Archive for March, 2008

Snow Sucks

March 28, 2008 at 1:35 pm · Filed under dentist, pain, panic, snow

I know, that’s not an actual song title…yet. It will be when I’m done writing it. I don’t quite have the tune down pat yet, but the lyrics….oh, the lyrics!….I’m using my favorite suffix…

-uck.

-Uck allows for several prefix choices and it clearly gets the point across. At times, words are meant to express, not impress.

My mom calls this “swearapy”. She swears by it. Me? I’m still a little torn.

The pros: it’s cheaper and works much faster than traditional talk therapy and/or medication.
The cons: You can’t do it at the dentist’s office because your mouth is busy and it’s just not all that attractive anywhere else. I have an image to maintain.

See here on Hysteria Lane, not only have I been voted as having the “Best Pedicures On The Block” because I like rhinestone designs on my toes, I have also been voted “Most Laidback Wife/Mom”, too. I think if the neighbors caught me screaming vulgarities in my driveway, I might just lose that title.

Anyway, It snowed again here in Chicago. Under normal circumstances, I’d only find this a mild nuisance, but there is something wrong with my jaw and teeth again and the cold air makes me yelp a little bit. A lot.

It -ucking hurts!

I also have an extremely high pain tolerance, so I know if something hurts me this bad, it would send the vast majority of people running to the emergency room for narcotics.

Since I was contemplating whether or not jamming a fork through my face might help with the pain, I decided it was time to visit my dentist.

I am a tooth clencher and there was a crack in a molar that already had been cracked, filled, cracked again and filled again to pretty much it’s capacity, I guess.

He would try to repair the filling, but he really thought I was probably going to need a root canal based on the pain sensations I was describing. He was, of course, correct. The filling didn’t work, so I subjected myself to a root canal treatment. It wasn’t painful, but everything about the dentist sets off my panic alarms.

I know he thinks I’m a little crazy and it bothers me tremendously that the impression he has of me is some woman who freaks out, like I do there.

That’s only a small part of my personality. I tried to explain it to him.

To me, everything about the dentist is a trigger. I take tranquilizers before I go there and I’ve even tried the gas, which is supposed to calm you down and make dental work tolerable for us panicky people.
Only, I can’t stand the dissociative feeling the gas produces and I panic. No sedation for me.

I have a personal space barrier, as does everyone. When I’m laying back in that chair and have a masked man hovering in my personal space, it makes me anxious. I can’t help it. I like my dentist. It’s not him. He’s a great guy. It’s the dentist stuff.

The worst thing to do when one is unnecessarily anxious is to just sit there. You need to change your mind’s focus…get distracted…walk it off….do something.

Except you can’t do that at the dentist because you’re stuck there, staring at the ceiling trying to avoid eye contact with the masked man which leaves your mind free to run with all kinds of thoughts that don’t involve warm, happy beaches and gardens of flowers.

And… I can’t even tell him I’m going to freak out because my mouth is full of sharp instruments and Lord only knows what else, leaving me screaming on the inside, as my friend so aptly described it yesterday.

Screaming on the inside leads to panic attacks, which is, of course, what happened.

Very ugly long story short, I somehow managed to finish the root canal, but even Xanax couldn’t calm me down for the rest of the day.

To make matters worse….after all that, it still hurts like -uck. Especially when exposed to cold air. The breeze combined with cold is excruciating and having to stand outside cleaning sleet, slush and snow off my car (hello! it’s spring!) is, well, torturous.

This shouldn’t be happening and it’s leading the dentist to believe that I’m having some sort of atypical facial nerve pain issue.

Whatever this is, it has me -ucking screaming, inside and out.

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Booze Cruise

March 26, 2008 at 9:30 pm · Filed under Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora, drunk driving

Word is that Bon Jovi guitarist Richie Sambora has been arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol.

Not only did he take himself on a Hummer weaving booze cruise, he had his 10 year old daughter, another juvenile and a female passenger in the car with him.

He could also be facing child endangerment charges.

Bon Jovi spokesperson, Ken Sunshine, has no comment.

That’s ok, Ken, cause I do!

You know I love you, Richie Sambora, but are you freaking insane? Driving drunk is ridiculous enough, but with your kid and somebody else’s kid in the car? What about all of the children, adults and families in other cars on the road who probably prefer not to have their lives threatened by your stupidity ? Inexcusable.

