In fact, I was pretty close to buying a set of these:

Or these from Etsy:

But thankfully I have delayed these purchases and these confrontations. Because apparently someone doesn’t like my method of punishing you in the parking garage by parking so close you can’t get in.

I’m not 100 percent sure it was in the parking garage, but the lack of paint and the fact I really jammed in this douche in a white Range Rover last week has me thinking he’s the culprit.

So I’m on the hunt for him in our parking garage. OH IT IS ON!!!

And then I think “well, considering everything I’ve been ingesting the last three weeks has ended up flushing down the toilet, maybe I’m not getting the nutrients I need to be at a normal energy level.” And maybe that + medication is making me a walking zombie. Add that to the fact I haven’t been really drinking coffee because it hasn’t been sitting in my stomach well, and it’s lucky I don’t nap under the desk at work a  la Constanza.

Everyone is going to tell me to keep working out. But see, the problem with this issue of the Kristin Johnsons, is that it’s not as easy as it sounds. Last night I got about halfway through Day 2 of Couch to 5k and had to jump off the treadmill and run to the lockerroom, lest there be a poop-tastrophe on the gym floor. No amount of sanitizing spray could clean that up.

So until I kick this and get done with the antibiotics (SEVEN MORE DAYS!), I’m going to try to take it easy, eat bland things and hope I never have this bacteria ever again in my life.

The one really annoying side effect to this medication is that it leaves a weird taste in my mouth. I had read that in the leaflet and then laughed because really? That’s a real side effect? Suck it up pansies.

And then, as is usually the case with my life, I got this known side effect. And let me tell you, it is nasty. It is kind of a mix of a metallic taste/the taste of your morning breath after going to bed without brushing your teeth the night after a bender. And it doesn’t go away. Drinking plain water tastes like I’m drinking it as it is filtering through a cat’s asshole. I have to add Crystal Light to every bit of water I drink. (Look at that! I touted my review posts twice without planning to! Remember this is the last week to enter the drawing!)

The thing that helps the most with this is eating. Especially things like peanut butter, that stick to your tongue and linger. Peanut butter is a Godsend this week. Except, because this side effect taste is so nasty and never goes away, I’ve pretty much consumed an entire jar of Skippy in three days. So much for the diet and eating right!

I’ve finally found a balance. I use the mix-ins in my water at work and when it is really bad, I go get some iced tea or something acidic from the little store in the office building to wipe the taste out temporarily. And today, I finally bought some gum and that has helped tremendously. The only problem with that is then my fruit punch Crystal Light tastes a little minty. But that? Still better than the nasty taste on my tongue from the medicine.

Has this ever happened to you? Does it go away?

So last we left, I was sidelined with the Kristin Johnsons and buying all the toilet paper Target had on the shelves. Things did get better. After a weekend spent in bed doing nothing and eating very bland things, things seemed to be getting back to normal.

(Side note: My mom doesn’t like to call them the KJs because she was hoping I’d be well known for something more than loose stool in my lifetime.)

And then last Thursday came. I didn’t think too much of it when I pooped two times at work before noon. Nor did I think about the multiple times I had to go in the afternoon. I just figured I overdid it with fiber or something.

Thursday night we went out to a restaurant for book club. I had a good time, was home at a decent time and had chicken, veggies and a few beers for dinner. Then I got home and proceeded to spend hours on the toilet. NOT KIDDING! I think flames were coming out of my ass, since it was so raw it felt like it was on fire.

Clearly there was no chance I was going to make it into work on Friday. I didn’t even think I could make it through a shower, much less a bathroom-less commute and an eight-hour work day.

I decided it was time to head to the doctor. I couldn’t get in with my doctor, but thankfully I’m part of the Northwestern hospital group, so there are offices all over the city. (And fellow Chicagoans? The new office on Halsted in Old Town is super nice!)

I explained my symptoms to the fetus doctor (seriously, she looked like she was 22. I hate getting older and my doctors getting younger). She was very nice and very thorough. She thinks it is some sort of bacteria/infection. So she prescribed me some antibiotics. AGAIN. Because I hadn’t been on antibiotics for YEARS and have now been on them three separate times since May.

Also, on the off chance the antibiotics didn’t help or it wasn’t an infection/bacteria, she asked me to take stool samples.

