It’s Not About Poo, I Swear!


January 13, 2011 by Marj Hatzell

(But I worked in some goggies and backyard. Okay, I lied. There’s poo).

The other day I finally got to go to the Pain Clinic and get a shot in my arse. It was ten kinds of awesome. Interpret that any way you like (pervs), but suffice to say that needles in your upper rear area to take care of herniated discs and whatnot RAWK. I’m still numb from the knee down and I limp like Quasimodo, but hey! Progress! I’ve been standing in the shower for three days now! HOLLAH! And two days ago, in anticipation of THE! BIG! STORM! I went out and cleaned up the frozen-solid poo from the past few days. I know, no bending. Blah, blah, blah. It wasn’t gonna clean itself up and I am not successful as of yet training the gals to use the toilet, mmkay?

This, of course, was overshadowed by the fact that I woke up with the cold from Aitch-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks on Monday Morning. Drugs are good, mmkay? But these drugs aren’t helping much. It’s okay, though, because i don’t need to hear out of my left ear anyways. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to go see my sick mother, who just got out of the hospital or anything. Nah.

Yesterday we got yet another 6-8 inches of snow and the kids had a two-hour delay (that four feet last winter spoiled it forever, they’ll never have another snow day AGAIN). It’s almost better if they have a full day off than a two-hour delay because my kids don’t take kindly to having schedules interupted. Wanna know why? I’ll give you a hint. Starts with an A and ends in -utism. Bugaboo did his usual wait-by-the-door-for-two-hours-until-they-show-up and Bug Boy woke up at nine frantic and was all, “Moooooom!  It’s nine-oh-two-a.m! OMG! Mooooom!” and I was all, “Dude. Two hour delay.” And he was all, “Oh. But. But. But.” And couldn’t quite grasp it. And then he started in on, “Mom. Groundhog’s Day is February second, right? And it’s about three weeks from now? Right? And that’s the day that the Groundhog will see his Shadow?”  And inside I was all, “f*ckity-f*ck!” because he gets really anxious about this Groundhog crap. Remember? From before? If not, I’ll linky it because you have to read. In this kid’s head, Groundhog’s day SURPASES ALL OTHER DAYS and we have to get up early and watch the live feed on the Internet and basically the success of his whole day depends on whether or not the Groundhog sees his shadow (oh please oh please oh please). So we get to watch Punxatawny Phil, in all his over-fed glory. Fun and Funner.

The real fun is waking up twenty times a night because Bristol the Pistol is scratching and rubbing her ears. And shaking them. And jumping on the bed. And jumping off the bed. Which means I think she has another ear infection. Because she’s a lab, and even though I NEVER TOUCH HER EARS, she still gets infections. Ugh. Not that you’d know, except for the whole awake-all-night-driving-us-batty thing. Because Bristol has the same expression all day.  When she’s excited. When she’s scared. When she’s happy. When she’s sleeping:


I R Serious Goggy. I R Nappin'.


That’s one exciting one-year-old dog, my friends. Sooooo much energy. So exciting. Whoa. I can barely contain it. She’s an old soul in a young pup. And what you see up there is about as good as it gets with her. Perfect lap dog. Well, except for the part where she’s forty-five pounds.

Then there’s Crazy Daisy. You can figure out what she does all day by looking at this:




Complete opposites in personality, my dogs. But it fits. Because The Guy I Live With and Me? Let’s just say I AM DAISY and HE IS BRISTOL. And Bugaboo and Bug Boy? Bug Boy is Me. And Daisy. And Bugaboo is mostly Bristol. With Daisy’s energy mixed in.  They say dogs resemble their owners. AND HOW. Funny how that works out.

And last but not least, I also had a PELVIC ULTRASOUND! So much fun! You get to drink nine million gallons of water in five minutes and then hold it for an hour or two. Or three. And when you finally get the OK to empty your bladder you barely make it. But wait!  THERE’S MORE!  RIght after I also had a VAGINAL! ULTRASOUND!  And that is fun because a wand!  Goes in your lady parts and did I mention? FUN! But the good news is the cyst is not a cyst or the cyst went away because I have enough to deal with right now with my back issues, thank you very much.

Now, you’ve read this far (or gave up in the first paragraph) so I’m gonna admit something: New drugs. Muscle relaxing drugs. Groovy drugs. Side effect? Can’t put coherent thoughts together. Stare at computer for hours and can’t move. Writing for money? BAD WHEN YOU TAKE DRUGS. So, hopefully I won’t sound like an eejit this week (too late).

But I’m gonna eat tons of taters. You’re welcome.

6 thoughts on “It’s Not About Poo, I Swear!

  1. Lori says:

    Oh, I dunno…that was pretty entertaining. Go drugs!

    And hmm…starts with “A”…ends with “utism?” Hmmm…

    I know! Accoutremauntims!

    I R so klever!

  2. I vote for take the drugs then write a stream of consciousness post.

  3. joeinvegas says:

    drugs good

  4. […] hard on myself. This sleep stuff? I know you are tired of hearing about it. And the issues with poo. And my muddy backyard. And issues with muddy dogs in my backyard. But the truth is? Blogging about […]

  5. Pharmg971 says:

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