For God’s sake, what is wrong with you?

I realize you have problems with alcohol and that’s not an easy thing to deal with, but, come on! If you can’t afford a driver or a cab, I’m sure there’s half a million people a phone call away who would gladly drive your drunken ass around if need be.

And to think I named my cat after you!

I’m very, very disappointed, Richie.

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Word Up!

March 24, 2008 at 1:18 pm · Filed under Scared Silly, comments, crazy, manifesto

Yo pretty ladies (and guys!) around the world


Got a weird thing to show you


So tell all the boys and girls

Someone left a craaazy manifesto comment on my Home Sweet Home post.

I’m sure it isn’t The Unabomber, even though I’ve used his sketchy picture. I’ve read his manifesto and he’s far more literate and organized than the author is this piece of work.

Who is it? I don’t know. They chose to remain anonymous. You’d think if you were going to put that kind of effort into writing something, you’d at least get a pen name or something, right? I would.

Why is this person so upset with me? They actually swear at me at the end!

Maybe it’s my online poker playing?

Maybe it’s that I like Barack Obama?

Is it because I’m Catholic? Kind of hard to tell, actually.

Ohhhhhhhh, Maybe the writer wanted to enter Shelly’s Scared Silly writing contest and just posted on the wrong blog!

Regardless, it certainly sounds like someone needs a nap and I think it’s me. All those words wore me out!

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A? B? C?

March 21, 2008 at 1:38 pm · Filed under Maine East High School, grades

It’s easy as 1-2-3

D?….F?

Never! Not for me!

I have to brag.

The night before last, my daughter and I stayed up into the wee hours of the night doing a poster board homework assignment. This one was a doozy, too, because a) I never read the book, b) it involved drawing and c) she was doing a lot of wailing.

I don’t normally do my kids’ homework unless they typically do their own homework, it’s the middle of the night and something resembling a nervous breakdown is involved.

Fortunately, this doesn’t happen often.

In fact, the last time I did someone’s homework was when I realized that my daughter didn’t cook the chicken before she made her Chicken Enchiladas recipe for Spanish class. Only that time, it was me having a nervous breakdown over the thought of all of those potential salmonella poisonings.

Mental note to daughter: When she wakes up in the morning, instruct her not to eat anything the other kids bring to spanish class tomorrow.

Enchiladas Daughter ended up getting an excellent grade. Included in the comments were the words “tasty” and “yummy”. All I have to say is these tasters must not eat good food very often because nothing I’ve ever cooked could be described as either of those things.

Poster Board Daughter carefully carried our homework to school yesterday morning and presented it to Ms. Crass. The artwork, she said, left a little to be desired (bitch!), but the drawings showed great thought and a total comprehension of the book.

The grade?

100%. Yes, that’s right. 100%. A++++++!

It’s been (cough cough cough) 25 years (cough cough) since I’ve been in a high school classroom and no matter how ridiculous the assignment, it seems I can still pull a 100% out of my butt.

It’s not the same butt I had in high school, but it’s totally cool to know I’ve still got it :)

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Hot For Teacher

March 20, 2008 at 1:36 pm · Filed under parent teacher conferences, projects, teacher

More like a little hot under the collar about a teacher, actually.

Last night I had to attend Parent-Teacher conferences. Let me let you in on a little secret. When kids are at the Jr. High and High School levels, a teacher requesting a conference is never a good thing.

Even if the teacher signs her name on the request form with a “looking forward 2 seeing u!” alongside a little smiley face, brace yourself, because it’s not going to be good news.

We were greeted by Miss G, my son’s math teacher. I’m not even going to beat around the bush. I think she is a stupendous math instructor, but personally, I don’t like her. At all.

Besides the positively disgusting and nauseatingly large ring through her tongue that she constantly clicks against her teeth, she is Paula Abdul sweet on the surface. Only you just know there’s a Martha Stewart personality ready to run you down with her car simmering right below the candy layer. Neither Paula nor Martha appear on my “people I’d really like to spend any amount of time with” list.

My son, it seems, is “not working up to potential” in Math. He has a “C” and the teacher feels he really could have that “A”.

Here’s another little secret I’ve learned being a mom to four teenagers…“Not working up to potential” is a teacher code phrase meaning “Lady, your kid is lazy.”

