A Side of Rice

Hopefully Humorous (and sometimes R-rated) Musings About Life


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My Husband Has Some Set of Stones

 

On the way home from a week-long vacation in Myrtle Beach, SC, we stopped about 2 hours from home to grab dinner and get gas for the final leg of the trip. My husband ran into the bathroom and told us to order something, that he wasn’t hungry.

We ordered, ate and as we were clearing our trays he dashed out of the bathroom, through the side door and out to the car. I didn’t want to guess about why he felt so guilty scurrying out of the public restroom, so we headed to the car.

My husband was in the passenger seat when we got to the car and said “I’m not feeling so good. You’re going to have to drive.”

We had just gotten back on the interstate when he started moaning and groaning about his stomach and told me to get off again at the next exit. We spent another 20 minutes in the car, waiting for him to come out of the fast food restaurant we had stopped at.

When he finally emerged and got back into the car, he said to the kids “one of you dig around for a beach towel in the back and pass it up here. Fast!”

I’m pretty sure my face did this:

Sneer

…because — frankly — I had no idea which end of him he needed it for.

He started retching into the towel. I asked him if he wanted me to find the closest emergency room and wincing, he coughed out “no, just get me home.”

And so we drove the remaining hour and a half home, with him periodically coughing/spitting into the towel that I would be burning once we got home. The moaning and groaning continued at a pretty consistent pace.

When we arrived home, he jumped out of the car and ran to unlock the door. He headed upstairs to the bathroom. The boys and I unloaded the bikes, as well as all the suitcases and gear we had packed into the car for the trek home.

We had finished bringing everything in and my ass had literally just hit the cushion of the chair after a nearly 10 hour drive home, when my husband called downstairs, “Becky, you’re going to need to take me to the ER.”

So, on a Saturday night at 10:00pm I drove my husband to the ER. I dropped him off at the front door, found a parking spot, and rushed in. Though, just 8 weeks post-surgery to rebuild my Achilles, my rush was more like an interesting Frankenstein-ish fast hop-walk.

When I got into the ER, they were already checking him in. We headed back to the triage area and our own bay. The basic testing began with the collection of blood and urine.

I found the atmosphere quite interesting on a Saturday night:

  • There was the guy in a bay around the corner arguing loudly with the nurses, security officers, custodian — anyone who happened by his bay, really — about what a “crock of shit you fuckers are for not giving me some meds.” He added as many cuss words to every sentence as he possibly could and elevated his voice to levels any Real Housewife would be proud of. And he also repeatedly demanded the badge number of the security officers and told the nurse he was “the kind of man to make her dreams come true.” Which made my face do this:NeeNeeGif
  • There was the couple in the bay next to us who were arguing over who would get the next body piercing when the insurance check from the settlement came in. And my face responded appropriately:JJudy

And then there was my husband. He couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t stand up. He couldn’t lay down. Nothing was comfortable. He blurted out “don’t they know I could possibly be dying here?!”  Which made me want to do this:

Longroll

But instead, I said “honey, they have your test results and if there was any indication in your initial blood work of a need to be admitted to the hospital, I’m sure they’d be on it. It’s Saturday night and there are many sick people here.”

The pain continued, bad enough at two separate points that two different nurses poked their heads in and asked if everything was ok. The second time, my husband snapped “no, or I wouldn’t be complaining.” Which I’m sure made the nurse feel like:

House

and me feel like:

oops.gif

The nurse said to him “You know, any time I’ve seen a man in the ER in this kind of pain and with these symptoms, it turns out to be kidney stones.” She then turned to me and said “which people say is very similar to the labor pains a woman experiences during delivery.”

And I’m not sure if it was the delirium of being in so much pain or just stupidity, but my husband blurted out “well she had two c-sections, so it’s not the same.”

And then my face did a whole bunch of this:

Couple

I couldn’t believe the set of stones on nerve of this dude. So I quickly blurted out “Oh, you’re right honey. Slicing directly into my abdomen, shoving internal organs aside, jerking/yanking out a baby, and sewing me back up — twice — is not the same at all.” I couldn’t help but add “and let’s not forget that in December, I drove myself to the ER at 1am with a bulging disc, severe sciatica and numbness in half of my foot.”

I then turned to the nurse and said “maybe some pain meds will help ease his discomfort and keep his yap shut. Can ya hook him up?”

A nurse administered a quick shot of morphine, but it didn’t do much. Finally, his attending nurse came in to administer a pain killer through an IV, which did three things:

  1. relieved his pain
  2. made him sleepy
  3. shut him the hell up

He was wheeled to radiology for a sonogram of his mid-section which gave us confirmation of the initial diagnosis from labs and presenting symptoms. And the nurse had been correct, my husband was the only person ever to have pain and need relief had a kidney stone.

We were sent home with a prescription for Percocet, an antibiotic, FLOWMAX and instructions to drink lots of water.

Within 48 hours he passed the two stones. Without pain. Without moaning/groaning.

And without too much empathy from me. Because — both literally and metaphorically — that set of stones on my husband is not something I ever want to deal with again.

