Please don't say these things to me

It drives me CRAZY when people say the following things (as in I cringe):

1. "hubby" -- vomit!! you are not a five year old girl playing house!
2. "ATX" -- Just say Austin. You do not say "DTX" for Dallas or "HTX" for Houston or "EPTX for El Paso, for God's sakes. Saying "ATX" sounds stupid and makes you sound like you're trying too hard to be cool. Just stop it!
3. "bahaha" -- seriously, who started this? And why does everyone like it? Since when does a simple "haha" not suffice? I can even live with "lol," just please drop that superfluous b!
4. "epic fail," in fact also "epic" or "fail" by themselves (unless you are talking about an "epic" movie or that you "failed" a test) -- I have no words for this one. But if you have such a limited vocabulary that you can't think of any other way to describe something that didn't work, I can't help you. Look at that, I did have words.
5. when people change "the" to "da," etc. -- I'm sorry, are you a rapper?
6. when people eliminate vowels, e.g. "ws" for "was" -- Really? How much time does that save?
7. When people misspell words on purpose (I'm not talking about abbreviating here), e.g. "summ" instead of "some" -- again, really? why?
8. wth -- We all know you mean "wtf." So just say it.

As you can probably tell, most of these are on Facebook. And to think of a complete list, all I had to do was look at my news feed and take a random sample. Sad. I'm sure there are more, but these are the main offenders. And these are mostly my personal annoyances and not meant to single anyone out or offend anyone who uses these horrendous terms. Although I'm sure you agree with at least a couple of them. If you don't, we can't be friends anymore. I kid.

Life without cheese

I have never in my life eaten a hamburger without cheese. Until today.

After months, nay, years of experiencing prolonged periods of bloating, excessive gas, abdominal discomfort, and sudden bouts of "the rumblies" (I'll leave that one to your imagination), I recently self-diagnosed myself as being partially lactose intolerant.

I finally googled "how to know if you're lactose intolerant" after experiencing various combinations of the above types of gastrointestinal issues after drinking chocolate milk the other day.

The thing I read online said that a good way to know for sure if you are lactose intolerant, or partially so, is to not eat dairy for two weeks and see if you feel better. Then, if you start eating dairy again and your symptoms return, you are probably lactose intolerant.

Well, I don't know if I'm going to stick to that totally, but I haven't had any dairy yesterday or today, and I can definitely tell a difference. It's as simple as feeling different after making a slight to change to something that I normally eat. For instance, yesterday at Starbucks, I got a soy hot chocolate instead of one with nonfat milk. I felt totally different after drinking it. And today, I had a hamburger for lunch. A HAMburger, not a cheeseburger. I always thought that I felt so bloated and uncomfortable after eating a burger and fries because it's not the healthiest of meals, but after eliminating the cheese, I feel pretty normal (I also went easy on the fries, which probably also helps).

I can't say that I'll never eat real cheese or ice cream again. But it is nice to know that I can, within reason, control what ails me.

Life at the Early Bird Special

Sometimes, living with a 77-year-old is not unlike living with a five-year-old.

Now, I love my grandmother. And she's totally capable of feeding herself, dressing herself, controlling her own e-mail account (most of the time), driving herself around (hopefully the other cars are paying attention), and doing all of her old lady activities. Basically, she is self-sufficient.

But. She can be infuriating! Like a five-year-old, she argues with Every. Single. Thing. You. Say. I'm convinced she does this for sport. You have to make sure she doesn't eat expired food. You have to wake her up when she falls asleep in front of the TV and tell her to go to bed.

In five days, she is leaving to go to Tucson with another old lady for five days. They can old lady it up together and leave me out of it. I heard them on the phone yesterday (almost a full week prior to their departure, mind you) discussing the weather, what to wear, what they will eat for breakfast, etc., etc. I guess when you get to your upper 70s, you're not so good at going with the flow. Never mind that the forecast might —gasp!—CHANGE in the next six days. How dare it, if it does. These days, even the most uncontrollable things in the universe are personal attacks when they are not the way she wants them.

Again, like a five-year-old, it must be explained to her that that's just the way it is and life is not fair.

I, on the other hand, will spend my five days of freedom drinking wine and eating dinner—WITH CARBS—after 7 p.m. Maybe even after 8 p.m. (My grandmother is diabetic and never ceases to remind me that she has to go easy on the carbs; it's not that she's diabetic that I mind, it's that she thinks I forget that fact from day to day).