Yeah, I already knew that, but it’s so nice to be reminded, thank you. We’re working on that as we have been for the last thirteen years. I have yet to find a cure, but I’m hopeful.

The only other teacher who wanted to see us was the Science teacher. She’s much more likeable, although, I think she took one too many hits in the head from a pompon or something on her college cheerleading squad. She’s very nice and I do like her, but she is somewhat of a dingbat.

“HI Mrs. Rock Chick! Nice to see you again! Your son is doing phenomenal in Science Class! I love him. He’s a doll!”

Yes, he is a doll and I adore him, laziness and all, but that certainly can’t be the case, or you wouldn’t have asked me to meet you in this gym that smells like, well, Junior High School boys.

“Yes,” she pulled out a paper and staring for a minute, “I spoke too soon. Your son is actually failing my class, but he’s so honest and has a killer smile!”

Is she taking lessons from Paula Abdul over there at the next table? Your performance sucked but gosh darn it, you are so special and you look beautiful! I think they just throw those things in there so you don’t leave the kid by the side of the road or something.

I’m kidding, of course!

But, failing? Please say it isn’t true. She said there was a large project missing and started to describe the 30 page packet and poster board project. I know he did it because he procrastinated with it to the point that I had to find a 24 hour drug store to purchase the dang board and some glittery markers. Could he have not turned it in?

OHHHHHHHHHHH, wait….wait some more….she’s thinking…..

She remembers him turning it in because of his fabulous artwork on the DNA double helix and remembers being impressed by the research on his packet, because you know, he’s usually lazy.

OK, then. Why does my son have an “F” then on something that counts for 40% of his grade? Maybe he didn’t put his name on it? Yeah, that sounds like my kid.

She’s going to look into it and if she can’t find it, she’s going to give him an A. She remembers his work, she was sure of it. OK, good enough. I was outta there and so anxious to get home to see who was getting voted off of American Idol.

As usual, I thought wrong. I came home to a weeping 15 year old daughter who my husband had brought her back home from her band concert. The band concert I had to miss because my son is lazy.

I know it sounds like I’m dissing teachers here, but, really I’m not. The vast majority of my kids teachers are excellent and I totally appreciate the work that they do. I couldn’t do it, nor would I even want to do it.

There’s a couple of them, though, that really should consider another profession, in my opinion.

My 15 year old’s English teacher is one of those. She is crass and cranky on a good day. When she gets really crabby, she assigns these insane projects that are always due the next day.

My Oldest Daughter had her Freshman year, too. To say I dislike this woman is being nice.

Ms. English Teacher got arrested last week on a traffic stop due to some outstanding warrants (huh?), so she’s been extra delightful lately. Last night, my daughter was crying because she had to design a hand drawn (NO COMPUTERS except for text in big letters) poster board depicting dreams of the main character in a book called Bless Me, Ultima.

I have to admit, I’ve never read it. My daughter was wailing because she can’t draw. She really can’t. It’s true.

Mom to the rescue! Pablo Picasso I am not, but I do draw a mean stick figure. Don’t worry, I’ll help you, my honey.

My daughter said that she needed me to draw a church with a pond to the side. Inside that pond needed to be a golden carp that was being stabbed by a man with a big spear. Ohhhhh, and work a dead owl and three ghosts into that sketch, too.

I thought I had some funky dreams.

I sketched away while she wrote her text and designed the poster board. It came out pretty good! I was very proud of myself and went to hit the American Idol tape.

“Mom, that was only ONE dream. We have SEVEN more to draw.”

Seven? No wonder she was crying. Now I wanted to cry, too. We finished just short of 2 AM.

Maybe next time English Teacher gets collared on outstanding warrants, they’ll just keep her locked up, so I can get some rest.

YAWN!

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Home Sweet Home

March 17, 2008 at 1:32 pm · Filed under St. Patrick's Day, garage door, home improvement

I’m not one of those people that shops for recreation. I pretty much only go to a store because I need something.

The worst stores for me to shop in are the sweet home improvement stores, i.e., your Menards, Home Depot or Lowes, for example.

I know I mislead you all when I told you I fixed my own faucet. I also told you that my favorite tool was a wooden spoon. That alone ought to tell you something.

I also use the heels of my shoes as a hammer and unscrew things with butter knives. Yes, I do. I’m kooky that way.

Anyway, last weekend my car decided to drive itself into my garage door and something really needed to be done about that. Because of the bend in the door, there was a 3 or 4 inch gap at the bottom.

