Friday, December 23, 2011

I've changed my mind.

I don't wanna Kindle Fire.


It's just not doing it for me anymore.

I want something just a twinge bigger:

Look! ---> Wyatt is even looking at it and wants it too!

That's right.
Not just a house on an island.
I want the whole house and island with it's private beaches, beautiful coral reef to scuba dive, it's private dock and, of course, the helicopter pad.

Clearly I deserve this.

Ryan: could you make 12 million dollars in the next 24 hours and buy this little present for me, so that we can spend Christmas in The Keys please?
I mean really, it's just pocket change.
BONUS: You wouldn't have to wrap anything if you got me this.

I think it's a win win. Don't you?

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Ten Things Thursday

1.  Is it Christmas vacation yet?
Because this freaking week is crawwwwlllllling.

2.  I've been getting super strangertown comments from Anonymous people on two of my blog posts. It's freaking me out.  They'll say stuff like 'This is an incredibly written piece' or 'I completely agree with this post' or ‘A very educative post’. OK, I know that doesn't sound weird, but the posts aren't anything life changing or especially 'incredible' (and we all know they're definitely not educational), they're just about my mom's mental dogs and my trip to Colo. So, if any of you cool kids out there are writing these comments, freaking send me an email so I can comment back to you! Otherwise knock it off. It's giving me the heeby jeebies. (It's probably spam. Stupid spammers.)

3.  Remember that bed that we got a few months ago? You know, the one that feels like I’m sleeping on a puffy cloud? Well, if you don't remember: we got a new mattress two or so months ago. Now try to keep up. But, for the last week I’ve woken up with horrible back pain. Ok, not horrible, but uncomfortable.  It’s all over my back too. Not just in one area. Do you think it could be the bed? Please God say no. Nononononono. I think it’s because I haven’t been exercising and my body is punishing me. My muscles are just taking little swords and stabbing me senseless in the middle of the night. Yup that’s it. Because it can’t be the new bed. That would be tragic city.

4.  Ooooo OOoooo, I forgot to tell you all!!! I got a new phone last week. Yes, yes, the crapberry finally took a big dump and quit working. I had it for two years and the battery was on its last leg. And I mean LAST leg. So, one day it dies. Won’t turn back on. Rude. So, I head to the phone store and tell them, “I want to be cool. Give me a cool phone. Spank you very much.” 
And TaaaaDaaaaa:

Meet my little Droid Bionic. Its not the newest phone on the market but at least I now have APPS!! 
So amazing. So pretty. So my new best friend.
And I even downloaded Google Reader so I can read your blogs w/o having to get on a computer!!! How fabulous is that?!
Uber fabulous, I say.

5.  I tried yesterday to go the whole day without any sort of caffeine.
Didn’t happen.
See, for the last 3 weeks I’ve had a 20oz diet Mt. Dew for breakfast every day. It was yummy. Oh so yummy. But I need to give up that crap and be caffeine free like I was a month ago. Well, I got to about 11am and thought my head was going to explode, so I broke down and bought a little can of the wonder soda. Two sips later and all was right with the world.

Why is it that when I used to drink a horse trough of coffee every morning and then some sort of diet soda in the afternoon and I quit cold turkey, I had no problems? But now that I’ve had 21 days of caffeine my body is like, “WHAAAA???? Oh hell no sista! No you dit’en’t?! I’ll teach you, you little hussy!!!”.
Today’s another day.
So far so caffeine-free.

6.  Someone in my household is too smart for their own good. And it definitely ain’t this lady. It’s the little innocent cuteypants puppy. The other night, we were all in the living room (we being Ryan, Wyatt, and I), and Wyatt jumps up and starts sniffing ‘his’ present under the tree.  I never told/showed him which one was his, and it was right next to Ryan's parents doggy's presents that were treats.  But he didn’t pick those, he picked ‘his’. He nudged it off the top of the stack and proceeded to tear into the paper. Freaking smarty-pants. Since I’m a pushover, I just let him open it, but told him that he won’t have any presents to open at Christmas now. (Yes, I have full blown convos with my dog. It’s fine.) It's kinda like a kong ball wrapped in cloth with little things hanging from the bottom. And it squeaks.  Which is just awesome. Why do we buy squeaky toys for him? Why?
Here’s some pics of his early Christmas adventure:

So excited he wouldn't sit still for the camera.

