And now a lesson in fashion from The House of Stiletto.

This is why you always check your backside in the mirror:

I had my surgery yesterday and everything went great. Back at home now, very much drugged up and requiring massive amounts of attention and service. (Really, did anyone think it would go a different way?)

I have to say, I’m feeling pretty spoiled and I may have to do this to myself more often if I’m going to get gifts like this:

Is that not the most amazing gift basket ever? My friend Gretchen and her husband Rico went out and bought every single thing you see there separately because they knew these were all things I loved. Magazines, OPI colors, puzzles, yummy lotions and a huge Kit Kat to make sure I keep my sugar intake at healthy level. Also, I can promise you that cowbell is going to get quite the workout this weekend. More Cowbell!!!

Here’s the other really cool thing that was in the basket that is now my latest obsession:

I know, it makes no sense right? When I saw them I was all WTF is THAT? But let me tell you, it’s one of those things that just go together like sweet and salty, or Abbot and Costello or….um, I’m already starting to reach here. The combination of having warm feet with nice cool toes? I’m in love. With the socks and my little friend Gretch. She’s mine and you can’t have her.

I also got this beautiful floral arrangement from my Boss (Hi Boss!) and co-workers Jen, Julie and Christine.

Seriously, so pretty and trust me when I tell you I’m no walk in the park at work, I don’t deserve to get spoiled like that. I’ve already tried to bug them a few times since getting home only to be told to go back to bed. I think they may be enjoying this little break from me and my endless code red crisis situations at work. I can’t say I blame them. Keep sending me flowers like that and I’ll find reasons to leave you alone!

The rest of the weekend I plan on lying around, being pampered by my wonderful husband, ringing my cowbell to repay him for his kindness, sniffing my flowers and probably watching Twilight at least 29 times. I’m also going to spend a lot of time getting caught up with everyone in my little bloggy world which I’m really looking foward to. Thanks to all my sweet friends who left me a comment, tweeted, texted, emailed, facebooked, called, skyped etc…you guys are awesome!

Have y’all noticed I’m loving on that saying?

It sounds impressive, no? Well, gentlemen in the house, I’m telling you to bail out right now because I’m about to talk about my girly bits. Trust me, you do not want to be here for this.

I’m waiting…..

*taps foot*

Okay good. Hopefully we are boy free with the exception of Captain Dumbass, Cameron, Clark Kent, DC Urban Dad and possibly Damon who have a habit of hanging around here on a daily basis and rarely do what I tell them to. You men have been warned. No bitching from you at the end of this post!

So here’s the deal. I’m having surgery on Thursday to get my girly bits fixed. The bits have been causing a lot of issues as of late. Now for you men that may still be hanging around, I’m not talking about the bewbs. (Thank you Domestic Chicky for coining that phrase!). I’m talking about my other girly bits. I’m talking about…

Still with me boys?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

So tomorrow, I’m going in and getting all sorts of stuff done that will fix this little problem forever. Also? I’m getting my tubes tied. I’ve struggled for years on this birth control thing. Yes, yes… I know The Man could have gotten a vascectomy.

Um yeah, not so much on that front. The Manly bits are not to be touched by surgical instruments. They are Just. That. Precious.

I’ve tried pills (can’t remember to take them), the Nuva Ring (I dare not speak the horror of the getting in and out of that thing….EWWWW) and most recently the Mirena IUD. Had I read this snippet beforehand, perhaps I would have chosen a different route:

“Irregular vaginal bleeding (e.g., spotting), cramps, headache, nausea, breast pain, acne, rash, hair loss, weight gain, or decreased interest in sex may occur. If any of these effects persist or worsen, tell your doctor promptly.”

Seriously? I’ve had all of those. The only thing saving our marriage after the Mirena is my love of The Man and his willingness to put up with a chubbier, balder, bitchier version of me. Had The Man read that little part about decreased interest in sex? He would have set fire to the damn thing. And honestly? I would have paid him to do it.

The good news is…it’s outta here. Life can return to normal.

Now, none of this is your bidness except for three things:

1.) I like to gross you out….especially you Daddy Bloggers.
2.) If any of you are ever considering the Mirena, I’d advise you to do a lot of research and talk to tons of people before making the committment.
3.) I’d like all of you to remember that if you see odd comments on your blogs over the next few days, it’s not me talking, it’s the painkillers.

Apologies in advance…this could get interesting!

Today we invited the devil into our home.

Oh sure, it all started innocently enough. I need to lose a few pounds and I’m very much in favor of teaching my kids the value of physical fitness because as a child, it was never taught to me.

Side note: The only time I won an athletic competition was when I was seven. It was a swimming race and I was SO PROUD. If you could please just ignore that there was NO ONE ELSE IN THE RACE and it took me the better part of a martini laced afternoon to make it to the end of the pool at the local country club in 1972, that would be great. By the time I crossed the finish line, my parents were doing drunken somersaults down in the sandtraps at the golf course.

But we can talk about that another time.

Wait, where was I?

Oh yes, the Wii.