And then I puked on her and asked for my $20 copay back. Because really, lady doctor? I pay you the big bucks to do gross shit like that (pun intended).

She assured me it was a last resort. And then said it takes five days to get the results, and hopefully the antibiotics will have cleared everything up and then we will never have to speak of this again. EVER.

I had to take samples from 3 separate movements. I figured that would be no problem since I had been MOVING quite a bit during the last 24 hours. Who boy, was I wrong. Want a cure for the Kristin Johnsons? Tell your sphincter that you need to take stool samples. ON A WEEKEND. Will stop you right up. Better than Pepto.

(I even went to get greasy food for dinner to move the poocess, I mean process, along. DID NOT HELP.)

Here’s the thing: I had until 3 PM on Saturday to get these collections knocked out. If that happened, it meant that the vials of poop would spend less time in my house, IN MY FRIDGE. But thanks to the sudden onset of blocked-upness, this did not happen. I finished “collecting” sample number three at 3 PM on Saturday afternoon. After the ONLY doctor’s office who is open on Saturdays was CLOSED. So the poop? Stayed in the fridge until Monday.

POOP. IN. MY. FRIDGE! Next to perishables! Like cheese! And beer!

So that was my weekend. Sitting around waiting for my bowels to move. I stayed at home until things were done. I needed to be on my home turf, clearly. I wasn’t going to be handling that in a dirty toilet at Target. (Although, the Target toilets are probably cleaner than mine.)

And now I would like to just erase this whole thing from my memory banks.

Except now there will be record of it the Library of Congress!

DAMN MY NEED TO OVERSHARE ON TWITTER!

But that is proving harder than I thought. Apparently since I’ve been doing this blogging thing for almost four years, I am now fresh out of ideas. I even looked at the notes in my phone to see if I could get any ideas from there. But all that was listed in my notes was a grocery list for tacos, apparently, and about a dream I had where I ate toes. And they were like chicken.

I’m not sure that is better than poop. I ATE TOES? WTF?

So as I was walking to my car in the parking garage tonight on my way home, a post idea came to me – parking etiquette. And the douchebags who DO NOT FOLLOW THE RULES OF SOCIETY!

We have a seven-story parking garage for our office plaza. It is too much space, as I’m usually on level two or three. There is a certain place I like to park on the ramp down on the second level. It is faster to get out in the evenings and less stairs to climb. Most days when I get to work, there are a few spots left. And these spots? Are all tinier than normal because the jackass who parks on either side of the spot does not know how to park.

THOSE LINES ARE THERE FOR A REASON! THEY ARE NOT GUIDES OR SUGGESTIONS!

For instance, if you drive an SUV, DO NOT PARK IN THE “SMALL CAR ONLY” SPOT. You will not fit. My car barely fits and it is a Nissan Sentra for fuck’s sake.

Most people would pass up these tiny spots and find another. I AM NOT THIS PERSON!

I will squeeeeze my car into those tiny spots. I especially like it when my passenger door creates NO SPACE for you to get into your car. I will get out of my car on the passenger side, if need be. Or I’ll clean your car with my big ass when I get out. ALL TO TEACH YOU A LESSON!

and you can go ahead and ding my door. I DO NOT CARE! My car is 11 years old and has 150,000 miles on it. It needs more battle scars!

A friend of mine at work said she saw a coupon book at Urban Outfitters that had “you park like an asshole” coupons or something. We have decided we are going to buy these coupons. Every day we both come in and are all “Parked next to an asshole today” or “found a coupon recipient this morning” and then we go get our morning coffee. I think it has kind of become a competition.

What are your parking garage pet peeves? And who wants to make me “You Park Like An Asshole” stickers? Because really? It’s about time we start handing these things out.

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Don’t forget to head over to my review blog and comment for a chance to win a $100 Visa gift card! And you don’t have to sit through a post about poop to get to the link either! Huzzah!

If you follow me on Twitter, this is not news to you. And I’m still going to talk about it because, well, I feel like whining.

I have spent the last couple of days at my brother’s house. I made it up to my brother’s house on Friday night. I decided to spend the weekend up here for a number of reasons:

1. This is Bella’s house, so she’ll be more comfortable.
2. My cats can stop hiding under the bed.
3. My brother has a pool.
4. There are no sisters or roommates here.
5. Yard. No more poop walks.
6. Huge flat screen TV.
7. POOL.