Still outta control excited.

Finally still enough. barely.

7.  Guess what I’m doing this weekend???? Besides opening presents. 
I’m getting my tattoo!! Remember when I had y’all tell me which area on my body the tattoo would look the best? Well I decided that I’m going with the ribcage, on the right side, but I still can’t decide whether to go with the large or the medium size. Decisions decisions. Here’s the design again:
Date is my stepdad's Bday; Azhe'ni means Angel in Pottawatomie (stepdad was Indian)

I’ll definitely take pics and tell you all about it when we get back from Christmas!

8.  Speaking of Christmas. Someone’s turd of a husband is being extremely sneaky about my present(s) this year.  Here’s a little background: I want a Kindle Fire. Looks fun and I love to read (oh shit, Ronnie, I keep forgetting about those damn books!! I’ll get them to you next week, swear!). So why not get one?  I tell said turd that’s what I want and even though it’s a little expensive, he can split it with his parents and then all will be rainbows and sparkles in LauraLand.  Perfect plan, right?! Right.

Well, last week, LAST WEEK, Ryan comes up to me and says, “Well Honey I can’t get you the Kindle because I sorta dropped the ball on it and it’s a little too expensive, so what do you want instead?” Jesus, Mary, and Farts.
I don’t know what I want!!! I wanted that!!! Now I have to think of something on the spot??? Not cool, not cool at all little husband of mine.
Well, he suggested a new camera bag. Yeah OK. It’s no Kindle Fire, but I’ll deal. And I really really need a new bag. So, OK, that'll work.
Now, he wrapped two smaller gifts that are definitely NOT a Kindle, or a camera bag, and they're semi-heavy. What the frick are those??!!!
Probably rocks. Or chunks of concrete.
I’m just wondering if he’s trying to be all Tricky Ricky, and got me the Kindle for real, or if he’s being serious. UGHHHHH! The anticipation is KILLING ME!!

9.  This year, instead of baking my brains out trying to make cookies and pretzels and other Xmas goodies to give away to co-workers, I decided to make a big ol’ batch of trail mix to give to everyone. Actually my cool Mom came up with it and brought me some a few weeks ago. Thanks Mom.  
Which promptly disappeared. 
I have no idea by whom.
It's extremely difficult to make. Took me 3 days.
Really, I just went to Sam’s Club and bought gigantor bags of Trail Mix, Chex Mix, Peanut M & Ms, and Muddy Buddies (or Puppy Chow), then mix together. So simple.

Pretty huh?
It’s by no means good for you, but who gives a reindeer toot?

Don't drink too much. Or do. It's fine.
But don't eat too much! You'll be hating on yourself if you do.

Have a great day/weekend/whatever with friends/family/whomever!!!

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Just to brighten your day....

I used to love unicorns.

Why the FRICK didn't they have a bike like this when I was growing up???!!!

Not hating by the way.

Just jealous.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

A Fashion Miracle.

When you're supposed to get shit on by Mother Nature, in the form of snow, sleet, rain, ice, and other amazing winter goodies, a girl has to be preeeeee-pared. AND attempt to be a semi-fashion-ista.

So who the heck ever said that camo can't be fashionable?

I have no idea why puppy and I are red. Stupid camera.
(It's definitely not the operator of the camera.......uhemm Ryan.)

And here's better color, but blurred. Nice.

And the close up.
Am I right or am I right?

I strutted this fine outfit all day at work.

Only one person made fun of me and he's an idiot and doesn't count.

Camo, practicality, and style can all co-exist.
It's a damned miracle.

Monday, December 19, 2011

It's the 'Come to Jesus' moment........freaking finally.