I had to yank all my bushes from the front of my house to get rid of the zoo or raccoons and stray cats that lived in them. I certainly did not want all those animals moving into my attached garage.

Fortunately for me, I have a sha na na na na na na na yippity dip da do friend I call The Big BaHuna. Not only is a rock star, he is a gifted handyman and fixer of all things the Rock Chick breaks, crashes into, and/or tries to fix herself with a wooden spoon.

BaHuna said to get a garage door and he would fix it all up for me! YAY! I also needed two wrought iron railings to put on the step leading up to my front door. The bushes had previously kept people from falling off the edge. Now that they are gone, I need something there.

I have a one car garage, so I went to Menards and spoke to the actually not-so-helpful garage door guy. He says I need to know if my door is 8 or 9 feet wide. I called the hubby and he measured it. It was 10 feet.

I told the salesman and he said it wasn’t 10 feet, it was either 8 or 9.

Hubby measured again. Same 10 feet.

The salesman said no, it couldn’t be. I know enough to know that an 8 or 9 foot door wasn’t going to cover the opening if it was 10 feet like hubby said it was.

Okaaayyy, not buying a garage door, how about a railing for my front steps. I’m guessing railing isn’t the correct word because the guy sent me over to the patio decking area. I poked around and didn’t see what I needed so I asked someone else.

They don’t have anything like that.

So, I went home to do a little internet research and guess what, they do have 10’ garage doors, just not in stock at the store. Couldn’t find the railing I want online, either.

Perhaps another store could help me.

Armed with exact measurements, I went to Home Depot. I stood at the “order a garage door” counter for quite a while before someone came to help me.

Only he didn’t help me. He told me he was too busy to take my $1300 garage door order and could I come back later.

Well, I guess I could, but I’m not going to.

I went to the other Home Depot. We have one on every corner here. That guy helped me but he seriously doubted I could get a 10’ garage door in my van. They would be happy to deliver it in 45 days.

Ok, but I don’t need installation. I have The Big BaHuna!

Dealing with these guys is like dealing with car salesmen. The delivery and installation added almost $700 to the price of the actual door. Yet, they were having some special where installation was only $99.00,so it was almost the same price.

Forget the delivery. I’ll rent a truck if I have to. GEEZ!

Railings? No railings. Only patio and pool deck stuff.

A trip to Lowe’s produced the same results. Although, the guy there suggested I use these metal rack things and turn them sideways to make a railing.

I don’t think so.

I called the BaHuna to tell him I had no garage door or railings, but he came over anyway to see what he could do. I couldn’t believe my eyes, but he actually straightened that dang door out. It even goes up and down smoothly with the garage door opener. And he didn’t use wooden spoons, shoe heels or butter knives to do it!

There are good ships,
and there are wood ships,
The ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships, are friendships,
And may they always be.

Yes, there are a few dents still on the front of the door. The hubby and I pondered and we decided to keep it as is. Hysteria Lane will have to survive.

I want to wish you all a Happy St. Patrick’s Day and leave you with one of my favorite superbad Irish Jokes….

Q: What’s Irish and sits outside in the summertime?
A: Paddy O’Furniture!

Which is what I’m going to buy instead of a garage door!

Sláinte!

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While Shivering In My Shoes

March 14, 2008 at 1:08 pm · Filed under Postcards From The Funny Farm, Scared Silly, This Eclectic Life, writing contest

I strike a careless pose
And whistle a happy tune
So no one ever knows…

I’M AFRAID!

That’s what I usually do, but this time, it’s different. My friend, Shelly, over at This Eclectic Life is hosting a writing contest and you could win $30 dollars in cold, hard, Paypal cash!

I adore Shelly’s contests and her theme for this writing contest is “Scared Silly”. It can be fact or fiction, funny or serious.

Whatever blows YOUR dress up!

There aren’t too many rules, except that it should be about 500 words or less and we’re supposed to avoid profanity. Hmmmm. I’ll have to cleverly disguise some of my scary moment outbursts!

Unexpected encounters with cotton balls bring out the worst in me sometimes :)

Even if you don’t have a blog, you can enter! All of the contest details can be found here.

The contest will be judged by one of my other favorite blogging buddies, Damien Riley. We are warned that even if we try to schmooze Damien, it’s not going to score us any brownie points in this competition.

