A gift card to the mortuary.

My big girl job deals in real estate transactions, so it's safe to say I see my fair share of Realtors.

Yesterday a certain agent came in and she was talking to me in her frantic-realtor-jibberish manor. Telling me things that didn't pertain in anyway to this particular transaction we were working together on and rattling off random facts.

I knew that my grandma (Nana) was the one who had listed the property and that she was doing it for free because her and this certain agent were like, best friends.

I went over the numbers with her on this transaction and showed her the bottom line figures she should expect from the sale of this property.

She said those figures were just about what she had figured and was so excited because she would be able to afford a gift certificate for my nana.

Naturally one would think $50.00 at chilis or a gift card for a mani/pedi.
So I asked "Aw, you're so sweet to do that, where are you getting her a gift certificate to?"

She said "The mortuary. I want it to be for $1,000.00 so these figures are great."
I'm pretty sure I looked like I'd just shit myself.
I thought:
A) What a fucked up gift.
B) Is that what best friends do now? Go in on each others plots?
C) She's got to be kidding me.

Then she quickly followed it up with: "Well you see honey, she always says how much she wants to get her daughter a real headstone. One she deserves since she doesn't really have one at all."

It took .5 seconds for that to register.
My eyes started to well with tears that I couldn't hold back.
She noticed.

Then it clicked with her. "Oh my god, that's your mother, I'm so sorry"
Through my ugly-cry voice and balls of wet tears rolling down my cheeks I told her to not be sorry and that was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard.

Still the very thought of this kind hearted, thoughtful act brings tears to my eyes.

With all the mass amounts of bullshit that I deal with in the industry I work in, I'm pretty sure this one thing makes the board even keel.

Just one of those days, er months.

Do you ever have one of those days where you have to go to the grocery store for two fucking items?

And the only two items you need in the entire store are either blocked off by palates of canned string beans or the only isle you need to go down is filled up with old people oogling and hoarding the glucosamine for thirty god damn minutes!?

Young people need joint lubrication too.

I swear to everything holy in this life, every time I need to make copies, the copier is out of paper.

Every. TIME.

I went to take a short power nap between jobs in the parking lot of Shopko last Friday. I parked in the very far corner, away from all vehicles. I reclined my seat, rolled the windows down so I could feel a cool breeze and shut my eyes. Just then a guy driving a bullet bike pulled up RIGHT NEXT TO ME. He shut off his bike and made a phone call:

"Yeah man, I'm just in the Shopko parking lot. Ok, yeah, cool. See ya in a second."

A minute later his friend arrived in a white Tahoe.

"Hey dude, you gotta check out this new album. It's sooo tight."

The Tahoe began blaring death-metal-punk-skaw bullshit that made me want to immediately punch one million babies.

Why do you hate me Jesus, Why?

Last Saturday I had a two hour workout. Between running 4 miles, lifting for 45 minutes, making sure to get a killer ab session in and all my big girl stretches it was just over 2 hours.

Saturday was also laundry day.

The one pair of jeans that fit me best were wet.

Knowing I had piles upon piles of jeans in my closet I set out to find a second best pair.

Not one pair fit. Even my fat pants were snug.

I immediately threw on a big, black, baggy pullover man hoodie and sulked down stairs.

I'm extremely frustrated with my body. I put this curvy, spiteful bitch of a body through hell and back at least 5 times a week. Most women would get a flat stomach and thighs that don't touch.

Me?

I get wrecked up knees and shin splints.

Can a bitch just catch a break?

And then I received an email with this horrid thing:

And suddenly things aren't so bad.

There once was this boy

When I was 16 my dad bought me a white Chevy cavalier. Towards the end of senior year I remember parking my white cavalier in the east parking lot of the high school. I parked there because it had prime locations for stashing your empty six pack of mikes hard lemonade before going back to 4th and 5th hour classes.
Most every day I'd watch this boy walk to and from his car with his dude friends and this one obnoxious girl that tagged along.
This boy had swagger.
He walked with a bad-boy-don't-fuck-with-me kind of limp.
From what I could tell he had mysterious hazel eyes.
Eyes I needed to get to know.
That boy and I just recently celebrated our SIX year wedding anniversary.