Plus, my brother and his family get home from vacation on Tuesday, so the dog would be here when they got back and I wouldn’t have to a) watch the dog for a day longer than needed and b) I wouldn’t have to make an extra trip up here to return the dog.

I was so looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I was going to chill by the pool, read, drink beer, watch TV, sleep in. It was going to be my version of a vacation without leaving the state.

It started off all well and good. Saturday morning I got up, made some coffee, put on my suit, lathered on the SPF 100 and headed outside. I was armed with 20 back issues of US Weekly and had not a care in the world! I was out there for about 3 hours (lest I burn my pale, pale skin).

When I came in for the day to shower, I noticed a puddle of dog poop on the living room carpet. It was my fault, I told myself, for leaving the dog inside for an hour while I was outside. I thought nothing of it. I especially thought nothing of it combined with the fact that she had been farting all morning and they were so smelly, it burned the skin off my arms.

Later in the day, as I followed her out to make sure she went potty (since I didn’t want another accident), I noticed she had the liquid squirts. I freaked out. I mean, what do you give to a dog with diarrhea? Can you just keep it outside until it goes away?

I of course got on my computer and Googled it and then asked all the wise dog owners on Twitter. (WHAT DID I EVER DO BEFORE SOCIAL MEDIA? FOR REALS!) The verdict was to give her some rice, maybe some canned pumpkin. I also read online that fasting for at least 12 hours was good. So I locked her in her crate for the night and hoped when we woke up 12 hours later, she would be ass-squirt free!

(HAHAHAHAHAHA!!) (That is the sound of my future self laughing at my past self and her optimism!)

She whined in her crate all night. Mostly because she’s not used to sleeping in the crate. I’d imagine a lot of it was because she didn’t feel well. I didn’t care. Because poop in the crate was better than poop on my brother’s bed.

Around 5 AM, I heard her whining quite a bit. I figured I’d get up and let her out and see what tha damage was.

The damage was two poop soaked blankets and a VERY DIRTY CRATE! I let her out and proceeded to throw the blankets in the wash and clean the crate. She was allowed back in and locked back in the crate sans blankets.

After I woke up for the day on Sunday, I decided I needed to go out to get white rice and some Pepto (another Twitter suggestion). I cooked her some rice (which she will only eat if she’s HUNGRY) and gave her some Pepto. Good thing I’m at my brother’s house, where they have kids, which means they have syringes by which to administer medicine.

Have you ever tried to give a dog Pepto? They like it more than you think. But still, NOT AN EASY TASK!

Sunday we spent the day outside. I actually spent four hours here:

I learned my lesson and if I was outside, so was the dog. She had some more liquid poops, but she seemed to have more energy. She was still only eating rice and drinking water, but it seemed to be working. I put her in the crate again on Sunday night because I couldn’t afford any poop-tastrophes.

Sunday morning, early, I heard her whining, so I let her out to do her business. She was back to her old, hyper self. She was a crazy dog! I was like “YAY! She’s back to normal!” So since it was early and I was going back to bed, I let her in bed with me for a few hours.

When I got up for the day, I noticed some poop puddles throughout the house and on the bed. (THE BED! NEAR WHERE I WAS SLEEPING! OMG! SHE COULD HAVE POOPED ON ME! DOG POOP! GAH! GROSS!!!)

I decided she wasn’t better, so we got some more Pepto and more rice and went on with our day.

I think she is getting better. I just tested her with a small serving of dog food. She’s been really hungry, so I thought maybe her tummy could handle it. She’ll be sleeping in the crate again tonight, so we shall see how this experiment goes. I really hope I am not washing poop blankets at 5 AM.

And just because I was at my wit’s end, she decided to escape this evening and run down the block! I had to chase her and thankfully she came back! Because she wanted to make me lose my shit like she lost hers this weekend!

So thankfully, I’m going back to work in the morning. Tomorrow evening I will be at home with my cats.Not worrying about poop or making food for anyone but myself and being glad my Shrek hand is now back to its normal size.

And I will need a vacation from my vacation!

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Do you want to win $100? Well, click on over to my review blog for a chance to win $100 Visa gift card! No, really! DO IT!