Do you know what you get when (for 3 almost 4 solid weeks) you eat pizza, cookies, pie, ice cream, burritos the size of your melon, cupcakes, queso dip, chips and salsa, fully loaded baked potatoes, greasy cheeseburgers, French fries, (licking your lips yet? Well, stop it!) waffles, breakfast burritos, cake, popcorn, candy bars, Sour Patch Kids, chicken fingers, more pizza, cheesecake, and muddy buddies?

You get a F*ING FAT CAT!!!!

Seriously. It’s beyond out of control.

That doesn’t even count all the pop and beer I’ve been drinking instead of water. Yup, that’s right, I typed instead, not in addition too, because H20 got kicked to the curb 3 weeks ago too.

I’m pretty much a dried up, Mt. Dew-cracked out, chunktified prune right now.

It’s gross.

I woke up Saturday and felt just awful. Truth be told, I’ve felt sluggish, crampy, void of all energy, tired, bitchy, and just plain old like shit for about 5 days now. Every time I would eat anything I would feel nauseous. Or my stomach would cramp up and I could barely move. (Not to be confused with my TOM cramping, oh yeah, that was going on also, on top of all this. Good times.) Then, I’d have a mosquito fart burst of energy followed by 4 hours of a serious urge to crawl under the bed and die for 3 days.

Sunday I woke up and the thoughts started to form that I’m doing this to myself. I’m causing all of this. Or more in point, what I’m choosing to shovel in my piehole is what's causing all of this.

But how do I stop?! Because I sure as shit need too!

I tried on Sunday, telling myself, “OK, after this psychopants Christmas shopping expedition is done I’m going to go straight home and make a big ol’ salad." It even sounded good at the time.

But what did I do??????

I went to a little burrito shop and loaded up on a Fajita Chicken Burrito. 
But I got brown rice instead of white!! 
Dolphin claps for Fatty here.

And how did I feel after polishing off said football sized burrito???

Like shit. 
Like mowed over shit.

Then this morning, what did I tell myself?  Don’t eat all the Christmas snacks at work!!! Don’t do it!! You brought a salad!!! 

Epic Fail. 


I had two cookies, a mini-cupcake, chocolate covered pretzels and a brownie.

Mother of freaking pearl.

But you know what?

I don’t want the junk anymore. I want good food. I’m actually waiting until I’m hungry again so I can eat my ohsogoodforme salad I brought for lunch.  I really really want to eat it! I really really want to eat good food!

I am finally tired of eating like shit. And feeling like shit. And looking like shit.

I deserve better.

I owe it to myself.

There is no reason, no justification, no excuse for eating all that crapfood.
None. Nada. ZILCH.

And why continue when it clearly turns me into the Incredible Bulk Bitch? I even thought about making a costume. With a cape. And an emblem.



Especially when I remember how I used to feel when I ate right and exercised?
I felt alive.

Why trade all those really great feelings for frosting? And pepperoni?

It’s just not worth it anymore.

I just wish that I could have had my ‘come to Jesus’ about 2.5 weeks ago. Or right after I had my first gluttonous binge.
Oh well, what’s done is done.
Now it’s time to move on and move up.

Now, I want to put in here that I’m pretty sure I’ll eat some Christmas cookies, and maybe cake, from now till the New Year. It’s just going to happen people. I know it. But in moderation. Moderation is the key here.

But NO MORE burgers for lunch or 18 slices of pizza for dinner. Or 4 packages of Hostess Cupcakes for breakfast.


It’s all about salads, and chicken, and yogurt, and fruit.

Now I just need to get my fat ass back on the exercise train.

Anyone know where there’s a depot?????

Friday, December 16, 2011

Winner Winner Bandana Chicken Dinner!

So this lovely little lady, Kim, from Living Domestically had this cute little giveaway a week or so ago and I just had to enter........because it was all about the puppehs!!!! Well, all about cute little bandanas for cute little puppies from K9Designs.
And y'all know how much I love my Wyatt.


I WON!!!!!

Or more like WYATT WON!!!!


Basically, K9designs is a website that sells custom bandanas for your pets. They have small bandanas, large bandanas, themed ones, solid color ones, ALL SORTS OF DESIGNS. Too cute, I tell ya.