 

 

 

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My Mom Interest Survey

At the beginning of each school  year, my kids have to fill out forms with answers to a bunch of questions so that the teachers will know who the potential trouble-makers are have a sense of the personalities in their classroom.

My youngest started 8th grade this year and filled out the form. He showed it to me and you can certainly understand why I was looking for an eraser after reading it:

nick-form

In case you can’t read it, the second of the two common activities he does when he gets home is watch YouTube. Just another check mark in the #ParentingWin column, folks.

I did have to admit, though…it is Nick. 100%.

It also got me thinking. How would I fill out a form like this today? So I typed up a copy of the same questions, printed it out, and started writing in my answers.

becky-form-final

Hard to read? Here, let me make it easier for you to get a peek into my psychosis psyche.

top-half-final-version

bottom-half-final-version

What this really tells you about me is:

  • I keep telling myself every day “50 is the new 40”
  • I think this election has been a shit show, and out of 350 million people, I can’t believe these two yahoos are the best candidates we have to put forward
  • I’m a snob about the tequila I drink
  • I must have skipped the chapter on parent/teacher conferences in What to Expect When You’re Expecting
  • I read too much People magazine
  • At best, my taste in movies is questionable and relatively non-Oscar worthy
  • I shouldn’t be in charge of the music playlist at a kids’ dance
  • I am deluded into thinking “perfect” wives cook, clean, and do laundry
  • I fully acknowledge my husband didn’t get the perfect wife (but you shouldn’t feel too bad for him — because I’m so awesome in spite of not cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry. And humble. I’m very humble.)
  • And finally, I think karma needs to step up its game against people with no/a very questionable moral compass

I’m looking at you Trump, Hillary, and  fuzz-out .

 


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You Had One Job

In January of 1965, my parents were married.

Mom’s friend she met as a freshman at Georgetown Visitation College in 1960, Susan Carozza, was one of her bridesmaids, along with her sister Becky (my namesake), and her cousin Mary Anne.

IMG_1516

Left to right: Aunt Becky, Mom, Susan, and Aunt Mary Anne

My dad’s groomsmen consisted of his older brother Jerry and some young men he now describes as “the scrubs I ran around the county drinking with.” Charming.

One of those drinking buddies guys also happened to be my mom’s cousin Al. During the wedding, Al walked my grandmother down the aisle, as mom’s family entered the church.

IMG_1513

 

Susan led the bridesmaids as they entered the church.

IMG_1514

In the wedding party photo, it just so happened that Al stood behind Susan.

IMG_1515

It was at my parent’s wedding that Al and Sue met, and began their own love story. They married the year after my parents.

My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in 2015. There was a nice party in January, and we celebrated as a family with a vacation that Summer.

This past weekend, my Uncle Al and Aunt Sue also celebrated 50 years of marriage. Their son decided to create a video, and had asked for family and friends to record video congrats, find pictures, etc., to be sent to him so he could put it together.

I taped a number of people offering anniversary congratulations wishes:

Like, my sister Susan.

Sue

My Aunt Mary Anne, who was one of the bridesmaids at my parent’s wedding, also offered well wishes.

Mary Anne

My mom’s brothers and their wives sent wishes, including my Uncle Frank and Aunt Lorrie, as well as my Uncle Bill and Aunt Barbara.

Frank and Lorrie

Bill and Barbara

And then? Well, there’s these two yahoos.Mom and dad

The couple who unintentionally played matchmakers for the Goughs over 50 years ago had one job.

One fucking job.

And I’m pretty sure they nailed it.

Happy Anniversary Uncle Al and Aunt Sue!

Al and Sue Wedding Day

Al and Sue Anniversary Party

Photo courtesy of Mike Oswald Photography.  www.mikeoswaldphotography.com

 


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Becky Who?

In case you’ve been living under a rock, Beyonce dropped a visual album last weekend. Suddenly, everyone’s thirst for celebrity gossip is being quenched by Lemonade. More like sour grapes, if you ask me.

And everyone wants to know who the fuck ‘Becky with the good hair’ is. There has been much speculation about who the home-wrecker could be, much to the delight of those of us who bask in the train-wreckdom that can be celebrity.

Or maybe, everyone is just anxious to prove they are not ‘Becky with the good hair’. Like Rachel Roy (who I, too, might confuse with Rachel Ray):Skimm Image

or pop singer Rita Ora…

Eonline Becky Pic

or Full House actress Lori Loughlin…Becky Full House

Even Iggy Azalea is determined to clear her name, which — hello, you narcissistic twit — wasn’t even in the running…Iggy the Idiot

So as Beckys and non-Beckys everywhere start denying the moniker of mistress/homewrecker/cheater, this Becky is here to say…

Becky with the good hair

You know how you’d know it was me that Queen Bee was talking about? If she had sung:

Becky with a shit ton of laundry to foldLaundry to Fold

Becky with an absolute disdain for working the little league concession standSno Cones

Becky who is about 2 weeks late with the Root Touch-up In spite of what my roots would have you believe, I was not a skunk for Halloween
Becky with a bad sunburnSunburn Face

Becky with a bunch of crazy ass sports mom friends who love doing Fireball shotsSports Moms

Becky with a lack of selfie-taking skillsBad Selfie

So, let’s face it. I may be Becky with 99 problems, but being the Becky ain’t one.


