Gorgeous, Handmade Jewelry

I should start this out by saying that I never endorse anything in my blog unless it's something I have, use, or really really love. I do not get paid for my opinions (unfortunately--but if you would like to pay for my opinions, I will! I'm poor, and I can be bought!!)

One of my friends from college is super crafty and has been making her own jewelry for years. She makes special things for friends and gives quite a bit as gifts, too. We have finally convinced her to get off her behind and open an Etsy shop!

Baubles and Beads by Vee

Her jewelry is so fierce! I think what I like most about her shop is how every piece is different. There is something for everyone. She also told me that she typically only makes one of each piece (unless she is requested to make more), so you know that your piece is truly unique.

She just opened her Etsy shop last weekend and adds at least one new piece daily, so check back often to see if anything sparks your interest. All of her pieces are very well-made (She's a crazy perfectionist.) and very reasonably priced. She also told me that she'll be adding some of the jewelry that her mama makes soon, so that's something to look for, too.

Currently, I am in LOVE with this bracelet:

The party girl earrings are also to die for. She has a pair of these that she always wears when we go out. Everyone compliments them.

Other things that make Vee's shop one you'll like:

-Your entire order ships for $3.00, regardless of the number of items that you purchase.

-She does custom orders. For example, I would love the bracelet above in a three-strand, which she would absolutely do.

-She accepts returns. If you don't like your piece for any reason, she will either adjust it for you, make an entirely new piece, or you can just return it (though I can't imagine why you would ever want to return anything).

-You can pay through Pay-Pal with your credit card. It sounds complicated, but I assure you it is not! I had to do this when I bought an e-book. You just go to Pay-Pal, set up an account, and connect your credit or debit card through Pay-Pal. It takes 5 minutes. This is the SAFEST way to purchase anything online, and now that I've set mine up, I use it as often as possible.

Some other fun facts about Vee that have nothing to do with her jewelry, but will probably embarrass her: (Muahaha)

-She absolutely hates the sound of anyone brushing his or her teeth.

-She's obsessive about maintaining her freakishly perfect eyebrows.

And the final reason you should check out her site--She's a teacher, too :)

Baubles and Beads by Vee

Admitted or Committed?

I am a hypochondriac. I acknowledge it, accept it, and even think that sometimes it can be a good thing. I don't create illnesses, but when something is wrong, I always go to the doctor--no matter how insignificant it may seem. I once went to the emergency room for chub rub.

My cousin's husband got an ingrown toenail one summer when he was in college. Six months later the infection spread and his entire body turned blue. This is the kind of shit that would not happen to me, because I would have a doctor's appointment after a week of my toenail feeling "funny".

Anyway, I had a huge wake-up call when I actually had a (perceived) medical emergency last month. I was at work and all of a sudden I started seeing spots. I thought maybe I had looked into the sun or a bright light and tried to ignore it--until I couldn't see anything. Then, just as fast as it came on it, went away. Weird.

Next, my hand went numb...and my arm, face, neck, mouth, and throat. I was having trouble speaking. I was confused and dizzy and in a room with 15 kindergartners. I thought about writing, "Get help." on the board, but then realized, "Shit, they can't read!" I was freaking out and started sending kids to find another adult to come in so I could leave. I texted my coworker "Come to my class, having stroke, no lol..." Even when I think I'm having a stroke, I still have a sense of humor. Unfortunately, he was down the hall eating the food from the cooking class.

Finally, I took the entire crew and wandered around until I found an occupied classroom. I told the teacher what was happening, and she tried to call 911. Now, because of my history, everyone is always on my case about going to the doctor, and I would never live down calling an ambulance if nothing was really wrong. I managed to convince her that I was OK, but I needed to leave.

I called my doctor, and they said to get to the emergency room immediately, but not to drive myself with my numb extremities and all. No shit.

Five minutes later, I drove myself to the emergency room.

On the way there, I started having this throbbing pain in my head. When I checked myself in, I said, "I can't see, can't feel anything but this throbbing pain in my head, and I think I'm having a stroke."

They gave me a pager like you get at Panera and told me to go sit in the waiting room. What do you have to have wrong with you to be immediately admitted? I once saw a man with a head wound, visibly bleeding sitting in the waiting room.