It started when the bitch at Dunkin Donuts got pissed because I DARED to use a coupon to save a dollar on my iced coffee. And with that, whore, with that dirty look, you lost the tip.

Then I got to work and it got worse. I don’t even know what the deal was. EVERYTHING was pissing me off. I took deep breaths, I took breaks, I walked away from my desk, but I could NOT shake the bad mood. Thankfully I was busy so the day went by pretty fast. Until right before I was supposed to leave and then I got HULK SMASH ANGRY because someone was being not nice to my friend.

Want to see me get pissed and angry? PISS OFF PEOPLE CLOSE TO ME! I will go all freaking crazy mama bear on your ass because if my friends/family are hurt/sad/upset, I am upset.

So, I’m going to post something light! Because I don’t want to anger the full moon gods any more.

Although, this post might anger someone even crazier.

Do you watch Real Housewives of New York City? Do y’all know how crazy Kelly Bensimon is? Well, after talking shit about her on Twitter, she now is following me! UNPROMPTED! I don’t follow her! She FOUND me! WTF?

And then I immediately forwarded it to show everyone and then thought “Oh fuck! SHE FOUND ME! I FEAR FOR MY LIFE! She’s CRAY CRAY CRAZY!”

No more tweets like this:

Or this:

Honestly, she has some sort of serious mental issues. And now I fear she’s going to hunt me down.

WHO WANTS JELLY BEANS?!

Have a great long weekend everyone! I’ll be working only a half day and spending the rest of the day drinking beer at Wrigley for my first Cubs game of 2010!

Anyway, don’t mind me, I’m back to posting on consecutive days and here I will yet again complain about my old body and its failings.

I woke up this morning with a sore back. I didn’t do any heavy lifting yesterday (or within the last 15 years), so I was a tad perplexed. Add that to the fact that the pain was right about where my kidneys are and it felt like someone had sucker punched me right in the pee-making organ overnight. And on top of it, I got up last night to pee a total of four times. Which is super odd as I prefer to never get up during the night because those are precious moments I could be sleeping. But at best, I’ll get up to pee once.

(Also, because I have an irrational fear of falling off the toilet while I’m peeing in the middle of the night because apparently one of the old coaches from the 49ers passed out one time and since he was standing up, bashed his head on the toilet and broke his jaw and was paralyzed or something. Because did you know that your blood pressure drops when you pee? And when you wake up from a sound sleep to pee, your blood pressure is already super low, so you could easily pass out whilst pissing on the pot in the middle of the night? Do you see why I don’t like to get up from a sound sleep to pee?)

Anyway, so I basically convinced myself that I had a kidney infection. I was like “back pain? CHECK. Frequent urination? CHECK. Kidney infection? CLEARLY A BIG CHECK!”

Well, it turns out, I don’t really have any other symptoms. Apparently I tweaked my back and I’m properly hydrated. The end.

But then I’m like “how the hell did I hurt my back?” I do not move much when I sleep, so I doubt it could have been from that. Like I mentioned, I haven’t carried anything heavy.

And just now, as I’m writing this post, from the comfort of my couch, I’ve pretty much figured out what the hell happened.

Remember this photo?

And how I moved the plant to the top of the entertainment center?

Well at 4 AM this morning, I heard a loud bang and shattering of glass. Somehow Simba had gotten on top of the entertainment center to eat that fucking plant and had knocked over all my picture frames. Glass + hardwood floors =

So at 4 AM, I chased Simba, caught him by the tail and then…did nothing because WTF am I going to do to a stupid cat at that hour of the morning? Not much. But at least I could go pee and now worry about low blood pressure.

I moved the plant to the kitchen counter because then at least he could feast on the plant without knocking anything over and I could get a few more hours of sleep. But before I went back to bed, I made sure that he couldn’t get back on the entertainment center. He was jumping from the ottoman there by the window to the top of the entertainment center. So at 4 AM, I picked up that heavy ottoman and moved it clear across the room so as to not cause any more disasters. At 4 AM! I’m pretty sure I didn’t lift with my legs.

So I think I solved the mystery of the phantom kidney infection. That is really a sore back. And I have since moved the plant to the balcony. Where Simba has forgotten all about it. Except for one wistful glance at it this morning as he said his goodbyes. After which I tried to put him in the shower with the water on to make him pay for his naughty behavior. Don’t cross me cat!

So I feel like I have to mention the fact that I only posted like twice last week. And then I’m sure you were all “what happened to Kristabella? Did she poop herself and die of embarrassment? Did she end up in the hospital because she pooped so much? Did she get caught itching her asshole because the poop problems have given her hemorrhoids?”

Well, it is none of the above. I was just lazy. Which is the story of my life, right? Actually, I had every intention to post something Thursday night. But then I watched the season finale of Grey’s and was PACING MY LIVING ROOM, so I couldn’t get up enough energy to think about anything besides SHOOTERS! AND BLOOD! And WORST SWAT TEAM EVER!

Although, I should have ended up staying up late and writing a post because I ended up not sleeping well and having nightmares about crazy gunmen. I mean, if I’m going to bother to dream about Grey’s Anatomy, couldn’t I at least be having sex with McDreamy, McSteamy or that new hottie, Avery?

So yeah, that’s what is new in Kristabellikstan. I think my poop issues have finally decided to get better. I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that I stopped the antibiotics over a week ago so I couldn’t still be having issues. YOU WOULD BE WRONG! Because as a nice commenter pointed out, I apparently had some sort of ailment, like Anus Explodus, that was causing this issue with me. It was brought on by the antibiotics and basically all the good bacteria in my colon was all “ABORT! ABORT! We’re being attacked!” And then that’s why I pooped. A lot.

So nice commenter Mia said to avoid carbs. She said that carbs were the devil. And really, at that point last week, I would have done anything to not poop 5 times a day. Lo and behold, it worked! Carbs ARE the devil to Anus Explodus. And now I’m doing a lot better and eating a lot of cheese. It’s really a perfect world.

And I think that is enough poop talk for this century!

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In other news, do you know what grubs are? Apparently they are some sort of bug that eats and destroys your lawn. I don’t know these things because I don’t have a lawn and I prefer that to having to keep up with a lawn.

So how do I know about grubs? Because this is the billboard I see every damn day on my way home from work. If I’m lucky, I get stuck at the light when all I can see is this:

Which hides the very disgusting critter on the front of the bag. Don’t believe me?

All I know is EXCELLENT MARKETING CAMPAIGN SCOTTS! I don’t even have a lawn and I want to buy your product to make sure I never have those creepy crawly things anywhere near me or my house!

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Finally, my sister is due to have her baby any minute. She’s technically due the 8th of June, but she’s super swollen and the doctor is worried about pre-eclampsia, so she might be having this baby sooner rather than later. She goes to the doctor on Wednesday to see what the verdict is.

Anyway, I bring her up because we had her baby shower on Sunday afternoon. It was a big party, there were like 50 people there. We played that melted candy bars in a diaper game and you had to guess which candy bar it was. It was enough to make me vomit. But I was at a good table and we got 100%! So I won a plant! And I tried to pawn it off on anyone, but I had no takers. Not because I don’t like plants, but because of of this:

I have since moved it to the top of the entertainment center and I just caught Simba trying to make a flying leap up there.

What’s new with you internet? Anyone want a plant?

That is my back door OPEN. The one that goes to the balcony. The balcony that is OUTSIDE. MY HOUSE WAS OPEN ALL WEEKEND!

First thing I did is looked to the coffee table and saw my laptop. WHEW! Second, I looked for the cats. Simba was in his usual spot, sleeping on the blankets in the laundry basket that I need to take to the laundromat because my washer is too small. I wasn’t too worried about Simba. He is a smart cat. He knows that if he were to run away, things would be dire. He knows how good he’s got it in my house.

But Kitty Kitty, she likes to bolt any chance she gets. She likes to try and sneak out the front door when I leave in the mornings. She thinks there is an awesome world out there that I am DENYING her. I figured I had seen the last of her.

I went out to the balcony and looked for her. I called her name. Finally she came running. She had been hiding in her usual spot under the futon in my second bedroom.

*DEEP SIGH OF RELIEF*

Then I turned on the heat because it was like 55 in my house! Brrrr!

