I Wanna Be An Airborne Ranger...

March along, sing our song, with the Army of the free
Count the brave, count the true, who have fought to victory
We're the Army and proud of our name
We're the Army and proudly proclaim......

Oy Vey! I came home last night to find an Army recruiter sitting in my house talking to my son. Apparently, my son neglected to inform me that he was coming over to discuss the Reserves.

My Son....

In

The

Army?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

We aren't Army people in our house...my dad was Air Force and Hubby was Navy...there is no Army.

My Son.....

A

Grunt?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

So, of course, the recruiter gave us the happy song and dance about how wonderful the reserves are. How happy he would be. What a great opportunity to pay for his education. It was all sunshine and roses. It was all love and kisses. It was all...

A load of smoke being blown up my ass.

I flat out asked him what his chances were at getting deployed to Iraq. He danced around the issue. He tried to tell me that the jobs Shaggy professed interest in were safe. I told him he was full of shit. This is MY baby we are talking about and I know military life. Jackass.

I promptly called my dad after the recruiter left fully expecting him to tell me to hide Shaggy in a closet and not to ever ever ever let the Evil Empire (aka the Army) get their hooks into him.

Did I get that? Of course......NOT. My dad's only response was that Shaggy should look into it as active duty (heehee I said doody) instead of the reserves.

I guess on the plus side, I do love a man in uniform.....but ewwwwww Army green is not attractive on anyone. The recruiter did have one of those cute little beret hats though.....NO NO NO Army. Not my baby!

Has anyone had any experiences with the Army reserves (good, bad, otherwise) that they'd like to share with me? It sure would help me be able to steer my baby in the right direction!

Shaggy Gets No More Red Sox Gear - EVER!

I've determined that Shaggy is bad luck to my Red Sox. Everytime we get him any Red Sox gear with names on it, the player leaves. With that being said, he no longer gets any player specific gear unless it is a player we wanted traded!!!

Case in point 1: My sister lovingly orders Shaggy a Johnny Damon T-shirt for Christmas. She does this ohhh in about October. By the time December rolls around, Johnny Damon has been traded to the Yankees. The t-shirt is now a rag shirt.

Case in point 2: In April, Shaggy begs for a Manny Ramirez jersey. (Actually he's been begging for one for a few years but they are ridiculously expensive and Manny always seems to want to be traded). I managed to find a jersey on e-bay for $40.00. Cha and Ching, Shaggy's birthday done! Fast forward to now, and who's no longer with the team? That's right, Manny. That great bargain jersey? Now sitting in the closet collecting dust, never to be worn.

So, now we have one size XL Manny Ramirez Red Sox road jersey for sale.....anybody? Bueller?

Holy Vicodin Batman

Did you know that dentist prescribe Vicodin? No? Neither did I - until yesterday that is.

Let me set the scene -

3:30 pm: Grown woman who looks like she is about to cry and beg for her mama is sitting in the waiting room of the oral surgeon's office.

3:45 pm: Grown woman is contemplating making a break for it but seems to notice the receptionist eyeing her and sending the message that if she moves she will be taken down WWE style.

4:00 pm: Grown woman finally called back. Takes the long walk and imagines the dental assistant shouting, "Dead Woman Walking" as they make their way back to the office. Palms are now sweating and face is dead white.

4:05 pm: Grown woman sits in the chair...imagines this is what the electric chair feels like.

4:10 pm: Injections begin. Injections hurt. A tear or two might slip from grown woman's eye. Dentist discusses also using a long lasting local anesthic. Grown woman heartily agrees.

4:20 pm: Dentist injects the long lasting local. Injections still hurt. Grown woman begins to worry even more. Current blood pressure reading at 165/105 (Her normal is 112/67)

4:30 pm: Dentist begins. Grown woman winces and makes ouchie noises. Dentist asks what she feels. After debating kicking him in the crotch, grown woman answers, PAIN. More local anesthetic is applied. Whole bottom of woman's face is now numb.

4:40 pm: Mild discomfort as left bottom wisdom tooth is removed. Deep breaths.

4:50 pm: Definite pain and more tears as bottom right wisdom tooth is removed. Just as grown woman is ready to start yelling like a bitch, dentist announces tooth is out. Grown woman is very happy.

5:00 pm: Stiches and gauze applied. Teeth are examined. YUCK. Dentist asks grown woman if she wants her teeth to which grown woman replies that she might be a little old for the tooth fairy.

6:00 pm: Quick trip to Wal-Mart for soft food and soup and Vicodin.

7:00 pm: Back home. Grown woman gets into pajamas and makes soup. Discovers that it hurts to eat. Decides to take a Vicodin as pain is getting pretty bad.

8:00 pm: Woman out cold in bed. Does not see the light of day again until this morning.

Now, I feel like a chipmunk and my whole lower jaw hurts. I did wake up to find that my wonderful Hubby had cleaned the bathroom and kitchen so he's kinda my favorite person right now.