I’ve had my abdomen ripped apart by two major organs in a mutiny?!

Someone, quick! Get me to a bowling alley for a grilled cheese so I can correctly gauge if it’s time I just gave up in life. Without my precious grilled cheese there is no point; I might as well wear sweatpants and stained t-shirts and bathe only once a week. It may be time for a trip home to Hawai’i before I turn into a shell of my former self and become unrecognizable to those who know me best.

Heatherism #30

I’m very worried for my future…What will I seek out to restore my faith in humanity?!?!


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

Don’t blame my body for your daftness…

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I would like to preface the story by saying it just seems like I eat Taco Bell a lot- I don’t think I actually eat there more often than the average American. This is based on my deduction that the average American eats Taco Bell at least three times a week…

Recently I was driving to get myself something delicious from the local Taco Bell. It had been a while since my last adventure to get some nachos and I was quite excited about the prospect of cheesy waterfalls in the near future. I was so cheered by the impending eating of the gooey cheese that I caused a car accident with my smile.

You did read that right, I caused a car accident with my smile.

I pulled up to the light and there were a few people waiting to turn out of a shopping center into the lane that I was currently occupying. Obviously, the first guy sat at the stop sign and was just waiting for traffic lights to change so we could all move again. I looked at the first gentleman and I smiled while thinking about my nacho cheese. Then I thought I would add a burrito to my order and I turned my distracted gaze towards the second person waiting at the stop sign. And then it happened.

The second car jumped forward without any warning and slammed into the guy in front of him. I was so startled that I immediately started laughing. Judging by the crumpled hood of the second car and the violence with which it propelled itself forward, the driver hadn’t just let off the brake, he actively hit the gas pedal.

I managed to gain some control of myself because adults should not be laughing when there are car accidents, and I rolled my window rolled down…because I just had to hear what was being said. Sue me, I’m nosey. The first guy had already jumped out of his car and was yelling at the second guy asking what the heck happened. And the second guy answered “that girl smiled at me.” And then he pointed at me.

Wow, that took an unexpected turn, and fast.

As they both turned to look at me, I decided the best course of action was to wave and drive away now that the traffic light had changed. Mature adult or not, my car was not part of the accident and I was not going to have my smile be blamed by someone’s insurance company.

As I passed the accident on my way home from my Taco Bell run, I got the biggest shock of the day. What’s bigger than causing an accident with your smile?! The police officer who showed up on the scene was the same guy who has now been involved in two of my late night Taco Bell runs. Read here and here.

I try not to be a conspiracy theorist, though it’s hard because I spend a lot of time online, but I swear this has to be the only police officer in my entire city. And why, why, why, does he always seem to find a way to insert himself into my Taco Bell runs?!


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

I like you even less than you like me…

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Nine very short months ago, I wrote a little blog post about my internal organs doing some remodeling out of jealousy that our home was being remodeled. What many of you don’t know, is that a week before that appendix rupture, I was in the same emergency room, with the same doctor and nurses, because a fire in my chest was burning out of control. I was given heartburn medicine and then sent on my way.

Fast forward to last week and the raging fire was burning out of control. I had to go to an emergency room because it was a holiday weekend and I had already been suffering since the middle of the night. It was dawn and I was unconvinced I was going to make it out of the weekend alive. It did not get better.

DocMan was an asshole. Now, I try to give the benefit of the doubt that he was a great doctor who was having a bad day, but I’m the kid of an ER Nurse, I know what’s going on. He had just come on shift, the ER was not crowded at all, and the trauma rooms were empty. Still, I was taken to the way back room where they put you when they think you’re not in real trouble. I tried to tell DocMan that I have a high pain tolerance and a respect for emergency rooms, but he wanted nothing to do with me.

So Hubster spent the next few hours watching me sit there with no fluids, a very small shot of pain meds that wore off with incredible speed, and numerous suffering sighs that conveyed my despair of impeding doom. After months of agonizing, multiple doctor and ER visits, and medicines that never worked, I was going to die in the back of an ER because some DocMan thought I was playing up the symptoms.

I’d like to officially announce to the world the FAT KID CREEDNothing interferes with the fat kid eating schedule. Sleeping is the fat kid religion. Any activity that interferes with those goals must be halted immediately. So as you can see, spending hours in an ER while not being allowed to eat or sleep is not something I’m going to do unless it is absolutely necessary to continue breathing. But keep ignoring me, I bet my medical problem is only getting better while we do nothing.

After finally remembering I was in the back of the ER, DocMan decides to get me into imaging and I hit the x-ray room first. According to the radiologist, my gallbladder was looking a little large. Back to my back room I went where a nurse rushed in and apologized and then gave me another bit of morphine. Because obviously it has been hours and I’m sweating buckets again while fire burns me from the inside out. Sidenote, I never want to be a vampire…

DocMan decides it’s time to get serious and he sends me to get an ultrasound. I immediately knew something was wrong because the technician was taking a metric ass ton of photos and she refused to tell me how things looked. I was worried, but more than that I just wanted the fire to stop after nine months of searing my innards like a Labor Day picnic hot dog. Which I was missing out on since I was in the fucking hospital being ridiculous apparently! See Fat Kid Creed above.

DocMan comes back into the room and I can immediately tell by his changed demeanor that I’m about to hear an apology from a doctor. It comes in the form of a statement of fact that I had deducted months ago; I needed to have my gallbladder removed. I decided to mess with him a bit since I’d been suffering for hours and had no one else to torment. I used my “innocent face” to ask if I could schedule it for next week since it obviously wasn’t a big deal and I haven’t even been given an IV to push fluids or real medicine to help with the fire. That’s when I get the real apology face, it’s an emergency and I’m having surgery NOW and I don’t have the option of waiting. The gallbladder was huge, there was a complete blockage of the duct, and it was showing off an amazing infection to complete the trifecta of torture.