Here’s the thing, as I was leaving Chicago on Friday morning, sitting on a plane bound for Houston, hoping that I didn’t stink like all the beer I drank the night before, I thought “I bet you the back door isn’t locked. And I bet you I’m going to come home to a wide open door, no cats and a ransacked house.”

Thankfully I forgot about this thought. Otherwise I would have had ruined my awesome weekend. And really, there was nothing to do at that point since no one has keys to my place. (NOTE TO SELF, GIVE SOMEONE A SPARE SET OF KEYS!)

But as soon as I landed in Chicago Sunday afternoon, I was worried about what I was going to come home to. I prayed that everything would be OK. And as soon as I got off on the elevator, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. It was COLD in the hallway. It’s never cold in the hallway, unless some window (or DOOR) is open.

And my fear was confirmed – Door. Open. WIDE. OPEN.

After I found the cats and killed the flies that had come in, I then proceeded to make sure no one was in the house. I armed myself with pepper spray and pulled back the shower curtain, opened all the closets and looked under the beds. No one was there. I really got away scott free. But I slept with the pepper spray on the nightstand just in case.

Oh, and you’re wondering, I’m sure, how the door came to be unlocked? Let’s just say I had a visitor on Thursday night after going out to a bar and this visitor is a smoker and there is no smoking in my house. And said visitor is an idiot and didn’t lock my door, which is why I will never be calling/texting/seeing said visitor ever again.

Also, I woke up with this on my arm after hanging out with said visitor:

So not only does this visitor not know how to lock a door, said visitor also gave me some sort of rash/allergic reaction. (My friend Teri said she had something similar and the doctor said it was an allergic reaction, generally to food or a preservative. SO SAID VISITOR CLEARLY ALSO DRUGGED ME. Or something.)

But I’m very, very, very thankful that this all turned out for the best. And that my kitties are still OK and still puking on my carpet like nothing has changed.

And tomorrow I’ll tell you all about my awesome trip to Houston and how it was just what I needed.

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So because I was so lucky and got away with no harm to my house, etc, I feel like I should pay it forward. Like donate money to charity or volunteer my time or SOMETHING. I want to thank the universe for doing a good thing for me. Any ideas internet? I have to help someone else for me being so lucky.

ANYWAY, after my interesting Friday night, I again put my big girl panties on (around 2 PM) and got ready to head out to a pub crawl they were having over near Wrigley. It was for charity! And I’m all about drinking beer for charity! Or for any reason!

We had an OK time, but the pub crawl was crowded and the bars on Southport aren’t really big enough to support a pub crawl. So we ditched it about three bars in and went to a local neighborhood bar. Where we played pool and got colored in chalk. We left there and hopped to another bar and ate pizza from some stranger’s party and then left. We ended up at the craziest dive bar I’ve been to in my life. And I’ve been to some doozys!

This bar is actually closer to my house on the North side. My friend Melissa had read about it and wanted to try it out. She said it was an Eastern European bar. And I was all “whatever that means.” I will never say that again in my life.

We first walked in and the place is small and pitch black. I don’t think there are any lights in there at all. We take a seat at the bar, which is more like a chin rest because it comes up that high. It was like being a little kid at the bar! Complete with bendy straws in our drinks!

I’m pretty sure we were the only people in there who spoke English as a first language. There was some woman singing (karaoke?) in a different language. And there were people sitting around tables, intently listening to her (or staring at us).

My friends got up to go to the restroom and the bartender handed me a plastic cup filled with water and told me that I can smoke in there, but just to drop the ashes in the cup. I don’t smoke, but my two friends do, and let me tell you, they were over the moon! I kind of was too because they go out to smoke and then I have to sit at the bar alone and Twitter. Now we could all be together! Huzzah for bars who break the law!

When they were in the bathroom, I also noticed a few kids. I was a bit out of it since we had been drinking since about 3 and it was, at that point, after 10. So we commented on the fact that there were kids! IN A BAR! You have a baby! IN A BAR!

And then the little one, who couldn’t have been more than 5, got up to go sing! In a bar! At 11 PM!

Right before we left, some man came up and gave us each a flower, a single carnation each. To remember our night at this bar, I guess. All I know is we’re SO going back!

(Flower squished because it has been sitting under a pile of crap on the counter since Saturday night.)

So tell me, do you have any good dive bar stories? Because I probably have enough for a weekly feature!