So we got the Wii because I thought it would be a great family challenge. Of course, I was not going to go first. The Man took the lead and hopped on to get his physical evaluation. We all watched intently at first and cheered as he was informed he was within normal BMI. Yay Man! Once he got to the balance part though, it was gloves off in the Stiletto house as the Wii politely told him, “Balance is obviously not your forte.” The Wii even went so far as to ask, “Do you often trip over your own feet while walking?”

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

The Wii then went on to tell him his age, according to it, was 47 years old.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

A few choice words and The Man was off the Wii. We felt lucky he had not taken a sledge hammer to it.

Next up was Mr. C who climbed on and was told he also was within normal BMI. He did all the balance tests and got the same smart ass answer about lack of balance. Then the moment of truth, his Wii age. TWENTY SEVEN.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

Miss G took the center stage after that. Now, let’s reflect back that she is a competitive cheerleader and balances regularly on top of moving pyramids. She gets her skinny little butt up on the balance board and…FAIL. She is also of the unbalanced Stiletto family fame and is promptly told while she is within normal BMI, she is lacking coordination and is summarily 31 in Wii years.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

At which point she just lost her shit and started screaming “I don’t want to be 31!!! NOOOOOO!!!! That’s old!!!” I of course, did what any loving mother would do and frantically searched for the Flip to record this moment and report it back to you. Let me tell you this, based on the speed of her knocking the camera out of my hand (less than :10 seconds) she is the fastest 31 year old on the planet.

Then all eyes turned on me. “Mommy, when are you gonna do it?” And I”m all, “Hell no, I’m not doing this in front of such a viscous crowd.” Nevermind that I was the lead in all that action, I was not going to go there with such an audience. But then I realized, if we were going to do this, I had to come clean as well.

Yeah, that was SUCH a bad idea.

So I stepped on. I did the tests. I yelled, “AVERT YOUR EYES!!!!” when it came time for me to check my weight. (Which really? When did THAT happen???).

The end result? My BMI is overweight, I lack balance and I have an estimated Wii age of FIFTY FRIGGIN’ THREE.

Holy shit.

So now it’s on like Donkey Kong Wii Fit. You and me are gonna go round and round. I will put up with a great many things in life, but having a computer tell me I am overweight, uncoordinated and ten years older than I actually am? Well, that’s just not gonna fly. We’ll see who wins this one.

Apparently, walking in stilettos counts for nothing with this machine.

Pfft.

This week I broke my string of only going to locations that started with an A (and BTW, I would like to thank those of you that suggested lovely locations like Alabama and Alaska keeping me from booking at ticket to Antartica!) and headed off to Charlotte, North Carolina.

My day Wednesday started at 4:30 am with an early wake up call to hop on a 7 am flight. I was in pretty good mood even though I got up so early because I was going to lunch with someone I used to work with on a different account that I always liked because he is hilarious and is now my client again. (Hi Michael!) I had 1.5 hours between landing and getting to lunch and thought I pretty much had it made in the shade with this flight especially since I’d been upgraded to first class.

That was a stupid assumption on my part.

I’ve been through a lot of flight issues I’m not going to go into here but this week really took the cake. We backed off from the terminal (and I’d still like to know why on earth they call it a terminal…) and then sat there for a good five minutes. I knew we were pretty much screwed at that point because normally they have you scoot along pretty quickly to make room for all the incoming planes. What I didn’t expect was the announcement from the pilot.

“Uh folks? We’re gonna have to take her back up to the terminal for a few. We just got a call from maintenance that they’d like to look at our plane. Seems the GLUE they used last night to put the windshield on HAS NOT DRIED.”

There are so many things I don’t want to know in this life and that was way up there on the list. Glue. Holding the windshield on. That wasn’t dry. And we almost left with it like that.

Oh.
My.
God.

I will say this, better they catch it on the ground than have to go through an emergency situation up in the air but still. Ignorance is truly bliss in situations such as these.

The rest of the day was fine. I did get lost in a crack neighborhood in Charlotte while rocking out in my little red rented Hyundai but whatever. Nothing like a prissy girl in a pony tail bee bopping through your neighborhood to mix things up in the hood. I like to keep the day exciting, you know?

Eventually, I got to my hotel and I was exhausted, in need of wine, and definitely in need of some food. I wanted something simple, some sort of comfort type food. So I opted for Chicken Quesadillas. Fifteen Dollar Quesadillas. Of course, that seemed expensive to me but I figured they must be extra, super delicious.

Again with the stupid assumption. Meet the Fifteen Dollar Quesadilla. Fifteen Dollar Quesadilla? Meet my audience.

Stop rubbing your eyes. You aren’t seeing things. That is exactly what they served me. Three small triangles with cheese and gross chicken.

Three.
Not four.
Not six.
Three.

Three very small triangles with no garnish or lettuce underneath them to make them look festive. Just small and greasy. Also? I don’t think I want to know what that schmutz is up in the corner.

I finally gave up and just had one, two, okay three glasses of wine for dinner and called it a day.

What? It’s part of the fruit group right?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.