I of course, picked a purple one (Go Wildcats!) and got the words 'WYATT, Go KSU' embroidered on it. Are you surprised, yup, me neither.

I've been waiting about as patient as a screaming 2 year old in a grocery store, but it finally came today!!!

Check it:
Not so happy about this 'thing' on his neck.

But, now we like it!

And a close up.
Pretty bad ass, huh?!

Ryan wasn't so thrilled with 'dressing up his dog', but we all know who wears the pants in THIS family. Right girls?! Right.
(It'd be Wyatt. He wears the pants. Actually, khaki's.)

Anyways, if y'all want a cute little bandana, check out K9designs!!!! Pretty reasonably priced and when I ordered it, it came within a few days!!! Bonus!

And let me know how cute you think Wyatt is in his KSU gear! He just dying to know what you think!

Thanks again Kim!!

Thursday, December 15, 2011

VooDoo dolls and Morphine.

Today I’m going to forgo the normal Ten Things Thursday for an absolutely great story about my unbelievably fabulous day yesterday. Trust me, this definitely takes the cake on my normal random bullshit. Good times I tell ya, good times.
***Boys: might one to skip this one! Women issues.*** 
Sorry, I just have no shame on here.

Here in LauraLand, we’re one big ol’ hot mess.  Yesterday, I woke up with a slight amount of pain (at the F*ing ungodly hour of 5AM) in the abdominal area; basically my body telling me that that bitch Mother Nature has come bearing gifts. Stupid tranny hooker.  Anyways, I got ready for work, trudged out to the car (only to find out I didn’t need the scarf, gloves, extra gloves, long johns, sweatshirt, facemask, wind pants, winter ski jacket, ear muffs, and stocking cap on because **SURPRISE** it’s 58 degrees at 6:00am. IN DECEMBER!!!! Oh, and it’s raining. wtf), I then trudge back into the house, change into more appropriate kansaspsychopantsweather attire, and make my way to work.  Along the way to my lovely place of employment, that 'slight pain' turned into my body feeling like somewhere out there was a Cajun Witch Doctor with stringy hair and no teeth stabbing and torturing a LauraBelle VooDoo doll, just for shits and giggles.  Gut wrenching stomach pain? Yes, please.  Lower back feeling like someone is sticking 7,458 samurai's in it? Absolutely. Unhumanly (it’s a word, just go with it) vomit tendencies? Bring it on.

In my agony induced delirium, I somehow made it to the store for the magic Midol pills, a hot pad, 6 donuts (no judging), and a diet Mt. Dew. Breakfast of champions. Then, I somehow made it into work.  I may or may not have run off the road twice, jumped a curb, and nearly ran over a mailbox along the way. I just can’t quite remember. Once at work, I tried to OD on the Midol, whipped that little hot pad outta it’s packaging and shoved it in my drawers, and prayed to Baby Jesus that he would just come and take me away to a nice little heaven complete with double fudge ice cream, Ryan Reynolds serving me calorie/fat free beers, and unlimited shoe shopping.  Baby Jesus did not grant my wishes.

Instead, my good little employees and friends Rebecca and Vicky walked in. Pretty sure they both may have dropped a load in their pants when they saw me doubled over, telling them, in between very ladylike snotty bursts of sobs, that I think they may need to take me to the emergency room. I eventually crawled out to Rebecca’s car, Vicky took my car, and we headed off to the hospital.

Rebecca asks, “Well, which hospital do you want to go to?”

‘ONE WITH FUCKING MORPHINE!!!’, is what I was thinking, but the words, ‘Mercy Hospital’ came out instead. 

Poor Rebecca looks at me like I’ve gone straight to locotown and proceeds to look up Mercy Hospital on her phone.   
Then all sweet and soft she says, “Well, do you know where it is, because it’s not coming up?” 

‘SHOOT ME!!!!!! You know, the one on that one street. Kinda downtown, but not really. Maybe on Hillside St. Or Oliver. Or on another planet. WHERE IS A BUTTER KNIFE TO SLIT MY WRISTS???!!!!!!!!’