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We Don’t Need No Water

My husband is a quiet, unassuming guy. He has a funny bone, but doesn’t employ it nearly as much as his loud, vivacious, annoying, outspoken, untamed, outgoing and sometimes drunk Tequila loving wife does.

But every once and awhile, he still surprises me.

We had discovered a leak in a skylight in our bathroom, and had a repair company come out and take a look. They were scheduled to do an inspection at 8:00am Monday morning. When I didn’t hear anything from him, I texted this:

Like, how much fixing it is going to cost?

If it’s taking this long, it can’t be good news

And because he was probably taking his afternoon nap (really…getting up around 10:00am is so exhausting), he didn’t respond right away. But while I was suffering through another Metro train ride on my way home, this popped up:

on Fire? Um...

on Fire? Um…

Which was quickly followed by this:

Burn

Clever, you jackass.

Love that guy.

================================

Listen to Rock Master Scott & the Dynamic Three rap out The Roof is on Fire and sing along with the lyrics below:

Let’s make some noise! (x 5)

Hey girls, B-boys
Superstar DJs – here we go!

Somebody say ‘Ho’ (Ho)
Say ‘Ho, Ho’ (Ho, Ho)
Now somebody, anybody, everybody scream (Scream)

Now throw your hands in the air
And wave ’em like you just don’t care
And if you’re not a square from Delaware
And you got on clean underwear
And your momma ain’t on welfare
Somebody say ‘Oh, yeah’ (Oh, yeah)
Oh, yeah! (Oh, yeah)

Well DJ’s spinning on the wheels of steel
Like it ain’t no thing, cause he is for real
He’s cuttin’ the jams with a wave of his hand
And it sounds so fresh it’ll make you stand
You hear the highs in your eyes, the bass in your face
This super DJ can rock the place
You hear bass, highs, tremblin’ tones
He can even cut the jams without the headphones

Well Stick Rick is rockin’ to the break of day
Makin’ all the fly girls that wanna give me a play
Now if your DJ rocks to the break of day
Let me hear you say ‘DJ’ (DJ)
DJ (DJ)

We’re gonna rock to the break of day
Say ‘Keep on rockin’ it’ (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)
Come on y’all – Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)

Heh

Uhn – Uhn, uhn, uhn

Now clap your hands and stomp your feet
While the DJ scratch to the funky beat
He’s makin’ you move until your body sweat
He’s even givin’ you more than you supposed to get
Now twist and turn and let your body burn
And show everybody what you just learned
Let’s all get together and form a crowd
While the DJ play it, nice and loud
Now everybody in the place to be
Let’s all get together, repeat after me
Say, ‘Rock the house’ (Rock the house)
Say, ‘Rock the house’ (Rock the house)
Everybody say, ‘Turn it out’ (Turn it out)
Come on – Turn it out (Turn it out)
I like it (I like it)
Come on – I love it (I love it)
Let me hear ya – I like it (I like it)
One more time – I love it (I love it)
Come on

Well I’m the master blaster, a man to see
Rockin’ the bass for everybody
If ya DJ rocks to the break of day
Somebody say ‘DJ’ (DJ)
DJ (DJ)
We’re gonna rock it to the break of day
Say ‘Keep on rockin’ it’ (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)

Djs now, I’m coming strong
You better take my advice
Because it lasts this long
Is rocking the house
One job well done
For any DJ in this world to be someone
To make a fella say “Hoo” the girls get loose
The crowd wanted that?????????????
You wanna make some cash
Because it’s all about ?????
… no matter how much you spend

Now everybody in the place to be
Let’s all get together, repeat after me
Say, ‘Ho’ (Ho)
Say, ‘Ho, ho’ (Ho, ho)
Once again – I like it (I like it)
Come on – I love it (I love it)
One more time – I like it (I like it)
Come on – I love it (I love it) Ha!

All the fellas in the house if ya wanna break dance
Say, ‘Break dance’ (Break dance)
Say, ‘Break dance’ (Break dance)
Come on
Say, ‘Break – break, break, break’ (Break – break, break, break)
Cut it up DJ

This DJ cut different ways
So let me hear you cut it, DJ

Let’s make some noise (Ho)
Let’s make some noise – come on
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire
(We don’t need no water, let the motherfucker burn)
(Burn, motherfucker, burn)
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire
(We don’t need no water, let the motherfucker burn)
(Burn, motherfucker, burn)

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire
Say ‘Ho’ (Ho)
Say ‘Ho’ (Ho)

Source: Songfacts, LLC

Writer/s: MICHAEL BELL, CHARLIE EMPRERE, BYRON MCCANE, RICHARD FOWLER, CHARLES PETTIFORD, GREG WIGFALL, RICKY WALTERS, JERRY BLOODROCK, LELITE EVANS
Publisher: MUSIC & MEDIA INT’L, INC., CLARKJAY PRODUCTIONS, INC.
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind