Jesse is awesome!

I'm so in love with this video.  I stole it from one of the bloggers on my reading list, Rachel Lucas.  Check her out.

Watch it.  Enjoy it.  But, be prepared.  I giggled so hard I almost peed my pants!

How did Angry get his nickname?

Obviously my dear husband’s real name isn’t Angry.  Come on, who would name their kid that? 

Let me explain how he got his nickname.

He’s always had quite a temper.  It takes a lot to get him mad but when he hits that point, he is MAD. 

When we were dating, we pulled into the parking lot of a movie theatre.  At the time, he drove a classic car that he loved.  As he was turning of the engine and taking off his seat belt, some teenagers walked behind the car and punched the trunk lid.  He was furious!  He wanted to get out and chase after them.  I told him to relax and we went to the movie and had a nice date.  We also checked the trunk and there was no harm done.  But, he talked about it for a long time (a grudge holder perhaps?).



Here’s the story that earned him the moniker “Angry.” 

That's not really Angry!

We were grocery shopping.  When we returned to his truck, we saw that there was a shopping cart sitting right up against the door.  He pulled it back and we saw that there were three very large dents (one was so deep that the paint had chipped).  He said a few “choice” words, picked up the shopping cart, lifted it over his head, and threw it!  Picture the Incredible Hulk minus the missing shirt, torn pants, and green skin. 

He turned and started walking to the cart corral to grab some more to toss.  I grabbed his arm and told him that we needed to leave and he needed to calm down.  The ride home was crazy as he couldn’t stop swearing and pounding his fist on the steering wheel.  He. Was. ANGRY.

Telling the story to our friends had them howling in laughter and immediately saying, “We should call him Angry!”  He’s been branded with that handle ever since.  If you ask me, I think he’s proud of it!

I almost kicked some butt at the zoo!

This is an old story.  I think it’s worth sharing.

We are lucky to have one of the top zoos in the country right here in our city.  We don’t visit as often as we should but we do try to hit it up a few times every year.

They have an event every summer called Zoo a la Carte.  You can visit the zoo during and after hours to sample food from many local restaurants and see live music by local bands.

We were at this event several years ago.  We spent the evening tasting lots of good food, listening to music, and enjoying the animals.  As we got close to the exhibit of Brown Bears, I noticed a couple pulling a child in a red wagon.  The wagon also had a cooler filled with what I will assume was beer since I got a strong scent of it as I got closer to them.  I watched as the man tossed several peanuts into the bear enclosure.

The ensuing conversation went like this:

ME (speaking towards him but not necessarily directly to him):  The sign says “Don’t feed the animals.”

Stupid Ass Man:  These are just peanuts.

ME:  Oh, I’m sure they are just like the bags of peanuts that the bears buy in the wild.  They are NOT supposed to be eating those.

SAM:  Like a couple of peanuts are gonna hurt.

ME (getting louder and more upset):  They are not good for the bears. That’s why they explain it to you on the big sign right there. 

SAM:  Geeze . . .

ME (leaning towards the guy getting ready to knock the peanuts out of his hand):  Do you need me to get a zookeeper to explain this to you?

SAM (putting his hand up, palm towards my face):  Talk to the hand. 



Not the actual hand!

He then turned quickly and started to walk away.  Angry later told me he was moving closer in case it got physical (he’s a little protective of his wifey). As the asshole got a few feet away, he turned and threw another handful of peanuts into the enclosure and looked to see if I was watching.

I really wanted to go over there and kick his butt.  I was ticked off.  I do understand that isn’t the right thing to do so I kept calm and walked the other way.  I like to think that I would have won that battle.  He was so SMOOTH with that “talk to the hand” comment that I just know I could have sucker punched him and knocked him to the ground.  What. A. Loser.

Needless to say, we do NOT visit the zoo during their a la Carte event anymore.  They allow dumb assholes like this to bring their own booze.  Then they do stupid things that endanger the animals.  I don’t want to be forced to kick some butt!

How do I love Thee?

Today is Valentine’s Day.  I enjoy studying history but don’t seem to have a clue what the history for this day is.  I keep hearing that it isn’t a “Hallmark” holiday but I’ll have to research what it’s really all about.  I know there was a St. Valentine but I don’t know (or can’t remember) what he did to deserve a day.

I think I can safely say that it is a day for love.  It’s not necessarily about a husband/wife/partner relationship but about ALL the people you love.  Your parents.  Your step-parents. Your grandparents. Your kids. Your siblings. Your nieces and nephews. Your friends.  Anyone that is important to you.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all those that mean a lot to me.  You all know who you are.  I love you.  You all make my life complete in many different ways.

I’ve been happily married to Angry for almost 20 years (we’ll celebrate that in November).  We've been together almost 22 years.

Honey, listen up.  I want to tell you this on Valentine’s Day:

You are my rock.  If I’m down or sad (or even depressed) you listen to me and help pick me back up the very best you can.  If I’m giggly happy about something, you share in my joy or silliness and make it even better.

You “save” me.  I have a lot of problems with low blood sugars.  You are the one that notices them way before I do.  You force me (using many creative ways) to eat or drink something to correct the problem.  You’ve had to deal with me being close to unconscious.  These times are not pleasant for you.  I’ve punched or slapped you and called you very bad names.  You are the one who helps me feel better after I’ve had a terrible nightmare due to low blood sugar.  These nightmares are truly terrifying for me and you are the one that can talk me down to reality.  You get suddenly awakened by a scared woman who most often thinks she’s going to die.  You handle it like a champ.  I believe that you have truly saved me time and again.  I’m not sure I’d be here if you hadn’t taken care of me in those situations.  It is not easy to be married to a diabetic.  You’ve stuck with it for a long time.