The husband doesn't read this blog. For too many obvious reasons.
Nonetheless I'm giving him a shout out.

Dear Bradley

You're one of the hardest working men I know. You juggle work, school, me and our canine family quite impressively. You even manage to find time to do yard work and golf. You humor all my whacky ideas and hang anything I ask you to. I may not know what the hell you're talking about when you're explaining to me, with your eyes as big as they'll go, how exactly sunsets emit color, and what a galaxy's composition is, or how magnets work or how aliens are among us every day, but I love your passion.
You're one brilliant dude, who without a doubt is destined to do great things and I'm honored to be by your side, and couldn't be prouder of the person you've grown to be.
Thank you for always being my shoulder to cry on, my person to vent to, my designated driver (babysitter) and the best back rubber in the world. Seriously, you have hands of gold.
When I watch you interact with our niece and nephew my uterus tingles just a bit. Then they spit up or start crying and it shrivels back into it's cold, dark cave. But I know one day you're going to be a remarkable father.
I don't know what drew us to each other, but just like the magnets I hope we never stop working.
No matter where we are in life, I'll always be happy as long as I'm with you.

8-3. Forever and Always.

E.

Brief update

Please review the list of bulleted items as follows: (I mean, only if you give a shit. You totally don't have to. My feelers won't even be hurt since I don't know who the hell even reads this blog) Hugs!

• After I got home from Alaska we had a big ol' shin dig out to the house to celebrate my "Utah Birthday." My two bests put it together and baked me a beautiful cake to go above and beyond as always.

• Uh. I threw a baby party for one of my bests. It was pretty off the chain. There was food, decorations, great people and flip cup.

Special thanks shout out to my best life partner/Mother-in-law/Sister-in-law.

• A group of us went to the Bay and cooked out, basked in the sun, played in the water and drank a whole lot of beer. It was tits.

• I've officially removed my lip piercing. I had contemplated it for a while and just decided after my 27th birthday and having it pierced for 4 years that it was time to start a new chapter. One without shit in my face.

• This last weekend was spent at Island Park, Idaho at a family reunion. The mother-in-laws side of the family was all there. Her cute mom and dad rented a cabin to accommodate everyone's clan and we all had a great time. There were mixed drinks, hot tubs, 4 wheelers, kayaking and camp fires. I had some awesome quality time with my nephew and niece, who are arguably the cutest things on this fucking planet. Spent some much needed girl time kayaking on the river with my sissyinlaw and mommyinlaw. Mommyinlaw had approximately 3 brushes with death, but all is well and she's alive.

• The weekend was so great, that we decided to bring back souvenirs in the form of the stomach flu. Everyone had their turn. A few people had it up there, a few of us took it home to savor it in all it's glory on a Monday. Really great stuff.

• I've recently become rather close and semi dependant on a woobie.

This is all for now.

Rewind.

Back in July the husband and I ventured off to a magical land.

Alaska.

The husband, Mother-in-law and I departed from the Salt Lake international Airport with our belly's full of beer and nachos from the airport pub.

After a short flight that seemed entirely too long due to the loud jackwads behind us, preaching LDSness to the entire fucking plane and boring us to tears with their conversations about punctuation and grammar, we finally had made it to Long beach.

We were in Long beach the perfect amount of time. Read: 2 eight dollar beers at the airport bar worth and back on the plane we went. Alaska bound.

After a very long 5 hour flight we arrived in Anchorage. We landed around midnight to a dimly lit sky and the biggest hugs ever from the father-in-law and grandparents. They were so happy to see us they even carried some of our luggage.

We spent our first night in the motor home in Fairbanks. The next day we headed to Soldotna.

After ooing and gooing at mother natures breath taking beauty over a 4 hour motor home ride to Soldotna we were finally there. We set up, Drank, had a fire and made smores.

The next morning we woke up and headed to.... somewhere... on the coast, or gulf, or peninsula, or inlet, or something to go clamming. I was a little nervous because I had heard that clams can leave you with some pretty bitchin' cuts, but after I saw my first air bubble in the sand I was determined to get that little fucker up rooted. I was a wee bit too aggressive however, and I smashed the shit out of my little gooey treasure.