Seriously? What kind of arrangement is that?

Damien has a super fab blog called Postcards From The Funny Farm and usually, I am the top commentator over there. That has to count for something, right? (wink, wink Damien!) Sorry, Sarah!

OK, I never could pull off that sultry wink thing. I’m sure it won’t work, but it certainly can’t hurt now, can it?

So, pick up your pens boys and girls, bloggers and non-bloggers and enter Shelly’s contest with your best “Scared Silly” story.

Which of these stories do you think I should consider entering? There’s no need for fiction when you’re The Rock Chick.

The time I ran screaming from parent teacher conferences because of cotton ball eskimos?

The time I got groped by a perverted Santa Claus and when I turned around, my face went into his cotton ball beard? I still get the shivers thinking about that one!

The time I decided that the oral surgeon’s instruments looked like the torture kit on the hit series “24”?

My emergency inside out eyelid surgery is a good one!

Ohhhhh, maybe I’ll go with the time I tried to stab a ghost! It’s a good story and there’s a great reminder lesson in it.

Your mom always told you never to run with scissors, right?

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Stand By Your Man

March 12, 2008 at 6:11 am · Filed under Eliot Spitzer, marriage, news, prostitution

As I flipped through one TV channel after another, everyone seemed to be talking about the prostitution predicament involving New York Governor Eliot Spitzer.

Discussions steered towards questioning why someone in his position would hire prostitutes. Since I think it’s a really nasty thing to do, it is a fair question, I suppose.

Several authorities on the subject debated on whether the cause was too much testosterone (which they could tell he had because of his neanderthal man type facial features), an adrenaline addiction, some leftover caveman genetic instinct to spread his seed or perhaps a secret, kinky overwhelming fetish that perhaps his wife would not fulfill.

Maybe he’s like Rachael Ray’s husband! The tabloids report he likes to do weird things with feet and get spat on by prostitutes!

No one suggested the cause could be plain old idiocy, so I’m just going to throw that in myself.

Whatever his reasons, I have no doubt that Mr. Spitzer knows what he did is not only wrong, it’s illegal, and not to mention gross. I don’t care how high priced a hooker is, they’re still a hooker. (And there were at least 8 before you, Client #9.) Ick.

Step down. Move on, Mr. Governor. Your wife might forgive you, but I seriously doubt the public will. An affair, maybe, but prostitutes? I don’t think so.

I am wondering (along with all the news reporters and sex and relationship experts in the country)if his wife will stay with him.

There was a lot of people questioning Mrs. Spitzer for standing by her man during his big announcement yesterday. What’s wrong with that woman? How could she do that?

I don’t think that’s all that hard to answer. She would stand there because, oh, I don’t know…maybe she loves him? Hard to believe, right? She might be completely pissed off, but love doesn’t turn off so easily.

Why is it that when one spouse does something like this, the other spouse is criticized for staying in the relationship? If they want to stay and try to work it out, that’s their business and it’s honorable, in my opinion.

It’s supposed to be for better or worse. Granted, this is pretty bad, but he did it, not her. The public should kick him out of office, but if she doesn’t want to kick him to the curb does that mean there’s something wrong with her?

I don’t think so.

One reporter asked a relationship expert if a marriage in this predicament can be salvaged. The therapist responded that, statistically, it was unlikely.

I don’t think statistics can be applied to any individual marriage. Every relationship is different. I totally believe that if she loves him more than he hurt her and he stops doing what he did, the relationship can completely be saved and even move forward in time.

It won’t be the same as it was, but that change might be a good thing. You know, considering he was hiring prostitutes with his daughters’ college fund, after all.

What do you think? Do you think there’s something wrong with Mrs. Spitzer if she ends up standing by her man?

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We Can Work It Out

March 11, 2008 at 1:20 pm · Filed under dance, gym, work out, zumba

Now that Oldest Daughter has a job and a driver’s license, she’s fulfilled one of her long awaited goals…joining a gym. She loves working out and participating in sports and she’s good at them!

Let’s just say she didn’t get that from me.

We toured the gym, which was really nice and my eyes gleamed at the sight of the pool and the hot tub. I’m not a strong swimmer, by any means, but I enjoy it, I find it relaxing and hey, how can you not like a hot tub?

The have some 30 day “test drive family plan” so I signed us up for that. The only annoying thing was the guy pushing us to take the personal trainer route.