“Oh,” she says, “You mean Wesley Hospital?”

‘Holy Christ and horse farts . Yes, that's the one. JUST LET A MACK TRUCK RUN ME OVER NOWWWWWWW!!!!’

We finally make it to the Wesley ER and I attempted to get myself checked in. Thank the Lord the nurses were so nice and sweet and patient. I couldn’t breathe because of the blinding pain, and when I could breathe it came out in huffs. And when trying to write your name, address, phone, and other pertinent info on sheet of paper, while clutching your abdomen like you’re going to die, and huffing and puffing, lets just say the communication and handwriting were not the most stellar.

They finally got me back to a room and I had to change into one of those flimsy little gowns that makes everyone look like they're wearing a moo-moo from 1985. Pretty. I then drug my ass into the bed and tried to act all tough and smart. Didn't do a very good job.

A doctor comes in and asks the same 216 questions the nurse asked me two minutes ago, so I go over everything again:

I woke up with cramps. Mother Nature’s a tramp. Pretty sure miniature Devils implanted explosive devices in my uterus on my way to work, then detonated said devices while I was driving down the highway. Took a few bottles of Midol. Still IN. EXCRUCIATING. AMOUNTS. OF. FUCKING. PAIN! No, I haven’t ever had anything like this happen before. Yes, the pain is all over my abdomen and lower back. No, it’s not on just one side. Yes, I’m absolutely sure it’s not on just one side. I don’t know how heavy my ‘flow’ is, my thoughts have been elsewhere lately, and I haven’t felt the need to check my stupid flow. Yes, my flow started this morning with the EXCRUCIATING PAIN. Yes, I’m on meds. (Could be anti-psychotics, who knows.) No, I don’t know the names.  Sorry, but the answer is still the same as 30 seconds ago, I don’t know what kind of meds. Call my pharmacy. On the scale of 1-10 the pain is 47. Yes, 47. Yes, I’m sure it’s cramps and not my appendix. Because I haven’t had an appendix since I was 16. Did I mention that Mother Nature is a Fugly Whore?

Finally the doctor leaves and the nurses return to take my vitals.  That is the moment I look down and notice that the small amount of skin that is showing below my moo-moo and above my sexy white tubes socks looks like I haven’t shaved in, oh, about 18 months. SHITBALLS! I could practically braid the shit. Sexy Laura, very sexy.  And I don’t have some dainty thin blonde leg hair people. I have big ol’ black burly lumberjack leg hair. Thank you Dad. So I asked for a blanket, and profusely apologized for my laziness on the razor action. It’s winter, after all. And my husband’s only home on the weekends. Both nurses just think this is hilarious. Laugh it up ladies. Just laugh it up. I did assure them, that while I may let the leg hair ‘go’, I DO NOT take that same approach with my pits, thank you very much. Had to pull out a midge of dignity somewhere.

This is where we got into the 20 minute conversation about how European women do not shave their leg or pit hair and one of the nurses played volleyball against some French ladies……with full-on man pit hair……and proceeded to tell us how horrible they smelled and looked.  Then the other nurse said that it’s all the rage across the pond, that sometimes they even braid their leg hair with beads and ribbons and crap all up in there. What the WHAT?! Serious? Now I’m feeling like I’m going to hurl, and not because of the pain people.  

You learn new things every day.

After that scintillating conversation, another nurse came in with drugs in hand.


I almost jumped off the cot and kissed the ground she walked on. 
But that would've been weird.

They gave me a fine cocktail of anti-nausea meds and an ass-shot of morphine.


I was then promptly whisked off to get an ultrasound to check and make sure all my womanly parts were still in working order, and that this, in fact, was most likely just a really, really, reallyreallyreally, really bad period. That was not fun. Not fun at all. Little lady pushing on my poor little stomach with that instrument of torture just to get a picture.....she about got shanked. Twice. But the morphine finally kicked  and I started to feel real GOOOOOooooooooooood.