After the mother-in-law getting stuck in the mud and me killing a few more clams, my father-in-law dug one up. He could feel where the clam was and told me where to go and that I needed to be soft and gentle and just wiggle him out of the sand and not fucking annihilate him. I did just that and brought the sea creature right to the surface. Alive and squirming. And most importantly, not in a million pieces. I think the little guy was grateful. He squirmed right out of his shell in an effort to give me a big slimy hug. Thus, scaring the ever living Christ out of me. Who knew a clam could move like that?

After clamming we stopped at a place called Jersey Subs. I was leery to walk in there without a spray tan and a wicked fist pump routine, but when I saw it was a sandwich shop running it's operation out of a bus and out houses for restrooms, I knew I'd be right at home. Best pastrami sandwich ever. Those Alaskan-Jersey sub bus drivers sure know what they're doing when it comes to a hot pastrami sandwich.

We arrived back at Soldotna and decided to get on the Kenia to slay some fish. Which is exactly opposite of what happened. As soon as we hit the river a storm rolled in, the bastard fish took raped all our bait and it was raining so hard water was going up our nose. On a boat with all men, the mother-in-law and I knew not to complain. So, with beers in hand, we just sat there, poles out, hands froze and a shitty grin.

The next morning the husband, in-laws and I headed to Seward to go on a day cruise around the gulf of Alaska.

This cruise was simply amazing. Right away we saw Orcas and Otters. Further into the cruise there was a cute little herd of porpoises that came and swam along our boat, jumping in sequence and throwing up peace signs. We started making our way through an ice field and arrived about a quarter mile away from a massive glacier. The captain said she was going to turn off the motor to the boat and for everyone to be silent and just listen. The cracks and pops that resonated off this monster glacier sounded like gun fire. Pieces of ice broke away and plummeted into the ocean. Everyone stood on deck in awe. It was this very moment a tear came to my eye. I looked around at the people who were seeing the same thing I was. Most of them were older. A humbling shock wave of emotion came over me. Here I was 27, wrapped in my husbands arms, My best in-laws to my side, in Alaska, seeing what most people dream of. I couldn't help but get a little emotional and feel extremely lucky.


The glacier marked the half way point and we began heading back the way we came. We saw puffins, sea lions and jelly fish. We docked at Fox Island, which could possibly be one of the most beautiful islands on the gulf and indulged in prime rib and crab legs. We skipped rocks on the beach and took a few pictures before boarding the boat (with rocks illegially smuggled down my pants) to head back to Seward.



About 40 minutes before arriving in Seward there was another whale sighting only this one, even more spectacular than the last. We encountered what was called a super pod. It's basically where all the whales from the sea get together to have a mixer. There's whale booze, fresh salmon, everyone puts their keys in the key bowl and then after that it's all just one big fuck fest. It's the mardigras of the sea.

We ended our day cruise with a bald eagle welcoming us back to dock.

We fiddlefucked around Seward for a bit, trying to get rid of our sea legs and headed back to Soldotna.

The next morning we left for Homer in the motor home. This is where I discovered that having a vehicle with a built in fridge and a toilet means you can drink as much beer as you'd like and you never once have to ask the driver to find a gas station that doesn't look like it's crawling with STD'S. Best. Invention. Ever.


We arrived on the Homer spit, enjoyed the best fish and chips I've ever had, EVER and then went to the Salty Dawg Saloon and had a bit of bourbon. We had a big day ahead of us so we kept things relatively calm.

The next morning we headed out, at five fucking A.M. to meet the captain of our deep sea charter boat and to get on the water. We had a bit of a hold up getting out to sea but we finally all were crammed inside the fishing boat and on our way out to the "fishing hole"--Which just means the sea.


Our captains name was Rod. I know right? Rod seemed super nice on the TWO HOUR LONG boat ride out to the fishing hole. We made small talk, He found out it was my birthday and didn't laugh too hard when my mother-in-law asked about an hour into the boat ride if we were in international waters.

