Happy Holidays, Asshole!

Today I went shopping to a grocery store. Yes, I knew the date and I knew the fuckery that awaited me. But I figured a grocery store was not nearly as bad as the shopping center my darling husband was going to.  Let me explain first, I quit smoking (Again) two days ago. The holidays are stressful enough, but add in my feelings when I'm lacking nicotine and rum, and well you can imagine. 

But I was blissfully unaware of this creature that lurked inside me. I should have known something was up when after waiting 20 minutes for a bus I nearly elbowed this old woman in the face in order to get on. I gave her a look that said "Your Arthritis does not rival my wait time, get the fuck behind me old biddy." and oddly enough, she did. I then plugged myself into my MP3 player and blissfully ignored everyone and everything around me. Until we almost hit that truck, I'm almost certain I blissfully shat myself at that point.

The bus pulled up to ASDA and I scanned the full parking lot and decided the best way to deal with this was to pretend there was no one around, so the music stayed on and I marched towards the doors. Before even entering I am asulted by not one, but two women screaching at me for some charity. I couldn't make out the words so I just continued on my way. Where I was stopped by a fat guy wearing a name tag, "Hi, I'm Jamal, How can I help you?" And my urge to punch him in the face came so swiftly...

But I refrained and ignored him as well, because I clearly could not hear him asking me what I was looking for. 

I found lights, I found a rolling pin, I found the other bits and pieces I needed. And then I had to stand in line. Probably the longest part of my trip, but the woman in front of me was the slowest woman in the entire world, so I decided I clearly needed to go buy more things and left that line before I killed her.

If only I had painted ASDA with the blood of the people who got on my nerves today.

I was on a mission to find blueberries, now. I wanted muffins and no one was going to stop me. Not even JAMAL. The prick. I pretty much ignored manners and people. If someone had a child walking freely, I probably ran them over. I did not care, I needed Blue berries. And cookie cutters. And Mango.

THERE WAS NO TIME FOR SMALL CHILDREN, GOD DAMN IT. 

Really, I should have known it was going to be like that when Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch" came on and my pace quickened and a sadistic smile showed up on my face.

Merry Christmas, and I hope you don't lose a limb during your last minute shopping.

Can't think of words- Have pics instead.

The road, it humps.



KILLER SPIDER WTF.



I promise I didn't sniff them... Honest!



Why is Lincon in London? Confused :(



FINALLY.


Sorry to those of you who have me on FB and have already ~Seen~ these.

This is going to kill me, I promise

For those of you who are new and don't have me on FB, I've started running. Nothing much to brag about considering I can last about 2 minutes at a jog before my fat clogged heart and tar covered lungs beg me to slow down, and I do.

It was getting better. I had quit smoking, I was eating right and slowly I was able to run a bit more.

And then my body decided it wasn't happy with this arrangement.  Before, when I would walk, I'd get these horrible crippling foot cramps that made me stop. I've learned it is because I walk too fast, and that I walk strangely. The fix for this is one of two things, 1.) Buy a pair of specially made Nikes that we can't afford or 2.) Slow the fuck down.

Guess which one I picked?

And then lately, every time I run my legs protest in a god awful way. My shins hurt, my knees hurt... the list goes on and on. And its not getting better. Its to the point that after my little phone app. tells me to walk, I'm holding my body up on the bars of the treadmill wondering why the fuck it still hurts so much.

Lets recap shall we? My feet get horrible cramps when I go faster than 2.5KM an hour. My legs, shins, knees and feet are all trying to kill me. My lungs, blackened from years of smoking aren't clearing up like their supposed to, and nothing I try is working on that front.

So someone explain to me why I'm torturing myself when I was perfectly content sitting on my ass chain smoking and stuffing cake in my mouth? I mean honestly...

Helloooo? I'm a caaaaar...

I haven't abandoned you, my two readers. Heh. I've just not been in a mood to write. Actually, thats a damn lie, I'm always in the mood to write, I just don't know what to say most of the time.
Before I had a job and I could bitch about it (Walmart) and I had things to do and places to go and little dramas and adventures that amused me and I wanted to write them down.
The biggest issue in my life right now is a tie between quitting smoking and the fact that I could be lactose intolerant. I know, DRAMAZING.

Life exists as normal. Or as normal as the two most fucked up people to ever grace this planet can act. I have dishes to do. Sleep that I need, seeing as its 5am here. But no, these things will not happen. Because there is a car, somewhere out there, with an alarm that has been going off constantly all night. And because I have this horrible cough that has been happening all night.

Finally took some cough meds though. How responsible of me. I haven't found the car yet, but when I do I'm going to fucking light that shit on fire so fast, those damn Foxes with their kangaroo buddy won't know what the fuck just happened.
*Cough* Crabby Jen is crabby.

There was more to update you guys on, I'm sure of it. I can't remember anything so instead have a picture of something from England.



I'll write up a post in the next few days about our *Magical* adventure where I was forced to wander through the city for hours on end, walking mile after mile and taking picture after picture. It was awesome. There is still so much to see and do, but I'm not in any rush seeing as when my crazy family swoops into town I'll be forced to do it all again, so might as well enjoy it with them instead of secretly hating it like I do when it comes to visiting things in Chicago that I've been dragged to a million times.

So yeah. Thats my update. Fantastic wasn't it? Now I need to go find that fucking car...

Allow me a minute to rant.

Look, I know giving up is supposed to be difficult, and I know it's not easy otherwise more and more people would quit each day. I know it's something you have to work at and really want in order to get to the end goal of being smoke free. But I bet all these fuckers who tell you this have either never smoked or when they quit they got to fucking use patches. Right? Right.

I haven't smoked in 5.5 days. In Jen time thats about 170 some odd cigarettes. Which is wonderful.
For 2.5 of those days I've been with out patches. WITH OUT PATCHES.

The first three days I had some discomfort with the patches, some aches and just ignored them. Determined to quit. The third day, I laid on my arm and almost started crying because the joint pain was just unbelievable.We pulled the patch off. I slept for a few hours, still sore when I woke up. Figured we'd do with out the patch that day, let some of the nicotine out of my system.. see what happens.

Yesterday I put a patch on my forearm and not 10 minutes afterwards I see this...



Yeah. Red, blotchy, that bruise right about the word "Right" is from the patch. Awesome no? So I took that patch off. So now I'm trying really fucking hard not to march to the shop to buy a pack of cigarettes to hell with my lungs.

Make matters worse, John's about to go on night shifts so I'll have 4 days of nothing but myself to keep me occupied. Awesome. I see this as just one more step towards failure! Horrah!.

Someone get me a cigarette, I can't handle this shit anymore.