OK for Oldest Daughter, but unless the personal trainer is Bon Jovi, I don’t need one to show me how to sit in a hot tub.

Last night, I went for the first time. I instantly recalled how much I don’t care for locker rooms…and naked people. Call it what you want, but I am terribly uncomfortable around naked people. Particularly, completely unclothed people sitting in the sauna (which I really wanted to try!) all hunched over with their unmentionables dangling everywhere, picking their toenails.

Gag.

I swam for a bit and then went to the hot tub until a bunch of 20 something buffoons came in and started splashing around. They weren’t naked, but they were annoying so I got out and decided to walk around the gym and see what else I could find.

There’s an area over by the aerobics room called the “women’s workout area”, where the more mature women seem to congregate so they don’t have to stairmaster next to the likes of Britney Spears, Paris Hilton or worse.

I went there and decided that since I like bike riding, spinning might be my thing. I really liked it, but I really don’t want to lose any weight and I was getting freaked out by the amount of fat and calories the machine said I was burning. I have the opposite weight problem that a lot of people experience. I lose weight very easily and it’s very difficult for me to gain weight.

Perhaps a personal trainer might not be such a bad idea, after all.

While I was spinning, this fabulous music started seeping out of the aerobics room. I hopped off the bike and went to peek in the windows and saw something that I liked even better than the hot tub!

What was it, though? I had never seen this before!

One of the ladies there told me it was Zumba. I watched, entranced at the dancing moves and the music and went home to read more about it.

Zumba turns out to be a fitness program based on latin dance, although, I definitely saw some belly dancing moves in there, too.

It’s been a long couple of dancing free months for me. My friend’s band dis-banded and there hasn’t been any rock chicking.

I had to quit my belly dancing classes last fall because of the kids’ schedules and I was really disappointed. Not that it was likely I’d ever be booking gigs at The Hookah Lounge due to my inability to seductively swing veils, but dancing has always been a great anxiety reducer for me.

Believe me with the issues I have, I probably should be dancing all the time.

Since I could no longer take my belly dance class, I checked into the ballroom dancing classes at a local Arthur Murray studio. I want to do that so badly, but can’t find a willing dance partner.

Enter ZUMBA! It looks like it’s totally my thing and coincidentally, last week was the end of the kids’ cheerleading, musicals, volleyball and wrestling so I actually have some time to work it in…work it out….whatever! I’m excited!

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A Womp Bop A Looma

March 9, 2008 at 11:33 pm · Filed under Beauty and The Beast, Grease, cars, crash, musicals

A WOMP BAM BOOM!

Do you all remember Grease? It’s one of my favorite musicals! Drag racing, beauty school dropouts and oh, oh, those summer niii-yights.

Only it’s not summer here in Chicago, which leads me to my story and the main reason as to why what happened is not entirely my fault. If it were warmer outside, this never would have happened.

One of my favorite songs from Grease is “We Go Together”. Ramma lamma lamma ka dingity ding da dong.

It’s a great theme song for a lot of things like me and JW, peanut butter and jelly, and cars and garages. You just can’t think of one without the other.

Last night, I was trying to get the family together to go see Middle Daughter perform with the orchestra in her high school musical production of Disney’s “Beauty and The Beast”. It was fabulous, by the way.

Anyway, it was absolutely freezing outside. I went to get some gas for the car while everyone was still getting ready. Arriving home, I pulled up in my driveway, shivered and decided to leave the car running (which I never do!) while I retrieved my already late family from inside the house.

I stepped inside the door and as soon as I hollered “Let’s Go!”, there was a very loud, terrible crunching sound. One of those sounds that you just know can’t be anything good.

What the heck was that? I peeked outside the door to look.

And then I screamed. A WOMP BAM BOOM, indeed.

Imagine my horror as I saw my trusty minivan, with no driver, pushing forward trying to get into the garage. That dang car drove all the way up the driveway!

I understand,the car probably wanted to get warm, too, but you have to open the door before you go in the garage!

Stupid car.

In my high heels, I darted across my ice covered driveway, hopped in, put it in reverse and then cried my eyes out when I saw the damage to my garage door.

It’s not good. Actually, it’s really bad and I’m sure it’s going to cost me a lot of ching ching, chingity ching shoo bop to fix. Whoa YEAH!

UGH!

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