We finally anchored down. Rod was demonstrating exactly what we were to do, and how to do it when he got a fish on his line. Naturally he yells "Birthday girl, get over here now"---

You see, nice Rod went bye bye once we had stopped. This was now drill sargent Rod. Which, I guess if you're dealing with 8 semi drunk adults on a 10x10 space all playing with heavy metal jigs that could take someones face off and such, one probably can't leave much room for horseplay.

So, I jumped to. I was so excited to actually catch my first fish EVER! The captain handed the rod over and my arms got immediately slammed into the side of the boat. I don't think I've ever really contemplated or assessed how much a fish ACTUALLY weighs, but you'd think not much since everything is super light in water. This heavy mother fucker put up quite the fight. I didn't have a technique, I couldn't get any sort of leverage, I didn't know where to hold or how to pull and reel. In my brain, the only logical thing to do was to shove the rod (Not the captain) directly between my legs and ride it like a fucking pony. Naturally.

I was so wrapped up in trying to NOT look like a jackass, and TRY to get this fish in that I can't really recall what Rod was telling me to do. I think I heard "idiot" and "are you kidding me" mumbled somewhere along the line. I found it quite fitting I was getting junk punched by a 60 pound Ling Cod 27 times on my birthday. Thank you sir, may I have another.
Rod came to my rescue to take over and with my last breath I exhaled "Thank you on behalf of my vagina." It was at that very moment captain Rod and I became best friends.

He finished up his lesson and in the next few moments we dropped, hit bottom, reeled up twice and waited. I got another fish on and brought that little bastard to the surface. Upon it's arrival, deck hand Michael, who wasn't previously briefed on my sensitivity to killing things, GAFFED IT RIGHT INFRONT OF MY FACE!. --For those of you, much like me, unfamiliar with fishing terminology, this means impale a poor fish, after it's brought out of it's cute little sea home, with a hook suitable for Hannibal Lectar.
THEN deck hand Michael put the fish on the deck of the boat, where it can flop around and slam into your legs while screaming "Thanks a lot bitch, are you happy now!?" and he bleeds it out. Which means, jams a knife through it's gills. Then the words "FISH BOX" are yelled, they open a compartment and throw the poor semi-lifeless fish below deck. Then they get a bucket of water from the ocean to splash the blood and guts from the deck. Which, awesomely splashed right up the crack of my ass.

Gruesome murder aside, the charter was awesome. I got to spend some amazing quality time in the middle of the ocean with my father-in-law. And by quality time I mean, him looking at his spaz of a daughter-in-law with a puzzled look on his face as to why I'm having a borderline epileptic fit on deck whenever a 70 pound fish is slammed down by my feet. It's all a little jarring still.

My mother-in-law and I had quite the time too. She made fun of me wearing my big silver hoops and all my rings on board. I cried to her about how badly my entire body ached from reeling in fish weighing the equivalent to a god damn fifth grader and that I couldn't even put a sandwich to my mouth AND that I didn't think I could fit in the pisser and I didn't want to pee infront of a bucket of dead herring staring at me.

The husband looked proud as ever reeling in all his fish. He was totally in his element. He's not a huge fisher or hunter, but he knew exactly what he was doing. I think all the natural outdoors knowledge is transferred upon birth with the penis package.

Once we'd all caught our fill we headed back to land. After very minimal sleep and 12 hours on a boat, I was sure no one, including myself was going to be in the mood to get crazy on my birthday. I severely underestimated the caliber of badasses we were on this trip with.

The in laws told us to shower up and be ready in an hour. We headed further down the Homer spit and the in-laws treated us to a wonderful birthday dinner at the Market Grill. Our appetizer was Tequila. Our main course was meat of sorts paired with beer and our desert was more than our fill of bourbon at the Salty Dawg.

I woke up with sand in every orifice the next morning with no recollection of the night before.

Me:"Husband! How did I get so sandy?"
Husband: "Oh, apparently you don't remember rolling around on the beach with my mother at midnight rambling something about "Can you say you've ever rolled around on the beach of the Homer spit at midnight on your birthday??" You two were like two drunken sea lions last night. It was like tending over grown toddlers on ambien"
Me: "Huh. weird"

Best. Birthday. Ever.

After souvenir shopping we hit the road, Soldotna bound once again.
The next couple days were pretty chill. We did some fishing on the Kenia, laid around and caught up on some R&R and then processed an approximate fuck load of fish.