So I got to ride in my second ambulance in nine months- but this time I was lucid enough to remember the ride. I’m really beginning to like ambulances, everyone gets out of the way, people are waiting for you upon your arrival…this is how celebrities feel, isn’t it?! I asked the EMT for a codename and she and her partner gamely started calling me Bulldog.

I think there’s a small chance that I talk about Lola a lot.

P.S. My body is tired from all its remodeling. My liver is now organizing itself into a new shape because it wants to fill up the empty cavity that my torso is quickly becoming. My colon is definitely thinking of staging a coup and I fear the left kidney and/or pancreas are in its sights.

P.P.S. Will someone please bring me a hotdog now that I’ve missed all the holiday weekend festivities?!?!

P.P.P.S. I still haven’t had anyone throw in some liposuction while operating on me. Isn’t there some kind of frequent flyer card that I’ve filled up yet?! A rewards program perhaps, maybe even a BOGO offer that I can cash in?!


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

 

Tardiness is not appealing…

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Until now.

Heatherism #6


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

Lola has a new set of skills…

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For several days now I’ve been on social media talking about how Lola has apparently entered the matrix and is using it to move around. She’s really freaking me out!

I was sitting in my office, writing a blog obviously, and Lola was at my feet chewing on her toy. I could hear her, see her, and feel her brushing up against my feet. As I leave the office I look back to talk to Lola and she’s still chewing the bone. I look to the computer desk where the Hubster is now sitting and make a wisecrack, then saunter towards the couch.

Lola is standing right in front of me.

Let me tell you why this is so creepy. First of all, we have wood floors and Lola can’t go anywhere without my knowing. Her little nails just click, click, click their way everywhere. Second, she can’t move that quickly while being that silent. It is not an exaggeration to say that Lola sounds like a stomping hippo when she moves fast. Third, how did she get around me without my seeing her?!?!

As I was pondering these mysteries aloud, the Hubster drops his own bombshell on me. He said when he walked into the office to take my place at the computer that Lola was already in the living room. She wasn’t in the office at all.

WHAT THE HELL?!?!

So here’s my dilemma. How did Lola manage to be touching me in the office at the same time the Daddybeast was looking at her in the living room?

The matrix.

Lola
She’s probably also outside right now, thanks to the matrix.


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

Back to school jubilation…

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Well, we’ve done it! We’ve all survived another summer with the children wreaking havoc on our daily routines. As many of you know, I don’t have any kids of my own. I do, however, share in every parent’s jubilation that school is starting again for my own reasons.

And every person who tries to deny they feel the same is lying.

Heatherism #29


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

Why I love being a military wife…

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Someone recently asked me what the best thing about being a Navy wife is. That’s a really hard question to answer because there are a huge list of positives (and negatives but I ignore this as best as I can). I really buckled down to pick the very best thing. I may have overworked my brain based on the Hubster asking if I had cooked bacon while he was at work.

Friendship. I’ve been privileged enough to make friends at every duty station; some will be with me for life, others have floated out of touch once the military separates us. The best part of military friendships are the way you can bond over the simplest thing. I once overheard a conversation between two Navy wives walking to the mailbox at the corner of my yard.


Wife #1: But how can the world only be, what did you say, 6,000 years old?

Wife #2: Well, we use the Bible to  determine the age of things. I mean, it’s all in there.

Wife #1: But we have all the science to back up carbon dating and all the fossils are much older.

Wife #2: Science is wrong.

Wife #1: But how can you support one form of science while discounting the other forms?

Wife #2: What do you mean?

Wife #1: Well, you wouldn’t have your child if it weren’t for science. Doctors intervened to make it possible for you to continue carrying when you would have lost the baby otherwise.

Wife #2: Well, that’s medicine. That isn’t science.

Wife #1: But medicine is science. All the medical achievements came through scientific breakthroughs.

Wife #2: Hmmmm. Well, I still believe in the Bible, but maybe the Bible just doesn’t give me every detail of information that God has to explain the world. I mean, maybe he meant for us to read it and believe it while not necessarily knowing everything he does.

Wife #1: That’s how I read the Bible. Want to go to Panera Bread?

Wife #2: Oh, yeah, that sounds great! And let’s discuss the dinosaurs while we’re there. I still can’t figure that part out.

As they walk away…

Wife #1: Do you think you can still be Christian if you question the Bible?

Wife #2: Yes, he doesn’t want me to be a dumb sheep, he just wants to make sure I actually follow the shepherd in the end.

HAHAHAHAHAHA, and that’s a true Navy wife friendship. You can disagree on things as long as you share the same taste in restaurants.

And now I want Panera Bread. Thanks for the invite, bitches.


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much

 

Seven ways to make yourself happy…

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Yeah, right. Did you really think I would know seven ways that would make every reader happy?! I can barely keep up with what makes me happy.

I will be re-releasing my old Heatherisms because I gave them a facelift. If I had to look at the bland, yellowish background for one more day I was going to die.

Or at least hit delete.

So here you go, Heatherism #1.

Heatherism #1

What makes you happy? And please don’t make me gag with stupid crap like “my spouse’s devotion.” We all know about that. Now we want real answers, like shark shows and sushi. At the same time.


Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch 

I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet

You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather 

Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much