Once back in my little room, a different doctor came in and asked me, and I’m not shitting you, the same 216 questions the previous nurse and other doctor asked me. Really buddy, really? She typed it in the computer, can’t you read?  Ok, that was a little harsh, but when you repeat yourself so many times the nearby janitor could tell you what my symptoms are, you know it’s a little overkill.  He did however, let me know that everything on the ultrasound was normal, that this was, indeed, a bad cycle, and he’d send me home with some precious goodies to keep the pain at bay. I’ll take 7 shots of morphine please. On the rocks. With a beer chaser. Thank you very much.

Unfortunately, they don’t know why this one was worse than any of my others. It probably has to do with the fact that my last one was over 3 months ago. I'm blessed with abnormal cycle times. Hip hip hooray for stupid woman parts.  All I know is that it was the worse pain of my life. And I get migraines people.  I’m feeling a little better today, but thanks to Dr. Smartypants I have about 8 little golden ‘assistance’ nuggets that I can take if things start to get bad again. 

Which……I just took advantage of an hour ago and now I am floating on air and walking on purple puffy hearts.

Good day huh?

Moral of the story: If you feel like you are being tortured like a VooDoo doll, go straight to the hospital, do not stop at GO, do not collect $100, and request ample amounts of morphine right when you get there. Then all will be right with the world again.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Bring on the CATS!

Holy purple cow ballsicles. It's been a week! But kinda in a good way.
My hubby was home for 5 days. Super duper. That's like the longest time we've spent together consecutively in months. It's a record.  But come Xmas, we'll be breaking it with a straight 10 day! We'll probably kill each other. Stay tuned for that exciting post.

I promised a KSU vs WVU Men's Basketball recap, and I know y'all have just been sitting on the edge off your seats waiting, and I have finally had two minutes to sit down and chat with y'all about it! So put on your

The night started off waiting for our friends John & Lori to arrive from Manhappiness to our little hickville paradise. They were late. But forgiven because they had to round up their FOUR dogs.  They could be two days late and I'd forgive them because of that little fact!!!

Anyway. About 7pm, we made our way down to the arena and met up with my crazysauce family. Which some of them........ahhhheemmmmm.cough.coughTom.......had been bellied up to the bar since 4:30. Sottaly Tober.

And here is John & Lori:

And us.......

Remember that post about the non-shavin' happenin' up in here? Well, it's over with. The razor met it's match and all is smooth rays of sunshine in the Wiksten Household. Praise baby Jesus.

Tip off happened and away we went. Some of us more than others on the team.

This was a special game played in Wichita at the fairly new Intrust Bank Arena. First basketball game we've ever been to there, probably about the only one played there so far. But it was a packed house! 15,004 people. We decided that if John, Lori, my Aunts, Uncle, Cousin, Ryan and I wouldn't have come, it'd be 14,996 people. And that would have been tragic. We made that game. Totally.

I gotta say, I'm just sorta into basketball. I'm getting more interested and more interested every year, well, and anything that has to deal with the Cats I'm obsessed, but pre-Ryan, nope, hated basketball. See Ryan played in high school, I guess being 6'4" helps, so he always has a game on during the season. I guess it's just starting to catch on. I'm diggin' it. It's growin' on me.

But my favorite part of the game, besides sitting literally 6 rows behind the players (WOOP WOOP FOR GOOD SEATS! THANKS UNCLE BILL!!)..........was watching Coach Martin! Jesus tits that guy has some great facial expressions.

The guy never cracks a smile during a game. Totally great guy after the games, but during........could make you shit your pants with one stare-down.

Or you could take a class in..........

He teaches well.

We played hard. We played good. But, we ended up losing in double overtime. Bummer. But it was a game of a lifetime. So. Much. Fun!!

I think it's going to be an annual event, especially since WVU is now in our Big 12 conference. I'm excited!

After the game we were all a little tired. So we went back to the house, drank a few more brews and hit the sack. Poor Ryan had to get up and work the next day.....but not John, Lori and I!!! God that day off was sooooo nice. 

BTW, i need to give credit where credit is due for this post. I couldn't have done it without my trusty sidekick. He slaved away helping write this.