By this time it was time to get packed up, clean up and head home. We caught a plane out of Kenia and had a 30 minute flight to Fairbanks. Which was WAY better than a 4 hour drive crammed inside a regular cab truck. While in Fairbanks we all ate dinner as a family and my mother-in-law, husband and I saw my father-in-law off on his connecting flight. The 3 of us caught our flight a little later.

We made it home from vacation tired, sore and in need of a chiropractic adjustment but I must say it was one of the most memorable, amazing trips Brad and I have ever been on.

We've been to some pretty badass places. Alaska might have just elbowed it's way to the top of the list.

To my in-laws: I can't think of two more awesome inlaws to have shared Alaska with. The memories made and moments shared will forever be treasured in our hearts. You two made Alaska all that it could ever be and more. I absolutely love, adore and cherish you two. Thank you for everything.


Best fucking trip ever.


I love yall to the moon.

Seeing Red.

*Spoiler alert to anyone with a penis. Never mind the cryptic title, this post is indeed about a menstrual cycle**

If I wasn't already bleeding, I'd cut myself right now.

Our lovely mother nature is a bitch.

A real low down, snarky, stabby, uppity bitch who thinks she's self entitled and better than everyone.

I've been googling "How to make your period stop"

"Why have I been on a period for three weeks"

"The aftermath of the depoprevera shot"

"How young is too young to get a hysterectomy?"

and

" Coping techniques: HOW TO NOT FUCKING KILL PEOPLE"

Honestly, how long can you use: "I'm sorry, I'm just on a really bad period right now"

Or: "Sorry for the prefuse sweating, bloating and my bitchy behavior, I'm completely emotionally unstable."

I called the doctors office this morning.

"Hey, My name is Erica Archibald, I got the depo shot at the first of June so I could run this race that was designated for crazy running masochists and NOT be on my period for it and as an added bonus; prevent children. Well, It worked like a charm, however the entire month of July I had a period hit about every 4 or 5 days and they'd last about a week and a half, and NOW, I'm going on three weeks STRAIGHT of NON-STOP crampy, bleedy bullshit and I can't stop sweating and I've blown through more feminine hygiene products in the last two months than what any girl should ever have to, and I just really need this DEMON period OUT OF ME. If I can't take SOMETHING to stop this, LIKE SOON, I WILL start hurting people. I NEED A YOUNG PRIEST AND AN OLD PRIEST!"

Um... OK... What's your date of birth and a phone number we can call you back on?

I waited an hour or so and they called me back with my option(s).

Hi, this is squeaky voice girl who sounds like she's twelve calling from the doctors office to talk to you about your vagina and I have a couple of options for you. You're due for your next session of the depo shot in one week so .......

"Stop. right. there.
NO DEPO, THANK YOU.
Continue."

Um... OK, well the next thing that you could do, which the doctor thinks will definitely help, is a one week prescription of estrogen.

"Will that make me crazier? Because I don't know how much more that myself or the people around me are willing to tolerate and I'm already contemplating swerving into on coming traffic, I'm down 3 bowls of my nice china and my husband said he's refusing to spackle anymore holes in our walls."

Well, actually, If you're already kind of crazy, this estrogen, even though it is the female hormone, should, actually... fix you. Sort of.
We hope anyway. Please stop yelling.

I sent Brad a text that I was picking up this hormone before we hit the road to go to Island Park for a fun filled family weekend of awesome.

"I'm genuinely scared for my life right now" was his reply.

Vacation here we come!

Stay tuned

I promise to get around to posting all things awesome involving Alaska. However at the moment, I'm in the midst of preparing to throw my first baby shower. Only instead of it being an actual baby shower, I've morphed it into a "Baby party". You know, one that dudes can come to, and we can all sit around with adult beverages in hand and shoot the shit and celebrate the couple and their short coming new arrival. Because if you ask me, showers are lame and party's are way better.

I've also been busting my creative balls. I had an order placed for some "Thank you" gifts. You can check them out here: http://botbinc.blogspot.com/

I think they're tits. If I do say so myself.

Feel free to place an order. (And tell all your friends)