By the time my freaking little pager started going off, I had to be wheeled into the triage area, because I was too dizzy to walk. The first thing the nurse did was to inject me with pain meds. And let me tell you, they inject that shit right into your IV. It was amazing. Thank god my mom got there to fill out the paperwork, because I spent the next hour and a half out of my mind on pain meds. It was awesome.

I had all kinds of blood tests and a CAT scan, for which I was totally incoherent. Then, after 3 hours, I was next in line for an MRI. When you get an MRI, they make you fill out this release/patient history form. On the paper, there is a little box that asks if you are claustrophobic. Next time, I will know to check the box, circle it, and write in, "If you put me in an enclosed MRI machine, I will lose my shit!"

I should have known that I was going to freak out. All of my anxiety triggers were present. I was too cold and uncomfortable, my medicine was wearing off and I was exhausted, the technician was annoying me off, and my head was THROBBING.

The first 20 minutes inside the MRI machine were fine. I was holding onto my little panic ball with my eyes closed, feeling somewhat relaxed. And then I realized that I had to pee. This was not your normal, "I have to pee soon" feeling. This was a, "I just had two IVs and I have to pee RIGHT NOW!" feeling.

I somehow managed to wait about 15 more minutes before I squeezed my panic ball and told the nurse that I had to pee. She told me that I had two more minutes in this scan, then they would pull me out.

Those were the worst two minutes of my life. I tried to sing the happy birthday song in my head but was so messed up from the meds that I couldn't remember the words, which only had me freaking out more. I could feel the panic attack coming on. Though I understood why I couldn't get out in the middle of the scan, I couldn't believe that she told me "No". I felt like I had no control over the situation which is ultimately what I believe led to what I can only describe as "When Crazy Charm lost her mind in the MRI machine..."

After those two minutes they pulled me out. I said again, "I have to pee, right now."

The nurse looked at me all strapped in and said, "Sorry, you still have 8 more minutes after we inject your with this dye."

I could not even comprehend what she said. "I don't think you understand. I have to pee right now. If I can't pee, I'm pretty sure I'm going to freak out and panic." I said as my grip on the panic ball is getting tighter.

"Well I can give you a bed pan."

I had my undies on, I was wrapped in three blankets, and yes, I had my period. I started having visions of peeing in the bed pan and then going back into the MRI machine and getting electrocuted from the pee that would inevitably dribble down my legs and onto the machine. And that was when I had had enough.

"I'm freaking out! I am panicking! And I am going to the bathroom NOW!" I screamed this as I started squeezing my panic ball like a maniac. Then, I somehow managed to wriggle myself from the neck restraint, sit up, and rip the ear plugs from my ears. I can't even describe the technicians reactions. It was kind of like they don't usually see someone escape from the MRI machine.

I could tell she was really mad as she wheeled me down to the bathroom, but I could not wipe the relieved, medicated, crazy looking smile off my face.

Two hours later, I got my diagnosis. I had a complex migraine with an aura. Which explains the stabbing pain in my head. Since then, I've had one other migraine. However, I've figured out that if I take 2 advil the moment the aura starts and then proceed to sleep for 6 hours, I'm basically fine.

I fell pretty, oh so pretty!

As I've mentioned, I have been having a horrible time with my skin. When I went off the pill in November, I read a lot of horror stories from women who did the same and ended up with horrible hormonal acne. My skin stayed flawless and clear until February, so I thought I was in the clear.

Wrong.

A lot of people gave me shit for going back on the pill, but until you have acne, you don't understand the lengths you will go to to get rid of it.

When you have acne as an adult, it keeps you from wanting to do things and go places. It makes you not want to have your picture taken. It interferes with your dating life. You don't want to go on a date when you're having a horrible breakout. You don't want your boyfriend to sleep over and see how horrible your face is going to look like without makeup. It's hard not to fall into a depression when your entire life revolves around whether or not you're going to wake up with worse skin than the day before.

Nothing worked. No changes in my diet helped. No over the counter treatments made it any better for any length of time. No natural treatments worked. Nothing.

This in combination with my never-ending period was putting over the edge--crazy lunatic style.

I somehow managed to get into my dermatologist due to a cancellation. Otherwise, I would have had to wait until September...Sweet jesus...She prescribed Differin and another topical that my sister also uses.

Did you know that Differin costs 300 dollars for a small tube?! Thank god I have insurance. (For the Differin and the many hospital trips I make because I'm a freaking hypochondriac. They won't even give me an EpiPen because they say I'll "abuse it". lol)

It was hard at first and dried out my skin, but I figured out a routine that is working really well. After only two weeks of using the chemical laden miracle creams, my face is recognizable again. For the first time in months, I feel pretty!

The Debbie Downer in me thinks that my face will probably fall off next week.

I'm basically the MacGyver of broken shit...

Before I go to bed, I walk around the apartment checking to make sure everything is off and unplugged and all of the doors are locked. I usually check the locks twice because I'm crazy and I have some residual OCD.

Tonight, the patio door was unlocked, as it often is. We live on the second floor and unless someone is going to scale the side of the building or the neighbors climb over the partition there isn't a lot to worry about. Considering the apartment next to us is vacant, I usually leave it unlocked during the day.

I had this very weird feeling last night that the lock was broken, but it was not. I locked it, and it was fine. However, tonight, I could not get the door to lock. I realized it was broken. My very weird premonition alone was enough to freak me out and start my imagination rolling. I immediately had myself convinced that someone had broken in the apartment while I was at work today and broken the balcony lock so they could sneak back in later this evening.

Clearly, I think I'm some kind of millionaire or something. What are my imaginary villains going to steal? My 13 inch TV? My crap-ola phone that butt dials all of my ex-boyfriends and leaves them 6 minute long silent messages? Probably not. And even though he's worthless, my sister's boyfriend is here, so for some reason I feel like his fat ass would be some kind of deterrent.

Still, there is no way I would be able to sleep knowing the door was wide open. I remembered that one of my friends who lives on the first floor of an apartment building in the city puts bricks in the track of her sliding glass door.

Now, I might not have bricks, but as the title of this post says, I'm basically the MacGyver of broken shit. After 20 minutes of experimenting with different objects, I found something that I could jam in the track.

I knew those Twilight hardbacks would come in handy!

P.S. Team Edward!

P.S.S. Team Jacob when he has his shirt off! hehe

My who-ha monologue

Warning: This post contains words like uterine lining, crazy-assness, cramps, vajay, etc. If you are at all squeamish, hate personal overshares, or a man, you should probably skip this post.

After going back on the pill, I have had my period for 6 out of the last 7 weeks. Sweet Jesus, I know. I'm basically single-handedly funding the tampon industry.

It started out as just some light spotting and stayed like that for about 4 weeks. No biggie. Last week, I made a horrible mistake and forgot to take my pill until 8pm one night. Something about thinking it was Sunday instead of Monday. This shit happens when you don't do anything productive for days on end.

Since then, I've had mild cramping and a full blown period.

Tonight, I'm pretty sure part of my vajay decided it finally had enough and tried to make an escape. I had a huge clot which had some kind of tissue in it. I was sure I was dying until google reassured me that this is pretty normal when going back on the pill and is part of the uterine lining. Oh good. No worries there.

Anyway, I know a lot of people are going to tell me that I should just go off the pill, but my hormones were irregular before going on it. I was having two periods a month and hormonal acne.

However, my problem results from being selfish and choosing a pill that boasts only 4 periods a year...4 periods a year my ass! I've had 4 periods this month and now my vajay is falling out.

On the upside, my boobs are ginormous--which would be great if they didn't still look like two party hats pointing in opposite directions....

In my panic place

Today was officially craptastic.

Last week, I hired a carpet cleaning company to come and clean the carpets in my entire apartment. We've lived here for over two years now, so there was the built up dirt...And I had just spilled half a bottle of nail polish in my bedroom. It was time. The estimate I got on the phone was $165 for my two bedroom apartment. We also have a living room and a small dining area. I thought that was really reasonable.

The guys got here (two pimply 20 year-olds) and I kid you not, could not even talk to me. I don't know what their issues were. I explained exactly what I wanted done, all rooms with furniture moved ( I payed extra for that.), the stairs, and the nail polish that looked like blood splatter. Then, I left because they were creeping me out and it smelled funny.

While I was gone, I went to look at a one bedroom junior apartment in the complex in which I live now. My sister is moving at the end of this year, and I can't have other roommates because I'm an antisocial lunatic. I currently pay around $400 dollars a month for my lovely, spacious apartment with private entrance and three enormous walk in closets. The one bedroom would be $700 a month. No private entrance, no beautiful balcony, one tiny closet, SUFFOCATING.

Needless to say, I was in a state when I left.

When I came back to my apartment, the guys were finishing up and told me that I could take a look at my room, because it was done. I knew immediately that none of the furniture had been moved.

I came out and said, "Did you move the furniture?"

He said, "Yes, everything but the bed."

Then I start thinking, "Why the hell were the beds not moved?!" but I was on a mission, so I clarified, "Really, even the solid wood dresser in my master bedroom?"

He said, "Yes."

Obviously he didn't not realize he was dealing with an obsessive compulsive, control freak, detail oriented maniac that knows the exact location of every piece of furniture in her apartment and can tell if and to the millimeter it has been moved.

So then I started to get my Judge Judy on, and said, "Hmm.. Really, I find that hard to believe because there is nail polish all over the floor underneath the dresser, and it has NOT been moved."

After he looked at it he started stammering, "Well actually I ran out of solution for that...I have some other stuff but I'm not sure if it will work..."

I was all over his ass. I paused, looked at him with my angry face then said, "Well, you can use whatever you need to, because I want this cleaned and I expect it to be clean." Then I stared him down while leaving the room. Just so he knew I wasn't messing around.

Funny how he was able to get it all up within two minutes. When it came time to write the check, I was still mad, but they finished the job, and so I decided to be nice--until he said it would be $270 dollars. They charged me extra for the stairs and $60 extra for the nail polish.

I just wanted them out of my apartment so I payed. Big mistake. After they left, I started to inspect a little more thoroughly and realized that none of our bedroom furniture was moved. Not even my floor lamp. There is trash and crumbs under my bed, and lines around everything where you can see the rest of the floor was cleaned. It didn't even look like they had cleaned my sister's room.

I looked at my sister and said, "Girl, hold my earrings!" She just looked very nervous and uncomfortable because she doesn't like confrontation or when I get ghetto.

Somehow, I managed to keep it classy.

I called the office and explained how dissatisfied I was. They were nice and wanted to rectify the situation by sending the guys back. I explained that those two losers were not to ever come back to my apartment, but they could send someone else tomorrow. I may have also demanded that the manager call me at his earliest convenience.

I spent the rest of the day being pissed and looking for other apartments. Then my mom told me I might have to move home if I don't get a full time contract job this year.

Things that will happen if I have to move home:

I will be 400lbs from stress eating.

I will have to be heavily medicated.

I will be one giant hive from the stupid dog.

Don't worry though. My dad said he would drive me to work everyday...

I wish you could see my eye twitching...

Addicted

I have an addictive personality. Currently, I'm addicted to my balcony garden. I cannot stop. I just keep buying and planting more things, reading about different plants, and trying to learn as much as I can. After killing just about every plant I touched last year, I finally feel like my thumb is finally a little greener.

I've always been a veggie garden fan, but this year my love is flowers. I've had fresh flowers from the farmers market on my table every week. Now, I'm getting close to being able to clip my own.

My plant of the week was bee balm (second and third picture above). I spotted it on Tuesday from my favorite vendor, but tried to convince myself that I had enough plants and flowers for now. Well, come Friday, I had already bought more flowers at the nursery, so I thought what the hell. I'm getting the bee balm. Then I almost got in a fight with a woman at the farmer's market who was trying to snag it.

Apparently they frown upon that, by the way.

My dad was there and said that he was a little nervous when he saw the woman checking it out. He said I got "that look".

I'm actually a little fearful for when I have a home with a yard, as I've filled every possible space on my balcony with pots and planters. Perhaps, I'll learn some moderation by then...

Or not.

Someone find me a "Welcome to the Jungle" sign, please. :)