You’re my very own fashion guru (the best that a guy can be, anyway).  When I ask the typical “Do I look fat in this?” question, you have the right answers!  You help me decide which pair of shoes looks best with an outfit.  You help me decide if certain colors look crappy together.  You comment on my jewelry choices.  You shop with me and carry all my bags when I buy stuff!  It doesn’t get much better than that.

You say my cooking is good even though I know it isn’t!  Either you really love me or you have very, very bad taste buds.  I’ll believe you really love me.

You share with me.  When you have something like a tiny piece of chocolate and I give you the “that looks good, I wish I had some” face, you gladly offer me some. 

You put up with my menopausal hormones.  I’ve ripped your head off for many small, silly things when those hormones are raging.  You take it in stride.  I also do a lot of crying.  You don’t laugh at me when I cry about a stupid TV show or commercial.  And, when I’m sad about missing my Mom, you know it’s time to comfort me.

You mow the grass and shovel the snow.  I love that I don’t have to do that junk or worry about it.

You put gas in my car.  I tease you and say, “That’s the man’s job.” but you do it for me anyway.  I can do it; I have done it.  But, I like that you take care of it most of the time.

You still hold my hand after all these years.

You give me a kiss goodbye before you leave for work.  I tell you it’s silly but I really like it!

There are many more things I could list that are special to me.  I don't want this blog post to be a zillion pages long so I'll stop here.

I think you know it but I know I don’t say it enough.  I love you.

Happy Valentine’s Day to the best husband I could ever ask for.

If I write it, it must be so.

Angry and I are chubby overweight fat.  It’s a fact and we freely admit it.

We both have health problems.  I’m a Type 1 diabetic (for 36 years) with slightly high blood pressure and he needs a knee replacement.  The extra weight doesn’t help either one of us.

We have, over the years, lost and gained some weight.  We’ve also tried to diet many times (too many to count).

Problem number one is that we like to eat out.  Who doesn’t like not having to cook or clean up?  ME!!

Problem number two is that we have no sense of suck at portion control.  If I make pork chops and potatoes, we both have two chops and a plate full of potatoes.  Not good.

We’ve both come to the conclusion that we are getting older and need to do something to lose some weight and get into better shape.  We both would like to spend a lot more time together and our health may prevent that if we keep living and eating the way we have.

I’m writing this down so I feel like I’ve written some sort of contract.  If I put it into writing, it must be so.

We have begun our quest to be healthy.  Nothing crazy, just healthy. 

We are going to:

1. Eat at home more.
2. Cook using healthier ingredients.
3. Use portion control to the max.
4. Add more fruits and veggies to the mix.
5. Get some exercise.

Problem number three (and our biggest) is exercise.  I know some people enjoy it but we both find it boring and “unfun.”  Angry also has issues because his knee is so bad.  He’s limited to using an elliptical type machine and no high impact exercise.  We are going to look into a local gym that offers classes I’d be interested in.  I’m hoping that will motivate me to go.  Angry can use the machines while I take a class.

We have a trip to Mexico planned for May and I’d like to drop a few pounds by then (and be “forced” to buy a new swimsuit or two!).  We may also have the opportunity to go to Hawaii next April.  That’s over a year to try to get into shape (and look decent on the beach)!

Wish us luck.  I think we’re gonna need it.

What the hell?

Recently, Angry and I had the pleasure to see Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood of Whose Line Is It Anyway fame.  We see their show every year (the tickets are our Christmas present to each other).

We ate dinner before the show at a bar across the street from the theater.  We like this place and plan to eat there before the show every year.  It’s a small joint.  There are about 12 seats at the bar itself and five tiny tables.  They offer a limited menu of about 8 appetizers and a few “dinner” items.  Those offer a chicken sandwich, a French dip sandwich, chicken satay, and a burgers (and some stuff I can’t remember).  I think this is actually quite a large selection for such a small place.  And, the food is really good!

As we were enjoying our food (two appetizers for me and chicken tenders for Angry), many people came in and were looking to eat before the aforementioned show.  When they looked at the menu, they seemed surprised by the “limited” choices.  I heard the phrase, “That’s it?” several times.  
Most of these people left and seemed upset.  A few hung around and ordered food in a rather cranky manner (to the bartenders chagrin). 

What the hell?  It’s a small place that actually has a decent menu.  If you failed to make reservations at a nearby restaurant on the night of a show, you get what you get.

Are they always this unhappy?  What did they expect from a small joint like this?  Why didn’t they plan ahead?  Why not give it a try?  Why act so nasty towards the bartender?

Questions that will never be answered.  All I can say is, "Quit your bitchin’ people!"

The Packers better beat the Steelers today. - - - UPDATED

 That is all.



Hey you Steelers, you're gonna lose!

Go Pack!





 We WIN!!  The Green Bay Packers are the World Champs!!  Way to go guys!

Why didn't I shovel?

In the “Great Blizzard of 2011,” I didn't get to have to help Angry shovel.  Why?  Because I had to work.  I brought my laptop home to do security trades for my firm.  Unfortunately Fortunately, that meant that I had to stay by the computer while the stock market was open.

Angry put in a good four or five hours of work to clear up the walkways, the driveway, and the sidewalks (we live on a corner so there's a lot).  We still couldn't leave the house because the city didn't plow our street until after 4 pm.  Angry then had to go out and clear the huge pile of snow and the end of the driveway that the plow left.  That took over an hour to dig through.

Here's a view of the outside world:



Is there a street out there?

Angry on the way to the garage.



Getting closer to the street!



Good luck getting out.







Walkway almost done!



The unburied front door.



Why didn't I shovel?  That's what I "hired" Angry for!!  It says so in the contract on the license we signed.